i spit on your grave

heard of ISOYG but never seen it till Katie brought it over tonight. for 1978, it's pretty good if you're into revenge flicks. speaking of I Spit On Your Grave, i'm getting a second sort of hate-mail. i call it green-with-envy mail but you be the judge. to protect the bitch (and not give her any undue attention, attention she so surely desires) i totally won't link to her or ID her in any which way. LOL, sufff-ffferrrrrr...

so 'Welcome aboard White Powder Airlines, Flight SG-Rimone...' please note that in every prior mail she cursed me out (e.g., 'I hate you, bitch....') for living in England, seeing the Sex Pistols and the love of her life, Henry Rollins and at one point, called me a phoney punk. or a faux punk, whatever. i answered every one of her mails and did so patiently until this last. i also wrote her a birthday post two years back on my real site, one she claimed she never read and after a week or so asked her if she'd seen it and said 'not yet' but promised to. nothing after that mention, neither a thank you note to me nor anything else.

i've visited her raging fury-filled political site on a pretty much weekly basis since we started to mail again (where does it say i have to comment? on ANY site? maybe she should put up a sign? or tattoo it on her forehead?) and finally commented on an LOLCats link the other day, within days after i'd sent it to her. this i did for the only reason that, when i saw it, she failed to attribute; again, not even a thank you (heaven forbid a link to me). i think her caption was (the First Lie) something that went 'As usual, i get these from icanhazcheezburger' when she'd just told me in mail, she steals 'em from me. anyway, as everyone who knows me knows, attribution, especially on the 'Net, is a big thing with me.

AFAIC it's only fair as in a 'one hand washes the other' type o' thang. as well, i went over there to get her complete link for my Reservoir Dogs Redux list and noticed she was no longer linking to me and so mentioned that as well. dig my mail (she should thank her lucky starz i didn't put this in my comment):

To: triple-x crybaby@hotmail.com
From: me@me.org
Subject: i just went over
Date: Fri, 20 Jun 2008 23:52:33 +0100

to see if you'd still linked to Dateline:Bristol and was in shock cos i always thought that just like me, you were a cooperation not competition kinda kitteh. went over in order to link to you cos one hand washes the other and 'failure to attribute' is one of my main beefs.

the akshual troof is, i've c/p a coupla your rants onto sites on which i'm admin or mod (along w/the words 'Google *ur name*) cos they wanted to know from whom i got whatever (this i did cause i've been accused of being way too angry and my main response was 'angry? i'll show you 'angry').

and by no means do i consider this an ask for you to link to me. no worries; it's just that AFAIC you've revealed a bit more of yourself than i ever thought you were capable of. silly me. as i said, iz stawree of mai lief akshually or however i spelt it.

one more reason i've always found other chicks to be vengeful and spiteful. but hey, you've fed into my lifelong belief of prior. so once again and kinda unhappily, i'm correct.

/rx

her reply? after this commercial message: *snigger* 'Welcome aboard Flight 3178; WPA ... I'm your Captain DW Love ... we will be flying to the Outer Rings of Saturn ... meanwhile i'd like you to sit on back and relax cos it's gonna be a bumpy ride, fellahs...'

here's her reply mail to mine above:

'JACKASS. Get some fucking estrogen for fuck's sake, willyaplease?? IF you had been to *name of her site* in the past nine months or so, you would have SEEEN "Rimone's Dateline Bristol" RIGHT THE FUCK NEAR THE TOP OF THE MOTHERFUCKING BLOGROLL ALL OF THIS FUCKING TIME.

i actually did, each and every week (at least) but as i said, i only went back the last time to get her link totally correct and was amazed at the removal of mine.

'But, since you never came over, commented, or answered e-mails in all of that time...'

which is total bullshit cause when i was in masochistic mood, i'd wander over there to see her take on the latest republiKKKan assfucking done to US. once again: where does it say i have to comment? wait... 'Did you see a sign outside that said Dead Nig-' i mean 'once you're here you MUST comment? like to prove you were present? like in school, to 'show your work?' puh-leeze. anyway, back to Raging Impotent Fury.

'...when I douched-out some other "infrequent" friends (well, when I had *name of some pol* do it for me, he be my techno-gawd, and while I AM capable of writing my own formatting code, when he does it, nothing goes fuhcocktah (or however in the fuck you spell that), so I get him to keep my template pretty and very functional...'

as i said in return mail, blogspot's for the LCD morons. if she can write code (which i surely doubt), and if a non-techie like me can actually figure this blogspot shit out, she must be in a sorry state, sorrier than this venom, hate-filled mail reveals. but i digress.

'...He built the logo for *whateverrrr*, made my Triple-X rating (it most certainly is not, not even worth a single X; big whoop, she includes 'fuck' in her little tantrums on the page), EVERYTHING good that is on that blog, is by him.)...'

'good', like 'pretty', is totally in the eye of the beholder. Punkt, Ende. even in the best of times, i'd call it a total mess but hey, whaddoo i know? apparently nothing (and thass the way i like it).

'...anyway, while I was dropping people who didn't talk to me anymore, YOU MADE THE LIST, shit-head.

but despite her venom and vitriol and the transparent lying bullshit above, we've been talking for a coupla months now and i have the mails to prove it. just another chick who can't stand me cause of .... i dunno. can't be jealousy; she's miles and miles younger. must be the UK and my being on Klan (something about which she NEVER acknowledged whenever she asked 'what's up?'). but about chicks hating me? i'ze used to it by now which is why my closest friends have always had penises.

'You get to go get tattooed on the damned dole and you wanna bitch at ME?!?!?! Pfft. Wanna trade valiums?'

whoa, whoa, whoa (i wrote her). who ever said i'm on the dole? i'm not eligible for the dole and i spelt this out to her many times. MANY many times. the only freebie to which i can haz access is the NHS and thank fuck for that.

'IF you're nice about it, instead of a whiny little princess who's acting like her ovaries just dropped, I might ask him to put it back.'

told her 'don't bother' – i'm degraded enough. and anyway, that would mean to be all fair and shit, i'd have to link to her as well – after this explosion of her pus-filled poison, nuh-uh, not EVar.

'But if you'd COME AROUND ONCE IN A FUCKING BLUE MOON, you'd have KNOWN that you've been on there as long as I've KNOWN your batshit-crazy, stoned-as-a-roadie on shore leave ass.'

OK, got one thing straight: 'coming around' means leaving proof in the form of a comment. but since i have no idea what's happening in US p0litics (nor do i wanna) how in hell am i supposed to comment? then i asked her how she would know about roadies being stoned and such since i myself only know real rockers... and never really got to know the roadies. i mean, the roadies were nice to me and stuff but i never got to know them so well as to get high with them. told her 'that tells more about you than it says about me'. no answer. *snigger*

'So don't go copping an attitude at ME precious,' (see my original mail above and see if youse can detect any 'attitude') 'or lumping me in with 'all other women' and 'disappointment' and all of that WASPy pseudo-guilt bullshit.'

OK, we're heading into the home stretch here... ('home stretch' is an American baseball term): who has more fuckwittery and guilt than whom; a contest in her mind she's determined to 'win', to out-guilt me or whatever. OK, i'll give her this one; she deserves it, LOL. i love this bit:

'I am IMMUNE. I was trained in guilt by a BAPTIST MINISTER'S WIDOW GRANDMOTHER, you got NOTHIN' on her. You are but a rank amateur, staggering into the battlefield of a master. Jews and catholics think that THEY have the 'patent' on guilt? Pfft. They were the WARM-UP ACT for the coming of the phenomenon known as a Baptist grandmother. Come back to the ring when you've got your gloves and your cup on, pumpkin'.

cute. 'cup' (underhanded pussy way of calling me a boy? i wish i needed a fucking cup! which would mean i'd have a real dick of my own). and the 'pumpkin' bit: very, very cute. not. :-)

'So save the drama fo' yo' mama...'

the originality astounds me. i must learn to do this, to write like this, i must, i must, i must and then mebbe i be good writer lahk she iz. the next is where we hit the bigtime, with all the exaggerations and other assorted bullshit; when first reading, i could actually see her with steam coming outta her ears. i can haz superpower inducing strokes or heart attacks or brain embolisms from far away? pleeh?

'...cause I've got enough drama over this side of the fucking pond. As of today, I am not only bereft of my ENTIRE FUCKING TAX REFUND b/c of my ancient-ass hoopty fucking truck (yeah, I have wheels, I have to 'cause I CAN'T WALK A CITY FUCKING BLOCK UNAIDED, thank you very fucking much, so fucking sue me, you're more impoverished, what the fuck ever, YOU GET FREE TATS, so shaddup)...'

whoa, whoa, WHOA! if i got free tats, i'd have both sleeves and my entire body and neck done by now. WTF?

'...anyway, I not only spent THREE BONES on a FOUR-INCH WIDE FUCKING PIECE OF RUBBER THAT GMC SHOULD'VE PAID FOR IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE --- I am now into TEH DICK and his FALLEN UTERUS FOR SEVEN, COUNT 'EM, SEVEN HUNDRED MOTHERFUCKING DOLLARS, because they lent me the money to finally have AIR-CONDITIONING in the truck this summer, instead of the skin cancer that I've gotten every one of the past three summers...'

why don't i believe this? cause she never mentioned on her site and she whines about EVERYthing wrong with her.

'You live way the fuck north of here, you have no sympathy for 100+% humidity and NO FUCKING OZONE and DIRECT SUNLIGHT ON ALBINO-ALABASTER WHITE SKIN...'

nah, i only lived in NYC since i was a little kid where it was 90+F from april to late september and 100% goddamned humidity every damn day and night. i myself wore SPF 45 every day so nah, i have no idea what discomfort means and fear of skin cancer means, none at all. and then she went on with a long sadass story filled with medical woes that, going by the lies above, i barely believe.

'In short, I will be paying these assholes off ... FOR THE NEXT SEVENTEEN FUCKING YEARS. And HE is the one who killed my air conditioner IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE, BECAUSE PLUMBERS SHOULD NEVER DO MECHANIC WORK. Oh, suuuure, he can drop in a seventy-ton central a/c system for a giant gubmental or corporate building, no sweat, but the a/c in my poor old truck? COCKED IT UP BUT GOOD. Burnt the air compressor and all attached accessories to a fucking CRISP. And the LAST fucking people that I would ever ask forANYFUCKINGTHING, the people who still freely shelter (RENT-FREE) the motherfucker who STOLE MY FUCKING LIFE FROM ME...'

*singing* 'Paranoia strikes deep... into your life it will creep...' (Buffalo Springfield or one of those other hippie dippy groups i could never stand).

'...and worship at his filthy webbed porcine-hooved FEET --- I owe them SEVEN HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS. I would sooner ferret out Karl Rove's little piggly-wiggly dick and let the obese turd-with-legs cocksucker TITTY-FUCK ME than owe them FIFTY CENTS. I would rather have Dick Cheney ride me around the East Lawn in a plasticine petticoat and a 'VOTE REPUBLICUNT' sticker across my ass than ask them for THE TIME OF DAY.

'So when you've got stress that can compete with THAT, over a fucking BLOGROLL...'

duh? stress? again, see my original mail above. and please willya, point out the stress? and blogroll? i'd rather die than use that word, but hey.

'...then you can get petulant with me. Y'know why they decided to loan (and torture me ad nauseum, presuming that they've bought another 20 years of NOT PROSECUTING THEIR PIECE OF SHIT SON-KING) me the money to fix the truck THIS year, while they let me BURN TO A FUCKING CRISP, despite SEVENTY-SPF sunscreen from dawn 'til dusk for three fucking years?'

um... once again: 'I'm your captain DW Love speaking ... Fasten your seatbelts, it's gonna be a bumpy ride, fellahs...'

and then she went into some heavy-duty med-speak and knowing she very frequently asks for donations on her site, donations to benefit her fat ass (where i'd rather go hungry than to ask for one p actually – and believe me, i have gone hungry, yes outta pride), i barely could read, knowing one of her avid followers would be sure to help her out. that's IF she's really as ill as she says (i don't believe it; if anything her venom alone is keeping her alive).

and here comes the past sexual abuse, right on cue:

'Right. They didn't give a fuck when I was being taught how to suck dick at eight years old, when I got busted in FIRST GRADE for going to school with no underwear because my sexual slavery massah SAID TO DO IT...'

this i totally don't get cause i never did a damn thing my mother asked of me. then again, had i been taught to suck dick at aged 8, i'd be a wealthy woman today. then again, the word 'NO!' comes to mind. oh well. then came a mishmash of shit-strewn stuff including yard-sales, more parental things that she supposedly did (did she not know the word 'no'?) and which i totally don't believe. i still don't geddit.

'So. That's what's on MY plate right now, being further enslaved to the people who pimped me out when I was 20 months old, broke as a motherfucking joke, having pissed away over THREE YEARS since my nephew's murder and have NEVER been able to save up a DIME towards getting his tribute tattoo (or even being able to get anybody to draw the fucking thing for me), and you're out there getting FREEBIES, and damned good ones at that. Bite me'.

i actually would if i thought she'd taste good but... ugh. more pity-mongering plus a comparison to the one thing she can maybe relate to.

'Agoraphobia? Wanna trade for some PTSD maybe? I've got at least five distinct particular cases of it, wanna take one off of my hands? When you buy some more cute shit with skulls on it and hang out in the pub all night, gnaw on that shit'.

this i totally don't believe cause AFAIK, she's never mentioned the story of her life, not in any autobiographical sense on her site or anywhere else. so i call bullshit. and when i buy more 'cute shit with skulls on it' believe me, she'll be the last thing from my mind. here we're way beyond the outer rings of Saturn, we're spinning round black holes which've disappeared millions of years ago:

'I do have an odd affection towards you, as daft and cocktarded as you can get sometimes, but this whole passive-aggressive demanding bitchiness is SO not working for me. If you've really been quoting me, you should have been NOTIFYING ME in the comments of the posts that you've quoted, to do any less is just flat-out poor blog etiquette and rude. And to not even link to my original posts as you're quoting from them is just damned down & dirty ASININE. Fuck, it's not like I have band groupies trolling my site, we could USE THE FUCKING TRAFFIC...'

uh... i once told her i quoted from her but never from any blog posts of hers as i didn't want people to think i was more out of my mind. as i very clearly stated to her, i quoted from her mails, kinda like this but in posts. actually, i think she needs glasses or something ... i can haz selective memory? *snigger*

'Come down off of whatever you're on tonight...'

NO! i dig it!

'...pull your cunt up out of yer socks, and play nice. Then I *might* gift you with a return to the blogroll...'

ROTFLMAO! as i told her, i'd rather die. please, Satan, soon?

'...but if you're not making your presence known on *name of her site*, then I don't know that you've been there, dumbass. Yes, Sitemeter can tell me where most of my visitors come from, but you're hardly my only UK visitor or even friend in England. LEAVE A FUCKING COMMENT, YA CRAZY OLD CARP!!! And it's your own damned fault for not conversing with me all of that fucking time, this week's sudden spate notwithstanding'.

more bullshit commingled with lies. dude, i have the emails to out you and every one of your damned lies but i've already wasted enough time on you here. moron.

'Ugh. I'm going to shut up now, while I still like you'.

i'm SO thrilled to hear this. not. :-)

'But don't push it, you bony old weirdo. Or I'll come over there and slap the piss out of your freshly-tattooed, flesh-bare arm'.

how in hell could she do that, being as poverty stricken as she claims? i don't geddit. oh well, *yawn* c'mon over or whatever. i know someone in the Midwest who'd like to be friends with you, actually. you two fit together like two fat fingers in a sausage skin; you'd get along famously.

'...AND my motherfucking infrared mouse DIED on me today, and I fucking LOATHE and DESPISE the very CONCEPT of a fucking TOUCHPAD because I can't blog, edit pictures, or do anything CREATIVE WHATSOFUCKINGEVER with this fingerpainting bullshit!!!!'

and this is my fault, why again? but four surprise marks! you win for emphasis! i bow down to your surprise mark useity. moving right along, this bit is fucking great:

'So please, really, tell me what an insufficient person I am because you can't manipulate me the way that you mindfuck everybody ELSE in your life. Honestly'.

sounds like boots but with a more vivid imagination and better spelling and usage skilz. and that's the way of the world, folks. 'Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow'.

ps, rereading the above and i'm ROTFLMAO! ooooh, today's Tattoo Day and according to her, not only am i on the dole but i get 'em for free. i just might print this out and show the folks over at the Studio so maybe, just maybe they'll listen to her. Katie's in the bedroom and i'm gonna crash in a minute or two. it's after 05,00 and it's light out and once again, it's TATTOO DAY, HOORAH! eat yer heart out, you nasty liddle thing.


big thanks to Mississippi Outlaw for the perfect kitteh pic. :-)

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introducing Kate

YOW! and FUCK! cause she's like young enough to be my spiritual grand-daughter. anyway, continuing my Skulls post the other day and noting she didn't dig any of the phone pics i took of her, she sent me one of which she approves and thank fuck for that. so here's Kate.


note the double nose piercing (from one side to the other). she works in some gentlemen's clothing shop which doesn't have a dress code or whatever so she appears at work the same way she appears here (which, being an American IMO is hilarious). as well, please note tat on her left shoulder (she calls her Dolly in honor of Parton) which i'm so pleased to repeat again, up close and personal here. and i'm truly happy to say that one look at Dolly told me she wasn't gay, as others have assumed when viewing same. dumbasses!


and of course, top pic's taken before last wednesday when she got this across her upper chestal area.


BTW, Katie's the only natural born blond i've ever met who hates her light hair, hates being blond (she's practically white blond; i've never heard of such a thing, for a natural born blond to go darker, permanently if she had her way). so she's been dyeing her hair dark ever since she was like 12 or so... incredible to me. i told her something like 'of course you already know you're like a singularity in that most would practically die to be born blond?' yup, being an intelligent chick, she already knew that. *wack*

anyway, we both go back to Holey Skin this coming wednesday (two more days! hoorah!), she for the chestal tat to be colored in and amplified and me to add to my rediscovered tats addiction (this happened instantly, the second we bopped into the studio). and that's even though my last tattoo was like 11, 12 years ago. it's all totally her fault. *kiss* my shoulder's healed quickly and i intend to get many many more. LOL, thank you, Kate. so far this lone skull is the only one that's visible but that's gonna be changed ASAP as i intend to go for, if not a full sleeve than a halfway one. here 'tis again.


for some strange reason (i won't blame it on the MD&c i took before cause apart from messing with my already senile memory, that shit's done nothing but good for my head) above came out all blurry and i prefer the one i uploaded a few posts back.


OK, people (those whom i hope aren't lying) are writing to ask for more photos of me (i'd imagine to throw darts at) so here's the latest taken about 04,30 the other morning. please forgive the fucked uppity expression. why? CAUSE I WAS. LOL, duhhhh on youse. and i was fucked up and happily so, though my lifelong perfected snarly sneer shines through. nah, not 'shines'; i'd say it totally over-rides any happy that might lurk within. y'know what i mean. and if y'all don't? *shrugs in a 'who gives a fuck?' fashion.



actually, i should lose the snarly sneer cause when i was young and cute it appeared all adorable, or so i was told and too many times. now? UGH. IMO it makes me appear even older than i am. how in hell did i get here? lord knows i tried to live fast, die young and leave a good looking corpse but i'm way beyond that shit.

moving right along, the other day i was trying to explain the under-pass walkway thingy one must leave Park Street to bop down the slate steps in order to get to the Hatchet. here it is (well, a bit of it).


personally, i love it – something else yet unseen and never will be seen or built anywhere in the States. i'd guess, by the depressions in the midst of every step, that it's at least 200 years old, but whaddo i know? yup, i researched this on the 'Net but could find nary a mention.

back to Kate, not only did i convert her to the glories of the Alabama 3 – and she was privy to a coupla Freebase tunes but i expect no malevolent consequences since on phone today, he said he quit reading me – prolly cause i quit mentioning him *snigger*. anyway, i believe that over the weekend, the newest and possibly youngest member of the Congregation heard stuff y'all never will hear, at least not yet, well, not without his explicit permission.

really, Mark, i just couldn't help it... and she only had the same things to say that i've already toldja so what's there about which to be pissed? *tickle* no worries, had it occurred to her to ask me to send her mp3s. that'd be where i draw the line. *tickles again* oh wait, yer not ticklish. *grabs -* never mind, i take back that *grabs -* mostly cause grabbing you got me into plenty of trouble when you actually announced it to the public at large, at Rhythm Festival last year. why? *whispers so Mark doesn't hear* i'd hazard to guess he was bored but shhhh, don't tell him i said that. anyway, here are Chris and me watching the band at Rhythm Festie:


next pic's us waiting for the band and also waiting for the 2nd double dose of MD&c to come on. for some strange reason, i was facing the sun which only demonstrates how out of it i was, cause i'ze totally not a sun-lover, not after the permanent freckles or whatever, all those years of Summer tans left on my back and upper arms.


from L to R it's Pam, Chris, Akkie, me and Jackie a few hours before i did the grabbing. anyway, after i did and Mark so insanely announced (smirking away cause he just knew how this would go down), Chris was in hysterics (actually, i was as well). in fact, everyone thought it funny apart from this one other girl; she wasn't too pleased but, like where i cared back then, this year has proven my care was for nought; she's not only two-faced with pretended sympathy for me but worse, is a moody sort of bitch, running hot and cold (and i'm sick and tired of trying to ascertain whatever mood she's in so last week i told her i gave up and to keep her bullshit pretend caring to herself).

someone in the band told me she was smart; when Chris came over a few weekends ago, we spoke of this and he burst out laughing saying something like (paraphrasing) 'Oh, no... she gives a decent impression but she's about as dumb as they come'. the thing of it is (as he and others have splained me), i've been told i 'puzzle' her, i guess cause she's too dumb to take me at face value just as everyone else does. at one point last Summer at Rhythm Festie, she actually had the temerity to ask if i were for real, with all my exuberance for the band and for living in England and more.

and then she practically accused me of being a liar and later on, when questioned, pretended she didn't remember being all rude and accusing me. newsflash O High, Haughty and Not-So-Mighty One: i've heard from others, others who've been close to you for years (but no more, thanks to your hubris); i've been on the receiving end of all about your personal ways and means. BTW, this is totally not a 'guess who?' cause the poor girl is in misery of her own making and i won't out her, though i'd love to. the only words i can use to decribe her? totally ungrateful and in denial of certain things about which i so stupidly helped her.

hmmpf... once again, i've wandered off-topic and bigly so. back to the sweetness of Katie (a veritable relief cause i love this liddle grrl as a twinsie), apart from the Alabama 3, i also converted her to the glories of Macs and wonder of wonders she bought one today. *proud* OK, Kate, you magickal little thing you, y'all got two outta my three fave talky things – i can haz proselytising? 3rd up's Usability and hanging with me, you're already far ahead of the crowd cause last weekend when sleeping over at mine, i showed her the basics, something she understood immediately. *proud*

oh wow... it's like almost 01,00 and i haven't had dinner yet. tomorrow, i'm off to max out my new credit card and whoa, do i look forward to that. there's a pair of boots on Queens Road that totally have my name written all over them and i can't wait. *evil* whoops, i mean YAY. :-)

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RIP George Carlin 1937-2008

bah, goddammit to hell &c &c &c... :-(



thanks to a mail from Chris this AM, i got word of this latest horror, yet another of the real true Americans whom, in my personal Lexikon (spelt the Deutsche way, the way i dig it), 'real true American' means any of those who still have the stones to use their freedom of speech, despite as well as in spite of bu$hCo.

this is SO depressing, along with Hunter S Thompson, Carlin wasn't a-skeered of going beyond beyond. when i was a liddle kid, i used to love watching him whenever on TV. and i was totally enthralled and broke into hysterical laughter everytime he stated the obvious in his own inimitable way. from above-linked piece:

'Comedian George Carlin, a counter-culture hero famed for his routines about drugs, dirty words and the demise of humanity, died of heart failure at a Los Angeles-area hospital on Sunday. He was 71...

'...Known for his edgy, provocative material developed over 50 years, the bald, bearded Carlin achieved status as an anti-Establishment icon in the 1970s with stand-up bits full of drug references and a routine called "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television." A regulatory battle over a radio broadcast of the routine ultimately reached the U.S. Supreme Court...His comedic sensibility revolved around a central theme: humanity is a cursed, doomed species.

'..."I don't have any beliefs or allegiances. I don't believe in this country, I don't believe in religion, or a god, and I don't believe in all these man-made institutional ideas," he told Reuters in a 2001 interview..."The world is a big theatre-in-the round as far as I'm concerned, and I'd love to watch it spin itself into oblivion," he said. "Tune in and watch the human adventure."...'

read the rest and if you still call yourself an American, as i do, read it and weep. from my mail back to Chris:

'fuck fuck fuck! and more fucks! dammit to fucking goddamned hell! HELL! a world without Carlin means the republiKKKans have won. to some extent'.

'the only bright spot in this entire horror is that HE died at 71 from the same exact things with which i still indulge myself.

'i can haz hope? (to die before him, before aged 71, cuz of same thingies)'. nah, knowing me, i'll have no such luck and being a pussy, will once again fail at suicide. naturally, Techie-boy ignored that which he finds depressing; mainly my lifelong wish to believe my time on this here fucked-up planet is like a required subject one must endure, sorta like a passing stop one must bear and actually live through, in order to get on to bigger, better and more important things ethereal and hopefully celestial having to do with the Cosmos and larger Universe and stuff. yes, Mark, you already agree with Chris and know i'm mad but hey, nobody's forcing you, least of all i, to change your mode of thinking.

can't dig up larger pix of George whom i considered one of my heroes, in the same vein as Lenny Bruce. so here's yet another teeny tiny one, from one my faves of his many monologues.



George Carlin: LIFE IS WORTH LOSING.



you betcha, George. i envy you, i truly do, that yer off this damned mortal coil. one of the techies Chris reads had a much better obit for Carlin, way better than i could ever write (he used the infamous 7 Words Y'all Can't Say on TV:

'...The seven dirty words are seven English words comedian George Carlin listed in his monologue "Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television", released in 1972 on his album Class Clown. At the time, the words were generally considered highly inappropriate and unsuitable for use on the public airwaves in the United States, particularly on over-the-air television and AM/FM radio stations'.

'Current practice is to allow the statement to stand but bleep (censor) the actual word'.

me: pussies! let 'em all visit the UK and watch TV here and let 'em all fucking die of shock. *hopeful mode*

'On his next album, 1973's "Occupation: Foole", Carlin did a similar routine titled "Filthy Words," dealing with the same list and many of the same themes. This version was broadcast uncensored by Pacifica radio station WBAI, which eventually led to a Supreme Court case, FCC v. Pacifica Foundation (1978), that helped define acceptable free speech limits on broadcast television and radio in the United States...'

anyway, Chris sent me John Gruber's obit: Gruber at Daring Fireball: 'Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker and tits. One more word: hero'.

RIP, George dude... you spoke to me since i was a liddle grrl and you'll speak to me forever. i'ze a very sad kitteh tonight. we've lost two outta three of those true Americans who used their freedom of speech to push the limits of our way puritanical bounds. bah... :-(

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afflicted with aprosexia

from the Department of It's All About Me... yes i suffer aprosexia and all i can say to y'all is this is the latest disorder i've learnt i have and so, soz for my tone, but: deal with it. i mean, if i, the victim, can (and not only can deal with it but mock it), most certainly youse all can. and once again for the millionth time: y'all know where the door is. and this time, i don't give a flying fuck if it hits you on yer ass whilst leaving or not; as said many times before: it's only a click away. so click away, y'all (especially those of the faint-hearted variety).

BTW, speaking of those faint-hearted (which, in my head, are tantamount to being chickenshit pussies) i see, judging by my stats: there's still one chick in the Midwest; the one i call 'Indiana Ingrate' – y'know, cause she IS – and a liar to boot. um, dunno how to put this in a way you'd understand apart from 'listen girly girl (that's an unwarranted compliment and only cause i'm in a good mood made better by being all chemical'd up) you must've been out of your mind, to not only bring our private thing out, in public but to end with a lie, one that could easily have been exposed'. and was. *self-satisfied smirk*

why am i wasting a large bit of this post on you? cuz i have super special internet skilz and can traverse any email backwards. after the first couple, i wasn't sure but now i know all the recent bullshit dissing mails are coming from you. using my very vivid imagination, i can see you furiously (and jealously) bent over your keyboard, trying to hide your real ID from me. helpful hint: your atrocious spelling, usage and reiteration of certain phrases immediately hipped me to who you are... 'boots'. *snigger*

anyway, like the insanity your behavior revealed when over at mine the night of and morning last september's Alabama 3 MOR Tour hit Bristol, the day you threw your liddle shitfit (well, if 45 minutes of non-stop howling, throwing open and shut the front door to my house, banging on neighbors' doors-filled minutes were 'little'); your very public tantrum which called attention to me, unnecessary attention by involving the neighbors, apart from you solidifying the impression some have here of all Americans being The Ugly American (which in my head, you totally epitomise), your ending your post with an outright lie could've led to mountains of trouble. as i said, i was ready to ignore you but this total bullshit (ending of post number 6 at prior link):

'...and as for the phone calls keep them up Slum Goddess my Husband and i think they are funny and show just how insane you truely are...'

phonecalls? i have never, in my life, phoned ANYone in the States apart from my mother, sister, and Segs' sister Christine. and as i've said, i was all ready to ignore you but that last bit; i mean the unmitigated gall you had to make that shit up especially about your (capital H *snigger*) husband... FYI, many of the British, as reticent as they are (plus some of the Americans on FreeA3), mailed me privately to tell me, in essence, they not only thought you were nuts but to assure me you sounded like spilt milk gone even more sour. sour grapes? you haz 'em, BIGtime. you totally blew it so live with it. and your behavior warrants heavy-duty punishment but far be it for me to even go beyond wasting the best of this post on you.

in all actuallity, you should be thanking my ass that i only explained (in my apology to the Congregation) what your fuckwittery was all about (and didn't get into the really heavy details). as y'all know, if your husband REALLY knew what went down here (or rather, what you wanted to go on here), you'd be out on the street, landed on your way fat ass and divorce proceedings would've started already. maybe he sticks by you cause of the only thing you might be good for?:


once again: you totally blew the trip of a lifetime by your trailer trash behavior, not only at mine but by forcing you-know-who (whom as i stated, is STILL my friend) to sit in the tourbus, whilst you hung off MS Freebase's every word. had i been able to phone pic the look on your face, unnoticed by you, believe me, i'd have posted it all over the place.

your tongue was not virtually but literally hanging out of your drooling mouth and your desire (which, if it hasn't occurred to you yet, was a total dis to the one who's still my friend). the look on your face wasn't too attractive but hey, typical for you. and what's even funnier: the look on your face when i returned to the Tourbus still parked in Oxford – it appeared as if you were surprised but if you think for one second i was gonna leave you alone to dis the one who mistakenly drove you here and there and permit Freebase to face you alone, well you don't know me. i'm very protective of those i deem my friends. thinking again of the look on your face when i came bopping back in – disappointed doesn't cover it. and the hateful daggers are yet another euphemism. too bad you were so classless as to ignore the person you were with. after the Bristol gig, when you kinda faded into the background in front of the venue and corralled Freebase the second he was done with the upcoming groupies, well, this might come as news to you, but my still-friend was apprised of your every move.

however, the essence of what i omitted, out of respect to Glenn, was the fact you came over here to not only cheat on your husband but to attempt to do it with another: get Alabama 3's real guitarist in some kinda physical thing with you. dunno if you remember confiding this to me but i've still got the emails to prove it. 'Oh, how we laughed...' and laughed and laughed and laughed some more.


getting back to my first point, i see by my stats you're STILL reading me. WTF and WHY? then again, i answered the 'why?' right above. plus, your being in invisible mode over at FreeA3 fools nobody as you came outta hiding to wish Mark a happy b-day as well as give some fuckwittery on Today I Love. yer watching the DVD? show me exactly who can't order it and once ordered by anyone (or the second, given away thanks to Guilty's very A3 generosity), who can't pass it round, ok? show me the rool that sez only the devout and the intelligent shall be able to buy it (or be gifted with it), K? moron.

(very unfortunately) you know me: i was so dying to ask you 'why in all hell did you 'Last Post' in such a dramatic way when it was obvious to all of us you hadn't left (due to the N/A) and continued to lurk? plus, as you now so unfortunately know – 'unfortunately' for you and you alone – Nomad and i are still the bestest of friends. but at least he had the smarts to drop completely off the forum, not lurk as you still do.

NEWSFLASH: any FreeA3 member who has an N/A under their 'last time visited' or whatever it says, immediately signals to us, the cognescenti (look it up if y'all know how); anyway any N/A stated for any member indicates we all know y'all are still there. but stoopit you failed to pick up on this, to our continued amusement. nah, fuck that – to our continual hilarity in a massive exchange of emails between others from FreeA3, all directed to me: we were all wondering when, exactly you'd out yerself again. first on Mark's b-day thread and once again: 'Oh, how we laughed...'

but i've spent enough time on you, in all truth, too much so. helpful hint: get your husband to change his email addy pronto cause if i see you in my reverse IP lookup again, there's gonna be big trouble. and yes, BIG trouble cause the absolute bullshit with which you ended your post on Nomad's Last Post thread, that shite about me ringing you? as if i'd spend the time and money to do so. 2nd lie that wasn't apparent to most of the Congregation: that shite about the amusement you and your husband got from my (nonexistent) phonecalls. AS FUCKING IF i'd ever bother. y'all shoulda quit whilst you were ahead; as i stated i would've ignored you but that last lie was just too much.

did you not realise or did it not occur to you that one (real) phonecall from me, telling Glenn ALL would end up in shitloads of trouble with you as recipient? in all fairness, i'm totally against butting in on supposedly private family goings-on. but one more hate-mail shall lead to one phonecall from me to Glenn, telling him all. but why bother? however, permit me to direct you to those emails you begged me to trash; remember? those sent me within two weeks before your ungrateful ass landed at Heathrow?


guess what? i've got 'em, all of them (though i actually lied and yes'd you to death with your increasingly desperate pleas for me to trash 'em). why did i keep 'em? i honestly couldn't say but something – and i can't explain any of the somethings that occur to me, apart from terming them ESP which i surely don't have; anyway, something compelled me to keep 'em all. and i shall be happy to forward them along to Glenn, you foolish excuse for an Alabama 3 fan.

moving right along, amidst our laughter we conjectured that you were even more stoopit than we originally assumed. anyone else would've totally dropped off and signed up with another username. in all truth, a few months ago, i noticed a new member, screen-naming herself IHOPEURHAPPYNOW and the general consensus was yes, that's you. but rilly and truly: i'ze a sad kitteh: i was hoping that that particular n00b FreeA3 member would post something, anything (cuz your shite spelling, usage and grammar would immediately out you). but nooooooo... in discussion in mails and on the phone, the talk amongst those you met and those who only had the displeasure of checking you out?:


what's truly hilarious: at the London afterparty, Samantha came up to me, pointed you out and informed me (paraphrasing) 'That chick came over here all the way from the States – is that crazy or what?' – believe me, i was dying to tell her just how crazy that was but i didn't wanna get into it and ruin both her and my enjoyment at the afterparty. so although it was difficult, i managed to suppress myself and just kinda grinned, keeping the foul details to myself.

FYI, i still have your landline. oh, the fun i could have with that but i have much better things to do with my time and money. the thing of it is, although i should, i neither regret the time wasted explaining the above; in all honesty i just don't want you reading me cause not only are you too dumb to understand the 'hard' words i use, but i'd rather have quality not quantity. and Indiana Ingrate, you're an awful lotta quantity.


BTW, out of respect for one of my good friends, i totally won't out the reason we jumped at getting your ungrateful ass over here. and yeah, he's STILL one of my good friends. awwww, poor you. and what totally kills me is that you lied to setmajer et al., telling one and all you'd attempted to offer me an apology at the London afterparty. nah, you apologised to everyone else but you prevaricated to me. as well, you had the Oxford and Brighton gigs to get me alone to apologise but did you? one fucking guess. *snigger*.

back to the London afterparty, once i deigned to turn round and face you in order to hear your bullshit (stupidly thinking i'd hear some semblance of an apology), since you were facing the rest of the afterparty, i briefly wondered why you quit in midsentence and turned on the tears. that is, i wondered until i turned round and saw (let's call him) Dave approaching. you were the furthest thing from tearsy when you were busy berating me. but seeing Dave? you went into instant sobbing mode before he led you away for what i'm sure were free drinks (and i'm also sure, going by your typically lowlife behavior) you didn't even offer to pay for any of them.

what kills me (in an LOL way) is that which i learnt way after yer ass was gone: that when you apologised to Pam and Stevie, Pam (of all people!) immediately asked you 'When's your flight again, tomorrow?' – when she told me the above, i almost died laughing; i mean, that's so un-Pam, to be nearly rude.

OK, to all and sundry: if the above doesn't make any sense, no worries. it's directed to the only person (out of the hundreds i've first met online and then hooked up with in meatspace) who didn't appear in TRW, in meatspace, as the shy, fairly dignified quiet entity she posed as on any of the many iterations of FreeA3 over the years. what i didn't bother touching on, on either of my two posts to her on that Last Post thread:

after she'd arrived at mine and had the misfortune ('misfortune' to her and her alone), after she had her ass seated at MY place for not half an hour and witnessed the Rock & Rimone Show (so called by Chris, after first seeing it many times up at his during Winter 2007) and then how it ended by me being the recipient of the surprise kiss upon which he bestowed upon me, everybody, and i mean – everyone – who witnessed same, seated round the coffeetable in my LR told me much later on, her reaction: the look on her face was similar to daggers = pure hatred towards me. ohhhh, poor baby. no wonder she corralled him in my kitchen and did it in such a chickenshit way.

she couldn't just say, like any civilised person would've, something like 'Rock, can i speak to you alone?' but she waited until i left the room to look out the front window to see if his taxi had arrived, the one that whisked him off to his soundcheck. you shoulda seen the look he shot to me when i came into the kitchen to tell him his taxi was here. but he's such a lovely dude with typically polite British manners and believe me, he wasn't about to be rude and push her off. anyway, the look he shot, over her shoulder, to me was priceless.


believe it or not, i could hardly see him as her hugeness was in my line of vision; her arms were round him and being as uh... let's call it large-boned as she is, i could hardly see his way fine bod, totally being smothered. but his look was priceless and yet again, i wish i had my phone in hand, to capture it.


back to The Kiss That Ended what she'd seen of The Rock & Rimone Show, if only i'd seen her reaction up close and personal but i was in surprise mode cause never did any Rock & Rimone Show end like that. i'm sure he did it for his own hilarious shock value purposes as i'm also sure she was the last person on his mind when said kiss was bestowed. suck it up, bitch.

my point, reiterated: one more nasty hate-filled mail from her and yes, i SHALL phone Glenn and tell him all. the fact she thought nothing of breaking up not one, but two marriages, in each of which there are children concerned, just lowers my already low opinion of her. and i shall once more repeat: ONE MORE MIS-SPELT hateful mail from her and no matter if her landline's changed, i shall track her down and fill poor Glenn in on the details. as William S Burroughs once said 'A word to the wise guy...'

but then again, she's the furthest thing from 'wise'. ONE MORE MAIL FROM HER WILL END IT and the only regret i have, is to be the one informing her husband but hey, i laugh at her mis-spellings and fucked usage, something about which, i imagine illiterates try and (in her case totally) fail to hide her true ID. one more hate-filled mail, dude... and in all truth, gimme a reason; keep on sending this transparent bullshit pretending (and failing) you're somebody else.

moving away and off from the subject of Ugly American (as far away the better) and back to my original raison d'etre or whatever (as post title suggests), i knew, just totally knew there were many other things wrong with me, things undiagnosed apart from the givens (the ADD and/or ADHD, the Tourette's and the damn Asperger's and most recently, Chris and Stephen's agreement about the Agoraphobia); those things which all my life have kept me from enjoying the perks that normals seemed so wild about. well, given that suicide's so taboo a subject (apart from anything writtily emitted From My Desk At Chez Hunter), i can only assume that maybe 'perks' isn't the right term for anything to do with the good things of having a normal life but i'm at a loss for words now (LOL yer all missing out, but truly, cause if anyone were here with me now, they'd be witnessing me in the most alien mode ever – STFU mode).

not tawking teh drugs here, not by a long shot but i sure wish i were. *looks longingly at bounteous array of Stuff on coffeetable* in all truth, i've decided to go it alone today, without any of my usual chemical assistance. y'know, 'just to see', which is my M.O throughout life cause i do whatever wack thing for the only reason of 'i wanna see' what'll happen. to the unitiated: 'just to see' includes experimenting on myself with teh drugs, with my online and meatspace banter, basically doing anything i don't know how it'll end &c. in fact, i wanna see with EVERY thing that strikes me at whatever moment.

obviously and a big duh to y'all especially those still reading looking for mentions of Freebase. yer all in vain, so don't bother. though he and i are still friends or whatever y'all wanna term it, i shall not draw even more attention to this site by breathlessly repeating that which he feeds me. not that i'll keep it to myself (LOL, as if i could). i can only imagine he's buying shitloads of Speed-0s to traverse the States. temp's like 95 F / 100% humidity in NYC today. *giggle* good luck, d00d. :-)

18,48: oopsy, i posted above before we talked on the phone before. *breathless demented groupie mode* y'all are in for a big surprise; he's actually read a summation of that which we termed the PPL (Presleyterian Public Licence) based on Open Source and Creative Commons values, of which Chris and i are major proponents. anyway, in essence, it all has to do with proper online guerilla promo done by fans of Alabama 3. and yeah, Mark digs that which i've permitted him to see.

i've got my work totally cut out for me: the original PPL had to do with pushing the entire Alabama 3 and i'm in the midst of honing down each and every one of our ideas, honing them down for Freebase alone. and i cannot wait until it all goes into action. his first step? i imagine has something to do with works in progress and thass all i'm gonna say about that. but for all youse Rock Freebase fans – if any o' this comes to fruition we're all to be even wealthier by virtue of his own – how shall i put it without spelling it out? OK, we all shall be much richer, music-wise.

thank fuckity fuck Mark's brilliant and has the vision to get it. unfortunately for the band, Derek, the president of One Little Indian, loved our concept but told Chris and me, whilst still in DE, that it wasn't up to him and we should send our general concepts to their then-manager, someone whom i call Bob the Blob. the idiot was without vision (apart from NEVER booking them anywhere, really). anyway, BtB totally ignored us, which was a shame cause 5 years back, had they even listened to us, they wouldn't be in the hole they're still in. well, 'hole' in that they're still labelled a cult or novelty band, which is the furthest thing the Alabama 3 are.

thank you Rock (errrr, i mean Mark) and big sloppy NYC kisses, something i failed to end today's phone convo with. *snigger* mostly cause i didn't wanna hear your UGHs on the phone. *triple snigger*

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SKULLS! dammit!

at least today's griping is, in all truth, the farthest thing from the crucial but please don't take it to mean it doesn't bother me way muchly. YES, i'ze fussed and extremely so. OK, at this very moment, Kate's over here (LOL reading the Xenophobes Guide to the British and laughing her ass off) and we're on our way out. being a way taller grrl than i am (no comments please, especially from Freebase – yes i already know everybody's taller than i am*. that's what 'height-impaired' means, dammit to hell).

*oopsy no offence to Electric Landlady (whom i actually believe is taller than i am but shhhhh, don't tell her – that means YOU, Dave).

moving right along, since Kate's way taller than i am, i gave her a pair of the same trousers. now dig the backstory: i've got five pairs of the trousers people usually see me in. y'know, those plain black ones with the zips on the back pockets. anyway, when i was really depressed a coupla years ago, my fat ass couldn't fit into any of the five.


so on my trip back to NYC in early 06, i bought a pair of the same trousers but one size larger. took 'em back here, tried them on and then immediately hid 'em on the most tippytop shelf in the wardrobe cause they gave me a damned muffin top.


but what was worse, for the first time in my life, i had an 'innie' belly button. no shit – i never in my life had anything but an outie. fun fact: somewhere in my vasty accumulations of facts gleaned via my insatiable reading, i learnt that the French think that outie belly buttons are way sexy. anyway, with that in mind, apart from the damn flab hanging over the waist- rather, the lowcut hip band, i couldn't handle this new innie bb.

now. where was i? right, so i gave Kate my extra pair of trousers. when she had 'em on i almost flipped since they'd changed a small detail. well, it must've been a tiny change to them but it totally freaked me out cause i wanted it on MY damn trousers (yes, all five pairs o' them). dig both pairs of our jeans together:


see the dif? HERS HAS A WAY COOL SKULL LABEL ON. oh, the total indignity of it all, the absolute injustice. shakey-handed drunken CU of the skulls label i'm so dying to have on mine.


BTW, since Kate didn't approve not one of the absolutely gorgeous photos i took of her (believe me, they were beautiful and she's very photogenic but it was up to her and she totally disapproved each and every one of them), anyway, she had no compunction with the photos i just took of her tats.



and if it weren't for this next tat, i wouldn't have the skull (now healed) on my shoulder today.


we're both going back on wednesday; thank the lord the minute i saw the chick she calls Dolly (after Dolly Parton) on her arm last friday night, i got up the stones to actually talk to her. and before y'all ask, no, she's not gay. she's just like me; she appreciates female beauty.

on our way out now – poor Kate, she hadda wait until i finished this post. but there's all those Vitamins to be taken (like C, D, X and/or E et al). laters, y'all.

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state of the Slum(p) III

Happy Summer Solstice all you pagans and such. with that outta the way, above pic taken whilst in the smoking garden at the Hope & Anchor on sunday night as i tried to ignore both Chris and Stephen's analysing my recent behavior as well as my innermost thoughts and aspirations which i so stupidly told them. all i can say is, the view was just gorgeous and too bad for me it's only a phone-pic cause none of the glorious historic details showed up. what still kills me (in a good way) is that it stays light out so long after what i'm used to: in NYC it begins to get dark just about 20,45.

right, this is what i was dying to tell Techie-boy before he took off sunday night. *sniffle* nah, fuck that: *sobs*


but since i cannot handle rejection in any way, shape or form, i knew it'd be ridiculous to even mess about by showing him this LOLCat. *singing* but he knows no-owwwww...

OK, this'll be quick. wait – i just looked up on this 'create post' page: WTF? yet another 'Scheduled outage at 3,00PM Pacific time'.


*to self* 'why oh why did i go with the LCD masses?' oh wait; i know why. cause Techie-boy told me i'd be offline for only 'Two or three weeks at most...' had i known, i'd have surely gone over to Wordpress and used one of their free thingies instead.

i'ze stoopit – i should've paid more attention when his second report went something like 'Errr... uh, it looks like I've forgotten more about CSS Style sheets than i originally thought i had...' but my everlasting, everpresent Denial (the best friend i have, an entity which actually shields me from TRW) totally missed his real meaning.


moving right along, some quickie notes to those who've taken the time to care and mailed me since yesterday. before i name names, i wanna say i love youse all (in the only way i know i'm capable of that emotion; 'lacking' to put it mildly). kinda liek:



as well, i wanna say i shall be getting back to each and every one of youse ASAP. OK, big thanks to Xamichee (Nobody just liek meh); Lazy, Christine, Chris, Jem, Kate, Stephen and Mr and Mrs Ifor The Engine for mailz and for the music made possible by the very secret Schoff. there, d00d, yer outed again. i torry (in a way; i think everybody should be thanking your way fine ass for giving us all these truly bootleg, totally fabaroo Alabama 3 gigs and stuff).

uh... tangentially speaking (*whispers* it's the ADD!) i think i'm safe in posting this next LOL Cat which i shall present without further comment apart from stating it's the truth on more than the basic level.


oh wow, almost forgot: a huge thank-you to Abeizer. d00d! my phone was turned on Silent right before i crashed at about 07,00 this morning and i just remembered to turn the sound back on and found your txt. i shall be getting back to you a bit later on today at a reasonable hour. i am sorry 'bout that... :-(

OK, before i go on, dis nxt iz to Kate – though it doesn't appear to be so (not yet especially since she hasn't met those who know me better, those who'll totally attest i ain't lying) *sigh* u'll see and in due time, you poor liddle thing.


*evil* and THIS is for Lazy, in reply to your... well, y'all know what your mail sed. *snigger* (soz d00d, i couldn't resist). right, U can haz mah deepiss simputhee (not RLY) cuz i'ze SRY (not RLY) teh LOLCats 2 much n comng out UR eers. eyeses. whatever.



fun fact: the best thing that happened to me friday is i woke up at like 17,00. OK, i'm outta here cause i akshually have something to do (meenz go Out) saturday night (bah... at least it's not a Date: that word conjures up the epitome of boring straightness cause i never ever had one and never ever wanted anything that could resemble one). but speaking of dates... *evil*

OK, been meaning to say this but keep on forgetting: there's a chick living downstairs with whom i got friendly a few months back (yes, she reads me). well, Suzanne, i wanna give you a message from Rock Freebase: he said to tell you 'Thank you for the honor of permitting me to put you on the guestlist for our last Bristol gig.'

from past experience, i actually envisioned this when we first got together but Denial was doing its thing again. anyway, two weeks after we met and began to hang, she desperately went online and joined some dating site. i made the next to demonstrate what i think usually happens when one does that here but that's me; from what i've heard, i'm a firm believer that Brit etiquette forces the parties involved to muddle on through whilst they're carrying on. *snigger*


but back to the dating site! *yawn* wonder of wonders – i got to hear how over a coupla hundred checked out her profile on the very first day! i think this is tantamount to being crowned Queen Shit, not sure; as well, this is where The Frozen Grin Perfected comes in handy). and it didn't take long before she snagged herself a BF. nb: from what i've heard, he's been emotionally damaged. recently). anyway, then she asked me to ask Mark if she could see Alabama 3 for nothing when they played Bristol (plus one, mind – the absolute fucking nerve).

welp, y'all know the rest: the last time we spoke was the night of the gig. the BF looked a bit alarmed before, during and after and i can't imagine why. maybe due to my guests? or the fact that Rock Freebase, the real true guitarist of the Alabama 3 was up here? or that we were all loaded and there was a shitload of smoke going round?

what i don't wanna believe: Larry's cursing and drugs refs turned him off, just stressing the fact that i always thought she was nice but way too straight. *yawn* and worse yet, pretending. *rolls eyes* the thing of it is, after the gig, i never heard from her, not one fucking word, not even a thank you. this was even after i txtd her and then, a week later, mailed her. Suzanne, y'all are the rudest Brit i've ever met. LOL ––> but as long as you're happy.

just the other day, i ran into her for the first time since 27. april; we passed outside on Bellevue and kinda like nodded to each other. i had a huge smirk on my face and i hope my look was haughty (not sure if i have 'haughty' down yet). anyway, that's the way it is, has always been and i'm sure shall always be for the rest of my life, just one reason more i shall NEVER trust another chick. i mean, i'd rather be home with a book than pretend to dig someone, out of desperation.

buh-bye, Suzanne, it was (kinda) nice knowing you for the short time it lasted until it became oh so very obvious you totally needed a man in your life. um... i'm wondering if you told him everything you told me... *snigger* like about that *buck's date? you remember the one, it was on the morning of the evening you decided you were in love with Damaged Man... *satisfied smirk and a huge British two-finger salute*

onto more important things like me, me, me... hee.


just remembered the latest thing i read online, somethng to which i completely related (making me even more depressed) but totally the truth. folie de doute: pathologically obsessive doubt about everything. their def? 'A mental disorder characterized by extreme indecision, especially concerning everyday matters, and a pathological preoccupation with minute details'.

well, i'm more of a black and white yes/no type person but the above smells like a whiff of Asperger's to me. another, this time from BiPolar OCD: 'Bipolar obsessive / compulsive disorder: confirmation of results of the "ABC-OCD" survey in 2 populations of patient members versus non-members of an association....' OK, that's more my style. unfortunately. anyway, i can't and won't summarise the rest, too ripped a bit too muchly so read it for yourselves. all i got was more reason to be totally down for the count. but my Denial tells me it ain't depression, it's boredom *snigger* if only! this is not me:


here i was a few hours back, trying to ignore the above cause right now, it's totally not ennui; i'm attempting to appear normal (wearing The Big Lebowski T-shirt Chris brought me, so thanks, Babe). please notice Hunter at lower left totally ignoring me (this is normal behavior for him).


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skulls, hatchets, hope & anger

my big accomplishment or whatever: i actually went Out tuesday night and met Kate at The Hatchet, same place Chris and i first met her last friday night. all the way over, i was like having anxiety attacks, even worser than usual, not only cause i was out for no apparent reason in the dreaded daylight but since Chris and Stephen decided on sunday evening that i was agoraphobic as well as all the other shit that's wrong with me but i'll get to that later (if i remember).

anyway, i'm walking down Queens Road thinking 'bloody hell, am i gonna hafta like, wait for her? ALONE?' *weebil* brrrrr... *shudder* so i took my time, taking camera-pics of buildings i'd never see in the States.


these pics actually serve a higher purpose: i print 'em out (especially those of the changing foliage outside my windows) and send 'em to my mother and sister whenever the going gets rough. lemme clarify: 'the going gets rough' = whenever they vocally veer into Forbidden Territory: why i'm still in England – alone. *cue spookey music* LOL, forget the fact they've all known for ages i've always wanted to not just visit but actually live here (if they can forget that stuff, y'all can forget it as well). um... so forget it, please. it's a very sensitive subject.

anyway, back to tuesday night, i had these heavy-duty panic attacks the entire time walking whilst txtng my head off to Kate and like whining 'are you there yet?' but no... and since i walk really fast without even thinking on it, i flipped when i realised i was like a hundred yards from the pub. that's when i got to the underpass or whatever it is, that ancient structure on Park Street – it's like a stone-walled walkway down a bunch of really old slate steps and i would've been ooh-ing and ah-ing if i weren't alone but instead, i was popping V.s like mad each time i heard from Kate in txts like 'Left work late' and 'Missed the bus'. *whimper*

despite disappointment (euphemism), i was all trying to keep my cool (hah – as IF) and kill time and stuff and for once, looked up and there it was: one of a few controversial Banksy works in the news last year.


the idiotic Philistine hoo-ha, boiled down: '...Last year, Bristol residents were invited by the city council to decide whether a Banksy image of a naked man hanging out of a window on the side of a public building should remain. Of 500 people who responded on the askbris-tol.com forum, 97 per cent supported the work...'

anyway, after my last, most frantic txt to Kate (who must think – rather, who's in no doubt i'd totally lost my mind, even though she was warned), i kinda like dawdled, virtually drinking in the Banksy, trying to ignore my rising panic. this was me: 'oooh, Banksy. wait – i'm outside. pop, gulp, pop, gulp. ooh, Banksy. wait – i'm outside...' (lather, rinse repeat).


the other day found me on the sofa ogling the pages of Wall and Piece for the first time in like months and i totally forgot that i'd hidden the meatspace copy of this article inside cause i loved what he'd said about his work:

'Some of the paintings have taken literally days to make. Essentially, it's about what a horrible place the world is, how unjust and cruel and pointless life is, and ways to avoid thinking about all that. One of the best ways turned out to be sitting in a warehouse making paintings about cruelty, pain and pointlessness.'

errrr... where was i? right, after i absorbed the wall, i got all determined and headed – well, in all truth, i wobbled down to the Hatchet the very second Kate showed up. LOL, relief! but what a shame; i took all those V.s for nothing but i ain't gonna think about that now. we got very drunk, laughed our asses off almost continuously and ended up fucking with these dudes who were trying to fuck (with) us. we ended up wending our way back up to mine where we pigged out then watched V for Vendetta and A Fish Called Wanda. it'd been light out for about an hour when we finally crashed like at 05,00-ish.

we were up at 09,00 (we thank you, um... Captain Stimulus) cause she had an appointment over at Holey Skin (next door to where Alabama 3 has their afterparties) and the second i walked in with her i instantly got addicted all over again, even though it's been 11, 12 years since my last tat. it's my first 'out' one (the others being on my back and front) and i'm totally in love with it and going back next week for more.



right, you'll find no photos of Kate here cause i'm busy busting someone's balls; a very close friend actually, who lives kinda like near London but not really. *sneer* you know who you are, dude. *shoots daggers* *giggle*

whoa, it's like 23,30 over here and i haven't even finished the story including the fucked discussion (as if i weren't even there) that Chris and Stephen had about my mental faculties or whatever over at the The Hope & Anchor the other night but that'll have to wait. i took this sitting in the back smoking garden as i tried to ignore them but couldn't help listening to them drone on about psychiatrics and things of that nature. the words 'getting worse' were mentioned more than once. whatever. :-(


to be continued ASAP but only maybe if i feel like it. BTW, after the tat sessions Kate and i had lunch (yup, at the Hatchet again) and i couldn't even make it up Park Street towards home without stopping off at some wild shop when i saw this.


i really can't stand cigarette cases and totally can't handle the idea of those who use them but i heard a fucked rumor over the weekend: it seems that, just like they're doing in Canada, all cigarette packets will trash the warnings they already have on them now, in order to print their labels with photos of blackened lungs and such. like that's really gonna deter people from smoking... *snigger* but there's no way in hell i'm gonna go round with pictures of that shit on my butts, so it's the usual story: that cigarette case... it called to me; like it had my name written on it.

whoa, is that the time? *snigger* y'know, time for my dinner and to watch Aguirre, The Wrath of God again. oh, BTW, i've received some complaints lately, well not complaints exactly; it's just some have noticed my focus seems to be changing again. *clears throat* to all those whom actually piped up: yer right. DEAL WITH IT. ;-)

soz, dudes... and that's all, folks. :-)

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