Now that Annabel has finally received her surprise gift, I can go on and on and on and on about Pluto’s new album Pipe Line Under The Ocean. Holy fucking wow it is good. There’s a bunch of songs on there that can reduce me to tears if I was going to let them, and a bunch of songs – some of them the same – that make me want to shove my hands down the nearest set of panties (probably mine) immediately. Hott hott hott hott hott hott hott. The album came out last Monday, and luckily we got sent a copy at work so I could rip it to my computer, since I’d ordered mine from SmokeCDs.com and they didn’t arrive until Wednesday – which isn’t like a huuuuge delay, and they did make sure that i got them before my mummy’s birthday the next day since I ordered her Fur Patrol’s Collider. Anyway, I can’t recommend this album highly enough. Go get yourself a copy RIGHT NOW. It’s the nearest I’m ever going to come to my perfect fantasy of cloning the band and fucking them all while they play live. Oh yeaaaaaaaaah.

Now, speaking of fantasies, and fucking, and the nearest best thing, last night I went to a Fuckerware party and it was tremendous fun – although I ended up spending a hundred bucks more than I’d intended to. But really, when a vibrator is all shimmery and squirmy and pearly rotating and sixty dollars off, and lights up like a disco ball, how can one resist? It was the most popular purchase, and even though I don’t know the names of most of the girls at the party, it’s like we’ve got our own little club now, inappropriate as that may be to suggest to strangers. And the other thing I bought is on back order, which means I get fun delivered to me at a later date as well, hurray! Also, __ was like “omg, you’re not going to post explicitly about this in your journal are you?” so I reassured her that hey, of course I was, but I’d leave her out of it. As I did.

On a sexless note, hoooo boy I’m looking forward to tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps I will start writing the letter now.

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