Love Letter To Titty Bear

Recently, I made contact with a woman who is, like myself, a living mascot for an orgiastic shock-rock band. She goes by the name of Titty Bear. I had been told she looked a lot like me, and I saw some photos, but you never can tell with these photos these days.

When I transform into Scumbalina the Porn Fairy for a performance with Gays in the Military, I sprout butterfly wings, an adorable mask and electrical tape on my deliciously huge and meaty nipples. When Titty Bear performs with Human Aftertaste, she grows furry ears and paws, electrical tape on her nipples (!) and even a huge, rubber penis that juts out from her endlessly kissable crotch.

Despite the costuming similarities, how could someone share my siren-like beauty? It is hard to even begin to wrap my mind around. Then it happened. I went to a seedy bar to see if I could get a job as a seedy waitress and SURPRISE! Titty Bear's band was playing!

So I approached her, and her delicate, rose-like gorgeousness sent an electric shock through me. It was like looking into a mirror.

For a moment, I thought that maybe Titty Bear might even be a bit more perfect than I am because her chin was more defined, but when she told me that the first part of her body she had issues with was her chin, I was smitten. Utterly and forever. In the ultimate act of narcissism, I must make love to and mate with the Titty Bear for the rest of my life.

I put my thoughts and feelings into a letter. Here it is:


Dear Titty Bear:

This is quite hard for me to write.

I have never met anyone who simultaneously loved and hated herself so much as I do. On one hand, I am constantly beating myself up over being a big loser crap-turd and having the brains of a monkey that throws his poop at the wall. And even though I am that lacking in the skull, I want a lobotomy.

Having said that, I also love myself more than anyone you will probably ever meet. More than Morrissey even. And whenever I receive a compliment, I won't stop talking about how great I am. And why the hell not? I am fucking great. I have extremely negative traits, but the fact that I am so incredibly gorgeous and my mind is nothing short of genius really turns me on.

You may or may not know that I have talked in the past a lot about wanting to and having sex with many people, most of them monsters, but the truth is that the ultimate person I'd love to be with is myself. Oh, we have so much fun together. Just me, in my room, holding onto my own hand and imagining being in Disneyland, laughing as the fat ladies beat their kids. Those are the happy times for me. I only date people who remind me of myself. The more like me they are, the more I love them. But of course, no one can compare to the one and only. ME.

I had a fantasy for a while, and that was to have a guy fuck me--despite the fact that I love myself, I also love dick (unfortunately)--while he wears a bag over his head with a picture of me eating a big sandwich affixed to it. I tried it a couple of times. It wasn't the best, but it was definitely better than seeing anyone else's ugly-ass mug. When I got a huge paper cut across my chest because of those sturdy brown bags, I realized I had to stop. It was getting hazardous.

All I want is someone to sit down on the couch with me, eat chicken-and-ham sandwiches, take antidepressants, and watch Trading Spouses and Extra. When I saw you in front of me in your bloody bear suit, with your big purple dildo, and your below average-sized breasts and your non-pronounced chin, I knew I had finally found the one--she who I have always been looking for!!! And you have a penis!!! No more paper bags. No more sex with monsters. I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, Titty Bear. I know I am saved now.

It is really not that bizarre. I figure almost everyone masturbates. Isn't that a testament of love to one's self? And usually the best person to get you off is you. I mean, who knows you better? So I don't have to masturbate to photos of my face anymore, or to a mirror. I can masturbate to you. Or we can have crazy bloody AIDS sex with your big long purple dildo (as I know it has been up the AIDS Monkey's derriere).

Sweetest, I have written you a lil poem:

Your body is a garbage dump
where I'd like to pee.
I think I'm in love with you,
because you look like me.

How I hope you like it! I spent all night choosing the right words. Trust me. I wouldn't do such things unless I was absolutely smitten.

Darling, I have never found someone who was so close in appearance to myself. Please marry me and maybe we can make babies that look like miniature girls with small boobs and no chins.

All of My Love,
Lil Princess.


Let’s all hope that she will love it so that my search will finally end . . .