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Fuck me - I think I'm the big drunken hero now, carrying my cute little garbage pale with me around the house because I know that any second my innards will be making love to it.

I'm not sure why I'm writing a blog for this site. Maybe typing will take my mind off bile.

So anyway, he says, the gal from my creative writing workshop class sliced off my penis and fed it to me with a spoon. I thought I was cool, being paid 0-30$ for pieces of my fiction, every so often and once in a blue moon, until she flips open her wallet and shows me the 200$ USD that she made from selling something of hers to a nice, big, pretty anthology. No wonder she, out of everyone else in the workshop, intimidates me; not only is the rest of the class painfully unimpressive, at best, but this girl is fucking heads and shoulders above them all in the desireability column, too. That's just a lethal combination. What I'd let her do to me...

But it's okay, because otherwise, the weekend was just peachy. There's nothing like going to a gay bar with a bunch of lesbians. Only they're not lesbians - they just play lesbians on tv and in the bedroom, most of the time.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this: it's brutal being inches away from being disgustingly satisfied, especially when satisfaction comes neatly wrapped in sweaty female couplets.

Hmmm, if only I could somehow transfer my sex life onto the page without sounding like a two dollar harlequinn romance writer. Or a narcissistic wanker. Or one of the CareBears.

Now that I think about it, I left my fucking partner's scarf somewhere downtown when I was stumbling around.

And there's an essay on Hindu deities that's not going to write itself. Conveniantly, the artist left it until today. One day. Hung over. I love this kid - he's got pananche.

I'm hard pressed to figure out what the point of this is. Was. I should shower and wash this waxy product out of my hair.

That's a great BANG! ending: hairstyling products make for dirty lives.

This was fun. Let's do it again sometime.


------
"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen... there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change."

From his Last Will & Testament, Marquis de Sade


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Comments

The following comments are for "Hairstyling Products Make for Dirty Lives"
by strangedaze

strangeblog
oh buoy. droo. so many threads to weave. what a fantastic web.

( Posted by: gibsongirl [Member] On: October 17, 2005 )

SD/ Bile and Bangs
Andrew- There is an all-female University ("finishing school") a few blocks from me. Local pubs are frequented by pairs/groups from campus. They're referred to as LUGs..(lesbians until graduation)...Just an inside aside..

Did you mean "panache?"

Clearly, you haven't been taking your medication.

Roll on,
B

( Posted by: Bobby7L [Member] On: October 18, 2005 )

bad conditioner


Hangovers are even more tenacious than those hairstyling products.

RW- I believe he does indeed mean "pananche", derived from the French "pant anchez"(noun; def: painfully crowded inseam).

&;-{3>

( Posted by: drsoos [Member] On: October 19, 2005 )

Drusoosed
Ahh, related to fr.(15c):le socc estoffer.

Thank you for soosifying.

Sorry Andy...

B

( Posted by: Bobby7L [Member] On: October 20, 2005 )





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