dedicated to service- not quality

dear you can take my polish off diary,

if there is one thing i hate- it is chipped up raggedy ass nail polish. eww. i like my nails pristine at all times. i really do. but since i started blogging forty one times a day, i kind of let them slip to the wayside, because i don't give a fuck anymore. i really don't. i mean i still do, but i don't. you know what i am saying? i do, but i don't, i will, but i wont, i cant because it just takes up all my time i spend doing this- and i'd rather do this than that- so there. omfg and my hair- that's a whole other story i don't even want to talk about. and my toes? bahahah- they haven't been painted since i almost went to jail, but you know something, they look great. i keep getting them ready to paint- and then just say, 'fuck it.' i'll get back into the swing again when business picks up. until then, you can lick my lollipop.

center pier (turn left)

dear real time diary,

today as we were coming home from the hardware store, or tonight rather, the unibomber made a reference to his penis- which i thought was odd, beins it interrupted my own thoughts of pulling the chin hair from my chin and eating the watermelon in my fridge again, i was nowhere near thinking of his penis or any penis for that matter. he called his penis a, "center pier," and i was set back for a minute because i found this a bit strange. "i thought you called your penis FLEX," i blurted, because twenty years ago, that's what he called it when i was with him- and when we split up, THAT IS WHAT HIS FUCKING GIRLFRIEND CALLED IT AS WELL, and i'd never heard him announce any changes SINCE THEN, till now, so i was kindof shocked, "but I'LL KEEP THAT UNDER ADVISEMENT," i finished. we finished the ride home in complete silence.

sleeping beautifully ( i will be)

dear oh come all ye stawkers diary,

i have risen again. but when i did, i did not know where i was BECAUSE there was so much dirt in the bed. i thought i was in the back yard. in the back yard with my blankie ina nice soft sheeted hole- there snuggled in with becky and the grump at my feet what a nest we made together- very complete. when i finally sat up, quite amused by the sight, i started whisking off the crumbs and chunks of yard before the unibomber were to see, for he would just have himself a fright. i gathered my self a small pile, yet big enough to make me smile and i lifted his pillow and well, I LEFT IT THERE IN STYLE, so then later on tonight when he goes to bed, i will at least have MY satisfaction for a while. high five on your head.

for the day is obviously nearing

dear in the best interest diary,

upon further reflection i have determined it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if i simply dunked my head in the bucket of apples and stay at home where i can lick my wounded area of my thumb, which technically feels better, but there is no sense in taking the chance of flaring up something that just recently started down the path of healing. a deeper place of self understanding and graphic placement of purging thoughts from a pea sized brain will eventually consume all the time i have allotted for any further scheduled events for this evening. i will go to bed and reflect on the upcoming postings that will follow my anticipated nap, and suddenly rejoice when i return here. may the force be with you all, especially those whom i despise, because there is but one person whom i do feel that way towards, and that person must always remain safe until the day which we come hoof to twat.

things that make you go hoof.

somethin to believe in

dear rectal exam for everybody diary,

i ain't doin it. BOTTOM LINE.

kY jelly and a fist?
ready for the hero.

stretch marks

dear figure skater diary,

i am not an olympic figure skater, so chances are, i will not be posting a picture of my imaginary medal i won on my blog here anytime soon. at the same time however, i cant say that everything i have posted here is 100% factual in content, because sometimes i do tend to stretch the outer limits of the imagination to the point where it could break at any given moment, BUT, i will tell you, most everything you find here on my little blog has blossomed from the truth, because i myself cant even make this shit up. no fucking way. especially when it comes to the novelty of the hero and his miniature male membrane or the actions of his psycho cuntface wife or any of that shit- guaranteed that's as real as it can get. if there ever does come a time you wonder, "this whore cant be serious," just look for the stretch marks. if there are none- i'll betcha it's true. and chances are- it's prolly true anyways.

name in lights

dear thinking about what i would do diary,

while i am up for this short period of time this morning, i could consider what i will do later on in the day once i get everything rolling. really though, that's a tough thing to do because i don't know what i want to do yet. part of me wants to go to this thing they got for this guy that died, but then part of me doesn't because that would entail getting dressed and interacting with people and i hate people. i think people should have to pay to see me. and really i'd rather just talk to them all at once. these little individual shows are so time consuming. people flock up to me and overwhelm me- and someone always gets offended that i've spent too much time over there- and ignored someone over here. i just don't even like going out anymore. that's why i like going out of town where nobody knows me and i hop on stage and i can just visit my ass off with everybody. it's much easier to connect with an audience of people than it is one person and so much safer. you can tell a whole room full of people something you could never tell a soul. it's weird how if you tell one person something specific- they can use that to try and destroy you- but if you tell a whole room full- it becomes who you are- and can make you a better, more marketable person. i'd prolly give out free tickets to people i knew- if they wanted to come to any of my shows- just to keep them from coming over to my house for a visit. at least some of them anyways.

i named the bird WALTER (after cuntface's dad)

dear loud ass chirping ass birds diary,

i am sure to this date, i have never yelled at a bird before, until this date, but i couldn't take it anymore and i told it to shut the FUCK up and it didn't. omfg it kept right on making the SAME twerping noise in the same tone and everything- didn't even change a pitch and then when it did, i'll be damned if another bird didnt TAKE OVER and chirp for its fucking ass in a slightly higher, WORSE pitch. i shut my window and everything- did no good- it was coming in the UNIBOMBER'S window- who of course DIDN'T HEAR A THING. it gave me a headache is what it did. i fucking HATE birds. they might as well have come with horns installed verses chirpers. old people like birds, i know. when i get old, i will not be one of those people that fawn over the birds. oh hail to the fuck no. i will remember what they have put me through, i don't soon forget these type things. fucking little dick hero birds out here just trying to get noticed. they need to twerp in some other whore's yard.

working on the railroad

dear hello again diary,

it seems like just when i think i know what time of the day i like transposing my thoughts the best, why here they come again at a different pleasing hour- rushing out. shit who am i kidding, i could do this all day because i hate talking to the people here. i don't understand the language they speak. nor do they understand mine. i find myself repeating all the time and asking them to, and i hate that. my thumb is better and i am not a vicoden eater. so anyone who had that idea was wrong. vicodens make me sweat like i have given birth. however, i will take a darvocet on occasion, but honestly, pills get stuck in my throat and i don't like pills. i have to soak pills in a mouth full of spit before i swallow them or they get glued half way down and i am not joking. i take liquid tylenol for my pains. that is all i need. i used to only need weed, but fuck it. BUTTFUCK IT. time to post. xoxoxox

i didn't go the 2nd time

dear lady green diary,

today is lady green's birthday. SHOUT OUT LADY GREEN. one of the main reasons i can always remember her birthday is because of timothy mcvey, they fried his ass on today's date- but i cant remember the year it was. they were supposed to do it on my birthday (in my hometown) and i WENT THERE like i was a talking head, i went to hang out with the talking heads, and the talking heads talked to me, but then they fucking put it off and i came home- what a FUCKING BIRTHDAY, but it wasn't the first time i was in terre haute, indiana on my birthday. it was like the third time- maybe the fourth time. i cant remember now. but when they finally did it on lady green's birthday- i was glad because then i knew i would forever remember when her birthday was. so that worked out fine for me. WHATCHA THANK?

still don't change shit

dear as you leave diary,

soaking in my bubble bath and my legs hanging over the side, i had to keep an eye on the door the whole time knowing if i'm caught with my legs over the side of the tub- damnit i am already busted so why watch the fucking door- i guess to be predisposed to the knowledge of knowing who and at what point during my state of utter fucking ecstasy i was exposed. that's all i can think. but just as soon as i let go- knew it was too late- i was home free- i shut my eyes to slide across home plate and i opened them to find becky AND the grump staring at me- one on each side of the tub. now where in THE fuck did they come from i wonder. and if they got there without notice... who else could have, that worried me. i have to move my tub. the first joy from my tub in fucking weeks and those two get in on the action. idts. oh well. at least it wasn't the unibomber.

bath, bed & beyond frustrated

dear piss me off diary,

i thought it was my armpit stinking, cuz i smelled at the one and it kinda stunk, i thought, so i figured i skipped gooooing the one down with the anti stink shit like i sometimes do. i get distracted between arms every so often and i'll forget to do the other arm and well- there you go- onion time at one of the pit stops. i have no excuse either because i've done this my whole life. after my lovely bath, here i am, stuck in the onions again. IT AIN'T ME. NO. NO. NO. IT AIN'T ME BABE. IT AIN'T ME SMELLIN LIKE A WHORE... BABE.

kentucky fried crackheads

dear motorcycle shows on the tv diary,

omfg just shoot me and get it over with now. there ain't nothing worse than a show about motorcycles. well, maybe westerns. fuck that. ima snap. i ain't watching this. paul junior is a fucking crybaby sack of shit and his dad looks like fucking colonel sanders on crack and i hate the both of them. they have army fatigues on in tonight's episode and i ain't watching it. plus they are stupid. i'm not watching it. it is just on the fucking tv and i haven't taken control of the remote yet. omg just the voices on the show drive me nuts. ima cancel the recording set up for it. we need the space. american chopper is gettin chopped off the block and i forgot to put deodorant on under one arm again. i guess now would be a fine time to explore the bath option.

dead and lost

dear what kind of person does that diary,

bizarre. an outrage. an unknown protester. in the eye of the storm is the mastermind of the whole system. the cross currents will tow you under. jump back and hold the line. i'll be back with you shortly. one of the hardest things to let go of are the chains that bind us, the links that clink. what goes up will eventually come down and hopefully what goes down- stays down. something of a mystery occurs when the damage is already done. i'm ready for some thunder to lull me to sleep. i dunno though, it has been quite a while since  i counted any sheep.

something to glow on

dear skin on my arm diary,

this post my be graphic to small children or people with sensitive arms. i would warn you about this, but obviously it will do no good- as you are already reading the bitch so why bother. so today i was warm in nature, my body was, so as i often do, i stuck my right arm out of the window. i was the passenger of course, so that was the appropriate arm. i had a tank top on, which again, i often do in the summertime, and it has spaghetti straps and it's old and has a little hand on the front and says 'true love' on it and last time i wore it i dripped salsa right in the hand and prince william just thought it was so funny how i'd only dripped it in the hand- like it caught my dribble. i know that our bodies change as we get older, i am prepared for this, i am, but what i saw in the side mirror today scared the fucking hell out of me and i dunno if i will ever be the same again. objects are closer than they appear prolly didn't help much either- to distort what was clearly distorted, but the skin on my elbow and arm was about to blow off and it looked just scary as fuck. at least i know, or have a great idea, of what ima look like in another forty years. science fiction is the only way to accurately describe what it is i saw in that mirror and the frightening results of what gravity verses 85mph and the breakdown of my molecular structure of skin cells, but seeing my arm bones today was fucking weird man.

my dumb thumb and a hamsalad sammich

dear i thought way wrong diary,

i figured a good old fashioned nap would cure my jammed up thumb for some reason and what i am sayin is, it didn't. i hope i don't have to get used to this or i will have it chopped of and send it to some one's house in an unmarked envelope from another fucking state. how's that for some tricky. i'm super tricky. all i know is- it couldn't hurt much worse if someone did chop it off, so i am thinking why not get a little joy out of it. the thing is though, another thumb wont grow back and i kindof like painting its nail all the time. so i dunno- i might keep it for a while longer. i feel like a hamsalad sammich. doesn't that sound strangely wonderful? ima eat that in a minute i think. it has been a long time since i been had one of those.  

train of whores

dear naptime in a perfect world diary,

how long does it take you to fall asleep? it doesn't take me but just a few seconds and i am not kidding. from head to pillow to dreaming- less than three minutes and i can clinically prove this. instadream. skip that sleepy shit. i guess that is why it is hard sometimes to distinguish what i've actually lived through and what i just dreamed about- some dreams are that vivid. it's hard to believe people really do jam around in whore buggies like this. ahhh the simple whore life. i wish i could wake up in that wagon.

shelled nuts only

dear pecans and  honey roasted diary,

i jammed my thumb today wrestling that cow i suppose and i can really tell as i peck and type here but i wont let that stop me from posting, oh no, i got more tylenol at the wal-mart on the way home and then i found myself stuck at a train, in pain, with nothing to do this evening. my mind was clear and then- oh dear- i had the best idea. i don't know where it came from.



suck the salt off



it's alive

dear today diary,

upon further inspection, it was today i noticed, that on my not dead but not thriving hoya plant i have been whining about, that there indeed was ONE new leaf growing. (see picture below) this gives me great hope and massive pleasure today to share with you this great news of which i am posting at our regularly scheduled time. feel free to comment or not to comment for i could give two (or less) fucks what you do. i am happy with this plants progress and i am determined to report any further activity i see in the future. go fuck yourself.

the first sign

trixie in underwearland

dear in the land of make believe diary,

since yesterday is gone and tomorrow ain't here yet and time spends like money nobody has, i'm glad i don't have any loans out- well except for my house- and i don't count that really- cuz otherwise i'd have to rent and that be twice as much. i remember renting. it sucked. time sure slows down when you own. i think about the time i've spent here, eleven years, and all the changes in my life. it's weird looking back on things that have come and gone here and all the things that were so wrong and so right. my children who were children are so grown up now, it was here in this home where that happened, as the tears roll down my cheeks right now- i cant explain that because i am not sad for them. i pity myself for not spending more time doing what i should have instead of doing what i did, instead of trying to change everything- i should have just lived. but all in all and at the end of the day, i got a nice little house and two boys that will say that they had the best mom ever who gave them the best things in life and took them to california and florida and south dakota and six flags all the time and drove them crazy pretending to be the unibomber's wife.

mail post STAT

dear mail lady diary,

the mail lady just walked right past my box. that's fine. oh and TOMMY, if you are out there, I HAVE THOSE BUGS AT MY HOUSE. tommy is a guy i work with, he is so cute. i've had a crush on him for years. anyway, he said them loud ass bugs are afraid to come into the city because, "they're afraid of being shot." well i got news for tommy. the next time i see him- ima tell him- they are over here rubbing their legs together or WHATEVER it is they do- and i live in the CITY. he asked me sunday if i had them at my house and i told him i sure did, and i do. i knew i did. but to be honest the windows had been closed and i wasn't 100% positive. i was 99.9%. now i am 100% because i can see them flying around on the neighbors roof AND hear them. SHOUT OUT TOMMY. the mail lady just got hammered in the head by one. i thought they only came out at night and shit. oh hail naw. it went down her shirt. i wish tommy could see this. he would be loving this shit. the mail lady is now disrobing in my neighbor's yard. she has set her mail bag down. she is flapping her shirt from her pants. i saw her bra. oh tommy. she got it. she's moving on. i'm not going to wait to post this post y'all.

skitzoturdshit

dear belly noises diary,

my stomach woke me up. i thought to myself, "wow how freaky is that shit." it doesn't hurt or anything- it just made a supreme obnoxious loud noise that really was an eye opener. it ain't gunna hurt me to get up for the second time today. my alarm was gettin ready to cock-a-doodle doo anyway. i just hope that doesn't mean ima have to take a massive surprise shit later when i least expect it. that would literally blow ass while retrieving my cow. oh my goodness you guys, i just realized the unibomber wasn't lying. he usually doesn't lie, per say, but he does have this way of slanting things to where he believes various incidents to be happening to him, when in reality they are not, or not actually happening as much as he'd like to think that they are. i don't want to say he is paranoid, but really, there is no other word to describe the issues he has 85% of the time, but this time i dunno, i could be wrong. THE BIRDS REALLY ARE SHITTING ON HIS TRUCK EVERYDAY. i didn't believe him, but i am looking at it for myself. ima go wake him up and tell him he ain't going crazy nuts in the head like i been telling him.

snap, crackle, cow meat

dear staying focused diary,

well ima stay up now, i might as well. i cant wait. today is going to be so fun. i always like getting a cow in my house. we needed some grillin meat over here. becky bit a hole dang near almost through the grumps lip last night. it was over them stupid dolls i gave them- their babies. she got pissed off because of the way he was goin after his and she jumped up to try and save it. it's a darn good thing she's never come at me like that or i believe i'd get the taste for dog pretty quick and she's lean too. she ain't got all that fat and skin hanging off of her like old grumpy pants. i reckon she'd cook up into a nice roast or what have you. she would never though and i couldn't either- but she sure is tasty lookin. quick on the draw too. the poor old grump never had a chance. she's a whippersnapper.

wake me up arfer you're bleeding from your ass

dear why at this hour always does it seem diary,

every night if i ain't still up at this dumb ass hour, i'm waking up. i suppose it's somehow to share in the blissful moment somehow of just waking up- knowing it is the beginning of a safe day. i will leave my house today. i have gigantic plans which i have every intent on following through with. it'll be fun too. i am thrilled with the thought of what the day shall bring. mmm... and then the awaiting nap- the bestest part of my day. i fucking love my bed. i would say on a scale of one to a thousand and seventeen- i've tipped that scale. my bed and my becky are my two favorite things, i have three favorite things, but i must deny myself the pleasure of pot and all of its glory until: it becomes legal, i get a medicinal permit to obtain the government shit, the hero and his cuntface wife are abducted by loving aliens who butt fuck them each randomly with large splintery wooden objects of which only one of the two of them enjoy, or i just say fuckit and do a HIT FROM THE BONG.

one nightlight is NOT a streetlight

dear toothpaste on my shirt diary,

i couldn't remember iffin i brushed my teeth and then i looked down and sure enough, i did. my mouth tastes like dogshit but i'm not worried because it'll be a cold day in the middle east before i get a long passionate kiss. i thought about just letting my teeth rot out of my head, but then there's always that off chance i'll choke out of town while eating and need mouth to mouth contact with a real hero. the good Lord knows they better not even call the fuckers around here, i'd just as soon die as to have one of those fuckers touch me. i don't trust any of them, well OK maybe i trust all except one of them. i swear to God when my house is completely paid off i will still demand the fire fucking department NEVER step foot on my property. i'll burn my own fucking house right down to the ground and cook a turkey on the ashes. i know for a fact my neighbors wouldn't care and theirs'll be paid off right about the same time. we'll have us a block fire maybe- a big party- that would be fun. well kids- i'm done. have a good night. please when you leave- turn off the lights, but leave the nightlight on....

the clone

dear my ferns diary,

you know i didn't think my ferns would survive the winter in the basement. i am happy to admit i was wrong. they are growing so beautifully and i cant wait to start posting retarded pictures of them. i could now i suppose, but i ain't proud yet, just happy. i just got done watering them and telling them their bedtime stories. everyone else looks so healthy tonight- everyone except the one who hasn't died yet. my hoya rope plant still hasn't decided what it wants to do. i guess ima let it sit there. i keep overlooking the fact it has no new growth because it has no deadness either. i wait. i wonder. i ignore it. i feel eventually it will make up its mind. the clone i took off of it is growing like a weed- at rapid speed- although- it will be years before it is mature enough to bloom. i can wait for a bloom. they are so worth waiting for- usually the best things in life are.

cake icing?

dick (the duck)

dear prolly not a safe day for this guy either diary,

that's why i didn't leave the house either buddy. plus it was so hot. i just kinda stayed around here all day and did what i usually do. nothing. doing nothing is over-rated at times, but today it wasn't- and if i went out on a limb, i'll bet the day that duck met his maker he wished he was at home doing nothing too. i like to think that duck had it coming, like he was an evil hero duck who maybe had pissed off all the other ducks in the tribe. maybe even his cuntface duck wife had chased him out into harms way and then i came along and took a picture of the aftermath, only to post it online almost a year later. awww. even a lesson can be learned from a poor dead duck. while i have yet to decide exactly what lesson that may in fact be, SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE in the meantime.

emergency FLIRT

dear wink that woke me diary,

red rover, red rover, my nap is over and the tension is thick in the air. both the grump and becky have new babies to love and each are giving 'the glare.' the grump has an arm already off of his and so proud of his dismemberment, ms becky takes her sweet time with hers and lavishes quality doses of motherly comfort and commitment. one lingering look a millisecond longer than becky deems it proper, and she will lift her lips and show the grump and dare him to make an offer. becky is a cool cat, but she is really a dog. i should have never had her fixed but i just wanted her to be a dog. i wanted to spare her from all the pain of giving birth and bleeding, just like buying dirt ass weed- i hate fucking deseeding. she would have made kush puppies though, her and the grump together- man- some fire diesel dro pups would have come out. damner. and i am back quiet.

all you can sleep buffet

dear prolly in bed diary,

i am prolly in bed by now. prolly sleepin. cuz i know i ain't up. how do i know? because i was bitching earlier about how i was tired. it's hard to stay awake sometimes. i know when it is time to give in and it was. it is hard to throw in the towel. especially when all the clean towels are upstairs and not downstairs by my tub. i wont use a dirty rowel when i get out of the tub. i like a fresh yummy clean towel around my head and body because why bother washing up for a dirty towel. some people can use the same towel twice- but not this nasty whore. i know i'll feel like blogging when i wake up because that's all i look forward to anymore. it gives me great delight to blog like a freak on the 41's.

bookin on orbitz

dear quitting is easy diary,

turn off console. TURN IT OFF. i can not believe i have been up all day. since 1:30 anyway. the reality of the situation, i am tired and need a fucking nap. damn. but i ain't going to bed just yet. i feel the need to stay up. i meant to sleep earlier, but i found a bruise on my hand where the grump bit me. you know, if a forensic scientist examined the bruising on my body and scaring, he (or she) would come to the wrong conclusions. i have not been savagely attacked by wild animals while on a safari. these markings are from my domesticated animals i keep in my home, and a few from my life partner, the unibomber, and a couple from cooking and self injuries sustained from minor accidents around the house. but most of the recent things are from the grump and the snake. those two have put  me through hell the last couple of weeks. i don't want people to think i am beat on, or that i beat on my animals, but if any snake OR DOG deserves an ass whoopin- hum, i know which ones it would be.

goodFUCKINGevening

dear clean fuckin hair diary,

my hair is so clean today it looks like a whole different color- like i had it dyed or something. it's all soft and shiny and poofy looking. i hate taking a bath now since the unibomber moved my bathtub. i don't even want it anymore. might as well fill it up with fucking dirt. i'm serious. i haven't had any JOY out of it since. he ruins everything. he's started raising his voice again and it makes my stomach completely fall to the floor. i have instant mini panic attacks and i hate that shit and i tell him when he yells, "FUCKING BULLSHIT," that it makes my heart stop, but he continues to do it- so i dunno- for no reason he will do this- at the remote- at his laptop- at the chair- he rarely speaks to me. all i know it's dead silent in the room and then, "FUCK," and it scares the shit out of me. then i am all worked up for the next few minutes, waiting for more. where are the gentle words? and why would i miss them? why would i wish for a whisper when i have a FUCK in my face?  

not a safe day

dear flavorite day diary,

so today being my favorite day of the week and my body being clean and all, i thought it would be a good day to leave the house, but i might not. i haven't decided yet. i have certain places i could go, but i dunno if i want to venture out in this hot shit or not. if you were to weigh the differences between what is good and bad about leaving today- you'd have more on the good scale, but i still don't want to get dressed. if i could get out of here naked, that would be a whole different story now wouldn't it. but i think there is a law against that. a law that us NON-CITY EMPLOYEES have to follow. but i what i am sure of, if i was a hero, or a hero's wife (vomit in my throat) i could do whatever i wanted, including but not limited to: leaving the house in inappropriate fashions, adulteress behaviors, criminally spreading sexually transmitted diseases (plural), stealing from people, lying to the elderly, lying in court, taking advantage of the disadvantaged, playing the victim, harassing others, not accepting responsibility for anything. gladly i'd skip forgiving if i could only forget.

bottles and boots

dear thinking and winking diary,

yeah and so what. i am happy today. i saw a cool glass boot with a wooden sole filled with all different colors of fingernail polish in my dream- it was at merle norman and it was EIGHTY BUCKS. the thing about it was- when you painted your nails one color, you dumped that color out and then the next color would magically be ready to use. i had to have it and i bought it, but swore never to use it. i just wanted to look at it forever and ever. i told the lady i collected bottles and boots, and i do, and if i ever did see a boot bottle like that- i would buy that bitch- eighty bucks or not- but it wasn't opi polish- and that disappointed me- because even in my dreams you see- that's the only paint i will use.

high mom

dear parents of readers diary,

now that parents come here i wonder if i should clean up my act. nah. cant do it. sorry mom. it is weird though, having the PG thing going on in my head while i think. when i first started my bog (you'll prolly laugh) i checked that little box in the settings department claiming there was 'adult content' here. then i read some of the other blogs next door to me and realized- i did not need to check THAT box, i was giving false hope to the perverts. i realize i already give false hope with my domain name, but they can direct their thanks (or anger) to CUNTFACE. even though i already had this name before she ever christened me a true whore, she's the one who really made it fit. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE!

no dice and blister and piss in the pool

dear what would you do for a wal-mart card diary,

i thought it was supposed to cool off today. no dice. maybe that's tomorrow and i saw the news wrong. we had a pool in the back yard for the longest time when the kids were small. i couldn't keep them out of it. it was a big fucker and took up THE ENTIRE front half of the back yard. i hated it. the kids loved it. i was afraid they would drown in it. i was a mega cunt because all the scummy neighbor kids wanted to swim and i would never let them. ever. fucking ever. fuck that. eww. i did not want their piss in my pool. my kids were not gonna swim in scummy kid piss. no way. i hated kids- especially dirty kids and kids that weren't mine. besides my kids- they'da rather played with their tiny dog blister in the pool. blister loved to float around on her raft. she just didn't like to be the last one out of the pool. looking back, she prolly felt abandoned. i miss our happy times. we all miss blister.

on the cock

dear how wide does your mouth open diary,

when i yawn, my mouth opens so wide and my whole body trembles. my body has an earthquake, even when i am not tired. it is a whole body experience and really, when i think about it, not so unlike when i have an orgasm, but usually i don't yawn during those. i have fallen asleep on the cock a couple of times, but i didn't charge when that happened, for obvious reasons. i felt bad, even though there is a medical reason behind my sudden ill timed nap, i still cant feel good about a malfunctioning whore who cant do her job correctly. yes, it is a dirty dirty job, but one someone must do, and one that i very much enjoy, this whore thing. the hours are perfect. the job qualifications fit me so well, and my performance can not be surpassed.

uncomfortable?

dear when you spend the time diary,

i love the supreme court. they get to decide all of the good shit. i think if i was a sitting judge that's where i'd want to be sitting at. i'd want to be on the panel looking over mistakes other big guys could have made. a judge is supposed to be like an umpire at a ball game, but you know and i know the judge is always for the home team. i would be a fair and impartial judge at all costs, even if that meant i went broke. i thought i was the only one who could speak with the dead. oh wow.

oral stips in written cons

dear hot and clean diary,

finally i did what every whore should once a week at least, i bathed my self in the appropriate manner, and shaved my legs again before the seaweed reappeared. i like my new fusion razor with four blades. i don't much care for women's razors and never have. i like to chop the shit off and be done. i am not a sissy and into the glamour of things, especially shaving. i don't use baby powder down there either for crying out loud, but guess who does, i cant even bring myself to type it. the visual of cuntface sprinkling it on him is too much for me at the moment, so i'll let you determine who i am referring to. i will tell you though, it has caused a stipulation in my contracts for new customers. paragraph six: line nine states; i can not do oral if there is even the remote smell of baby powder. it makes me want to throw up.

bad medicine

dear at the corner diary,

be extra sure to check at the corner, for i'm telling you at the utility box messages get delivered to there. sometimes when whores leave their thongs at your house, he will put them there. and sometimes he will leave payment for services, which he must slip out of your purse. but in order for him to do that you see, you must come home with it first. then there are times he begs for various medications, which are not from radamacher of course, he'd beg for antidepressants and stimulants and various other kinds of the sorts. i'd always give in, he wanted to be thin, he said his depression was out of control. he said when he'd get out of the hole he was in- he wouldn't need medicine, but until then it was all that really did help. man i was dumb, i should have cut off my thumb and mailed it to their house. i should have filled up those pills with whatever it took to rid that man of his woes.

anything to help matters

dear smell of your head diary,

there is only but a few things that i miss in this life about certain things i don't have a part of any longer, and quite possibly the smell of the side of the head could be one thing i would beg to forget, if i could. it was so sweet and i would have no problem identifying that smell at any given time, but what i do not understand is how that smell changed so fast when it got to your neck. your porky pig neck stunk like burnt oil glazed on the back of a skunk and sometimes the air in our town smells the same way. i will not soon forget that either it seems, but the top side of your head was a dream, and that's why i always had my hands up there when you fucked me. well, that and to try and keep that little mother fucker from falling out.

how it works man

dear on the menu diary,

today of all days, is the day of all days, i have nothing to do but the same exact thing i did yesterday, AND and 100 days before that- which is- FUCKING NOTHING. seriously. could my life get any busier? any more "perfect" like i been claiming this whole time that it is? humm, let's analyze this. i haven't had a bath since sunday. i'm ripe. however i do believe i brushed my teeth on monday, but not yesterday. yesterday i only flossed after i ate a hot dog and pancakes. i flossed twice. i always floss and scrape my tongue and rinse my mouth out and spit or swallow. i still have becky hairs all over me. my kitchen looks like a bomb went off. i cleaned out the vacuum yesterday, but i never used it. and now i am ready for a nap. so i dunno. it seems i'm right on schedule.

innocently rubbing ass

dear thoughts that awaken me diary, 

sometimes the things that wake me up are different during the middle of the week than say- the beginning of the week when my thoughts are slow and not used to how things are going to be yet. by midweek, i pretty much know how the rest of the week is gunna turn out, i guess, and that is what jolts me into wakefulness in that abrupt manner. kaboom- i see the clock. i don't want to get up. it's way early and i am in no need for a worm. then i think, "yeah, i can blog," and light begins to shine in my window. besides, i wont be up long. i'll pull the shade shortly. i slept like a tiny baby puppy in a litter of furry kittens last night. i snuggled with my girl and held her little ass until we both floated away. hard telling who nodded off first, but if i had to guess, it was me, i was tired and when i rub her butt like that- it makes me sleep instantly. playing with becky's ass relaxes me and it does her as well. i used to love the feeling myself, but now it causes me to jump and fear for my very life. last time the unibomber tried to rub my butt, i farted (on purpose) and i haven't had that problem since. i keep my ass towards the wall now. ima smart whore.

looking into the mouth of a hero

dear ever known a bucktooth diary,

i've known people with some fucked up teeth, but what is worse than twisted up teeth like my old friend drunk kelly, is having the big row of gums above the front teeth when you smile. i always wondered what caused that. i think i have teeth that fit in my mouth pretty good. i hated wearing braces when i was a teenager, but i'm glad i did. my teeth were never terribly crooked, but i had a tiny space which i could spit a mile through and drove my mom insane with my polished skill. i thank my lucky stars i've never busted one. but if there ever comes a time that i do, hopefully i'll find a dentist half as good as you.

shovel this

dear not an accident diary,

cutting a corner is what usually causes accidents, i hate snow. yet part of me wants to move to alaska to make myself fall in love with the shit. to make myself stay there until it consumes my every thought. mesmerized by the sparkling radiance in the sunlight, i want to be, and unafraid of its ability to freeze the life from the living beneath. i'll go, but i will always hate snow.

i like your hair

dear great thinkin stinkin diary,

i really thought it was a good idea. i never hold out hope for the impossible. ima hopeless whore. i wait and  wonder how things would have worked if ida kept my nose out of it. but it's in there now and i cant be mad about that. i like my nose. i like the shape of it. there isn't a ball at the end of it and there are no lumps or humps in the bridge of it and it's pretty straight- as i've yet to break it. it's not a jewish nose either- it's a slender nose and fits fine on my face. it matches my chin really well- they both are swell. but it is a done deal and what a great meal. pancakes for dinner- what a winner. what a big decision and made with great precision, you know i'm all about some of that.

heads or tails (heads stupid)

dear what do you do about it diary,

deciding i was lucky wasn't really something i had to sit around and think about, i always knew i was ever since i learned what the word meant. nobody told me either, i found out on my own. it was pretty easy to figure out, all i had to do was look around. i had everything growing up and i have everything now. i try not to fall back and depend on luck all the time, but it is good to know it's in my back pocket. if you are kind and respect what it can do, luck will treat the shit out of you.  

glasses and contact

dear looking my kid in the eye diary,

i don't think i could look my children in the eyes if the unibomber pulled a stunt like that and then came back home after i had to let that mother fucker buy a new bike- and live in the same house and sleep in the same bed where he fucked that whore in the ass? oh hail naw. some shit would have to give. i don't care if he did change his marital status to married on facebook- he still trolls at romantix and on craig's list. i couldn't look my daughter in the face knowing he had pictures of her giving head in the malibu at krogers in brettwood village. but that's just me. i always wondered what those were used for. i wonder if the wedding ring of the step mother was ever found after zachary stole it. i'd be awful proud of one of my two grown children if they were accused of that- or writing checks on accounts that weren't theirs, which believe me- does suck. yes, CUNTFACE, look those kids in the eye when you lie, to yourself and everybody else. nobody grows old by living a number of years, we grow old by sorting lies. that's why your neck is all sucked in my friend, your skin leathered and thin, and you think you need to be evil to win. yes, you got your prize, of junior size, which will inevitably be your ultimate demise. just as i laughed as i laid in your bath and soaked in your tub that day, i laugh until the thoughts go away and they do.

another round

dear danger just adds to the excitement diary,

now, for whatever reason i was brought here today to be a whore. i take this honor with great pleasure and you must trust that i am willing to devote my entire being to doing it the best way i know how. i will always be able to accept responsibility for my meager and frivolous actions. in flashes of sentiment, i find myself embarrassed for some of the things i've done, but not guilty, because they were fun. i'd prolly do them each all over again- even though they were sins- i could never take a life, but SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE WIFE. 

try yellow like jaundice

dear old mcdonald had some heartburn diary,

all day long those eggs and gravy damn near kilt me. the fuck if they didn't. anyone else get sick from eating that shit? it's prolly just me ain't it? so my dad is itching to go to california. he has the itch bad. now i can get the itch anytime. i just started itching earlier this afternoon. that's when my heartburn finally dissipated. i gave thanks and began looking for my little orange notebook again. it was found and now it is at large again. what an important possession this is to me. one i would hate to lose forever, but can never seem to keep ahold of on a consistent basis. it has a great amount of comedy material hand written (in pencil) and stage notes that i use when performing on stage and IF i were to go to california, that would be the first thing i would pack and the only thing i would take if i could only take one thing. what if it is gone again- only this time forever. i only use pencil when i write with my hand. i'm right handed. did you know that left handed people live shorter lives? left handed heroes- even shorter, SHOUT OUT ALL YOU LEFT HANDED HEROES! sorry about your luck. well then, with that said and fully understood, i suppose i could start a new orange notebook. maybe even try a new color scheme this time around.

lots to do (after i do nothing)

dear i feel like doing something today diary,

what that would be i don't even know, but i cant eat. i know that. what else is there to do? i want to clean the bathroom, but what fun is that? omg. i ain't doing that today. i want to clean the kitchen too. bahahahah. fuck all that. i'm sick. i have heartburn. well maybe laundry then. i really am sick, cuz i ain't doing that shit. i need to go shopping and buy some new fingernail polish. i hate my colors- all 117 of them bitches. i'm just tired of every single one. i need a good color for my toes. i need my hairs cut. i need my eyebrows plucked out. i need my face chemically peeled off. i need a massage. mmm. i need a new hat. i need to watch but not help somebody clean out my car too. i get evil ideas what to do with car trash, so i try not to clean out my car. seriously, ima need a nap before i do anything. my eyeballs just started their crossing bullshit. i cant do shit anymore.

screws in the foot

dear broken ass foot diary,

i went to ruby tuesday's today, but it wasn't a tuesday like it is today and i ain't being a smartass. butt fuck me if i cant remember what day of the week it was either, so i suppose it could have been a tuesday, even though i know it wasn't. now you're gunna make me look- ain't cha. son of a bitch. you are. well hold on then. damner. shit. hail. it was a wednesday SO HAHAHA. on wednesday, 6/7/6, my kid, prince william broke his foot. wanna see?

i felt really awful for the little fucker, but the one person who made it all seem better at the time was the hero. he was the one who helped little prince william the most through the trauma of it all. he helped me too. i may have never even found out how the incident even happened had it not been for the efforts of the hero. looking back at all the time and love the hero had invested in my life and family, it is hard to believe someone could do all that for a piece of ass in passing. i wish ida told his cuntface wife in the surgical department that june afternoon WHEN SHE WAS NOT WORKING IN MY SON'S SURGERY, how damn perfect her husband was. then ida known i was a whore three years sooner. 

wax on; wax off

dear tornado sirens and chopsticks diary,

every time i eat mcdonalds and go to bed i get heartburn like a bitch. i never do learn. i need slapped in the whore head next time i even THINK about going to get that shit at 4AM. damn i miss maria coming today. tuesday's ain't the same without a cleaned up house. i really took for granted all the days she was here and cleaned like the mexican wonder woman she really was. i need to find another maria, clearly the house is falling apart without supervision and direction from a captain. i had to buy more pinesol because i don't know where maria kept it at around here. same with the magic erasers and tilex and all the other cleaners. i couldn't find any of them except the windex and thank goodness i found that or ida never been able to get on top of these ants so quickly. i wish you could get high off of lemon pledge- it smells so good. i would carry it around in my purse prolly- and sneak around and sniff the can. i was the duster in my house when i was a kid- because i liked the smell then too. the generic kind don't smell like the good kind- and really the lemon is my favorite flavor. that's why i liked my big sleigh bed a whole bunch, cuz i could polish it all the time, but it took up my whole damned room- so i had to take it down and store it- so i haven't had the opportunity to polish it in many years now. i really miss that bed.

paid advertisement

dear sometimes you can just tell diary,

it is the taste of the air. maybe. or the way the stars are. maybe. or the way the sun is. maybe. or the way the birds chirp. prolly. i dunno. but i can always tell what shift of a day it is without even counting the days. like i give a damn. LIKE I GIVE A DAMN. fuck. fuck me. fuck me in the ass. hum. true grit. it's a safe day. while that is always something to look forward to, what i look forward to the most is the day tick meets the tock and the farmer climbs up the clock and it strikes forty one and the shits all done and then we can all get high. big sigh. no lie. do or die. baked or fried. nothing but a five thousand dollar reward. everything is all getting dark. he's gone. poor kid. i owed him five bucks.

eggs and gravy

dear strange happenings diary,

that was just a coincidence, i am sure. the wind picked that up and set it back down gently. i just got back from mcdonalds. i couldn't say a word so i kept my big mouth shut. but the eggs sure were good today. i commend the chef. if you get there right at four when they flip over to breakfast, it's five star. don't be a fraidy cat to eat eggs there- it's like vacation for me- it feels like. hurry up, my house is haunted you know. i can always tell around four in the mourning. it's a sad time in my house, the mourning time. i have a visitor in my house who doesn't scare me- but i cant see them. my dogs can and infants can. i just feel the presence and hear things. in the days of old, i think my visitor ghost sang sweet music because sometimes my walls seem to echo with the sound of wet music."six lions shall tear you apart," is what the solo ghost choir just sang to me, now i don't think i've heard that song- it's a new one and oh so heavenly...

discard tiles and pass turn

dear hairs in my bra diary,

for the last two games i have whooped the unibomber in scrabble on the atari360, but he doesn't play for points like i do- he plays for tile space. he wants long spread out words all over the board and i fill them in and "lock up the board and ruin the game," he says. i like playing it on the tv because then he cant cheat, at all, except there is this website he can go where he plugs in all the letters he has and it will shit him out a word with every letter he can use and where he can use it. he still cant rack up more points. plus i know more words. i just do. i ain't sayin i am smarter- at all. y'all decide that on yer own. right now i find myself hungry for a grilled cheese sandwich cooked in the magic skillet. i must bathe before bed to remove the becky hairs from within my bra- and on my chest where i've been sweating. finally my turn again. gawd doggit.

nicknacks in take home sacks

dear i'm there diary,

ima clobber the unibomber for moving my bathtub. i just hate it where it is now. oh now shit, hang on, i need a q-tip, brb. my brain was draining again. what do you guys think about getting a new phone? do i need one?  i think i do okay with the one i have now, but i can get a free upgrade. i love my cell phone company. i think i loved them more when i was a cheating whore- because all of my incoming calls were (and still are) free. and since i NEVER called the hero- i never used any minutes on the tiny dick fucker. at least i have that. i did text the fat fucker though, but i text anyone. i'm a friendly texter. i'd rather text than talk anyway. diving into the psyche of a whore, you will usually find the softest of personalities. i ain't a perfect person and never claimed to be, but i welcome baggage because i am a sucker for lifetime souvenirs. it doesn't bother me if you have baggage- or luggage- i display mine like decoration and laugh at it as often as possible. when the shame rushes in- i wash it away with the smiles of what i know is nothing in comparison to what it could have been. my head spins with the importance it was all given. but you get into the process of what makes sense and what doesn't and when you observe the current situation and remember the images from the past, with all due respect, i am quickly reminded of how history repeats itself. painting that not-so-pretty picture, just now, i bow my head in disgrace. i shake my head is disbelief. i put forth my bestest evidence. i have no doubt in my mind.

where the big boys are (ain't facebook)

dear out yonder in the back forty one diary,

what an interesting day. i don't go hunting often. in fact, someone else almost has to tell me when there is shit out there to go hunt at- i honestly don't prowl around. i am just so busy. plus i hate facebook. hate it. i like twitter and reading blogs. honestly though, twitter gets annoying because of the limit to character spacing. man. fuck a limit. fuck a speed limit. fuck a time limit. and fuck a character limit. fuck a credit limit too. fuck a glass ceiling. la dee dash space pound sign dot dot dah. i like my twits and i like my twats. what i don't like is my facebook. that is kiddy shit. K.I.D.D.Y.S.H.I.T. diaperville. if i had fifteen thousand stawkers in faceshit land- i'd have to have a fanpage. i like it right here- where all the big girls and boys are.  

ima start biting back

dear ain't that awful diary,

i thought how nice it would be to lace up the dogs and take them for a walk on this new double leash i really don't need but spent a fortune on. so i put my little shorts on and my butt shaping sketchers- and put my hair up, got the dogs ready and headed out. i made it to the driveway where i hooked up the grump and decided to leave becky loose- for the time being anyway- last time she did so well- i didn't even need to leash her. so it was time to go. the grump dropped to the ground and growled. i pulled a gentle tug. he wasn't gunna budge. i pulled harder. nope- still not budging. i pulled real hard- and the only thing that scooted was the harness around his body.then he got pissed and turned and bit the leash. i pretty much knew his walk had ended. so i bent down to unclasp the leash from his harness and that's when he did it. he bit me on the same hand the snake did the other day. what is it with these beasts in my company? i thought you weren't supposed to bite the hand that fed you? at least he didn't leave ELEVEN fang marks like the REPTILE did- (or draw blood) but STILL.

the happy ending

dear hungry whore diary,

i woke up and my phone was all lit up. i got all squirmy cuz it was a message from my second boyfriend, which i found odd since i'd mentioned him earlier in my virginity post. he's in florida and very happy with his new woman, but we are still very close and text and visit when he comes back to see his parents. the unibomber and i even took the kids down and stayed with him a couple of times- so he really is an awesome guy. when i saw the picture he sent, i immediately text back and told him i was putting it on my blog. i just love it. i might have to send it a few other places as well. i dunno why i've posted so many pictures this week. i guess that's just the way it all turned out.

i'll take two of those

missing ring finger

dear speaking to and of the almighty hand diary,

people don't always see what i see. i have eyes. i do not wear glasses, except at night, my raybans. i can get the picture though and you ain't gotta color it in for me either. i like crayons. did we forget something? lose something? or was it not part of our wardrobe that day. maybe the metal in the band did not coordinate with the canvas in the shoes or the kacky in the shorts. i dunno, but that's looks like the hand i saw every single day for all those years. just sayin.

golden ring? plastic watch that pulled my hair.

she ain't that smart

dear here is something to think about diary,

i found this delicious tidbit on the internet while browsing and cant help but wonder who CUNTFACE had in the back of her mind when she wrote it. and... is it a threat, a promise, a warning, a fortune, advice? and does she consider herself a WOMAN OR A GIRL??  i am more confused NOW than ever- on at least 41 levels. AND SHE SPELLED BOUNDARIES WRONG LOOK AHAHAHAHA.

"Aries " bold and self-confident, have masses of energy and courage and will rush in where angels fear to tread"
I'll take care of my own you take care of yours. Most likely your life isn't as perfect as you would like to imagine it is. I am who I am. One strong willed fiery woman. I have a great life with wonderful friends that are like family. I have 2 grown children whom I am very proud of. I have learned no matter how good of a person you are there are always people that will hurt you. Loyalty, respect, and trust: foundation to any relationship. I have had some pretty hard hits but one thing that is for sure, I am strong and I don't stay down long and I come back stronger than ever. As my friends can attest, I can be the best friend you can come across. Others who have learned know crossing boundries with me is a mistake not quickly forgotten. I do not forgive easily. I say what is on my mind, if you don't like it more than likely it is because it's true. I work hard and play harder.
And as only those south shores girls know: a south shores girl at heart!"

buy the hero a new bike, and maybe he wont cheat FOR A WEEK.
KIDNEY CUNTFACE (L) CUNTFACE (M) HERO (BACK R)

no rope

dear arabian diary,

Αυτή η εικόνα μπορεί να υπόκειται στη νομοθεσία περί πνευματικής ιδιοκτησίας. is that not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? i wonder what it says? i think it says, "damn you are the most captivating whore, i am a repetitive insomniac." i dunno know for sure though. it could say, "you are a dumb whore and need your twat chopped off." at any rate, i woke up at 6:19AM, figuring i could just roll on over, no dope, becky had to go out. she ran right out to chase a snake. SLUT. i gave her a fat fist to chase when she came back in- because NOW I AM UP CHUCK and wide awake. but i'll be asleep again in ten minutes. cuz i got it like that. make that nine minutes and 41 seconds. xoxoxo.

death by ass

dear there is a GOD diary,

tonight i got some relief. i KNOW what lady gaga's ass will look like in fifteen years.  wanna know how i know??? okay i'll cave in and show you, but promise that your feelings WILL NOT change towards me afterwards. PROMISE?? okay then look at it and then i'll tell you. i apologize for the quality, just LOOK at the fucking picture and shut the FUCK UP. this is what lady gaga's ass looks like NOW.

look at the head on that. now, without further ado, i want to say, wow. i need to again say, WOW. now, after i process seeing the photo enlarged, again, wow. i could go in the bathroom right now and produce a photo that looks damn near identical to this- i'm almost positive. i think the majority of women could, (or one better) as i see NOTHING special about that ass- and it shore ain't looking twenty five in them granny panties. and that's being on the one hundred or however you say that. again, wow, GIVE ME THE CAMERA, shit- i'll put that bitch down my pants- hail. thank you for making her the superstar though, it makes me feel much better as a whore.

moist towelettes

dear virgin whore diary,

yep. busy day in the old anniversary book today, i'll tell you what. i lost my virginity twenty four years ago on this busy day and it sucked. my first boyfriend sucked and he is on facebook (not that i looked) and if i wasn't so embarrassed i would go copy his criminal ass picture havin ass and put it right up on my post here- but i would die if you all seen the creep i was so whooped on and cried over like a dumbass. and he fucked all my friends. and he let all his friends watch him fuck me. ain't that some shit. then he said i gave head like a wet washrag. omg. after i made him wait a year. can you believe that shit? then he got married to a black lady and they named their baby the same name i picked out for our baby. AND my first baby came out looking JUST like my first boyfriend and we hadn't had sex in six years (but he shore don't be looking like him now thank you Jesus in the sky) he lives in florida- it says on his thing. he can stay down there with my second boyfriend. i like him though. hey, i still like my first boyfriend too- the piece of shit. i saw him in 1994 right before i had prince harry. he was all trying to get some pregnant booty. he said, "i'm the one that made you a woman," all proud and shit. i looked at him and said, "naw, you the one sent me back to school to stop messin with the washrags."

i couldn't resist. i figured he's no worse than the hero
afterall- prolly better- for sure bigger.

collect call with reverse charges

dear fifteen years ago diary,

standing on the boardwalk on virginia beach fifteen years ago later on today, i called back home to my biological mother here in illinois and told her i had a surprise for her. but she was the one who had a surprise for me. see, she'd told me since the day we'd met- who my 'daddy' was and where his parents lived- so i'd did my homework and it led me to virginia beach, virginia. i'd just not told her yet- i didn't want to hurt her feelings- or get her hopes up- or anything like that. but having his address in hand, knowing that's where i was going next, i gave her a call. after i hung up, well shit, where do you go after that? she said there were two candidates, you guys are gunna love this and remember, YOU CANT MAKE THIS SHIT UP. she told me on the beach that day, there was the plumber AND the leake. i went and stalked the man i know today as my biological father and DNA confirmed what i already knew by looking at ONE baby picture. her first guess was right. but still. keep your kitty in the yard.

got the clapper bug

dear egg white only omelet no cheese bugs diary,

earlier, i was hot, late, and fresh from the tub- i got a couple of lotto tickets for tonight and still don't know how they played out. i can not take this place right now. momma told me when i was young, some people look over things others think are so important. she told me not to be like that. it is for this reason i watch for the reason. when i go fast down the road, i seem to wait more. there, in the shade waiting tonight- what i thought was a bird passed above my breast. i looked down to see if it had shit. it was one of those dumb bugs. it began to rattle and clap at  me. then others began to rattle and clap and soon there was a thunder of applause and a garden of rattle snakes descending from the darkness around me. that shit was loud as hell. then there was ONE in my car. people eat those things. not me. i wont. some claim they wont come into the city. they're over here on my side of town. i can share my side of town, but not my freaking dinner plate.

a cleaner laptop than the post before

dear first lick diary,

my gawd the first lick of a sucker always turns my mouth inside out and fills it all up with spit and immediately starts working on turning that stick into the worthless piece of mush paper it is. why cant they just make mouth sized candy this good without the damn stick- i have always wondered- but i dunno- they prolly do and i am the only dumb whore left in the world who doesn't know about it. i sound like a dying person in intensive care on a respirator when i suck a sucker with no hands, fuck if i didn't just make myself laugh and spit sticky spit all over CUZ OF YOU GUYS, but it is hard to breath and swallow and lick and suck and type- all without making a noise. i usually make noise when i suck anyway, but that's beside the point, i also make noise when other things suck- like when there used to be a run in the joint. this orange charm sweet pop sucker, my last one from the state farm insurance lady, is so damn tasty, i love it. SHOUT OUT BEST INSURANCE COMPANY EVER!!

the detour

dear not the post i was gonna post diary,

man- i know you guys get tired of hearing about becky. and i swear this post wasn't even posta be about her but look at what i just looked over and saw. i mean look.

how can i even think about posting anything else now. i want to snuggle in next to her and kiss her and love on her and smell her. she had a bath yesterday and smells so good. she is so snugly sweet. cant you just tell by looking how much she loves me and wants me to hold her? i cant stop looking over at her and scrolling up to see the picture and she's still layin the exact same way. i wish the grump was this cute. you guys want to see his stupid retarded dumb ignorant ass?

there you go.

on my property line

dear angry thoughts inside a jar diary,

i don't keep pissy thoughts in my head. i put them inside a mason dixon jar. then i seal the jar with a lid. a fermented pissy thought will cure and when released from a sealed glass (has to be sterile) jar, it will then be the sweetest- most purest thought ever. that is how rock candy is made, only you use a string. once all the pissy-ness evaporates- you're left with the good stuff. except, i ain't a big fan of rock candy, but i do collect old mason jars. especially the blue ones. those are the ones i call dixons. other people prolly don't call them dixon jars, but that makes no matter to me. i'll call them what i damn well please. sauerkraut can be made by also packing a mason jar full of shredded cabbage and putting salt on top and sealing the jar and letting it rot. i don't eat that shit either for fear it will kill me and i have seen many jars broken while the cabbage is being tightly packed into the jars. i think the whole process is a bit stupid myself- the older generation will swear by it. ewww. fucking gag me. i wonder if one angry thought with shredded cabbage sealed in a sterile mason dixon jar and then fermented for forty one days in the summer sun would evolve into a saucer of kentucky fried chicken coleslaw with gravy on it AND a grilled chicken wing. ima see about trying that.

good night johnboy

dead damner diary,

i'm finally up for the day. oh my what a typo up there we have. ima leave it. i think it is adorable. i just got done running from the unibomber in my dream- we lived on william street and i was hiding on the phone talking to the goat. so there you go. i'd say that pretty much sums things up. all the facts are wrong however, if you want to dissect the dream for political correctness. i didn't know the goat yet when i lived on william street, for one, and two, i don't THINK i had a cell phone until right before we moved to the farm, BUT, i was entirely faithful to the unibomber until four years later when i met the horseshoer- who i have NEVER mentioned until now. i think we should call him johnboy. really that's all i want to say about him, except, fuck him and the horse he rode in on. but i think knowing him is what woke something up inside of me that i didn't know was still there and in need of attention. after knowing him- my heart would never be still again.

monetize my flat ass

dear over-blogging diary,

in an attempt to slow down my blogging rate, i limit myself to one blog per hour now. then when i over blog, i set them to post an hour later and so on. i wonder if anyone has seen my clips over on the 'whore boob tube.' i'm gunna change all those pretty quick- so you better look soon before the programming changes. since not one person has offered to buy me that rock i have on there yet- i might as well ditch it too- i'm thinking about trying for something else now. one thing i promise you guys will never find when you get here though is advertisements to buy shit. i mean- i'll tell you once in a while when i personally LIKE a product- like those TGIF fried green beans the other day- and opi nail polish- and hi-c drink pouches (lava blast orange)- and tylenol, but i won't ever be having 'RELATIVE ADVERTISEMENTS,' so i just wish they would stop begging. shit.

e-whormany.com

dear good morning worm your honor diary,

i haven't seen the snake in three days. part of me hopes it has died under that rock. forgive me for thinking that out loud, but fuck man, i have suffered a tremendous amount of abuse AND it costs me out the ass twat to feed that thing. AND it takes up SO much room in my living room. the only two things good about a snake are; they are quiet and don't smell. i thought about taking it over to my dad's house. but then what would he say about that i wonder. he might get a kick out of it, or he might snap. well snap ain't really the best word to  use, my dad doesn't snap about anything. he may suggest a better place. of course i would still be responsible for feeding it and all that- cleaning out the tank and all- even though i know my dad prolly wouldn't be scared to touch the snake like everyone else is around here. maybe i'll get on craig's list and look for a new life partner/soul mate for my snake. there's so many to choose from on there- i'll just bet i can find her the perfect match.

no helmet law

dear looking out diary,

waking up to what we had is obviously not what happened this morning. but i did just wake up from THE most fabulous of slumber, and relieved you were nowhere to be found in my dreams. and then there was the reward of the rain it seems and the curiosity of what time all that must have started. i slept through all the above, like i said, but it doesn't keep a whore from smiling- at all. the grass seed i planted needs the rain and my flowers and tomatoes do too. i water them with the hose most everyday- but it is the rain water that will make everything grow to the moon. i pity those who aren't prepared for rain- it can get you really wet and make you cold if you aren't ready.

Loads of Dope

dear what little i do know diary,

what raises serious doubt are the questions that linger. it is an assassination of what residual feelings that were left like soap scum on the side of the bathtub. there is nothing wrong with getting rid of scum though is there? turns out, that strawberry blood that i dribbled on my shirt the other day stained the shit out of my yellow tide shirt. i got it washing again with clorox for colors and i sprayed it with shout- but i'm almost for certain it wont come out. FUCK another shirt ruined from putting shit in my mouth. and what a good shirt it was too- i liked it a LOT. when it came it said, 'LOADS OF HOPE' but i changed one letter. now ima eat an ice cream bar and scrub my nails and prolly think about what ima do later on today after i sail my sails.