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Anyone that thinks women are bitches should try dating men sometime.
Seriously. I ain’t even mad, just annoyed. Like ok, delete me off Facebook in a hissy when I tell you I don’t want to see you anymore. That’s fine, whatever, expected behavior. Add me back later, ok, that’s expected behavior also. Past is past, everybody is friendly, all good. But then delete me AGAIN and be all pissy because you got butthurt over a sarcastic comment on my part (which was – and I quote – “ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKER DO YOU SPEAK IT”) and you’re just being a little girl, dude.
Funny how the ones that play off being the least sensitive always turn out to be the biggest bitches. I tend to wrongfully assume that won’t be the case, maybe because I’m personally not that sensitive and it’s not at all feigned on my part so I assume everyone has the capability to man up. My bad. But omfg, dudes are always like “BAWWWWWW my tortured past, it hurts me up my ass in my most tenderest areas! Also, excuse me while I fuck you shallowly and then wonder why you don’t appreciate getting nailed with the first 1/3 of my already unimpressive man-steel.” Man, whoever is telling you the “just the tip” method is pleasurable is lying to you. Between your endless fail whining and my cervix feeling terribly alone when you were around, I had a pretty good case for issuing a cease-and-desist order. Nothing personal, except that it totally is. Now you’re a bitch on top of it.
Well whatever, I ditched that dude in November anyway. I just hate thinking that everything is cool and then at the slightest provocation, BAWWWWWWWWW!!!
ugh
gggodddd men are such embarrassing faggots sometimes.
ARRGH
My epic sexual frustration is matched only by my utter disinterest in every man around me. I haven’t had more than a passing fancy in anyone in what feels like forever, and passing fancies do not equate to a regular, fulfilling sex life. I actually think this is the longest I’ve gone without a solid sex life since…as long as I can remember off the top of my head. It is driving me fucking nuts (but not nuts enough to do anything regrettable, so don’t hold your breath, nerds).
The Death Machine is visiting on mid-tour leave in about a month and a half. I am completely looking forward to a solid 10 days of one-man gangrape. And you know, I am willing to bet that my soft, utterly out of shape self will give that lean, hungry, in-his-prime soldier a neck and neck run for his money in the stamina department. I’m not one for exercise or doing much of anything on a physical level if I can help it, but I seem to be able to maintain incredible amounts of sexual energy around someone I’m starving for. It’s only when I’m disinterested that I get lazy and wear out. Mmm-mmm. If I’m not sore and bruised for a week after he leaves, then we did it wrong.
A little while ago I updated Twitter saying, “love and sex, I wish I could get you in bed together again.” That’s true. I never seem to have the opportunity to really foster an involvement with someone anymore (partially due to the fact that I have not gotten involved with anyone who lived in the same state as me for half a year), and I miss the long lazy days in bed when you know you have all the time in the world to get to know each other. In the short term, given the choice between emotional development and straight up full on beastfucking I’ll take the sexual option every time, but it’s really not optimal. I want something that will develop and actually last as opposed to being quick and dirty and gone. Lacking that, though…bring on the friction burn.
Morality is relative
Even good people do douchey things sometimes. May as well enjoy it when it works in your direction, I suppose, so long as you’re not prone to get too wrapped up in it.
Unrelated: is it super bad to think, “Maybe this person is just parroting what I want to hear…if that is the case, then they’re a very talented sociopath” and get excited about it? Sort of like the emotional equivalent of extreme sports?
Truthfully, I’m watching myself sink into a deep state of blah. I don’t feel miserable or whatever, I’m just super uninspired, specifically where people are concerned. If it falls in my lap, cool. If not…eh, I can’t be fucked to care. That sort of sucks because for a moment there I was like “holy shit maybe I do have a heart!” but then it was like /fail. Then it was like, “no wait, THIS is what it’s like to have a heart” and then I was like /meh. But you know, it goes back and forth with me. Some days I’m all fire and life and passion and volatility. Other days I’m the spiritual equivalent of driftwood, or maybe an old shoe. Both things have the capability to be good or bad, but the old shoe end of the spectrum tends to be a bit boring.
It’s funny that at 35 years old, I still have trouble accepting the fact that everyone is fallible. Some idiotic part of me continues to try to believe in the goodness and solidity of people despite being proven wrong in ten thousand ways. Certain people excel at certain things in certain situations; no one excels at everything all the time. I know that. But, try convincing me of it. I’ll nod sagely and agree and then shrug off the advice and jump off another cliff the moment it suits me to do so. And that’s alright – I stopped fighting my own nature a long time ago. Still, it’s always disappointing to put someone you love in the category of One Of Them.
Most of this stuff is pretty wildly unrelated. None of it has anything to do with you.
My incredibly diverse genetics.
I sent in my 23andMe raw genetic data to a former genetic researcher at the University of Illinois, and he came back with a “best match” list of ethnicities for me. Keep in mind this sort of dates like 40,000+ years ago, so exact country names and ethnicities do change. Also, apparently Native American doesn’t show up as it’s own thing, because they drifted into North America through Siberia and East Asia…so in someone like me with both European and Asian descent, Native American doesn’t distinguish and gets treated as noise data included into those two categories as opposed to showing as an ethnic population of its own. This seems to be further complicated by a lack of data from full-blooded Native Americans.
Anyway, my ancient line runs about as follows (from the email of the researcher):
“Most likely fit is 70.3% (+- 0.3%) Europe (all Western Europe)
and 26.5% (+- 1.0%) E. Asia (various subcontinents)
and 2.4% (+- 0.2%) Africa (all East African)
and 0.9% (+- 0.6%) S. Asia (various subcontinents)
and it looks somewhat odd … but an actual “best” match is
Irish=0.342
Belarus=0.253
Japanese=0.229
Spain=0.139
Malaysia=0.037
…with just perhaps a teensy bit of African.”
Haha, I’m most surprised by the Irish. Granted, with the kind of time period we’re talking about I seriously doubt that modern “Irish” is what is being represented here, but still, kinda interesting. Belarus doesn’t surprise me, as my father’s family traces back to old Prussia (and currently, Germany and Austria). The church that most of my family was christened in back through the 1500′s is located in central Germany, which was then Prussia. As for Spain, who knows…I assume someone mixed with someone Spanish in my European past a zillion years ago. Probably the same with Malaysia and the Japanese. The African part, I can only guess at. Someone was having a moment?
My Japanese side traces to the Okinawan/Ryukyuan as opposed to the mainland Japanese. I knew that part and the Prussian/Belarussian part already. Where did that big old chunk of Irish come from, though? So weird! Then again, the researcher also sent me a map with my overall “genetic average” point…and it centers in the north-eastern area of Germany and east towards Belarus. My matrilineal side strongly centers in Okinawa. So however the science of these percentages works out (and it is _really_ confusing to read), I think essentially I’m Prussian and Okinawan.
I’d still like to know what that whole Irish bit is supposed to mean.
Genetics is a fun topic.
The definition of “stalker”: a history
stalk·er/ˈstôkər/
Noun:
- A person who stealthily hunts or pursues an animal or another person.
- A person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention.
- You continually harass me and bother me with your desperate, pathetic attentions despite the fact that you’re well aware that I think you’re a disgusting piece of shit because I have told you this bluntly on many occasions
- You are obsessively and unhealthily drawn to visit my page hundreds of times and follow every detail of my life and become emotionally involved/jealous of things that happen to me or that I do when all you’ve ever received from me are endless insults and scorn
- You do childish, insipid, creepy psycho shit like Photoshopping yourself into pictures with me and lamely pretending like we know each other or have any connection whatsoever
- You have other friends and fake accounts set up to “spy” on me and my activities because you’re desperate and pathetic and have no life and a face that looks like a wet paper bag.
- You continually try to find out where I live, and other personal information.
AKA, like this fucking dork.
Clearly he is an excellent digital artists. I stand impressed, nay, humbled before such displays of skill.
While I have to admit that I find it patently hilarious to imagine this AIDS-faced loser taking pictures of himself kissing empty air because he’s planning on Photoshopping himself into pictures of me with gay bullshit like dragons and lens flares (and wtf is that 2nd one, a club that neither of us was at? I love how his faggoty attempt at romance just makes me look like I was being an asshole to him anyway), I genuinely don’t understand how someone can be this ludicrously pathetic and not just throw themselves off a cliff in a fit of despair. 
Yeah, he prints out pictures of me and hangs them in Ikea, then poses with them. The guy’s name is Ronny Neidhardt (also goes by Graf Ronny Neidhardt von Leuchtenberg in a bid to sound important) and he lives in Germany. He thinks he’s some kind of gothic overlord now, but this was him in high school:
A couple of years ago (this fucking moron has been following me around like a kicked dog for about 5 goddamned years now) he found a fake Twitter account I had made while drunk for my ex Adam. It had like a grand total of 2 tweets on it, both about hair gel and shame. In other words, it wasn’t exactly serious or something that would fool anyone sporting more than a brain stem, but it fooled this guy, in part because he’s fucking retarded and part because he can’t speak English worth a shit. So he starts messaging “Adam” and tries to get my personal information out of him. Which was totally hilarious, since he was talking to me the entire time.
Then he left comments on a post on my page, blabbing about some senseless shit I don’t know wtf and telling me about how he hated Adam, lol. 
HAHA. I didn’t say very nice things about myself. It was more believable that way. It was actually a lot of fun making shit up and bagging on myself. Sometimes I think that fully 2/3 of the wildly inaccurate stories out there about me are the ones I made up for the lolz.Anyway, this goatfucker, whose Facebook you can see here, actually was crazy enough to recruit this sad local slag named Morgan-Jolie Reemes (aka CottageKitty) to befriend me on Facebook and send him all of my private posts (update: she deleted her Facebook since I linked her, but you can find her old MySpace here and her old Livejournal here if you’re up for a really boring read…she has no pix more recent than 2008 or so, but this is the lantern-jawed hoochie slag. You assholes wanna stalk? That shit can go both ways). She sent him email after email, pasting him everything I said on Facebook though none of it had anything to do with him, and alternately telling him how amazing and gorgeous I was and how fucked up I am and I’d only hurt his poor dessicated little heart….as though I even know this fucker in the first place. Apparently he has this whacked-out sob story that involves us…I don’t know, having some kind of romantic connection? Whatever. I figured it out and busted her, and she sent me a long insane rambling email in response and told me that I should feel thankful to her for helping this gothic crackbaby stalk me because he loves me or whatever and obviously I have a problem if I do not return that love. Verily! I call that ‘taste’, but she calls that ‘a problem’. Tomatoe, tomahto. Sucks being a fug crippled parasite bitch with no skills who lost custody of your kid and is married to some dude 25 years older than you because you can’t support yourself, and Skype-sexing some scrawny foreign dork and getting involved in his fake life because his fake bullshit is still more interesting than your complete lack of anything worthwhile, I guess! And then getting jealous and weird over it because he’s obsessed with me more than you? WTF. Oh, and apparently he sent me “thousands of dollars worth of gifts” to me magically without even knowing where I live…and of course it wasn’t trackable or insured or anything. And he could sue me for posting his lulzy pictures of ME that he Photoshopped, btw, because that makes them “his art”. RIIIIIIGHT. Spoken like a true stay at home useless pile of shit that never amounted to anything more than being a truck driver. Dismissed.
By the way, if this jackass does have a friend in SF that’s helping him stalk me like both he and she have said – you better fucking pray to baby lord jesus that I never find out who you are.
There’s few things in the world more wrong than a woman who helps a psycho stalk another woman. You have got to be one seriously sad puddle of stank cunt pus to be pulling that kinda shit on a fellow girl. I don’t go in with that whole ‘female solidarity’ thing as a general rule, but some shit you just don’t help guys do…like STALKING. ”You should be thanking me for helping some guy you don’t know stalk you from thousands of miles away even though you find him completely disgusting and he has a face that resembles the petrified left testicle of a Stegosaurus” is eerily close to the same kind of logic some fucked up mothers use when they let their boyfriends molest their children. It’s love, right? You should be THANKFUL. You DESERVE IT. Someone shoot both of these assholes in the face. Even funnier? This bitch is fucking MARRIED and has a TEENAGE SON. Get off my god damned internet and remember to cut lengthwise, not across.
Anyway before anyone starts telling me to “just ignore” this master of a thousand fleas, keep in mind that this has been going on since I lived in Italy. Which would be 2007. I HAVE ignored him, for YEARS. I have insulted him in every conceivable way. I have asked him (relatively) nicely to leave me the fuck alone. IT DOES NOT WORK. That’s the nature of a real stalker. If this grimy pig’s asshole was local I’d have gone and visited him with a couple of friends (probably my female friends, since the guy looks like he weighs a buck twenty at most) and beaten his goddamned face in by now. That’s what people like this need – a serious asskicking resulting in hospitalization and major reconstructive surgery. THAT is when they start to get the message that they’re unwanted emotional abortions, and not before.
The guy is still trying to figure out where I live, which is hilarious. Seriously, bring it on, dude. I have a machete that has a date with your face, you gross little pansy boyfucker.
When I die…
Whenever I get around to dying – which I’m sure will be suddenly and stupidly, since 35 years of my kind of reckless bad attitude is bound to end up over-tempting fate eventually – do me a favor and flame the shit out of any do-gooders who say they’re “praying for me” or “god bless” or that “I’m with Christ/in Heaven now” or any of that crap. So many people I’ve known that were lifetime atheists and agnostics are disrespected after they die with religious sentiments that I know they would have hated, and it pisses me off every time, especially in that their loved ones seem to allow and even encourage that shit.
I guarantee I am not going to heaven if there is one, anyway. Since I don’t think they let half-breed asians into Valhalla, I’ll have to settle for meifumado.
If there IS an afterlife, I will come back and troll the hell out of all you god-fearing schizos, trust. Don’t pray for me, pray that they throw away the key.