ashes to the sea

dear long ass pony tail diary,

my hair is getting long again. i should cut it. i should do many things. becky got lost earlier tonight and i couldn't find her anywhere. then i thought i heard her make her grunt noise in my room as i passed by my door so i flipped the light on and sure enough there she was- in my bed. i couldn't see her though- she was under my blanket and when i tried to uncover her i realized she wasn't coming out, she was caught up in there pretty good. in fact my blanket ripped a couple more good times by the time i got her freed up and out of it, making quite certain this will be the last year for my use of it- if not the last night. ima miss my dear blanket. ima burn my blanket and take the ashes to the pacific coast highway. ima wear my hair up in a pony tail when i throw the ashes into the sunset and all the ugly will float away.

ridge filler

dear seeing it all diary,

when i get my mind set, there ain't no changing it and that is one quality about me that can be good or it can be really bad. i never know if my mind being set was a bad thing until usually much later- after it is to late to do anything and by then i can usually tell you- i wish ida changed my mind. i suppose to a certain extent- we all do it- but when my mind gets set on an idea- i cant do shit else until i do it. that is when i will feel the relief. i am not a pacer. i do not walk the floors. i am not a nail biter anymore either. i stopped biting december 3, 1992 and by valentine's day 1993 i had my first coat of paint on them. by the time my baby came the end of may, my nails were so long i had to file them all down so i didn't poke the little fucker. it was hard filing my nails away, but i did it for my baby. i do not regret that.

the baby and the tramp

dear i don't feel the way i always feel diary,

hello. looking for me? i've been napping. i slept so dammed good it ain't even funny. i see the street got wet. so that means it rained. that's gunna make my tomatoes grow. you know i have them now. but they are tiny green bitches that i wouldn't dare pick. i like fried green tomatoes at the end of the season, don't you dare touch one before i've had a red one or i just might have to kill someone. i saw a toddler today. my heart started to get excited. before long it will be me holding the hand of a child and strolling down the street. well except i wont be walking down the road like some homeless tramp with my toddler. i often wonder if i should have had another baby and then i thought today how maybe i didn't so i could better help out with this child. i hope they do rely on me. i remember how i always wished i could have had my mom to help me with the little shits when i brought them home. i never got any sleep and still don't.

BONANZA

dear new author blog diary,

once roger starts following me HINT ROGER on this blog, ima make him an author. then when we decide a good name for this bitch- i'll switch it all over we'll start generating some traffic through here. mmmmmm. traffick. we'll hide all those dumbass posts that exist now and make them SUPER HARD TO FIND (i said hard) and start this bitch all over.

it's in the tv stand (where it goes) ASSHOLE

dear winner takes it all diary,

stand up and be counted then get the fuck out of here. the unibomber is so proud of himself today. he is wearing his underwear still and already had a fucking fit because he cant find the furniture polish to clean his guitar i think, i suppose it could be to dust.... he claims it isn't about the furniture polish either, he says i am 'lying' and he can, "never get a straight answer out of any of you people," and i'm just amused this is all over some dammed ass furniture polish, or is it? well i decided after he used that tone- i ain't getting him shit. in fact, i think i will go to fugi's steakhouse and eat lunch. i like watching them fuckers cook it on that big grill thing- and having them cut up my meat in little pieces so i ain't gotta. suck on this unibomber bitch. maybe when i come home from having lunch- the house will be dusted. we'll see.

sand patroL

dear for certain diary,

i just got a big laugh. i did. i wrote this  really angry post once upon a time and i was pissed apparently and its funny and all true. i do not remember writing it- so it is one of those kind. i wet myself, so now i must go get a towel.

first shift naps are primo

dear that sucked again diary,

two nights in a row. sucky and double sucky. i hope this ain't the start of a new thing or some shit. oh dear. i believe i would certainly consider smoking some pot. seriously. or eating it. or boiling it down and letting the oil absorb into my skin. i am not even playin. i am an avid sleeper and when something goes haywire- i gotta fix it. i'll go rent a hotel tonight iffin i have to. it's a safe day i think. the air tastes like it. i've been wrong before. i need to blow my nose- i should be able to tell better then. i thought about paying the power bill today- even though it ain't actually due yet. i like paying shit early because it's less to pay later when it gets late. i will nap today folks- at some point- the high point of my day no doubt.

the TV works now man

dear porch diary,

i went to bed, i swear i did, but when i got there i got so pissed off that i went and got my laptop deal and here we are, back in bed. i turned on the tv and made one TINY fucking mistake and the way the unibomber has the fucking thing set up- it's prolly fucked up for life. first of all the porch is on the tv. if i wanted to watch the porch- i would go outside and look at it. second, blue split screen, sharing the 42" i am looking at half porch and half blue screen now because of my tiny mistake. third, no sound- he has the ear phones jacked on and the speakers off, so when i do see a picture that isn't half of the porch- there wont be any sound. why have a tv. why why why why. i am pissed. so here we all are. blogging again. yay. oh, i also shut down my facebook account tonight, deactivated it. when it asked me for a reason- all i put in the little box was, "facebook is stale." i would rather watch my porch than be on facebook.

money in my cereal box

dear i was diary,

i was going to do another post before i went to bed but i decided instead to do this. i painted my snails. they will be oh so beautiful to wake up to. beat to a pulp is what i am, but willing to stay up if i had an offer. oh that reminds me. i got a picture tonight. so i wanna share. i feel like some fruit. i'd like some strawberries or any kind of melon. but my cravings are always weird before bed- so it's hard tellin. goin to bed kiddos nighty night... and let me do some thinkin on that roger.... how bout we do that on my other blog? LOL

ocean search for flowers

dear vase of flowers diary,

still, i don't like flowers. the only flowers i like are the ones i get at the cemetery after a funeral has left and the ones i grow in my yard. but as far as cut flowers i like the funeral ones the best. they are big and colorful and stupid. it's sad that after the services are all over they just leave them laying out in the yard like they do, but they do and if i come along, i'll grab one or two and bring it home and put them by my bed.

bricks in the garden

know me yet bitch?

dear done is not dead diary,

people are fucking strange. and they crack me up. but that is just the bonus. i let the most hated despised individual(s) into the deepest most private thoughts and inner conversations i have inside my head and i do this why? i have many reasons, but the main one, the one that soars above pretty much all others, i want everyone to see what actually goes on inside an empty whore's head. it is important and a vast undertaking, collecting these thoughts and organizing them and reorganizing them just so. but they all have to start somewhere and usually that is the end and that's why i say 'done' is different than 'dead.' when relationships end sometimes people grieve and it can feel like a death, but death is different than done in ways. in death there is no looking on facebook and when you're done you just part ways.

medically wondering

dear it took awhile diary,

i suppose it is time for me to get my big retarded ass up off this couch again, i just saw the circus people drive off so i know i can go outside. i prolly sound so awful when i talk like that, but it is so strange letting people touch you all over your body, for free, and trying so hard to act like it doesn't bother you in any sort of way. i know y'all got this big mental image of me being a whore and all, and i don't want to destroy that image, but i (as a general rule) don't like being touched. there is a time and a place for everything and touching is one of those things that i believe is to be maintained within a private environment. not only that, i have no touch zones on my body and these kids seem to go right to them. the hero did too. that's why i was thinking that on that chromosome 7- maybe those people who are missing some and have that syndrome bad like my little neighbors, maybe the hero just had a couple missing on his chromosome. i dunno, but i said i wasn't gunna worry about it anymore. fuck. it's just so fun.

at the CAR WASH

dear peeking around the corner diary,

i don't often plan to go the places i go, never do really as much as possible, but when i find myself in places i've been it can be jolting when i blink my eyes and find myself where i once was laughing and happy and thinking of the future with such optimism- even if it was at 6AM when i was doing the laughing and thinking. today i laughed too while i was there for no reason, but it was 2PM and the weather- well outside it was a california day- not the dead of winter. fuck it is nice outside. i wish it was like this everyday. i could no longer handle the flood of memories that continued to ambush me, as this seemed to be our favorite stall. i left. i had to anyway. someone else wanted to either reminisce or wash their car.


memory wash

  

wingin it

dear the high point diary,

up again up again and off to the show. i thought i would take a bath maybe but i don't know. i told william we would go out for mexican food and he just arrived, but if we don't end up going he would prolly survive. i am hungry though. okay it is time for me to go. time for me to fly. time for me to get off my ass and at least try.

the broken spoke

dear all in all diary,

i know that complaining about things is a giant waste of time, we all know that, but i still do it. it's funny though- the shit i complain about. it seems like the bigger the issue, the less likely ima bitch about it. how much sense does that make. it is supposed to be, 'dont sweat the small stuff,' but for me it goes, 'dont sweat the big stuff, and snap over the small stuff.' i can fix the little shit that goes aloof, but that big shit anymore- i have lost my touch. i used to make everything better, but now, not so much. i've recently noticed i'm depending on money more to correct shit i used to be able to fix on my own. i think it's because i have it now. if i didn't have it, i'd still be having to rely on my old ways instead of taking the easy way out. i miss being resourceful and thinking for myself. i think i will cash in all my pennies today.

good mourning city slickers

dear up to meet the coconut truck diary,

i didn't sleep worth a damn, but i never do when the windows are open. it ain't the country here in the shitty city. man i am telling you now, right now, here and now, you ain't slept til you slept in the country. birds really don't even chirp there and if they do, you don't hear them. no heroes blaring by at all hours of the day and night, no constant stream of traffic, no screaming meat wagons, no buses (for shit sake,) no kids walking by, just the silence of the grass growing. you're prolly thinking, "damn, ain't this whore been in the city now for ten years? shouldn't she be used to living where she's at?" and my response to that is, "NO." i will never get used to having neighbors crammed up my ass and the circus people licking and petting me every time i leave my house. i'd love to have a quiet night of sleep so i didn't have to sleep all day to try and make up for what i lost.

keep an open mind

dear ratchet in my hatchet diary,

well. undeniably i could spiral up and find out why others are going down. i'm happy to say that i don't feel that way. i am comfortable with the knowledge i have and don't look for more everyday. because when i learn it hurts my head and causes me much pain, sometimes it just is not worth changing what you already know- for it could be wrong- the new stuff you're trying to put there and all. it is so hard to make sense of things when you cant understand, just like it used to me hard for me to wear any other brand of jeans other than true religions, but i've packed them away in a box downstairs, and i am ultra positive nobody cares. my point being- i love my jeans, but i am making myself wear other things.

my billy's

butter and cream make smashed potatoes scream

dear bang bang bang diary,

still burping up wedding punch from lunch i made earlier, i could drink another whole batch prolly but i'll get a cold headache on top of the pounder i already got from the unibomber stressing me out on the way home. my house had the 'thursday' night smell in it when i walked in again, and i cant figure that one out, at all, but it doesn't smell like there's been a damn dead body in here so hopefully nothing really sinister happened during my absence. i am making mashed potatoes now. i'll let you know how those make me feel.

chips ahoy

dear alot of times diary,,

some days i don't know if i am coming or going but today i had no trouble in figuring things out. pretty soon i might be going but i haven't decided yet. it is cold outside and i could wear my boots and i would hate to miss out on that, but at this time i am just so happy and really damned comfortable i just hate to fuck it all up. a trip out on the rocky water, i would mind setting sail, but i don't feel like rowing my boat if the winds don't come again. if i had a dime for every time i planned this same dumb trip, i'd be one wealthy well off retarded whore i'd be and sailing on a much bigger ship.

big, big, and bigger boys

dear get over yourself diary,

i really wish he would. the unibomber could piss on a parade that was being aired on television. complaining of how his shoulder is sore AND how his finger tips hurt, i dunno anymore. really. i think i shit three fearless boys from my vagina twat and have had incestuous relations with one for half my life. i sure ain't kissed him. i should get points for that. he is a grown child. i've made up my mind. i may not be behind him far in my own mentality, but at least i've decided long ago that paying the bills (i said bills) and living comfortably come before the necessities in life, like guitars and harley motorcycles, stereos and sewing machines, air compressors and welding machines, straps and caps, buckets and barrels, motorcycle patches and door latches, saddle bags and head rags. the beat could go on, i can assure you, but i'll stop there.

the bitch better make noodles

dear dammit hail diary,

waking up is never easy. realizing you have the responsibility of getting yourself out of the bed. i need to hire a bed helper to make this process easier. yes. when i get rich and live in a beautiful home on top of the mountain and my bedroom is big enough to fit more than two people and a dog into, ima hire a grandma to tuck me in at night and get me up every morning- just to make the transition easier. she will be so sweet and lovely too. she will kiss my forehead and make sure the drapes are pulled tight and the lights are down. and if i need assistance in picking my dreams for the night, grandma can read me a story about baby birds learning to fly. i'll have a padded piano bench right by my bed, one where she can read to me while i rest my head. it will remind me of when my own grandma would do the very same thing and hopefully give me the exact very sweet dreams.

stretching the kink out

dear morning time in bloggerville diary,

now when i get up i have forty one comments to moderate before i can post. if i didn't have it set up like that though, i'd fucking miss them. i would. it trips me out when people read and then comment on my old shit, really it trips me out when the old shit is even read- cuz that means they went diggin. but i suppose that is what it's there for- to dig in. i dig around in other peoples old shit when i go blog sailing- but usually they don't have the amount of garbage to sort through- like i do. ima try really hard to stay on topic today. yesterday, well, yesterday was so fun, but today ima try really hard (i said hard) to just have a normal day and think about things that a normal whore would obsess upon. my armpits, maybe a haircut, and i never did get that chicken salad sammich i wanted so badly- so i think i will try for one of those. good morning kids. i'll be up for a minute anyway.

never your mind over my body

dear the monster diary,

it is true that the monster is gone, but then why is that feeling still there? when i was a child though, i was scared to go down in our big basement. i was. it was the whole size of our house. scary. in reality i knew there was nothing down there to be scared of, but you couldn't tell me that, nobody could. i could prolly work myself up to get that feeling again, if i were to turn off all the lights at dad's house and stood at the top of the basement stairs long enough and thought about it. eventually i would invent a sound i'd heard, or a sudden breeze on my neck, and all my hairs would stand up- and there you go... that feeling- reincarnated. if i let you touch me on my arm and goosebumps appear, does that mean i'm falling in love? because i could run right over to my dad's and fly down into the basement and sleep on the floor all night on a cot in the dark too. i could, right now. tonight. i mean just because my pussy got wet doesn't mean i wanna spend the rest of my life fucking you. does it? ya think? 

they film the show in indiana

dear eating is fun diary,

fast pay checkout

dear always has to be me diary,

every time something goes wrong or the unibomber cant find something, well it is automatically my fault.  when he turns on that voice- man- its all over- i either go to bed or take a ride. i get ghostly. i shouldn't have to save the world and it ain't my day to look after your shit either. please. there is supposed to be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, so i suppose i'm be the one to find who is to find that as well. let me get my boots on, i'll start the journey tonight. there is a secret world that exists far from here and one day i will leave this place and move away to there. i will pack up my dogs, pack up my pajamas, and watch all the memories slowly die in my heart. it wont be at all difficult to add such a package to my cart.

unibomber world tour 2011

dear we have a guitar and an AMP diary,

i love the way things 'appear' at my house. cars, motorcycles, all sorts of big ticket items routinely just seem to show up because nobody ever asks me if they can spend their hard earned money on shit. what's worse, all these sorted actions usually occur when i'm out and away from the house. sometimes i come home and check the corner just to see if there is an unlicensed vehicle there. i really don't like surprises. but i knew he was getting the guitar. but ida liked to of had more time to adjust. not only that, i wouldn't have resisted a little help with the $214 powerbill, or the cellphone bill, the mortgage payment, the cable bill, the insurance, or the food that feeds his supermodel cravings or the paper to wipe his tiny tight asshole. and the fun begins. smoke on the water for the last 3 hours.

i am not paranoid; i know they're watching me

dear moles in the tree diary,

ima let this portion of my diary be brought to you by the coca~cola bottled beverage company, the kind folks who made my drink i am drinking right now. it's damn good and yummy and completely taking care of all my thirst needs and prolly the root cause of my impending kidney stone which is tiny and coming down the noodle. i don't drink alot of pot, or pop, that was a typo, but i decided to leave it, terming it a freudian typo. oh my goodness, the trigger, here we go, i miss pot. i want pot now. time for a virtual bong. i'll light it now. yes..... uh..huh... yes... oh yeah... and hold it...hold it... good shit man... oh yeah.. for sure.... and now ima exhaaallleeeeee. wow. here you go. i'm good thank you. no really. that's all i need. oh well if you insist... yes. uh.. huh... yes... oh fuck... holdin it...you're not right.. shit...dang..cough cough cough my ass off. what a great experience. i wouldn't mind taking that home. oh wait, i am home. how did that happen? i never left. i feel like i left. i must have had an out of body thing again because i was floating. were you floating? who else was floating in here? raisin your hand if you were JUST floating. see i knew i wasn't the only one. did you just see that? the FBI is here. they know i copied that cd last month. hide the Christmas wreath, they might ask about it too.

the new facebook

dear facebook is stale diary,

i always knew facebook sucked. i did. that is why i never went there even when i did go there. i don't like it because there are limits. i'm not big on limits- that's why i'm not addicted to twitter. i'll twit, send a random tweet, but twatting is more like graffiti to me. you say something (or spray something) and then you leave. blogger is growing every day. it's gunna be the new facespace. i'm staying right here. ima be happy where i cant get flagged, cant get bagged, and everyone knows my name. plus, i love to see my traffic sources and search words. the search words that bring people here make me foam from every orifice of my body. i've learned to sit on a towel and not eat when i check my stats, it can be painful if i'm enjoying a carbonated beverage.

she'll get you

dear you guys better watch it diary,

you really don't want the 'crayon' coming after you- do you? that cuntface witch will board her broom and come after you like she did me. she's the type of woman who raises her dog's food up off the floor so they can eat it without bending over, but wont let her husband go with her and her daughter to eat in public. she wants to blame everyone for her pitiful life- and she hangs the baskets in her own kitchen to collect the dust. blame the pussy- KILL THE WHORE- "nobody would ever fuck HER," the world according to karen, my friend, prepare to go to war. she will win a few battles. she will strut her stuff. she will walk proudly with her junior prize on her cuff. her wrist tattoo will have meaning- for a while longer anyway. but look for the bottom to fall out at any given day. ima laugh. ima laugh. and then ima laugh some more. and then if she needs some pointers, we'll gladly help her adjust to being a whore. SINCERELY. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. LEAVE MY PEOPLE ALONE.

eating on the floor...
can be good....
poor daisy..
poor shelby star..

you better you better you bet

dear pictures on my blog diary,

when i did the domain name change deal back in april or whenever it was, i lost ALL of my pictures on my blog and that was a pain in the ass to go through and try and fix and every once in awhile, like today for instance, i'll run into one i didn't fix, and boy oh boy was this a good one. the picture i fixed tonight was on my january 25th post named, "my city will hire a porn star," and the picture that goes with that post got me in a world of shit and i ain't even the one who took it. we've been hard on this topic today, (i said hard on) so let me rephrase, we have been steady on this topic today and that will only cause me to have unpleasant dreams tonight. i've already warned the unibomber that we will be taking a trip to meet roger. now i just gotta find out how to get lost... you stawk me- i getta stawk you. let me know if you guys find any more pics that need fixed, it only takes me a second to get those back up and running.

the circus in my hood

dear research lab diary,

finding that a random genetic mutation (a simple deletion of a small piece of chromosome 7) can change your whole plans of life forever. this syndrome that plagues my two little neighbors, who aren't so little anymore, is called WILLIAM'S syndrome and i ain't making this up. i just went outside to enjoy what very well could be one of the first quiet evenings since the stupid cicadas SHUT UP finally, and here they came to molest me. i just let them do it, with them having the genetic mutation and all, i figure it's okay if they touch me all over and pet me like a furry dog. those two always have looked at me like a movie star and i never could figure out why. then i watched 20/20 the other day and barbra laid it all out and it made perfect sense. WILLIAM'S syndrome. they're overly friendly, anxious, empathetic, and keyed up for a reason! and here this whole time- i thought they were just trying to be heroes.

william's kids link

that's all

dear if you look to hard diary,

the numbers. my numbers. the most perfect numbers under a hundred in the world. i'll spell it out for you AGAIN. starting: twenty three, thirty two, forty six and sixty four. let's pause for a moment, deep breath in, deep breath out, back in, back out, in, out, ready? i am.

23 is 32 reversed,

and half of 46.

32 is 23 reversed,

and half of 64.

now that you know the meaning to life, everything will prolly make more sense. i know i haven't been the same since i've fallen off the fence. when i learned how things all fit together and how things are to be and more importantly- how they are not to be.

for shits sake

dear slow down hookers diary,

you know how cute you guys are. i love my stawkers. roger has it all figured out, but the guy in the phonebook ain't him. but they said they get all kids of bitches calling there for him. his precious CUNTFACE should get smart and go by there and talk to those people and get the real low down on her husbands last ten years of fornicating behaviors. i am oh so positive that they would fill her in on the tireless calls they get at all hours of the day and night. i'm positive it was his idea to have a non-published number since they moved to the new house and he really started laying into the cheating hard, but he was even cheating in the tiny little house where they got married in the back yard. but all the neighbors hated them over there- in south shores- cept for winnie and ed, and that's cuz the hero like to give him head. but look whose to say bout how shit will go. i'm just a whore so what do i know.

back into my cage

dear one of those days diary,

i thought we were having a reasonable day, but turns out- we ain't. i cant even look at the unibomber today. we couldn't have the windows down in the car because the wind kept blowing his HAT off and all i could think about was his fucking harley in the garage and i cant ride in the fucking car with my WINDOW DOWN? well allrighty then. i mean, FUCK YOU, that's what i mean. then, if that ain't enough, he cant remember his way to a mailbox. lived here his WHOLE LIFE and cant remember where a free standing mailbox is in this town. fuck lunch. i lost my appetite. suddenly i felt full or rage.

bald spots of ant puke

dear puking hungry diary,

ever been so hungry you could die? i am right now. i know i ain't gunna die, but feel like ima gunna hurl. oh wow. i think i just remembered part of my dream as i typed 'hurl.' i hate when that happens. i sure did get a flashback, but i wont bore you guys with that shit- it was nasty. i have the cutest new baby grass growing in my front yard. i had a few tiny bald spots and so i got some seed and planted it and they all filled in. i killed the little spots with fertilizer because i am a dumbass. who knew. prolly everyone but me. but i know now. i don't like fertilizer in little pellet form. i use liquid now. it just works better. i gave my pellet fertilizer shit to my dad because he knows how to use it. i spray my trees for ants and everything. i spray my yard for ants and i still have ants. ima cut the trees down. i know the ants live in my cedar trees cuz i caught them living there last year. i was pissed off. i'm still mad. ima eat. ima have to. ima puke.

layin on the ritz

dear the news is out diary,

all over town. that you've been seen- out fuckin' around. it don't surprise me none, i had my turn. what does surprise me though, is she wants more. and she has the gall- to call me the whore. good thing i like wearing the title- i never got to be one before. finally i get to be something for the first time in my life, and i'd much rather be a whore that a big fat hero's wife. almost twenty thousand stawkers and a few new friends and my journey has just started really- and i don't look for it to end soon. everyday is an adventure in my mind and recalling my past, helping me figure out the reasons why the lost ones didn't make it to my future- realizing why they never mattered. what it takes to get to the place in your heart that makes you laugh- that is what i am always searching for, the best material. i really don't care if you eat crackers in my bed because the crumbs don't bother me at all. i'm just sayin.

oh roger.... LMAO

dear roger again diary,

now roger, are you sure we are not related? we really need to stop meeting like this. roger, roger, roger. what a busy man you are. and they say pot smokers aren't that smart and cant follow the ball. you certainly did. oh wow. you never disappoint me. what gave it away anyway? you do have to spill. i can not stop smiling this morning. i am walking on air. you did some amazing homework roger. i am delighted at your efforts. please do tell me how you did that.... so i can do better at whatever it was that peaked your interest to go read the newspapers for the love of God.

st. mary's psychos

dear do like i told you diary,

sometimes i wonder when i will run out of shit to say. i think it is bound to happen someday- but it prolly never will. like last night on the news they interviewed some st. mary's lady at the colorado place. i almost shit all over myself and thought, "oh joy oh boy, cant wait to blog about that," and here i am at 5:41 in the morning blabbin my ass off. look at me go. i bet all the stawker psychos are watching the morning news hoping to see the clip. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. i hate to laugh out loud again, but i really am. i cant help but wonder how that sex life is. oops, i already know. rollin rollin rollin. damn i have the hiccups again. somebody needs to remind me to pay the garbage today. ima get shut off by july 7th. i forgot to pay it last month. i'm just so busy recycling i really don't need garbage service anymore.

ain't nothing like KAREN. but i still ain't SHARON

dear intolerance to my own eyelids diary,

and so... i tried to sleep and got up again to water my plants. look who had something to say about that, and it is okay to laugh out loud as i did, he looked stupid(er) in person... so now my plants are all wet and ready

for more sun i suppose and me, well, i am wet too. and that's cool. i haven't been wet going to bed in a while- so it is kind of sort of a treat- in a way- really- if you think about it- like a pervert would. my hair is awful fluffy to think like a pervert, especially when the unibomber just flashed his dick in my face. i knew there was something in the air tonight- either that or he saw me wet already and just wanted to be sure and mark what he feels could be his territory. now he has his shoes on. maybe he's gunna play the hero and meet some lucky whore at the corner. i best be watching my purse then- i don't want to foot the BILL like cuntface. that ain't gunna WORKMAN. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE.

mourning for lunch

dear nighty night diary,

it may technically be mourning time for some, but i am not saddened by anything. i am going to the bed where i am going to prolly be sound asleep by the time this gets published. picture the whore (me) drooling (instead of driveling) in my bad ass bed- dreaming about something good. i hope everyone has a great ass day planned out because i know i sure do. alls i have to do is pay the garbage and water and i am good to go. i think i want a chicken salad sammich from panera bread for lunch- but i ain't sure yet. i'll have to see where i go.

spit seller

dear high bidder diary,

i cant help it that i sometimes drool when i sleep. i know from reading the new england journal of medicine that drooling is a perfectly normal behavior and prolly the reason i have good teeth, because i have quality spit. when the body produces an ample amount of quality spit, it helps keeps your teeth lubricated and clean and naturally rinsed off so you ain't gotta brush as much. that's what i think. it prolly fucks with the pH balance of your mouth spit to brush all the time when you have perfect spit like me. i should get a little cheek bag and try to save my drool and sell my spit on ebay.

layers of strong fat fingers

dear waiting for more trash diary,

the most riveting thing was when i stubbed my toe and split my toenail down the middle. even though it didn't bleed it sure felt like it did. kicking the curb in a literal sense may not be smart, but it will make your foot understand that you want it to pay attention. you pretty much know how that'll turn out. so i don't wear flip flops much anymore. plus, there's the issue of having shit stuck up between my toes. something else i've decided, keeping a bunch of trash in your car actually protects your car and keeps it cleaner in the long run. check this out, my friend had mud on her shoe tonight, and if i had not had a layer of trash on the floor of my car- that shit sure would have been on my floor mat. i am gunna clean out my car maybe though someday again prolly. i might. or i might not. what happens after you figure out who is not kidding? what do you do then? i don't think my teeth are big. but i think my ankles are skinny. and i think if my wrists were fatter i would have stronger fingers. if the air was any thicker then maybe your shit wouldn't linger. huh.

overexposed

dear apple banana salad diary,

i need a camera- someone needs to document this. praise it and let me see- an apple salad with bananas. i wonder if there is a grape in here. prolly not, cuz i want there to be. i'm looking forward to my bed tonight. i missed my prime naptime today. i stayed awake all day long to try and get my days and nights switched back around. i wish there was a tiny bit of snow on the ground. for the next few days it is supposed to be cooler, but still there will be no snow on the ruler. fewer people will agonize over the heat, cooler days will slow the growth of the wheat. the corn will be sitting on my table and i will eat it as soon as i am able and i have fresh butter in there waiting and all this time without the cob i am hating. my neighbor is so awesome she brought this apple and banana salad over, but the shit is missing grapes and that is a damn shame.

sour cream on that

dear i saw him diary,

what an eventful evening topped off by the yummiest of fajitas made my whores truly. i can make some fajitas now and i am not even kidding. but then who cant. any retard can make fajitas and i found out the hard way. i betcha i've spent a small fortune on the fuckers and the whole time i've had the skill to knock the best fajitas out my damn self. if you have a good onion and some damn good steak, there ain't no way you can fuck it up. punch me in the head every time i want to go there. you have my permission. AND if punching doesn't get my attention, try kicking me in the forehead. i cant go there ever again because i don't want to.

solstice hats

dear aimee diary,

it is aimee's birthday today. i ain't gettin no cake. she went to kentucky fried chicken and i ate green beans with casey. casey needs her ears pinned back. she looks like an elf. i dunno why i watch this shit- like everyone else on the planet- but the judge cracks me up. i think he's hot. he looks disabled- retarded in a way. happy birthday aimee. she'll be in a bad mood i'll just betcha. something will have pissed her off today. i'm looking forward to that. ever have a friend who is just mad all the time? it doesn't bother me because i live with the unibomber. he is unstable, although today he has been entertaining himself in quite the most loveliest of ways. he is wearing his shirt he made for himself, and clearly pleased at the way it fits. he's been watching his THOUSAND DOLLAR GUITAR on ebay and swears if it goes over he wont bid any higher, and he is now also hooked on the casey trial, offering up his SMART ASS COMMENTS during every commercial. happy birthday aimee. i hope she's in a good mood. i'll take tylenol and put on my hard hat just in case. i cant take any chances. i have a hat for everything. i love hats.

puff-puff-pass that car

dear addition to the day diary,

if you told me last week how things would be this week, ida believed you. they arent much different and i kindof like that because i'm not a big fan of change. i mean i collect all my dimes and nickles and pennies, but the unibomber keeps track of the quarters because they are no use to me because i spend them, since i no longer smoke them. i used to like a quarter the best because it was okay to smoke up one of those with your buds, it was just the right amount. gawd doggit. what i would give right now for a fat quarter of some sweet bud. maybe i'll run into someone and they'll let me see theirs. i think i will take a ride and head for the other slide and swing it all away.

i ain't even tired

dear baking soda and listerine diary,

my first stop after that glorious bath was the kitchen sink because that is where i brush my teeth. first i got the baking soda and dumped some in the palm of my left hand and swabbed some over my gums with my right index finger to warn all the nasty scum in there that the life they knew was coming to an end. really it was to try and unglue all my teeth from my gums to prepare them for a vigorous cleaning. then i rinsed my mouth out with water and then i rinsed with the nasty listerine, a FINAL threat to evacuate before i come in with the big dogs. some people can just finish here, i cannot, i must either not come here at all or continue forward. i spit that nasty shit out and loaded my brush after a good soaking in the hottest water spraying from my faucet. let me add, the water that shoots out is so hot- you cant touch it. i pasted up and started my job, but i really didn't get down to the business- i gave my chompers all a quick scrub and my tongue a fat rub and turned off my brush and let it rinse under that hot water again and spit that shit out and rinsed my mouth out and started all over AGAIN. then i pretended i'd just arrived at the sink and prepared my toothbrush freshly for the very first time. i put it back in my mouth and scrubbed my teeth and gums and tongue and roof and now i feel so fine. i used my yummy mouthwash when i was done and i feel like a brand new person. i didn't take a nap today. so that's really somethin. 

the scope and strikes

dear stanky body diary,

my body is foul. if i had balls, i'd have foul balls. i am ashamed. if i died and the medical examiner had to do me, i would pity him, or her, for having to do me- especially without a nose plug. i would. ima put on extra whore juice when i get out of the bath to make up for my stinky time. i still ain't brushed my teeth and i still haven't had a kiss. oh don't anybody worry, i haven't had a kiss since a year before i started my blog, but i have brushed my teeth quite a few times. i do get to kiss my dogs though- on the lips- and occasionally get a tongue- so if you count that, then i have had a bunch of kisses. i've just not been the explorer. my mouth is so nasty right now- i almost cant stand it, but ima march on. here it is, nineteen til three and i smell like i did yesterday at the same time times forty one. ewww. i gotta go. before i start attracting buzzard birds and wild animals.

what medicare doesn't pay

dear seeing isn't believing diary,

i cant believe how hot it is outside. i went outside to get the mail and came right back inside sweating. burning down the house mailbox. unfortunate timing, the heating degree days. i wish i could live where it is 69 all the time. wake me up before we go go. i only have eyes for people i see. you know what i think about people i cant see? they aren't there, usually, but some really are. i can see the faces of the invisible spirits. well, hearing them is how i really see them, or feeling them at times, but when they invade my presence- there is nothing of the kind. the transfer of information from a warm world to a cool world can be difficult to get through, until you find the right porthole or a messenger who can speak for you. sometimes the dye wont stay in the fabric, no matter how dark you think it is, it just wont stick and it always fades- no matter what you do. you should always go when you have the chance and you should always keep your ears open wide. fuck your eyes really, if things don't want to be seen- they can always hide.

aching twat hairs

dear stinking fish in the room diary,

my hair sometimes hurts as it grows out of my head. it sure does. it is now. i often rub my scalp in an effort to help it feel better up there, but it doesn't help, nothing does. sometimes i get an ice pack and put up there, but nothing works. it's just so sore and achy feeling at my crown. i think it's my hair growing. i am just really glad my leg hairs don't ache when they grow- or my one chin hair or, omg, my twat hair. wouldn't that suck to have an aching triangle every time i get done shaving? i like to shave my twat. it really keeps it so much cooler down there. not only does it look much more appealing, i think, it weathers storms better, and handles humidity better, and just has an overall better attitude towards the environment in general. it gets along better with everyone. i shaved my elbows the other day, i sure did. damn they look nice. i didn't know i had strings of hair hanging off them till i felt them blowing in the wind hanging out the window the other day. i ought to be good now for another twenty years or so. i suppose i'll TRY for the bed again. it cant hurt now that the sun is about up and it is the noisy day of the week. FUCK MY ASS.

key word...
...fuck my ass

lumpy gravy can be good

dear did it anyway diary,

i said i wasn't gunna do it, but look at me go. i slept all day and here i am, up all night. i like staying up all night though. i have the world all to myself. then while all the working people scurry off to do their jobs, i sleep in peace and safety. it is a win win situation. we all can live together in this same tiny fucking town. cuntface can keep her tiny dick man and everything. i wouldn't be seen with him in public, but that's on her. why am i not tired? i know one thing, i am not going to mcdonalds. i don't give a fuck. i'll go somewhere else before i go there because i don't feel like having heartburn all fucking day long. i could eat some eggs right now. but i could eat eggs anytime. i love eggs. add gravy to eggs and oh shit- oh my shit- oh wow shit- mmm. i love gravy, almost as much as eggs- maybe more. you can do so much with gravy and it is so filling. i feel for people who don't understand the concept of gravy. gravy is old school, yes, and it is the essential comfort food, even when you ain't uncomfortable. but gravy is the kind of staple that holds it all together. don't give up on life until they pass you the gravy boat and the fucker is bone dry. then just give up. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. i already know she cant make the gravy.

pimping time

dear serious allergic reaction diary,

please if you have any ideas, let me know, but i'm looking for an internet bride or daycare for the unibomber. i've developed a severe and sudden allergic reaction and he needs a good home or a daytime activity center, whatever is best for you. i would be willing to take him and drop him off and pick him up and i would even provide lunch for you both. i will never let him leave the house smelling foul (like he smells here) and would really appreciate it if you make him kiss you all the time (just to hear his complaints when he comes home.) he is an excellent lover and will fuck you until you get bored to death and will be begging him to finish. you'll be watching the clock wondering what is wrong with your pussy to make a mother fucker take so long. then the next guy cums in six seconds and you know your shit is super cherry (just like it always was) and this bitch is bored and needs some strange. send him on home when you're finished though and don't fall in love. he's a fucking dickhead.

a workman like job

dear what's happening homeboy diary,

sleeping all day, i haven't been awake for prolly three hours total. i wont be up all night neither. i wont. i am invested in my sleep. i was behind and had to recop. i had to catch up. it was time to hammer down on my craft. i'll work on cleaning up my body later on. it really ain't that nasty yet anyway- it's mostly my teeth. remember them little pink tablets they used to give you at school that we'd all chew up and it would show where the dirty spots still were after you'd brushed your teeth? thank goodness i ain't got a box full of them suckers. i liked the way those tasted. everyone used to give me theirs. i used to eat them cuz they tasted good. i didn't give two fucks what they said about my teeth. i just liked them. my kids have the baddest ass teeth. every time i take them to the dentist, the dentist will RAVE at how beautiful my babies teeth are. last time i told the dentist to tell me which spawn took better care of his teeth to settle a bet- and he said WILLIAM did- but not by much because they were both PERFECT- so i gave them both a cash reward and a new electric toothbrush for Christmas.

parking fees

dear relocating the snake diary,

moving my pet snake was the best decision i could make for everyone. the bitch ain't been out since though, maybe she is pissed off. i dunno. don't care. my head itches. i'll prolly break down and brush my teeth today, but maybe not. who cares. ima make myself a pop or some juice, prolly juice would be better, considering the time. i don't know what's up. i never claimed to. i just only realized what it was like to be like when i wasn't up- high even. i do miss being high. so much. when i want to get high now, i have to climb. which i think is entirely more dangerous than smoking pot, but then nobody ever asks me. and that's fine. i used to go to the parking garage, but i cant go there now. funky bitches. in the older days then the ones i just spoke about, i drove my fucking car into that same parking garage, but that was a long time ago. i am the one who ALWAYS drives to the top of the parking garage to park, unless i ain't there to park. like when the hero and i would go park in the adm parking garage. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE.

keep your lips away from me

dear bad taste in my mouth diary,

my mouth tastes like whoreshit- whatever that tastes like. i haven't brushed my teeth yet and my thinking is that is the cause, but i don't care really, it ain't like someone is gunna fly up behind me and steal a long passionate stomach dropping- life altering- evening changing- butterfly stirring- vagina gushing KISS. i'll brush the bitches wednesday or thursday maybe. see how they smell then. i swear to God right now, if someone kissed me i would prolly pass out. i don't even want to kiss. kissing sucks. kissing is nasty. kissing is stupid. i hate kissing. only gay people kiss. so. i am glad i don't do that. anymore. never have really. i'm not a kisser. i cant even kiss. i don't even like the thought of plump wet lips pressed against my mouth and my tongue free to wildly explore the inside of another mouth. sick, that is. nasty. why would anyone want to bite at or pull at that bottom lip either and suck on that fucker. i may never brush my teeth again just to make damn sure that never happens to me ever. fuck that. ima go eat an onion.

i caint find my water gun!

dear creamed corn will do fine diary,

you can fuck someone up with some canned creamed corn. i'm not scared. i'll use whatever i can grab. does that make me a dirty fighter? ima biter and a scratcher too. suhnap. i grew up with an asshole brother and i learned the tricks of the trade pretty fast. i pushed the unibomber through a window once and into a mirror. he was also taking a drink from a long neck bottle of beer a different time and i gave that bottle a good old push and i dunno how far it got down his throat, but he wasn't happy. at all. fuck him. i'd prolly do it again, shit i think i went to jail for that evening of fun, but i got my bond back. he dropped charges. i think he came and got me out of jail even- but i prolly had to work for that shit- if you know what i mean. if you don't, well you are prolly better off. yup, true love, it was, back then, in the late 80's. neither one of us was twenty one but we could both get served in bars and now i still get carded for cigarettes. what is wrong with that picture? i only liked to drink until i turned twenty one and now it's no fun. betcha it'd be the same way with pot. hope i live to find out. i will. green beans work too you guys, but creamed corn is better on the count it is a more solid packed can. you don't need a gun, fuck that shit is dumb, get you some corn and do what needs to be done. then you've also supplied dinner to help the healing process begin.  

i use weapons

dear calling me in diary,

i am a brave bitch. honestly, i am. but there are two things that now scare me, shadows and heroes and heroes that make shadows. as much as it may surprise you to know that shadows frighten me, i am sure it comes as no big SHOCK that a hero would freak me out. that's why i wont spend much time explaining the nature of my fears there in this post. there are about 1500 other previous posts you can refer to for that information. shadows on the other hand scare the fucking whoreshit out of me because, for one, it is hard to tell sometimes where they've originated from. shadows can be tricky. shadows also have no smell, obviously, and their actual size is distorted, so is the shadow maker big or small, short or tall, you never know until it shadows over you and by then- it's way beyond the time to tell. if it were ever to come to the point where i would need a hero to remove a shadow, i believe i would learn to live in the shadows because it is safer to befriend the fears then sell your soul for protection from something that wont hurt you anyway.

i got money for my bail

dear changing the way i operate diary,

i am pleased to announce my new way of life. over the next few weeks you will begin to notice a subtle change. i intend to become cruel AND unusual. i know i have always been a bit unusual, but let us add cruel to the mix and see what we'll come up with. it'll be more than sour kool-aid, i can promise you that. i should have done this a long time ago, but i was to busy being a hoe. but i've turned the page now, gone over every single detail, i know exactly what to do, and this is no time to be frail. it's time to sharpen my swords and do the same to my nails, get in my boat and set my sails.

ima be a rock star

dear finding it odd diary,

don't you guys find it funny how i posted about a pearl necklace the other day and now my body may want to start trying to produce other precious stones? i do- even if nobody else does. i wish i could produce diamonds, or ruby's maybe. if my chin hairs were golden, man i'd really have it goin on. then some black onyx eye snot and emerald nose boogers, oh my goodness, what would my ear wax be? everyone would want a chunk of me- even the growdy parts. since ima whore, i would be fair. i would pass my black onyx eye snot out to anyone who cared. take it with you when you go, pack it in your bag and off to the rock show. 

front door blues

dear door diary,

i hate my front door and i want a new one. i've hated my front door since i moved in here. everyone else gets to have a new front door, SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE, but i don't. there was nothing wrong with her old front door either. then she had them come back out because she wasn't happy with it- but i cant remember why- it didn't shut right or something. oh i dunno, fuck it's been awhile. i know i want a new front door bad. mine is buttass ugly. but it ain't high on my list. nothing is high on my list. fuck it i don't have a list. i got a court order though. by golly. and new locks on all my doors. i had to. i never got my key back from the hero. or my atm card. so i got new atm cards too, and pin numbers. cock sucker if my key didn't fit the front door and the back door. i'm certain he didn't have a key to my dad's house, cuz i only had one of those and i got it back. ida been struck. i might be getting a kidney stone. i dunno yet. i am pretty excited about that. i called my urologist this morning and ima do a ct scan at the hospital later on and see what's up in there. it'll be fun to write on some heavy pain medication. i bet my door wont even bother me at all then and my spelling may improve.

my front door is here
mudder fuckers
(i added the pic for the ass fucker)

i'll take the blame

dear oil and water diary,

i wish someone could explain and then re-explain why my boys are so different from each other and then explain how this happened when they came from the same twat and were raised together and ate the same food and wore the same clothes and played in the same mudholes. prince william is so down to earth and prince harry is so high in the sky. william understands what goes on around him and harry lives in 'la-la land.' yes, it is true, harry is far more artistic and creative, and colorful, but william is just as trendy and has style- he is just quieter about it. william likes jeans and shoes and harry likes shirts and hats. one likes thug music and one likes lady gaga. i'll let you figure out which. when they were growing up- at times it was difficult, their personalities would often clash, but now that they are both young men they have made a dramatic switch. they have made a bond like i have never seen and it warms me deep in my heart. for i know they will always be forever brothers in this life and i have done my part. i love my boys for who they each are- as different as they may be. but i wouldn't mind knowing how it all happened. cuz it couldn't have had anything to do with me.

stilts in bed

dear legs towards me diary,

my becky had her four feet pointed towards me ever since we were up in the middle of the night, i dunno why either, when we got back in bed- she just wanted to smooth her ears back and look at me. i like her when she has that slick head look- she looks prehistoric- but the leg and paw deal i could have lived without. i kept folding them front fuckers up, but she liked them bone straight. finally i moved to the wall. i couldn't take being poked repeatedly any longer. if she didn't look so damn sweet with her slicked back head, every time i looked at her, i prolly coulda done something else, but when those ears are plastered back and her eyes shut and them lashes fanned out- oh man forget it. i gush.

i'd smoke a carrot prolly

dear lady and the tramp diary,

that is the book i tried to get at the library of my dream. strange, i think, to pick a title like that, yet so damn fitting. i don't think i could have picked a better book had i been awake. the lady and the tramp. if i wrote a book like that, i would name it, 'the whore and the cuntface.' it would be a novel though and a novelty and available only in softback and no more than an inch thick- no more. i am really craving that big salad i have waiting for me in the fridge. i like to eat leafy greens for breakfast now that i no longer smoke them.

ima trueblood fan

dear i'll betcha diary,

whenever a series begins on hbo they put up billboards and bus signs and all kinds of advertisements and decorate the city with them in LA and its simply a spectacular sight. they get so creative with the damn things too. i was out there when trueblood was first coming out four years ago and they had fangs and thangs on every street corner, trash can, bus bench, side of a bus, hollywood bright light sign, you name it- trueblood was splashed everywhere. hell, i didnt even know what trueblood was. i knew it was gunna be big though. i'll betcha it's plastered on every square inch out there again right now. i'll betcha it looks like fucking halloween like it did last time. but at least this time everybody wont be as caught off guard when they wake up and see pictures of bill everywhere. he is cute as fuck, but i heard he's an asshole- like most all bills are. betcha he has a tiny dick too. what do you wanna bet? man i sure would love to plaster our city with some colorful artwork. man would i ever. i could even get as creative as the best of them. i could. fucking court orders suck man. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE!

having a strap on does help

dear while i am at the bat diary,

i thought i would swing at the ball. that was for all you sportsfans out there. i'm a sportsfan. but i like whatever you like because i dont give a fuck really. as long as we getta eat while we are there and it doesn't suck that bad- fuckit i'll go. i know one guys name for the cardnials, berkman. i hate him, but only cuz of his name or whatever. i did hear he could play okay. he has a sucky name. i kinda feel bad for him. i know one team i never do care for- the cubs. i like the city of chicago, i consider it a mini LA, but i like the color red better than blue and st. louis has a much higher murder rate- which surprised me when i heard that shit. i'd rather walk down under the bridges in st. louis (and have) than in chicago (and have) so i dunno. i mean i lived after doing it in both places, but felt much safer in st. louis. but i had a strap on in st. louis.

turning back those creepy little hands

dear back timing my post diary,

i missed my feeding time, but feeling like i'm safe, ima go ahead and post it at my usual time- thinking prolly the only one up will be this mystery fucker who marks that box. i just woke up from a three hour nap. the unibomber watched tv the whole time and i was disturbed. so when he finally shut it off, i got up. how do you like them scrambled eggs? i cant help it, i am up and awake now and the dogs are scrappin- at 3AM or close enough to it. i've already had a very interesting dream however, i was licking a tasty butthole while spinning in brilliant circles and swimming in the most beautiful grass peeking down beneath at a secret world existing below the grass that only us swimmers could see. and the grass "pool" has right by my dad's house- in the neighbor's yard on the corner and the whole time i swam in the grass down there, i could look up and see the house where i grew up and it gave me such comfort. then i woke up at 2:41. i shit you not. that is what the clock said. and here we all are again. back at 19 till.

leavin the lights off

dear sleeping inn diary,

ima pretend to live in a hotel tomorrow. i might even let the dogs just shit in the basement, but i don't think they will. the grump will send becky in to start that whining BULLSHIT and fuck i'll have to get up, but i can go right back to sleep. it ain't like they are puppies and i gotta stay up and play with them. i hate puppies. i hate playing when i would rather sleep. i do. i hate that. fucking entertain yourself. hello. and QUIETLY. i got my dogs trained. these bitches sleep 18 hours a day. sometimes i hurry up and get in bed just so they don't sleep more than me. fuck that. i don't want to be awake while they are sleeping. that is a waste of quiet time. when i see one of them slowing down- i'm on it. i got the grump to where when he sees me shut my laptop- he'll run to the bed. that's training a dog right there. like i said, i train my animals. fuck all that sit and roll over shit- we do the, "get in the bed."

shit slides down the wall

dear comic stripper diary,

while i am still dressed, i ain't dressed up. i didn't feel like dressing up today. in fact, i never even left my pajamas. that was nice too, not leaving my pajamas, even though i left. that's right. i left in my pajamas. when i leave in my pajamas i come home faster. plus i didn't want to leave anyways, but beins it it a safe day, beins it was a short trip to the video store to return the stupid boxing atari360 game (which was dumb as fuck) and william MADE ME GO, so then beins we got gas and just came home- i went. in my pajamas. earlier today. but i am home now, yet still in my pajamas. now it's almost time for bed again and i wont put on jeans, but this might be my last posting on the one nine after for a bit. i'm moving back to the one nine till again.

snack time

dear all of a sudden diary,

i feel like a chocolate chip cookie. oh fuck yes. and cold milk. my my my. just like that. but ima ignore that. sometimes i like cookies in bed. it makes me feel young. i take one sock off and cover up and eat cookies and milk and wiggle my sockless foot out from under the blanket and have my treat while staring down at my feet, the one under the blanket and the naked one that is showing. it might sound weird to some people, but  to anyone who likes to look at feet like i do- they'll understand. you can tell a lot about a person by how they care for their feet. i keep my feet in top shape because, well, i dunno why. i figure maybe i'll get a customer who is a toe sucker again and i'll be ready.

i might be?

nearly retarded diary,

we are gathered here today

to get through this thing here called...

my next blog post.

i'm here to say today,

it's a mighty retarded blog post (just like you)

and there's nothing else...

like it in the cyber world. (just like you)

being retarded is a mighty big deal,

being a whore is too,

unionizing those two things

has united me here with you.

so if you call up the sheriff in your local town,

to file a complaint against me someday,

remember...

i play by the rules,

i may take pictures of your jewels,

and if i've sucked it....

i can pick it out of an ad on craig's list.

you asked for it



the green scream

dear dry mouth diary,

now my mouth is dry as sand hail. i need a drink. i prolly should get up off my big dumb ass and get one since nobody here in my eighty five million dollar mansion will wait on me. becky is chest up to the ceiling sound asleep, looking very sexy i might add, but she looks sexy no matter how she lays, sits, or stands. the bitch. i often find myself jealous of her, just because her ass is so firm and her skin reflects the light better and she gets more attention from the younger men when we go out together, oh and she struts when she walks- that used to really bother me, but i realize now- that is just how she walks. she does it when she doesn't know anyone is watching her- so it ain't a show. that's just her walk. since she lets me touch her anywhere i want, i don't get really upset when other people pet her- she doesn't let them touch her like i can- she sets her boundaries. she has no boundaries with me. that's what i like most about her- how she isn't afraid of me- even though she prolly does know i am jealous because you know all women can tell when other bitches are green around the edges- even when it ain't for show. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE.

careful what you shit for

dear shakes alive diary,

i just woke up and i am so happy. i slept like a fucking norwegian ice princess. i dunno if they even make those kind of princesses, but in my world they do and i slept like the sweetest one ever. then i woke up happy. what a great way to wake up. now i wish more than anything i could take a big shit. but i think i have waited way too long. ima have to have surgery to get this turd out and that shit ain't funny. book the OR now because i am about ready to fucking die. and when this posts and i come back- you better NOT have marked the 'fuck my ass' box either. mother fucker.

i just love this picture

clap your hands

dear snap your slingshot diary,

police say it's not good to allow stalkers to follow you around and know your day to day routines. bahhhaha. i'll work on that man. i'll try to get out more and shake things up. maybe start hanging out at the bars-  like everyone else. i hate the bar though. i ain't been in a bar since i cant even tell you when. i can tell you i wasn't there very long and prolly ate while i was there- cuz i know i didn't drink. i ain't a 'drinker.' when they set up them hookah bars though- i prolly wont ever be home- but i might be- i don't like sucking on things everyone else sucks on. for real. i want my own.

where pandas live

dear itching booty diary,

i got three itchy bites on my passenger side buttcheek and it wasn't even out OR exposed so that was odd. i dunno. i been scratching at them, digging at them, and finally i looked down the back of my pants because i can do that beins my ass is pretty flat back there and alls i gotta go is turn around pretty much and look, but i looked and that's what i saw- three swelled up bites on my ass cheek. so whatever. it is so humid. it's dumb. drippy wet. i hate to sweat. but i will iffin its worth it. fuck my ass.

get a saxophone too

dear rolling off my lip and finger tip diary,

here is a post that has been coming for a while now and it's fucked up that it's coming out on six one nine, but here it is. someone i know, who is not young, and remaining nameless (for the time being,) has decided to take on a new skill. i would like to share this with you guys, now that i have had time to swallow the information, and process it, and somewhat even accept it, and now i will predict what will happen- not because i can read into the future- but because i ALREADY KNOW the future- or how this future will turn out anyway. ok, let's forget i said all that and start all over. ready? ok. if you had no idea how to play a guitar, would you spend a thousand dollars on one? that's what i'm sayin. so that's why i am so pissed off. because he cant even read music and it ain't like i can sit there and read it to him. and then i'm "the bitch" because i don't support him wanting to learn something new. "join a band," i said, "get a thousand dollar guitar," i said, "learn how to play it,' i said, "you already have the hair dude." 

other stuff to do

dear frogger on the atari360 diary,

i love frogger. i cant remember what dreamstation the kids had that was frogger friendly. but once upon a time they had one and when they went to bed- the unibomber and i got that sucker burning hot every night playing on the frogger. i see myself on the floor in front of the couch on william street- so that was prolly in 98 or 99 into the early 2000's even on out at the farm i think that outrageous behavior continued. it was a serious addiction- being all up in the clouds and shit- frogger ain't what it used to be- the music now-a-days will fucking hypnotize you and you will be in a trance for weeks- years even. i just asked the unibomber and he thinks that game was for the playstation atari. shit, i'd be just as happy with a couple of quarters and an hour with a donkey kong machine.

fondle me fondly

dear naptime in the whore's bed diary, 

crawling ever so slowly back to where i came, i will eventually feel the sheets under my body again and the sound of my blanket ripping again. it is so stupid how i refuse to acquire a new cover and throw the old one away, but i've had my favorite one so long now- i can use it another day. it's perfectly fine when it's here in my home, but when i take it outside it cant stand alone. i could never claim it if it was left behind, i don't think i could admit to a stranger it was mine. fuck all that- oh hell yes i could- i love that blanket and in a minute i would.



perfect condition.
not for sale



next semester Lester

dear every post diary,

i cunt hailp but notice on every post, except one, someone has marked "fuck my ass" again. that makes me happy in some demented weigh. i dunno why, butt it does. and i could never host a cooking blog because i eat out entirely too much to do something like that. here is everything i know in a cigarette butt. my secret to a perfect rump roast for instance- burn the bitch on every side before you roast it in the oven and always un-net a pork roast before putting one in a crock pot and when using the crockpot for beef roasts- use canned beef broth instead of water. add a little sugar to everything you add salt to- and if you need a gravy lesson- let me know. fuck my ass though. who knew that would be the most popular box. i couldn't decide between 'fuck my ass' and 'fuck my face' and now i am so happy i chose 'fuck my ass.' and if i may further add, the pie i made and was so damn proud of FUCKED DONKEY ASS, it was nasty, but my poor dad ate it. however, the scalloped corn was phenomenal and the steaks beyond belief so the pie can just FUCK MY ASS.

zebras meet all over the yard

dear i ain't never diary,

it is a good thing i woke up early and checked, dammit i hate malfunctions. whew, we are on the target now. ima go back to bed though, and rest my head again because i didn't want to even get up. i dunno why my post didn't grab the picture, unless i deleted it on the way back out- who knows- but the bitch is there now and that's all that really matters to me and it ain't like cuntface wont do her devotions later. well. until we meat (yes meat) again. ilya ahahhah.

better picture than you'll ever take CUNTFACE

dear above the fireplace we never had diary,

seeing my children so small on your lap makes me want to kill a series of flies who've been pestering me on a hot sultry day. maybe one by one in candle wax. yes. put each fly into candle wax with a toothpick and then watch the wax get hard as i remove it from the heat. maybe the fly would even still be alive inside the wax there- for a few more agonizing moments. maybe to remember all the other people it pestered before it finally pestered me. i would make you stand on your head every time you even thought about fucking me and you would still never touch me again. i would let a thousand men pleasure me in your presence before i would ever let you taste my skin. but is that not what you want? you are such the visual man. "just tell me that you love me while my dick is in your hand," you said. having much higher standards is what i have come to know, and i don't involve my children in the whore business anymore. i was a fool (and you know i was) and now your wife knows and everyone else, but you look in the eyes of my fucking babies right here- then line up and tell me how FUCKING WRONG I WAS.

i hate my five alarm alarm

dear when i get up again diary,

well i have to get up early for the second day in a row. it almost killed me to death to get up by two minutes after eleven yesterday, but that is what time i had my alarm set. i went pee and got right in the tub- but i didn't pee right in the tub, so make sure you read that right, cuz that's where i scrub the mess out of my hair and body- in the tub. so i don't pee there wouldn't unless it's an emergency or an accident, which i haven't had yet, but i ain't sayin i wont ever. i noticed the hair on my legs starting to sparkle as it was growing in, but i paid it no attention- the clock was ticking you know- no time for that shit. i'll prolly do that bullshit later today- iffin i feel like it. if not- oh well. i keep trying to call myself grandma to get used to it, i even told william i was going to "pop him in the head like i was going to his baby," and OMFG you should have seen his face, it brought tears to my eyes, i promised  not to ever, "pop the little fucker ANY harder than i popped him," so he said that was fine. ahahhahha. i was crying harder after that. all he talks about is how the pregnancy makes him, "fat," and have, "funny dreams," and i swear i've heard the word 'pregnancy' three thousand eight hundred times since he rolled in the door friday. sometimes i wonder which one of them is pregnant... him or her. just so it ain't fucking me.

eyes on plate

dear peach pie diary,

my daddy will be ever so pleased with my efforts, i hope, and if he likes it i will take a picture of his cleaned up plate there afterwards. i might even take a picture of the fucker before i cut into the bitch, but half my pretty crust fell off in the oven when the dogs was fussin. that's why i cant bake the pretty cakes around here because of the dancing and prancing they do throughout the house like pitbulls in a department store, prolly like von maur or something. they fought over the eyes of elmo tonight. the dorks. my mom made all the pretty shit to eat. i just make all the good shit. i don't give a fuck what it looks like- really. give me a clean plate and we are off to the races.

ashleymaddison.com

dear just look at this now diary,

another week in my back pocket. in my back pocket. in the parking lot of my back pocket. please pull up front. i am exhausted, but i am not at all tired. when are you going to nap with me? cheater cheater pussy eater. you'll nap with ashley, but you wont nap with me. it's cool. i know ashley too. whoo hoo. cept i'm so busy i never need to call ashley to help me. gawd. that's just stupid. sometimes i'm so busy i have to tell my customers to call ashley when i cant help them out. don't bother getting a couch from ashley though- cuz they suck.