Wednesday, June 30, 2004
The Things I Need to Tell You
Over the last couple of days, I have dealt with quite a few crazy things. In no particular order, here is my summary of events:
Lust
I have been completely insatiable when it comes to my lust factor these days. I am jerking my bean pole at least 2 times a day. Often, it’s up in the range of 3 or 4 times a dizzle. I can’t stop thinking about muscle men and how crazy horny they make me. I find myself whacking off in the strangest of places. Work, definitely. Home, of course. On Paul’s couch, while he’s sleeping. In Paul’s bed while he is making dinner. On the floor in my bathroom in Albany. In the den of my house in Albany. Pretty much, anywhere I can take it out and whack it off, I will surely do so. Summer gets to me. Seeing all those bulging biceps stretching the sleeves of those manly t-shirts. OMG. I have to jerk right now. Omg. OMG. OMG! UH UH UH UH Oh NO. OH YES! OH OH OH OH OH. HANGING TOUGH! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHyeaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Now I’m covered in cum. great.
Love
I’ve been so naturally happy these days. Most likely cuz of my impending birthday celebration this weekend. I’ve been running myself into the ground by trying to attend every event that’s happened over the last month. So far, the only get together I haven’t been able to attend was my friend, Stacey’s, bacherlorette party this weekend. I was pretty disappointed that I wasn’t able to see my Rita this weekend, but I just couldn’t make it out of the house. I woke up on Saturday and felt so burned out and like trash…I had to stay home. But once I got my sleep on, I woke up totally in love with everyone I know. There isn’t one person in my life that I’m currently angry at or upset with. I’m just coasting on good fumes and loving every second of it. Paul and I are doing incredibly well and I’m excited to see what he has planned for my birthday on Friday. I just love everything and everyone right now. It’s a very wonderful feeling that only comes around once in a while.
Hate
Of course, I can’t totally lie and say that there isn’t anything that I hate. What’s a life without some hatred in it? Pretty damn boring if you tell me. Be warned, when discussing “hate”, I never hold back. So here is who I hate and why I hate them, in no particular hating order:
1) The entire cast of Outback Jack. TBS…fuck you. Just…FUCK…you.
2) Avril Lavigne. If you don’t choke on your smarm soon, I’m going to wrap my girlie hands around your skinny neck and squeeze the fake coolness right out of your ugly Canadian face.
3) Ashlee Simpson. Please stop singing. You CAN’T and its hurting my ears. They are bleedy from you singy.
4) The entire staff at the University Food Market on the Upper West Side of NYC. You bitches are so rude to me and you’re all 18 with latina babies in your stomach. It’s not my fault that you got knocked up and have no education. Give me my Vitamin water with a smile or I’ll rip those babies out of your stomach and hand deliver them to you.
5) Alfred Molina. You may win people over with your Dr. Octopus savvy, but you will never EVER be ANY sort of Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. Be more Jewish or get out!
6) President George W. Bush. I never did have much respect for you, but now any shred of dignity you had is gone. You suck. You do bad things and hurt a lot of people. Your reign of terror will end and I will dance on your recently booted, shrivled up, close-minded, controlling bastard ass.
7) The Day After Tomorrow. I’m still reeling from how much you sucked as a movie. Even hot ass Jake Gyllenhaal couldn’t have saved it with his huge beautiful blue eyes. I was more excited to see this movie, over everything else this summer. You suck. You suck and you hurt my feelings for being so B-A-D. That spells “fucking bad”!
8) North Shore. You’re a stupid butthole. Brooke Burns? You are the wrinkle that surrounds the stupid butthole. Your acting skillz are SUPER good.
9) Britney Spears. I’ve never seen a stronger argument for legalizing gay marriage in my life.
10) J. Loser. Ditto on the gay marriage statement.
11) Dick Cheney. You suck worse than Bush. You really seriously do. And I think you drool on yourself. Vice President of scaring me!
12) My Alarm Clock. I worry every day that you won’t go off. You were made in 1972 and if it weren’t for your sentimental value, I would throw you out my front window. You are ugly and you are dirty. And…you are ugly. And dirty. Pudding pies puddin.
13) Liz Phair. What happened? Why do you suck my balls so bad? Why are you licking and nibbling and sucking my nuts? You turned your back on your indie fan base and came out with one of the WORST pop albums I done ever heard. And I am a pop queen, so I know me some poppy. You haven’t impressed me more than Hillary Duff. And she’s a blond donut.
Murder
It was a dark and stormy evening when I entered the old haunted house. In one hand I had a bottle of chloroform, in the other, I had a knife. I approached you while you were sleeping. Creeping on tip toes (I’m gay, memble?), I inched towards your bed, knife raised high to the ceiling. With no need for the chloroform, I casually shoved in into your twatty frosting. You moved slightly, but didn’t wake from the pleasant dreams you must have been having. I raised my knife high above your face and I brought it down with full and complete force. Once your last breath escaped from your chocolate mouth, I cut you up and gave you to everyone at my birthday party! You were a hit and everybody loved that your insides were made of ice cream! Haagen Daaz birthday cake, everyone loved it that you died in my honor!
What?
What.
Did you think I was a real murderer? Shit. I have sensibilities. I only kill for fun. You know that.
Guess what tomorrow is?
The day before my 27th birthday!
See you then bitches!
Over the last couple of days, I have dealt with quite a few crazy things. In no particular order, here is my summary of events:
Lust
I have been completely insatiable when it comes to my lust factor these days. I am jerking my bean pole at least 2 times a day. Often, it’s up in the range of 3 or 4 times a dizzle. I can’t stop thinking about muscle men and how crazy horny they make me. I find myself whacking off in the strangest of places. Work, definitely. Home, of course. On Paul’s couch, while he’s sleeping. In Paul’s bed while he is making dinner. On the floor in my bathroom in Albany. In the den of my house in Albany. Pretty much, anywhere I can take it out and whack it off, I will surely do so. Summer gets to me. Seeing all those bulging biceps stretching the sleeves of those manly t-shirts. OMG. I have to jerk right now. Omg. OMG. OMG! UH UH UH UH Oh NO. OH YES! OH OH OH OH OH. HANGING TOUGH! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHyeaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Now I’m covered in cum. great.
Love
I’ve been so naturally happy these days. Most likely cuz of my impending birthday celebration this weekend. I’ve been running myself into the ground by trying to attend every event that’s happened over the last month. So far, the only get together I haven’t been able to attend was my friend, Stacey’s, bacherlorette party this weekend. I was pretty disappointed that I wasn’t able to see my Rita this weekend, but I just couldn’t make it out of the house. I woke up on Saturday and felt so burned out and like trash…I had to stay home. But once I got my sleep on, I woke up totally in love with everyone I know. There isn’t one person in my life that I’m currently angry at or upset with. I’m just coasting on good fumes and loving every second of it. Paul and I are doing incredibly well and I’m excited to see what he has planned for my birthday on Friday. I just love everything and everyone right now. It’s a very wonderful feeling that only comes around once in a while.
Hate
Of course, I can’t totally lie and say that there isn’t anything that I hate. What’s a life without some hatred in it? Pretty damn boring if you tell me. Be warned, when discussing “hate”, I never hold back. So here is who I hate and why I hate them, in no particular hating order:
1) The entire cast of Outback Jack. TBS…fuck you. Just…FUCK…you.
2) Avril Lavigne. If you don’t choke on your smarm soon, I’m going to wrap my girlie hands around your skinny neck and squeeze the fake coolness right out of your ugly Canadian face.
3) Ashlee Simpson. Please stop singing. You CAN’T and its hurting my ears. They are bleedy from you singy.
4) The entire staff at the University Food Market on the Upper West Side of NYC. You bitches are so rude to me and you’re all 18 with latina babies in your stomach. It’s not my fault that you got knocked up and have no education. Give me my Vitamin water with a smile or I’ll rip those babies out of your stomach and hand deliver them to you.
5) Alfred Molina. You may win people over with your Dr. Octopus savvy, but you will never EVER be ANY sort of Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. Be more Jewish or get out!
6) President George W. Bush. I never did have much respect for you, but now any shred of dignity you had is gone. You suck. You do bad things and hurt a lot of people. Your reign of terror will end and I will dance on your recently booted, shrivled up, close-minded, controlling bastard ass.
7) The Day After Tomorrow. I’m still reeling from how much you sucked as a movie. Even hot ass Jake Gyllenhaal couldn’t have saved it with his huge beautiful blue eyes. I was more excited to see this movie, over everything else this summer. You suck. You suck and you hurt my feelings for being so B-A-D. That spells “fucking bad”!
8) North Shore. You’re a stupid butthole. Brooke Burns? You are the wrinkle that surrounds the stupid butthole. Your acting skillz are SUPER good.
9) Britney Spears. I’ve never seen a stronger argument for legalizing gay marriage in my life.
10) J. Loser. Ditto on the gay marriage statement.
11) Dick Cheney. You suck worse than Bush. You really seriously do. And I think you drool on yourself. Vice President of scaring me!
12) My Alarm Clock. I worry every day that you won’t go off. You were made in 1972 and if it weren’t for your sentimental value, I would throw you out my front window. You are ugly and you are dirty. And…you are ugly. And dirty. Pudding pies puddin.
13) Liz Phair. What happened? Why do you suck my balls so bad? Why are you licking and nibbling and sucking my nuts? You turned your back on your indie fan base and came out with one of the WORST pop albums I done ever heard. And I am a pop queen, so I know me some poppy. You haven’t impressed me more than Hillary Duff. And she’s a blond donut.
Murder
It was a dark and stormy evening when I entered the old haunted house. In one hand I had a bottle of chloroform, in the other, I had a knife. I approached you while you were sleeping. Creeping on tip toes (I’m gay, memble?), I inched towards your bed, knife raised high to the ceiling. With no need for the chloroform, I casually shoved in into your twatty frosting. You moved slightly, but didn’t wake from the pleasant dreams you must have been having. I raised my knife high above your face and I brought it down with full and complete force. Once your last breath escaped from your chocolate mouth, I cut you up and gave you to everyone at my birthday party! You were a hit and everybody loved that your insides were made of ice cream! Haagen Daaz birthday cake, everyone loved it that you died in my honor!
What?
What.
Did you think I was a real murderer? Shit. I have sensibilities. I only kill for fun. You know that.
Guess what tomorrow is?
The day before my 27th birthday!
See you then bitches!
