oatmeal hair chip cookies

dear making them damn cookies again diary,

shit i can't even help it- oatmeal a weakness of mine. i forgot to renew my damn license plates again- so tuesday i'll be in that line. ima send maria up there to do that shit- damn i knew about it too- but i forgot to do it- like i knew i would do. i don't like the new shampoo i got at my haircutter place- it doesn't keep my hair clean very long and itches around my face. it is supposed to be all healthy and good for my hair but i am not liking the shit at all- i think i will either give it to the kids- or write a letter to the company and bitch- or both- i haven't decided yet. but twenty four bucks a bottle- my hair should be clean for a week. it seems like it is dirty the next day and shit- as soon as i wake up from a sleep. my cookies are done- my milk is super cold and i am in for a treat. then i am taking a bath and going to sleep in clean sheets.

1.5" thick cut steak

dear call to order diary,

the requests are in for meatloaf again. fuckers never stop with the 'wanting.' what if we didn't have any ground sirloin or ground chuck in the freezer? what would they want then? cuz i don't buy ground anything at walmart, cubs, or kroger. oh hail naw. i got them lil baby red potatoes tho last time i was up in walmart- i cant wait to smash them up. yum. i love baby red potatoes. i get them for my little potato gun too. them and aquanet hairspray in the silver can- that'll fuck somebody up- get a fucking baby potato flying at your ass at a rapid speed. dad has a cow hanging now- but i hope it ain't a very big one. i don't feel like dealing with a large side of beef. we're supposed to go pick it up this week- and my brother's ex wife is gettin a quarter- dads keepin a quarter and i'm gettin half- but really i don't need that much. ima be steady grillin the dogshit outta them tbones this summer tho- count on that. i'll be havin some happy dogs around here.

becky spread out like butter

dear valuable to the core diary,

when you ain't doing the work, you ain't getting the reward. find value in my words and keep your legs together honey. even tho it is so funny seeing her sitting like that- it isn't ladylike seeing her positioned in that manner. i just don't know what it was all for. this isn't a joke- and i am well aware of that, but i am beginning to wonder of the bigger meaning of it all. without overlapping consciously, who is to say it wasn't meant to all turn out the exact same way that it has? i am not willing to give up on the efforts i put forth- just on the lies laid out before me. it was your body that told me the truth. why she chooses to sit like that i would imagine is for her comfort only. ain't it cute tho?

it is your life afterall

dear new background diary,

i dunno about this one either. i don't know about any of them. they just all suck. trying to explain to the unibomber why his son finds him 'unapproachable' and i get my head fucking bit off. imagine that. i feel he projects an overly rugged masculinity. when really he is nothing but a shrunkin head. asshole. omfg. i have sacrificed and struggled. i always wanted to dump him and find someone better. twenty three years later- take me to your leader. here i am. twenty three years later. TWENTY THREE GAWD DANG MOTHER FUCKING YEARS. how in the fuck did this happen. this is the most public yet of my many humiliations. it's really great, on the one hand- being able to count on the one hand, how many lovers i've had over the past TWENTY THREE FUCKING YEARS, but then on the other hand, i think fuck that, why dwell on that shit- when there is tomorrow. so why not get married again? because that would mean there would be a relationship worth committing to. um, i don't have that.

dust to dust

dear ashes to ashes diary,

being a palm reader- it would be awesome to have your birthday on PALM SUNDAY. if your name was patrick green, it would be way cool to have your birthday be on MARCH 17th every year. if your parents named you star spangled cuz you were born on JULY 4th- that would be something- the list just goes on and on. but to be a FIREMAN on ASH WEDNESDAY how cool is that shit. it brings me to my knees. that is sure something- i'd say. if you know any of these blessed individuals this fact happens to pertain to- DUMP AN ASHTRAY ON THEIR HEAD AND SHOW THEM HOW MUCH YOU VALUE THEM AS A PERSON.

cash him out (would you?)

dear teaching the weeping willow how to cry diary,

i'll prolly sit here til i die. waiting for the clouds to show me a clear blue sky. i painted up my lips and curled up my tinted hair. i would have taken my love to town- but i am stayin home this saturday night. it wont be long- i heard them say, until she's not around- but i am stayin home for a little while- hello joe- come on in. i'll have friends over here- where there ain't no beer. love- it's a burning thing. mommas don't let your babies grow up and get herpes. everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down. soon your sugar mammas will all be gone. when every ones forgotten and you're all alone- you're gunna cry cry cry.

hey DEMOLAY (WHERE WERE YOU TODAY)

dear demolay diary,

unless you steal your alcoholic beverages of choice- you PAY taxes stupid.

unless you walk- or steal you gas- you PAY taxes stupid.

unless you grow your own food- and steal your seed- and save rain water- you PAY taxes stupid.

unless you wipe your ass with your fingers or steal your paper- you PAY taxes stupid.

unless you steal your INTERNET connection or know al gore- you PAY taxes stupid.

i was at the masonic temple today STUPID. you were posting on blono board? wtfe.

12:00-12:05PM CST

tom t. hall had a sneaky snake

dear that song is driving me crazy- i gotta hear it again diary,

the first time i heard it- i was with some friends. it's a simple little song that you can sing along- with an old time melody- so why don't you play that crazy little song again for me. that's just one of them silly fucking songs that crazy guy sang. i sure did like him as a kid- he kept it real. going down to my longway grandmas was always fun for me cuz i got to pick out all the eight tracks and tom t. hall always got played for that song and sneaky snake. dolly parton was another favorite and tammy- d-i-v-o-r-c-e- never did sound that bad when tammy sang about it. conway twitty tho- he stole my heart when i met him and got his autograph picture. i loved the song  joni don't cry. it always made me cry. it was a duet and i sang the part of joni. thank goodness i grew outta that country music stage when Y103 came along- but i am glad to have had the exposure. the country music of today doesn't even compare to the old shit tho. none of the new music does. it all sounds funky.

no remote for one channel

dear this is why i am not diary,

i don't want to give up being mad at the cuntface bitch ever. i paid to hate her- and she serves a purpose in my life. i don't know how to explain it. ok, since you insist, ima try, but only because i care about how you feel. i want you guys to understand- it really is all about the greenbacks. when you pay for a service- like cable for instance- you watch tv- or you would shut your cable off. some of us shut our cable off because we didn't want to pay our bill- then got direct tv- installed a dish on the north side of our house (on a new roof) and pointed it south- but most of us pay our monthly bills to keep the service. well, i don't have many reasons in my life to build and maintain animosity towards others and hold resentment and keep that subscription to any hater club ongoing- because i don't go to any bars or places where this is an option. i don't open myself up to that. i don't even belong to the YMCA anymore- but when i did- everyone loved me there. i don't usually have issues with people- not like i've found with cuntface. since she came along- she's helped me focus and direct all my senseless anger and frustrations- which would otherwise have just gone nowhere- into one place. every feeling of hate and utter disgust- goes to the cuntface file. i poke her voo-doo doll, what is left of it, and it brings me such joy and complete satisfaction and relief. when i read her tarot cards- and see the grief and devastation that awaits- i cheer. i know i should not rejoice in the onset of the upcoming plight- but i paid to hate this evil woman- forever my delight. premiere cable package- one local channel included.

are you offa work yet? 2nd shift begins

dear you go ahead and go home diary,

it is almost that time again. ima just write this one more little thing here and then head off back to bed. i said i was gunna get up at 714 but that was an honest lie- i forgot it's saturday today- and i ain't gotta. you prolly don't go back to bed. i dont know what you do. rosa said the prostitute visited you in the morning- i just cant get that out of my head- it sounds just like you tho- i can see you paying for some sex all day long. the way you would beg- i dunno. i guess i shoulda demanded payment. with all that mess you like to make- fucking something. so now the alarms gunna go off later- i suppose demolay is rolling in for something. ima be in the background for that. peepin. i got my binoculars in the car already- duh- the ones that take pictures- i'll scope him out- creepin. maybe- if i am lucky. maybe. i'll go to kfc and double down and get some chicken of the sea and stop by the den- and smoke. then go to the masonic temple with a martini and shirley and i and hope some fun begins.

picking out companions

dear you win i lose- how did you get that bruise diary,

clearly i thought the dog was mine or ida never let it in the house with the other ones. and once it was in here- i couldn't tell it apart from my own two- so i dunno if it looked like becky or the grump. it seemed like everytime i went to go after it- it looked like both of them when i went to pick the fucker up. i was afraid i would toss out the wrong dog. then it went to bite me- and that is when i knew i was going to have to kill it. then i woke up. thank goodness i had to pee. going to the bathroom saves me from doing things in my dreams that nobody should have to do. even in my dreams- i cant kill animals. i take that back- i could prolly kill a cat- but not a kitten. i would let the snake do that. when i brought becky home i think the snake could have eaten her. i loved becky the minute i saw her tho- i couldn't do it. i wouldn't mind having a bird- like an african gray. it just sucks tho because they are so loud. i am already loud- so i could only imagine a bird mocking my stupid ass. i think when my nest is finally empty- i will think about a bird. i will obsess over the bird tho and teach it every obscene word and phrase known to man. it will be a trash talking bird. ima teach it to say, "i have a little dick," even if it's a girl- and, "i have a fat pussy," even if it's a boy- just to be politically correct.

we could all have done better

dear bizarre diary,

i am beginning to think that sleeping during the day has more benefits- even when sleeping all night is uneventful. what in the world is shit getting flagged for in the middle of the night? that is just stupid. but at least i was expecting it. no big surprise i suppose- it just weenie sucks for me- cuz i barely missed it. i always do. the titles are still up but the posts are gone. bummer. in case you just hopped on the train here (highly unlikely) i am referring to craigslist. i am posting less and less there- but it is so fun still. i saw that cop at my work last night- he acted like he did not know me- i was bustin up. my whole department was. we was dyin. he just looked liked a dick. he brought his wife with him. she was a real looker. no wonder he defended the city employee for having affairs i thought- hell- he prolly has his fair share his damn self. poor thing. do you think when they got married they looked that bad? i do. it's sad. apparently us women are not the only ones with fucked up self esteems. either that or i found yet another city employee with a very small pee-pee. maybe he is the flagger.

it is goin down tonight

dear we need to talk diary,

look here. been havin and knowing its about communication, i realize this is just practice since you caint read. so, i'll make corrections prolly as i go along- yee hawl- but i want you to know that i am having a hard time going to sleep with the television on and it has come to the point where either we are going to require counseling or you are going to need to get the fuck out and watch the bitch somewhere else. you guys think that is to harsh don't you? i think so too. ok. you're prolly right. what about this then?

dear sir diary,

i was thinking about this compromise thing- and maybe i have been a bitch. let's try this. when i come to bed- how about if you refrain from watching any programming that contain the following:

• gunshots
• horses
• loud cars
• rocketships
• indians
• fighting
• yelling
• cars in general
• robbers
• gang violence
• murders
• flashing lights
• strip clubs
• cheering
• applause
• boo'ing
• crying
• barking
• knocking
• honking
• doorbells
• laughing
• news
• commercials
• infomercials
• religious/church shows/worship hours
• cartoons
• westerns
• cooking shows

make sure the close captioning is on at all times and the volume is completely off- and IF you use headphones and turn the speakers off on the tv YOU MUST turn them back on- because if i wake up and cant here the tv because you turned the speakers off- omfg i will fucking snap. AND WHATEVER YOU DO-  YOU BETTER NOT FALL ASLEEP WITH THAT BITCH ON BECAUSE I WILL WAKE YOU UP TO SHUT THAT MOTHER FUCKER OFF.

thank you.

no room for pie

dear waiting for food diary,

my shit better not be nasty either. once i brought prince harry here before school and he cried for a milkshake. when the waitress asked him what the matter was he told her i wouldn't let him have one and the bitch brought him one. i should not have left her a tip, but i feel bad for people who have to work. i always leave a tip. i love onions. my food just came and i ate one. hashbrowns. yep. orgasm. eggs. wow. starving. bye. be home soon

funky town (talk about it)

dear blogging at perkins diary,

i've sat in this booth before, but it doesn't really upset me to sit here again. really. its fun to connect to country nutrition. i honestly thought perkins had wi-fi, but upon arrival- they didnt. it's not stealing if the connection is floating in the air- hello? bitch i'm using that shit. fuckin it'll take me five whole minutes. come and get me. it is pretty crowded for being this late at night- i figured this close to midnight- it'd be empty- it's not. they got some jams playin up in here too- cant go wrong with the 70's tunes. oh hail- people are leavin- i must be scaring them off in my pajamas and high tech devices. my kid wanted pancakes- i wanted eggs. something about eggs is really what i like as a meal. the thing is- when i go to bed on a belly full of eggs- i fucking pay for that shit later. more people leavin. ha ha ha ha. i will clear this bitch out.

my victim has two extra days now (cuz i'm dumb)

dear hanging together outside,

the meeting went so well tonight. it kindof broke my heart to leave some of the workers behind- but they coulda come. it ain't my fault they didn't. we all had a plan. when can we hook it up. who will start it up? beginning. collect all necessary information. next step. utilize collected information for beneficial purpose. final step. celebrate. looking back to the planning stage- oh what fun that was. taking turns pitching ideas- you cant fake smiles like that. in the car going home we went over the details- one by one making sure they were solid- and then all of a sudden- the snag. the center point of the plan- the biggest detail of all- we forgot to even include- i didn't remember- and now none of it was any good. so now we have to reconvene on monday and have the meeting all over again- and get every one's fresh ideas into the mix- oh my friends. you would think these people would remember the things i forget- but they fucking never do- and that is a fucking shame when there is like eight of us stalking you.

going to bite the head off of some shithead bat

dear people lie and some go batshit diary,

i feel so much better now. why don't you join me. at the hips- if you want to. i'm just kidding. we took a vote. and i am just kidding. really. why did you back in? i couldn't tell. rachel seems different in allot of ways. distant. like i fucked her man- stole her best friend- killed her dog. something. and they made me sit next to her. i was excited to see her too- i dunno- i am sure they'll say it was in my head- and maybe it was- fuck who knows. who cares. ain't no sweat off my balls- even if i had any- i am telling you- they would not be perspiring- at all. now who wants to go batshit- that was the latest request- i think i'm up for that- i'd love to give it my best. pants on or pants off? or am i way off base? oh shit i might have just got some egg- all over my face.

the explaining pain

dear moody bitch diary,

so. ok. for real. now. you know. just by the last twenty seven (or so) posts that inside this one nowhere will read, "i am so fucking happy today i can't stand it," but ima work on that tonite. for one, i cant seem to find my favorite hairbrush. for two, i dunno, i cant find my balance. my center of gravity is off. for three, man i dunno if it is a good idea to start getting into all this- i could be here all day long listing out the shit, but three- i bought new windshield wipers for the car and it looks like ima be the one that gets to put the bitches on again. for four, i gotta drive with my high beamers on because my low beamers are burnt out, the both of them, and i think that ia awful coincidental- iffin someone were to ax me. thank goodness they prolly wont. that would hurt. and for five, i am so hungry it ain't even funny, yet here i sit, like an idiot- no plans for shit. and six. i dunno. i am not clinically depressed. but i kinda wish i was- it would be easier to just do something fun.

rare talent

diary of sharpening the knives dear,

two can play at that game. laugh all you want. snap. i don't even care. crackle. it is all fair. pop. fair and square. on your mark- get ready- sink that mother fucker in- make sure you hit your mark babe- the knife is not your friend. why are your hands both shaking- not used to lashing out? you have me right where you want me- i told you- i wont even shout. i wrote the note telling them- this is what i wanted done- giving you permission.chicken shit pussy bitch stop running your big fat mouth. shit or get off the pot- better yet just get the fuck out.

splenda sucks

dear spoonfull of salt in the sugarbowl diary,

hum. in the old days during the sugar shortage- folks would put salt in their hot coffee and tea instead of sugar to make it taste sweet. it was a little cheap trick to take the bitter bite off the drink i suppose. my grandma always told me that whatever you put salt into- you put a pinch of sugar into as well- and i still do. except in  mashed potatoes and like beef and chicken gravy. it is hard to explain when i do and when i don't- you just know when you're posta. there is a drastic price difference between the generic sugar and the name brand sugar at the store too- but when you open the bags- you can sure tell a difference. i buy both. somethings i can get away with using the second grade sugar- but sometimes i want the good shit. that is the way with everything i guess. people get used to what they have- but sometimes there is a better bag of sugar out there. and sometimes you can just use salt instead.

killer nails

dear waking up in a bitchy mood diary,

knowing i got little to no sleep AT ALL last night, i woke up in a delightful mood and yes, i am being facetious. i hate today with a burning fuckload of passions. i want to kill someone with my bare hands- i know who that person is- and i don't care if i break my nails. my head is pounding. my eyes bloodshot. i could be very convincing at this time. but i am not angry. just bitchy. pissy. i will be fine after a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a new pair of boots. ahh yes. boots. boots make everything better. maybe two pairs of boots, a new bra, and a purse and some eyeliner. that would really be nice. throw in a coupla bottles of fingernail polish- fucking i wouldn't have to leave the house ever again- but i would anyway. i was really mad last night about the tv being on. but frankly, it's been working up to it. it didn't just happen overnite. everynight that motherfucker leaves that bitch on and falls asleep and i cant find the remote. i have to wake him up to shut the tv off and he snaps at me. MY TURN. my fingernails are way to long anyway- so i wouldn't mind killing someone with my bare hands right now. i wouldn't. and i could. i know this to be true.

hey karen honey- this is PROLLY not for you- but if the shoe fits

dear tunnel vision diary,

have you ever looked out a window- only to see right back in? that is a funny little trick. have you ever looked in a mirror and not recognized yourself? that's a sad little place to be. that is your minds' eye telling you- YOU AIN'T RIGHT. the thing is- once it has gotten to the point where you don't know who you are when you look into the mirror- you pretty much know- you've done it this time. there is no going back. you are gunna have to get used to your new look. did your nose grow? then you must have lied. no color in your face? maybe you died. have people quit calling you- stopped coming by to see how you are? maybe this is purgatory then and there is no more. or maybe this is just how you age- what you look like on the next page- your hair turning that shade of gray- and your neck going away. what happened to your chin- and the shape that it's in. and do you think it was the weather that made your skin turn into leather? i saw you coming home from your job last night- that is not what surprised me in the least. it actually was the sight of your face- you looked just like a beast.

damn that becky

dear it ain't happenin diary,

i finally won- if you want to call it that- then becky started her shit- crying wanted to go out back. i was up at 4 and then 5 too, i wanted to wring her neck- but i couldn't find anything to do it with. and then i remembered my strange dream- very strange indeed- i had went into the men's restroom on accident it seemed. i was scared to come out- i didn't know what to do- so i hid in the stall for a few. people started looking for me soon- i guess i never came back out- i heard them calling my name and shit so i began to shout, "i am in here, i went in the wrong one- someone come and get me out!" i don't know who the voice belonged to but it said, "stay right there dumbass- i'll get you." with that i felt relief and knew my wait was over. that was a scary dream to have and one i hope to never live- being in the men's restroom with some filthy fucking pigs.

ima cut the cord like a baby

dear i am not going to bed as long as the tv is on diary,

you know, that is one thing i am not looking for in a relationship, friendship or otherwise, is the ability to not compromise. i mean look, i could do- every other night- maybe- but this shit right here- no. i ain't giving an inch for you to take a mile anymore- you are gettin a millifuckingmeter. i mean it. i do not ask for allot and i do severely hope you get someone to read this TO YOU. i am fixin to go ham on your ass and it ain't gunna be with no beans bitch. fuck some corn bread mother fucker you are goin downtown. turn the fuckin tv off before i break that bitch i dun paid for anymfway and you know i am right with your supermodel eatin ass. and i will go buy me a pair of boots tomorrow even tho it is almost summer and you wont say shit- say shit. oh and buy another mf'in tire for your harley and watch if i don't been have a knife up in that bitch. have it delivered here. HAVE IT DELIVERED HERE. now turn the mf'in tv OFF so a bitch can sleep.

two THOUSAND 3hundred stalkers!!

dear good grief diary,

what am i going to do with you people anyways? what do you want from me? what do i add to your day that you cant get from a pack of cigarettes and a bowl of fruit cocktail with extra cherries? 2,300. i do not know what to say. everyone send me a dollar? fuck that- i don't want money from y'all- plus i already know half of you hate me. i am so ok with that it ain't even funny. haters inspire me. more than you know. they drive me. i cant wait to put my plants outside. that is all i can say. fuck you guys. i mean it. fuck you all. 2,300 people. and i never accepted any friends on facebook- just so you know. i think i have like 26. i am laughing out loud. FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY. who knew. i do love you guys tho- i don't want to fuck all of you- just a couple hundred of ya.

texting with no fear

dear oh boyee diary,

i love my phone. but i am to the point that until this whole order of protection bullshit is over- i am pretty much scared of it. unless you are on my contact list- YOU ARE A BUST- and i treat you as such. it's happened so much over the last year too- and for awhile- i couldn't explain it. my lawyer has about fifty numbers. the messages i'd get were really kooky too. like- "meet me here," and, "do you remember this- and, "did you get this?" some of them really creeped me out. if you know me AT ALL, you know i used to send about 5000 text messages per month. since all of this shit started- i send less than 500. i still get quite a few- but i don't like to text anymore- plus i am so busy. i used to talk allot on the phone too. i am talking more now. it has been hard opening back up. one on one communication makes you more vulnerable to predators- they can find more where your weaknesses lay. i limit my one on one contact and try to put on this hefty storefront. there is no clearance sale here. no bargains. no special fucking orders either. but you can always return me. no questions asked. or you can get court papers. but i don't understand their purpose in the giant scheme of things yet. maybe that's the warranty.

looking in the mirror

dear ladies and gentleman and rough boys diary,

like i said, skanks included, i am smoking on a new cigar. sippin on the fruit of another. however you want to cliche it- done. stawked my last stalk. i told everyone tonite- i was bored with it. and honestly i am. besides, my check came in the mail today and i got a real nice letter from 914 with it. ima keep it forever and ever. it outlines what they want next- but he also says how wonderful what i have already submitted has worked out and how litttle revisions that were necessary before final edit. it would be hard to revise anything i write- because you never know if that's what i meant or not- and you risk throwing off the entire piece. i look at it this way- i personally wouldn't have writtin it- and they bought it- so they can do whatever they want to it. i do not give a rats ass what gets done with it- or whose name gets put on it. put yo mamma on there. just sign my little mf time sheet. cuz i am keepin track of my hours. looking behind me- i can see a shadow. i'm not even going to turn around and look. i got someone next to me now.

i hate beer

dear cutting a hole in my neck diary,


that is what i would have to do to drink beer- that shit tastes so gawd awful. i don't see how anyone can like that shit. this guy at work tonite was so plastered it made my stomach upset when he spoke to me. ick. i got the willies now thinking about it. worse- he kept talking to me like i knew him. then after like the third time he spoke to me- the drunk fucker called me out on it and said, "you don't remember me- do you?" well fuck no. what was your first clue dude? but i really didn't tho- allot of times i just say that- you know- to try and get out of talking. sure didn't recognize this stud. then it hit me. HOLY FUCKING HORSE SHIT. he was a friend of kelly's. now kelly- fuck i ain't seen her since i told her to fuck off in 2003. kelly- that'll give me something to post about later. but seriously- this dude was all about talking about kelly like it was back in the day. i musta stood there and told him twenty times i ain't talked to the bitch- but he kept on like i smelled her cunt yesterday- so finally i just shut up and listened. it sure is amazing what you learn when you shut the fuck up once in a while.

scratchin my ear

dear every time i lay down diary,

all the liquid in my brain- my brain water- leaks to the side of my head that is down towards the bed and it makes my ear itch. oh and tonite- we were all talking at work and it turns out i am not the only one who gets shooting pains in their toe- that shoots up to their pussy. them fuckers will double you over- it is beyond a tickle, but they make me laugh. i never knew anyone else this happened to. but seriously- my brain fluid. i have allot. it is swishy up there. a qtip will not reach the itch- it is somewhere in between the back of my ear and the back of my throat. so i use my tongue and a qtip- but i still cant reach it. beating the side of my head doesn't work either- believe me i have tried. i think the beatings have maid me smarter tho.

makin it clear

dear where you at- you little funky bitch diary,

keep making me search and i'll flip the fuck out. that's where it all went wrong. i share my thoughts- some of them- the ones that don't matter- and someone else falls madly in love. i think it's you- my hopes are high- and it turns out to be a man of such high caliber. he is very convincing- this man who is not you- but i have heard this all before, i keep telling this man with such a high status- reminding him- i am a whore. then i walk through my door- coming home- is always a challenge- but i cant just bail on my whole life. or can i? sometimes it seems like i have all that i deserve- and then i get really pissed off at myself and i think "WHAT NERVE?" looking back over time- and all the stupid paths i have chosen to take- i'm up to my knees in the same mistakes. maybe it is time to be held to a higher standard- if i do that first- then that is the way it will be. but to make a change it fucking starts with me.

into the suds again

dear smelling things diary,

my hands stink. and i can't quit smelling them. it is the strangest of smells, sweet- yet sour and rotten. what could it be? i've been petting the grump, but leaning over- he doesn't smell like that. i put my hand in my crotch- and smell it again- but it's not any stronger- thank God. it doesn't seem like i have been anywhere to transfer such an odor to my hands- mainly my right hand- so what is the deal? yes, my left hand is free of the smell completely- i just got a clear sniff. that leads me to believe- since i am right handed- it is going to be located somewhere to the right of my body. i just checked my crotch again with my left hand to be sure- it is definitely not my crotch. and we all knew it wouldn't be because my pussy area is not to the right of my body, plus i already checked it. oh but my hand stinks. not like a pussy tho- so i dunno why i even checked there in the first place. it was just a thought i suppose. the only thing left to do is get up and wash my hands- both of them- even the one that isn't stinking yet. i cant seem to adjust to the smell of the one that is. it's simply horrible. if i could stop bringing it up to my nose to see if it was still smelling- that would prolly help- but again- here it comes now- and it does still smell. i wish i knew what i had stuck my hand into.

the skanks are back

dear bygoons are bygoons,

maturity comes with age. i told my friend that years ago when she was all pissed off at, rachael, one of our friends for some stupid shit she done. both of them needed to take a step back and learn from what happened. maybe they both have. we getta see at work tonite- both of them are gunna be together again for the fist time in ages. i am excited to see rachel, she always was a favorite of mine- i think she's funny as shit- for a white girl. she is a skinny little bitch- or she was- hard tellin what she looks like now. omg- her kids are freaking crazy cute. her youngest loved me- but her oldest was scared to fucking death of me. i never did anything to her. the minute she would see me she'd start that screaming and crying shit- it would drive me nuts. leave that one at home for fucks sake. she never did. i am eventually gunna have to brush my hair and get dressed. my jeans are at my head behind me. becky's eye is much better today and the spaghetti was good with the ground chuck that i thawed out putting on her eye. fucking i hate it when the time isn't on the cable box- someone left the channel on 619- watching mtv again- i hate that channel. 624 is way better. well-- off to find my hairbrush. becky carried it off again. the skank.

the re-do

dear all i wanna do diary,

forgive me but, i want to eat a bowl of frosted flakes with chocolate milk and bananas and sit indian style on the floor and watch captain caveman right in front of the tv until mom gets up and comes downstairs and yells at me for being to close to the tv set. then i wanna get in trouble for spillin milk on the carpet. then i wanna have to go to my room and find my other shoe. then i wanna have to cry and throw a fit cuz i cant get the knot out of the shoe lace. then i wanna almost get grounded for being late. then i want my brother to laugh at me as he runs out the door on time. then i want my mom to have to take me to school cuz i didn't want to walk anyway. then i want to kiss my mom before i get out of the car.

my turn in the bed

dear no games diary,

i told you i couldn't play no games tonite- that i was going to bed- and when i went and laid my flat dumb ass down- that is exactly what i did. fighting for silence in my home tho- is beginning to severely piss me off- i can not put into words how it makes me feel at all. when a movie or tv commercial becomes a part of my dream- it adds content to them i cant control and it becomes a scary scene. people start appearing who i don't know and taking me to places i didn't want to go. i don't like the tv on whenever i am sleeping- because the programming that is on will end up in my dream creeping. i suppose it's only fair since i do that in real life- but that bitch told the court he was with his cuntface wife. i wish in my next house to not have a big tv in my room. that will take care of my problem- but it prolly wont be so soon. meanwhile i fight to turn this fucker off- or just get up and sleep during the day.

no alarms

dear missing something diary,

when i don't wake up in the middle of the night- i miss hearing the trains go by. i miss hearing my neighborhood wake up. but it wasn't hard sleeping throughout the night tho- i haven't done it for quite some time. it was strange waking up with such a lapse of time. i was shocked to see the clock past five already- my favorite day and not a thing to celebrate yet again on its arrival. i did not wake up hungry today- a plus- and my headache ain't back with me that i went to bed with-HIP HIP- wait there is something to celebrate afterall- my bad. i like getting up in the middle of the night and when i don't- i feel like i have missed out on my time, i like it when it is quiet and dark and cold and i am alone and the dogs are asleep and i can get the grump's butthole off my arm. plus, i'll be awake all fucking day now prolly.  

behold........

dear fucking take me to that place again diary,

ima be late you know. you're back you see. or i see you are. fuckit. down with the bloody big head. what is the most convenient for you? are you off your chestnut? what happened that day was an effort to save your own skin? what's wrong with you? you used to be the life of the party. on that day- silent as a lamb. ahh- the knife. drink this quickly- the witch is coming. i cannot stay with you late tonite. i must be let out of here. you are of course my favorite lunatic, but i am looking for the girl. the girl with the name of twinkle. has twinkle been here in a spell? or has she left you alone in your hell. alone to rot again it is plain to see- i won't be visiting you- in your mad hatter's hat- you will or might get clocked with a wooden ball bat. i am not saying anything- put it out of your mind- it is all about you- you know- sleep- you couldn't if you wanted to- you're not the same as you were before- you've lost your muchness. don't even be sad- raise up your glass to be had- fill it with water to pour over your head- and write with your pencil of broken lead. wash the louse from your hair- be kind to them- they liked it there- your skin is so pleasant and full of life- oh you must now return TO YOUR CUNTFACE WIFE 

catholics can be mean

dear st. peter's square diary,

as the body of the pontiff passed by, the mourning period began. one billion catholics crying over their dead leader. i remember when dude died too- my cousin tammy had a baby within an hour of his death and would you know that lil fucker came out looking just like the pope? i shit you the fuck not. catholic people have cool traditions. some of what they believe is hard to grasp- being raised methodist- but the incense burning and all the chants and rituals and repetition- it's all pretty cool. taking a lighter to church was always fine with me. i always liked going to a catholic high school tho, especially interacting with the nuns. they were not very accepting of me- but i wasn't very respectful yet- as that part of me remained undeveloped until around my sophomore year. i got tired of detentions and essays. after i learned you could get more with honey than shit and salt- it was easier to get up in the mornings. my 'older' boyfriend on his obnoxious motorcycle and my insistence on wearing miniskirts on the back of it always drew attention before and after school when he dropped me off and picked me off with a long french kiss- at the front doors- every single day. sometimes he even came at lunch. sometimes he would just drive down water street during class and do wheelies to make me laugh. then sister mary would slam the windows shut and the class would let out a roar and sister mary would steady glare at me as if i was some kind of whore. 

figuring things out

dear pick and choose diary,

you butt fucker. that's what i get called. fuck you. and your mom too. free is better. say something else and see what i do. sit. stay. fucking dont move. men never really love you- they just want stuff from you. so why would you treat an animal the way he does- i'm talkin about 'sit. stay. fucking don't move.' what could he want from an animal? wasnt i the 'butt fucker?' i will never figure the unibomber out. but then is he a man?

signing up like the bathwater told me to

dear what if waking up is all we had diary,

i am like a pilot now. i have to clock so many hours in production before i am recognized and accredited in  the WGA and fuckit if ima long way away. i bet to some- that shit comes so quickly- but for me- it ain't. nothing ever comes quick for me- except the city employee. he did. if only my boots could talk. i think the water that left my bath was thinking again tonite. it was thinking about how lucky it was to be drawn and chosen to soak the grime and filth off my stinky feather covered body. i still haven't ditched my blanket yet- but it's goin. it will be nice not having feathers in my smart bathwater. all kidding aside, these last few months writing for 914 i have learned allot. not only have i learned about the business and its business side, i have learned about myself on the inside and there major components to them both- both can be so remote.  

domestic violence- start to finish

dear black tie event diary,

becky has a puffy eye. she and the grump were playfighting and it escalated and now she has the eye deal. i made him stand in the corner for a minute but he does not understand. i put a pound of frozen ground chuck on her eye but all she wants to do is sniff the package. she slept good during our nap- so she's not in any pain- but her upper eye lid is swollen- and her little skin is broken. i'd kill the grump if i could get away with it- but i'd be sad in an hour. i'll telll you what- these two are worse than my children ever were. she looks all beat up now and abused. i hope dogs and family services doesn't come to investigate. i don't have all their toys clean- and the sheets on their crib haven't been changed for a month. they will take them away from me- i bet. our nap was unbelievable. everyone piled in the bed, even the grump got in on the action and laid his goofy ass the right way. nobody farted- it was nice. i never woke up once. i didn't dream either- that i know of yet- if i did- it was a silent dream. i like those- it's like finally getting to rest. my ringer on my phone is off- but nobody called. i accidentally sent my dad a text message today. oh shit. worse- the message was ABOUT HIM. hopefully he wont read it. at least it wasn't a penis picture- right?

pup smear

dear wishing well diary,

here we go again. the grump has his butthole lined up perfectly on my arm. wow. he must love the way it feels resting on my sleeve like that because that's where he always seems to keep it. i don't get that. i mean why? and someone explain why his tail doesn't stay covering the area. it clearly moves over to allow the whole hole to be exposed on my arm. then he farts. i have mentioned this before, i know i have- but it's the freckles that bother me. they still resemble shitflakes- but they don't come off. when he moves or wiggles- then his butthole gently rubs on the fabric of my sleeve or worse- on the skin of my arm. i keep baby wipes next to the bed and couch anymore for when he does this- but it is still annoying and very uncomfortable for me. there is no repositioning his ass either. he knows where it goes i suppose.

rough mourning

dear exchange diary,

the exchange last night gave me weird dreams of swallowing glass and another flying dream of sorts. i took that as a warning- got up once and checked my throat. the glass- stuck there- unwilling to budge- the panic strung high- this of course in my dream yet- as when i got up for real- looking in my throat- i could see nothing and the panic had left as well- but my heart was beating faster than normal as i ran to the bathroom mirror. it seemed so real- it did. but it wasn't. later on the front door woke me up. someone loved me? oh fuck. there was nothing hanging on my door today- nothing thrown in the yard- i asked the unibomber when he came inside. "just the note from the fed ex guy, why?" he asked, i didn't reply. i was still halfway asleep you see, barely able to comprehend- but i understood his answer- i will never ask again. i rolled on over- not wanting to get up- but it didn't look promising- sleeping anymore- so i gave up. i don't know but i've been told and i need to be told some more, i am nothing to anyone but a stupid whore. and the sooner that sinks into my thick fucking skull, the sooner we can move on with things and get on to what is real. i seem to hold on to shit that is worthless in so many ways- yes i seem to hold on to shit for too many days. in fact, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into years, and pretty soon i've dedicated half my life to tears. i am not going to cry anymore- just because i am tired. that would be like crying everytime someone gets fired. i am only crying because i mourn a loss of what i remember to be my friend- i am only crying because i know i near the end. when i turn my project in to 914- he will turn around and want me to do more and more. i am going to do them- but the content is going to change- it hurts to keep doing the same old things. either that- or he's gunna have to pay me more- cuz i am still a whore.

don't wake me up unless you love me

dear long day ahead diary,

it's either gunna be a long day or a short day. if i sleep all day- it will be a short day. i hope it's a short day, that is unless, it is a magical long day. i haven't had one of those in a long time. my furnace keeps kickin on and makin me hot as a clam. ick. i ain't a seafood lover. i got becky and the grump completely up my ass- steady here all night poking me. i waited for one of them to go claim my territory in the bed- neither ever did. speak of the devil- there went becky now- she'll be back tho- i believe she got down to itch. and she's back. i know my girl. maybe it's time to get a life. you think? nah, i partial to this one. sitting here i am less likely to hurt myself- or others, and more likely to be constructive- right? yup. besides, doing this actually helps me with my project- which i am almost done with YAY and when that is done- i am going to take a well deserved break and try and think up some new upcoming projects that jenne and i can work on together. bouncing ideas off of her is like throwing lunchmeat into a cooler full of stagnate water- but she is supposed to be talented. as i am sure her blogs say the same about me. actually i don't care if she even has a blog- or maybe subconsciously i do care and i just am unwilling to cope with it. fuck her anyway- she is younger than me- prettier than me- and more people prolly have fucked her than me. that's why she has the job she has- i concluded that the day i met her. whore. i just dont know who is fucking her yet because i haven't been there long enough to tell and i dont think i have met him/her yet. so. ima try to go to bed before it gets any fucking later than it already fucking is. fuck.

william street

dear two doors down diary,

it makes me laugh when i remember that time when we lived in our old house and the fuse box caught on fire and everyone said i had my 220v dildo plugged in and it burned up the wiring. it did suck that our whole house filled with smoke and the babies were just little and it was freezin cold outside and we had marty- the asshole dog- who hated men in uniforms. i dont know what ever in the world caused that precious dog to be like that- but he hated cops, mailmen, the schwan man, and fireman- all the same. he hated my landlord too, but that was cool with me. my landlord had a hair lip and always wanted to thin the paint when he painted. i'd be like- wtf? it ain't even thick- he'd thin it. i'd say fuck it and paint the shit when he'd leave again. then he would come back the next day and be like, "see- that paint covered just fine after i thinned it," it sure the fuck did. whatever- i am the one who had to look at the shit- i said fuck it and painted it right. that landlord was an idiot anyway. ida bought that house if he'da sold it to me- but he wanted to wait til he couldn't get anything for it- then sell it. i'm glad i didn't end up with it anyway- or i'd still be living there now. i saw him the otherday and he didn't even know who i was. but i knew the hair lip mother fucker as soon as he spoke to me. i bet he still thins the paint.

dribble to france

dear slam it shut diary,

i cant believe how many people in france are reading my drivel now SHOUT OUT FRANCE i think i know where france is at. france even. wow. trips me out. you can see my underpants. why tho? really? ain't you guys scared? i just want to let you guys know over there that i am not an accurate description of what would be considered 'normal' over here. not right now anyway. i mean if you were to see me walking along a roadside- i would blend in somewhat- but- really- my viewpoints and ways of seeing things currently are not so much like others around my same peer age. i am one pissed off bitch- but it is so focused. i am only angry at one person- it's totally insane. i have come to terms with all other feelings of regret- and disappointment and and find myself hanging on to that one last vein of hatred- i don't think i will ever let go of. it is just to fun. i need that to keep me young and inspired- and driven. sometimes it slips to the back of my mind- this intense passion of despise- but it never leaves me- it burns within my soul- causing me to create- and pursue my goals every moment of every day- never stopping for even a second. a constant push from the ugliest face i have ever laid eyes upon- pushing- pushing-pushing- me to the rainbow- making me reach for the gold. i have help now. i saw the light at the end of the tunnel. and i thank Jesus in the sky for 914 and my supporters. but france. you make me do a monkey dance.

i am really up

dear thinking about a bath right now diary,

deciding whether or not to take a bath- i could just flip a coin. there is one right here too, but why not be an adult about things and just do it. i want to. i should. i even have nice warm jammies dryin right now. omfg the 3am train is early as fuck today- it's only 2:25. someone fucked up. people keep asking why i keep a bra by my front door in a ziplock baggie. it has been there since last march. i'll be glad to tell you and anyone else who wants to know- it's for when the cops come and take me to jail. i ain't goin without a bra this time. fuck all that. if you look real close there are panties and my medication administration video layin there too- and a note from my neurologist sayin i need two mattresses and i have to wear a t-shirt and be as far away from the tv as possible- it scares me. you cant have underwires in your bras- so that's good to know. maria keeps asking if she can put it back in my room in my underwear/sock picnic basket- but i always tell her the same thing, "no." i want it right there where i know where it is. at all fucking times. when i go to jail next time tho- i'll be in my boots. that fucking train is loud- ima tail you what. it's a ways away from here too. i hear it every night. any closer to that sucker it would be like living by the hairport.

report issues

dear not dreaming yet diary,

laying in bed makes me realize- i am prolly still alive. because i am awake. which is in itself torture. because i don't want to be awake. but now my mind is lurking down the empty halls where nobody else wants to go- and i am the only one left in there- the only one left to watch the show. it fascinates me to wonder why i do this to myself- pull out the same old book off the dusty shelf. i read that bitch over and over again- page after crumby page- knowing what the outcome will be- it doesn't change with age. i wrote that book i keep reading- that is the kicker of it all- sometimes i play shuffleboard down the empty halls. everytime i read it- i want to change a line- but it's already printed- to late to change my mind. sometime maybe i could write a new book- a happy book this time- one with less dust and dirt on it- and no changes of any kind. maybe someday we will sit together on a hillside somewhere and both have laptops and begin writing there. you're book will be filled with much more life experience than mine- for you make more sense with your fancy complete edjumacated sentences and all that terrific shit. my book will be filled with more nonsense drivel like you see here. but at least i will have something else to read when you're not there.  

a gift certificate

dear just do what i tell you and shut up then diary,

wearing gloves to avoid fingerprints and a mask over your face- triple dog dare you to leave cotton candy at my place. i would take a picture and post in on here- you better believe it will be on here for years. there i go- writing a scene for the movie again- fucker is long enough without adding anything else in. my mind needs to stop and i try to get it to relax- i see a psychiatrist- but the help never lasts. i need a tropic vacation, where the sun fries my face- and i need to go where clothing is optional to minimal- the perfect resort place. just as long as they have wi-fi- i will post on my blog once per day- i will get dressed for an hour maybe- then take it all off for the rest of the day. and i will make an exception and violate my court supervision and smoke marijuana until i get on the plane and come home- at which time i will extinguish all smoking material and buckle my lap restraint.

my strongest defense

dear cherry/grape juice diary,

omg. its so damn good. i'll drink that whole jug in a day prolly. i miss sno-cones. my mom made good sno-cones. we had the snoopy sno-cone machine for a while- but we wore it out. mom made ours with the blender. i never could understand how it was mom was able to make such fantastic sno-cones when she made such sucky kool-aid. you never wanted to drink my mom's kool-aid that she rarely made, unless you distracted her while she was making it. if you could get her to put it down half way thru adding the water- it turned out perfect. i swore when i grew up- i was NOT going to make sucky kool-aid- and i don't. everybody loves my kool-aid. it'll make your mouth squirt. i do not fuck around. we don't drink kool-aid around here very much- but when we do- it's a fucking treat. i wish that when you gave me those flowers i would have never thrown them into the back seat.

84 year old woman on a moped

dear donit suck you can't flag my blog diary,

doesn't it freak you out that these postings keep appearing like from nowhere and shit? it does me. sometimes i read them myself and i am like, "holy fucking batshit- this bitch is crazy as fuck," and then it hits me- oh fuck- i wrote that shit. what the fuck was i on that day? NOTHING. that is what's even worse. i can't even look and read it and go, "oh yeah- man that was some good ass weed that day man," because the ratbastards took that from me. really, it was my choice, i don't think ima get dropped on conditional court supervision discharge or what the fuckever i am on, but you just never know. little cuntface bitch got me convicted on some shit i didn't do in the first place- so anymotherfuckingthing is possible. actually i am proud of my newest conviction, i think its fucking hilarious. when i tell you what i got convicted of- you just cant help but laugh. honestly- it is the first thing i tell people when i introduce myself now. "hello, i am a whore, and i got convicted of violating an order of protection a fireman has against me. i am a bad ass bitch." it is a real conversation starter. a fireman- someone who runs into burning buildings- is scared of me. then when you start filling them in with the specific details of my case- nobody believes me. i have to get out the papers. then the pictures. then the transcripts. there will be a movie made- i promise. the shit is way tooooo fucking good for hollywood to pass up.

hand on the big book

dear once upon a time diary,

there was a day- not so long ago- when i knew a whore who would have hidden all day tomorrow and not answered her phone and not acted like she was home and who would have been unavailable all day long. she would have closed all of her curtains and went and got in the closet when someone came to the door- this is what the whore went through- once upon a time- no so long ago. some might say this whore took things to the outer limits of the extremes- i think this comes from years of living with someone who was very mean, but the whore knew what she had to do- the visitor wouldn't get the clue- he never did what he said he would do- so the whore just tucked herself away- every two days. then after a while the whore got replaced- but the whore didn't know it- she just thought he'd ended the chase. she thought all was well- he'd stayed in hell, to live with cuntface in their marriage castle. he started up his games again- tugged at the whore's heart- the whore sharpened up her daggers and threw a dart. then the cop told her about his new lover in clinton- how they were looking at houses- he was a father to her children. oh wow- the whore was mortified and felt like a slut, she saw cuntface out in public and wanted to apologize. she wanted to explain how wrong she had been, and tell old cunface it would never happen again. the whore thought cuntface deserved to know- everything her husband did- she had a right to know- all of the diseases he'd exposed her and her family to- the whore wanted a clean conscious- but clearly there was nothing to do. spending the next year in court, the whore was convicted. the whore even almost went to jail- but the judge- he listened. the cuntface looked very stupid- many many times- and even brought her friend to court with her that slept with her husband- julie- a couple of times. cuntface never once saw the whore without a great big smile. and her husband always had sad puppy dog eyes when he looked across the isle. all the whore could ever think about was the smell of his skin- that was until she remembered where else it had been. he had made a promise to the whore a long time ago. he would send a moving van and then the whore would know. it was really time to make the break and do whatever had to be done- but the whore lost faith in that dream and she moved on. now all that really matters- is keeping those daggers sharp- the whore has spectacular aim now- they go right through the heart. she has become cold and wise now- unafraid of much it is true, but i don't think she's done yet. nope. she ain't done with you.

sleeping for a few

dear fortunate daughter diary,

the bed is ready. becky is ready. dinner was ready and i ate it already. the milk was cold. i have to be somewhere later tonite- so i just cant bed down permanently- but that's ok- i am craving grape/cherry juice anyway- so while i am out- ima get some of that shit. high dollar craving too- fucking might as well drink some damn alcohol beverages. i could catch a quick nap tho- and then come home and finish her up. i might have to- cuz i am about beat. it doesn't take much to wipe me out. half an hour of awake time and i've about had it. well- ima whisk myself away on the wings of love into the bed. alarm set for 730.

granola is for the weak

dear boiling bunnies diary,

what exactly does that mean? what's the deal here. well, i am still awake and preparing to eat this fine meal before me. turkey sausage and biscuits with fake syrup and whole milk. for some reason the real maple syrup doesn't taste good with turkey sausage- not like it does with bacon or pork sausage. i just love syrup. i could eat it with about anything- i think. i dunno- it compliments eggs and ham and even gravy. mmm. there is nothing better than green beans and eggs and syrup tho- not much anyway- that i can think of anyways. except french fries and a chocolate milkshake. everything i've lived for in my life comes down to that first bite of a biscuit and that first drink of cold milk. oh yummy. putting it all together it makes sense. this is why i am here. this and cashews.

fiddle with my griddle

dear eye for one diary,

have two eyes, in my name and everything. trixie. sea? come with me- to the sea- so i can drown you in it. i am now bored to tears. tears of fears. the phonecalls are pouring in- i am not going to work tonite. it doesn't matter how much sleep i get- i am still tired. i know it's a safe day- you do not have to remind me- but i am not getting dressed. i am making dinner- its a bad romance. i hope a new good wife is on tonite. that and clean sheets- i will be complete. the floor is clean- the washing machine- my deadline- and naptime- all in a row. i'll fly away- in the morning- i'll fly away. maybe not tomorrow but in a day that is close by, i'll fly away. besides, thursday is coming again soon- and you know how i feel about that day. tomorrow i shall go to monticello for bonnie's chicken salad croissant and pie- ah yes, time for a flight to the square.

what a rip off- ima post on angie's list

dear two PM here and gone diary,

man i cant do shit. maria didn't make anything for dinner. all she did was the kitchen and the bathroom and took her money and left. no extras today. fuck it. she didn't fold the towels or nothing. i hate my life. i coulda done that shit. i mean really. i ain't complaining but wtf. i guess i am a little. ok she ran the sweeper in the front room- but she sure didn't change my sheets or prince harry's sheets or start any laundry or nothing like she usually does. she didn't even fill up the dishwasher tablet container that's sitting empty and i know there is a whole new box under the sink. she didn't dust either and she always does that after she vacuums. and my boots aren't organized at all. there was mail all sticking out of the mailbox- and i bet you she didn't do my tub either. the garbage had already been taken out. the more i think about it- i dunno why she even came today. ima go back to bed and hopefully when i wake up somebody will have taken care of all this nonsense. people shouldn't have to live like this.

go away

dear maid service diary,

i had the do not disturb sign hanging on the door, but maria came in anyway because it wasnt locked. she has a key, but she wont use it- unless i am 'missing' she says- i am never missing. where would i go and who would miss me. i buffed down my nails again to the dull- and i hate it when i do that shit but i did it again. now there is no shine to them and they're ugly and i have to work for them to be pretty again. i am not in the mood to do anything. i have a deadline and i am almost finished but not quite. my next project is on stalking, imagine that, some people have a knack for writing about nature and cooking or babies and children, mine seems to be stalking and whores- right now anyways. i change topics at random, but i've been stuck on this one for a minute. 914 said the appetite for what i write is constant and he will always have a place for it. remembering what i learned in school- prostitution and sex involved trades are the oldest forms of professions.

dumbells and chicken wraps

dear be strong it wont be long diary,

i have to say this, my foot is asleep. i am very happy with the way things are, but, there is that word again, but, i need to get rid of a few extra things. i have to much. some people always want more, i want less. i want to live with only what i must have. i would like to find my center. that was what i was most looking forward to about moving away for awhile. my mind is so rich and full with memories- i don't need to touch the things i own. not for awhile anyways. then when i come home, maybe it will feel right again and not so much like a prison. is today the day? prolly not. it wont be tomorrow either. but, that word again, time keeps on tickin-tickin-tickin- into the future.

back to school

dear shaking ground diary,

i wouldn't know how to act if the ground started to quake. what would you do? there would be nowhere to run. i should study more of world geography so i would know where these places are- i have no idea where new zealand is- but it can not be that far. the world is not that big you know- not that big at all, what happens across the water from us- may as well happen to us all. with all the wars and chaos- people don't understand- they just keep on fighting and sacrificing our lives over there in the sand. with all the killing money that's been spent- we could have fed those starving nations- or maybe sent them medical supplies to keep people from suffering and disease from spreading. educating people would go along way- before shooting them in their heads- or storming into their makeshift homes and killing them in their beds. watching the news makes me realize how lucky we are over here. when will our luck run out?

i wish i was awake- for real tho

dear change in my pocket diary,

what do; david duchovny, drew carey, guitars. mushrooms, tall trees, beautiful grass- have in common? they were all in my dream last night. hanging out with those two dudes- so cool. being one of the guys- pretty fucking awesome. either they were unknowns or i was somebody cuz nobody was special in my dream- i mean i wasn't beggin for an autograph- and neither were they- for that matter. just shootin the shit and laughing. i dunno, if you're gunna dream, you might as well dream big. i used to dream about president bill clinton allot. i had a major crush on him for a minute- till the whole monica ordeal. i had a dream only ONCE about george W. and it was more about a nightmare than an actual dream. i think my psyche knows better than to dream about obama- because he looks just like my brother- except a few shades darker. the smile on my face this morning is ear to ear. i feel stupid when i wake up like this. ima go back to bed and see if there is a part two.

happy birthday to the cuntface in a month and a day

dear i can't wait for the bitch to be forty six diary,

soon cuntface will be forty six- and that happens to be my favorite number. it has been so very good to me lately too, i cant help but wonder why. forty one blessed me bigtime on new years eve, i really do need to get that other blog done don't i? it will be fun to bring it all up to where this one began. ima hafto admit tho, refraining from calling forty six, 'my baby' will be fucking HARD to do for a whole gawd dang year. i know ima slip up. i think it would be best to just not call it anything at all. that's pretty much what we've been doing with fifty six. it's not really 'digger' to much anymore. but you better believe forty one is still the 'fag.' thirty nine is still 'johnboy,' and four is still the 'whore,' and fifty two will forever be the 'stupid number.'

reasons to stay in jail

dear sometimes its like i am in jail diary,

i am doing my time here, but there are no bars on the windows and the doors are not locked. the 3am train is on time tonight, and i can eat whatever i want. there is nothing on tv- and i can turn the channel and see, but there is still nothing on the tv- nothing for me. i have paid for the internet all these years- gosh since 2001 when i got sentenced to live here, and i used it in 2005 for a month or two- and just started using it again last september. it became a method of venting for me- but i didn't want to make any friends this time, i only wanted to record my thoughts and organize them and possibly make a dime. writing is a quieter and much safer form of communication for me because when i speak i tend to get very loud. then it becomes an audition of sorts, then a full blown performance- if you're lucky- then an encore presentation, then we go home and have sex- and i fall in love- then you hate me- then your wife hates me- then the court papers come and all that shit.... so i don't leave the house anymore. i stay at home and do this. everyone else just continues on and gets to talk their shit. don't get me wrong there are things i still do- i am just very well protected. at work there are cops and cameras and rosa and my crew who would never leave me neglected. even while stawking there is a whole load mocking every sound i make. all making sure my intentions are pure and i have a reason to be on surveillance.

VOTE FOR TRIXIE!!

dear it ain't the way that you use it diary,

boy- don't you know. so don't you ever refuse it. i wont be refusing mine. ima get me one of the free 65 gallon recycle carts from the city. especially since they're reducing the garbage pickup to once a damn week. i used to recycle like a son of a bitch when we lived in the country- even before then- but after we moved in where i am now- it sucked because they were never consistent with the pickup and storing the shit another week sucks. but hail to the yeah, a new cart- no sorting- with a lid- i'm all about some of that. i am voting for bozo tomorrow. i wonder how many others will write his name in there too. i dare people to write TRIXIETHEWHORE on the ballot. i would love to see my name on the news. you better use my real name tho so the judges here in macon county will be able to identify me- put TRIXIE WEST up in there. that oughta get them tickin.

loosie juicy sweat pants

dear residential diary,

did i break your concentration? take a ritalin. i finally met my neighbor who lives next door to me in my dream whila go. he was very nice and seems familiar in some intimate way. i liked his big sleigh bed. it is just like mine- i saw it through his open door when he went back in his house. i was myself and he wasn't scared. that is the kind of man i need right there. time to wake up. most men are genetically programmed to be pathetic jerks. i know this because they all are. im surprised more women don't understand this and aren't complaining about it. its all in what you'll tolerate- who you end up with in a lifetime mate. i know to look more than esthetics and sex now- cuz that shit ain't so great. i want someone who is just like me. fun and laid back and excited to see- things that are new and  funny and sweet- and things that are worthy of our time to creep. i like to think about things that are corny and i want to fuck allot when i get horny, and i want to lay around and talk for hours- and then go drive around and stawk after our bubble bath or hot steamy shower. i want someone who has a sense of humor- someone who will tickle me and chase me around- someone i can knock to the ground. yep. sign me up for all the above. then file the papers.

dear abby

dear no complaints diary,

looking back over things i really have to say, with the exception of the cuntface i have no complaints to date. none i would be able to list on the screen or spell out or say out loud, the dumb mistakes i have made in my life- sure there are some i ain't so proud. but i would do all those again- each one of them- including and up to the ones i've made today- but omg that cuntface error i made in judgement- wow- it will never go away. ADVICE COLUMN:

don't ever try to apologize to an almighty female GOD, for she will stick your belittling words into the muddy sod. her golden pussy is beyond what anyone can imagine, and her wrath of power is more that anyone can fathom. this ugly woman has strings and conditions that make her evil to the core, and that is why her husband turned to the loving arms of the whore.

pearly whites- deeper bites

dear what a drastic way to say i love you diary,

oh my God would you please quit licking the floor already. all i want to do is go back to bed but i have to shake my blanket out again because the grump has mud all up in his paws everytime he jumps up on my cover and its a damned sandbox. ima kill him one of these days. i really am. if he don't just up and die first. but then i look at his big head and i am like, "oh wow, you really are a canine masterpiece," and i kiss him abruptly- he growls- and then i punch his head. i never punch him hard tho- even tho he could take it. sometimes i just grab his whole nostril and wad it up and suck the air from it. all before he can react. he don't do shit but sit there and take it like a man. then i let him go real fast and he will hump me or grab my leg with his paw. or block me from going anywhere- he likes doing that shit. he is retarded. the unibomber says i abused him when he was a puppy, but i never did. i just constantly fucked with him, babied him, razzled him, taught him things, talked to him, treated him, praised him and loved him. he is part human because of me. that ain't abuse. he has never worn a collar. never been tied to a tree. never spent a night outside. never been away from me. he loves me and i understand that- even when he shows his teeth.

i'll kiss you once even if you're ugly

dear walking down the street diary,

if you have never walked down the street and someone hasn't hollered at you then you have missed out on one of the greatest feelings in the world. i'll tell you what, i like that feeling, so i try to holler at even the ugliest mother fuckers working along the roadways just to make them feel special. now you know that some of them are so but ass ugly- they know they ain't getting yelled at. and i think that is what happens to guys with tiny dicks. women who fall into the unfortunate situation of hooking up with a small penis- they try and make the best of a bad thing- and tell the guy how big it is. it's part of the underground sexual socialization. and it's comes from the purest of intent- and it really works in the heat of the moment- but it fucks all future women down the line. and here is why, after a few times with a selection of women, all telling him the same thing, how large his member is, the man with the small penis is going to start believing his penis is in fact big. then, for unknown reasons to the overly attractive man, he cant keep a woman- and begins to advertise on craig's list and even posts pictures of his 'large' dick. then he meets that one special girl- who has been wanting a nice small penis her whole life. and what does he do? fuckin throws it all away. what a shame.

look to the east

dear make it easier on a dumb bitch if you could diary,

look, i know i should have to work for it, afterall it cost me out the ass, and i am bound by the court of law to keep this under the vest. but things have really changed on my side and there's shit people don't even know, there are places i cant get to but i need your help to go. it would help if you parked your vehicle a little closer to where i could see it from the main road. also, if you could open your windows more, rosa thinks she can see you, but she isn't sure. i want to move away soon, but things are going ok here- sending my projects via email seems to be working out in a tremendous fashion- so moving myself and becky and my plants doesn't seem like putting my heart worth a smashing. not just yet anyways- i ain't ready for those days- where the winds of change to change things, one step at a time- each day that is yet mine- for fame has yet to find me. i poke my head into the light- and pull it back in just because of the fright- and then bask in my own delight. it is fun to sit and watch the stir and watch what i've almost become. but one of these days i will go one step to far- just like 914 has warned me, and then it will be to late to come back to a place where nobody knows me. it's not like i haven't done this before- afterall- i am a whore.

swinging a trumpet

dear run for the roses diary,

i fucking love dan fogelberg. i would appreciate it if that just stays here on this page- but i like his music- his lyrics are fucking heartfelt and squeeze me right down to the inner core. his music makes me want to fry chicken in the magic skillet. i think it is the trumpet that gets me. i want to go fishing this spring too. but i still cant touch the worm, so i'll either use bologna or bread rolled up. sometimes i am such a girl it pisses me off. oh my God- such a girl. causing pain makes me pass out. i couldn't even spank the kids. if i were a serial killer- well- i'd get caught after the first one- because i would lose consciousness- prolly before my victim was dead. it's like this defect i have. i dunno what it is- i was born with it. i cant give the dogs shots or anything. i cant give people shots either- like insulin- or watch iv's get started or blood drawn. oh it is very entertaining to watch me go down- i am sure- but it's not so fun waking up on the floor and filling out the accident report. i can swing my fucking fists tho- hail to the yes. i guess my brain knows i ain't gunna do nothing but break a nail doin all that.

smashing pumpkins or dead prezidents

dear dead presidents diary,


it was so nice of you to claim your place in history and allow us to have the day off to meditate. i for one had the best dream ever- full of relaxation and colors rarely ever seen or felt in my dreams. my left hand is itching like mad- fucking mad. we need more holiday's in march. i have my own personal few, but the public needs more than st. patrick's day. we need a holiday where the mail doesn't go and the kids are out of school. march is a long month- in the 31 club. i know spring starts in march- on destiny's birthday- SHOUT OUT DESTINY- and usually the tulips start pokin through- i love my black tulips- you got cuntface's birthday- SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE- and the city employee's birthday- SHOUT DOWN CITY EMPLOYEE- and tt's birthday- SHOUT OUT 'TT'- and my brother's ex 'dks' SHOUT OUT DKS- who i miss and love very much even still. ooh i just remembered i have a salad in the fridge. oh my- SHOUT OUT TO THE SALAD IN MY FRIDGE.

tracers at the waterfall

dear shut up dog diary,

the grump keeps whining at my face. i don't know what he wants and it is driving me bananas. it is distracting me to the point where i am about to take tylenol and start swinging. he needs a bath. oh my. oh me oh my oh. we gotta go on the be oh down the by oh. guess what else i found out. bunches of y'all are reading my blog in the united kingdom. where is that at? i used to watch a show on the tv when i was a kid called THE WILD KINGDOM so every time i see UNITED KINGDOM i think of that show. i know that sounds dumb, but i never left this country yet, except in 1995 when i went to niagra falls (which for my whole life until 1995 i thought was in brazil) i slipped into canada for about an hour and a half and had a hell of a time getting back in to the USA at our PRE 9-11 border, ain't that some NEW YORK SHIT. and had they of found the tiny pin joint in my wallet- i would prolly STILL be in federal prison- for fucks sake. i told you guys, palm of the favored. that is why i hurried back to the hotel and ate those hits of acid PRONTO.

should have eaten another apple (i guess)

dear seeing a specialist diary,

it is going to come down to where i am gunna have to see the hiccup specialist for these sporadic onset cases of the hiccups. i woke up again at 5AM with them and i wasn't eating. drinking, or anything one would assume would generate the hiccups. i had them yesterday, during the day, twice. once after a drink of pop, and once after i hurried and ate a bite of steak. those two incidents of hiccuping were rationalized in my brain- due to the circumstances surrounding the onset, but now after the third time- i don't know anymore. i keep getting blindsided with these terrible predicaments- irregardless of the time or the situation- it seems. which brings me to the next pending question, i wonder what kind of doctor specializes in the recovery and diagnosis of hiccuping?

driving in style

dear driving my firebird last night diary,

i know why i dreamed i drove my firebird around- it is because i pulled up next to it last night and was looking at it and the man who was driving it thought i was looking at him- but when i smiled and kept looking at the car- he sped off. there was no way i was chasing him down- it was about time for me to turn off to stawk. i grew out of my firebird. that is why i got rid of it. i had like six of them over my lifetime. i would never go back- but they are fun to look at and remember. i had way to much fun allowed in those cars. my lifestyle has changed to where a firebird just wouldn't fit anymore. i need a four door. even when i am by myself i use the back doors. i put my packages and bags in the backseat- sometimes my purse- its so neat- it keeps everything packed away. two door cars annoy me now and ima do my best to avoid them somehow- if i can- for the rest of my days.

modern primitive prehistoric punks (on vacation)

dear choo-choo diary,

the 3am train just passed. why the need to blow the fucking horn 90 times i wonder? prolly all the traffic i reckon. some people at work last night thought i was their niece named pamela. ive never been a 'pam' before. ive been about everything else tho. i always get called funky names. it is because my biological mother was going to name me barbara. i am really not a barbara. barbara's are quiet and smart and use coupons at the grocery store. i am more of a nadine or a velma. i didn't go ice skating once this year. nor did i get over to danville to do the ice bumper cars either. i already know i prolly wont get an invitation to kate and prince william's wedding- and that's fine- i didn't have a thing to wear. i wouldn't have went anyway. i would have politely declined. i would have had to i am afraid, for I HAVE COURT THE DAY BEFORE AND I FEAR I COULD NOT MAKE IT. i decided anyway, the otherday, friday it was, i am no longer interested in traveling to england anymore. this is due to the savage and primitive concepts mirrored here in our paranoid land, in that people are not free to roam about- up to stonehenge. they have it fenced off and protected from the public. so while we (and the scientific smart community) are all still baffled on how the prehistoric people were able to move those huge rocks the distances they did in the time they did it- we must now fence it off- in case someone brings heavy machinery on vacation with them- and wants to cart one home.

double feature (late mate)

dear hot to the touch diary,

i am burnt up. like a fire. torched with desire. i stood on the corner in the rain. the car passed me by- i coulda stayed in bed warm and dry but instead i stand here and wait. i haven't done this for a few many years and the feeling keeps me young, the only reason i don't use the door is because i like the occasional feeling of being a whore. if i were to get caught- nothing would happen- my neighbor may call later and say, "i didnt know you were still doing that," and i will respond with an answer like this, "oh just every few years- you know how it is, and mind your OWN bizz..." and go on about my day. finally the moment came where i could wait no longer- i was about to give up and come inside- here came the volkswagen jetta rollin up- the dark window rolled down and the sexy ass man told me to get in for a ride. there was money on the console and his pants were to his knees, i told him where to park at- so he could finish changing his pants. it was clear i was going to be able to watch the rest of this process and help if he needed it, but he did fine on his own which was a relief for me. i mean i would have offered a helping hand- had he needed that, but believe me when i tell you- he had it all under cuntroll.

feel the need for weed

dear in the dark diary,

i asked the grump if anyone was here a few minutes ago and got no response, and now he wants to bark after i don't hear anything anymore. asshole. i did think i heard something in the driveway- but it was my imagination again. i have an active imagination. damn active. and the only vitamins i take are vitamin d. i have a major deficiency in the vitamin d area, and yet i drink milk like a freak. i love cheese and sour cream and all that shit- but my little tiny ankles ache and my doc told me my shit was low. when i do the test again- if my levels haven't increased after supplementing the vitamin d- i may have an issue absorbing it. but i dunno what that means yet. all i know is vitamin d has made me feel so much better since ive been on that shit. everyone says it it because i haven't been smoking pot. whatever, or rather, wtfe. clearly pot made me gain weight, i cant keep my pants on. pot curbed my creativity- i never had a blog. marijuana made me a more private person- i never talked about pot- or posted pictures of my old weed on the internet- i was to scared. i never publicly and continuously not had contact in a sober fashion- all while following court orders to do so and had so much fun doing it- in my life ever. i may not ever feel the need for weed again. i am liking this.

slap that ass

dear charcoal diary,

drawing a blank. not naming any names here, but sporting a bush downtown is not healthy for the sporter- or the sportee. with that being said, there is a delicate balance between sculpture and scalping the mound. self induced cock block. i would be embarrassed to sprout my tree with no grass on the hill. especially when the color is so fleshy pink. think about that lucky guy. what is this feeling you're so sure of? what is the down side? put your head in the toilet. where are the turnovers? free toast for a week. i got a surprise for you. where are the knives. got a phone? wanna buy a watch? i believe in a two state solution. just go. take you shitty ass ideas and go home. take matters into your own hands and go home. it's where you want to be. hey i gotta leave in five minutes. you need a positive influence. i should have known something was wrong.

professionals at work

dear have you tried the pro life diary,

hammer down and hands up. we are off to the show. can you show me the way to victory row? that was funny. i woke up from my delightful little nap and it's already just about time to go. all that mcdonalds i ate this morning did not even make me sick. i am really surprised in that- usually it does- so i am impressed. my bath went well- i do not smell like hell- and my crew has begun to call. had i have gotten ready earlier- i would have went out to the mall. i want to get a smaller pair of jeans- these big fuckers keep falling down, i am not used to buying the smaller sizes yet- i am stuck in the fat sizes i am so used to- i guess. i need a single digit size now- omg- who ever thought that would happen- but if i keep gettin elevens- they will keep falling to the ground. i need to get my but in gear before i run out of time. i need to brush my teeth again and make sure they will shine. everything will go according to plan i assume- stawking is on the agenda, then i have to wait til i hear from rosa or brenda.

handy items

dear consumers of qtips diary,

my household uses allot of qtips. another whole box empty in the trash again today. and i will not buy the generic ones either. i think the cardboard wand is important because it needs to bend when you need it to- and the cotton head should break completely off- if necessary. plastic ones, i am sure have a place somewhere- but just not here with me. cardboard wands baby- that's the way we roll at my place. i don't use cotton ballls like i used to, but i do keep them around. i'll tell you what comes in handy. tooth flosser picks. i love those.

martina didnt fuck that up

dear dirty towels diary,

i am about ready to start paying someone to do my laundry now. i can afford it and i have a washer and dryer. omg there is a twitch in my chin- what does that mean i wonder? i should go to work. last time i had a twitch in my eye and i went to work and made allot of money that night. i can't seem to get my laundry done. i can't seem to get my glasses washed. i can't seem to do anything anymore. between posting on my blog and writing that stuff for 914- that's pretty much all i do- oh and work twice a week. sometimes i blog at work. but i never work at work. i take that back, i did once, but 914 didn't like that one much, or as much- he hasn't used it yet anyway- that i know of. it was a hot mess. i should get a fat check this week. well ima watch the daytona and relax in the tub. martina mcbride rocked the national anthem. christina is a tramp.

flippin the bird

dear i think i need to release tension and just snap diary,

keeping things inside is good to an extent, but i have leaves falling off my jade tree and it is pissing me off bad. it needs to be outside. my palm trees are looking ragged with new shoots- go figure- and i dunno- much more of this winter shit and they will all be dead. seems like last year it wasn't nearly as hard on the fuckers as this year- but last year- it was harder on me. last year i had the city employee and his cuntface bride breathing down my neck and over my twat- and this year i getta scream about his little dick and her ugly ass face, and boy oh boy kids, i would puke seeing that during a love making session. when i saw the picture that hung over their fireplace of them together- she looked like his mother. in fact, i screamed out with laughter. i hate people who tell me to be quiet. i can't be quiet. i don't know how. and i am kindof old to be told to be quiet. if i am to loud- just get further away from me- like maybe out of my sight even. like i'll text you later- or better yet- just read my blog. i'll go find a deaf mf- who can hear me just fine.

the weirder the better

dear if i died and woke up a cat diary,

weird things always happen to me. i am just warning you. and now that you are reading my shit- it wouldn't surprise me one little bit if weird things started happening to you either. if they do tho, don't come whining to me about it. i have found that when you are more aware of what you want and how to get it- it is easier to obtain. you gotta have a plan and be willing to modify that plan at any given moment or go back to the original plan whenever you need to. going back to the weird shit- you'll have weird shit with anything- but when you run into some weird shit- you KNOW you're getttin close to the good shit. because the good shit is always surrounded and protected if you will by the weird shit. that is why you will hear me say that i am 'sitting in the palm of the favored,' its because i am, and the hand sits in the center of all the weird shit. i am not scared of the weird shit anymore because i know it leads to the good shit. i embrace the unknown.

don't give me lip

dear i want a leg or an arm diary,

i think i found the unibomber a new girlfriend. the last one he had sucked. i can not say for sure or not because i just thought of it when i woke up. i loaned her a hundred dollars the other day and i plan on making her this once in a lifetime offer- hookup with the unibomber and never pay me pack. simple as that. she is a beautiful woman too. and the unibomber really has a thing for them black girls. she already has been with a white boy too- and she loves it. we could just move him in with her. i know they would have great sex. the unibomber is like a sex machine- he can have excellent sex with anything. he has one setting- perfect. i have always told him that if we could sell that shit- we'd be some rich mother fuckers and i wasn't lying about that. but a person cant fuck him 24 hours a day- and that's where it all goes wrong. what to do with the other 23 hours.

cream in my cornflakes

dear morton's salt diary,

when it rains, it did pour. i kept dry tho. i did not do allot of walking on the streets tonight. rosa was tired. she needed a newport. all i had was a marlboro. i was a marlboro girl at the state fair in 1987. i gave away sample packs of cigarettes all over the fairgrounds- but i also kept more than i gave away. i didn't buy cigarettes until after halloween that year. i met allot of guys that summer too, but i already had a boyfriend and i didnt know about cheating back then. oh if i could turn back time y'all. i'd be a big ole hoe. why not. i was a tease and this time- i would please. i don't know what ima do the rest of the day today. i know what i would like to do if i had only one wish. but i have multiple wishes. i have a whole world of wishes. but i don't want those wishes. i only want one. three years ago today i went to disneyworld and i was so sick. the daytona 500 was going on and it was so dead there- we had the whole park to ourselves, but i was so ill. i spent allot of the day on the phone and blowing my nose and sitting in the sun- wishing tinkerbell would come and grant me one wish. then the next day at cocoa beach- i looked all over for a jeannie in a bottle- for yet another wish- no luck on that either. i believe in magic. i do. i have to. because sometimes there is nothing else to believe in. people suck. you cant believe in anyone but yourself. i learned that the hard way.

i am almost ready for bed

dear it was a surprise i played on myself diary,

have you ever played a trick on yourself? its hard to do- and get away with. but i did it. it is the first time i got away with really surprising myself because i always ruin it before i get to the part where its time for the reveal. oh but not this time. i really pulled it off. i was shocked. i had a dream i was going to do it JUST like that someday- and i did- today. it was fun. i saw my old boss tonight. she asked me if i was working. i told her about new york- but i didn't go into all the details. i couldn't believe she remembered the unibomber. of course, she remembered him as, 'the asshole,' but i assured her we had all done allot of growing up in twenty years. "people can change," i told her and she responded, "everybody but you." fuck if i don't hear that once a week. i think i have changed. i think i am allot smarter and wiser and way more accepting of things than i ever used to be. i don't give a shit about half the things i used to. so here we are at the most bewitching hour- almost 5am. i just ate mcdonalds. i wiped some serious food out. man i am stuffed. pancakes, biscuits and gravy- a side order of eggs, bacon egg and cheese biscuit- spaghetti jar full of milk- all the glasses are dirty- but there was a clean jar. i used it. i save a few of those jars for shit. they come in handy. ima thrifty bitch huh. fifty fucking glasses- and they are all dirty next to the sink- while the dishwasher sits empty. that's kindof sad iffin you were to ask me- but nobody ever does.