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Mar. 25th, 2016

I want to Believe

So, the world continues.

I am alive. You are not. This is a dream.


Bored now. For some reason, after a warmer than normal fall/winter, followed by a colder than normal winter, all my plants are taking their sweet ass time to bud and flower. Even the grass is just now starting to send up green shoots. We've been receiving plenty of water and warm weather (except for the cold snap earlier in the week), so, I can't figure it.

Writing goes. That is all.

Anyone else out there still alive? I do check almost every day, but, posting feels like a chore I don't enjoy anymore. This sucks.

Feb. 5th, 2016

I want to Believe

Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby!

Hip, Hop, Happity birthday, rose_cat! I know you are out there, I can hear you breathing!

How goes it there with you? Love being lovely? You having a good day? I certainly hope so. You deserve it.

Hugs and kisses.


Jan. 21st, 2016

I want to Believe

Happy...what was the date again?


Dear Facebook,

What is the date? Things have been a little hectic lately, there's a date around now that's at the back of my brain, and I feel there is something importa...

Facebook: 6 Billion ads and posts from racists, assholes, narcissists, oversharing family, game requests...

Oh, yeah, that's why we don't visit facebook.

Dear Tumblr,

Tumblr: Porn. Porn. Story. Porn. Social Justice firebombing campaign against non-fans of some singer no one ever heard of. Porn. Porn. Porn. Fanfic.

Never mind.

OKay. I know there is an important date coming up. I just can't remember what exactly. I knew it yesterday before more shit came down. Now, I know it today, I just can't quite recall. To the LiveJournal, I guess.

Dear LiveJournal,

Livejournal: So, you're coming back two days in a row. What's wrong? Did someone die? Am I finally your tenth choice site again? Your other whores all busy? You know what, I don't care. I just don't care anymore. Here's your 35 missed posts, take them and leave.

Okay. What the hell was that about? Goodbye.


Dear Livejournal, I'm sorry.

Livejournal: You missed a friend's birthday yesterday. I usually remind you about these things, but you don't check your messages from me. That will teach you to screen your calls, ya bastard.

There are no messages. I always get the important...Wait! Birthday! Oh.

Uh...Happy Belated Birthday, huntersglenn?

I really did intend not to forget! It's just, I had no idea what freaking date it was until this afternoon when I woke up for the hundredth time. Not sleeping great fucks with your timing and schedule. But, enough about me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! *Throws confetti* How the hell you doing? Did you have a good time? You get everything you wanted? Any of your enemies get locked up? Are you old enough to qualify for historic building status yet?

Aug. 21st, 2015

I want to Believe

Belated than never?

Happy belated birthday, TK. I hope it was a great one. You deserve the love, hon!

I've been dealing with remodeling, being sick, and spacing out due to mold exposure or else I would have done this Wednesday.

My love to you, take care.

May. 7th, 2015

I want to Believe

Happy Birthday, G!

in_the_bottle Happy birthday, dear! I hope you have a great one and enjoy the day. Maybe take the day off?

Mar. 26th, 2015

I want to Believe

The Civilized Methedone.

Now that I've shared my stories with the public, the ones I wanted to continue writing, I've found that I don't want to continue sharing them for free. They are some of my favorite ones and people are clicking the links. If they are reading, they aren't letting me know, but that's part of the reason I want to go radio dark.

Yet, uh, I know that is purely selfish. I just want to have something finished so I can publish it for sale. I'm writing, getting hits, (damn few) but I have nothing to show for it. The feedback and Kudos came from the same person. So, not a lotta incentive to continue them. But, I chose them because I wanted to write them.

I need a hit! The glow from the feedback has worn off and I need feedback, I'm jonesing for it. FEEDBACK ME!

So, I figure this. I write them, and in say, 10 months, when the story is finished, I leave it up for about a week, then take it down, burn the negatives, and post it for sale! I'll warn the readers ahead of time, but I'm going to at least be a two-time publisher by the end of this year. Mark my words!

Mar. 15th, 2015

I want to Believe

Dear Rappie, a Sci-fi fic for your birthday has continued.

Dear Rappie,

These times are those that try tomato torilla souls ttt. I am certain that our last correspondence have left you feeling neglected, but fear not, your birthday gift is to be continued. Down below, in fact.

Untitled Original Story, or, Rap's Birthday Sci-fi fic! - Part 1: A Growing Boy - Chapter 1: The Etiquette of Survival.

Part...chapter??? Yes, this will be a multi-stage rocket epic space opera. There are themes and technologies in here I have been working on for ten years. Rap, will you join me and continue reading it?

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Mar. 14th, 2015

I want to Believe

Original fic: Whispered Words In An Empty Memory.

Summary Judgement: Jackson Whey is rescued by an angel after a serial killer leaves him for dead with his girlfriend in a park. Jackson cannot remember his past and believes the angel was just a figment of his imagination. The police come looking for him after they link his near-death to several unsolved murders. He is haunted by the angel, appearing and disappearing without leaving any proof of his existence. Miracles start to happen as he is seduced by his mysterious guardian and the media start to take notice. Sightings of a dark stranger with wings set off a firestorm of speculation, and people begin to believe the end days are upon them. The 'angel' wants something from Jackson, but he's terrified of what that might be.

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Mar. 13th, 2015

I want to Believe

Someone talk about me!

Have you ever taken your clothes off in front of a bunch of people and then been completely ignored?

That's how it feels to post several stories and only get a couple hits on them. Sure, it's the beginnings of them, but some of those beginnings are longer than 80% of what is out there. The length is no excuse. I even tagged them with popular tags, I chose these stories for that reason.

Still...just a couple hits. Nothing else.

I feel like that one stripper with the peg leg, no tits, and a face even a mother would send back to the manufacturer.

Mar. 12th, 2015

I want to Believe

Dear Rappie, a Sci-fi fic for your birthday has begun.

Untitled at the moment, but it could change any moment now. I've been starting a lot of new stories lately and I'm getting good at it. It's so nice and I decided I was ready to get to the real work: Science Fiction.

Tonight, I wrote this. I hope it pleases. This is a little confusing in that it's not specified what they are talking about, but it's a prologue. This is to establish a certain plotline and maybe the tone of the story. I hope I succeeded as this one is a passion of mine.

Without further adieu, I present "Untitled Original Story, or, Rap's Birthday Sci-fi fic!"

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Mar. 7th, 2015

I want to Believe

For Owl Your Days.

My rabbits are gone. One disappeared yesterday, the other went missing today. I've found no signs of predation or holes for them to have dug out of. The burrow was sealed yesterday when I inspected for the missing rabbit. So, I have no clue.

I think this means an owl got them both. I'm just sick over this.
I want to Believe

Why do you hate your titties?

One of the things I've noticed that's disturbing (besides those godawful ed hardy inspired tattoos) is that a lot of people are piercing their nipples now. Before, it was something a few people did to feel sexually adventurous. Now, every soccer mom and boring fat guy in dockers has their DDs flayed open with shrapnel. It was okay and a little mysterious to see one before, a little stud that drew the eye maybe.

Now, you got bitches with hoops so big you could hang dishtowels from them. Guys without nipples have studs just so you can find their pecs. Even grandmas are getting tingling sensations from their nipbars heating up faster than their flesh where the titty's fallen in their oatmeal because her robe came undone.

Why you wanna treat your titties like that? What has your titty done to you? Titties are fragile, special things. They like a little rubbing, some slight stimulation, even a few twist now and then, but they don't care for the serial killer with the six-inch stiletto being shoved through them.

Love your titties. Treat them right. And, if you do get them pierced, keep it cleaned. You never know when your titty might get sick and have to leave you. After all, titties is precious.

Mar. 4th, 2015

I want to Believe

Legalise Weed.

If people want to smoke those plants out of my garden, go ahead and let them. I don't see what the big deal is. Long as they aren't growing in my tomatoes, what do I care?

I hear there is a chance that I may one day cease to exist. I highly doubt that. You people are so gloomy.

SSDD. That is all.

Also, it was 87° here today. How was your snow?

Feb. 28th, 2015

I want to Believe

Poehles Closed.

I can honestly say I hate Amy Poehler. After 4 seconds of Parks and Recs, I have no doubt in my mind that I would not only push her into a blast furnace, I would do everything in my power to see her stuck in it while it was being turned on. Her and Tina Fey. I don't think people like that should be allowed to exist. They just aren't people, they're...kindling for a blast furnace. That's the only thing I can think of hot enough to destroy the awful that they are. We can even do it ceremonially, like the death scene in Terminator 2, just lower them into the smelting pot and then, tssst, the world becomes a better place.

That and the cast of The Big Bang Theory. It's not fucking funny. It's not. It's not witty, it's not intelligent, it's not funny. I know comedy, I've been laughing on and off for 32 years, this is not fucking funny!

Dry humor, blue collar, kings of comedy, puns, insult comics, these are all funny. This is comedy.

Some asshole wearing mismatched clothing and black glasses doing things awkwardly with a stupid smile is not fucking funny! It wasn't funny when Wally did it in the 50s, it wasn't funny when that little fucking retard did it in the 90s, it's not fucking funny now.

At this point, I would pay current 3D movie price to see a snuff film starring the cast from any NBC, CBS, or ABC sitcom. The more graphic, the better.

I'm watching Judgment At Nuremberg at the moment and I am laughing more than I ever have during these shows. A nazi war film, with actual images of the death camps that I have to pause or fast forward through some parts because I'm trying not to cry. Yes, I am saying nazis are funnier than 30 Rock and How I Met Your Mother. Nazis. And, no, for the ghouls in the audience, I'm not laughing watching this movie. I've been watching it on and off for the past 2 days it's so disturbing, but I need to do the research.

It's not fucking funny!

Feb. 27th, 2015

I want to Believe

One last time.

Goodbye, Spock.


RIP Leonard Nimoy.

Feb. 24th, 2015

I want to Believe

Spooks In Da Haus.

Is it wrong that I only want to write a story about Florida now? I've lived in many places, but I don't want to write about them anymore. The setting for my stories is Florida and Florida alone. I hope to someday return there.

Have you ever wanted the ability to strike multiple people dead with lightning? There's just...millions of people I'd do it to in a flash. Not racist or religious based, but stupidity based. Just, zap them all. I'd start with D.C., then go to Hollywood, then I'd track down the users of twitter and just zap everyone on Twitter. Good or bad, Twitter has to go and the people who use it, too. ZAP! Gone. Next, I'd hop over to Alabama, then Arkansas, Kansas, back over here to Tallahassee, to Austin, you see where this is going. Zap! ZAP! ZAP! Then, I'd start zapping my family. First, Jigga, then my sister. Then, cousins, uncles, the family in Indiana. I'd probably be busy for a while, there's a lotta stupid people out there.

I got rid of my kittens last week to my cousin. This week, my cat is slutting it up with half the neighborhood. I've been disturbed by how easy it is to call her a slut and a whore, but that doesn't stop me. I think I enjoy those words far too much to stop using them out of any sense of decency. Hell, if I cared about decency, I wouldn't call my brother Jiggaboo. He fits the stereotype, but, it's still not right to say it. Jigga gonna be Jigga, so, I call him Jiggaboo. Oh well, next week, my slutty cat gets neutered and she'll never slut it up with 4 male cats again. Enjoy your time with your pussy, baby, it's about to be snatched right out of your ass!

Let's see...how can I be offensive now? Hmmm. Oh, yeah, I hate all you muthafuckin' tiggas. Tiggas is wack, and I'm tired of them. There's nothing wonderful about tiggas, and if there were none, it would be truly wonderful. Rabbit power!

Feb. 18th, 2015

I want to Believe

Brace Yourself For The Shit Storm.

So, the front yard flooded this afternoon despite no rain in sight. The septic had backed up for the 3rd time in 2 years. I told dad about it, but he was too busy into his damn show to care. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Well, asshole, a little help would have been nice.

I threw on my shirt, jacket, and some flipflops because it's god damn cold out. With my shovel and minnow net in hand, I dug out the drain pipe cover and the water came rushing back in. The whole thing was saturated and flooded. I had to take my jacket off and go at it bare handed to get the capstone off. I barehanded the excavation to keep mud from flowing in when dad eventually came out with my brother and a bamboo pole to bust up the plug.

Turns out, for a 3rd time, old fat from hamburger had clogged it up. I've been telling them to dump it in the can, but mum and Jigga said it was fine long as we used ridX. Well, we haven't been using ridX and the thing got clogged again. That fat was like cement. And man did it freaking stink. But, I got all I could get out and the damn thing drained like nobody's business in to the tank.

Score one for me!

I put the capstone back in place and buried it by hand. Then had to run around cleaning things and putting them away, all while barefoot on ice cold muddy dirt and 40mph wind in 45° weather. So lovely, so sweet smelling.

Fucking septic tank!

Feb. 11th, 2015

I want to Believe

In This Silence.

You gotta wonder the point of writing when all you meet is silence. If I was doing it just to explore the ideas in my head, I could act it out. I have a vivid fantasy life, there's no point in writing it down if this was only for me. No, I have to be a masochist and want to share it, to get others' opinions.

Silence speaks volumes.

There's almost nothing worse than putting yourself through hell, weeks, months, even years at a time for something no one else gives a damn about.

Doing research these days feels like a waste of time. So much work goes into setting up for a slow buildup, and no one wants that anymore. No one wants a Bolero, they want EDM. Who cares about the characters, they're all cookie cutter, what they want is the cheap action and predictable plots. The thing is, what's it matter what happens to the characters if you don't know them? There's no huge emotional impact, you can pick up the book and put it down, and you won't think twice about it afterwards. There's no subtlety in what is written, either, you just go through the motions and it's done. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.

So, I'll stop putting so much effort into my works and just write the basic plots. I'll get them done quicker and I won't think about it again afterwards. My fantasies will stay my fantasies. Maybe I'll even sell a few books.

Either way, I'm done weaving.

Feb. 10th, 2015

I want to Believe

Original Fic: Untitled WereFox Fic.

Original fiction

Roughcut Summary: Luka is forced to leave what's been home for the past 6 years with his sister, and move across the country to be with family he's never known. The burden of having to take care of his family meant he had to quit school and start working. Free of his responsibilities, he can now pursue his education, but requires a diploma. The local high school is a former trade school and finishing academy that specializes in helping troubled young adults fast track their education. Facing every adult's nightmare, he must return to school and deal with life as a legal adult at the same time. Thankfully, the local social club seems to think he's the perfect charity case and prospect for membership in The Orchid Society. He can't really put his finger on it, but something about their obsession with foxes is oddly disturbing.

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Feb. 5th, 2015

I want to Believe

Rose_Cat, you are a mouse trap!

Happy birthday, you fluffy kitty!

There's not much to say besides, you are a great friend and life should you treat you better. I hope today is fun and full of adventures that make you smile. Don't think of it as getting older. Think of it as one less year on your contracts.

Love you lots, sweetheart.

Happy, hoppy, birthday!

Feb. 4th, 2015

I want to Believe

OMFG! JUSTICE! Tragically funny, but still Tragic.


A personal plane went down in Colorado last May. Both the pilot and the passenger were killed, but no one on the ground was hurt. The NTSB investigated and found the cause in the GOPRO onboard cameras.

Selfies. The pilot and passenger were busy taking selfies and lost control of the crash.

No, this was not a cutaway scene from Family Guy. This actually happened. Yes, I am laughing.

Satan, did you belatedly remember it was my birthday?

Jan. 31st, 2015

I want to Believe

Military HA!

Russia is getting 50 'advanced' intercontinental ballistic missiles, aka ICBMs, to 'modernize' their military prowess to prevent american dominance and superiority.

Bitch, we have lasers. Your argument is invalid.

Jan. 29th, 2015

I want to Believe

No Coop For You!

So, after yet another fucking request for documents on Monday, they decided today that we don't qualify for a mortgage to buy a new house for our property. So nice to be dicked around for 3 fucking months only to be told what we already knew.

To the finance industry: Go fuck yourselves.

Jan. 26th, 2015

I want to Believe

You Know It's Pretty Bad When...

Someone would rather click on Buzzfeed's mindless clickbait list diarrhea than even go near your site. When I see a particularly interesting title on one of my many news aggregator sites, I always run the cursor over it. I've been burned before. Everytime I see Jezebel.com pop up, I hear the Family Guy Margot Kidder parody start to screech in my ear. It's like when you see a link to something on The Wallstreet Journal and hear a wet fart followed immediately by someone inhaling deeply. Or, they see it's by The Daily Mail and suddenly smell denim burning.

Jan. 25th, 2015

I want to Believe

Save Your Work!

Tonight, I went looking for some of my stories I started in 2013. I've been thinking about which ones I'm going to be working on as I am setting up a schedule. To my horror, I found one of my folders was missing the stories in it. They were just gone. Another folder, the stories had been replaced with copies of files from my harddrive. The original folder's contents were all gone. I can only think I deleted the original files by accident when transferring them from my old dying laptop.

Thankfully, I wasn't anything more than horrified. See, I was impatient and desperate for attention. I needed reviews. So, I posted what I had written to my old writing journal on Dreamwidth. I have the stories, just not the outlines and notes. Thankfully, I know the plot and details. It's just, they are gone. I am lost without my work, and this would have left me devastated for weeks.

Guess it's a good thing I'm so damn needy. What the old philosophers said is true.

Back it up. Back it up. Back it up. Back that big ass up.

So true.

Jan. 24th, 2015

I want to Believe

Herlarious On OWN.

The things I learned from watching HERlarious on own:

1. Wanda Sykes isn't always funny.

2. Black people be like "WHAAAT!" and white people be like "oh, you."

3. A grating, whiny voice makes great stage presence.

4. Comediennes are women who aren't all that interested in comedy so much as talking.

5. Group mentality is a viable defense in a court of law.

6. Some people are really good at doing impersonations...of Dresden, 1943.

Oprah's early-onset dementia is nothing compared to her own fucking ego.
I want to Believe

Mr. Cub Himself!

The lights in Chicago won't shine as bright tonight as Mr. Cub himself has died. Ernie Banks was 83. A city and a legion of fans will be in mourning.

Time now for the seventh inning stretch.

Jan. 22nd, 2015

I want to Believe

AHS: Freak Show.

I guess I really did love this season. It hurts that the show is over and I am happy with the ending. This is rare. So very few shows get it right and this one did.

I won't spoil it for you, but it ends like you think it would in the land of twilight and dreams. That's actual twilight, when mysteries come to life, not that god awful sparkly mormon vampire garbage.

This doesn't hurt as much as the Pepper episode, but god damn, these people know how to stab you in the heart.

And fucking Hannibal doesn't premier until April or May. Fuck! Vikings better get here soon or I will go on a rampage.

Jan. 20th, 2015

I want to Believe

Hippy Birdday!!!

Happy birthday, huntersglenn!!!

I know you're old getting older, so, I thought to make this one memorable. I was going to have so many celebrations, balloons, fireworks, fire eaters, clowns, a flying contortionist, all sorts of wonderful things. It's just too bad you're getting older, which means you won't remember this anyways. So, I'll just offer you a fond 'Happy Birthday, dear!' and move on.

Happy birthday, my friend. I hope this one is better than all the others combined. You are very dear to all who know you, and I want you to know I am happy to have a friend like you.

I'm not going to tell you to smile more. I am going to tell you to kick more butt, which, I know, always makes me smile more.

Happy birthday.

Jan. 17th, 2015

I want to Believe

Don't you, I Say, Don't You Call Me A Chicken, You Chicken!

Well, the chickens were doing great. No less than 10 eggs a day in a week's time. Now, we're getting 8 and now 7 a day. I had dropped the mid-day feeding because I slept and they were getting too much food, but I'm going to have to pick it back up it seems. They need the extra protein. Greedy bastards.

I need to start writing, but, I've been a little distracted again lately. You see....Look, over there! *runs*

Jan. 11th, 2015

I want to Believe

OMG!!! It's Possible To Be Nice!

Has there been a time in your life that you've lost everything or almost everything you held dear? How long did it take you to recover? Did you recover?

A large part of the reason I am so bitter and raging on LJ is that very little in my life has ever been worth celebrating. All but a few of the friends I've had over time are gone from my life. I've lost all my worldly possessions twice. I've been driven from my school, my home, from extended family for things I could not control. In almost every situation, I've seen the worst our species has to offer and I'm tired of it.

I'm a realist, I know the world isn't as bad as I've seen it. I'm not great at the things I feel I can do. There are a lot of things I don't know and will never even be aware of. I am wrong about things that I know are 'right' deep inside me. Some of the problems in my life are solely my own making and I can never fix that because I simply don't want to. It kills me some of the things I've done because I can never make it right, but those things are only with the people I care about, which makes it worse than if they were actual crimes. I will continue to try to make it up to them, and that is the true atonement, as forgiveness can never be fully achieved.

Above all else, I miss my friends.
I want to Believe

Peggy Loves Al, Yeah, Yeah, YEAH!

Is it too much to ask that people who type out something longer than a tweet actually pay attention to some basic things like capitalization, some punctuation, and using the right words?

I'm not asking for people to be perfect. I don't want people to be perfect. But, god damn it, if you're going to post something to LJ, at least don't make it look like you had to use a pencil in your teeth to do it.

To all the retards out there: Yea is not Yeah. It has not ever been yeah. It will never be yeah. It is yea and only yea. If I had the ability, I would kill everyone with a lightning strike that typed yea and meant yeah.

Everyone in favor: 100 yeas. 0 nays. The motion passes.

That is all.
I want to Believe

No State Like Intestate.

There's a naked tetherball in the playground area.

All right, at this point, we are still waiting for final approval for a house. 2 months and we're still being dicked around by the company. It seems to be hinged upon whether we can hang on long enough for the credit scores to recover or grow sick of the constant requests for more paperwork. One would think that entities in the same criminal enterprise would communicate a little better. I guess it takes too fucking long to forward relevant paperwork in a file, let alone the entire file.

"Yes, I know you sent it to them, but they are them, and I am me, and I don't have it, so, I need it, and no, I won't send it to the next person in this conga line to hell either." This should be the motto of the finance industry.

We keep getting requests for the same bit of information, mainly the property tax and income tax documents, that cover two things, the value of the land without the trailer, and mum's job. The first is that the property is valued at 12k without the trailer, but we owe 32k, and the company is wanting us to pay a fee/down payment/blood of the first born, something, but they can't agree on how much, if anything. As for the second issue, Experian still has my mum listed as working for a job she quit 2 1/2 years and 5 jobs ago.

For some completely batshit reason, people keep using the credit agencies. And people in the industry wonder why everyone else wishes they'd die in horrible, yet creative, ways.

Jan. 9th, 2015

I want to Believe

Gonna Terro Yo Asso Up!

Okay, so I am still plotting that superhero crap. It's driving me to distraction because I am pullin threads left and right. It's a bit like weaving and, frankly, I'm sick of it. Why can't I just be happy with what I have already and just finish the god damn thing? There are a dozen other plots I want to get started on, but the outline for this one demands all my time and energy. I only have so much, mr. superhero novel, get it to-fucking-gether! Mainly the problem is I am removing old threads that I carried over from the original draft that make the story clunky. They don't fit. The plot is complicated enough with it. Unfortunately, it's so woven into the plot that I'm deleting entire chapters to fix it. I feel like Chris Tucker in 5th Element doing the hand dithering. "Commercial! Commercial!"

One thing I've made a change to this story and a few others, I've removed the buffy leads and replaced them with skinny guys. Superman, Kickass, Captain America, I'm so god damn sick and tired of superheros looking like they have tits. One stripper I was considering for a character model got pec implants and now looks like he's ready to breast feed triplets. "Nice tits, dude." Doesn't quite have the ring to it I'm looking for. If I can see arm veins bulging from biceps big enough to wear a women's size 4, we're done, fellas. There's a different between Athletic and Hulk SMASH!, and these guys shot past it, bulging nipples first.

I've never had a taste for leather daddies, but bearded, hairy skinny men seem to be something I've grown a taste for lately. Not dandies with their fancy facial hair or neckbeards, but Phil Sullivan sure does make a great replacement for Henry Cavill. You go from being a nice boynextdoor with a big booty to a roidrage away from destroying downtown Tokyo, despite your hairyself, I replace you!

Funny enough, my taste in women for characters has remained the same for over 20 years. Kathleen Turner, Sigourney Weaver, Gillian Anderson, Kate Mulgrew, Emma Stone, strong women with a solid voice and intelligence to back it up. Speaking of which, anyone hear that vapid twit doing a voiceover of that new Joaquin Phoenix movie and want to just smack the stupid out of her? "Talk like a god damn adult! You're not a porn star or a babydoll stripper." She's got a voice for a cheap phone sex operator that you switch all the stalkers to in the hope they stop calling.

Jan. 5th, 2015

I want to Believe

Put on your hipster glasses.

So, Friday is Jiggaboo's 31st birthday. I got the ingredients for my christmas Lasagna Friday and I am going to make it tonight. Right now, the sauce is on the burner heating up after I put in the tomatoes.

It's an artisanal sauce as I ground my own hamburger. When the price of your round roast you got on clearance in november is the same damn price as the hamburger slag you can get on sale now, you make your own hamburger! It's fresh, it's spiced properly, and it doesn't cook down with any of that brown slime from the filler and blood.

I used the rest of the familiar ingredients of onions, mushrooms, olive oil, seasonings, and my tomatoes. That's all pretty standard, but the hamburger is premium shit! I like it, the flavor is better only because it lacks that overwhelming 'meat' flavoring they put in the hamburger I normally get. This is a one time deal, I'm glad I did it, but it's just such a pain in the butt unless you are doing something special.

I also made up some creamy garlic butter (the secret is a dollup of sour cream) for my french garlic bread. We are having salads and an assortment of cheese, crackers, summer sausage, pickles, olives, and hot mustard for horse d'ovaries. Don't ask me to spell that correctly, you're lucky I'm even talking to you. ROTFLMAO!

Sorry, I've been watching Designing Women on LOGO.

I don't know if we're playing cards/farkle, watching the tube, or just bullshitting, but I'm catering the event tonight. He better not expect a cake or card, my hands are shaking for some reason that feels like I've been swinging an ax, and I'm back to writing out my plots.

Saturday I wrote 3500 words on a plot. A plot. Then, I deleted part of that, and I added more last night. I'm still not done. Then I have 5 more to write out before I begin writing. There's not enough brain power in the world to make this go better. I'm cleaning dishes by hand, taking care of my birds, cooking, exercising, and writing. I'm running on mental fumes, but if I stop plotting now, I'll never start up again.

4000 words of plot, people, in 2 days, 4000 words! Of plot. Not story, plot!


Oh, and I got 9 chicken eggs yesterday. Them lazy bitches finally started laying again and I locked their asses up to ensure that they continued. If I get more than that today, I will know this isn't a fluke.

Jan. 3rd, 2015

I want to Believe

Year-End List Revolt.

If I see another website that does a year-end list, I am throwing a rock from orbit to crush their servers.

Honestly, how many of these friggen websites need to do a roundup? Isn't their offerings the same garbage day-in, day-out? This is just lazy fucking clickbaiting. ESPN is notorious for doing this shit every day. They pay for exclusive access to most of their content, but all they can do is repeat the same 5 damn events 100 times a day.

I think it would kill these 'content creators' to do something radical like creating something new over the December/January faultline. Starting the second week of december, everyone takes a break until the end of January. TV, movies, websites, it all goes on the back burner. The time people are most at home here in the U.S., and nothing new is put out there to draw our interest. Yet, they wonder why viewership is down.

All except Hallmark Channel. They're the one group of assholes who take advantage of this winter graveyard. New content comes flying out like the hershey squirts as they know they have a captive audience. They draw in 'record numbers' of people who left the tv on while drinking themselves into a coma over the holidaze.

That, and the Interview. You can watch neon-white people pretending that minorities don't exist, except in rare cases to help 'pretty' white people breed, or, you can watch two jews undermine the old jewish comedian stereotype by not being funny.

Let's see, what else is on...racism, sexism, bigotry, sexism, racism, racism, racism, the cops turning against their commander for calling for peace and remarking about his own son's fear of racism in the police, gays getting their rights in Florida maybe but maybe not, racism, racism.

So, year-end lists, you say? How about that sporting event, great highlights!

Jan. 2nd, 2015

I want to Believe

Stupid, Cheating Slut Dies, Curiously, Community Shocked. Why?

"It was such a shock!"

Did He/She cheat on their unstable significant other? Yes.

Did He/She flaunt their relationship? Yes.

Did He/She aggressively argue with said unstable S.O.? Yes.

Did He/She threaten previously identified unstable S.O. with consequences that would upend unstable S.O.'s life? Yes.

Dead bitch is dead? Yes.

Where's the shocking part?

These shows my mum likes to watch 'informative murder porn', forensic files, the first 48, all have the same formula. Tragic situation, made worse by cheating, fighting escalates over period of time, dead bitch is dead, "It was such a shock!"

No, it fucking wasn't. The people who usually murder other people tend to be the ones you expect to kill other people.

"He drank and hit his wife during their violent arguments, even threatened to kill her if she cheated on him. He found out she was cheating, but I never dreamed he would go this far. It was such a shock!"

Static electricity, that was such a shock. Unstable individuals in a highly volatile situation resulting to murder, not so much.

Two words of advice: 1. Don't cheat. You lose most of your sympathy points if you do. 2. Don't fuck crazy! And if you do, certainly don't marry it!

How can you tell if you are about to touch negative to positive with crazy? If things feel off, or 'perfect', that's a good indication you with crazy, girl. RUN, GIRL, RUN!

The end.

Dec. 30th, 2014

I want to Believe

Writing Exercise - Character Builder.

This is a deleted scene from my next project, something I did to get my head around the plot. I like it, it just doesn't start off the story. I needed to get this out before I could start the story.

"Check out her." In any other conversation between guys, this would have been a completely different context. "Look who turned eighteen and just discovered fillers." With Moa, it was always something bitchy. He probably cleansed with lemon juice and vinegar for fun.

"Cram it, twitch." Tish rolled her eyes in my direction with a disgusted sigh.

Like this was my fault, some how. It's not like I gave her permission to come along. Moa and Tratty were my friends. Besides, it's not like he was wrong.

Unfortunately, he wasn't done. "Oh, please! Last time I saw something like that, it had just taken ten inches, twice." Holding up two fingers, Moa flipped his hand back and front so that his bangles clacked together.

A snort came from the queen of censorship. "Like you would even know what one looked like. You probably faint at the smell of tuna."

From there, it quickly devolved into catty comments about who was the biggest bitch.

In another life, Moa and Tish would have been the twins in this little scenario. They would have hung out together, holding court for the whole world to realize how a-mah-zing they were. A single cutting remark, some shade thrown, and even the angels themselves would draw a bath with a razor. Unfortunately, fate had been cruel to them and it was not to be.

Tish and Moa were to forever be mortal enemies. So alike, yet, so distant for the sad fact that he was my friend, thus, scum. That was the word she had used, like she was mother and this was nineteen-eighty some odd number.

My sister was like that. She liked to use big words and old slang to make herself look more mature and important. Until we were fifteen, she had the advantage of height as well. It nearly killed her when I finally caught up. That was the day she painted over the chart and started wearing four inch heels.

"You can't tell me that looks natural. And if you try, I'll slap the mocha from your cheeks." Ah, Moa, proving every stereotype has a root in truth. Not that the hot pink hair and neon tights were trying to hide the fact he wasn't a flaming heterosexual. "Speaking of which, good on you for finally dropping the rouge. Your cheekbones thank you."

Hanging back, I glanced to Tratty for support. There was none, as usual.

Dec. 29th, 2014

I want to Believe

Doing 2-4 In Ossining.

So, the birds shit their last shit in my yard today. They've been extra friggen clingy the past two weeks and I've had it. I mean, it's great they want to hang around, but if I see a hen out actually hunting the yard and not under the wild bird feeders, it's a miracle. They're eating junk food instead of the protein they need to lay eggs, and not hunting the yard to fill their diet. The corn and grain is supposed to be a supplement only.

Yesterday, dad and I measured out the new pen, over 3600 square feet of chicken wishes and caviar ducks. This is going to be a big fucking pen. 120+x30 feet, that's bigger than most houses. I'm going to sink a few plants, put in a small pond (eventually), build a rooster paddock, add a row of nesting boxes, get some new feeders. This is going to be a fuckin' classy joint!

Hell, the current pen is big enough for them and more. It's over 700 square feet, which is twice the space they need to be healthy. More than that, because I don't have large birds.

What prompted locking them up before the new pen was even out of planning stages? I was trying to take care of my baby mascovies and every step I took was into hot piles of shit. Not the small drops they make through out the day, huge piles they sometimes build up. Every god damn where I stepped, huge piles of it! And it was warm!

I was trying to take care of chicks that had fireants taking over their temporary cage and there's huge fucking piles of hot shit being dropped all around me. They kept getting in the way when I was trying to get in the cage, kept trying to get at the food when I was feeding the mascovies, getting in the cage to get at the bedding I was changing for the chicks, they got in the way when I was tearing the cage out of the chicken wire to escape the fire ants attacking me, they got in the way when I was trying to move this 100 pound god damn cage with live birds, bedding, and fire ants at my god damn feet, stepping on their hot fucking shit every god damn step so I was slipping and slidding across dirt, I was done. I planned on locking them away for tomorrow as punishment, but after having to close up the house to keep from attracting them on my back steps (it's 80 fucking degrees out), I went out to drive them away again, and there was shit all over my steps, and I was through!

I told dad "tell me why it's a bad idea to lock them away in that small pen." He did no such thing. It's not a small pen. It's as large as some of the houses we've lived in over the years. It means $50 a month in food bills, but I'm not doing this bullshit anymore. No more chicken shit in the yard, on the porch, no more digging up my yard, no more worrying about them depending solely on me and wild bird seed.

We are switching to cracked corn, pellets, and cheap cat food, along with table scraps. I know what they are eating, and since they're not out running around, they don't need as much. For once, I'm going to have fat, healthy chickens and I'm going to get a light, and they are going to start laying 10 or more eggs a day again!

Dec. 27th, 2014

I want to Believe

Not Your Mother's Boredom.

I am going insane here. There is nothing to do but watch tv and not write. I finished my sketch and I can't make myself write even though I settled on 3 stories which I have plotted out. I need to write, but I can't because I am BORED!

And the birds are having a promenade outside my windows. I'm off to kick their asses and get the mail. Any requests?
I want to Believe

Follow The Bouncy Balls.

Okay, I am convinced that Hawaii 5.0 is produced by Sean Cody. Pretty white dudes making come faces while doing things with each other. The camera can't decide which one it wants to focus on. It autofocuses in and out at whim. There is not a single steady image on entire reel, it bounces like the camera operator was jacking it to Hotch and Danno's gay porn come faces.

No, I haven't lost my damn mind, it was on while I was deleting my dvred episode of Law & Order.

Also, that Jim guy from Big Bang Theory, I hope you have a stroke from all that straining you are doing to look like the big of a spaz. I am revoking Intel's advertising privileges. And musical numbers should never be used to hawk flooring.

Dec. 26th, 2014

I want to Believe

Happy Boxing Day. TMI Edition.

So, my christmas feast ended in a mess. The birds got a shit tonne of rice and noodles. I ate the meat, of course.

Today, I plan on drawing my grandmother's gift, a handmade card for the 30 she sent my for christmas. It was a nice gesture from her and I will reward it with some hand drawn art.

Now, if I could get over the shits, I'd been fine. TMI, but, I could shit through a screen door and not leave a stain.

Dec. 25th, 2014

I want to Believe

I Watch You Pea.

Well, I slept 7 hours last night, it's a new record for the past 2 weeks. I feel a little better.

It's christmas morning and there's no presents under the tree. It's so damn depressing. Mum was sneaky and got me dried fruit and trail mix before they left, telling me it was for her friend at work who was on a diet when she got it. My real presents, mum's words not mine, I will get next month when we can afford it. From dad, I got a drake Pekin duck, my cousins gave me a pair of Mascovy chicks that were given to her by the same woman I got mine from. The ones I have already are wild breeds, as they are so tiny, the Pekins are bigger than my males, and that's a little disappointing. The new ones, one is yellow like my first mascovies, the other looks like a wild. Small muscovies and a flock that's not laying. Disappointing birds! GET A JOB!

Tonight, I have the traditional dinner of my adopted Jewish stereotype: Chinese!

Dec. 24th, 2014

I want to Believe

Everyone You Know Is Gone, or, Take Comfort, You're Never Alone With The Voices In Your Head!

Finally. The douchebag finally showed up, then dragged his ass about getting over here. He sent over a dufflebag full of shit, then had the nerve to bring along a huge backpack and bag with his shoes in it after everything else had been loaded in the cargo hold of the equinox. The term limited space means nothing to any of these people.

They left about a half hour ago, and no sooner than they were leaving, then the rain started coming down in a slow cascade. It didn't last long, but it was enough to make the world feel at peace.
I want to Believe


*Checks time* Uh, why are they still here? Oh, yeah, my mum hasn't returned from her fucking shopping trip/picking up my nephew.

GO ALREADY! Jesus Christ, I want to be alone with my thoughts. I should have been able to sleep in today beyond the 6 hours I got. I am so tired of being stressed and not being able to sleep because morons wake me.

I had planned on waking at a decent time after going to bed at a decent time, but I got inspired last night and did some research and plotting. I had planned on getting up to go with mum for a quick shop around for presents for my niece before they left, and then come home to write. They had to wait for the loser neighbor to come home so he and my loser brother could go with them to my social climbing sister's.

*Checks* Yep, I wrote about them without cursing. I am far too friggen out of my head at the moment.

Shit stains!

There. I feel better now. Gonna get a shower and veg out. I am not feeling the writing vibe. It's so damn gorgeous here today. The temperature is just warm enough I don't need a shirt, but cool enough I have to wear shorts. LMAO! Oh, god, the moisture, if I was on the water, today would be overcast, but the sunlight would make the world a stark white through the black clouds. I can almost hear the roar of the waves. Most people think of bright sun and hot beaches when they think of paradise. I think of an overcast day with 4 foot breakers crashing on the oyster bars.

Dec. 23rd, 2014

I want to Believe

Because Bitch Does Good Work!

Madonna's tracks to her new album got leaked 4 months early by a jackass and she had a royal hissy fit on instagram. The next day, she released 6 of the finished songs and a lyric video on youtube.

Holy shit, this is some of her best work in 16 years. Not since the 'Ray of Light' album have I wanted to buy one of her songs. I can't wait until March when the full thing is released.

In the meantime, I have 'Living For Love' on loop. I love her so much! Her career is almost as old as I am, older if you include the early years where she was posing naked for rent.

Fuck those 'new' bitches, Madonna is the real deal.

P.S. Can some please tell Bette Midler to STFU. I lost all respect for her when she became reformed 20 years ago, and her recent decency campaign is just pissing me off. Sad when a girl deliberately 'forgets' her roots. Roses may bloom out of shit, but they still require more to survive.

Dec. 22nd, 2014

I want to Believe

World Tells Joe Cocker "Drop Dead", He Obliges.

The singer of 'The Wonder Years' theme died today at the age of 70. I only saw the show in reruns on Nick, but the haunting song and the dark filter they filmed it in gave the show a mournful starkness. It was a beautifully shot program, if a bit trite. I think Joe's voice will continue to make me melancholy for a while.

Goodnight, Joe.
I want to Believe

Blocked By Garbage. Cursing and Bitching ahead.

Gah! I can't write and I can't read. It's all shit.

I want to write fanfic again, but I know if I go back, I won't come back to original fiction. It's become so hard to even get a few words down without rethinking everything about my life (or what feels like my entire life.) The plot I want to write I keep changing because I think people will hate it. They are going to hate my work because it's not mainstream anyways, so why should I care? The fact is, I am so damn hateful of myself that I can't get in the mood to just stick with something long enough to write it.

Trying to read to distract myself isn't working. Every story that the summary and pairing match up with my tastes is written by a complete fucking moron. I want to say hack, but even hack writers know how properly format a god damn story. I could do a 100xs better than this absolute shit in my sleep, but I can't stop doubting my plots long enough to get anything out.

And, no, my dears, it's not just the fanfic. I tried reading a professional novel, one that was supposedly edited and published by a big firm. Yeah, if this is the quality of their work these days, I hasten their demise!

How hard is it to remember that the subject of a paragraph is the only one who should be speaking in that paragraph? And that dialogue belongs with the subject who is speaking?

Example: John smiled at Teressa, his intent was not to alarm her. This was the first time he was meeting the woman.

"You don't know me. I shall introduce myself."

Teressa smiled. John smiled because he liked to smile. Teressa smiled again.

Danger, Will Robin! WRONG WRONG WRONG!

The dialogue is supposed to be with the first paragraph. Teressa and John's lines should be separated into different paragraphs from the second paragraph as they are focused on two different characters. This is grade school level shit, but we are getting it in professional novels. Printed novels.

Jesus H. Christ!

On top of this, every story has bouncing central characters in non-ensemble fic. *Stabs* What are they teaching people these days? I really want to know. Has the movement towards creativity and individualism thrown the rules of the English language completely out the god damn window? I really want to know, because if this is the case, I'm learning Urdu.

I can understand and forgive to a point someone who's been out of school for a while. These rules don't stick with you unless you practice them. I'm the perfect example of this. I was out of school for 5 years before I forgot, and it took 3 years before someone reminded me. There is no excuse for someone in college or younger. None!

Another moment of "DIE, YOU BITCH, DIE" that I experience is finding an English first language person, in school, using 'for dialogue' and 'thoughts'. Granted, I haven't traveled to the land of Completelyfuckingretardedestan, but I believe they still speak and write English there. The rules didn't change in transit.

And just a non-sequitur: Calling protestors criminals doesn't make it so, you dumb cunts! Just because someone might have committed a crime doesn't suddenly make them less of a human and revoke their citizenship. We are all people! We all have rights! Your badge doesn't make you better or above those without badges, read your god damn rules and regulations! And you wonder why people call your holier-than-thou ass out of touch at best. Man, I've never been to NYC and even I hate the fucking cops there. Generations of a para-military organization going unquestioned has turned them into a nation unto themselves ruled over by paranoid narcissists. Two murders doesn't turn the entire organization into victims and it certainly doesn't erase the crimes their members committed either! Turning your backs on your leader? Joining ranks to attack the president? That's the act of a criminal organization, not a fucking civil enforcement agency.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch my L&O reruns and try to remember that there are good cops out there.

Dec. 19th, 2014

I want to Believe

Ring In The New Queer!

Florida goes gay in the new year. Today, the Diana Ross and The Taco Supremes told Pam Bondi to shove her bullshit up her ass. With no further legal objections being heard, the gay agenda can be marked in permanent ink for January 6th.

In the words of Sophia, I'm lactating!

Dec. 17th, 2014

I want to Believe

Cards Against Humanity...*Yawn*

So, this is it, eh, folks? That's the worst you can come up with? People are getting all shocked and wide-eyed over the game responses on youtube vids and I'm barely able to keep my eyes open. 5 minutes of Brickleberry is more edgy.

For those of you not in the know, this game was created by privileged people to shock and abhor the players for laughs. This is not a aspersion upon coming from wealth, but on their lack of worldly experience. How you play it is there are two sets of cards. One poses a question or fill in the blank statement, the other set are answers. This is where it supposed to go off into 'jaw-dropping' territory. Everyone in the group has both cards and submits what they think is the worst answer possible to every posed question. The worst answer is decided upon by the person whose turn it was to ask a question card.

"I never..." gets better responses. At least then you get drunk.

White people scalps as currency? Brown people as the future prize in happy meals? Puh-lease. If they wanted to shock me, at least use the right damn terms. The whole point of the game is to make people uncomfortable, so why not go for the full-force offensive?

Hell, even if you didn't want to use the nastiest of terms, there are milder insults that are just as affective and even more humorous. I always liked the word darkies, and the term drum beaters.

When your shock-value game gets the reaction "What kinda Milquetoast, mayonnaise motherfucker thought this was edgy?", it's time to work on your material.

Though, I gotta say the tears of children was a good one when paired with "What's good to the last drop?". One, you got one. *rollseyes*

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I want to Believe

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