It must be the fur talking

October 15, 2009 § Leave a comment

pussyMy bodily functions are restricted to laying horizontally and occasionally walking my yellow lab who has grown painfully attached to me. The rest of my days are spent in the academy with a russian ballet teacher that is obsessed with stretching my legs and working them silly, and later dancing freely with loose hair and barefoot. But all is well because the weather is getting chillier and it makes me insanely happy. Even though I am obsessed with warm weather, I can no longer bare it, so on with the coats and tights, oh my I have missed you so!

Last night while keeping an episode of sex&the city running in the background [I haven’t fallen into that trap yet, the DVDs are sitting in their box and will continue for a really really long time, until then an occasional episode “hearing” is alright, so long as I control the regularity of SATC intake.k?!] she walks in randomly, as if I have invited to her to sit and chat and casually slips in the idea that I should also do writings just like Carrie.

OMFG Woman. Do you know how incredibly BORING that shit is to read? I mean, we all see the images and the funny clothes, but if we close our eyes to avoid the sight sense, we are left with a bad narration and SJP’s annoying shrill noise when she screams AT EVERYTHING. And besides, in order that I write shit like that, about relationships and sex and living an independent life in NYC, I would actually have to be accomplishing either/all of these objectives. And obviously I am achieving NONE. The only relationship I am in with is my dog and my shrink which are both very VERY co-dependent and unhealthy, the most sex I am getting is by watching it on my computer or in the movies and also the times I am getting my tattoo-and you can’t even call that sex because, ew, and yeah. And I am also NOT achieving an independent lifestyle unless you consider my outburst of schizophrenia¬† by developing an actual world where I am achieving all and even more. But worry not, my existence in the virtual world is similar to my spin-off theory of SATC where Carrie’s character is really just an 85 year old woman living in a garbage can in NYC and Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha are all her other personalities and Mr. Big is the leader of a rat pack [an actual NYC rat] that keeps following her and probably gave her some sort of disease and will likely cause her to die, alone.

You see I am not entirely pessimistic.I sure hope you’re getting at least a good laugh out of my misery, otherwise these efforts are all useless and I should just quit the world of internet as soon as I can. Or maybe, I should start spending more time online and rock the virtual world by playing shitty time wasters like Second Life. At least I can join in on a group sex room and get some action there.


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