cleaner pizza

dear shy diary,

i got it in my head tonight that i wanted sparkles on my fingers, which is unusual for me because i'm not into sparkly things like my birth mother is. i'm not so much a frosty girl either, i like the bold and darker colors. i can imagine that is why i like this time of year so much, being this is when the browns and deep reds are most fashionable, but i'm the type of whore that'll wear red all year around- there's no doubt about that. my fingers aren't shy like my shoulders are, oh and my mouth isn't shy either.i had a fire in my oven tonight. i ruined my brand new paint job cleaning my oven, which is why i now have a sparkling clean oven and a sparkling new color on my tips.

cream filled sponges

dear manage your image diary,

ding dong. anyone home? i was thinking maybe it is time i start chewing with my mouth shut. the lights are on. i hate sitting like a girl. this is one of the reasons i never open the door anymore. i may not be able to go national. my skin has been so dry lately and i think it's because i cant keep from scratching and digging at it like i have scabies. now listen, i don't have scabies, but if i did, i'd tell you because i really don't give two fucks. why try to be something i'm not? ima whore! good Christ right?

come by at lunch

dear polite or not diary,

manners or mayonnaise. left over or left behind. pizza or pizazz. trifle or truffle. i always wonder about certain things and those really aren't many things i wonder much about, but pizazz is a word i don't use very often. burping has got to be one of the most annoying things anyone can do in front of someone else, other than farting (duh) and i dunno, it isn't even cute. the grump has a burping problem sometimes when he gets done eating i'll pat him on his back to help them all come out better, but when he burps, IT IS CUTE. when he farts- it's cute too, to a point, and then it AIN'T SO CUTE. i couldn't love someone who burped constantly and it would be hard to even fuck someone who sat around and burped all the time. thank God i don't have to.

the distance we travel to station one

dear no good deed goes unpunished diary,

keeping up with the dealings around here is easy these days. it would be fun to report something fishy, but nothing going on here. i don't need new toys to keep me happy. the same old ones are fine. sure, ima a boring person, but my pussy don't stink and i don't have any funny shit growing down there. i made apple cupcakes tonight and even vacuumed the living room.  so i dunno what you're gonna do, but ima paint my nails. 

a whora the explorer

dear go on and get one diary,

really, how much good would it do to write a dirty post if i have to write six clean ones to make up for it? not much, but i'll try it. but first we have to set boundaries and guidelines and all that jazz. i'll be keeping my pants on, but i don't care what you do- my mouth is always open. i like to explore. i like to explore with my eyes blindfolded and use my other senses. i'm really big on smell. yes, smell and touch are the most powerful and can easily overtake my every desire. i succumb easily to the familiar, just as some are excited by only the new. after removing my self applied blindfold i am surprised and sickened by all which has turned me on. no longer can i write that dirty post anymore, but yet i am still a whore.

the peeping queen

dear the strangest courage to be bored again diary,

i did something i never do. i just cant believe i did it. i could do it again i bet and maybe someday i will, but maybe not. my mums are so beautiful this year and i think it is because i trimmed them back like you're supposed to. usually i am so busy being bored i forget to follow directions, but this year i did and i am reaping the rewards. prince william moved the baby crib so i can see it through my window again and i like it where it is now- even though it is a stupid place for it. she'll be sleeping over here most of the time anyway- so i dunno why i worry- her 1000 per inch egyptian thread sheet count crib bedding i have will be what she prefers. her mommy and daddy just don't know how these things are yet, but they'll find out.

coldplay is HOT for me again

dear enter quietly diary,

almost two years later i couldn't stand what it was still doing to me and i had to do something about it. so i listened to the cd this morning. it sounded the exact same way it used to and i remembered every word to every song on that bitch, but the meanings have all changed. no longer do i sing to the same audience when i wail going down the road alone in the truck (this time). i no longer see that face in my mind or smell that smell in my head- there is nothing attached to the music i dearly loved so much and i believe i am free to listen to it again. oh i am sure once every so often those awful memories will kick to rear their ugly presence, but i am prepared. i will flip on some BACK IN BLACK to conquer those and DROP THE WORLD ON ITS FUCKIN HEAD.

a hit man named bob

dear broken car good idea diary,

so, the part for my car cost THIRTEEN DOLLARS at the dealer in springfield and SEVENTY DOLLARS at the dealer here (aka BOB BRADY) and ima put a hit out on the dealer in my town (aka BOB BRADY) and so..... there are those that say life is an illusion, that reality is simply a figment of the imagination. however, in this case i am afraid not. for as uneven as a score of 13 to 70 would be in a child's baseball game this is something that can not be left just noticed. if i were a wealthy whore, i would rent several BILLboards to display various messages around town. this would just be another one of my glorious messages.....

"FUCK YOU BOB!"

i miss my bong song

dear impressions run deep diary,

forgiving is hard and forgetting is harder. my mind will have to rot from my head before i quit remembering how happy i was being lied to and lying about it all everyday. it was all so wrong, but yet in so many ways- it all seemed okay, but still not right. it got me through some very rough times and created some very rough more, but it strengthened me for the days which were to come and the days in which i am now a whore. i regret getting as deeply involved as i did, but i am thankful i played dumb most of the time. whenever i could feel myself becoming weak- i'd break out the dumb card instead of dropping the dime. then i thought i could be clever and that is where i went wrong, not holding anything over his head for leverage was my mistake- but i didn't want anything he had anymore- i was tired of his same old song. i think honestly, the thing i miss most would be my bong.

here's a lighter

dear strange journey diary,

no need for a map here. we need to talk. i need to survey some land again. chains and cinder blocks are no longer used to survey land, but he believes they could still be helpful. knowing true north should always be something everyone should know and that is something often the most difficult to come by. i get turned around easily until i find my way to california and then virginia and then my grandma's house and of course- canada. canada is always north. that is very easy to remember and always seems to help me remember how to get there. last time we tried to leave canada, they tried to prevent us from doing so. i think they liked me SO much up north- they wanted me to stay. not having any of my clothes or anything, i wanted to at least go back to our hotel and check out- so i begged them to let us go. after a few hours (not kidding) of rough interrogation and careful search of my fast firebird, the unibomber and i were released. we lit that ONE fucking special cigarette up we had just as soon as we pulled out from under the awning area and were so happy to be back on american soil. i told the unibomber hauling all those chains around would eventually cause us trouble and last time we got out of it. i'm not taking any cinder blocks this time and special cigars are completely out of the question.
 

a big head

dear this afternoon diary,

according to today's date, october the 7th, we are officially one full week into the tenth month of the year. unfucking believable. it is finally time to bust out the monkey hat. i am SO excited. my hats smell so good. my only problem i have is deciding which hat to wear first. i think i may have to go purchase a new hat and wear it so my other hats aren't offended. sure, with my monkey hat being my most treasured hat, it will get the most head time, but i'd like to find a new favorite this year. maybe a giraffe hat would be nice. at any rate, it is time to dig the knitted fuckers out and i couldn't be happier about that. i never really feel like my true self until i put on my hat.

the travel logs

dear tootsie roll after bob diary,

i get confused on the toll road because i always have to get off and pee, so i quit getting off because it cost me like $8 bucks extra in pennsylvania one time so i just pull over now and do it like a man. once, on the way home from california, ima guess it was on or about may 28, 2000, i had to shit so bad on the oklahoma turnpike- i just pulled right over and shit like a dog and left a washrag and a pile of doodoo there as an extra form of payment that day for my travels through their hot ass state of emergency. now every time i get on that turnpike i laugh and remember how stupid i felt knowing 24 hours prior to my roadside shit i'd stood on national television next to a legendary icon, but all the truckers going by HOPEFULLY not seeing me didn't need to know that. i'd have a hard time shitting along side the road nowadays. ima a persnickety shitter, i mean- the atmosphere has to be just right. i'm beyond the age where i can just hunch over and shit anywhere i guess. but i suppose that ain't such a bad thing now is it?

the picnic near the church of the dead

dear hanging lights diary,

i still want to live on a cobblestone lane where the street lamps are more for decoration. i want the big shady trees to drape over the sidewalks and streets in some spooky-like, yet romantic way. i wanna hear the little church on the hill ringing the sunday bells. i wanna watch the group of teenage goth girls in the cemetery practicing their halloween spells. i want to have that huge antique light fixture in my dining room again, the one that everyone who comes admires. then i want to clean and polish that old fucker whenever i get that strong desire. yes, working in my herbal garden down on my dirty knees, along my years of collected rocks and maybe a little moss in the trees. i'd like to have a little pathway leading straight out to a field- where i can take my checkered blanket and have a simple meal. do they have spanish moss in new england? 

on a roll-er blade

dear nothing worse than you diary,

there is nothing much to do and nothing worse than you, so i'm good here. seriously, i have decided, God bless you, if i never do anything ever again, it wont be you, so i'm good to go. my life is complete. if my dog shit in the house eleven times per day, that would be better than being forsaken every single day of my life remaining..if a toe fell off my foot once every 6.5 years, i could live with that too, as long as it was a reward for not loving you- sign me up. i have a lot of free time these days. sure, it's all going to end soon, but for right now, i have it. really, i've had it for quite a while now and it amazes me how much i've let my mind dwell on the dumbest things. like, i'd really like to grind your tiny little penis up in an old fashioned meat grinder, but then i think, "why get that fucker dirty with something so little and stupid?" someday i do hope these feelings and thoughts will fade, but until they do, ima just lock them safely on here, for further forensic examination. SHOUT OUT LAWYER DICKFACE!

having the HIV test (done that yet Mr. Loveman?)

dear never quit wondering diary,

if you were me and i was you then you would be the retarded whore and i would be the hero and would prolly be disease ridden and have all the bitches calling me and you would stay in bed all day and deal with the unibomber and wouldn't that be something. but i am me (thank goodness) and you are you (praise God) and i am disease free and you couldn't handle the unibomber, he has a big hardy dick. it's all good in the hood, my hood anyway, i dunno what goes on around your hood these days and i don't wanna know. i beg not to be told. but it comes, like i never used to with you, it comes. all i know is, if i were you and you were me, i'd be having those tests run i begged you to have run for my own peace of mind.

painbow bright

dear big door prize diary,

i'll just bet if a person got to sit on a rainbow, that fucker would burn the shit out of your ass. don't you think with all those colors stacked up on each other that the spectrum would be hotter than hell? i do. mind your manners and be quiet as a mouse and someday you might own a home that's about as big as a house. i wished i had a story to tell, one that wouldn't impress you much, but just to let you know, i'm not gonna lie like a rug, but ima write til my head is empty up there. i'm just a goofy girl in a big world that is too small for me these days. chasing down the pieces of the peace and quiet is hard for me. just when i thought i found the rainbow, i got my ass burnt and i'm colorblind. how do you explain that walking around in circles in the dark. before i was a movie star i had a pretty simple life. but these silent films are killing me.

the revolving whore

dear we had tonight diary,

wasting time, you did always say, "who needs tomorrow." well, we had tonight and now it's gone. with clean sheets on the bed and my whole entire body cleaned and well shaved, who knows what could happen. you never know and i wont either because i promised myself i wasn't going there again and i wont until i absolutely cant stand it anymore. then when i do go there again, it'll be the best either of us ever had and fuck it all bets are off... again. when all this madness does finally come to end end i hope it is not tragic. i wouldn't mind having sex every few months because when we do that shit is magic. i'll cut you a deal and charge a reasonable rate, shit i wouldn't mind paying you. just let me put a bag over your head and then you can leave just as soon as i'm through. how does that sound to you? why am i excited now?

no passing zone

dear rush if you must diary,

i'm sure if i'm ever rushed off to the hospital again there wont be a big hurry next time because i'll be dead. i've decided i am no longer going to the hospital. there wont be a need for sirens, but i can imagine the meat wagon driver will go ahead and use them- because he can- and because they're there. fuck i would- use the sirens and lights prolly- even if there was nobody else around- just for the drama. i dunno though, it depends on my mood at the time. but i think most people just live to 'run the siren.' i just want to drive fast. i could give two fucks about the bells and whistles. i think i grew up the day i stopped caring about who was watching me and started enjoying what i was looking at. i love watching people watch me. it is more entertaining than i ever imagined.

more bodily changes (public and pubic)

dear feeling disjointed diary,

i can not sit here and watch someone stir up and bake a cake on tv. maybe the unibomber can and needs to, but i cant do it. i don't have it inside of me. and while i am at it, joel osteen is a fucking idiot. i used to tolerate him and now i want to slice his neck open with toenail clippers, he and his fucked up wife. i can only imagine his hero status and i don't even want to. yuck. so i am sitting here. i thought about changing the sheets on the bed again, so ima prolly do that in a minute. there is a nice breeze coming through my window and making my hair tickle my forehead. i have all of my hair piled on top of my head right now- i'm doing my ugly time- getting that out of the way for the day. i'm washing my favorite bra right now and i got my boobs out flapping for some air. it'll be nice to shake the dog hair out of that bra- i ain't kiddin' you none. itchin' son of a bitch was driving me insane and was kinda starting to smell a little bit too after prince harry drove me to pets mart. that kid sure need to gain some confidence behind that wheel. he drives like a girl.

christopher columbus 1492 Bird Lane, Whoreville, idaho 62885-3393

dear bird finger diary,

all the polish keeps wearing off the big bird finger on my right hand, just on that one finger. i believe it is a message. i need a basecoat. i'll tell you another thing, with all the dishes that have been loaded and unloaded today, i'm surprised there is any polish left to be seen on any finger. then somebody can tell me why the sink is full again, cuz i really wanna know. how does this shit happen? so far october is a busy month. i've now been informed it is; breast cancer awareness month, domestic violence awareness month, fire prevention month, and we also celebrate halloween and columbus day. i think about my boobs every month and beating up the unibomber seems like a viable option year around. starting a lawn fire with a bag of lays potato chips like one veteran firefighter taught me is not something i do JUST IN OCTOBER, but this columbus day- i shall try and make a turkey for the canadians. i just got a whiff of my breath and it smells like something has died in my throat again. i cant wait to make my sacrifices on halloween night.

'it' smokes all day long

dear magic potion diary,

things around my house are fucked up as ever. truth be known, i don't want to know how to fix any of it anymore because i'm not that person who wants to fix it anymore. secretly, i hope 'it' breaks down along side the road somewhere and i'll just set up a tent and stay a couple of days and take it apart and bury it wherever it happens. then i'll whoop out some of my magic potion and sprinkle around and nobody will ever know i or 'it' was ever there along side that road and i'll be gone- in the wind- to start over again- without it. truth be known about alot of things, i've been working on that secret potion for years. the tent and shovel are in the trunk ready for the day it happens. because things will always prolly be fucked up around my house and it'll break down sooner or later.

a mid-panty post

dear wet diary,

posting from the shower, at times, can be fun and at other times.... rather difficult.

rump roasted

dear stories and mailing letters diary,

something is cooking in my kitchen and it's the roast i forgot i started. i fucking LOVE it when i do that shit because then it is like someone else came in and made dinner and left. italian beef sandwiches with onions and cheese on a toasty bun with french onion soup. omfg. if i were to have a last meal, that would be my order, complete with tiny baby potatoes covered in melted butter and fresh green beans. no need to R.S.V.P., i'll eat anything that is leftover. i may have to write a short story about that roast i am cooking that i forgot about- he sure was a beauty. having received no mail today, it was a sheer delight to get a new phonebook. i'll prolly end up keeping the old phonebooks and adding them to my collection, because at the end of the day, even old phonebooks can tell stories that even the most beautiful roast can not.

i will choke him later

dear donut diary,

now that i have completed more things around my house in the last hour than i have done in two weeks, i thought i deserved a donut. so i stood over the empty kitchen sink and ate one that i carved out. i don't much care for donuts, i only eat the part that has the filling shit touching it. when i finished that donut, i realized i might have ripped myself off, so i carved out another donut and ate that one the same way. feeling like i just ate a total of one donut now, i then drank my freezer chilled glass of whole milk and i feel like a fat cow. time for my daily round of arguments with the unibomber and off to bed i go.

old naked lady found dead (in rearview mirrror)

dear looking in the rearview mirror diary,

i know it doesn't work this way, but what if it did? what if you could turn the rearview mirror around and look out the front windshield and see the future through it? i think i would. i think i would want to know what i would want to know- before i'd want to know first though- to be fair. i wouldn't want to know something stupid. but what is stupid? it would be more fun to know stuff about somebody else- i think. especially if you knew someone who was a total fuck up. like, for instance, HYPOTHETICALLY, let's say you knew someone who was cheating on their wife, and you just wanted to look into the future and see when he FINALLY got caught, prolly 2041? or an even better HYPO situation, an unknown 'cuntface' comes home from work to find a full blown craigslist/yahoochat orgy in her sunken tri-level family room on the city's north side and tears all her clothes off and tries to join in and everyone screams, "eww FUCK THAT!" and leaves.

toothpicks and fish dinners

dear beating around the bush diary,

as stupid as i feel right now, it must pale in comparison to the way others must feel- knowing they've chosen to believe. i couldn't imagine eating that kind of soup again, but my taste buds have changed. what i crave now is substance, something i can really sink my teeth in to. it seems to me, cooking a piece of meat to the point where it is well done takes all the favor from the meat and makes it hard to chew up. i like my steak pink in the middle. please don't waste all day cooking up some bullshit to feed me. you really don't need to change things around much to satisfy this whore anymore. just make it hot and put it out there. however, come time for dinner and i think i'm gettin steak, don't bring me fish soup and not expect me to dump that shit on your head.

the tare on the snap scale

dear derailing diary,

particular reasons keep me from snapping sometimes and the first time i trained myself in the art of restraint i became impatient as the process was all consuming and not rewarding at first. with time and practice i learned the skill and know now it truly is an art. it seems like every time i pull into hollywood it is from a different direction and i get mega confused until i get to my center and then i zero out and i'm square. i know my way around that place like the back of my hand and the closer it gets to the time to go there, the squirmier i feel. i hate to have to snap on people, but if you always get in my way- ima prolly end up snapping at some point. you can even ask becky, i'll flip a lid on her ass when she gets to acting like she ain't got brain one in her sweet head too.

the screaming mummy

dear searching for mummy whores diary,

when i die, i do not want to be mummified. that is some creepy shit right there. i used to want to go to egypt and travel to other countries, but i'm so misunderstood here in my own country, i ain't gonna chance it. it was pretty easy putting myself in amanda knox's shoes and i think that is what made me write her. so when i saw the letter she released today- i cried. she thanked everyone who sent letters and said, "i love you," and i know she thought of me when she wrote that letter. i know for sure that prolly 99% of you think i am insane now, FOR SURE, but in the letter i sent amanda at christmas 2009, i told her she would come home and we all believed in her innocence. i also told her to keep writing (she's a driveller) and keep her spirits high. i will sleep much better tonight knowing amanda is home where she belongs. no more sleeping in dusty corners of a cold foreign land.

white trash seagull

dear manual migration diary,

hearing the first flock of geese or ducks- or whatever- reminded me, i wish i could fly south for the winter. i got in really big trouble at disneyworld last time we were there, get this, for feeding french fries to the garbage birds. i thought they were seagulls, and i still like to think they were, but i got busted for feeding them. being as sick as i was the days we were there at disneyworld, honestly, that was the most fun i had- feeding those birds- they came up very close to me and made me laugh really hard. if i had a chance to be a bird i surly would for many reasons. and if i had the chance to be a white trash garbage bird at disneyworld, well, what the fuck could be better than that shit?

candy corn apples (cracked over jimmy's funky head)

dear jimmy cracked corn diary,

and you guessed it, i don't care. but i prolly should. but he does it all the time. so who cares? not me. the unibomber blocked me on twitter tonight and i couldn't be happier. just like that, he doesn't exist to me any longer because, i blocked him back. now i can tweet whomever i'd like without hesitation and guess who will never ever know? jimmy. he will be cracking his corn in the dark. i would eat more popcorn if it didn't get stuck up in my teeth all the time, but it does- so i don't. i will tell you something that i do like though and that is cotton fucking candy. i sure did get the shit to make carmel apples whila go and i'm ready to take a trip to michigan to get more apples.

where is my pillow?

dear for reasons unknown diary,

i am just having the hardest time ever staying in bed today. i want to get up so bad, but i have nowhere to go, nothing to do, and frankly, nothing i even want to go and do, so why bother? i'll make myself sit here if it kills me. i'll be able to nap again shortly, but i'll need some visual stimulation to wear me down first. watching the grump sleeping will help, but ima need more. ima need my becky.

drag it on lady

dear karen's diary,

here you are again. why do you come here? i, for the life of me, cant figure that out either. one would think that you know me well enough by now, yet here you are- for more intimacy. hummm... what do you wish to know today? i used to like butterflies. what drew me to butterflies were all the colors in their wings and the feeling they gave me in my stomach when i was near your husband. now, my tastes have changed and i am drawn to dragon flies. check this one out in detail when you get another free moment. i'll bet this is what you get in your stomach... huh?

this fly was found in clinton, illinois

a moment of silence for combat

dear big dumby diary,

well, i was getting ready to go back to bed and i realized what today's date was. ten four good buddy, i got married today i think. i mean i did, i know i did. i wore shorts and a tank top and combat boots- which were double laced and untied. since it was my second marriage, and all business, i dressed appropriately for the occasion. i loved those combat boots more than any pair of shoes i've ever had in my life. i got them in oklahoma. being smitten with a pair of boots can really change your outlook on life, even on a wedding day. i wore those same boots to divorce court a few months later and then again when i had my first husband's baby just a few months after that. it is funny how things change, i still have my two kids and my first ex husband, but i traded in my combat boots for uggs now. who knew i'd grow to like them much better 20 years later.

'x' marks the hole

dear directional diary,

not having dimples above my ass cheeks, somehow i feel cheated. i think my butt crack does not fully extend as high up as other womens do either and i say that because i've now seen one and i feel mine stops short. the lady's butt crack i saw the other night came damn near way over the top of the back of her jeans and i know mine does not and that made me wonder, (of course like i assume anyone would) WHERE IS HER BUTT HOLE? i never did ask her, but i couldn't stop looking at it and wondering all night long and so finally i took this picture. now between you and me, i feel air when there is air back there, but this lady didn't. i'm thinking this is how she wears her butt crack. you tell me.

hole of ass

primping is useless (whore as you are)

dear disguised diary,

all in all, i believe wearing a mask can be a good thing, especially if you're ugly. some people wear face coverings and don't even realize they have them on. these are the true masters of disguise. some learn from an early age to hide not only their faces, but their true feelings and eventually their actions and behaviors as well- it all comes with the package. what happened to the tiny fake mustaches and stick on ears people used to use in the old days to radically change their appearance? or a hat? how about that? i don't think we need to all step outside our individual rolls and be something we are not- just because we are ugly and decide to dress up.

blow up dolls (flaming retarded)

dear popping a rod diary,

if everybody got a turn like 7 ELEVEN, then it would be my turn. i'm not willing to give up, i still have my hands on the cookie jar. i know someday the jester will pop out and prolly scare the fuck out of me, but until then- i'll stand here and wait. i didn't much care for my 'jack-in-the-box' as a kid. it pretty much just sat in the corner of my room on the shelf for most of my 'toy time' life and i never even paid it any attention. i think my mom musta realized it finally when she donated it to the 'redbird mission' and finally- the creepy thing was gone. i hate things that pop up and especially things that pop up and are meant to be cute. the cuter things are, the creepier they can be and the faster they will pop up- it seems like.

none of the above

dear that took long enough diary,

what if we all stopped asking questions and just accepted everything as the information comes? life would just be so much easier. there would be no need to take notes, no need to make recordings and no need to make video tapes. phone records can be helpful in recalling facts which can sometimes be lost in the everyday shuffle of day to day life. but what would you need the records for? it seems like there would always have to be a question about something, like a question about a question at least, or why there is no question anyway. ima try to eliminate all the answers i've stumbled upon and stop looking for the questions.

designer manwhores

dear designer doing designs diary,

in the event the world would be filled with boring things, along came the designers of exciting things. no longer came the flat colors and skinny straight lines, but the birth of fantastic bold and sharp curvy lines we know today. being unlimited is the key to fortune and success. however, there must also be designs for the 'unlimits' or the designer may continually revert back to the lines he's always been so comfortable making and never design any new ones. maybe that is why some designers step out and always come back to their style and are pretty much known for it always..... with wings.

i thunk about it

dear not the end of the story diary,

sometimes what you think you know is not what you end up knowing in the end. sometimes when you think you're at the end, you're not, you're still at the beginning. once i felt like i just could not take ANY more and then got twice as much as i ever had. i said it could never happen again; it did. uncovering explanations for these crisis of conscious would surly put many minds at ease, but prolly cause many others to become contractor's and thus try and benefit of knowing what comes next in people's lives. i hate snoopy bitches anyway. i'd rather think what i thought i knew and be wrong six years later, than know ima straight up idiot now. but either way all my bases were covered because i've been a retard this whole time.

the baboon apprentice (and the green tic-tacs)

dear looking as i pass diary,

i think i have written in this diary before because something seems familiar. i think it is time we share words. a big splash. i may be poor, but i'll be honest, your ship is leaking. i could not stop the water from coming forth, but there is a lady here that says she could. to look into the light long enough will always cause a temporary blindness, but to look into the burning sword will take that gift forever. it all begins with the numbers and something never did work for me. walking past a complimentary gift horse can be somewhat amusing and awkward if the effort is misconstrued as disingenuous or spiteful. running the red bull across the water, i have no stomach for shooting at any heroes anymore. that is a job for somebody else now. always bring green tic-tacs when going for a visit, the stench of that breath is what i seem to remember the most.

alone in the hall

dear play fair diary,

being easily distracted should be considered a handicap and i suppose it would be if you got the label ADHD or ADD somewhere along the way. i never got that diagnosis, however, i was considered quite the opposite- a lazy young lady and terribly unmotivated about much of anything. knowing what i know now, i wasn't as lazy as everyone thought, i was just profoundly retarded. 

the math book

dear bigger picture diary,

have you looked outside the box yet? have you? here... let me take you somewhere you may or may not have already gone yet. i have now published in the upwards of 2,260 postings on my FABULOUS blog here, with an estimated (average) of about 12 minutes per post, that equals 27,120 minutes i have invested in my blogging- which comes out to, 1130 hours and really, that isn't very much over a 10 month period of time. there are things i have devoted more time and energy to, trust me.

a thoughtful whore

dear changing things diary,

oh well. mixing things up really wasn't my style anyway. okay, i'm lying. i like to mix shit up as long as it can be put back exactly the way it was. i think touring the cemetery with a bunch of people should be against the law. i think private tours should be given in respect to the resting- if any tours are to be given at all. do we really need public tours of our graveyards? i could give you a private one. i have good relations with those who've passed on though, i have much respect for them and they know it. i can take you where others may fear to tread because i can reach out for the hand of the dead and i am touched.

clean pants

dear sometimes i wonder diary,

i'll just betcha the people around here get tired of seeing me in the same pajamas all the time. it would be a safe bet and an even safer bet to put your money on the fact that i don't give much of a fuck either. i have stacks of pajamas on my shelf and even more to put there for winter. when this is all said and done, i will have taken a three year vacation from my life. how do you take a vacation from a vacation? because my life was kinda already a vacation, but then i had to change things around for a bit. see, i hooked up with a shitty tour guide who fucked me. thank goodness my former tour guide took pity on my situation (briefly) and tours me again. but will i ever leave the pajama phase for good?

tour of fruity

dear documents diary,

my sense is that my actual diary and the compilation of all these ridiculous pages of garbage mixed with sharp and focused wisdom will someday gain the attention of some foreign national and i'll prolly get some type of noteable writing peace prize for uniting third world countries and making a large contribution to thousands of people who never had the desire to read before they found my drivel. i can imagine people lay awake at night and think about my pussy stinking through the isles at target, at least that's what one caller said he does.

too much to figure out

dear new week diary,

i'm not sure what i am doing here anymore. i really don't have a goal anymore, i achieved that long ago. what keeps me going remains undetermined at the current time and i seem okay with that for now. i wonder though, will there come a day when it isn't okay anymore? oh i doubt it. i seem pretty content rattling on and on about the same shit day after day. but you have to admit, once in a blue moon something new slips out and surprises us all. i am so worn out, tired of pretending all the time and my blog is the only place i've found i can be myself again. you have no idea how much emotionally safer it is for everyone that i remain confined here rather than loose out there somewhere... screaming in a panic. if you think you thought you knew me, chances are you prolly did to some extent, but even if you read every word i wrote here, you wont understand me until i am dead.