the day charlie sheen stops hiring hookers is the day he dies. or i lose interest. whichever comes first. truth be told, i know i should think he's a cad, but i find him a delightful scamp. what gives? why does the feminist part of my brain go on vacation when i read these stories? i should be outraged or irritated, but instead i'm all "oh! that charlie! what will he do next?" he's not dennis the menace, he's obviously a misogynistic alcoholic, but i can't imagine him any other way.
also! my sweet D bought me a button maker for my birthday and it showed up early! that's the good news. the bad news, either i am retarded and can't make it work, or it's cursed because it is not working. i got two or three buttons out of it, then a piece of paper got stuck, and now it seems irrevocably fubar-ed. it didn't come with instructions, so i've been using the internets to figure it out, but i have a feeling it really isn't supposed to be as hard to use and shouldn't be frustrating me quite this much. i should just be making BUTTONS. shit. i'm thrilled that my boyfriend is so awesome, but annoyed at the machine. no matter what happens i know this: if this machine doesn't work out, i'm buying another one because the few buttons i did get made are AWESOME. the end. (how have i not bought one before now?)