Too much time on my hands and probably too much wine has got me all fucking melancholy and thinking about the "good ole days" and how my life feels like it's in shambles now.
Fucking asshole. If I could go back to that one definitive moment, that one pivotal point in my life and change it, I would string you up by your balls and hoped you'd bleed out. You cocksucking piece of shit.
I hope you rot. I never cussed so much in my life before I met you and I could never understand why people did it, but fuck you. I feel better after saying every fucking swear word I can think of to describe your miniscule genitalia and your pea-sized brain. I fucking hate you and what I let you do to me and my life. I wish nothing but rage and pain and that you die a long, slow lingering death. Painful, too.
I hope you can't even complain, cause that's all you ever did.
Oh woe is me. You fucking pansy. You had a hangnail and the world was ending. You broke my jaw. But I had to shut up cause you didn't want to be reminded that you were a wife beating useless cocksucker that took out your aggression on my face cause "I looked at you funny".
I looked at you funny cause I couldn't understand how so much stupidity came out of your mouth and how you could still manage to remember to take a breath. Some shit is supposed to be hardwired into you, like breathing and blinking. But honestly, I often wondered why it was you lived. You were so fucking dumb you had to remember your left from right by how you put your fucking socks on in the morning.
What the fuck was I thinking? It wasn't for your towering intellect, that's for sure. Or your sack skills. I must've fallen for your endless babble of bullshit. Fuck, I drank too much back then. I could've done so much better. Now all I need for you to do is spontaneously combust the next time you tell a lie, which should happen in about 30 seconds, then I can have closure and write your sorry, pathetic ass out of my life.
Store bought? Hands down, my favorite is Haagen Dazs Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
I inherited an old ice cream maker 4 yrs ago and I started making my own. I haven't looked back to store bought ice cream since.
When the kids have been bad, they get put on "cranking duty" or if I'm in a bad mood (It's been known to happen from time to time) I'll take out my aggression on a batch of ice cream.
My favorite home made is Chocolate Hazelnut Swirl.
Honest, open-minded and caring? Bullshit.
You're a lying, bigoted piece of shit that only looks out for number one. Get the fuck outta my bubble, you judgmental cunt.
If I was a violent person, I'd so dearly love to smash your fucking teeth in. With my foot.
Welcome to Lush... I hope you enjoy it as much as most of us.
Let's spend the day in the life of a girl on Lush...
(Since you're relatively new here, I'll go easy on you)
I log on and I'm immediately inundated with 12 black boxes, 9 PM's, 12 friend requests and 4 chat requests (if I forget to set myself to "away"). Since I turned off "poking" I no longer have to deal with them.
These are from your average run-of-the-mill Lush perv and quite a few of them pervs I call friends. I'm used to it and ignore the ones I don't know or don't want to know.
I answer the black boxes, if I have the time, and write off a quick note here and there to friends.
THEN I check the forums.
I may answer the odd question or feel like posting a picture or I might just sit back and read and giggle over the responses.
At first, I liked to check out the BDSM section of the forum since it used to be a part of my lifestyle.
But after I received the 100th totally uncalled for and disgusting PM from some wannabe Dom, that thinks I would make an awesome slave in his harem, I kinda gave up.
Or if I wanted to be lectured on how I'm not doing it "right" I'd go back to college. Or how I'm a "fake" or "weekend" BDSMer, I might tolerate it and still be a part of the BDSM forum.
But since I really don't care to be lectured or called names or "interviewed" by prospective Dom's, I now ignore that section.
The holier-than-thou attitude of a few BDSMer's just left a bad taste in my mouth.
Actually... If you're sitting in a bar, by yourself, drinking a non-alcoholic beverage; I would wonder what the hell you were doing there.
I don't know if it's just me that thinks that's a little odd. It's not sad, but it does seem strange to me.
Hugs to you girly. I'm off to make you some gingerbread in the meantime.
