football face

dear it ain't that easy diary,

it is nearly impossible to tell the difference between circumstances and premeditations. why not? it just adds more questions when you wonder how things happen and why. you don't have the right to ask why that is gunna happen to you. so don't bother when it does. you should know anyway. it's called KARMA babe, i hate to keep on reminding you, like you pestered me for sex, but you know. on a night in september, you sealed the deal. on a morning in january, you shifted your twisting knife for the very last time. tick tock tick tock tick tock the sand is draining out. soon it will be all gone. then i wonder, ooh i wonder, do you think this was a game of stick ball? no do-overs-ima play t-bag, not t-ball.

thunder rising

dear my good fuckers diary,

the thunder woke me up at 2:14PM, but my dumb ass went right back to sleep without any difficulty. i really did. snore town. i realized becky wasn't there with me, and then after the big boom, she reappeared suddenly- only to take my sleeping breath away when she got her right spot. KERPLUNK. and there she stayed- til 4:15- when the unibomber and prince william returned. i slept so damn good. i did. i keep thinking i should go back. i want to. just to hold my girl- if nothing else. the grump tried to hump me today. i wasn't down for that. sometimes i'll let him- just because i know it makes him feel like more of a man dog, and he ain't doin nothing- but today he was after my head- and well- lining up for a 69 with my male dog didn't quite sit right with me today. plus i was tired. and something about seeing his balls swinging above me just seemed wrong on all eight levels. i punched him in his ass. i'll tell you, he got off right away- and when i say that, i mean the fucker moved off and away from my head quick. i went to sleep soon after.

paper hairplaines

dear teaching others how to effectively communicate diary,

moving your lips is one way to push words from your throat to express thoughts- which is the most common form of communication. sign language, that's another common form. then you have body language, which i find most telling, but we'll come back to that. then there is sexual communication. ever hear of telepathical or subliminal communication? those two are spooky types of gettin and receiving messages. there's the old fashioned ways, writing a letter, making a phone call, and now-a-days, electronic transmissions of such alphanumeric codes. oh hey- skywriting, a billboard, or rock arranging for the extreme message enthusiast. but body language is the most accurate way of getting a message, i think, because if you look at the face of the sender DURING the actual transmission, you can immediately tell if the information is factual. otherwise it's up to the receiver to determine if they want to apply merit to what they've now learned or dismiss it as roadside propaganda like all the other rubbish that has spewed from his worthless mouth.

naptime in the city

dear thinking about the bed again diary,

when i start thinking about the bed, man, no other thoughts get there rightful place in my brain. everything gets pushed away and whatever i look at starts looking like a bed. towels look like pillows. becky looks like a bed partner- even when she is just up prancing around. other things that normally aren't viewed as soft and puffy- suddenly swell and charm me into thinking they want me to lay on them- a mirage. then, my shoes slide off. step one- to the left to the left. i don't need permission. step two-to the right to the right. ima slip away and do the only thing left to do.

somewhere- i have another pair

dear it ain't someday yet diary,

i always said that someday i would wear a dress. tahdah. panties too? yup. didn't even have to look for underwear, there they were. i only have two pairs- from when i had surgery. i wanted to look normal for afterwards- you know- present a good after image. i mean who doesn't own underwear anyway- besides me? i hate underwear. it feels unnatural to wear them. ugh. phony like. then there are those lines you get. well fuck all that. and the persistent itching and digging. i got over underwear and the wearing of... long ago. shame on it. less to wash anyway. plus it does give the meaning of, 'shitting your pants,' the true meaning. and not only that- it was less to find at the hero's house when i left in a hurry, which was never- come to think of it, SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. oh dear. but i do have a dress on today- and it ain't even someday.

mommy is a mean mommy

dear poor little becky diary,

you should have seen her sleeping today. she came up and kissed me and suggested i move over just a little bit so she could cuddle next to me. it worked. i did. she sits down so hard. she goes, 'PLOP' and if she does it on your chest (like she always does) it will take your breath away. then she will back herself up til she is spooning perfect. then she wants you to hold her- and the tighter the better. then she will stay frozen like that for hours. she wont move an inch. then i got up and covered her up and she figured i was coming back and stayed for awhile and when i didn't come back- she FINALLY got up and now she's in here with me- sleeping again. now ima sneak back to bed, heehee, and it wont be two minutes and she'll be in there back in bed with me again. i love becky.

wipe me down

dear flying in circles diary,

visiting our local planned parenthood in my dream was weird because i was really at the actual place where it is at now and i don't think i was even in that office but maybe once in my whole life. i used to work at planned parenthood when it was out by the lake in the tiny building by the old health department. i checked all the iron levels by doing finger sticks and put cultures in the jars and lit the candles and sealed them and shit. that was after i met the doctor at the hospital when i was a candy striper. she was such a good woman. her name was marcy. she really liked me for some reason- she understood how i thought. we shared so many laughs. i didn't like being around all that pussy all the time- it was just so overwhelming- that smell- so i left on good terms. but circling around in the waiting room last night was more than what i would consider overwhelming on any scale. does anyone remember the 'tom twister' ride at six flags? you stand in a round cylinder room and they start spinning you and gravity pulls you to the wall and they drop the bottom out? in my dream, it was exactly like that, EXCEPT, the room was still- i was the only thing moving and the walls were the only things that kept me from flying away. the walls of the planned parenthood waiting room.

i didn't get the part i didn't want

dear missing the cut diary,

well. you guys. i missed the cut. they ain't looking for me. and i wont be looking for them again either. i look at it this way, it was their opportunity and they just totally missed it. i know i tell you guys, "never give up on your dreams," and all that, and it is fine if you use a high pitched squeaky assed mocking voice when you read that to make fun of me, i still don't want you to ever, "GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS," but i don't want you to drink spoiled expired milk either. smell your dreams before you keep pursuing them from time to time- and make sure they ain't rotten.

frosted flakes

dear my hands stink again diary,

for what it is worth, my pants have been up all night. i did a load of dishes- thought about eating again- skipped that. believe me, the last thing i need to be doing is eating. i thought about how good some homemade fajitas would be though and they were the best ever. my kids can make me do anything. even

make fajitas at midnight. fuckin steak, onions, sour cream, salsa, omg, ima pig. i am so full it is wrong on seven levels. all we've done is eat today. i swear.  the chicken boobs i marinated in italian dressing were so good, then the huge sirloin burgers two hours later, then the hot dogs on the fire after that, then the fajitas. oh my. there is no way we ate that much today, but we did. if i ate that way everyday i would weigh 619 pounds in a year- maybe two. i dunno how long it would take to pile on 475 pounds, but it sure wouldn't happen overnight. i saw this one lady today, who is younger than i, (hee hee hee) and eight years ago this bitch was smokin hot. SUPER MODEL HOT.

she was skinny and had a super sweet ass, hot boyfriends, and lived the fast paced single newly divorced lifestyle. she looked good, she really did. i didn't think her daughter was good enough for MY son, and still don't, and now i REALLY DON'T. it makes me feel great. tony the tiger greeaaat- knowing i wear all of the same clothes i've worn for the last 20 years. sure, ive got some new clothes along the way, but i still kept all my old shit. i betcha=====> she didn't.

all that for that

dear letting the days go by diary,

i know there isn't much i could do to stop the days from going by, but i can sure fight how fast they fly by, or at least try, cant i? i'll go down kicking and screaming if i have to. sometimes i wish i had a magic carpet. i wouldn't ride around on mine though. i want to roll stuff up in mine and make things disappear. like poof city. i would roll the unibomber up first. bye bye unibomber. then i would roll up all my clothes and make finding new pajamas a serious priority. then id roll the grump up and away. it would be so much quieter around here then. and then i would roll my magic carpet up and put it in a big sleeping bag and tie the end shut with a knotted rope and hangit up downstairs by the rafters- i would- for the next time the shit don't float.




i cant believe i posted this either, but it must have a utilitarian use for something other than the obvious.
if not, i believe i may have found one. 

 

there's gunna be consequences

dear put a stop to that diary,

i have a friend who is in a situation. but she JUST had surgery and her body wont heal because SHE KEEPS SELLING HER BLOOD FOR CAT FOOD. to make matters worse, every time she sells her blood, SHE SEES THE HERO. today she calls to give me the whole scoop. i had to let her go. honestly, i dunno what upsets me more, how she jeopardizes her health or how she wants me to hear about the the doings of the little dick city worker blood sucking hero. i try to tell her how healing from MAJOR surgery should be more important than anything else, but nobody listens to me. i'm not giving her anymore money. i guess it is possible she has a crush on the hero. stranger things have happened.

charms orange suckers are yummy

dear insurance lady diary,

i feel really self conscious about now, because my kid, prince william, blabbered out my web address at the insurance office OVER AND OVER until she wrote it down. i knew she was kewl since i met her on june 19th when i walked in her office last year and sat down. i just felt at home there- like she knew me already. well she's sure in for a treat. she will never prolly be able to look at me the same way ever again. but that's okay. i don't have many secrets anyway. SHOUT OUT TO STATE FARM  INSURANCE- THE BEST INSURANCE I HAVE EVER HAD. before state farm i'd had the same insurance for sixteen years and i'd pretty much had it with them. my new insurance lady wrote the 'dear john' letter to them and everything. then my old insurance started calling and crying- leaving the most pitiful messages on my voice mail. finally that stopped. then the MOST amazing thing happened. i am still benefiting from this today in fact. I GOT A $574 CHECK IN THE MAIL FROM MY ESCROW ACCOUNT AT THE BANK AND MY HOUSE PAYMENT DROPPED THIRTY BUCKS. what do you think about that? during the most EXPENSIVE YEAR IN MY HISTORY. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. so i got a new pair of boots. some of you should remember that. anyway ima eat a chicken boob and rest. it has been an exciting day. yay.

to grip or not to grip

dear holes in his neck diary,

he says i left a hole in his neck. i didn't. nothing like seeing your kid graduate that'll make you feel old. for reals. tell me why all the other parents look all antique though? like great grandparents? i almost felt out of place. am i supposed to look older? maybe i should work on that. i'll try.

the dutiful spouse

dear when i go there again diary, 

i am not sure how long i will be allowed to stay. generally it is a moment by moment deal. i've said it a million times before, i can no longer make plans, i make appointments now- yo- ima whore. i told you when you went there- there would be no going back and yet you want to run your mouth and give me all this crap? determination and retribution, skill and much remorse- what is done is finally done now and we must let it run its' course. ima stand back and watch it from the sidelines- it is much safer back here. i'm not saying that as a threat, but i wouldn't want to be you. please don't take this the wrong way- but you need some different shoes. being something that you are not- ain't doing you the justice you deserve. oh but let us not get in to settling the scores right now or you will feel intimidation again. in fact, consider our score settled, for now, and try to go about your life. you're gunna have to be honest and true to yourself before you ever can be with your wife. stupid.

the timing

dear the second birthday diary,

i remember how happy i has when i brought my baby home, but i also remember how worn out and sore i was after pushing the little fucker out- and my boobs- wow- my boobs hurt so bad. that was the worst part- prolly- maybe- kinda- sorta. marty, my dog, no sooner did i get in the door with prince william and set him down on the coffee table- hadn't even shut the front door yet- old marty pants- he was 3.5 at the time- made sure and locked eyes with me and humped over and took a shit in the living room- AT THE OPEN FRONT DOOR. he was pissed off about the baby. i hadn't spoke to him. never will i forget that pile of dogshit. marty NEVER shit in the house. he would die first. so i will just bet you anything when my parents each drove separately to champaign to get me today- it is a trip each of them never forgot either. my mom used to tell me this story when she would tuck me in at night. i would beg her to tell me how they got me. they checked me out like a puppy at the pound. my dad stopped at sears and got me a pretty pink dress in peoria, but mom said it was for a toddler and i couldn't come home in it, i came home next to it. dad followed mom home and they stopped in brettwood village, where they ran into elizabeth and ron. they were my first new friends. elizabeth made my wedding cake 20 years later when i married the unibomber. elizabeth and her husband DIED THE SAME DAY OF NATURAL CAUSES a few years ago. so the story then goes, when they got me home and my grandpa came over, my grandma had made noodles and my grandpa gave me a noodle on the kitchen table in my car seat- at evelen days old- and my mom started freaking out. this is supposedly what caused my lifelong addiction to chicken and noodles and grandpa told that noodle story until the day he died. he prolly told it to everyone in arizona after they moved out there- even to people who didn't know me. i suppose it could be true. i'm just thankful my mom got to have her baby. i do hope i was a sweet one for her- like my babies were for me. i was. i am sure.

the file folders

dear big opportunity diary,

what do you consider big? what do you consider an opportunity? would you like to lick my ear? my neck? my finger? it was sure cold tonight when i went outside and drove down the road with the window down. i turned the heater on and still froze my ass off. i wish my heater blew harder and hotter sometimes. the good news letter came in the mail today. i opened it. then i read it and that is how i knew it was a good news letter. it is exciting to get what you want sometimes, it is a treat. i try not to get used to the taste of it though because victory can be bittersweet.

i got a strap

dear bra strap diary,

do me a favor. open wide and hammer down. i got a strap. ain't nothin funny about that. it holds ten. don't laugh. i only have two i know, for now, but one is all i need. i heard the bell ring in my basement. it ain't lunch time. i just ate a steak. get a strap. round one. who is coming out of which corner. everlast. got your strap? are you down? are you out? round two. i heard that bell again. it was my phone this time. hello? i cant hear you. wait.. i got my strap on. round two again. ding ding ding. it is a dragon attack. do me a favor. open wide and put your hammer away. you smashed my strap and now you clap? 

Lucky Strikes (non filters) GAG me

dear long night with the club diary,

the steaks that are cooking are going to be THE BOMB. i got the squad on them now. i stopped outside arthur and got them on the way home from getting prince william earlier this afternoon. then we went to the store and got all kinds of ignorant shit to munch on. ima marinate some chicken boobs for tomorrow prolly. william specifically asked for potato soup so ima make some with ham in it for him, he loves it when i put ham in there. sometimes when i make potato soup my kids eat nothing else until it is totally gone- breakfast, lunch, AND dinner. some of my friends have never even had potato soup. i grew up on the shit. sometimes i put cheese in it and sometimes i don't. the secret is to fry the potatoes before you turn them in to soup and that's really it. everything else is pretty basic. my kids will eat anything. i got lucky. i got lucky more than once. i get lucky all the time. i even got lucky tonight, just not as lucky as ida hoped- but lucky enough and luckier than some.

sorry BOB BARKER

dear rodent make a pasture king diary,

after eating many lonely field mice a pussy cat is now a mighty lion- you're really something aren't you. at least to some you prolly are. you're still a stupid cat to me. a flea infested feline. so then we have the giant cats- where are the giant dogs? wolves ain't big and pretty. sometimes i wonder if things didn't work out exactly the way they were supposed to. some of our species got more flavors than others. i dunno. where did all the good people go? the happy people? the people that smile for no reason? the silly people? the funny people? the light hearted people? it seems like, to me anyway, all the mean ass cats came along and scratched and hissed until all the joy in life drained away. i am a whore and i ain't afraid of no hissin pussy. i gotta have some fun you guys. it is time to send them cats to the pound. euthanize them scratchin hissin cats. HELP CONTROL THE PET POPULATION AND FEED THEM TO YOUR SNAKE.

dear diary i am a whore

dear i am a whore diary,

i am a whore who is cold today. i am a whore who is hungry. i am a whore who is not tired. i am a whore who has not brushed their hair in two days. i am a whore who has chipped fingernail polish on my right hand, but not my left hand. i am a whore who needs to blow her nose. i am a whore who has a dog next to her that has his butthole gently nested upon my leg. i am a whore who can't do much about that. i am a whore who isn't sure why her dog insists on having his butthole touch my skin. i am a whore who is still dealing with ants. i am a whore who has clean jeans. i am a whore who has missed two phonecalls today. i am a whore who just saw her dad drive by. i am a whore who slept with the window open. i am a whore that smelled becky fart last  night. i am a whore who has never written like this. i am a whore who liked it. i am a whore who would like to thank whoever searched for "dear diary i am a whore," cuz that is what made me do this.

to pee or not to pee

dear to pee standing up diary,

it really isn't fair, but i gave it my best shot. i don't have any problem admitting this either. i have tried peeing every way there is. truthfully, the best way is the missionary way, the way we are supposed to do it and that is how i do it now. but when i was a kid- believe me- i tried. see, if i could stand up to pee, i wouldn't have to sit down all the time. women have to damn near disrobe just to pee, i am telling you- something ain't right here. what really downright pisses me off is how the unibomber can piss in the car. yeah, you heard me. he can piss in a mountain dew bottle, put a lid on it and put it back on a product shelf- if i wanted to do some shit like that- gimme a bucket and a funnel. last year i was accused of peeing in a gas tank. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. this absolutely infuriated me because i have always just wanted to pee standing UP, let alone be able to direct my stream into a certain controlled area. i have always wanted a penis anyway- but really just to have and hold during dinner. i never thought about actually peeing out of one.... not mine anyway.

busted again

dear finding money in the driveway diary,

so the mexicans busted me. we were having the best conversation (you said you liked my blog) and i had to run inside for a minute and i came back outside and the mexicans told me a man just took off real fast when they saw him. i was heartbroke you were gone, but i knew exactly what the mexicans were talking about and tried to calm them. "it's okay, it's ok, he wasn't supposed to be here," i told the mexicans- who clearly didn't understand why i was so relaxed about the whole deal, "i can get arrested if they find me near him." i never did find out who those pesky mexis were, but after they were gone i found an envelope. when i opened it- i couldn't believe my eyes. five thousand dollars. then a fire truck and meat wagon drove by blaring their sirens and whorns and woke me up. i ran to the window to check my driveway for any possible envelopes or mexicans and found a soaking wet prairie news shopper. oh boy.

a majestic mess

dear anderson cooper diary,

watching anderson cooper in joplin before i went to sleep is what tainted all further dreams for the next 9 hours. hey, i have been through a tornado and i know what it is like, and our house made it through- well all but the roof and plywood and shit the shingles get nailed to. when the tornado cut the path up through the back yard, it graciously decided to skip over our house, prolly because the Lord knew my dumb ass dad had no homeowners insurance at the time. yup. i had just won the lottery (pick four don't get excited) so guess what my winnings were spent on? i am glad that obama and them will be visiting sunday to the ravaged site. i cant tell you how much of an uplifting experience it was when hillary clinton came and touched my babies and pulled them with brenda edgar in my little red wagon down the road. and when the cnn helicopter caught my brother and the unibomber smoking whatever it was they were smoking while they were laying on the roof while fixing it- and broadcast that to the world live- you know- that IS reality tv. things will get better in joplin- i am sure there were the lucky ones and the really unlucky ones. the property can be replaced- it's the faces that will forever leave the empty spaces.   

cheese please

dear pizza girl diary,

when i was 17 and delivered pizzas, i made more tips than any of the other drivers and always had a car full of people and loud music for the delivery. i got in trouble sometimes, but i was a girl and i told them that, and showed my boss all my tips- which were usually double what the guys would net. we had so much fun taking pizzas all over town, my friends and i, that was NOT a job. it was a rolling party. sometimes people would ask me to run to the gas station for cigarettes and even beer. because i had my friends with me, we could always accommodate- thus raking in the much bigger tips. i loved wearing my short mini skirts and doing my hair and playing my part just right. being 17 was a great age to deliver pizzas. i wish i could have stayed 17 just a little bit longer- plus gas wasn't but $1.04 a gallon. i'd still deliver pizzas prolly- or at least have them delivered more.

define hot dog and thinking

dear in bed thinking diary,

when i cant sleep- i think. when i think- i try and sleep to keep from thinking. when i do sleep i dream, which  i think is THINKING WHILE YOU'RE SLEEPING, but nobody ever asks me, and that's fine. i was just having a dream about hot dog, not a hot dog, but the hot dog- a proper noun. i dunno what made me have a dream about him- gawd, but he kept a bed of fine gravel in his car as carpet and it kept on getting in my shoe (in my dream) so that was annoying. i've never been in a car with hot dog- so i dunno how or what he keeps on the floor of his car. he wont ever be a customer of mine, so i don't have to worry about it much i suppose. i woke up hungry as fuck for a hamburger though, i can tell you that. i went to bed completely by accident and now i am up and hungry as a wolf. it is already thursday in time zone land- and you wont hear any complaints out of me about that shit. i would like to know how this rock got in my sock- if at all possible.

busy mouth

dear yummy gum diary,

at the store tonite i saw this gum i'd never seen before and really, i ain't a big gum chewer, but how i have lived this long without this gum in my life?? no answer for that. SMARTIES BUBBLE GUM BALLS- who fucking knew. made by the FORD GUM and MACHINE COMPANY, INC,  their website is http://www.fordgum.com but i have yet to visit there, so it might be dumb. i am on my third piece already, i've had cherry, grape and now the orange. they were each so good- i cant even tell you which i liked the best- yes- THAT GOOD. i like it when my mouth is busy between customers. then i don't get all cramped up when i get busy working again. life is tough, but i love this gum. it is so very tasty.

safety first

dear what i did diary,

it's not about all the mud and gook in the yard, it is about the end result. the flowers. the grass. the fucking tomatoes. only God knows how i feel about tomatoes. even if the whole world is afraid me, the flowers in my yard aren't. tomorrow is my favorite day of the week again AND it is a safe day. it will be an exceptional twenty four hour period. zoom in and get a close-up folks- do zip on by- do a fly over- i look at velocity data for rotating winds- and when i don't see any- i fly. ima be a cheerful mother fucker tomorrow- no grudge carrying on my mind. i got plenty of flowers to take care of.

the windex kisser

dear practice makes perfect fun diary,

every time i clean a mirror, i always kiss it after i am done. first, i make sure the door is shut- for obvious reasons, and then i position myself just so- so that i can get my face directly in front of the clean mirror. i look deep into the mirror for a minute and i imagine a plump set of awaiting lips and then i am ready. i outline the set of lips with my tongue and then i whole mouth kiss the mirror. i smash my tongue on the clean glass until it slides across every part. i call this tongue yoga. these are my tongue salutations. i don't get to kiss right now- in real life, but i don't intend on forgetting how either. bottom line.

the good life

dear triggers diary,

because the best side of my old house was on the news last night- that is why i dreamed i moved back in there. i always dream we live on william street anyway- the house where everything started changing. sometimes i dream there is a sick man being held in the basement. sometimes i see all my things are still there- just the way i left them. when i do drive by there today- i cringe at the mere sight of the condition of the place- and console myself all the way home by reminding over and over, "it did NOT look that way when you lived there my dear, not even on the WORST of days." how is it that the house next door that ALWAYS looked like shit- still looks the exact same though- and the news lady just now called it, "dilapidated?" i don't understand that. i have ten thousand pictures of that beautiful house i loved so much and could have lived in forever. you can see the love in each one and know the subjects and walls are happy. i don't bother taking many pictures of the place these days, for me it no longer meets my standards. but i hope the people who live there now are pleased with all of their efforts.

deductive seasoning

dear foul balls diary,

the unibomber stunk so bad this morning- i couldn't stand one more minute of it. he started to unload the dishwasher and i made him quit. he asked why and i screamed, "BECAUSE YOU'RE STINKING UP THE WHOLE HOUSE WHEN YOU LIFT YOUR ARMS UP FOR FUCKS SAKE."
"IT AIN'T ME," he bellows back. but it was him, it is him, and whenever there is a smell like that IT IS ONLY HIM that can smell like that. good gawd. so where do you think he is at now? MY BATHTUB. i'll be bleaching that bitch out later today. VIOLATION. i cant lay naked in there now. eww. i wish they made a tub condom. i would make him use one. i hate knowing someone else has been in my tub. am i crazy? is this wrong of me? i cant even drink after him anymore. things are different now. we have our own blankets. mine is blue- his tan. if all roads lead to nowhere, i got there a long time ago. i'm on the sidewalk now- where is it gunna take me? do people look in trees when they lose something? that is where i hide things. and you know when the rain comes straight down there ain't no wind behind it.

a full house

dear do i have a surprise for you diary,

guess who is up again already? yup. yup yup yup. i cant believe it either. i woke myself up talking and here i am. i'll be tired again in ten point five minutes, but the dream i was having had to GO. sometimes the only way to change the channel on the old dream tv- is to get up and do some jumping jacks (metaphorically speaking- i don't exercise out of bed) and then turn the old tv back on and see what comes on again. i wasn't about to sit there and dream about the hero in a 'super hero' capacity. no fucking way. my second birthday is in two days. my parents got me when i was eleven days old- so growing up i always got two cakes, but only gifts on one day. now that i am grown, i get a cake anytime i want, but i don't need any presents on either day. i get shit all year long because i guess i don't act right when i get a present. the look on my face when i open the dumbest shit ever is prolly not what anyone expected and i never was any good at poker.

titty lotion; luck or skill?

dear frisky cats are now food diary,

i do not want to go back to bed at all, nope, toooo quiet there. i thought about going to mcdonalds, but i took a big pork roast out instead. i will cook that bitch later. i caught a fly on my forehead the other day. i just reached up and picked it off my head. was that luck or skill? i say the fly was fucking retarded. i didn't know what i was doing or IDA NEVER DONE IT, it freaked me the fuck out and i am sure the fly felt the same way. i threw it on the floor and becky ate it. then we kissed. i didn't have a problem with the kissing because i couldn't see the fly anymore, but i really hate bugs. the fly had a blue bodice. eww. it still gives me the willies knowing it was between my fingers. eww. so i think i am allergic to my purple bra. it makes my boobs itch. i am either allergic or it is the ribbed material. ima only wear it with my purple shirt i guess. cuz when i take it off- all i wanna do is scratch my tits. and when you have nails as long as mine are- that can cause terrible scratches. my tits are now irritated from all the digging and scratching. i had to put lotion on, cetaphil lotion is what i use on my tits. it's the best titty lotion around. i think most every whore uses cetaphil on their tits. if they don't then they should. i tell my balding customers to use it on their heads too- it works good. docs recommend it cuz it don't clog up pores like the cheaper shit. it is nice to put on your rod too, but you'd be better off usin something else for 'that' cuz it don't last but about 18 or 19 seconds.

another quickie

dear getting lost in a crowd diary,

i wonder what my hair will look like. i went to bed with it wet and down. its pretty much dry now. i haven't done this (or that) in a long time, gotten up in the middle of the night like this and posted some random ass shit and then went back to bed. usually i am up til now posting and then go to bed. it is weird coming in the back door. i can do what i want. ima big girl. i might even drink some orange juice. or i might not. i know i wouldn't eat a squirrel EVEN IF I WAS HUNGRY AND HAD ONE. i don't give a fuck. the storm has passed. the birds are chirping again, prolly telling each other to, "put the umbrellas away." shit all that noise for such a tiny little storm. what a bunch of bullshit, for crying out loud. i got all prepared to float away and swallowed up and it is already over. unreal. deja vu? possibly.

the grievance

dear go to town diary,

complaining is my specialty, but usually when there is nothing wrong. when something is wrong- i get pissed off- simple as that. so there. i just wanted you to know that for future reference- in case there was ever an issue that came up. i mean we are fine now, i'm just sayin. if anything were to change later on. you cant say you didn't know. see, i feel better already. full disclosure. and while we're at it, you know everything i write on my little blog here is all made up, right? i mean... even if you think it could be about you... it's prolly not. you might be married to a cuntface, or you might even be a cuntface yourself, SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE, but just because the shoe fits- doesn't mean you get to wear it around all the time. it doesn't WORK that way MAN. besides, i don't always write about that shit anyway. i WILL and I AM blogging about many other topics hourly. so there.  

don't feed the fucking DEER they EAT WEED

dear boom boom boom diary,

romance is in the air again. i am up now. burn some of the candles. the birds are chirping, prolly warning the other birds, "get your umbrellas." the lightning is here now too- i just saw it. i really dont care what it does today. i have no plans. i never have any plans. i quit making plans. my plan is to never make plans again. the angry sky is almost above me. it wont be long now. i am not scared like becky is. poor becky. i'll hold her tight- it does nothing for her fright. i love the rainy mornings. i love the smell. i love it when it is supposed to be bright outside and it's dark as hell. i love to see the front line- move across a field. i love to see the corn bend and sway, as if it's trying to yield. rain makes everything new again and it washes away the birdshit- it helps all the marijuana to flourish outside in the woods and hopefully the deer will stay away from it. you know i fucking hate them deer and we have so many- we really need to do something about this. has anyone noticed our growing deer population? wtf is up with that shit? and why do PEOPLE FEED THEM?

i just love the way y'all taste in my mouth

dear rolling over diary,

thirteen thousand stawkers. what a head count. by land or by air? oh what does it really matter- you're here and i am so happy you are. thirteen thousand of you. am i a whore yet? oh truly i hope so. it is all i have ever wanted you know- to be a whore. i think i was born later than i was supposed to be.... maybe by about fifty years or so. i would have made one hell of a saloon girl- even though i don't drink. i would have loved to wear those fancy ass dresses too. or ida made a good wife- a good whore at home- waiting after the war. i suppose it matters none now- i am whorin' around with y'all. 13,000 STAWKERS LATER, i cant believe it's true- i am a retarded whore- and you let me drivel on you.

the hearing

dear library of congress diary,

i have written so many books that i hate even saying the word book and besides that,  nobody fucking reads books anyway. they hold them open and look at them and pretend to read them- just to look smart. fuck a book. who really reads anyway but people in prison and people who are sick. and really half the people in prison cant read til just before they get out or they're sick and then they don't wanta read. people just ain't got the attention spans like they used to. if the book dont open itself and suck a dude off- they ain't gunna buy it. i get bored halfway through writin a book because i put myself in the readers shoes and throw that bitch to the curb. snore town. if ever i would write again, which i wont, i would not write a book. books are stupid. i wont ever write again though. i am so done with writing. plus, i don't know how to spail or nothing. and my grammar. and sentence fragments. or whatever. i am certainly not cut out to right. i hate writing. i just think with my fingers so i can remember what i was just thinking about cause i forget sometimes what i am sayin.

the inspiration of a dick hopp

dear flooded by the memories of court diary,

privately, i do think about dick hopp. not dicks hopping, just dick hopp. i did just now think about dick hopp again and here is why. look. so as you can see, i cleaned my spice rack tonight and i think i did a fantastic job and i couldn't wait to share it with everyone. however my mind kept going back almost a month- to april 29th, to that dreadful day in court, which really wasn't bad at all when the spineless tiny dick hero decided to stalk ME with the Judge as a witness, but it was simply dreadful before court began because everyone and their brother was made to sit and listen to dick hopp go on and on about his spice rack. over the past few weeks here at home, since my slick and swift departure from court, i've caught myself daydreaming about dick hopp, i've wanted to puke mind you, and tonight i finally completed what dick hopp inspired me to do. i dedicate my work to the worthless dick hopp. thank you. i will no longer give dick hopp another thought until we meet again in court which i hope will be again very fucking soon.

the repeat

dear parking on the sidewalk diary,

wonders never cease to happen and the bedroom light was on. go undress the elephant in the room CUNTFACE, daddy is in the house. was it scripted or was it a surprise? we wont ever know. i personally don't want to know because my mind as done somersaults all over every scenario in the last hour since i found out- entirely by accident. i am anxious for the corn to grow- and you know it will. it was beans last year you know- they got off easy. i slept a lot easier when there were beans in between my neighbor and i, and i think the coyotes liked it better too. they sound like yippin babies under the high open windows when they run through the bean fields on a hot steamy still summer night. i miss their shrieks and screams. just as daddy misses the shrieks and shrills of the wicked cuntface. even a crop has a season. it is planted, it grows, it is harvested, the yield, and then that particular crop it is planted all over again in the very same place, EVERY OTHER YEAR.

christmas wish and the spailing list

I just need a smart phome #DEARDIARY, cuz i need to blog while DRIVIN.

closer to home

dear i feel more hostile than other whores i know diary,

to be a great whore there are qualities you must retain that cause the opposite sex to want to hang around you more than their own gender and thus be willing to shell out the cash to enter the guarded premises. yes or no? duh? that's generally how i see that it works. hook up with a whore, pay for the service, get going on the project, and part ways. right? no monkey business. the hook up part is where all the value of the service is determined. you got fast food. you got a sit down meal. and you got home cooked dinners. then you have the fancy shit. you ain't gunna find much of the fancy shit around here, trust me on that. you're gunna find the nasty shit. it is pretty easy to find what you need. but if i may, i recommend a whore where you can bring it all to the table. find one where you can just let it all hang out, because it's all about you and what you need. just fuck that little bitch silly. even if it is your beautiful wife of twenty years, she wants you to fuck her like a whore and you pay for that shit. so why not. betcha i know a lonely hero who wishes he woulda.

at the bitch house

dear towing the line diary,

love isn't always on time. i need to take a bath again. i have the little sandcastles growing on top of my head again, but the only thing stopping me is the presence of the unibomber in the basement. i don't want an audience for the heavy duty head scrub today. being with someone for so long isn't really all that it's cracked up to be. i knew this quite some time back, but i think he is just realizing it about now. i quit participating fully in our shared life about, oh i dunno, six years ago maybe, and i try to engage in friendly times with my family, but let's be honest, we all hate each other. we all love each other, but we all hate each other. nobody listens to anyone, we all do our own thing, and if i turned up missing- you wouldn't see the unibomber on nancy grace crying. what keeps this family together is strange and hard to figure out. sometimes there is so much pain- it does no good to shout. i think that is what keeps me from being normal and having clean hair everyday- that feeling of worthlessness that gets in my way. i always check for head lice while picking through the sandcastles in my hair, and while i have never found any- you never do know what may be living there.

shit on the wall

dear i just took a nap again and it was fantastic diary,

i feel like a new whore. ready to face the world again. hello world. what an exciting way to resume life and the challenges it'll prolly not have waiting for me. ima go make myself a refreshing beverage and wash my hands. growing up on the farm made me okay with getting and staying dirty. my mom would often refer to me as a 'tom-boy' because i was always down at the pond getting muddy. i think i could touch the worm, if i had it all to do over. i wouldn't think twice about running the hook through any part of a worm now, but as a little girl, my guts were so weak. i grew into a much stronger whore and out of my tom-boyish ways, for the most part, but i do know that that is what gives me the stomach i have to face the ugly i see everyday.

validated doggie bag

dear dear oh dear diary,

i am afraid the snake will eat another kitten today. i am also afraid if she gets to liking the taste of them- she might not go back to rats. i can still see the lump in her from yesterday and she is looking up at the sky for another one to fall. i'll go get her one in a little while. my neighbor will be so pleased if she'll eat the whole litter, she's sick to death about what to do with them all. i ain't. i have full faith they'll be gone in a few days and i have yet to feel any remorse. is that bad? their eyes ain't even open yet. does that make it worse? prolly to some. i am allergic to cats. it doesn't bother me. i favor dogs. someday i would like to feed the snake an egg- cuz i heard they eat those too, but i haven't tried that yet. i ain't sure how she will like hers, scrambled or fried. i like my eggs scrambled. i love eggs. sometimes i just want to eat a whole plate full of eggs. especially in california. scrambled eggs taste so different when i am in LA, especially at canter's. i love to eat at the jewish deli. fuck. they deliver too, but i always go there. sometimes i call out there from here and ask them if they can deliver to illinois, but they always say no. them fuckers. it sucks to have to pay to park when you go there. but you have to pay to park everywhere almost. that is just the way it is.

fix it with fuckin

dear if you knew how many times diary,

i am a scorekeeper. i have to be. i keep records in my head because i run a business out of my twat. i mean i hate to say it like that, but the world does somewhat revolve around the pussy. wouldn't you agree? if you don't then you are ate up. when the whores (using the term lightly) stop putting out- the world comes to an end FRIENDS- fact. i'll give you a minute to let that sink in.

feel better? good. me too. whores have an important contribution to make in society. you and i may not see that now, but it does exist and always has. after all, it is THE oldest profession known. the value of the pussy goes far beyond the dollar. a man can achieve greater things when he is sexually satisfied, as can a woman. the desperation level is diminished, causing an individual to act out less in ways trying to seek out sexual encounters- making the public safer. if the government assigned whores specific to the needs of individuals, there prolly wouldn't be hardly any crime at all- i bet.  

fountain of youth

dear shower curtain rod diary,

for the very first time ever, i dreamt of a shower curtain rod. how impressive right?  i know i shall never be the same again. i also dreamt of de-boned pigeons for sale at the store- with the skin left on- but all the feathers plucked off- and i almost bought one- TILL I REALIZED IT WAS A PIGEON. i could never eat a pigeon. omg. speaking of birds and eating, when my friend and i went to vegas, SHOUT OUT LADY THUNDERBIRD, we stayed with my aunt barbara who told us a story about my aunt mary. this part of the story i am about to tell you was told to us over BREAKFAST, so imagine stuffing food in your hungry mouth while seeing the hands of your grandfather's sister actually doing what you are hearing happened from an eye witness- WHO IS 100% CREDIBLE. one morning in the mid 1950's, aunt mary got up and fixed four squirrels she'd trapped and killed and this is what they were to have for breakfast. when uncle glenn, (my favorite uncle EVER) and uncle bob and aunt barbara sat down at the table, on their plates were the squirrels on their backs- their little legs sticking up in the air, their tails hanging off the plates, fully cooked, AND THE FUR LEFT ON. now i asked barb to repeat the story AND SHE DID, and so i got my facts straight. barb said uncle glenn and aunt mary were the only ones who ate. barb said she would also TIE BOB TO THE HIGH CHAIR when she would go to the barn and tend to the cows. i want all my stawkers to know- aunt mary was weird, yes, but- she handmade a blanket for my son and lived to be 101- and buried money in her yard and i got her bad ass birdhouse.

marinated in saliva then dehydrated twice

dear i do not eat my fingernails anymore diary,

when i was small, i ate my nails and everybody knows that. well i don't anymore and i love my nails now and everybody also knows that. and everybody also knows in order to keep me from chewing the skin from around my nails, i must trim every other day with cuticle cutters. every once in awhile when i get a huge slice of cuticle i will allow myself to indulge and gnaw on that skin for just a few seconds and then spit it across the room like the nasty bitch i really am. i think it tastes like chicken. i worked hard on my pinky finger tonight, the most tender finger and ida given anything to just rip into it with my canine vampire teeth. fuckit i ain't no dentist, but its the teeth that are pointed and hurt like hell when the babies cut the bitches. ida sunk them fuckers in and made my finger bleed for two weeks if ida let myself, but i didn't. i settled on a big chunk of the cut off skin instead and when i was done i spit that fucker out of my mouth and it landed on my laptop screen and it looked like a paint splatter and i decided to leave it. the rest of my clippings i put in the coffee can where they belong, but i figured this one i would let dry off before i put it back in there with the otherns.

the swimming cap

dear two fer tuesday diary,

to everybody in timezone land, the date has already switched over and now it is tuesday. i still feel like it is monday in my goofy assed world. so there. i could make it monday too- if i wanted, but i wont. that is cheating and i don't do that very much anymore. i did it the other day just to see iffin i could- and i can. i'll be honest and tell you why i did it though ok listen to me, JUST LISTEN, I HAD A GOOD REASON. i went back to my very first post on my blog here- and it fucking made no sense. not like any of the other ones make MORE sense, i ain't sayin that either- cuz they all make perfect sense to me- if you can finger that out. so i went back and tried to rewrite an opening post to explain why i am posting at all- which was hard because i still don't know why i post like someone is chasing me. but since today ain't monday anymore- i just knew it was time to post this.

NSA collection and analysis of MY communications?? BAHAHAHAHA

dear cautiously proceeding diary,

i am not paranoid, i know they are watching me. my people tell me all the time how i need to be careful here on my blog and on the phone and shit because i use words "they" listen for. i always say words and phrases like, but not  limited to; unibomber, fuck shit up, blow some shit up, slap a head, blunt, blunt force trauma to the head, rob a bank, whore, killer, animal molestation, poke your eye out, ima cut a dick off, hide in a cave, sex slave boat, stalk, judge, water boarding, tiny penis, obama, city worker, suck a dick, hero, and all those other known terrorist 'hot' code words. i am sure they've got me on their TOP TEN LIST of people to, 'keep an eye on,' and i keep that in mind while i write. that is why i never threaten  to come after anyone specific. so if you are 5'8" and weigh 225lbs (fatass) DON'T WORRY.... 10-4 good buddy? so i dunno why they wrote me an email if they are secretly analyzing my communications now. if they want me to change my vocabulary- maybe they should sign me up for school. i'd even take an online class- which they could monitor. SHOUT OUT NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY!

sorted, salvaged, and sacrificed

dear dammit trash day diary,

fuck me running to the curb, okay then don't, let's do something different for a change. anyway, fuck me wherever you want, the trash, the recycle and all the yard shit is to the curb and you just wouldn't believe how much there is for the weekly pickup folks. i was thinking when i was washing my hands- if we still lived at the farm, we'd be loading the shit up and hauling it to the town drop off site where everybody goes, then waiting our turn at the trailer outfit getup thing that looked like fancy port-a-pottys- that were always FULL- and mis-sorted because the idiots in my town were stupid, they really were. i'm glad we moved away from there before the influences became noticeable on my boys. any further impact on their lives could have been catastrophic. but now that everything it set to auto launch to the dump tomorrow, i wonder what impact my garbage will have on all the other garbage at the landfill. the awaiting garbage will sure be some lucky garbage to mingle with my selected stuff this week. i've had some of that junk for years and years and years. it sometimes hurts to let go of things you've had for so long. but i know it will be in a better place.

ima whale watcher

dear driving home alone diary,

on the way home while looking out my rolled down window at the longest red light in town, i saw ants on the median. my eyes are fine tuned trained to spot them now. i see them everyfuckingwhere. i thought to myself, "oh wow, those are some struck ass ants right there- living in the middle of the street- on some hot concrete- nowhere to go- nothing to eat- prolly roaming around in circles for hours thinking they'd moved," and then i heard someone honk at me. what the fuck. "hey fuck you!" i yelled. it was my dad's ex-girlfriend. oops. oh whale. she is a whale. i don't like her anyway. the ants in my house are lucky, i think, to have been blessed with the time they have had  here. just as my dad's ex-girlfriend was blessed with the time she had to suck off my dad. her and her colony of whatever you would call them, children i suppose, who each mooched in their own special way. i've almost got my little problem under control and my dad doesn't do as much whale watching anymore.

get more of these

dear brightly viewed message diary,

the sun seems brighter on my porch than any other porch in my neighborhood. i often wonder if it is a message. i think i need to paint my toenails again, but i know that is certainly not the message from the sun- i am just sayin- they look like shit. my plants enjoy the sun out there on the porch and i am sure glad because i treated them like shit this winter. i was a bitch to my plants- my favorite one especially. i need slapped in the head for it. it still may not come out of it, but it has my permission. it ain't fucking died yet, so i don't think it has quite decided what to do. i pray over it nightly, ok every couple of three nights, and i feed it with food with funky numbers, and i watch for new growth, and it has some, but not what i would have hoped, and i feel bad. i feel sad, yet i feel glad it isn't brown. the message in the sun, i tear it open with my heart. i read it loud and clear- thanking someone i cant stand beer. if i were a drunk i could never understand why i crave these green beans like a wild man.

kitty squid possum blossom

dear hello kitty diary,

hello. where one life ends another continues and the people around the corner just had kittens too. we saved almost nine bucks this week and i really do not think that anyone over here knew the difference. the lady even THANKED ME for taking one and i told her if my 'friend' liked it- i'd come back tomorrow for another one. so fuck my friend aimee, SHOUT OUT AIMEE, and her 'special' kittens. i got better ones over here and everything else. a few years ago, i caught a possum in our back yard. it wasn't just any possum either. this was a big momma bitch possum and she had tiny baby possums stuck all over her fat ass possum body. she had them stuck to her ears, her mouth, her legs, tummy, tail, and ass. all down her back- were a rows of baby possums. i am only telling you this because knowing what i know now, today, because of AIMEE, i feel my snake would have really loved the taste of a baby possum. it prolly woulda been like calamari to her. so what i should have done, instead of trapping it under the galvanized yardwaste can and calling the wild roadside trapper guy, i should have clubbed the momma bitch and held her hostage and peeled off her babies one by one for special occasions.

time ain't about shit anymore (now that i am a whore)

dear screaming at me for stupid shit ain't goin on pal diary,

first of all, i never have really liked the sound of your voice, ever, in my life, so why you would insist on projecting that mother fucker to me i beyond all rational reasoning in my whore head anyway. second, last night, you lost your 'brand new' pack of cigarettes, today you realize your lighter is gone, ima go out on a flimsy limb and say in a hushed smartalec tone, "THEY MIGHT BE LOST TOGETHER DUMBASS." raise your voice again at me and it wont be pretty, i can assure you. i am the screamer in this family, not you. i hate it when you wake up this way. i do. it reminds me of why i don't like you. it reminds me again of why i've been trying to get the fuck out of here for the last 12 years- oh my bad 13 now, since 1998 when we all got the chicken pox BUT YOU. oh my GOD, i will never forget how cruel you were. i thought i had a plan six years ago, a plan for our big escape. but instead, I GOT MORE TIME ADDED ON. don't think i wont plan again. i'm not scared of time.

letting things go (not my box tho)

dear firing maria diary,

i am going to let my housekeeper go. half the time she doesn't come, like last week, she was busy, AND IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY, and i was going to take her out for chinese food- and she is mexican. this week my kitchen is stupid and i already know she's gunna call with an excuse. i just hate to actually do it. i suppose i could just obtain an order of protection, but i would have to lie to get it. but hell, like that ain't ever been done before. naw, i wouldn't do that to anyone, i like maria and her husband juan. they are good people. it is just now that the basement is so clean and organized- i think it'll be easier to keep the rest of the house the same way. i know where my favorite box is right now. so, if there was a fire or i wanted to leave fast- i know which box to grab and run with. i just love that box. it has my mexican label corona bottle of soybeans in it, my glass milk pint jar of dirt, my clay cactus, my whole wet bar 2/6/96 liquor bottles (still full) from my david letterman stupid pet tricks hotel room, my autograph from eddie murphy (after we kissed at the 1982 world's fair) and my baby picture of my mom in the antique glass frame. i would risk my life to save THAT box. i have other interesting boxes too, but that one- it is my favorite. when i opened that box, i knew that it was special because i had wrote on the top, "packed 11/11/05 the YAY day- 6:19PM i love you." i would prolly still have my favorite stuff out- if i hadn't of packed it. i repacked that box in a better box and i'll  prolly always know right where it is.

cream floats

dear creamy windex diary,

my kitchen is a divine mess, yet the only thing i find myself really wanting to do is chase these ants around and spray them with windex. i am to the point where i believe that window cleaner works faster at killing the fucking ants than the poison. they look like they are having a fucking party in the shit. i picked up a trap off of the floor in the bathroom, which was full of the tiny fuckers, and i want the whole world to know- SOME TRIED TO CRAWL OUT AT ME. oh hail to the no. that is when i went and got the windex and started killing the ones that tried to run off. i don't care if they were going back to infect the rest of them- they should die right there where i can see them die. i need to find a good home for my snake. i cant deal with her anymore. she is already hunting again and i really had my heart set on feeding her a kitten. i think she would eat it. i don't even think it is mean to feed the kitten to a snake either- i hate cats- and my friend aimee will never find homes for all of them and they will grow up and have more kittens- PROLLY INBRED- at that. my snake could prolly eat three of them as small as they are right now, then she'd only have EIGHT left. charles darwin wouldn't have a problem with my idea- i'd bet you anything.

stay in my belly bitch bug

dear you got that funky face feeling diary,

remembering how to kiss is like riding a bike- i'm hoping. it has been a year and five months since my last one and it was strange and awkward and kiss that should never of happened. i wont kiss a client. it's in the contract. i've gone longer in between kisses- so i ain't really worried- but i am worried. if i never do kiss again though, i have becky to kiss- and the grump- both of which are excellent kissers. i do miss that feeling in my stomach- the butterflies. they flew far away and prolly never will return. i do so much envy those who can find them and keep the butterflies. i had them for a long time once, longer than i'd ever had them before. that should have been a warning sign. don't worms turn into butterflies anyway?

pussy for the snake (every 3 days)

dear absence diary,

i thought about not posting one single thing today, but i prolly cunt do it. i mean i prolly could iffin i wanted to, but i don't want to, because then my streak would be struck. the hero works today, it is a safe day for me, but my friend WHO THUMPED ME IN MY BIRD FINGER TONIGHT AND WONT GET UP OFF ANY OF HER KITTENS TO FEED TO MY SNAKE, SHOUT OUT AIMEE, she reminded me that when i post a bunch of new postings every three days, it only entertains the hero at work. she told me that every three days i should lay off posting and then post like a whore in heat on the forth and seventh day to make up for it. see, i know i cant stop him from reading my blog, or his lovely CUNTFACE WIFE (SHOUT OUT) you had to know that was coming, hell i cant even stop KIDNEY CUNTFACE or any of her KIDNEY CUNTFACE FRIENDS from reading my blog. AND I KNOW KIDNEY CUNTFACE just loves it when i blog about her giving head in the parking lot at krogers. AND why her step father found interest in this is still BEYOND ME. nevertheless- i went to 'spy' like he wanted me to to 'prove to her mom she was a tramp,' and i took the pictures- WHICH HE HAS. but hey, it was fair, KIDNEY busted him with my cellphone and house keys. but i am the whore here- yup it was all me. so here i am.... NOT ENTERTAINING AGAIN. btw, did i mention i'm glad CUNTFACE reads my blog? that i LIVE for CUNTFACE TO READ MY BLOG?

yoga and yogurt and my vagina (and fried green beans and a blunt)

dear let's see diary,

one thing is for sure, i love yoga. i never started doing it until after i went to jail last year, but when i got out, i jumped into it head first. yoga just relaxes me. it made my center of my balance easier to acknowledge existed and continue to re-access once i found out it was there. the system of yoga has a culture and you have to make it a lifestyle while you are doing it or it doesn't work right. there is no dirty side to yoga and that is what i like about it most, i think. i was instructed in the art in phoenix a few years ago, but never applied it to my life until last year. Karma holds the hand of yoga and they flirt often like small kids, but when i lay on my body mat it all comes together. sometimes you will find yourself making dumb little mouth noises when you are fully engaged in the mental part of yoga. i kinda make the same noises when someone massages me on my neck. i used to have a customer who used to rub on my neck and shoulders- my GAWD i miss that shit. i rub becky like that and sometimes she makes a little whimper noise and it makes me fall in love with her. i got fried green beans at the store whila go and ima eat the fuck out of them bitches and some yogurt. i love yoga and yogurt. you can put plain yogurt in your vagina.

gardening with bloody seeds

dear trying to decide diary,

tough decisions. everybody has them. i am no different than anybody else i suppose, but i don't like making decisions that let others scootch ahead of me faster than usual. it is tough being a cheerleader sometimes, "rah rah shit boom bah." just go ahead and get it over with. when it comes my turn however, i don't want OR NEED cheerleaders. i prefer to gain my edge in private. that way when i lose it- it doesn't hurt as bad. plentiful in the land of the hecklers are the jesters waiting to stab the hearts that strongly beat outside of the chest. honest are the hearts that are worn this way. true are the lovers who love this way. damn the haters to hell who try and kill this kind of breed- this will never happen though- we will forever spread the seed.

the bigger the 'contract' ~ the sweeter the deaL

dear revoking of the contract diary,

there are not many things you can do to cause me to revoke my signed and negotiated contract with you- once i have decided to be your whore. if you agree to all of my demands and shit, and i agree to all of your demands and shit- we are good to go for the duration. i mean really. look at my references. i only come with the ONE BAD ONE, and i ain't sure how bad of a reference he'd actually give me, cuntface his wife scored me pretty low though, SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE, but i think in comparison to all the other women and men (once she did a full scale investigation) she'd prolly give me extra points, i am sure. after seeing what i saw, knowing what i know, and not doing what he wanted me to do- IN HER HOUSE, she fucking better- that bitch. a glowing reference is all anyone can ask for. that's what i give all my old clients. the ones who have the biggest 'contracts' anyway.

to NOT be continued

dear fucking diary,

i have a problem. ANTS. thanks for listening.

the whore

p.s. you know you have the mother bitches bad when you rest your whore head back on the couch cushion and look up towards the Heaven and see an ANT. i had to share and update this latest. tell me now- how am i to get the ant traps up there? i fucking hate ANTS- even the 'high' ones.

lookin at women again

dear ugly outfit girl diary,

i saw this hot ass girl today and her outfit was gawd awful ugly. i should have took a picture, but i haven't grown the balls yet. i will someday, but meantime, you'll have to take my word for it. she was crossing fariview at main with a group of other people who were also dressed fashionably, but she really stood out. if we were in say, november or maybe even october, i might not have noticed her as much as i did, but she really stood out. clearly, by the area she was in, i believe she attends college, and prolly knows the year is ending- and not the calendar year. her black boots (with pointed toes ewww) and black tights and black skirt and dark mauve top just rang FALLING LEAVES to me. she was a very pretty girl with a vavavoom little body and ass- but i couldn't imagine her closets. i wanted to scream, "SEASON CHANGE," out my window so BAD, but i had a mouth full of finger skin and didn't get it spit out fast enough before they were across the road and then i said fuck it and drove off. i figured she wouldn't know what i meant and would prolly just think i was a lesbian stawker.

honored idiots and blind scholars

dear simon says diary,

some days i wake up and i feel like, "I AM THE LEADER," and other days i wake up and feel like, "LEAD ME, I AM RETARDED." every once in awhile, i put earplugs in and a blindfold on and pretend i cant see or hear a fucking thing. it makes me wonder if i would still get a headache. i know i would. the more i learn about mark twain and who he was as an ordinary person, the more fascinated i am with that man. he was an intriguing mother fucker. he had a way of twisting his words like no other author. the controversy his works caused still is so thick today even, TODAY EVEN, that is amazing. i wonder at the time he was writing his shit, if he felt he was a leader or a follower. you cant just stand and watch the parade go by, if you are really living. you're IN the parade if you're the leader, watching it if you're retarded, and chasing it if you're a follower.

sickly rude perverts

dear driving along with a chunk from my finger diary,

taking a chunk out of my finger didn't hurt at all. in fact, i cant tell you how i even did it or when i did it, but it is done now and since i chewed the flap of skin off when i drove to get ant dope in my pajamas, well now it hurts and is rubbing on the inside of my other finger causing even more pain. what a deal. i bet you i cut it in my sleep- prolly swinging at the unibomber to shut that fucking tv off. that is gunna be the end of us yet. i dunno, but i read somewhere that it ain't even healthy to have a tv in the bedroom. true, i can think of worse things, but if that is the case, then the unibomber ought to be coming down with the flu or something any minute. my nipples have been hard all morning. that is really odd. i did my best to cover them up at farm and fleet, but i know this one guy saw my right one. i had my purse straps over the left one, but barring cupping the right one with my open hand- i didn't know what else to do. i had my arm over it- but dude scoped the nipple out anyway. then he followed me and i know he saw the hole in my shorts where the tag was i ripped out. fucking perverts. i prolly should have gotten dressed to go get the ant dope- but fuck it. i was in a hurry.

the big switch

dear walking out on me again diary,

becky left me. she went out to lay in the driveway. it is fucked up how she would rather lay on some hard lumpy rock covered surface, than here next to me, but OH WHALE. it is because i have the fan on already. i cant believe how early it is either. ima go back to bed in a minute. that poor dog is barking across the street again. i fucking hate people that tie their dogs up. i hate dogs that bark too, but i hate people that tie up dogs more because that is what causes a dog to bark- this one anyway. my goodness- set it free. i think i was a dog in my former life. i don't know what kind, but does it even matter? it doesn't to me anymore. it used to- i thought- but not anymore. i know i was loved. i'd switch places with either one of my pups now and be happy. i'd rather be becky, but if i had to be the grump, i'd sure act a whole lot different than he does. he is an idiot. yay, becky came back. goodnight again then.

don't look now

dear rude as it gets diary,

when it comes to sleeping, i am the queen bee. i consider myself pretty much the expert around here. um... nobody in my household can sleep faster, better, or longer than i can- and they never could- at any stage of their life. with that said, i believe i have earned some sleep respect and i have- to a certain extent. during my nap times for instance, my people are generally quiet- even the dogs. i have found my greatest difficulty in life is going to bed. when i go to bed, my mind will sometimes drift to painful places (not often don't get your hopes up fatass hero bitch) and my real problem, THE UNIBOMBER WATCHES TV UNTIL 4AM. i have a hard time sleeping with lights flashing and guns shooting. he watches westerns. fuck a western. he thinks because he wears the headphones that i cant hear the sound to the tv, but the gunshots still come through and the light from the tv- when they change scenes- it is black and white- it gets dark and light. i dunno. i wish the unibomber fell asleep watching the news. that way since i am the queen bee, i could buzz around and fuck with him while he is sleeping peacefully during the evening news and maybe even flash him my stinger.