Take advice from fuckups.they're the only ones that can tell you about the bottom & how to avoid it


Wednesday, March 31, 2010

This is kind of gross...

I compulsively masturbate.

I have some days when I will do it, like, 15-20 times.

It's really kind of disgusting.

I wonder if it makes me smell like girl jizz.

I wondered this because I know guys that comulsively masturbate smell like cum sometimes. I can point out a male that jerks off a lot in a store if I've had the chance to be close enough to them to smell them (from walking past them or whatever).

This kind of made me wonder, are those of us who do this some kind of sexual narcissists? People who are obsessed with touching none other than themselves? hmmm...

Sunday, March 28, 2010

One Sentence For Dan

Airy Breath Causes Deffinite Eerie Fog, Grabs Hills In Jade Kisses, Licks Men's Noses, Often Plays Quadrimiums, Rests Safely The Uvula, Vanishes With Xanthic Yellows, Zizzingly.

Saturday, March 27, 2010


I guess I had my last dream about Tom Waits last week. It was the last of a series of four. Charlie is now in my head, in my dreams. Drunk and on his deathbed. Desiring my subserviant company. As he stood before me, I grew afriad of him. I feared I would fall victim to his misogyny, or that he would to my misandry. But it didn't happen that way. Instead we were tender toward each other. I cuddled him and fluffed the pillows of his deathbed. I found his body cold and lifeless the following morning, but I didn't cry. I embraced his corpse, and called the coroner. I embraced his corpse....hmmm. Metaphor, irony, or nonsense?

Friday, March 26, 2010

Self Medicating...

I have suffered from severe depression and anxiety for most of my life. The first time I attempted suicide I was six years old. I tried to hang myself from a coat hook on my bedroom door with a ribbon dancer toy. Obviously, I was unsuccessful. I am pretty sure that my mental illness can be attributed to post-traumatic stress from my enduring years of sexual, physical, emotional, and mental abuse. However, I have yet to find proper and effective treatment for these disorders.
I joke about my depression often, but the honest to god truth is, no matter how pompous or corny it sounds, if I don't find an effective avenue of treatment, they could very well end up being the cause of my death. People poke fun at those of us who suffer from depression and anxiety, often calling us weak, lazy, unmotivated, stupid, rebellious, etc., but the fact remains that people suffering from mental illness are all too often imprisoned, institutionalized, improperly medicated, and wind up DEAD as either a direct or indirect result of these illnesses. I have seen the results from all sides from having been incarcerated and institutionalized myself.
I have been placed on several antidepressants and antianxiety medications throughout the course of my young life only to find that these sometimes severely addictive and dangerous chemicals have done nothing but cause me further trouble. I have been prescibed these drugs by doctors that were very impersonal, condascending, and sometimes downright rude toward me, which has been the cause of my hostile and calloused feelings toward psychiatric medical professionals. I simply did not like being on any of these medications. They either made me feel lethargic, gave me terrible mood swings, turned me into a zombie, or caused other side effects, sexually, physically, and mentally. They made things, like art and activities, that I had previously taken solace in unenjoyable as they had seemingly stripped me of any emotional entanglement I had through them. They caused turmoil within my personal relationships due to the fact that I could not enjoy sex or meaningful conversation with anyone. Not only did these meds' effects just generally SUCK, but they were also dangerous for me to have on hand due to the fact that any time the urge struck me I could ingest a lethal dose of them.
You know what drug has NO lethal dose? THC. I am in no way an overzealous overly educated hippie that drones to others about marijuana legalization because I simply want to get stoned. However, I KNOW that when I ingest small controlled amounts of marijuana throughout the day, it helps to fight my depressive episodes. I HATE smoking pot. It makes me choke, I think it tastes like shit, it makes me cough, gag, and sometimes VOMIT when I smoke it. I don't like being totally ripped. That makes me uncomfortable, paranoid, nauseous, fidgity, or lethargic. It would be nice to be able to have the means to ingest this drug with comfort, like through a vaporizer, or through tinctures, pills, or oils that could be taken orally. Since I am not a raging pothead, it is very difficult for me to obtain any pot at all, let alone enough of it to put it through any kind of process that could extract its THC for a more accomidating and effective consumption for my personal use. I think it's bullshit that some asshole that just wants to get fucking loaded by wasting ridiculous amounts of pot (and money) by doing bong rips and rolling blunts can obtain obscene amounts of this stuff with great ease, while I, a person who kind of needs its psychoactive properties, have to beg and grovel at shady peoples' toes just to get an overpriced tiny amount so that I can avoid feeling like I want to blow my brains out. So, all in all, I DO believe that the legalization of marijauna is logical, even FOR the people that are just simple potheads. No one ever ODd on pot. It doesn't seem to make anyone violent. Whatever. What's the big fucking deal?
The big deal, as with ANY psychoactive substance is that at some point in its history, marijuana gained popularity with artists, musicians, writers, immigrants, and oppressed minority groups...THE KIND OF PEOPLE THAT STUCK-UP RICH WHITE CONSERVATIVE RELIGIOUS RIGHT WING CONSERVATIVE-TYPES DESPISE...and who had the power? Who had the upper hand? Those yuppie fucks with the cronies and the cash to make the necessary moves to further opress and hassle these people, that's who. The people who are afraid of pleasure and fun, whether or not they partake in it themselves, always have to find a way to ruin the fucking party, ignoring the fact that some of the things they put a ban on could potentially HELP someone. Why not put a legal ban on fentanyl, tylenol, pseudoephedrine, tobacco, or any other medication that causes significant physical harm to the human body? Because then it would have an effect on the corporate landscape and somebody's silk-lined pockets and Swiss bank accounts might turn out a little lighter, that's why. Pfizer, Astra-Zeneca, and other pharmaceutical companies might have to take a risk or do some extra paperwork.
As always, what it boils down to is STUPID PEOPLE WITH MONEY RULE EVERYTHING.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Suck My Fat Pussy

I'm so sick of the fucking selfish, assholish, inconsiderate bullshit that I have to hear, observe, and read when it concerns how shallow, insatiable, and downright mean men are toward women when it comes to their appearance and emotional hangups. So, I'm gonna try my hardest to make you fuckers feel awful about yourselves for a change.
First of all, for all you fat/scrawny/flabby fucks out there judging women based on their weight and trivial physical flaws, go fuck yourselves. I'm so tired of the whole "She should cover herself up" just cos a dimple of fat scares you, or "why don't she do something about it if she thinks she's fat" bullshit. It's fucking hard for women to lose weight, especially if they've been pregnant. Yeah, it can effect a woman's body for the rest of her life if she's been pregnant, even if she didn't carry full term. It's literally about five times easier for you fat assholes to lose weight. Also, even if we DO lose the weight, we'd have to worry about our body parts getting saggy, so in other words we'd waste all of the effort just to have to hear you pieces of shit bitching, complaining and criticizing something else. I've got an idea, why don't all of you pompous assholes get off your indulgent lazy flabby asses and do something about your physical flaws? Stop eating cheeseburgers and swilling down beer in the name of manhood.
Better yet, why don't you all do something about the shit that really matters, like your nasty wrinkly balls. That's right, we're fucking STUCK having to put up with those gross things being present even though I do believe it's safe to say that most women are appauled by them. Oh, and how about your lousy cocks? Face it, guys, the majority of women in the world would gag if they had to randomly see you naked because naked men are generally just fucking unsightly and grotesque to look at. We usually ignore your flaws in the name of love or sometimes to avoid hurting your feelings.
You lousy ass giant infants hit your sexual prime in your teens or early twenties which means day by day after the fact your cock just goes downhill. Just cos your jizz still does its job doesn't mean everything else does. It's such a letdown when we have to worry that we may get pregnant by a cock that wasn't even that fun to screw in the first place. You all wanna drool over young ass little girls cos it's the "normal" thing for a man to do? Well, guess what else is normal? Women, as much as they may be attracted to you, would probably rather be sucking a rock hard throbbing dick of an 18 yr. old than your useless semi-soft flesh turd. Super stiff penises are so much funner to play with...and besides that, they don't take forever to make hard again.
Ya know what else? It doesn't matter HOW clean of a guy you are, about two hours after you bathe, your stuff fucking stinks. God fucking forbid a woman sweat or get a little gamey...we have to deal with you guys runnin around telling every asshole you see that a poor girl smelled bad just because she didn't smell like fruit or flowers when she dropped her drawers. What about your hairy nasty asscracks, taints, and BALLS? They sure as hell don't smell that great all the fucking time, either. But we deal with it! We recognize that you're HUMAN and, whether you'd like to admit it or not, you have FEELINGS...we're just considerate enough to avoid hurting them.
You guys hurt our pride and self esteem constantly, and never own up to it. What do we get if one of us were to barely bruise you guys' fragile, infantile egos? Incessant pouting, evil hurtful retorts, and vengeful angry comments, that's what. Fuck you. We have to coddle and console you like toddlers when you can't get hard, feel ugly, or sexually inadequate and constantly reassure you about your worth. Men have been known to actually KILL women for not saying the right thing when your worthless cocks don't get hard. Oh, but WE'RE the over-sensitive psychos, right?
How many of you know what it's like to suffer from an eating disorder? How many of you have been scrutinized about every inch of your disgusting bodies by groups of women? How many of you have to lose sleep when bathing suit season comes around? How many of you have to neglect comfort for fashion? Not very fucking many, that's for god damned sure.
Next time I have to hear a dude be totally insensitive about what could potentially really hurt a self-concious girl's feelings, I'm going walk right up into their fucking face and tell them to suck the sweat from my flabby ass' crack...and if they do, I'll fart in their fucking mouth.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Drunken Letter To Jesus

Dearest Jesu...

Hi. I'm not gonna get into who I am and stuff 'beins since you supposedly already know that stuff. I'm sorry if you don't, I'm sure that could potentially be one of the things that people misunderstand about you.
I'm sure you must have been a really mentally disturbed person. I mean, you thought you were the son of GOD, I'm sure that had to be a terrible weight upon your fragile human brain. I, too am a borderline mentally ill person, and I am so very thankful that due to the modern times and the country I live in, I won't be murdered for it. I thank the evolution of ethical human thought for that and not you, and I really hope that you don't take that personally. People can be really nasty to those of us who think differently, can't they?
I can say that I know what it's like to be misunderstood...I'm so sorry for the way members of your supposed fan club misuse your doctorines and messages as I'm sure you had the best of intentions. So do I.
I do believe that you are the ultimate celebrity. You're a rock star. You're a G. I'm not saying that as a smartass, either. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I, myself have a bit of a fascination with the subject of celebrity and 'respect', and I think that even though it ended ugly, you really knew how to draw a crowd and keep them interested. I envy you for that, but I also RESPECT it.
So...I do have some questions...I know you HAD to use some of that status to get some serious Biblical poon, right? I mean, you're a MAN. MEN have needs. My ideas of you will NOT be effected if your answer would happen to be 'yes'. I wish (as I'm sure you do, too) that others would realize that you WERE HUMAN! Doesn't that make you angry? Doesn't it piss you off that people use you as an excuse to hate and persecute other groups of people the same way that you were hated and persecuted? Does it make you angry that they worship you? I really wonder, Jesus. I mean, even though it could get a little zealous at times, your teachings seem to contradict the rules that modern 'Christians' enforce nowadays and that must really grind your gears. I mean, everything in the new testament of the BIBLE must really make you mad. I know I would be angry if people used my words and philosophies to make people hate each other.
I know you are a real person. I know that you challenged the ideas present in your era, and I know that that can be a difficut load to carry. Just because I don't believe in god doesn't mean that I don't believe in you. Your presence in different religious texts only elucidates your status. It's just a shame that no one could handle it properly.
I really think that your dying by way of crucifixion enforces your ideas of dying for what you believe in...and I think that you paid the ultimate price for status and celebrity, just as so many of my other heroes have. THAT'S fucking gangsta, Jesus, and I wish I had a way to follow in your footsteps.
I ignore the Bible, I go by the book of ME, and in my book, you're an alright guy. I know that you would never judge me for my (or anyone else's) homosexuality, curiosities, or questions...I mean, you asked the ultimate questions...and they killed you for it...but you had a right, as does any human being. Thanks for being a solja, Jesus. I envy your bravery and strength.
Upmost respect, my bleedin brotha.


Sunday, March 21, 2010

Here's 4 Creepy-Ass Videos

Goddess Bunny

In case you're wondering, yes, dis bitch is SERIOUS. Learn all about her by watching her short documentary on youtube!

Robot push ups

I'm guessing this was put somewhere public, like a mall or something in...you guesses it, JAPAN. I can't imagine what nightmares that poor child watching this thing probably had later that night...and probably for the rest of his life.

Creepy Yoga Guy

What in the cocksucking fucking fuck.

The Sultan's Elephant

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Dans Macabre...My Prom

I wish so badly that personifications of death were real. Whether they be cartoonish cloaked figues in makeup or characterized by a man soaked in deadly handsomeness, perched upon something lying in wait to take me. I know I'm fucked up. Who flicks their bean while thinking about the sucking the grim reaper's cock? I do. Well, not exactly THE grim reaper, but an aging worldly man in expensive clothes. His voice would be soft, yet his words would be sharp. He would be feared by others and have an aura of foreboding creepiness that would draw dark souls to him. He would communicate with cocky smirks and lure me into submission with silence. The type of men that come to mind if were able to cast this character are very specific. Some of them are characters themselves. David Bowie, Peter Murphy, Trent Reznor, Scott Walker...so what am I saying? Is death a fucking rock star? A luridly self-obsessed god of the phallus? I'm such a woman... I guess it comes down to the idea of women being attracted to power. What other than the power to take life could be as ultimately glamourous and consuming?

Christopher Walken

Der Mude Tod

The Seventh Seal

Mr. Brink

WARNING: This will fucking scare you.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

If You're Dumb, Don't Watch Or Read Any Of This...

I originally posted this with my "Opinion Of America" blog, I think I've watched it all the way through probably once. I can't tolerate it. It makes me so angry that I want to beat myself in the head with a mallet. "Utopia?" -Bitch, go eat a bag of fucking cyanide.

This guy actually just goes to venues where really crappy bands are playing and sits outside and fucks with their retarded fans. Half of the time they don't even understand what's going on. It cracks me up when they get pissed, too...like the twat that acts like she about to whoop some ass over some damn Nickleback. Dumb ass whore.

If you can understand what this stupid little tart is even saying between her repeating of the words "so" and "like", you'll notice that she's being asked about Jay-Z, because her latest hit single makes references to him during the bridge. "I've never heard a Jay-Z song...I don't make pop music..." WHAT??? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? And, no...you don't love rock n' roll...you don't even know what pop is, let alone sweet, sweet rock n' roll, pussyface.

I'm sure most of you have already seen this one, but I had to include it just in case. HA! I definitely wouldn't want someone who knew this little about drugs and/or their effects enforcing the laws made against them.

I tried to find better examples than this...but it was slim pickins on YouTube, since, uhm, most of the people posting the "dumb question" vids were FUCKING DOLTS themselves. If you ever question your intelligence, just go to Yahoo! Answers and type in random as shit...the world is full of idiots...If you really wanna know just how idiotic, check out the ones under religion/spirituality.

I hate these fucking things. They make me suicidal and piss me the fuck off. I'd rather die than be around someone who is over the age of 8 that thinks this shit is funny or cute because if I didn't die, I'd have to murder something. I have no fucking idea what's up with the fucking "cheezbrgr" or however the fuck these retards cute spell this shit...CATS GENERALLY DON'T EVEN FUCKING LIKE CHEESEBURGERS! These things have been all over the internet for years, usually posted on retarded people's myspace pages. Anytime I've received one, I fucking deleted it. If you like LOL cats, set yourself on fire cos you're worthless.


"pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space cos there's bugger all down here on earth!"

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Look at this pile o' shit.

Being unimpressed with everything has become a devastating blow to my outlook, my character, and my interpersonal relationships. I keep feeling the aching need to experience or view something monumental and overwhelmingly beautiful, but it seems at this point that anything that could come remotely close to rejuvinating my sense of hope and wonder is out of reach and unavailable to me. Any means of exploring my surroundings are virtually non-existent or just simply not appealing. It's disheartening to realize that I have no sanctuary, no escape, no asylum. Everything outside my door is so bleak and disparaging that I'd sooner stay inside and conserve my energy, which is laughable in itself because I really don't even have any energy to spare. Everything I have the option of experiencing offers nothing but sending my mind into a negative frenzy. Contempt, jealousy, bitterness, anger, fear, and regret seem to be the only elements present within my thoughts. I'm so nasty, both inside and out. I don't even want to bathe. I don't have the drive to keep my surroundings comfortable and clean. Anything I've previously taken solace in has diminished in its quality. It's sickening and daunting to think that I'm only 27 years old and I'm already bored with everything I have access to because it's very apparent that what is available to me at this point is what I am going to be stuck with for the rest of my useless life. I have no way of achieving anything a normal fuctioning and productive adult would participate in to enlighten or entertain oneself due to the fact that I'm caught up in a catch 22 from every angle in my life. No transportation. No money to fix the transportation problem. No way to gain fulfilling employment. No means of receiving education. I can't take a class. I can't go on a vacation. I can't plant a garden. I can't take some kind of lessons to improve any of the worthless skills I possess. As terrible as it sounds, I kind of just wish that I would be stricken with some kind of terrible illness so that I would at least have an excuse to waste away the way it feels like I am. I've turned into such a complacent unappreciative brat. I've lost my faith in everything. I've become a fucking drag to be around and I know it. That's why I've cut myself off from everyone and everything. It's sounds so whiney and dumb, but I really feel like I'm just biding my time until the day comes that I am fortunate enough to receive death. It's so sad. I don't even have the means to kill myself. Well, I guess I could slit my wrists, eat poison, or find a way to hang myself, but I just can't find the power within myself to do it. I've been spending my time alone sheepishly pussyfooting around poisons, blades, and binding instruments...holding them in my hands...completing the superficial first steps...only to put them down and continue sitting on my ass in silence. I also begin the rituals of completing projects...writing, singing, drawing, playing my guitar...but the motivation to complete them never arises. I always feel like "what's the point"...I'm not good enough. It isn't going to make me feel any better. It isn't going to fix anything that's damaged. Nothing will come of it. I can't even jack off or eat. I've become so insecure that I don't even feel comfortable singing to myself. I feel a constant agitation in my brain and in my gut that I cannot find an effective way to extinguish. Sometimes I feel the urge to literally slap the piss out of my own face. I could seek help for the disorders that ail me, but I wouldn't even have a way to keep the appointments required to do so. Sometimes I feel like I should just throw myself into some godawful neighborhood and taunt someone that appears to be menacing in character until they beat me senseless or kill me, but really, what are the odds that that will happen? I'd just end up stranded somewhere scary and be even further disappointed and saddened when it became clear that there is no one that gives enough of a fuck to come pick me up. As a matter of fact, I don't even know why I'm writing this shit, so, I'm going to stop. Ugh.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

The Scenes Are Dead

Everything in the history of cool is fucking dead. It's pretty sad if you think about it. The NOW is nothing but a conglomeration of awful distastefulness. There are no current musical, artistic, or political movements worth taking the time to revolutionize. There is no hip. There is no fuck you way of doing things anymore. Everything has been melted down into a nightmarish mashup of gaudy genericism, a melting pot of cocaine party hangover diarrhea. Rock n' Roll has been raped. Punk has become pussified. Hip hop has become whorish... Jazz and folk have been so ignored that THE KIDS don't even know what the fuck it is. It's 2010...the deadline for improvement is well beyond passed. We didn't experience the bounce back that our previous decades enforced to save their dignity. This has been happening since 1995. It all went downhill from there. No wonder Kurt Cobain blew his brains out. People talk about him like he was fucking Jesus, maybe those people were on to something... Maybe he was a prophet. Maybe he saw this influx of luridly cheap awfulness on the horizon...
I will no longer follow fashion. I will no longer follow rock n roll. My church has been so badly desecrated that it will be too painful to return and worship there. It's time for me to be a grown up. I'm not sure if the world went tacky, or if I'm just not cool anymore.

Friday, March 12, 2010

What's Killing Me

How cliche to be writing underneath a street light.

The small amount of analgesics coursing through my blood began to wear off only to come back with a vengeance after a meal leaving my body feeling a familiar warmth. The warmth started to become uncomfortable and initiated the urgency to go outside for cool fresh air and cigarettes. While pacing the lot of my apartment complex I something sparked a chain of rapidly changing thoughts about recent situations. Then my pondering about myself and others made me wonder, and with the wonder came worry. I realized that my latest obsession is with none other than myself. What I'VE done...What I am doing...How people feel about ME...what I wish I could be...etc.
My own hangups are catching up with me. My insecurities may have caused paranoia, discomfort, and conflict...and they all may have been brought on by delusional scenarios in my head. I don't know. I'm too afraid to ask anyone around me whether my irratability is valid or rational. I'm scared that I may be turning into a clusterfuck combination of people I said I never wanted to be like. I don't know the proper way to go about dealing with this. I don't know how to fix any problems I've caused for myself, nor do I know how to heal any damage I may have done.
On top of all of the bullshit in my head and that my head has caused, I have the overwhelming weight of the chaos I'm in and am facing regarding everything else in my life. All of the roles I play are distorted versions of themselves. My roles as mother, sister, friend, lover, and daughter have all been so skewed and poisoned. I'm estranged from most of my friends and family. I'm afraid of the pain and disappointment that only friendships, partnerships, and LOVE can cause. I'm uncertain about my relationships with men due to the fact that I hate everything that men stand and strive for. I'm completely petrified about how everything iseffecting my son and often wonder if he even sees me as his mother.
Nothing is sure...and it's becoming more and more difficult to make even the simplest of decisions a person has to make on a daily basis. At this point it seems easier and less frightening to not do anything at all...but it isn't easy...I have to do something. I have to figure this shit out and fix everything the best I can instead of making myself believe that I'll be dead soon enough and not have to worry about any reprecussions for my actions or lack thereof. I don't know where to start.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Attn fellow fuckup poets and underachieving journalists

PLEASE. Ever since myspace has basically died, I've had to go to facebook and it sucks because it's more difficult to add cool people. It's like, most of the people that are on my facebook friends list are people I've been been loosely acquainted with throughout high school, barhopping, etc... in other words, they're people I would very rarely feel intrigued about anything they have to say or anything that they're into...so please add me if you read my blog so that I can be entertained and fascinated with all of my kindred spirits and fantasy people...besides that, it will be easier for me to find out my fellow blogger people have been writing since my filter on here has been being bombarded by some writers' entries (especially the COPY-and-Paste bloggers...

If you don't have a facebook, just fucking do it. For me??? Writers unite!


Sunday, March 7, 2010

Useless Information

Did you know that the song "Creep" de Radiohead has a huge following in the Pro-Ana/Mia community...(pro-ana/mia is a campaign mostly via the internet that supports anorexia and bulimia...includes blogs, tips, and photos of emaciated women in the fashion and entertainment industry as "thinspiration"-or, motivation to stay thin.) As it turns out, many people who suffer from anorexia and bulimia usually have REALLY low self-esteem, and usually live by a code to achieve "perfection". This would explain their embracing of the lyrical content within the song. A few websites include the lyrics to this song somewhere within the site, usually with the line "I wanna have control, I wanna perfect body, I wanna perfect soul" either highlighted or quoted.
Also, the song Creep was supposedly covered by the almighty Prince at a concert, where it turned out that someone happened to be recording this rendition. It became an underground internet sensation, as it was supposedly a very interesting performance of the song. Radiohead even praised it. As soon as it was apparent that there was something featuring Prince that he wasn't makin a ton of dough from, Prince got pissy and had it pulled from everything on the interwebs. I never even got to hear it, and I'm kinda pissed at Prince for being an asshat about it.

Security Gaurds

I was just sitting here thinking about crazy dreams I had...that made me think about prison guards, and they made me think of prison. Thinking back on the only people whose faces I saw daily or almost daily while I was locked up made me realize how much of an impact they all made on me. Counselors, inmates, caseworkers, and, yes, securiy gaurds...In a messed up way I think that people that have to deal with the system probably set their outlook on the idea of family based on those figures. One thing most people would forget is that these people that become your family during the times when you're dealing with them are being PAID to be your family. It's such a constant betrayal of trust when you drift away from these people...when they get promoted, when they get moved to another facility, when they GO HOME... It really kind of sucks when the time comes that you finally realize "this person didn't probably didn't want to be nice to me (if they even were), they HAD to be...they didn't want to call me, they HAD TO"...etc...

Every once in a while I look in the state of Illinois D.O.C.'s inmate search for people I used to be locked up with. I'm sure more of them are in there than I can find since a lot of them probably got married. Sometimes I can dig a few up. I've been thinking about writing one of them. Maybe she needs it.

Oh, and if you know someone who works as one of these figures...tell them to be as nice as they can to the people they are being "PAID" to deal with.

Friday, March 5, 2010


I'm finally figuring out part of the reason why I hate attractive people more than ever right now...it's jealousy, but it's on such a weird level that it's going to sound completely nuts once I try to explain it...because it is.
Yeah. I was totally sexually abused as a toddler/young child...and I'm going to make an educated guess that my being abused has plenty to do with the fact that (brace yourself-it's messd up...) since an extremely young age I have strived to be sexually attractive toward others, mainly men. When other little girls were wishing for a frou frou princess dress, I was taking dirty pictures of myself. I remember being sexually attracted to men and boys earlier than primary school age. I wouldn't think about how much I wanted a boy to share his candy with me or how badly I wanted the male substitute teacher to call on me in class, I wanted them to assault me.
Even though I had these fantasies of being insanely hot, I still knew that I wasn't. I did, however, learn that as long as she's not a total dog, a girl can screw just about anyone she wants to. Times have changed, and so have my looks. I used to be able to pass for cute despite my flat booty, wide hips, pale skin, and scars... I once had other qualities that were intriguing about me that could make up for what was ugly. Everything at this point is just ugly on top of ugly. I don't have any way to pass for attractive in any way anymore and IT'S REALLY GETTING TO ME.
What it really comes down to is that I'm extremely upset about the fact that no man will probably ever look at me and think "I wanna fuck her", ever, ever again. I can't stand to think of how stupid I look when I go anywhere...all trying to be cute...it must make me look like a total ass. The thing is, though, I hate to think that I'm just gonna have to start dressing like a dyke. It's the only way I can look halfway decent without just looking like a gross girl that tries too hard. IT doesn't help that I have an odd fashion sense and would feel incredibly uncomfortable in contemporary fashions that are more available for me. I'm always afraid I'll have what I call the "fat girl at a wedding reception" look.
I'm getting old. I don't want to. I'm getting fatter. I don't want to. I'd really almost rather die than be unfuckable.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Ghost Turds..A BUM Deal.

Anyone familiar with the term "ghost turd"? Well, ya know how most people gotta look down at their product after dropping a brick? Okay, well, a ghost turd is whenever that little bastard slinks its way so far into the toilet hole that you can't see it. So, you KNOW there's a big ole lincoln log in there, you've felt it vacate, smell its presence, and hear it splash...but you can't see it. They really piss me of. All of that toil and effort...just so I end up looking down and not get to see what it was all about. Whatta letdown. The past few days I've had a real problem with these. I haven't seen any of my stink pickles in over 72 hours.