SW is: yay! today is my half birthday.

This status comes from a very good source who insists it is real, and not a few melodramatic haikus smashed together for effect. Here it is in full:

yay!
today is my half birthday
i cried most of today
morning was good!
then ate a slice of cookie cake from the mall
more like stuffed my face with a slice of cookie cake from the mall
and now im alone
in my apartment
with my cats.

It affected me so much. I decided to write a status message from the perspective of a eunuch.

Yay!
Today is its birthday
I cried most of the day
Evening was good!
Then ate a hard boiled egg
More like stuffed my face with many hardboiled eggs
And now I’m alone
In my chamber.
With my unneutered pitbulls.

Narcissism Rating: 6 (the original, not the eunuch's)

JF: Würde es jemanden schockieren wenn ich jetzt schriebe, dass Michael Jackson tot ist?

Forgive the mundane spirit of this status message, I mean, it’s no kelliyogimudra, but it does teach us something. Let’s dissect it. First, why are Reverend(s) Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson always popping up when things like this transpire in the black community? It’s like the way the palmetto bugs appear at every summer barbecue, vying for their piece of apple fritter. You have people like this in your own family. Grandma dies, and there’s Uncle Al and Uncle Jesse making it all about them. I mean, you haven’t seen these two since the big family reunion six years ago, and there they are usurping the spotlight, talking about all they did for granny. Did? They didn’t do shit. While you were changing her catheter, they were traveling the U.S., stirring up water to find more…water. But for some reason, all the family members gather around to hear what they have to say. Wisdom of the Elders, who, like a Pinto, were elderly the minute they got off the production line. I mean, even though one uncle has the same name, it doesn’t give him the right to go running around telling others not to commit suicide because of granny’s death. And the other uncle…the one who’s, like, barely even related, is making statements about how you’re making plans to plan the funeral that may just be a public viewing in granny’s home featuring, oh a million of her closest friends. But do you think those two will be out directing traffic, which is what’s gonna really be needed that day? Don’t bet on it.
Narcissistic Rating for all meddling people whose last names start with S and J: 10!

Special prize for anyone who can tell Hedonism Chronicles how many times the refrain, ‘we are the world,’ is made in that dumb song. Seriously. Give me your address and I’ll send you something, but no guessing.

A.B. just took a roundtrip tour compliments of the Disney bus system...we better not miss our dinner reservations tonight or I promise you

we WILL be dining at the sold-out rest. I've been trying to get into to tomorrow night!

Thanks to KC for a status message from the Wonderful World of Cultmice. I should’ve thought of doing a search for this sooner. Let me make something abundantly clear, Hedonism has nothing against Disney World, Disneyland, Mickey Mouse, or any of its affiliates. In fact, I’ve been to D.W. a few times in my life and found it most enjoyable. Of course, I was ten, fifteen and nineteen during those times. I was not on a honeymoon. I was not part of a childless couple, nor was I on a Christian Singles Adventure. I was a kid. Kids belong at Disney World. Overweight women with locks dyed to match Cinderella who are trying to rescue their inner child from rape – they do not belong at Disney World. I feel sorry for these girl-women. They follow Paula Deen and savor the simplicity of making Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies. They titter at The Cable Guy, and clandestinely have The Lion King loaded on their iPods. They use strawberry body wash with matching shampoo, and wear period panties all year ‘round. They work the front desk in dental offices and threaten reservation agents when they’re on vacation. You know the type.
Narcissistic Rating: 4

Drea is in a freaking PISSY mood. Please no phone calls unless it is an emergency.

You’ll be happy to know that I have quite a few status messages from Drea here, all of them this delightful. Drea seems to believe she is Joan Crawford. I mean, what are you imagining? I see this chick in a lawn chair with scarf around her head and huge red sunglasses. “Hold all my calls,” she says to one of her fifteen servants, “Mommy isn’t feeling well.” Yes, she refers to herself as Mommy even though she has no children.

Car should be back in my hands by 5:00 - thank god - it's only been 6 F******** weeks since I've had it!
Well, that’s good to know.

Drea is still missing my Daddy.
Daddy? Do you mean, actual Daddy or Old Man-Daddy? Do women your age still call their fathers Daddy outside of the bedroom?

I HATE NC and want to get away from here.
Well, apparently you now have a car. How hard is it to just leave? Besides, I’m sure Daddy will bankroll your departure.

Drea is cleaning my apartment.... Still NOT happy.
Drea, take a page from Kelliyogimudra’s Bible (which she herself wrote). Relax….tea (strychnine). Neck-massage (noose). Aromatherapy (gas + match).

Drea is about to flip out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Drea, you are obviously in no condition to be Tweeting.

I have found my happy place and life is great! I couldn't ask for anything more ;)!
Drea? Drea? Lithium is not just something you store in your pineapple-shaped limoges pill box for a rainy day. The highs are high, but the lows, oh Drea, the lows. You’re affecting everyone around you. Think of us, the members of the www community who must helplessly watch you suffer. Someone put Drea out of her misery. Anyone?

Jason Reed rarely gets upset anymore except when the Ritz Carlton jacks up your Porsche then denies it ever happened. We never landed on the moon eith

Jason, friend, buddy, pal, Hedonism is going to have to have some sympathy here. Not for the Porsche, those things can be fixed. But Jason, your ego, your fragile, delicate self-concept. It’s in the dumps, isn’t it? You’re feeling…inadequate? It’s okay, Jason. Many men have been in your position. It’s not a big deal. Besides, I’m sure when it’s erect it’s normal size. Oh, you’re having trouble with that too? Then it seems that the whole Porsche thing is a metaphor for something much bigger, or should I say, smaller in your life. Was it a girl who jacked you up in this manner? It’s always the bitches, isn’t it, Jason. Not that you were upset by her performance. You rarely get upset anymore. Of course, she could’ve tried for a little longer. Thirty minutes isn’t nearly enough. If I may, offer a Dr. Hedonism diagnosis, your “Porsche” may be in need of some professional tinkering. Ever since we landed on the moon, there have been great advancements in such mechanical remedies. Bit of lube, some flushing of the fluids, and a little Viagra should do the trick.

Don’t be embarrassed, Jason. It happens to everyone.
Narcissism Rating (what do you think?): 10

RDW is thinkin about chicken salad and pre marrital sex. please dont kill me jason!

Hmmmm. I wonder how that conversation went down in this guy’s head.

“Gotta do the dishes before Amy comes over. Should read some scripture. I wonder if we have any Ziplocs in the house. Jason needs to do the frickin’ dishes. Why did Judas do that? I hate it when they show sex on Animal Planet. Who cares about chickens doing it. I could sure use some chicken salad right now. T-Mobile sucks, but Catherine Zeta Jones is so hot. I could ram her from behind, my cock slamming her wet, dripping pussy. God will send me to hell if I touch myself, but oh, that Catherine Zeta Jones. Chicken. Chicken. Jason. Chicken. Oh Catherine touch me there, there THERE!”

Yeah, kid. Go bang your wife-to-be. You deserve it.

Narcissistic Rating: 0
Making Hedonism Feel Sorry For You Rating: 8

Ommmm Baby Ommmm - A Look Into The Mind of A Yogi

I just want to take a moment to thank all of you who send me status messages. This blog is best when the material comes from you. For example, the string of lunacy below that was sent to us by TAS. Let’s get to know Kelliyogimudra through her overly revealing status messages, shall we?

Kelliyogimudra......wants someone to make her tea and find the perfect music to go along with this super-fun morning.
That’s nice, Kelli. Although, I think one of the tenants of being a ‘yogi’ is to be able to wait on yourself. Go to the CD player, pick out some Shanti/Ashtangi (For you, I recommend track number eight on Madonna’s Ray of Light Album) then hop into the kitchen and boil up some water. You can do this, Kelliyogimudra. I believe in you.

Kelliyogimudra thought it was kinda cute how crestfallen the payroll specialist looked when she mentioned her fiancee. Tee hee.
I was enlightened to the fact that Kelli is speaking in the third person here. This point-of-view change, well, it changes everything. See, we’re led to believe that the payroll specialist is a woman speaking of her fiancée. But alas, our little yogi is speaking about herself. And the payroll specialist is male. The complexity of sentence structure is inadvertently Faulkneresque. And definitely narcissistic.

Kelliyogimudra is entirely amused by this whole "drop dead diva" shoot tomorrow. Casting guy's instructions? "Bring a few changes of yoga wear and look beautiful." Bwahaha.
Bwahaha? Better check those chakras, Kelli, I think you just turned into an evil world ruler with a pot-belly and a cat. Or is it that you’re saying that a few changes of yoga wear and looking-beautiful are de rigueur for you and not something you have to overthink? Either way, thanks for using the status message to insinuate that you’re a drop dead diva. As if we didn’t already know.

Kelliyogimudra: being accused of not working hard enough because my 'bonus' (which I do not get) is not tied to productivity of the studio is RIDICULOUS. If I were in this for the money, I'd be long friggin' gone by now.
Oh boy. Something just went rather Al Qaedea in Kelli’s brain.

You’re walking on dangerous water here, Kelli. Allow me to be your Status Message Guru, and explain. You’ve used the status message to tell us you wanted someone to wait on you, to insinuate that you’re desirable to the payroll specialist, and to flaunt your role in a divaesque photoshoot. But now you’re telling us – and more importantly, your boss – that you’re unhappy with your job. Dear, the world wide web is world wide; its tentacles can reach places you may not desire.

Breathe, KelliYogi. You're sitting in a field of daisies, there's a light breeze...and your ass is in the unemployment line with the rest of America.
Narcissism Rating:10, Faux Yogi Rating: 10