my papa bear's home.
*happy dance*
yaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
i missed him so much.
the first hour he was home, he held me in those big sexy arms and told me how much he missed me.
then i got some dick.
that sumbitch knocked my uterus into my throat.
'twas lovely.
i loverz him.

*****

i was gonna do an audio post but when i played it back, i sounded like a 13 year-old boy who just hit puberty.
i squealed like 7 times.
and said "y'all' in pretty much every sentence.
just atrocious.
so yeah, that's a no-go.

*****

i was really fucked up last night. usually when i take percocet, the only thing it does is make me itch like a feening crackhead and slightly horny like the nympho i am. so i drank some wine hoping it would put me to sleep right away.

hell naw shawty.

the last thing i remember is laying on the couch, sending text messages to J and then getting pissed off cause he didn't wanna talk to me cause he was out having fun while i was home alone missing his punk ass. i threw the remote control at the dog and called her some names. after that, i don't know what the fuck happened. i woke up this morning on the kitchen floor with a sock on my hand and the dog spooning my head.

but you know what?
i don't even care.
cause my baby's back.
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!

!!!!!

!!!

!

*****

while i was talking to my sister today, she asked me something about how i blogged. like, is there a method to my madness?

it's different for different bloggers.

some people set out to blog for an audience. i think they actually sit down and think 'hmmm, what will make these people, whom really shouldn't matter to me but do, like me and want to continue to come back to my blog cause i need to be liked by dozens of people who are hundreds and thousands of miles away from me.'
that's probably a bit extreme but i don't really give a fuck.

i blog for me. it's like writing in my journal. the theme changes as relationships and time progress. when i sit down here in my little chair with cumstains all over it, i just go with whatever's on my mind at that particular time. and bam. the lurkers who deserve to die a brutal death have something to keep themselves busy for 10 minutes or so.

whenever i catch myself blogging for an audience, that means it's time for a break. you bitches don't pay me enough for me to be thinking about how you're gonna react to what i write.
i like for y'all to not lurk and give your opinions about whatever i've written [it may take a little time, but i always comment back!] .but even if i had no readers, the content and style would be exactly the same.
what you see read is what you get.
if you like it, fine.
if you don't, move the fuck on.

i just don't understand the constant lurking. that's some disrespectful shit and you're not getting away with it here. i'm gonna keep posting screenshots of your stalkerish activity until you stop and bow down to a true pimp. that's how i roll.

but what's even worse than the lurking is when people a certain someone uses anonymouse to read my stuff. i know i've made it pretty clear that i don't like you, but that doesn't mean you have to try to hide the fact that you're still reading my shit. hell, you proved long ago you have the 'nads of a 5 year old but damn, it's a fucking blog. grow a pair.

*****

tomorrow's gonna be a long day so papa and mama bear are gonna spend the rest of the night practicing making baby bears.
did i mention i missed him like whoa?
cause i did.
very very much.
i'ma fuck 'im silly and lick his scrotum.
toodles!



*name that movie.

Labels: this is who i am

--i refused to spellcheck @ 10:53 PM | |