So I ended up getting back together with my beau… sorta. I’m still allowed to see other people… but we had a good sex session and he ate me out real nice. How could I possibly say no to that?

Fuck he looks sooooooooooooooooo goddamn hot in this pic, makes me want him so bad:

That was him grinning his face off in my bed after our “romp”

Here is me after ours:

And our beautiful view of the terrace that we share:

You know, I am starting to warm up more and more to the idea of being together with him. I can’t help but think sometimes just how lucky I am having hit the jackpot with him–he has a muscular body, gorgeous face, is pretty much faithful to me (when it comes to women at least), he loves the swinger lifestyle and the concept of sharing me with other guys, he prefers to be submissive when it comes to doing the house chores and cooking…

I don’t know what my problem is. I am such an absolute perfectionist that I even have to complain about HIM, fuck, I even complained about that super-model that I was dating in Vegas… even my DAD (after he met him) proclaimed how good looking Lars was to my mom, apparently he went on and on about what a buff body he had, and what a perfectly chiseled face it was. He remarked: “I was really impressed by the overall package when Kas brought him home.” This really shocked my mom because she had said that in 20 years of marriage he NEVER once spoke about anybody’s looks in his entire life. Which means, my dad’s jaw must have literally dropped seeing somebody so drop dead gorgeous. He (like most of my male friends) probably thinks I’m a total player too. (This also made me realize just how much of a factor looks and superficiality actually played into warping somebody’s perception of a complete stranger’s character, but that’s another different topic that I will not digress into today)
god, I need to shut the fuck up, if I’m complaining about guys that even other STRAIGHT GUYS would kill to look like, I’m just being too much of a cocky brat. I’m getting spoiled with all the hoardes of men that I’m too selective.

So starting today I’ve decided to stop putting on so much eyeshadow, when I took pictures of myself wearing only eyeliner, and realized that I looked much better without a lot of heavy makeup… in the pics the lighting for some reason made my lips look really pink, they are normally a more tan-brown color, so I’m thinking if I added some lipstick I might look pretty decent.

I just had the best incident driving ever like less than 30 minutes ago.

After I’d gotten my methadone I was making a right and waiting for this car to pass me… but for some reason this girl honked at me like 3 times… and it wasn’t the honk that bothered me, it was the glare… she gave me this glare for like 3 full seconds as if I had just killed her mother.

In my head I was thinking, “WTF?!!?? I stopped for her, that fucking DICK!” and I. just. snapped.

I started tailgating her car, flashing my brights at her, honking nonstop at her, when I could see that she was looking in her rear-view mirror I made these hand gestures that basically said, “I’m going to pound you to a bloody pulp and then slit your fucking throat.”

Then she stopped at a light that had just turned red and I was right behind her. YES!!!! (Bear in mind that this is a very crowded city, cars were everywhere watching this). I parked my car mid-street, come out, and start banging on her window screaming at the top of my lungs, “I STOPPED FOR YOUR DUMBASS, THE FUCK YOU WANT?!!?!!! OPEN YOUR DOOR YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!!! I’M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU!!!!!!!” (Which of course I wasn’t, I was just going to beat her ass and show her who’s boss.)

I start banging even harder on her window, and I could tell the look of anger on her face slowly washed away to fear. Which I’m thinking, ‘Awwww… chubby little white girl doesn’t want to get her ass BEAT?!?!??!’

What’s really funny is, I actually came out of my car and did all this wearing my PAJAMAS and sandals. I wasn’t even wearing sneakers or decent fighting shoes, but I was so pissed off before like I had never been to a stranger in my life. Man, I don’t know what about her pissed me off so much, but it just did. And I loved it. Adrenaline ROCKS!  My heart is still pounding like a fat shot of coke does to ya.
I must have driven home the rest of the way going about 100mph. Maybe that’ll teach her to stop being such a snotty little cunt on the road too.

My boy… TERRIBLE picture of him. but in this one he looks like a young and hot George Michael in this pic, without his gay-ass hair.

Anyways, I’m trying to calmly blow him off without completely tearing him apart. I’m kind of over this whole “being in a relationship” thing, because I can see that he obviously wants to settle down more than I do. And I told him, “I’m sorry, but I’m not a monogamous person, and whoever’s with me is going to have to live with that…” I basically cornered him and said that he has NO CHOICE over this, so he says he is okay with the fact that I like to be “open,” but I can tell he’s not deep down, by the way that he trash talks every guy that I hook up with. Whatever man, if he can’t stop being a whiney little bitch about it, then he wasn’t the one meant for me anyway.

Here are random snippets of a back and forth email (posting what I wrote):

“I’m going to be quite frank too… when I said I was going to “be with you,” I honestly didn’t think I’d be signing up for all these phone talks and all this emotional jibber jabber… I mean… is that IT?!?!!!? Is that all that I get from you?!??!?!?! Look hun, the biggest perk of being with you in the first place was purely SEX-RELATED, and if you’re not even going to give me that, then what the hell do we have! The most basic primal instinct, and you’re withholding it from me once again… it’s funny, you know…. this is the biggest reason I still feel like you’re just my gay-ass friend, and that’s all you’ll ever be. It’s probably another big reason why I just want to screw everybody else so badly right now.

I also feel like lately I have been really wasting my time on the phone with you. I mean a lot of the time we don’t even really talk about anything important, we just sit there and space out… HUGE waste of time. and my god, when we DO talk about something serious, it’s always about something so incredibly dramatic and stupid… like, remember when you made a big deal because I admitted, that yes, I would run off with (Swedish name edited out) if he propostioned??!? well internally, i was asking myself, “are you fucking SERIOUS?!??!!?” is this my fucking life with you?!?!? i have to spend several hours a day explaining myself just to comfort you?!?!? I’m sorry, but this is not a fucking relationship. I’m telling you right now, the best and fastest way to lose me quick is by playing these stupid manipulative games.

Honestly, our phone conversations are the fucking same everyday anyways. All you do is talk about your stupid day, then I talk about my stupid day, then I talk about how much I want to get with these other guys–which, obviously you aren’t even taking the hint from… and then i talk about how you are making me lose focus on what’s really important: my studies.

Maybe you don’t get it, but at my age, the time I’ve spent literally waiting around for your dumbass is actually a VERY long time to wait up for somebody… and it shouldn’t take longer than 6 months for me to see progress from you, considering I’m only asking you for ONE thing. You can’t go around teasing a girl like me with the swinger lifestyle, only to suddenly want to “settle down” the minute you’re free to do it again. That is fucking FALSE ADVERTISING so FUCK YOU!!!!
So, all I’m asking is… don’t call me unless you have something new to talk about. Don’t call me unless your call has a purpose, like you want to talk about our plans for this week or something. As a matter of fact, just don’t think about me as girlfriend material. Period. I know that this will be hard for you, but ultimately it’s for your own good.”

That ought to do it. Yeah I know, I’m the world’s worst girlfriend, but he DID tell me he was into this masochism. Go him.

God, I hate to be one of those guys that can’t shut the fuck up about his sex exploits, but I couldn’t help but notice how Samantha’s last boyfriend in Sex & The City looked EXACTLY like that Russian stripper I fucked (also the hottest man, and coincidentally the best lay that I ever had all rolled in one). If it weren’t for the fact that he was a pure dumbass that couldn’t think for himself, I may have chased after a relationship with him.

He even had the EXACT same body and everything, WTF (actually he was a lot more into bodybuilding, might have been bigger)… I’m beginning to think that I actually fucked Jason Lewis and he was faking a Russian accent when meeting me.

Speaking of which, I have been fucking way too many blondes lately. I am tired of the old coupe… I need a really ethnic looking guy… I’m praying for a Puerto Rican, Brazilian, or a black guy with the nicest body on earth to come my way… Lately I have really been beginning to notice just how beautiful the black race is… anatomically speaking, their bone structure is actually strikingly similar to the Asian race. (for example when the FBI is solving a murder case, usually when the flesh has deteriorated and the person is Asian or black they have a difficult time differentiating which of the two races the victim is)….

Except black guys in America have way more muscular bodies than Asians… probably stems from backgrounds that have to do with evolution and slavery (historically, when blacks were slaves the white race at one point even tried to breed the biggest, most muscular black guys with other big black people to thereby create a strand of “superslaves.”) I just find it insanely funny that now this plan has backfired on them and black guys have the best bodies on the face of the earth LOL

With the lame boyfriend on campus:

Well, I thought he was pretty lame. But then I asked him if I could fuck this one guy in particular–Nathan, the guy who used to shoot my CBT videos. you know that morphine magazine picture with that Asian girl on the cover? Guess who shot that picture?!?!!?!! Turns out, it’s the friend of the guy who shot my CBT video!!!! LMAO, “iiiiiit’s a small world aaaaafter aalllllll!”

He did say that girl looked a lot like me. But what’s funny is, the fact that Mis posted that picture compelling me to post that picture on this site is what brought him to me. LOL, the world works in a hilarious way sometimes.

He’s insanely hot too, looks like a classic hot punker. Perfect facial features. I was wondering: Why are YOU shooting my CBT video and not IN IT you bastard?!!!!?!?!!? But here’s where it gets juicy: apparently he’s propositioning me: “Sooo……  My girlfriend and I have been talking.  We are looking for a someone for me to play with while she goes out of town and does her crazy video shoots.  She leaves on average once a month, and I get bored sitting at home alone.  It wouldn’t be a polygamous situation, but more of a regular play-date friend for me.  Is that something you would be into?”
He’s going to let me fuck that hot-ass punker dude. but there is only one thing that’s bothering me and that’s sober sex. i probably won’t be able to last hours without an aphrodisiac boost! man, speaking of which, I bet I could use some crystal g to help me out of this sexual depression. well, maybe that’s not a good idea. a psychedelic amph like doc or t-12 could probably help me get through one night of rocking passion. I’m still not confident about doing it sober, especially with a semi-stranger. I mean what if I suck? what if I don’t have the stamina and get impotent and can’t last as long as he does? I’ll lose everything that I used to talk up about before!

You know, I found out pretty recently that just because a man SAYS he’s gay doesn’t mean he won’t sleep with a woman. Gays are by far, the most experimental crowd right up there with recreational drug users–and thank GOD for that!!!

My god, there’s something about being horny and surrounded by men 24/7 that really makes me want to fuck a black guy… anybody? anybody? well, looks like I’m hitting up compton for my next round. it’s times like these I thank god I’m not white. (watch, I’m going to get so badgered for this comment)

Nevertheless, I’ve come to realize that we should appreciate the gays and the media a little bit more instead of constantly criticizing them and taking them for granted, because they are one of the few scenes that actually tolerate drug use within their community. I mean as much as you guys might not want to admit it, a large portion of why marijuana has become even socially accepted in America (especially with the younger generations) largely has to do with what they have grown up with absorbing what is ingrained in prime time TV and movies.

And just the other night, while my dog was sleeping on my bed, I swear I felt her have an orgasm. I heard her panting, breathing heavily faster and faster, and then dead silence for 10 seconds and then a full minute of intense muscle spasms. It was either that or she was having a seizure I’ve never seen before.

Yeah. She most definitely IS my dog.

Good god, was that 4 tangents in the same post? Methinks I woke up on the good side of bed today.

Now some date pics

Out of all the kissers I’ve had, he’s somewhere in the top 2… number 1 is probably going to and always will be Canada.

A thugged out shirt I bought for him in Japan. Found him a large that he could fit in… I looooove tight shirts on guys!

I ordered baked rigatoni

My classic legwarmer look with his beads… (which btw, wtf, I’ve noticed that legwarmers have been coming back in style now… WTF, they used to be MY THING! I wore them for YEARS before malls started carrying them again…) You don’t understand, people… This ALWAYS, ALWAYS happens to me, every year with something. First with the baggy shirts on girls and then with the jackets tight around the waistline, and now the legwarmers. I fucking hate being a trendsetter…

Oh yeah, and check out my new bling:

It’s an authentic emerald diamond ring–don’t want to brag about how much it’s worth, but it costs somewhere in the tens of thousands. So I know what you’re all thinking… and no,don’t worry boys, it’s not exactly a wedding band.

Fucking A, there is nothing more that I hate when some skanky-ass bitch wants to come and fight me at the club just because she saw her man grinding up on me and giving out his number to me later. Like, “I didn’t even know yall were together! You know what, why the hell are you even giving ME the talk?!??! you should be talking to YOUR MAN, not ME.”

Anybody else feel this? Shit, I don’t hold any responsibility to keep their relationship glued together. Why the hell is it MY FAULT? And number 2, shit if you want to fight yea we can take this outside, but I’m not about to clash heads and fight over any MAN. They’re as dispensable as Kleenex to me.

Alright, this is a modified series of dreams I’ve had for the past two weeks every single fucking day that I’ve woken up from. Generally my dreams consist of a task I have to commit with an ultimate goal (such as finding the end of a map, or finding a lost mystical object like a flute), but for the last two weeks they have been very terrifying nightmares, ones that ended with me getting my face gnawed off or purely beaten to death–you know, it would have made for pretty decent horror movie type stuff.

Anyways, the only reason I’m posting this one because this is the first time that a dream like this has ended differently. I just woke up from it so I may not tell it as bone-chilling as it was for me, but with a little editing I’m sure I can turn it into an alright story.

It started out in the forests of Africa. Coming in the dream, I had already made my position in it as part of an all-female gang, of whom the ringleader had a favorite wild pet… her precious pet was a humongous, rabid, human-eating gorilla. I shared the same task with one other girl–and that was feeding this rabies-infested pet of hers. Eating rituals went like this–since the gorilla only ate humans, we were each given a clear bag of dead, bloody, rotten, and smelly human body parts that the other members of the gang had killed and rounded up for us. (Parts were usually like limbs, hands, “wings,” breasts, tasted kind of like chicken I’m sure.) I also don’t think it was of any coincidence that the ringleader of the gang just happened to be my first Guatemalan meth dealer, who was in a gang.

Now, actual eating rituals went like this…we would be led to the gorilla’s exact location by way of the ringleader. We would usually have to climb the trees and swoop or jump from branch to branch–this was of course, so that the gorilla wouldn’t spot us and eat us firsthand. I think it always knew just when meal-time was about to come though, because you could tell by its nostrils and gamey drool that it could sniff the bag of rotten body parts given to each of us. We would both get in our positions, and that was upon a tree within 5 feet of the gorilla. When the ringleader said, “GO!” we were to jump off the branch and into the woods (thereby immediately catching the gorilla’s attention),then instantly turn and run in the same direction as fast as we could while dropping random body parts from our bags, knowing that the gorilla was chasing us right on our hindsights, ravaging each part that we dropped in less than a second…

There was not any time to scream, no time to even look back… just drop and run for your life, only looking out the corner of your eye to see who was the faster–me or her.

It was also a sort of sport for them to watch, to see which one of us would make it out alive. How many repetitions they made us do, how many relays, how many events… I could count over 20 times I was forced to do this horrific act in a dream’s day alone… and we couldn’t say no, for if we were, it was encoded in the gang violations rules–if we dare defied the ringleader, we would be held down by the other gang members while the gorilla promptly ate us alive.

I was surprised to see myself holding up so well against this black girl who shared the body and the speed of a famous Jamaican Olympian runner. Because normally in these dreams, I am the first to faulter, I was the first to fall, I was always the first to be overwhelmed in slow-motion and be caught while “it,” (”it” being whatever animal it had manifested into my dream this time), tore me apart and destroyed me. And that was what had conclusively woken me up every other night for the past two weeks. But today was different–this night, I was keeping up as an equal. For some reason, I was kept alive.

Oh yes, there were times where it came SO CLOSE… and no matter how close it came to each of us, it seemed that neither of us was an inch faster than the other–but that was the pure thrill of adrenaline and climax!!! I remember one time, the gorilla was literally only a finger’s length away from us, there was no time for either of us left just chance, when just in the knack of time we ran through a school-yard, bustling with children playing. Its attention wandered and it feasted on the flesh of the school-children… and as we looked back, we paused… but only for a moment, then running again, relieved mostly of the fact that our lives had been guaranteed for one more night. We were immune to the sight of it eating humans, regardless of whether they were children’s parts–as long as the ringleader’s pet was fed, that was really all that mattered. “Whatever you do, don’t look back…”

Then our last day’s race was coming. Rumors were that my race partner had defied the ringleader, and it was chosen that she was to be eaten alive. The day had come, and I was–we were all–oddly waiting for her. She was never late. I began to get nervous, as the gorilla’s cries spoke of hunger. The ringleader got impatient, and kicked me in the hole of the forest… as I felt the gorilla sneak up on me, and its paw roll around against my neck and its breath against my face, my eyes sunk in… I felt so stupid for showing up… I should have been able to tell it was all a mistake of fate for me, when I KNEW this day would be my only chance of being able to get away, to run away for the very first time without being used as dead flesh-bait.

And as I waited for the moment, thinking that this was for sure my time of death, the time I would wake up… for some reason, JUST this time, for the very first time in my life in fact, just in the knick of time, a fucking miracle happened. She showed her ass up.

There she stood–it was like in a movie–and there she was, taunting the gorilla in the hopes of catching its attention away from me, but for some reason, she didn’t have human bodies with her this time. She was flinging dead rats behind her, and yet somehow the gorilla had still chosen to chase her. In fact, this was the only time its’
route opted to chase her completely instead of me… the gorilla had been trained instinctively to hunt down the perpetrator. It was karma’s will.

As I ran, I noticed that I didn’t see her out of the corner of my eye this time. Was she eaten? I don’t know… I didn’t look back. And I never stopped running. I realized just then, that she didn’t show up to get eaten. She showed up to save ME. The fact that she had rats instead of human body parts showed that this was a sign of her own will. Why? Because in the name of our lives being equally flung as meat for the beast, she had become my partner, she had become the equivalent of my life. And to save the one who had gone through everything you had and had done no wrong, well… it was the true meaning of honor.

That was my last day of being chased by the gorilla. And it was my first time making it out of a horror dream alive… as an equal.

Moral of the Story: All I think is that this dream is telling me is to stop running the fucking treadmill at the gym.

Wholly FUCK!!!! I was reading in the LA Times newspaper about how 3 teachers from the university–1 Japanese guy, 1 woman, and 1 white guy shared as winners of the NOBEL PRIZE in Chemistry.

Motherfucker…

I have without a doubt now that marine bio is THE BEST at that academy.