For Fudge cakes pt2

It has been two months since I have had sex. TWO MONTHS. My body is going to erupt.

I am empty

No words

Left

Only

Empty









Privates

Non sequitur 

I am considering making a bootycallTo poss off ze roommate

Bad person

6 days till Waikiki

Do people think you are really nice? I mean like, sooper dooper way too fucking nice so they are going to teach you a lesson by taking advantage of you, shitting all over everything, touching your motherfucking mis en place and asking you to make them food when you are FUCKING BUSY and then.... As it turns out they had this huge quinoa salad anyway? WHY ARE SO CHEAP AND WHY DO WANT TO EAT ALL OF VEGETARIAN LASAGNA FOR FREE. Why are you trying to control me and why do think I  am so fucking nice.   
 
I am almost, 110% a huge CUNT.    
 
Just because you haven't seen my face of disdain and disgust and hatred yet, does NOT mean it does not exist.  In fact, you are lucky and should be counting your blessed fucking stars that you haven't seen it yet because you would melt into a sphere of fear and remorse, coated Ina thin film of the sticky bronzer you wear.  
 
YOu would cease to resist in the alternate reality that is the fucking kitchen.   
 
Plus, it has been 34 days since I have had sex.  
Watch out. 

....ps LOVE YOU THOUGH!

So you decided to buy some lacy underthings even though! You are single! Good choices.

The best thing about spending a bijillion dollars on lacy underwear is that moment when you've put it all on, every bra and thong at the same time. You're sitting on your bed, poking your thighs deciding if you should even bother standing up to grab headphones so you can fall blissfully away into unawareness listening to the kooks, or if you should try crying and masturbating to your roommates current song choice, holiday inn. At the hotel motel wah wah. You choose headphones because,  shitty dance music from several years ago. So there you are, alone, laying down, mascara smudged all over your cheek and pillowcase.  You are a new shade of desperate today.  As your body prepares itself to start bleeding as womens bodies do, and in underwear that nobody cares about, will see, want torip off with their teeth, throw across the room, park, car.  As your phone lays beside you, lifeless cool silver whose function as a bootycall receptor has become defunct. As your roommate switches to smooth jazz and your iPod dies, charger out of reach, as your body changes shape and function, clothes eroding and reappearing, as you stretch and expand, as the cool smooth stream of gin and beer and vodcrans trickles its way inside of you, altering your insides. as your liver and heart, hand in hand with your moral composition transform into something new, leaving the archaic ideal of health as a distant memory.  As the cats, the  cloying and putrid liveliness of the cats, breeding and dying around you.  As you turn 32, you remain this way, alone.  

Why do people even GET excited about sex. You're just alone in the end.

  

2012-01-08 One thing I love about Vancouver..... My boobs are small enough to go to a bar and drink alone without being harassed by the ever insistent, perineal variety of douchenozzles that are rampant on these mean streets At least they are local though right?

Jacob and I broke upsies....... Alone again.

Have 29 days till Hawaii which leaves no time for the necessary opulence of emotional eating. Hate boys. Roommates leaving.

PLUS I think that, perhaps, there is a ghost in my room. My lamp keeps turning on and off every time I shift on my bed. I would rather deal with a ghost than the imminent danger of electrocution which is probably the case I should face...... But seriously why acknowledge my problems when I can pretend they are not even fucking there?

Like why IT ENDED.

Liiiiiiiike.....I am a huge crabby patty today.

OKAY SMILES PRETEND ITS ALLLLLLLLLL GUNNAR BE OKAY THIS IS SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE.

....and they taste like wet toilet paper.

Jacob and I are official. As in, we actually do stuff in the daytime now. It's one thing to have a boyfriend, it's quite another to have somebody that wants to see your shit in the daytime, on the street, in a mall. He would do annnnything for me when he's drunk as fuck, but does he feel the same way sober? The girl with the Bartender sucking her boobs.

However, the world is my oyster, or more precisely the world is a cornucopia filled with aphrodisiac/sexxxytime magical vegetarian oysters that never expire because I am 21 and everybody loves 21yo girls.

Sooooooooo should I feel bad about that time I slept with the gm of xxxxxxxxxx, where by the WAY my fav female chef in all of vancouver is situated, in whistler, for no better reason than I was MODERATELY MOTHAFUCKING DRUNK. This was not even me making shitfaced decisions, I was simply in an emotional upheaval over world and personal events that are so far beyond my control. Whew.

It was amazing by the way.

I don't think I like having sexxxytime with Jacob anymore, maybe I am secretly still in that non slutty phase I was discussing earlier. Maybe his smell repulses me.

Perhaps I AM a hoe-bag and need to come to terms with this verifiable truth before the corrosive consequences of such a state of existing dissolves every good part of my life...

Who knows? Muahahahahah!

At Lolita's by Myself Eating the Fruits of my Sangria

Do I have a gem for you. Two pearls of wisdom gleaned from two wizened and pearly tooth gents at work: Stay meano to keep em keen, and someone always wears the pants, Love is not equal. So I would like to believe that with Jacob I wear the pants in regards to my affinity for the enigmatic and his curiously persistent nature. I don't want to be a dominant figure with Jacob though! he is so perfect and sweet that I would do anytimg for him to be so exquisitely infatuated with life forever. Which is clearly a submissite ideology right? But that makes me want to barf normally? Egads. But yea, no pants for me. I an emotionally incapacitated and clearly suck at debison making. So much so that I have already ripped these gosh forlorn metaphorical dry clean only trousers off, bareing my soul. leaving us to stare at each other awkwardly, both of our privates exposed to the elemental desires of the other. Christian tells me no love is equal though. which is obvious as Jacob's privates are ginormous, and at best I am a half hearted b cup. So what is actually happening between us?

The undisputed cockfaced douchiness of kids with beards and receding hairlines.

Have you ever hated someone before? I have a red hot poker hate on for someone at the moment. Usually, when I've been wronged I zen out and find understanding within myself and generally try and waste as little energy as possible on the offending individual. This time, shit is different. No zen, just rage. You see, tony has really outdone himself this time. He has proven that he is undoubtedly the most disgustingly old and decrepit human being in the entire land, inside and out. He live tweeted that I was defecating in his washroom. Paraphrasing here, but this is what I read as I awoke nonchalently , groggily in his bed, attempting to rouse myself with an invigorating perusal of the ol news feed. Nothing like hearing the girl you just humped taking a dump in your washroom. Jeeesusssss. 2hours ago. For fuck sakes at this point I was stiiiiil under his motherfucking sheets. He is laying, supposedly sleeeeping right beside me. He is absolutely dead meat. I would say my ability to withhold explosives that morning, such as diarreaha, rage, explosive blind rage violence, explosive swearing and cussing out, was a true testament to my innate nature as a cool cucumber. Because in that moment, I did not freak. I lounged, completely at my leisure. Got dressed, made tea, watched robo cop and 30 rock with him. I pretended to be just a rolling heap of good spirits, chuckling at liz lemon and her comparitively maneagble love entanglemnts. I took my time. And then the time came, I put on my jacket, gathered my belongings, carefully tousling my hair in one of his thousands of mirrors. I walk back to the bed, leering over him smiling the most hateful smile I have ever felt sprawled acrossbmy face. I gave his tummy a little tickle and he grinned, and wiggled a hit like a little puppy dog, eyes half closed. In his little boy bliss. And then I punched him in the stomach. I generally do not like hurting people, and the sound of pain he made as I made impact normally would have made me sick. Whimpering and rolling over,alone, in between his sheets he asks why I did that. I zip up my jacket and simply say your fucking facebook. In my usual sing song voice , I call goodbye to him from the front hall and let myself out. Now let us try and understand the actions of this erextile dysfuntion prone, senile old monkeys buttfaced man. ......... ..... Nope. He is an insecure, conniving, passive agreesive sack of damaged goods that needs to alienate himself from every girl he fucks because he is a misogynist fuck that has mummy issues. Back to me. The status was so woefully painful for two reasons. 1) I didn't even poo! I promise! In order to doooo that I need a calm and peaceful environment. Such as MY OWN BATHROOM. 2) annnnnd yes. Facebook. Can facebook be a shit free zone? Pleasaaase. And also old people. Why do I put myself through this, hairy wrinkly old person bodies with mean spirited one dimensional personalities. Barf.