This is a weird memory of mine, but it recently shot into my head and I thought it was so weird that it was maybe a little bit repressed, because it was not that tragic, but it was such a weird thing to happen, and it makes me remember what a bizarre child I was.
When I was about seven years old, my mom rented The Rocky Horror Picture Show for me to watch. After I saw it, I became obsessed (I am only okay to admit this because I was ONLY seven; I wasn't some high school or older theater geek. I HATE Rocky Horror fanatics).
I got the soundtrack, memorized it, memorized the whole movie, and then my mom took me to see the movie in the theater on Halloween, where I remember them having a "FUCK YOU" contest between the two sides of the audience, yelling "fuck you" at each other and trying to get the sides to yell the loudest. I, of course, could not participate because I was with my mom, but she was mortified that she brought me there and blames this experience in my youth for how mixed-up and insane I am today.
Soon thereafter I got my best friend Beth into Rocky Horror. And we used to get to school early and sneak into the bathroom, when all the lights were turned off, and I had this little Fisher-Price tape player and we'd listen to the songs over and over, alone in the really dark bathroom and sing along to them, softly, so we wouldn't get caught.
Thinking back on this, it was such a bizarre thing to do. And it didn't happen just one time. It became a ritual. We knew where and how to get in like 45 minutes early and we'd never miss a morning doing this. Then somehow it became a weirdly sexual experience. I mean we'd never touch or anything, but it was undeniable to both of us that it was.
Well, it does have to be argued that we were rather intimate friends. Beth would have her cousins come over while we'd pretend we were prostitutes and her cousins would give us back massages and stuff until I thought it was getting a little weird, but she'd go further with her cousins.
Beth also had a pool in her back yard and enjoyed taking shits into her hand and throwing it over the edge of the pool rather than getting up wet and going to the bathroom. I just threw that in because I really liked that she did that. She was trashy. Later she got fat and turned into real white trash.
So my relationship with Beth was weirdly sexual to begin with, and this Rocky Horror ritual thing became very important to us. I remember we finally got caught one day by my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Murphy, a gangly old Irish lady. I really can't fucking imagine what she thought of two girls hiding out before school in a dark bathroom singing the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, nor did I even know if she knew what we were listening to, but she very sternly told us to get out of the school and never come back in early like that.
After that I started to like to spend a lot of time in the bathroom at school. I figured out how to climb around the stalls and spy on people peeing when they didn't notice, and mostly I attributed it to the fact that I liked to climb, and the bathroom was fun. The school had one of those cheap panel ceilings like most institutions do, where you can push the panels up and they're made of this crappy cardboard stuff. One day I noticed that one panel was slightly broken, and I climbed up by the ceiling and started pushing it up and down and moving it. I entertained the idea of going up into the ceiling, but I pussied out...that time.
Later I pushed the panel all the way over and decided I'd do it. I'd go up into the ceiling and climb around and see where I ended up. I was a very skinny kid, so I figured it would support me, if my dream was not interrupted by some stupid tattle-tale bitch who I guess was taking a pee at the time and I did not notice her leaving. But I did notice when some fat ape of a woman teacher came in yelling at me to get out of the ceiling. I thought maybe I could run, in the ceiling, and not get caught. I could escape. But I was used to listening to adults so I came down. Right when I was so close to what I wanted to do.
They took me to the principal's office for this, and I had never gotten into any trouble (at this point) so it was really weird for me. The principal asked me weird questions about whether I wanted to escape something and about whether I was being abused at home, and what would make me want to go up there.
At the time, I figured it was just because I liked to climb and was curious.
Oh, yeah: The school authorities also got the obviously pedophile janitor to come in and yell at me about the damage I caused to the ceiling. He really screamed for a long time. I'm sure he totally got off on it. He never got to yell at any of the kids. I think he was living out his fantasy. Fucking perverted janitors. Who would get that job unless he was a pervert?
Anyway, I thought at the time I just liked climbing and that's why I went in the ceiling, but when this all popped into my head the other day I think the principal may have been right. Maybe I was trying to get away from something.
Whenever people asked when I was a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, I could never think of anything to say. I saw One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest when I was about eight, and I saw Jack Nicholson get a lobotomy. After that, I decided I always wanted a lobotomy. My home life was so bad. I never wanted to get married. That seemed terrible! I would always say I wanted a lobotomy when I grew up. That would freak people out. Except my father, he loved it, because of his sense of humor.
I think back to sneaking into school every morning with my incestuous best friend and secretly listening to the Rocky Horror soundtrack and then trying to run away into the ceiling and I realize I've always been like this. I always wanted to escape in some way but I didn't know how. I still do, and I still don't know how.
My small bedroom with walls covered in clown paintings and a floor littered with Dunkin Donuts cups and cigarette butts and the TV constantly blaring serves as an escape for me now. I spend progressively more and more time in there. I'm positive I'm becoming agoraphobic. It's an escape from all these fat know-it-alls, and all the creeps that troll around me and hit on me, people that follow me and suck the life out of me, as well as my mother's constant nagging and my father's endless talk about death.
My room is also my respite from disgusting bar life, noise music, roaches, decay, daily dealings with mental degenerates, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseam. It seems to never end. I don't know why this all hit me recently but I think it's important for some reason.
I wish now that I could try to climb into one of those cheap panel ceilings, just because now I'm adult and I know if I were caught people would think I was crazy, but I wouldn't care.
The other day I was in Dunkin Donuts for my daily visit, and this little girl started talking to me. I talked back to her. She was cute. Then she turned to her mom and said, "Mom everyone is so nice, I love everyone!"
I almost started crying.
Then I said goodbye to her and started walking to the door, and she asked her mom if she could come give me a hug and before her mom gave her an answer she came up and hugged me. It was really weird.
Now I'm not going to go all Michael Jackson and talk about how children are so beautiful and innocent, but it was a sweet moment. I wish there were more like that.
At the very least, I wish I had more moments like I used to have with Beth listening to the radio in the dark, or swimming in her pool and watching her shit in her hands and throw it over the side. Those are the moments that make life worth living and make me not want to hide all the time.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
69 Reasons Why I Should Have Been Aborted
Valerie Solanas has long served me as an inspiration. She may be most famous for shooting Andy Warhol, but she was also a great writer. Her best known work is The SCUM Manifesto.
SCUM stands for "Society for Cutting Up Men".
If a man wants to join the men's auxiliary version of SCUM, he must take an oath. The oath starts with "I am a turd. I am a lowly abject turd. And these are the reasons why I should have been aborted . . . "
I thought it would be both therapeutic and interesting to do this for myself, so I have written 69 reasons why I should have been aborted. I hope you enjoy them. I also recommend this exercise to everyone. It's fun!
For parents, it's a good exercise to have your children do. Have them write down 50 reasons why mommy and daddy should have turned them into a big bloody miscarriage. There I go getting gross again. One of my many flaws. I hope you enjoy.
I am a turd. I am a lowly abject turd. And these are the reasons why I should have been aborted:
1. My house is a shitpile.
2. My boyfriend is a gay pussy turd.
3. My toilet doesn't flush.
4. I have genital warts.
5. I am a coward.
6. I cannot remember things.
7. I forget to wear socks (even in the winter).
8. I did not get an oil change on my car for two years and almost destroyed the engine.
9. I forget people's birthdays.
10. I lose things.
11. I spill drinks a lot.
12. I have bad eating habits and table manners.
13. One of my teeth is half black due to the fact that my orthodontist fucked up, so I guess it's really not my fault.
14. I have killed many times. Mostly cockroaches.
15. I spend large amounts of time performing rituals for my obsessive compulsive disorder (e.g., touching walls, turning lights on and off, counting, and too many others to list).
16. I have not yet been on a reality show.
17. I have had sexual intercourse with some of the most rotten, disgusting trolls that Mother Nature has ever birthed out of her large, bloody pussy.
18. I have bad body odor (although I like it, so I don't wear deodorant).
19. I seem to be constantly living in "bad" situations.
20. People have told me I am delusional or paranoid; although I must disagree with them because I justify all of my paranoia.
21. I can get pregnant.
22. My mother already had an abortion before me, about 20 years before I was born. She was young and the baby was half black; if he was aborted, so should I have been.
23. I don't respect my father as much as I used to.
24. I can't stop making fun of fat people.
25. I flush my tampons down the toilet, and it gets clogged.
26. I don't shave my legs.
27. Sometimes I'm too lazy to buy tampons so I use toilet paper, or sometimes just drip. (But not PEE! I never drip pee!)
28. I am obsessed with reality shows.
29. I am dirty, physically and mentally.
30. I'm not sure about the way I feel about religion.
31. I say mean things.
32. I am very lazy.
33. I sleep a lot.
34. I wish I could get a man pregnant and then leave him to deal with the baby.
35. I use the guy down the street to fix my car for free, then I promise to go out to dinner with him and I never do.
36. I have randomly sent nude photos to men on death row (although I don't think this is bad, most people might).
37. I screen all of my phone calls.
38. I have not talked to my dying father in five months. Especially on those really cold days when you’re supposed to be checking on the elderly. He could be dead right now, I don't know.
39. I need to wash my hair.
40. I am only attracted to men who have severe substance-abuse problems (again, I don't think this is a problem, but others do).
41. I wish I knew better revenge tactics.
42. I don't know how to fight.
43. I don't own a gun.
44. I am not as good at mind control as I should be by now.
45. I am not as famous as I should be by now.
46. I can't figure out when will be the proper time for me to die so as to preserve my reputation and be remembered for the longest amount of time.
47. I am bad at eBay.
48. I have not yet captured Lara Flynn Boyle, tied her down, and broken every one of her skinny little limbs, and then cut her little breasts off and sent her to the hospital.
49. I cannot trust anyone (although I think this is a good thing).
50. I cannot do my own taxes.
51. I have terrible credit.
52. I keep getting parking tickets for parking more than ten inches from the curb. You'd think I'd learn by now!
53. I can't pee standing up.
54. I lie.
55. I steal (not just material things, ideas as well, and anything else).
56. My behavior has been dubbed grotesque and unbearable.
57. I have little to no dignity.
58. I have a fibroid growing inside me.
59. I have too many nightmares.
60. I am "out of control".
61. I dye my hair.
62. I fall asleep with lit cigarettes and burn myself. Luckily I have not yet burnt the house down.
63. There are more but I cannot write them down here.
64. Another secret.
65. Another secret.
66. Another secret.
67. Another secret.
68. Five separate people claim that I have single-handedly ruined their lives.
69. My childhood was not the best, so maybe I would have been better aborted.
SCUM stands for "Society for Cutting Up Men".
If a man wants to join the men's auxiliary version of SCUM, he must take an oath. The oath starts with "I am a turd. I am a lowly abject turd. And these are the reasons why I should have been aborted . . . "
I thought it would be both therapeutic and interesting to do this for myself, so I have written 69 reasons why I should have been aborted. I hope you enjoy them. I also recommend this exercise to everyone. It's fun!
For parents, it's a good exercise to have your children do. Have them write down 50 reasons why mommy and daddy should have turned them into a big bloody miscarriage. There I go getting gross again. One of my many flaws. I hope you enjoy.
I am a turd. I am a lowly abject turd. And these are the reasons why I should have been aborted:
1. My house is a shitpile.
2. My boyfriend is a gay pussy turd.
3. My toilet doesn't flush.
4. I have genital warts.
5. I am a coward.
6. I cannot remember things.
7. I forget to wear socks (even in the winter).
8. I did not get an oil change on my car for two years and almost destroyed the engine.
9. I forget people's birthdays.
10. I lose things.
11. I spill drinks a lot.
12. I have bad eating habits and table manners.
13. One of my teeth is half black due to the fact that my orthodontist fucked up, so I guess it's really not my fault.
14. I have killed many times. Mostly cockroaches.
15. I spend large amounts of time performing rituals for my obsessive compulsive disorder (e.g., touching walls, turning lights on and off, counting, and too many others to list).
16. I have not yet been on a reality show.
17. I have had sexual intercourse with some of the most rotten, disgusting trolls that Mother Nature has ever birthed out of her large, bloody pussy.
18. I have bad body odor (although I like it, so I don't wear deodorant).
19. I seem to be constantly living in "bad" situations.
20. People have told me I am delusional or paranoid; although I must disagree with them because I justify all of my paranoia.
21. I can get pregnant.
22. My mother already had an abortion before me, about 20 years before I was born. She was young and the baby was half black; if he was aborted, so should I have been.
23. I don't respect my father as much as I used to.
24. I can't stop making fun of fat people.
25. I flush my tampons down the toilet, and it gets clogged.
26. I don't shave my legs.
27. Sometimes I'm too lazy to buy tampons so I use toilet paper, or sometimes just drip. (But not PEE! I never drip pee!)
28. I am obsessed with reality shows.
29. I am dirty, physically and mentally.
30. I'm not sure about the way I feel about religion.
31. I say mean things.
32. I am very lazy.
33. I sleep a lot.
34. I wish I could get a man pregnant and then leave him to deal with the baby.
35. I use the guy down the street to fix my car for free, then I promise to go out to dinner with him and I never do.
36. I have randomly sent nude photos to men on death row (although I don't think this is bad, most people might).
37. I screen all of my phone calls.
38. I have not talked to my dying father in five months. Especially on those really cold days when you’re supposed to be checking on the elderly. He could be dead right now, I don't know.
39. I need to wash my hair.
40. I am only attracted to men who have severe substance-abuse problems (again, I don't think this is a problem, but others do).
41. I wish I knew better revenge tactics.
42. I don't know how to fight.
43. I don't own a gun.
44. I am not as good at mind control as I should be by now.
45. I am not as famous as I should be by now.
46. I can't figure out when will be the proper time for me to die so as to preserve my reputation and be remembered for the longest amount of time.
47. I am bad at eBay.
48. I have not yet captured Lara Flynn Boyle, tied her down, and broken every one of her skinny little limbs, and then cut her little breasts off and sent her to the hospital.
49. I cannot trust anyone (although I think this is a good thing).
50. I cannot do my own taxes.
51. I have terrible credit.
52. I keep getting parking tickets for parking more than ten inches from the curb. You'd think I'd learn by now!
53. I can't pee standing up.
54. I lie.
55. I steal (not just material things, ideas as well, and anything else).
56. My behavior has been dubbed grotesque and unbearable.
57. I have little to no dignity.
58. I have a fibroid growing inside me.
59. I have too many nightmares.
60. I am "out of control".
61. I dye my hair.
62. I fall asleep with lit cigarettes and burn myself. Luckily I have not yet burnt the house down.
63. There are more but I cannot write them down here.
64. Another secret.
65. Another secret.
66. Another secret.
67. Another secret.
68. Five separate people claim that I have single-handedly ruined their lives.
69. My childhood was not the best, so maybe I would have been better aborted.
Tuesday, May 9, 2006
Dirty Words
The Nazis were horrible and all, but how could a person really hate them?
I was watching this program on the History Channel today about the different crazy weapons of destruction that were made by them. The most impressive was this one that consisted of two speakers that let out so much noise that the pressure from the sound would extend a full half mile and destroy anything in its path.
The resulting force was equivalent to what you would feel if you were 10,000 feet under water. You blow yourself to smithereens. It was amazing. Another cool Nazi weapon was a gun that shot around corners. There were so many more.
They had such amazing engineers, those Nazis, that it's a shame that they used so many of them to kill all those Jews. My father, of course, has always insisted there weren't even six million Jews on the entire planet during World War II, so therefore the Holocaust could not possibly have happened. I don't know. I was not there. The photos are sexy. But I tend to think that the Holocaust happened.
As for the rest of Nazi lore, I just like the weapons. I have nothing against Jews, except for the guy I'm dating and his mean hippie parents.
This brings me into what I actually want to sound off about. My main job is working with homeless and "at risk" youth. That means sex workers, drug addicts, homeless people, hungry people, fat people, trans people, gay people, et cetera.
It's a nonprofit organization, and we have recently opened a "drop-in," which is a place where all these degenerates can hang out, and the degenerate who's writing this has to regulate shit on Fridays.
For months, we had no problems there and we have every type of youth in the world coming there. It's really a utopia, almost. People who would be called "ghetto" can be seen hanging out with loud trannies, which you would never see on the streets, and then chatting with artsy drug-addict hipsters and the others. Get this: They all even agree on movies and television shows. The O.C. seems to be the popular one that surpasses age, race, gender, sexual orientation, and everything else . . . go figure. So anyway, everything was going along well.
Until the language police barged in and busted up everybody's good time.
One of my genius roommates, who also has the same working position as I do, decided to go to an event highly populated by trans, gays, "people of color" etc. and sing a song that had the word "nigger" in it about thirty times.
I was just waiting for him to get assaulted, but I was also glad he did it. When it was over though, nothing seemed to happen. No repercussions. Nothing. We thought. This lasted for about a week. Then the shit started hitting the fucking fan.
Now we are no longer able to say anything. AT ALL. EVERYTHING IS REGULATED. We are now going to be a "SAFE SPACE" where you cannot say even the most miniscule word that could be taken the wrong way.
Most people would come to the conclusion then that you wouldn't be stupid and use the hot-button key words, like nigger, faggot, whore, he-she, honky, half-breed, lardo, cripple, bugaboo, mr. bojangles, loonie, junkie, sheenie, beaner, sand nigger, ho, dyke, etc. (Jesus, I love writing those down).
Anyone with sense would avoid those words, but recently someone said they got "gypped" and was reprimanded. You know why? Because the word "gypped" is derived from the word "Gypsy," and that could hurt the feelings of those who tell fortunes and wear lots of jewelry and steal things.
More recently I mentioned that I felt like I was "going crazy." I got jumped on and asked what the word "crazy" means to me and don't I think that someone could be offended by that and what was wrong with me etc. It's sick. I can't say anything anymore.
The Powers That Be keep repeating, "We don't want anyone walking on eggshells." I'm afraid to open my mouth anymore. It's impossible to even say anything that may not be taken as offensive.
This is ruining everything that we stood for in the first place. These kids who are homeless, sex worker, drug addicts have a lot more to worry about than if they use a certain fucking word and make someone "sad".
More importantly, the only person concerned with language is a "feminist" who is responsible for all these regulations. One funny aspect is that, as a woman, I am allowed to say and write whore, junkie, and anything I want about rape, very graphically, but since I'm a honky, I can't write or say anything about people of color or anything else.
I'm also not allowed to talk about fatties, because I'm not fat. FAT is one of my favorite words! I say it all the time. I'm going through withdrawal by not being able to call my roommates fat at work. This shit makes me sick. I think I am going to become a fat gay transexual black Arab who whores out my body and is mentally ill and crippled and, of course, a woman. Then I'll be able to say whatever the fuck I want.
Crap like this is why I do not like being equated with the feminists. There were plenty of feminist geniuses, but the feminists are also the first ones to outlaw porn. It's sick and dangerous. Some feminists are more dangerous than the fucking right-wing conservatives.
I know this is a little more political than I usually write, but I want to point out the danger that can come when people start censoring our words. Regardless of whether they are "liberal" or "right wing," I hate them all. NO ONE has freedom of speech in mind. Everyone's main goal is to shut "the other side" up.
I started this by pointing out how lovable the Nazis were for inventing such great weapons. I really want the sonic blast one. I would round up all feminists, Christians, and anyone else that wants to stop me from saying words like fat, fag, turd, plug, degenerate, junkie, troll, decay-stinking fat-asses, rat-breath cripples, socket face, mental degenerates, sperm stench, cottage cheese cum, prepuce, thick shaft, sand nigger, abuse, plow, slam stroke, slither, wretch, slop, pull one off, pulsing, crawling, gypsy, seeping, tight hard ass, fat monstrosity, shit chewing rat, flea infested garbage dump, cock-sucking crack whore, pedophile waste-case, immense blob, sickening nigger, old tang, clam sauce, half breed, etc. and place them all within a half mile radius and blast "Happy Together" by the Turtles and watch all of their bodies explode into a million pieces from a videocast while I am safe at home.
That would make my day.
I was watching this program on the History Channel today about the different crazy weapons of destruction that were made by them. The most impressive was this one that consisted of two speakers that let out so much noise that the pressure from the sound would extend a full half mile and destroy anything in its path.
The resulting force was equivalent to what you would feel if you were 10,000 feet under water. You blow yourself to smithereens. It was amazing. Another cool Nazi weapon was a gun that shot around corners. There were so many more.
They had such amazing engineers, those Nazis, that it's a shame that they used so many of them to kill all those Jews. My father, of course, has always insisted there weren't even six million Jews on the entire planet during World War II, so therefore the Holocaust could not possibly have happened. I don't know. I was not there. The photos are sexy. But I tend to think that the Holocaust happened.
As for the rest of Nazi lore, I just like the weapons. I have nothing against Jews, except for the guy I'm dating and his mean hippie parents.
This brings me into what I actually want to sound off about. My main job is working with homeless and "at risk" youth. That means sex workers, drug addicts, homeless people, hungry people, fat people, trans people, gay people, et cetera.
It's a nonprofit organization, and we have recently opened a "drop-in," which is a place where all these degenerates can hang out, and the degenerate who's writing this has to regulate shit on Fridays.
For months, we had no problems there and we have every type of youth in the world coming there. It's really a utopia, almost. People who would be called "ghetto" can be seen hanging out with loud trannies, which you would never see on the streets, and then chatting with artsy drug-addict hipsters and the others. Get this: They all even agree on movies and television shows. The O.C. seems to be the popular one that surpasses age, race, gender, sexual orientation, and everything else . . . go figure. So anyway, everything was going along well.
Until the language police barged in and busted up everybody's good time.
One of my genius roommates, who also has the same working position as I do, decided to go to an event highly populated by trans, gays, "people of color" etc. and sing a song that had the word "nigger" in it about thirty times.
I was just waiting for him to get assaulted, but I was also glad he did it. When it was over though, nothing seemed to happen. No repercussions. Nothing. We thought. This lasted for about a week. Then the shit started hitting the fucking fan.
Now we are no longer able to say anything. AT ALL. EVERYTHING IS REGULATED. We are now going to be a "SAFE SPACE" where you cannot say even the most miniscule word that could be taken the wrong way.
Most people would come to the conclusion then that you wouldn't be stupid and use the hot-button key words, like nigger, faggot, whore, he-she, honky, half-breed, lardo, cripple, bugaboo, mr. bojangles, loonie, junkie, sheenie, beaner, sand nigger, ho, dyke, etc. (Jesus, I love writing those down).
Anyone with sense would avoid those words, but recently someone said they got "gypped" and was reprimanded. You know why? Because the word "gypped" is derived from the word "Gypsy," and that could hurt the feelings of those who tell fortunes and wear lots of jewelry and steal things.
More recently I mentioned that I felt like I was "going crazy." I got jumped on and asked what the word "crazy" means to me and don't I think that someone could be offended by that and what was wrong with me etc. It's sick. I can't say anything anymore.
The Powers That Be keep repeating, "We don't want anyone walking on eggshells." I'm afraid to open my mouth anymore. It's impossible to even say anything that may not be taken as offensive.
This is ruining everything that we stood for in the first place. These kids who are homeless, sex worker, drug addicts have a lot more to worry about than if they use a certain fucking word and make someone "sad".
More importantly, the only person concerned with language is a "feminist" who is responsible for all these regulations. One funny aspect is that, as a woman, I am allowed to say and write whore, junkie, and anything I want about rape, very graphically, but since I'm a honky, I can't write or say anything about people of color or anything else.
I'm also not allowed to talk about fatties, because I'm not fat. FAT is one of my favorite words! I say it all the time. I'm going through withdrawal by not being able to call my roommates fat at work. This shit makes me sick. I think I am going to become a fat gay transexual black Arab who whores out my body and is mentally ill and crippled and, of course, a woman. Then I'll be able to say whatever the fuck I want.
Crap like this is why I do not like being equated with the feminists. There were plenty of feminist geniuses, but the feminists are also the first ones to outlaw porn. It's sick and dangerous. Some feminists are more dangerous than the fucking right-wing conservatives.
I know this is a little more political than I usually write, but I want to point out the danger that can come when people start censoring our words. Regardless of whether they are "liberal" or "right wing," I hate them all. NO ONE has freedom of speech in mind. Everyone's main goal is to shut "the other side" up.
I started this by pointing out how lovable the Nazis were for inventing such great weapons. I really want the sonic blast one. I would round up all feminists, Christians, and anyone else that wants to stop me from saying words like fat, fag, turd, plug, degenerate, junkie, troll, decay-stinking fat-asses, rat-breath cripples, socket face, mental degenerates, sperm stench, cottage cheese cum, prepuce, thick shaft, sand nigger, abuse, plow, slam stroke, slither, wretch, slop, pull one off, pulsing, crawling, gypsy, seeping, tight hard ass, fat monstrosity, shit chewing rat, flea infested garbage dump, cock-sucking crack whore, pedophile waste-case, immense blob, sickening nigger, old tang, clam sauce, half breed, etc. and place them all within a half mile radius and blast "Happy Together" by the Turtles and watch all of their bodies explode into a million pieces from a videocast while I am safe at home.
That would make my day.
Monday, May 1, 2006
Weird World
I don't know why I have gotten as far as I have in life but it's happened. I don't like anyone. I try not to talk to them. I never ever try. My mother seems to think I'm wasting my life. I do too sometimes, but not really. I feel like I have gotten a lot farther than the average John Q. Public, drooling at the television. Although I can't miss my Dr. Phil, and I have nothing against television.
I mean, I have this boyfriend who I guess is nice to me, and I play mother to him. Don't fucking ask me how that ever happened. And I have these fucking weirdos that latch on to me because I talk to them. People are sick. I have a Furby, and I swear to god, that thing tells me far more intelligible things in the period of twenty minutes than most people do in their lifetimes. Why don't they leave me alone?
The other day this stoned-ass bitch came into my car and told me she had this lung problem. I started to feel sorry for her, but then I started realizing that she has nothing. She's about fifty-five. She is totally old enough to get a medical card, plus she has emphysema and can't work so should be on social security, but she's not. Why? No one knows.
Her only solution to the problem is selling her body, but now nobody's buying, because she's so decrepit and old. I just don't understand how you get to that point. I know there is a bottom. How does this happen?
And I hear this shit over and over. And it starts to sound like Charlie Brown's fucking teacher. I am more than sympathetic. But I just don't get it. I wish more people were like Furby.
Babies are stupid but I swear some grown people are worse than babies. My roommate gets drunk and talks at me for hours about the same nonsense. Why can't people like this just come equipped with some pouch on their back that contains a gun that I could use to shoot myself after they have been talking for too long? Sometimes a human being can only take so much.
I would need a gun too. I would never be a pussy and use pills or some other shit that can go wrong and leave you a drooling retard. I'd have to make sure I would be dead.
I saw this commercial once. It made me laugh so hard. Maybe others of you have seen it. It's for life insurance that will help you pay for your funeral after you are dead. It talks about how much funerals cost, about six thousand dollars, and how much social security pitches in, about six hundred dollars, so that your family is left with the burden of putting your body in the fucking ground. Jesus Christ!
I saw that and I simultaneously shit my pants laughing and crying. There are people at home, old people, watching this actually thinking, I don't want to be a burden when I die so I should get this. I mean they're fucking dead. Wouldn't anyone feel bad for them? Unless they're real assholes and then they wouldn't care about the burden that they left anyway.
This conundrum really makes no sense to me. But I still love the commercial and the fact that this insurance actually exists. What a world we live in.
The other day I was driving, and I saw this billboard that almost made me get into six accidents. It was black with white letters and it said "6-6-06 THE SIGNS ARE ALL AROUND US" except the dashes between the 6's were all upside-down crosses.
I panicked: Where? Where are the signs? The currency exchange across the street? The Christian school on the other corner? The KF-fucking-C? Where are the goddamned signs?
They should put that sign in the ghetto. You could scare some dumb whitey into thinking the world is going to shit, if they perhaps got lost or something.
The ghettos have had the best signs popping up, in general. At first, they were only on busses that went down into black neighborhoods, but they have now placed them in the neighborhoods themselves. They read: "I see black people". Brilliant.
This is such a ridiculously funny town. Everything seems so backwards. Two days ago, in fact, I actually saw this old guy jogging backwards. I wondered if he knew what he was doing. But it made sense somehow. I think just about anything would make sense to me now.
The whole world has just gone so wacky, and all this shit with all these last comings and everything and the fact that I've been dating this weird Hebrew for a long time now. It spans from general life close into my personal life. I can't really say good or bad things happen anymore . . . Fucking weird things happen. That's all.
As a side note, after having sex my boyfriend has fallen asleep with a condom on at least the past three times. Is this normal? I don't think it is. He always blames me for it too. He wakes up, sees the condom on his dick, and yells at me about it. It is really gross. In all of the eight years I have been having sex that has never happened. Or if it has, no one told me. It makes me sick.
And there's one more reason that my world is so backwards. My mother has turned from her old days as basically a drug addict sex maniac into a hardworking woman staunchly against drugs and bizarre sex.
I was telling her about my articles here the other day and explaining to her about how I only have one VD now. My mom is the QUEEN of VDs. She has had all of them and her boyfriend currently has herpes, which she has as well.
So I told my mom that I have genital warts and she started laughing. Then she got all casual, like she was talking to a girlfriend thirty years ago, and she said to me, "Heh-heh, I remember when I had genital warts, they put me out and burned them off with a laser. And when I was wakin' up, I was still all fucked up from the anesthesia and I asked the doctor 'Did ya get those warts off my ass?'"
I still was really happy she told me that. That's why I love my mother. It's those little moments when she suddenly falls back into her old self when I knew she was super trashy and all fucked up where I see who she was and it makes me glad she pushed me out of her vadge all those years ago.
Yeah, I know things are all over here, but that's just how I'm feeling. Nothing seems to make sense. I'm happy about it. But I just don't know what to think anymore. I think I've been watching too much History Channel. I occasionally fall asleep with that shit on and when I wake up, I have all these conspiracy theories engrained in my head. But today it was so boring. They had a two-hour special on about salt. I mean how much can anybody talk about salt?
Everyone should be shot, or like the opposite. Maybe there ought to be a big ticker-tape party thrown in everyone's honor for making the world such a terribly bizarre place.
Assholes always bellyache about how it's so terrible that more people vote for American Idol than for the president. I really never thought that was that weird. Well first of all because it's way fucking easier to vote for American Idol. Secondly, it's more fun. Presidents suck.
And I never really get what I want, and I realize I should have just sat at home and watched American Idol instead of leaving the house to vote. Although after Carrie Underwood won last season, I got mad. She's gross, and people are just hoping that she'll have a nip-slip. That's the only reason Bo Bice didn't win.
I mean, I have this boyfriend who I guess is nice to me, and I play mother to him. Don't fucking ask me how that ever happened. And I have these fucking weirdos that latch on to me because I talk to them. People are sick. I have a Furby, and I swear to god, that thing tells me far more intelligible things in the period of twenty minutes than most people do in their lifetimes. Why don't they leave me alone?
The other day this stoned-ass bitch came into my car and told me she had this lung problem. I started to feel sorry for her, but then I started realizing that she has nothing. She's about fifty-five. She is totally old enough to get a medical card, plus she has emphysema and can't work so should be on social security, but she's not. Why? No one knows.
Her only solution to the problem is selling her body, but now nobody's buying, because she's so decrepit and old. I just don't understand how you get to that point. I know there is a bottom. How does this happen?
And I hear this shit over and over. And it starts to sound like Charlie Brown's fucking teacher. I am more than sympathetic. But I just don't get it. I wish more people were like Furby.
Babies are stupid but I swear some grown people are worse than babies. My roommate gets drunk and talks at me for hours about the same nonsense. Why can't people like this just come equipped with some pouch on their back that contains a gun that I could use to shoot myself after they have been talking for too long? Sometimes a human being can only take so much.
I would need a gun too. I would never be a pussy and use pills or some other shit that can go wrong and leave you a drooling retard. I'd have to make sure I would be dead.
I saw this commercial once. It made me laugh so hard. Maybe others of you have seen it. It's for life insurance that will help you pay for your funeral after you are dead. It talks about how much funerals cost, about six thousand dollars, and how much social security pitches in, about six hundred dollars, so that your family is left with the burden of putting your body in the fucking ground. Jesus Christ!
I saw that and I simultaneously shit my pants laughing and crying. There are people at home, old people, watching this actually thinking, I don't want to be a burden when I die so I should get this. I mean they're fucking dead. Wouldn't anyone feel bad for them? Unless they're real assholes and then they wouldn't care about the burden that they left anyway.
This conundrum really makes no sense to me. But I still love the commercial and the fact that this insurance actually exists. What a world we live in.
The other day I was driving, and I saw this billboard that almost made me get into six accidents. It was black with white letters and it said "6-6-06 THE SIGNS ARE ALL AROUND US" except the dashes between the 6's were all upside-down crosses.
I panicked: Where? Where are the signs? The currency exchange across the street? The Christian school on the other corner? The KF-fucking-C? Where are the goddamned signs?
They should put that sign in the ghetto. You could scare some dumb whitey into thinking the world is going to shit, if they perhaps got lost or something.
The ghettos have had the best signs popping up, in general. At first, they were only on busses that went down into black neighborhoods, but they have now placed them in the neighborhoods themselves. They read: "I see black people". Brilliant.
This is such a ridiculously funny town. Everything seems so backwards. Two days ago, in fact, I actually saw this old guy jogging backwards. I wondered if he knew what he was doing. But it made sense somehow. I think just about anything would make sense to me now.
The whole world has just gone so wacky, and all this shit with all these last comings and everything and the fact that I've been dating this weird Hebrew for a long time now. It spans from general life close into my personal life. I can't really say good or bad things happen anymore . . . Fucking weird things happen. That's all.
As a side note, after having sex my boyfriend has fallen asleep with a condom on at least the past three times. Is this normal? I don't think it is. He always blames me for it too. He wakes up, sees the condom on his dick, and yells at me about it. It is really gross. In all of the eight years I have been having sex that has never happened. Or if it has, no one told me. It makes me sick.
And there's one more reason that my world is so backwards. My mother has turned from her old days as basically a drug addict sex maniac into a hardworking woman staunchly against drugs and bizarre sex.
I was telling her about my articles here the other day and explaining to her about how I only have one VD now. My mom is the QUEEN of VDs. She has had all of them and her boyfriend currently has herpes, which she has as well.
So I told my mom that I have genital warts and she started laughing. Then she got all casual, like she was talking to a girlfriend thirty years ago, and she said to me, "Heh-heh, I remember when I had genital warts, they put me out and burned them off with a laser. And when I was wakin' up, I was still all fucked up from the anesthesia and I asked the doctor 'Did ya get those warts off my ass?'"
I still was really happy she told me that. That's why I love my mother. It's those little moments when she suddenly falls back into her old self when I knew she was super trashy and all fucked up where I see who she was and it makes me glad she pushed me out of her vadge all those years ago.
Yeah, I know things are all over here, but that's just how I'm feeling. Nothing seems to make sense. I'm happy about it. But I just don't know what to think anymore. I think I've been watching too much History Channel. I occasionally fall asleep with that shit on and when I wake up, I have all these conspiracy theories engrained in my head. But today it was so boring. They had a two-hour special on about salt. I mean how much can anybody talk about salt?
Everyone should be shot, or like the opposite. Maybe there ought to be a big ticker-tape party thrown in everyone's honor for making the world such a terribly bizarre place.
Assholes always bellyache about how it's so terrible that more people vote for American Idol than for the president. I really never thought that was that weird. Well first of all because it's way fucking easier to vote for American Idol. Secondly, it's more fun. Presidents suck.
And I never really get what I want, and I realize I should have just sat at home and watched American Idol instead of leaving the house to vote. Although after Carrie Underwood won last season, I got mad. She's gross, and people are just hoping that she'll have a nip-slip. That's the only reason Bo Bice didn't win.
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