the best things

dear walking on hair diary,

here is my new and improved plan. ima pretend. ima compartmentalize. ima do what i do best. ima live in 'la-la land.' ima ignore it. ima starve it. ima turn my back on it completely. ima look the other way. ima feed the cold. ima just say nothing ever happened. ima act like i know nothing. ima turn the other cheek. ima take it day by day. ima walk the walk. i ain't gunna fucking make it center stage. ima act like it ain't there. ima enjoy my days. ima love my nights. ima dry my tears. ima help him fight.

the library card

dear ima bout to give up diary,

my mind is about dry. i dunno what more there is tonight. if i could lip sync, now is when i would. things are the way the are. i'll wake up tomorrow the same way. prolly. except, maybe the hurt of what is to happen will be a tiny bit less, or maybe tomorrow will be the day it will happen and all the pain will be front and center for me to address. no words could ever equal the account of the actual theme of the story i could tell- so i wont even bother.

tie a bloody tampon around the old oak tree

dear dirty elbows diary,

do not read between these lines. i don't know what you'll find. it's nothing i've deliberately put there. no secret or special text i wish to share. i am in no way responsible for how this may make you feel. i write what flows through my empty head. i never want to strike up a deal. i am not trying to feed you dinner or get my fortune read. times are tough, for some they sure are. i couldn't imagine driving your car. the way you gain self worth is to strip others of theirs. watch out someone might be waiting to push you- at the top of those stairs. with the chiiter and the chatter and the rungs on your ladder, johnny will march back home through those doors, but behind them will be a mighty long trail of hungry 'not so well fucked' whores.

the great wide closed

dear thinking about death again diary,

boy- that topic just steady is following me around. i am strong about it right now though. i ain't a big fat cry baby like usual. i am thinking like my mom prolly did when she had to think about her own death. wow. now i am a cry baby again. why does it have to change so fast. FUCK ME. ima clear my throat and sit up straight and think clearly again- after all- it is a dog. brought up in a home where we could have the best of nearly anything we wanted, but still always kept everything we ever had- including the box it came in, it isn't hard to understand how easy it is for me to attach myself to everything i love dearly. i think being deprived of a bedtime animal inside our home made me love the ones i have as an adult as much as my own children- if not more at times- because my dogs never grow out of snuggling in my bed at night- or all day. i cant get william or harry near my bed anymore- and honestly- i am fine with that. but death- the final frontier? i doubt it.

red means go and green means stop

dear apples today and fucking shit tomorrow diary,

i am craving apples. i guess i really am a whorse. they feel so good on my teeth gums. chewing is something i love to do. i think i like red apples better than green ones. honeycrisp apples rock. when i die- i may not go to Heaven, but i hope there are apples where i do end up- i even eat the peeling now.

old habits that are OK now

dear you don't need to tell me diary,

i still remember being a child. my body smells the same. the sky has the same colors sometimes and i can hear it- in my ears- my youth. then i see someone who should be an infant- but they are old with infants and this sends that jolt of sudden and complete and fierce reality through my entire being... i am fucking old now. was i lucky? looking back i really was. what would i do different? i'm not sure i would do much of anything different, except maybe rearrange some words. he likes it when i dig my nails into his furry back while he humps me. i like doing it for him. i don't really mind anymore- like i used to.

over easy or scrambled

dear cracking an egg diary,

every morning when i wake up i turn over and go back to sleep because i hate mornings and believe me when i say i turn over because i've slept on one side long enough. i never sleep on my back because i'm afraid someone will land on top of me so i sleep on my side instead- then i put a pillow- i always put a pillow in between my legs for security. that way if a prowler were to ever break into my house and try to sexually assault me- he would assault said pillow first. i think ahead. i keep a 41" sword next to my mattress anyway so let a mother fucker come knockin. i'm ready anyway. just as soon as this dumb stupid order of protection is over- i'll get my guns back and hang my swords back up on the walls in the kitchen and laundry room wheres they used to be and i'll be all happy again.

hash tags & bbq bags

dear in my dream diary,

i broke a mirror in my dream last night. i'm wondering now if i will have bad luck in my dreams for seven years. then we moved all our shit to california, including my bathtub, which incidentally i had the most magnificent and intimate bath in last nite- it was to DIE for. in california we moved into my aunt and uncles old glass car dealership showroom that was empty- and this was to be our new home. the only thing in the entire building was a blow up dracula dude on top of a fan- with beedy red eyes- a leftover advertisement my cousins had just kept in there as a creepy joke. my cousin tommy unlocked the doors for me and gave us the keys and turned on all the lights. i could see into cars and the faces of their drivers as they drove by and looked into the showroom- our home- and i thought, "i will never be able to pick my nose here."

the weakly atom bomb

dear total for the weak diary,

man y'all. i just looked at my post total for the week and it's weak- to say the least. this is post TWENTY NINE. it doesn't have to be like this and it surly wont, and why it hasn't impacted my visitor count is beyond me, and really i don't give two flying penises into a folded lawn chair, but i should get it into the thirties. i have til midnight. i'll be able to do it. maybe even forty-one if i try hard enough. i just cant get that damn lump to go swallow down in my throat. it sits there- waiting.

the chalkboard

dear personal inventory diary,

right now would not be the best time to analyze myself. i have been second guessing everything i have ever done over the last twenty years and especially over the last ten. what could i have done differently? is there a way i could have made this go in a different direction? what if the hero wouldn't have farted over him? could a fart cause cancer? to second guess the choices i've made is really a huge waste of time- we all know how stupid they were. now it's time to wipe the slate clean with the blood of something i love more than anything. no. that is not how it will work man. this had to be in the plans before i played my bunk ass hand.

caught in my landslide- i'll give your boots back someday

dear if you see me diary,

if you're driving along and see me walking, don't stop. if you see me sitting on a bench waiting on a bus that you saw turn over and blow up, don't save me any time- let me sit there and wait. if you know an asteroid will fall to earth and hit my house, don't warn me. if i drop a million dollar unclaimed lottery ticket and you happen to find it, keep it and live large, i would. if you get the world's ugliest MOST RETARDED dog and name it 'trixie,' i promise i wont mind, i don't even want to know. i don't want to look outside and see you driving by. i have enough reasons inside here that make me fucking cry. if you were the only one who could ever understand what i said, i would demand you find a gun and fill its chamber with lead.

room in my coffin

dear like melting cheese diary,

when my heart is aching- my fingers are numb and the words slow in my brain. i want to post like i always post- but my eyes are big and sore and puffy. i know that is no excuse and i shouldn't let my troubles impact my thought patterns and let them become irregular, yet somehow they have. my worries have taken over my silly, everyday, natural whore thoughts- and it makes me wonder at times- WILL I EVER EVEN BE THE SAME WHORE AGAIN? i wont. there even ain't no kinda sense in discussing it. i've already changed. i cry now. i actually want to die now. my protector is going to leave me soon.

the bruise on my leg

dear when i go to the store diary,

i wish there were things to put in my cart that would make me smile diary. i wish there were fresh apple slices already in my bed diary. i wish i didn't see my whole past tonight flash before me diary. i loved seeing the dusty diary. the last in line diary. he seemed happy diary. dear crying at several inappropriate times diary. feeling retarded as ever diary. talking to my dog til he moved away from me diary. dear following my dog around on the floor crying at him diary. reasoning with God diary. going for apples.

ground up lamb meat- for dinner

dear sink in or put the pink in diary,

don't mind me, i'll use my own nose to sniff this shit out. i've been so angry at myself and tonight i finally got to say what i meant to say. i think the old fucker understood. i told him that when he wakes up and cant find me to keep looking for me because he found me the first time- he can find me again and i'll wait for him always. i will wait. i'm like that. i can wait for a long time if i really love you. and i do so very much love him.

blowing the eyeballs out of his head

no deposit; no return

dear put shit back diary,

those are the hand prints of bob hope on my background and the rivet across his hand, well, i found that laying across bob's ring finger in 2000 and i took it and put it in my pocket. after it left my pocket the day i took it, i kept that very rivet in the glove compartment of first brand new car- never taking it out except on very special occasions, like when i went to california or when i would show people and stuff like that. that little rivet became very symbolic to me and as the years passed and after my dream came true for the second time (with the rivet in my pocket once again) i became determined to return the rivet to the exact same place i had found it- mann's chinese theatre- in bob hope's left hand print. i thought maybe someone else could have their dream come true- TWICE- if they carried it around in their pocket and glove compartment for nine years. for the record, i always loved bob hope. he was so charming.

take another picture

dear leave it alone diary,

if you don't know where it's at- quit looking for it. how soon do you need it? you might have to go get a new one. i am glad you took the time to think about losing something we all thought you'd have safe forever. it's not my fault that you are a careless bitch is it? i wouldn't think it would be, but i know how you kinda like to shift the blame when you can. the hate in your eyes is sure shining bright today. let me stroke your ego. want me to pat you on your head as well? wouldn't that mess up your critical thinking? well you go find out what you think you'll find out different that i already know. put us all through hell during the process of your knowledge seeking- just like i did. i quit while i was ahead and still fell behind and got ran over in the meantime, just not by you this time. i've never made a single shout out to the one who hurt me so, go back and re-read 1844 posts and then you too will know. but between these lines clearly written every day, anyone- anywhere- could've seen what i wanted to go and what i wanted to stay.

everyone sees it

dear doing well diary,

it's a weird feeling when you know something you shouldn't. is it a gift to be able to plan ahead and know, or is it a curse. i cant tell you yet. i never realized young goats could be so fucking cute. i always thought it was more or less an insult to be referred to as a goat, but now- i don't know anymore. what do you think?



that's a fucking sweet little goat



i fell in love when i saw this goat. it looks NOTHING like any goat i've ever seen. i want to kiss this goat right here- multiple times. those floppy ears and that smiling mouth... it seems like i'm attracted to all goat mouths and chins. this goat has very sexy ears. i like the way they compliment his facial shape. i would happily chase this goat around all day long- until it got old and crabby and started having absurd ideas. when goats get old- they want drunken women goats with genital defects and mixed breed dependants. they want exactly what they said they didn't want in one pasture- in another pasture- with way more trauma and drama- where the grass is gonna dry up and die so much quicker- but oh fucking well GOAT MAN... not crying over here in the dark side of the sun. not for the species of goat i ain't.

making a spot for the Christmas presents

dear where to put them diary,

now that i have canned all my pickles to the point they look like fucking art projects, i dunno where to put them. old people can food and put that shit in the basement. i kinda want to wake up and see my pickles because they are so pretty lookin in their glass jars. so i thought about putting them across my shelf in here in my bedroom for a while. that way when i cant sleep i can count my jars of cucumbers. i know i will never eat this many pickles. but you know it is stupid to pickle just one cucumber for a month. i suppose now would be as good of time as any to dust a place off and move in the new produce and morning eye candy. i am proud to be able to please myself in the pickling manner. they'll be really good by Christmas and even better next summer.

man resembling unibomber found dead covered in old happy dog sperm

dear pizza in bed with the dogs diary,

comfortably on twitter- bitching out all those who twit shit that is retarded, i hex those people, giving out zits in their noses and reminding them how they are haters. some lady called me a psycho. dumb bitch. it isn't just a game. i'm ready for bed again- but making myself stay awake. i have a duty to do so. the grump has eatin scrambled eggs and salmon today. compliments of CHEF BOYARDEE UNIBOMBER. i figure my schedule will change now to fit his schedule. when he wants to bed up, i'll bed up. i even let him hump me last night and offered to let him finish- but he switched on over to the unibomber and finished there. i was surprised he let him, but if he wouldn't have there'da been a big write-up in today's paper.

an air-conditioned barn with FREE solar power

dear there must be some mistake diary,

i keep going over the life changing news in my head and then i went and got the mail and there was a $284 powerbill in the maibox. what the fuck is that about? some kind of 'love note' i suppose from illinois power- or whatever it is they call themselves this year. what if i go nuts and just quit. what if i- kidnap the grump and just go down to the farm and board us in the loft of the barn at night and bed down in the cool dirt floors of the stalls during the day and i'll grill t-bones for our meals and chase spiders around the windows. you don't know what i'd give to slow down our life and be there right now.

every single thing i ever loved

dear lost at love diary,

my heart is almost empty at this point. there isn't much left. even in my dreams i cried last night, but at least i did sleep. i have seen all that was ever good in my world just slowly fade away and i am left with the remnants to piece back together AGAIN. i feel lost- without any sort of protection now. if i have to let my grump go, only becky will know who i am. she will be the only one who will no longer fear me- she will have to be my man. i cant even think about the days which wait for me ahead. it is still hard to accept the years which are behind me. i am determined to make this time i have sweet and comfortable and honestly, i wish it was just me and him. is that selfish of me? oh prolly. he fucking made everyone else fall in love with him too. now- the few fucking dollars that are left in the bank- must be split between all these fucking greedy idiots who never made ONE deposit until it's time for the account to close.

i will always hump you

dear like a good neighbor diary,

ordinarily i don't ask God for favors. ima believer- i just don't bother the big man upstairs everyday for petty little requests for dumb things. i give thanks quite often because i do feel blessed and i know i am more blessed than most. my eyes are swollen tonight and my cheeks chapped. my baby grump.

ready to hump

in all cases, i never imagine the worst. the worst is what always i never think of. i fail to take in the information necessary to set off the internal warning we are all suppose to have. i ain't got it i guess. either that or i really am just plain fucking stupid. i do understand that there is a beginning to everything. i do understand that there is an end. but wondering why things only become so important to some people when it is time to let go- why take the time to show an interest now? some of us have always had unconditional and undying love that didn't need a sudden jolt of cruel reality.

garbage in the trunk

dear heading out diary,

cleaning out the car today in 100 plus degree heat kind of serves me right because i could have done it when it was 41 degrees cooler when it was 59 out but i was lazy then and had something better to do then. i had to use a dirty seat towel to wipe my dripping sweaty face. i was awake forever today and not by choice. my jaw cracked a zillion times from yawning all the way home. i prolly wouldn't have left at all today had i of known what the afternoon would bring. or maybe i wouldn't have come home. maybe i would have just kept on going. facing the music is hard when you don't like the song or your dance partner.

to the bubbly

dear oil in my hair diary,

my pickles are done and canned and everything. i couldn't be happier. i have all different sizes of jars. i hope they all seal- but then why wouldn't they. i sealed them. i am now ready for bed. the grump has a doctor appointment today and i am making the unibomber take him. it's not that the grump minds going to the vet, i took the kids- so he can take the grump this time. i do the shots and i took becky last time, WHICH IS SUCH A CHORE, because she insists on being carried on the tile floor. she wont even put her paws on it. i wouldn't either- the pissy shit. my whole house smells like a hot dog now- with pickles. good night polka dot heads. going to the bubbly later. i know it will be safe there.

mama be so proud

dear the third day diary,

today is day three my car wont start. it must be on a damned ass vacation. i suppose ima have to lift the hood this time. it could be serious. usually if you just let it rest a couple of hours it starts, or call the tow truck, which i haven't done yet, so maybe i should try that nifty trick. i been putting off buying another car. i don't want another car. i really really don't. i am so happy in that car. i feel like it should still run just fine. it does run just fine... when it starts. i had to drive the other car last night- which ran really good. sometimes i lose first and forth gear in that angry beast and have to hurry home in second and third, or at least that is what i tell the unibomber, but usually i can go on and finish what i need to do with second and third gears. since i am NO LONGER STAWKING, i don't DO anything- for fucks sake. i'll find a new and improved hobby to keep me busy someday. i have a feeling it wont be long.

horny tires

dear when in doubt diary,

i don't second guess myself anymore. i quit doing that because every time i did i missed out on shit or put myself somewhere i wouldn't have been if ida just went with my first instinct. hello? are you hearing me? do you do this too? when shit is so obvious... why do we tend to try and deny it? this is an age old dilemma i have been trying to unravel for so long and i have decided that for me- it is a choice. it is a fork in the road. i think i have to know how it will go if i went BOTH ways. i might be a 'bisexual' traveler. i no longer wish to be like this. i want to make a choice and stick with it. don't get me wrong though, i don't have any problem making up my mind about anything- AT ALL. it's just knowing which path to take to get there that stumps me. taking the short way will be faster and prolly cheaper, but taking the long way will be much more satisfying and liberating and in the end... does it even really matter how you get there once you have arrived?

two special response teams

dear upside down diary,

i am writing this post upside down. it is my first one ever. i don't know why i am doing it this way. i guess i feel like doing things a bit different. i am going to eat another brownie after i eat a steak fajita. i figured fuck it. ima hang upside down for a short and go make me a snack. i am starvin like a big cheetah man cat. that fucking air conditioner ain't shut off. fucker has been steady running all day long. i bet my power bill will be two hundred bucks again this month, but at least i been here the whole damn time to soak it up. i love staying home and being a whore. i love laying in the bed and counting up the score. i'll be so happy when the prize finally comes. i'll just be so happy to know you really weren't the one.

let me look again

dear don't you think about missing things that are still there diary,

when i look around sometimes i remember things i used to have and some of those things i still have but they aren't the same like they used to be. what i really mean, my things are the same- they just don't mean what they used to to me anymore. will they have significant meaning again do you think? prolly not, i say- but i pack my things just in case they do, or i get alzheimer's and need something fun to play with. oh the boxes i have set aside for the day that comes. and if i do get lucky and don't get the disease and just up and die and my kids are left with those silly fucking boxes to go through- well- they will have a fucking ball one saturday night sitting around doing that. i've kept some stupid, and i mean stupid fucking shit. but... it is my shit. a whole lifetime of shit that i add to everyday.

distracted driving

dear short fuse diary,

man. i don't want to brag, but i have a long ass fuse. that sumbitch will burn all day long. but ima tell you what, when my shit finally ignites- even the unibomber will stand back. poof. lapse in prozac. explosion- implosion- all at once.... the sandwich bags. so many sandwich baggies and none will self seal. that's right my friend, no zip lock. you can feel the release when the point of ignition finally reaches the the place where it finally lights my inner fire. snap. bake my cookie. you don't need to coach me- i am not on the team.

موقع الويب لهذه

dear foreign script posting title diary,

i might get this tattooed on the bottom of my foot.... موقع الويب لهذه ... i think it is bad ass. i betcha i know what it says, but i ain't sure. if i was going to get a tattoo, and i am not, but if i ever did, i still wouldn't. but if i had to, it would be on the bottom of my foot. i cant ever imaging having a big ink splotch on my body somewhere- especially where i could see it. but that's just me. some people can get tattoos and be totally fine with it. i just cant. i think they are nasty as fuck. my kids promised they wouldn't get tattoos until i am dead. i'm glad. that would break my heart.

i got got

dear how you do it diary,

i hunt by night and sleep by day, but i ain't what you'd call a cheetah. it is safer for me. it's a safe day today though and boy did i have big plans. i was leavin early today. super stretch and pull- i had so much to do. i wasn't limited today by anymfthing- except sleep. if i was missing, you wouldn't have to look far for me- the nearest bed. i'm telling you- that's where i would be. i'd be all snuggled up and babbling to someone. i cant ever shut up. well, at least i spent my entire safe day doing exactly what i wanted. i cant complain about that. all of my plants got watered. my pickles have one more day. i'll sterilize the jars later tonight.

who ate my butterball?

dear listening to jazz diary,

i don't feel much different after eating that brownie, maybe if someone who didn't eat brownies often ate one they would notice, but me- not so much. it's just like any other brownie to me. maybe iffin i were to eat another brownie- or two. the whole pan maybe. what if i do feel different and just don't know. what good would that do if i was the only one who knew and i wasn't sure. that would be sort of dumb, i think. so all that trouble to make the special butter to make the special brownies and i cant tell a difference except in the taste of my burps. nature adds flavor.

trixiethewhore dot com

dear i like the twitter diary,

at first i didn't. i like the old style chat rooms because it's hard for me to follow along. admittedly, it still is hard for me to follow along, but i use my phone now and that really helps. when someone twits me- it automatically goes to my phone. thank goodness or i would miss that shit. tweeting to me is like graffiti. you spray (say) something and then leave. you don't really stay around to see who may read it. cuz why would you? it's weird. i dunno. i like reading what everyone else twats about. i kinda check before i twit and make sure i'm not just spraying what someone else just did. because that'd be stupid. i like my twat name though and others do as well, it is east to remember and spell. i keep twatting #hln because i am sick of them. but oh well. they'll learn. i just saw a penis. i must go now.

thirty six thirty six

dear amazing diary,

watching, learning, laughing, and sharing. it wasn't me, but i was there and that was good enough for me. i don't mind watching it rain. i wore my shirt backwards tonight and i didn't even know until i figured it out. can i sit next to you then? can i sit next to you then? you never know how it will go, but when it goes you can sure watch it. up up up and away. there it went. now, sit down next to me then. now sit next to me then. if you say it's shit, then it's gonna be the shit. take your shit and go sit over there.... then.

o.b.o.

dear angry car God's diary,

realizing how many miles my fucking car has on it now, it deserves a day off once in a while. the thing is, i feel like i should be the one to determine what days it gets off. right? i mean really- i didn't do shit yesterday- and i have three other cars- so it ain't like it bears the weight of hauling me everywhere i ever need to go in this world. well, today the bitch wont start and all i wanted to do was move the fucker to get to another car. i guess ima stay home then. ain't no sense taking the truck out. i at least wanted to get three hundred thousand miles on the bitch before i sold my new car.

onions in the back 41

dear glad that's over diary,

now that i am awake for the whole day, i feel more alive and filled with curiosity than usual. what will i do for the rest of the afternoon now that i've slept. i could sleep more, but... i don't wanna, i need to take a bath because that onion smell is following me around which i can only assume is my armpits- but i haven't checked yet- i am scared. i'm just glad i don't smell like the unibomber when i start stinking. i could never fucking be able to deal with that shit. once upon a time.... i thought that was sexy. VOMIT.  i sure don't think that anymore. maybe that is why it is so easy to cuddle with a muddy dog who smells like the back 41.

highly orchestrated

dear up but not for long diary,

oh my gawd i am up but i dunno why. it's cuz of becky and the sun shining. has the sun ever been this bright at 9:41 AM before? i'm not sure it has here in this part of the country. global warming at work again? maybe. i need to put tinfoil over my window glass i suppose- this week anyway. i cant sleep with the lights on this bright. there are so many people who can just doze off while the lights are on- i have to put a pillow over my head.