A brief but important warning.

Attn: American Public

It has come to light that going out dancing with one's friends is not nearly as safe as was previously suspected.  Have you been thinking that it'd be nice to throw on your sluttiest top, grab your girlfriends, and head to the club for some martinis, rufies, and some music you can awkwardly shake your ass to?

THINK AGAIN.

According to a recently popular song, there have been instances of club personnel having to call 9-1-1 due to raging fires on the dance floor.  Another song states that the dance floor must be evacuated due to risk of infection by sound.  It is rumoured that there have even been deaths by sick beats.  Is this a mass conspiracy designed to destroy the morale of the American people, or perhaps an act of terrorism by anti-dancing cult members (founded under the principles of the dad from Footloose)? It's very possible. 

Currently, there are investigations into the matter.  For the time being, it is suggested that you either dance in your own living rooms in your underwear, or perhaps visit piano bars and wine bars instead.  It has been stated that country western/line dancing bars are safety zones as well, but the author of this warning would like to interject and say that if you genuinely wish to visit these establishments, you should promptly go jump into shark-infested waters instead.

Be on the lookout, dear readers, and dance safely. 

With love and lamé,

Isabella "Izzy" St. James

A seriously needed update of ridiculousness.

Izzy: You know what boredom and curiosity lead to? Nair-ing your arm hair off.  On the bright side, they are as soft as a baby's bottom, minus the Desitin and poo remnants.

Ginger: I would hope you don't have poo remnants amidst your arm hairs.

Izzy: Nice.  And there are no arm hairs.  Oddly I kind of like it...

Ginger: I would understand...who would dislike velvety soft hairless forearms?

Izzy: Romanians?

Ginger: Now ask yourself, are Romanians really people?

Izzy: They're gypsies.  I'm jealous, I want to be a gypsy.  Maybe that's why I am mildly appalled that I Nair-ed my arms.

Ginger: I spent most of my childhood pretending to be/wishing I was a gypsy.

Izzy: As did I, praying that if I ever was, that I'd end up with someone less deformed than Quasimodo.  I wasn't into hunchbacked Frenchmen *shrugs*.  Plus, as I recall, he had really hairy forearms.  I could never be, we're too different.

Ginger: Who is? Also, I was so not okay with their height and age difference.  Q was at least 35.  He does have the in with talking gargoyles though...that's a definite perk.

Izzy: Don't hate on height differences lol.  I'm an amazon.  I feel like I need to be beating on my armoured chest plate and spearing things on the reg.

Ginger: And yet I usually see you frolicking and taking drugs...spearing things could be your day job I guess.

Izzy: I so tend to frolic quite a bit, don't I? Hmm.  I'm going to need to find something to do for the upcoming winter.  Frolicking in the snow leads to disaster and sore bums.

**********

[On Godspell]

Ginger: Have you seen Godspell? Despite religious undertones (because it's about Jesus' life or something), I desperately want to frolic with the hippies and wear a knitting bag as a hat.

Izzy: Who do you think I am? Of course I've seen Godspell, I love hippies and went to a Catholic school.  And now I have "Day by Day" stuck in my head.  Thanks, you camel crotch.

Ginger: Of course, I have no idea why I ever even had doubts...I really want it on DVD, I would watch it all the time.

Izzy: We can watch it together, repeatedly, then re-enact it.  Ethan is going to hate us.

Ginger: He will, if not already.  yesterday he told me he feels like I'd rather talk to you than do him :(  So not true...I enjoy both!

Izzy: We can't help it if our conversations are mentally orgasmic.  Just tell him we're getting all the bases covered.

Ginger: Lolz, that's good reasoning.  When do I get to see yooooou?

Izzy: Hopefully soon.  If I get laid I want to tell you about it in person, there are bound to be a lot of necessary hand gestures to accompany the conversation.

Ginger: Obvs, as any good conversation about getting laid has.

Izzy: Agreed.  I mean, between that and facial expression it's almost not even worth talking about any other way.

**********

Izzy: So I was thinking...is jizz the consistency that it is because proteins coagulate when heated (thanks, hospitality management)?

Ginger: I think it's because of the lack of fluid with the proteins.  So, we're both right?

**********

Izzy: If I have a predeliction for blowjobs, can I save time an just say I have a predicklicktion?

Ginger: I think so...but I think only the most intellectual (aka ballers like us) will find it humorous.

Izzy: It's a bit of a mouthful.  Pun intended.

**********

Ginger: Come to my windooow, I'll be home soo-oon.  Crawl insiide, wait by the light of the moo-oon.

Izzy: That made my life complete.

**********

Ginger: There is an unimpressed looking little puppy in a carrier on the T.  It's terribly adorable.

Izzy: Steal it.

Ginger: I totally would, but it's in the lap of I think Zeus himself...if Zeus were in any way a black man.

**********

Ginger: Somebody just asked if you were "my girl".  I felt like saying yes just for funsies.

Izzy: Lol who was it?

Ginger: This kid in my class...I was on your Facebook and he asked.

Izzy: You should tell him that we're in love and going to raise camels together.

Ginger: Egads! So many possibilities, sadly I was honest.  I would like to raise camels with you, though.  Coincidentally, my post to you concerned camels.

**********

[Ginger's Random Tangents]

Ginger: Ethan bet a boy ten dollars he wouldn't eat a cricket in the alley, and he did but then gave the money back.  He essentially at a cricket for funsies.  Boys. Are. So. Weird.

Ginger: I think I'm gonna do a blog about my ideal wedding- aka an excuse to have acrobats and firedancers riding elephants.

Ginger: Jailbait's the best bait.

Ginger: Just made a dramatic exit that you would be proud of...I announced I had a wang? Kicked three chairs and a trashcan, and threw the door open and yelled, "peace suckas!".

Ginger: WHO CAN'T PRONOUNCE CANCUN? Answer: my classmates.  FML.  This kid is presenting to the calss and was like "I can't pronounce this Mexican place...C-a-n-c-u-n" and then he didn't realize it was in Mexico.  He thought it was an American city.

Ginger: We're so in sync we're almost N*Sync.

Ginger: I feel like G wouldn't understand Xanadu unless she was on E.

Ginger: I love geekin' out :) Both with drugs and with knowledge.

**********

[On being hit on by creeps.]

Ginger: Ahahahaha...you should have said "does it look like I like boys?" and they shut up.  It's very helpful for male creepers.  It does, however, tend to attract female ones.  It's worth it, though, I personally feel.

--Izzy's responses to this portion are undocumented--

Ginger: What did he say after you answered? P.S., I heard this girl talking to her friend and was like "and the stupid bitch got 'army girl' tattooed as a tramp stamp and he's gonna dump her next week anyway, and everyone knows but no one said anything."

Ginger: Oooh, what a draw a carwash has vs. the Marines...you're making the wrong decision, bestie.  I'm obligated to tell you to think about this offer a little more instead of making a rash decision.

***********

Izzy: I'm in a bar in South Carolina and someone just segued from Happy Birthday into the national anthem...then started beat boxing it.

Ginger: Is that the Hot Cross Buns of beat boxing, everyone can do it?

**********

Izzy: You know how people usually write things like "wash me" on the back of dirty semi trucks? Just saw something that trumps that- this truck said "bare hooters".  Seriously.  I almost wish it had been spelled wrong so it could say bear hooters...even better.

**********

Izzy: Soo, you're not really supposed to have female visitor's in the men's barracks.  Naturally I had to have sex there.  I love screwing around with government properties...good thing I'm not a sponsored nuclear physicist or something.

**********

Izzy: I got weird looks at the BP in Virginia and the girl who sold me cigs talked to me like I'm an imbecile even though she looked like she had killed brain cells in abundance.  Naturally I dropped a bomb in their bathroom.

Ginger: Always a good defense.  And it's covertly vindictive enough not to look planned.

Izzy: The gift shop was full of hats and other things sporting horses, Nascar, Confederate flags, camo, and hunting shit.  Quite frankly I think droppin' a deuce improved the atmosphere. 

Ginger: It would have improved the gift shop if you had pooed on some of the Nascar memorabilia.

Izzy: Agreed but if I sneaked it back to the bathroom they might think I'm a thief.  I'd end up in jail with dudes named Bubba and Hoss.  I try to avoid that.

Ginger: Especially Hoss.  He is certainly not a friendly gent.  You could also have dropped trou inside the store, but most likely with the same results.

**********

Izzy: 1 mile to a place called Poplar Camp...it invoked visions of trees enjoying kayaking and employing the buddy system.

Ginger: Hey man, even Batman uses the buddy system.

**********

Izzy: Wood Education and Resource Center...good game, West Virginia.

**********

Ginger: I like women who braid their hair and stick it through the hole in the back of their ball cap like it's Beach Day '95.

Izzy: YES.  Especially when they wear cobalt blue nylon shorts and shirts with the sleeves ripped off.

Ginger: And a swishy jacket in case it gets chilly.  And big plastic sunglasses.

Izzy: With the neon arms, preferably green, orange, or the occasional pink.  Wind breaker track suits for when it's chilly because you know those shorts are light and airy!

Ginger: Those track pants are also for early morning jobs with ankle weights.

**********

[On seeking revenge.]

Ginger: can I send you a shield of mind bullets and sunshine to keep the bad stuff away? Heard from dickface yet?

Ginger: Well, good then.  You can meet me and bring the baseball bats wrapped in viper fangs.  I got your back, boo.  I'm gonna fill the shot glass full of hemlock and shoot it through a cannon at him.

Izzy: Haha.  Deadly nightshade! <3

Ginger: I feel that this plan has no flaws.

Izzy: Agreed.  Where are we going to get a cannon?

Ginger: The barn where we keep out mini-horse cavalry and jetpacks.

Izzy: Can we have a secret underground lair to keep weaponry and captives?

Ginger: Duh, that's what the retina-scan elevator is for by the tackle shed.

**********

Ginger: We could so look like hot mechanics and give all the boys and girls boners.

**********

Izzy: I have somehow managed to connect my genetic heritage to Vikings (thanks to Wikipedia, source of all truth and enlightenment).  The best part about it? I'm not even high.

Ginger: well anyone who is blond or redheaded is descended from Vikings too.  Yeah Vikes! Bein' all pillagey and shit.

Izzy: New pickup line: "hey baby, can I pillage your village?".

**********

Ginger: Just tried to say Led Zeppelin, but said Lez Zeppelin instead.  New porn idea?

**********

Izzy: Lol fickling is a funny word.  Like a cross between fucking and tickling.  Fake tickle fights ftw!

*********

[On the formation of our camelry.]

Izzy: A camel cavalry is called a camelry, and desert warriors or soldier often fought camel-back with spears, bows, or rifles.  Plus according to folklore, camel smell disorients horses which makes a horse cavalry essentially useless against them...lawlz.

Ginger: So when we storm the capital and takeover, a camelry is the best choice.  Good looking out, bestie.  Dromedary knowledge is useful.

Izzy: I would name my camel Ramses.

Ginger: It's an excellent camel name.  I would like mine to be called Bonaparte.

Izzy: Bill's camel would be Hitler, Adrian's would be Serge, and Tommy's would be Phineas.  I'm surveying the masses.

Ginger: Good, we can't have unnamed camels in our camelry.

Izzy: Apparently our friend Tom's will be Yoseph, Adrian just informed me of this.  Leave no stone unturned, and no camel unnamed!

Ginger: We truly know how to plan for camel-driven domination.

**********

[On future tattoo plans.]

Ginger: I thought Jen's face was going on your butt cheek. 

Izzy: No Jen's name, her face is going on our friend Nate's butt cheek.  And I will have to be very very drunk to get a buttoo.

Ginger: I do not want a buttoo at all.

Izzy: I was too lazy to write out butt tattoo so I just smooshed it together and made a new word.  I feel so Tyra Banks right now.

Ginger: I love how Perez calls her Tyrannasaurus.  She totes is, but faboosh at the same time.  I like the word buttoo.

Izzy: Tyra is very T-Rex like.  Intimidating but also captivating.

Ginger: And majestic.

Izzy: Yayyyyy! Let me know when you check it out.  If we got it I'd so feel like a sailor.

Ginger: We should probably arrange our adult lives so that we ALWAYS feel like sailors.

**********

Izzy: Just went to a psychic who seemed to give a pretty damn accurate reading but then wanted me to drop $240 for her to do a meditation with me to rid me of some of my negative energy before December 12th, which is apparently going to be a turning point in my life.  From now on I'm just going to All Messages at the Spiritualist Church.  It's free and once a month.

Ginger: No kidding! For $240, I want a harem of seraphim to follow me singing everywhere to compliment my solid gold aura.

Izzy: For serious.  At least 24 karats and perfect harmonies or I want a refund.

**********

Izzy: Dr. Phil just told this kid that he became a passenger on the drug train.  Where the fuck is this train station? I wanna travel!

Ginger: I want a pass with my picture and everything! Must join!