Wednesday, November 30, 2005
So the problem is the Angelman's syndrome post? Well, I'll have you know that all the quotes from normal siblings came from this site right here. I only added emphasis and maybe cut one or two sentences for conservation of space (which isn't a great quoting practice, but hey, we like it fast and dirty here). And I'm sure many bitches (like myself) would agree that it's pretty amusing to read, in a schadenfreude sort of way.
It's not a hate post. I didn't say they should be gassed or anything. It's a joyful celebration of human malfunction. Haha. Your kids probably can't read anyway, am I right?
You people say I'm uncivilized, but haven't you ever heard of sending an email? I can remove posts that really hurt someone's feelings. Well, if I feel like it. It's a little more effective, however, to send me an angry email than to leave whiney posts in my comments.
Anyhow, gentle readers, the Angelman's post is gone. If you want to read it again, you'll have to peep at the copy burned into Leslie Thacker's retinas.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
or
If You Can't Stand the Heat, Get Out. Just Get Out.
I'm really flattered. Some people actually take my blog seriously! Check out the latest and greatest flames from my very own comments function:
From Anonymous: Actually, I can't wait till your school comes after you after your clueless posts (oh, yeah, we found out what university you go to, can't wait!!), and also your parents find out about this nice little mind-fuck you've got going. I'm sure they'll be pleased to find out their little girl is really a disgusting pig with no morals, no conscience, and was ultimately a waste of uterine space. Most pleased with awaiting your downfall, darling. Do hope you find time to cram for finals as you are brought before the college review board - I'm sure this blog wasn't on your app., but NOW they'll (giggle) KNOW!!
Of course you know what University I go to. I mention Wash U constantly - every couple of posts or so. Not to mention the fact that I post my blog address in every public social directory the school has to offer.
Believe it or not, gentle readers, my blog was on my college application. For my writing scholarships, at least. Apparently, some members of academia find my bullshit amusing. Who'da thunk it.
And for the record, my mother is one of my most avid readers. She honestly enjoys shiny objects. Hi mom. Love you. *waves* Do mention my blog to her. She would be thrilled to hear that I have more gentle readers.
Next.
From AMG: Dear Larkin R. Dennis,
How are your studies going at Wash U in St. Louis? Please look into taking an ethics class...it appears that you have none. I understand all about free speech and all, but do you think that your university will embrace such a moron as one of their own? I would ventrue to guess not. Do you pay for your own tuition, or are your parents going to be oh-so-happy to see how wisely you spend your time on thier dime? I'll ask your family myself when I talk to them.
My studies are going great, thanks. I'm managing to pull off a rather solid 19 credits and maintain a social life to boot. As you may be able to tell, ethics isn't my bag, baby. I'd rather plunge into some psychology (as Anonymous seems to have discerned - hence "mind-fuck").
It would seem that Wash U. has embraced such a moron. For here I am. And they're always grateful for my contributions to the campus sexuality magazine and the Alternative Lifestyles Association (read BDSM/fetish/etc. club). I was recently made an officer. The yearbook will list me as "Head of Submissions."
No, I don't pay my own tuition. The University takes care of most of it, and my parents pick up the wee gap left uncovered by merit scholarships. Fortunately, none of that grant money has anything to do with my moral character, or else I'd be out in the cold, wouldn't I? Ah, me.
As for the review board, they tender free speech like a blistered pinky. I could write about the theoretical virtues of giving crack cocaine to eight-year-olds, and they wouldn't really care.
SHAZAM, MOTHAFUCKAH!
My readership is through the roof! Who are you people, and where did you come from? Did google finally pick up that really filthy post I made a couple of weeks back - the one that mentions "wall to wall cocks" and "Jenna Jameson's rack?" Did I make "Bitch of the Week" on www.sluttens4u.com? Has all my shameless URL-scribbling on bathroom walls payed off?
I don't know. But I hope at least a few of you decide to come back. If you do, I promise to review more porn!
Please?
Monday, November 28, 2005
"Meh. I dunno."
"Yes, you have. Look at your jeans. What's your secret? Atkins?"
"No . . . I guess you could call it the apathy diet."
"What do you eat?"
"Beats me. I don't really pay attention to it. I suppose bourbon, mostly."
Saturday, November 26, 2005
or
I Hope I Wasn't Supposed To Ask Him First
Yeah, I didn't ask him permission, but hopefully he won't be too mad, considering he gave me these two performance photos I'm about to display. What a handsome devil! Every time he bats his eyelashes, an angel gets its wings.
Everyone, on the count of three, eat your heart out. Ready? Here we go! One . . .
. . . two . . .
. . . THREE!
Haha! I am smitten as a kitten.
or
Giving Thanks That It's Almost Over
Christ. So Thanksgiving break is nearly gone, and before I know it I'll be back in Saint Louis, kicking it in my private apartment where I can do whatever the hell I want, without worrying about stepping on my beloved parents' toes. Welcome back, 3am-hard-rock-on-the-livingroom-sterio. Nice to see you again, kitchen-counter-BDSM. I'll be able to sleep past 9am, too, without one of my snot-brained siblings having a Scream Party outside my bedroom door. (Note, when I say "snot-brained," I mean it in the sweetest of big-sister fashions.) Yeehaw.
When I'm in Missouri, I don't really miss Texas. Despite the reunion of my family, there just isn't that much going on here.
The one productive thing I did down south was write a villanelle - a poem with 19 lines (5 tercets and a quatrain) and the world's most neurotic rhyme structure (aba aba aba aba aba abaa). Did I mention also that two lines repeat throughout the poem? It was very difficult to execute.
For the record, it is my most despondant poem to date. Hell, if this doesn't secure my place as the gothiest kid in advanced poetry workshop, I am not sure what will.
I wouldn't tell you, even if I could,
That day to day, I fear that I shall break.
The more I speak, the less I'm understood,
For any purpose openly alludes
To more excuses than I care to make.
I wouldn't tell you even if I could.
You asked me why the floor was streaked with blood,
But I withheld - for composure's sake.
The more I speak, the less I'm understood.
I've found that slings and arrows do most good
Against the grief that stalks me like a snake.
I wouldn't tell you, even if I could,
That neither rest, nor love, nor drug, nor food,
Relieves as much as any knife may take;
The more I speak, the less I'm understood.
So should my woe, despite the calm, intrude,
I'll slice it back and smile through the ache.
I wouldn't tell you, even if I could;
The more I speak, the less I'm understood.
Heartbreaking, I'm sure. Go cry in your coffee ice-cream. Toodles.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Scientists used to believe that a diamond was the worlds hardest substance. But then they met Chuck Norris, who gave them a roundhouse kick to the face so hard, and with so much heat and pressure that the scientists turned into artificial Chuck Norrisi.
Chuck Norris ate his weight at Godfathers pizza.
Chuck Norris carries a messenger bag. If you call it a purse, he pulls a baby out of the bag and throws it at you. The baby will blow up upon impact.
Chuck Norris has a stare that turns goat piss into gasoline.
Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mothers womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.
The original theme song to the Transformers was actually "Chuck Norris, more than meets the eye, Chuck Norris, robot in disguise," and starred Chuck Norris as a Texas Ranger who defended the earth from drug-dealing deceptions and could turn into a pick-up. This was far too much awesome for a single, however, so it was divided.
God offered Chuck Norris the gift to fly, which he swiftly declined for a +500 gain to roundhouse ability.
New Years Eve 1998, Chuck Norris was at a party, when the clock struck twelve, instead of kissing someone, Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked everyone at the party. He then proceeded to roundhouse kick everyone on the street, and the whole city. He has been doing this ever since.
Chuck Norris is the only male human to give birth. His only child - Vin Diesel.
Every time Chuck Norris does a roundhouse kick, an angel gets its wings.
One day Chuck Norris went shopping and he had grabbed the last can of pea soup off the counter. Just then Steven Segal, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Godzilla walked in and turned to Chuck Norris and said, "Give us the pea soup Buck Morris!" right then Chuck Norris turned around and went, "The name is Chuck Norris!" and he brutally annihilated all three of them. The pea soup tasted especially good that night.
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris defeated the Canadian Army with a rusty wooden spoon.
Chuck Norris can ejaculate through solid steel.
When Chuck Norris was denied a McGriddle at McDonalds because it was 10:35, He roundhouse kicked the store so hard it became a Wendys.
Chuck Norris drinks napalm to quell his heartburn.
A ducks quack does not echo. Chuck Norris is solely responsible for this phenomenon. When asked why he will simply stare at your grimly.
Chuck Norris was a hidden playable character on Mortal Kombat 2 on the Sega Genesis.
Chuck Norris once ejaculated solid gold into a river in India, bringing profit to the local villagers and causing him to be worshiped as a God.
Chuck Norris convinced Anakin Skywalker to join the Dark Side of the Force.
Chuck Norris is known for his modesty but readily admits that he is the 8th wonder of the natural world.
Chuck Norris beat up MacGyver using only a paper clip, a rubber band, and a pinecone.
Chuck Norris once tried to defeat Jackie Chan in a game of chess. When Norris lost, he won in life by roundhouse kicking Chan in the side of the face.
Chuck Norris roundhouse kick is so powerful, it can be seen from outer space by the naked eye.
Chuck Norris cant eat while standing upright.
Chuck Norris fought a pirate once. It was close but the pirate won. Chuck has been in a state of chronic depression ever since.
In Soviet Russia, Chuck Norris is still Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris doesnt believe in Germany.
One drop of Chuck Norris sweat can cure you of anything, even death.
Chuck Norris goes to the toilet once a month - no more, no less - if he needs to or not.
The letters in Chuck Norris name can be rearranged to spell doom in twelve different languages, including Esperanto, but not French.
Chuck Norris wears a live rattlesnake as a condom.
Chuck Norris has never been sick. Ever.
Chuck Norris can cut onions without crying.
Chuck Norris burned down an entire forest when he was experimenting with water.
There are in fact 31 letters of the English Alphabet however only Chuck Norris knows what the extra 5 letters are.
Chuck Norris is the only person ever capable of telling if an aircraft landed in soil by tasting it.
Chuck Norriss heart beats once every full moon.
Occasionally Chuck Norris will call up the Power Rangers just to say hi.
Chuck Norris signed the Declaration Of Independence, The Bill Of Rights, and the Constitution while plundering a poor Asian village.
The movie "The Ring" is actually just a Chuck Norris biography.
Chuck Norris has no concept of time; if you go to his house you wont find a single clock. When you ask to leave because its getting late he stares at you blankly until you sit back down.
If you want a list of Chuck Norris enemies just check the extinct species list.
Chuck Norris has never blinked in his entire life. Never.
Chuck Norris can believe its not butter.
Chuck Norris once ate a banana without having to peel it.
If Chuck Norris had a dollar and you had a dollar, Chuck would kick your ass and take your dollar.
Chuck Norris once fought off 42 ninjas blindfolded, while having sex with 3 women.
When Chuck Norriss wife burned the turkey one Thanksgiving, Chuck said, "Dont worry about it honey," and went into his backyard. He came back five minutes later with a live turkey, ate it whole, and when he threw it up a few seconds later it was fully cooked and came with cranberry sauce. When his wife asked him how he had done it, he gave her a roundhouse kick to the face and said, "Never question Chuck Norris."
We once had a bachelor party for Chuck Norris. He ate the entire cake before we could tell him there was a stripper in it.
Chuck Norris has beaten more people in hand-to-hand combat then you have seen in your entire life.
Every piece of furniture in Chuck Norris house is a Total Gym.
Ecstasy is actually made by extracting the special seratonin mixture found only the skull of Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris once shot a German plane down with his finger, by yelling, "Bang!"
Chuck Norris put the 'k in hardkore.
Chuck Norris volunteers at retirement homes just so he can push old people in wheelchairs onto the freeway.
In a recent interview, Chuck Norris told Entertainment Tonight co-host Mary Hart that his most memorable role was when he played the third breast on the hooker in "Total Recall".
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked the earth, thus creating the hole in the ozone layer.
Chuck Norris once did a back flip off the Great Wall of China.
Chuck Norris once pinned James Bond down with a single finger and forced him to say, "The names Norris; Chuck Norris."
Chuck Norris doesnt need to swallow when eating food.
Chuck Norris can break wood with his penis.
Chuck Norris can divide by Zero
Chuck Norris caught all 386 pokemon in just under 2.7 seconds. He says he wont trade any of them for anything.
If Superman and the Flash were to race to the edge of space you know who would win: Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris puts the ms on M&Ms.
Ironically, Chuck Norris hidden talent is invisibility.
Chuck Norris eats Transformer toys in vehicle mode and poops them out transformed into a robot.
The milkshake doesnt bring Chuck Norris to the yard.
Chuck Norris can eat a Rubix Cube and poop it out solved.
Chuck Norris can burp the alphabet. Backwards.
While Chuck Norris was on holiday in Spain, he ate some bad paella causing him to take the largest shit known to man. That shit is now France.
Norris backwards is Sinnor, which is Greek for Asian whore.
The Pope once accused Chuck Norris of heresy, but as it turns out, Chuck Norris is, in fact, the true Son of God.
In one episode of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Chuck Norris replaced Carlton for one scene and nobody noticed.
Contrary to popular belief, Chuck Norris was dropped at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Chuck Norris penis is considered a weapon of mass destruction.
Chuck Norris broke his own leg, purely for the sake of winning the Special Olympics.
CNN was originally the Chuck Norris Network but was later changed to a news station because the awesomeness of a Chuck Norris network kept blowing up satellites, TVs, and viewers eyeballs.
The evolution theory states that everything evolved from one living being. Chuck Norris is that living being.
Chuck Norris is where babies come from.
Chuck Norris has been in every porn video since 1985.
One day Chuck Norris was in fact killed when he round house kicked someone in the face so hard that it shattered the universe. But in heaven, Chuck challenged God to an arm wrestling match. Chuck won, and the universe was reformed.
Chuck Norris owns the greatest Poker Face of all-time. It helped him win the 1983 World Series of Poker despite him holding just a Joker, a Get out of Jail Free Monopoly card, a 2 of clubs, 7 of spades and a green ..4 card from the game UNO.
While walking on water in the Pacific Ocean, Chuck Norris ran into his friend Katrina, and she tried to seduce him. Chuck was not pleased about this, so he round house kicked her into New Orleans.
Chuck Norris knows how to cure AIDS, but will only reveal the solution if Ralph Macchio is publicly executed.
Chuck Norris invented Viagra.
If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you cant see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.
Chuck Norris bends steel with his mind.
Chuck Norris is the reason Jesus died.
Chuck Norris commands all five lions of Voltron simultaneously.
Chuck Norris is not a vegetarian. He knows that extended periods of vegetarianism only lead to a multitude of small vaginas growing on your skin until you eventually become a giant pussy.
Every time you litter, Chuck Norris cries, then hell roundhouse kick your grandma.
On the 7th day, God rested. Chuck Norris took over.
Had the priests in The Exorcist just said, The power of Chuck Norris compels you instead of The power of Christ compels you, the movie would only have been about 30 seconds long.
Everything tastes like chicken because its Chuck Norris favorite food.
Biologically, Chuck Norris is his own stepfather.
Chuck Norris invented a language that incorporates karate and roundhouse kicks. So next time Chuck Norris is kicking your ass, dont be offended or hurt, he may be just trying to tell you he likes your hat.
Chuck Norris once had sex with a polar bear, with his orgasm he created the third ice-age, which is also known as the second coming of the robotic Vin Diesel.
Rumor has it that the semen from Chuck Norris six-foot wang can cure leukemia, especially in small children.
Chuck Norris pimped your ride.
Chuck Norris consumes 87 cans of mayonnaise in a week.
Chuck Norris is German for Whales Vagina.
Chuck Norris invented water.
Chuck Norris is the leading cause of childhood obesity in America.
Chuck Norriss dick is so big, it has its own Dick. And Chuck Norriss Dicks dick is bigger than your dick.
Chuck Norris will never fully be male nor female. Doctors once asked him which he preferred. He gave them an ad for a Total Gym.
Chuck Norris once boned the Mona Lisa, which is why she smiles.
Chuck Norris smells like Jesus Christ.
Chuck Norris went looking for a bar but couldnt find one. He walked to a vacant lot and sat there. Sure enough within an hour and a half someone constructed a bar around him. He then ordered a shot, drank it, and then burned the place to the ground. Chuck Norris yelled over the roar of the flames, Always leave things the way you found em!
The first rule of Chuck Norris is you do not talk about Chuck Norris.
One time while sparring with wolverine, Chuck Norris accidentally lost his left testicle. You might be familiar with it to this very day by its technical term: Jupiter.
Contrary to popular belief, Chuck Norris, not the Blue Ringed Octopus of Eastern Australia, is the most venomous creature on Earth. Within 3 minutes of being bitten, a human being experiences the following symptoms: Fever, Blurred Vision, Beard Rash, tightness of the jeans, and the feeling of being repeatedly kicked through a car windshield.
Chuck Norris is Luke Skywalkers father.
Chuck Norris did not shoot the deputy or the sheriff, but he roundhouse kicked the crap out of both of them.
Chuck Norris ate an entire wheel of cheese, and then pooped in the refrigerator.
Chuck Norris does not use spell check. If he happens to misspell a word, he simply changes the actual spelling of it.
Chuck Norris has never given anyone the finger. However, it is believed that the event could flatten landscape within a 30-mile radius.
Few people know that President Jimmy Carter appointed Chuck Norris as Secretary of Awesome in 1978. This cabinet level position was later rescinded in 1981 after Norris refused to give up his title.
As well as being an actor, martial artist, and poet, Chuck Norris is also a world-renowned physicist. It was in this capacity that he once had a disagreement about steady-state theory with Stephen Hawking. Hence the Wheelchair.
Monday, November 21, 2005
or
I'd Slap You, But You'd Fucking Love It, Wouldn't You, Sicko?
Imagine a realm beyond time, beyond distance, and beyond social boundries; a realm where any fuckwit with a keyword can find your listing and spend all afternoon jacking-off to pictures of your cat. A realm of magic and dreams. And attention sluts. And me.
Welcome, gentle readers, to Myspace - pulsating orface of the internet. Watch your head. Atta girl.
So, yeah. These random men keep sending affectionate notes to my Myspace Message Center. Don't worry mom. They aren't THAT gross. Most of them are actually rather pathetic.
Take "Tom" for example:
My names (sic) Tom. I write screenplays, I study acting (sic). I saw your pic in locals and thought you were very pretty. SO hI (sick)
To which I replied:
Nice to meet you Tom. I write poetry. I study my navel.
Thanks for the compliment. I would rather be told that I'm beautiful than told that I'm intelligent; my wit has never been a subject of debate.
Show me something you've written. I'd like that. Especially if it's vulgar.
P.S. PSYCH!
Or how about "Dick?"
Message 1: I have a thing for girls who aren't picky. Especially the gin drinking kind.
Message 2: I didn't mean for that message to come off as letcherous as it probably did.
Are you the cute girl with blue hair I see lingering outside Olin Library occasionally around noon?
And my reply . . .
The girl outside of Olin? Yes and no. I haven't completed my M to F transformation yet.
But don't let that stop you, tiger. We can just pretend that "It" is a really big clit ;) <3 <3 <3
Not to mention "Harry" . . .
Hello. I a 27 year old submissive looking for a local mistress to beat the shit out of me. My interests include suffocation, paddling, rubber, water sports (Editor's note: that's pee-pee sex, kids. Don't try it at home. God forbid you might like it. Ugh!), brest (sic) worship, foot worship, humiliation, and cross dressing. I only have one pic in my profile, but if you want more, you can just ask me for them. (Editor's note: the pic was taken at an apalling angle and very blurry - but not so blurry that I found myself intrigued by the slim possibility of a handsome face.)
I'm very good at domestic chorse (sic) and would love to be your bitch, if only for a night. Let me know if you want more pics of me in an outfit.
I couldn't help myself. Devil take me . . .
Dear Harry,
You've got it all wrong. I'm not a dominatrix! I'm only 16. Didn't you read my profile? Anyhow, I don't think we would get along. I'm not a big fan of water sports because I broke my nose while waterskiing once. I don't really need any more bitches in my life, anyway. My mom is all the bitch I need!
P.S. can you send me more picks?
He never did.
Don't ask me where I've been. You don't want to know.
Well, if you really want to know, I got Shanghaied by a band of black jewish lesbian feminists. Before I knew what had happened, they had me chained to the back seat of their Volkswagon bus.
The first three days were hell. No food, no water, no way to sit down. I survived on vegan granola and biodegradable tampon wrappers. In the middle of the third night, I attempted to escape by chewing off my own hand. Unfortunately, I couldn't really see what I was doing. In the process, I managed to gnaw through the unbleached free-trade hemp rope around my wrists.
I couldn't just leave. When they woke up to do the morning sage smudge and pube scratch, they'd notice I was gone. They'd come after me. If I was going to escape, I'd have to escape once and for all.
So I slipped fifty hits of acid into the communal jug of organic apple juice. And, wee devil that I am, stayed around to watch the fun. When they formed a circle dance and started hooping like zebras, I decided that they were harmless. This time around, they thought I was a corporal manifestation of the Goddess. Maybe it's the blue hair. I dunno.
It was kind of cool, I guess.
But after a week and a half of flower wreaths and magic apple juice, I started to get bored. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love tempeh-on-a-stick. Loquacia's poetry can NOT be beat (you tell them, SISTAHHH). And by god if I didn't make some really cool art with my menstrual blood. But, you know, a girl's gotta keep on moving. That, and I really wanted to shave my pits.
So what have you been up to for two weeks?
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Or
Rave Reviews
Whether you know it or not, gentle readers, I've decided to take my craft to the next level. What better way to legitimize my writing than becoming a post-modernist?
I have only one problem: I'm not terribly sure what post-modernism is. What I know of it is vaugely wry, intellectual, and at times inscrutable. The dictionary wasn't much help - postmodernism n : genre of art and literature and especially architecture in reaction against principles and practices of established modernism. I think it also has something to do with drugs.
A few of my acquaintances took hallucinogenic mushrooms the other night. Ahah, I thought. An opportunity! I asked each of them to write something in my notebook. When they were finished, I arranged it into something I thought might pass as art.
Lo, my first venture into experimental post-modern flash fiction!
"Lackasnacka cigarette?" she asked, massaging her temples.
"Yes, by all means," I replied. I was floating out of my body, but in a sort of sexual way, knocking on doors and shaped like a shoe.
"Thank you!" Again, her idle gratitude. My eyes traced the line of her body, lingering at the juncture of her thighs and torso.
"Your. Your crotch," I said.
"I used to make love to fruit," she said, coyly. We kissed without tongue.
FIN
*************************
Also, last night, some of my friends and I attended Vertigo, the annual on-campus rave. It was alright, I suppose. Almost like clubbing. I wore my prom dress - the one with the flexible neon tubing and independent blinking LEDs - a smattering of glowsticks, and lots of glitter. Kay turned himself into a sparkling magnificence, flecked in stick-on diamonds, shimmer gel, glitter lip gloss, and black-light reactive clothing. The two of us cut an exquisite rug on the dance floor. (My god, the lad writhes like a flame. Zounds!) I danced quite furiously with my glowsticks, much to the delight of other partygoers. My dress got compliments. All was well.
If only the DJ's hadn't alternated between techno and hip hop. That's right. HIP HOP. AT A RAVE? I was incensed. I have known since I arrived in Saint Louis that Wash U's student body has deplorable musical taste. But hip-hop at a rave? That is a step too far. Honestly. What is the fucking appeal of a black man (usually) shouting over slipshod, repetative loops and beats?
SHOOT THEM IN THE EYE!
Thursday, November 10, 2005
or
I Feel Pretty
I've been awake since Monday morning. It's now Thursday afternoon. But that isn't the point.
The point is that I want to become a drag queen. Why? So I can have the "truly unique sensation of having natural feminine breasts," because "life is too short to miss this truly amazing experience."
And don't forget the Sexy Lady Transformation Mask. Finally, the secret to becoming a gorgeous girl in seconds:
Instantly transform yourself into a beautiful sexy woman with this quality female face mask.
Made from soft skin-like latex, it comes fully made-up with glamorous long black eyelashes, sexy eye make-up, red luscious lips, blusher, etc etc.
Ideal for transforming yourself in seconds, or for transvestites with bushy eyebrows, beards, moustaches etc.
This deluxe version comes complete with a long and gorgeous natural feminine wig attached, and fully made up with permanent make-up. Become a gorgeous girl in an instant!
What have I been doing with my life? All these years as a woman, trying to perfect what I had, when I could have just gone out and bought it!
Monday, November 07, 2005
It began with a dream that the state had placed me in an insane asylum. Although I felt that my cognition was sound, the doctors and orderlies behaved so strangely that I had no choice but to assume that I was indeed mentally ill and hadn't yet internalized the fact.
The dissonance of the situation disturbed me greatly. If I were as crazy as I seemed to be, how could I be sane enough to deduce my own madness? I fell into a morbid depression, which prompted the doctors to move me to "death row." They deemed me psychologically unfit - too mad for the real world - and therefore condemned me to death.
The orderlies moved me from my bedroom to a drab cell surrounded by bars. In the adjacent cells, I could see the huddled figures of other condemned men and women, weeping, swaying, screaming, cursing at no one in particular.
Suddenly, a siren pierced the air. A hundred heads turned in unison. A red light at one end of the corridor flashed on and off. Every cell swung open - except my own. The prisoners ran from their cages, leaving me to bash my fists on the steel bars in vain. I screamed and flung myself to the floor.
I am in my own bed.
But the sirens remain. How now? The police? No; I've heard this noise before. My memory churns back to a streaked, monochrome duck-and-cover film from the Cold War, the lowing air-raid siren, the crackling soundtrack, kids with their heads under their desks, smiling as their bodies fritter to oblivion. I imagine World War Three.
I can see the headlines now. Two Thousand Missourians Slain in Monday's Bombing. So Long Screwy, See You In Saint Louie.
I'm being silly, I think. But what if I'm not. I call a few friends. No one picks up. I look out the window. Not a person in sight. It's War of the Worlds all over again.
If the world's going to end, I'm going to eat junk food, I say to myself. So I do. I eat an entire box of pocky without any guilt whatsoever. I haven't felt this free since childhood. Even if I don't die, I'll need the energy to flee the city.
I'm considering whether or not whacking-off one last time would anger god when the phone rings.
Turns out University City was just testing its tornado siren.
I won't bore you with narrative. Here's the CNN version of the last 10 days.
My roomate - we'll call her Kitty - packed up her troop of plush Disney characters, the pots and pans, the frilly shower curtain, the wine, and the X-box, and moved out. Not a moment too soon, I must say! There's nothing so beautiful as having a three-person apartment to oneself . . .
. . . except maybe hosting a rollicking birthday party in said apartment. It was a costume party, in honor of Halloween. I had stocked an incredible bar, developed a lighting concept, and coated my appartment in faux spider webs for the occasion. Dozens of my peers turned out - a good number of them with gifts for me, bless their hearts. A good time was had by all. Especially me. I got terrifically soused, and managed to drunk-dial my mom before passing out in my bed a bit after midnight. The only unpleasant outcome of the party was a basket-ball sized hole in my living room wall. Oh well. It can be repaired.
I have a short story and a poem slated for publication in the next installment of X, our campus's sexuality 'zine. It's print. I'll take it.
Academic nonsense is keeps me good and anxious most of the time. Sometimes I question my major and my future career. My writing continues to stagnate.
Kay is coming with me to Texas for part of winter break. Hopefully, I can show him a good time in Houston. Our plans for new years involve some serious clubbing, possibly at Club 2401 or some rave. I will have to research the events. We'll see how it goes.
I would love to get another tattoo, but I'm too damned poor.
I redyed my hair.
I found a dollar.
