I'm that dog you heard about
So the furry snake attached to my ass was at it again. thinks it can outsmart me. Well, I know better. It isn’t going to get away with this. Sooner or later I will catch it off guard and it will be sorry for taunting me like it has. I tried to catch it this morning: it was a hot pursuit. Bridget laughed at me. She didn’t even try to help me catch this infernal serpent. Bitch! I’m alone in this quest. Stay tuned for further developments. Wish me luck.
L.S.
So Bridget decided to go out without me on Saturday. Apparently she had a great day. In the woods. And at the beach. For fuck sakes. So when I found out that she was going to bless me with an opportunity to hang out with her on the beach, I considered telling her I would rather sodomize myself with a spiny lobster. Like I have nothing better to do than to sit at home, rearrange my porn collection, and wait for her to decide to take my leash down from the closet and effing use it (by the way, I came up with the BEST system: I organized it not by genre but by thickness of bush. It ended up being slightly chronological as a result, but I think it’s an inspired way to reach a quick selection so you don’t lose your wood).
So we were just about to go and lo and behold: there’s another dog coming with us. Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me? Some too-adorable-for-words dachshund. Like REALLY adorable. I couldn’t believe it. At this point I knew that I was going to have to spend a great deal of time embarrassing Bridget on this unfortunate day.
So on the way, while off leash as always, I decided to start slow. I chased a few skateboarders, made one of them jump off his stupid board and start squealing like a little suckling pig. That made me happy…but it didn’t seem to phase Bridget. She even defended my behavior, talking about how he shouldn’t be on the walking path anyway. Deflecting my abuse like an unwanted step-child who goes on to become mayor. Pisses me off.
So we got to the beach and the wiener dog decides to be impishly perfect. He’s swimming, he’s frolicking, he’s chasing Bridget into the surf, so help me; even I started to like him. It was time to put on the princess act. I began to pout. Like I have never pouted before. And then it came to me: the toxic revenge. This is something I employ when I really want to put a fly in Bridget’s silly little ointment: I obsessively drink sea water. Like gallons of it. It sounds silly and self-destructive but hey…look who raised me.
By the time the afternoon ended, my gut was distended like a life raft. I looked like Danny DeVito. This finally tore Bridget away from her new-found friend. She was worried. And although it felt like I was about to either give birth to a baby beluga or wretch my weight in sea life, I felt as though I had won a victory. Now here is the key for toxic revenge: timing. Cause I’m not so deeply revenge driven that I would consent to digesting this swill simply to prove a point, it is necessary to vomit it back up to avoid a painful plight. But this must be done accurately and in the right place to ensure maximum embarrassment. And if I do it right, Bridget also has to answer to the people who feel the need to say “y’know, he wouldn’t get sick if you didn’t let him drink the sea water like that”. Like Bridget has the power to “let” me or “stop” me. Imbeciles.
So on this day I decide to go to the softest, sandiest place on the beach, in the direct eye line of the sun worshippers, and lay out my first projectile item. It was a sizable pool of yellow mess. Came out of me like a geyser. Not gonna lie, I was mildly disgusted with myself but hey, revenge is an art and if you aren’t willing to go to sinking depths as well as lofty heights for your art, than you are merely a hack trying to avoid real work. This first explosion garnered much positive feedback from the beach. Yucky sounds everywhere. Bridget had to jump up from her towel and cover it with sand. That felt good. Real good.
As you can imagine, this expedited our departure from the beach for the day. We began our walk home. This enabled me to regale a whole new audience with my Linda Blair impersonation. I decided to up the ante and scream “your mother sucks cocks in hell” the next time I did it. I’ll tell ya’, movies may have gotten harsher in recent days, but the “mother sucks cocks in hell” line still stings. Especially avec purging stomach acid. So I did it, right in front of a bench full of old people. One woman commented on how harsh I am. Bridget joked that I was possessed by a demon, little did they know that is essentially true; a demon named Amazing.
I stopped again in front of a group of hipsters who were striking ironic poses and pretending to like playing Connect Four at the beach. I opened my mouth and let the vomit fly. I looked like a college girl on pledge week. That’s what I think of your intentional kitsch, you scene-hungry doofuses. I felt good about that one, like it was for both Bridget and I. See how many birds you can hit with the toxic revenge stone? Plenty I say. Plenty.
By the time we got almost home, I was running on empty. I had spilled my contents a record 5 times and felt pretty good about how much I had set the stage for embarrassment that day. I had made Bridget look like the chaperone of the black plague. And nobody likes those guys. But my throat hurt and I was ready for a nap. I made it home a little worse for wear but I think I made my point. When it comes to getting heard as a dog, all you can really do is things you’re not supposed to. I can’t write a letter of complaint, I can’t have a nice argument about it, I can’t let the air out of your tires, but I sure can shit in your shoe and puke on your lawn and hump your poodle till it cries. That’s what I got. That’s ALL I got. I could wallow about it or I could wield it like an iron fist. I choose the latter. Life is about swingin’ the dick you were given, folks. Regardless of size.
Dig.
Due to recent times, I was in the market for music that didn’t remind me of anything. Since I have been listening to the Stones a lot lately, I put them in again the other day. I have never really gotten into the stones, liked their music but never really saw why people thought they were such geniuses. That all changed one very important day last weekend.
Bridget was out without me on Saturday so I was getting high and digging through her iTunes. I was listening to Wild Horses. I was being drawn in by something and I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Something about that song was intriguing me and it wasn’t just the lyrics. I listened to it on repeat four times before putting the rest of her small Stones collection on shuffle. The next song to come on was “Sympathy for the Devil”; a song I have heard hundreds of times and have always referred to as my favorite Stones song.
Now I don’t know if it was the weed, the heightened nerves because of being left behind today, the summer air which was thick with oxygen, or just my desire to listen to something else as intently as I had been listening to my own ego for so long, but something clicked inside my head and I got it. Right there on the shag rug, I got the Stones. REALLY got them. At long last.
There has been a long-standing comparison between the Beatles and the Stones ever since the two of them spearheaded the American fascination with the British invasion of the sixties. Though there were bands before them, bands during their reign, and bands after, no one has defined that time as clearly as the Beatles and the Stones. And no one has held on to the loyalty of the rock music fans worldwide like them either. Naturally, the community is divided into Stones people and Beatles people. Black or white? Vanilla or chocolate? Beatles or Stones? You can tell a lot by people’s responses to these questions.
At first I believed there was no contest in this debate. Beatles. Hands down. Why are we even talking about this? I wondered why they were even being compared. But as I listened to Sympathy that day, I started to see how they were representing a group of fans who may not have been catered to by the Beatles. A group who wanted their truth with the crusts on. Because as much as I love the Beatles, especially their edgy later work, they never really took that extra step over the edge. They never dared to go anywhere where they might end up covered in garbage and scars. And that is where the Stones take their holidays.
It is unavoidable for me not to start the explanation for this with Mick Jagger himself. I have always been VERY keen on front men, especially front men whose voices have a soul unto themselves, one that makes them completely distinguishable. Robert Plant, Thom Yorke, Trent Reznor, Billy Corgan, and Freddie Mercury are just a few examples in my favorites list. And Mick Jagger may just be their king. If only because he has managed to lead his band for several decades without losing the authenticity in his swagger.
Mick Jagger is like a person who has volunteered to be a conduit for all the sinful thoughts and feelings anyone could ever have. Like he gave his body and soul for that exact kind of exploration: what we are afraid of indulging, he indulges for us. And his voice bears the fruit of that dance with the devil. As a result, I believe what he says; because there is absolutely NO doubt that he has been there.
His on stage performance shows this as well. He moves like a man who is not hindered by the same stalls and hiccups that stunt the fluid movements of most of us. The muscles in his body are completely free from pretense, uncertainty, or fear. It is actually glorious to watch. And like all good front men, his body is his instrument and the vocals come out of it from the toes.
Then there is the rest of the band of ghouls. Keith Richards’s rhythm guitars are fantastically deranged. And not in a forced way like in bands who are trying to be that way (take your pick of the shitheads with emo hairdos out there right now). Richards doesn’t just play the guitar, he fondles it, and the sound it produces as a result just reeks of an abandon that few people have felt.
I will bet you Keith Richards has humped his instrument to climax on more than one hopped up occasion. That is something George Harrison wouldn’t be caught dead doing. In fact, I bet George Harrison never even humped his wife to climax…god rest his soul. Now let me just say that I jest but mean no real disrespect. My love for the Beatles needs no defense, but George was a true musician. He loved technique and the expansion of knowledge in the world of strings. He was amazing. But I will bet he never fondled his guitar. Not once. Too much loss of control in such an action. Too much of a flying leap. Much like fondling a woman….or sticking a chocolate bar up her private parts.
As far as the music goes, however, it is the bass that really gets me. Especially in the early stuff, which is admittedly the stuff I am primarily into at this early stage of my Stones education. I was particularly struck by the bass in Paint It Black. It is completely filthy. It sounds like what the inside of an erect penis would sound like. It’s quite delectable. And hard to ignore or toss aside…much like an erect penis.
The bass is stellar and gritty like that in all their old stuff. I hate to keep getting metaphorical, but I am coming to terms with the fact that it is how I speak, write, and think so…way it goes. And you are going to come to terms with it too because you love me too much not to. Anyway, to me, the Stones and the Beatles are like the devil and angel on everyone’s shoulders. The Beatles are telling you that all you need is love, and the Stones are telling you how good the Brown Sugar tastes.
An example: Both bands tackled the plight of the “modern” housewife of the 60s. The Beatles with Paul McCartney’s zippy number called Lady Madonna, and the Stones with the dark and folksy Mother’s Little Helper. Both songs document the life of a woman struggling with life as a domestic entity, but the Stones take it to a place of dark desperation. A comparison:
“Lady Madonna, baby at your breast
Wonders how you manage to feed the rest
Pa pa pa pa…
See how they run
Lady Madonna lying on the bed
Listen to the music playing in your head
Tuesday afternoon is never ending
Wednesday morning papers didn’t come
Thursday night you stocking needed mending
See how they run
Lady Madonna, children at your feet
Wonder how you manage to make ends meet”
And then the Stones take a stab at it:
“Kids are different today”
I hear ev’ry mother say
Mother needs something today to calm her down
And though she’s not really ill
There’s a little yellow pill
She goes running for the shelter of a mother’s little helper
And it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day
Doctor please, some more of these
Outside the door, she took four more
What a drag it is getting old”
Notice that both songs compare the life of the underappreciated housewife and mother. Lady Madonna is a portrait of a woman in a slightly lonely and stressful situation. It touches on the ideas and hopes and worries that may be in her head but stops short of delving into them with a line of “pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa paaaaa”s.
Mother’s Little Helper shows a very different story; the daily desperation and uncertainty in a very similar woman’s life. It leaves you with a very different feeling: discomfort. And discomfort is something the Beatles never really inflicted on their audience (with the exception of Revolution 9, of course). Even the music of it; strange sitar-like lead guitars and vocals that sound almost as doped up and weary as the lead character in the song. The frantic stress involved with having to be a wife and a mother and a sex symbol and a mediator and a housekeeper and a shrink and a chef and a woman all at once is something I am sure even the best and most satisfied mothers and wives have felt, yet no one really looks into it with the abrupt seediness that the Stones do with this song. It is usually caricaturized into some over the top comedy show, like with the sociopathic Muppets that make up the cast of Desperate Housewives. I am sure there are many women in this situation who wish they could take a pill that would alleviate the stress, exhaustion, and even regret.
I think it’s sexy as hell that the Stones looked into this. They showed us a wife and mother who was imperfect, scabby, and human. Just like the members of the band itself.
It took a long time for me to see it, but now I realize the Stones are the real deal. In every sense of that phrase. They tell it like it is, with a presentation that is anything but polished. But I like those scraggy edges, it make it seem more real. And make no mistake, just because it ain’t polished doesn’t mean this band doesn’t know what they are doing, both musically and otherwise. Unpolished, but not sloppy. Just the way I like my truth.
The Beatles were sublime and I will always view them as the best and most important band in music history as well as my life. But the Stones give me a place to be real. I feel like they represent a place where it is possible for me to be imperfect, dirty, angry, horny, unafraid, and unclean; something the Beatles achieved more during their solo career when they were free to pick at their wounds.
I believe this is why the Stones continue to peacock walk across stages; hearts still ticking despite abuse, wild living, and time. There is something to be said about honesty that is not coated in sugar….even though brown sugar tastes so good.
1. what are three ways to win your heart?
Have a beard, bring Vex, be inanimate
2. do you like lightning?
Do I like what now?
3. have you ever cut someone else’s hair?
Bridget has this friend with a goatee that I’ve trimmed with my teeth. Aside from that, no…..but I have had epic daydreams about chopping mom’s hipster hairdo off as retaliation for her “at home” butcher jobs that she does on my coat AND my ear. One day…..
4. last person you said i hate you to?
Montel Williams
5. rain or sunshine?
Sunshine. Rain pisses me right the fuck off.
6. last stupid thing you said to anyone?
Sure mom, you can cut my hair.
7. biggest turn off?
Chicks
8. fave movie?
Dark Knight. NO question.
9. would you date someone who smokes?
Sure! they have stronger lips.
10. would you date someone who was addicted to drugs?
depends on the drug. Coke, yes. Meth, no. Ecstasy, yes. Weed, no. Alcohol, yes. Heroin, no. I have lots of rules.
11. whats your biggest turn on, physically?
Large penis
12. would you have sex with someone you weren’t dating?
I don’t date, so yes.
13. have you ever missed someone and regretted breaking up with them?
um….no way. Regret is for Catholics and women.
14. have you ever dated someone more than once?
nope
15. if you could go on ONE DATE with any celebrity, who would it be?
John Fucking Stamos.
16. what’s your relationship status?
Swinging single.
17. do you like cuddling?
oh god yes. Bridget’s scalp job robs me of my natural insulation. Fucking ignorant bitch.
18. do you hold grudges?
You bet your scheming ass I do!
19. do you regret dating anyone?
I don’t date. Dating is for sissies.
20. hugger or kisser?
both. But I only kiss with tongue, so be ready.
21. missing someone?
yes
22. most important lesson you’ve learned from your exes?
I am amazingly hard to let go of with grace.
23. are you happier single or in a relationship?
I am a ramblin man. Way it goes.
24. how important are looks?
Pretty damned important. If I look down and see Steve Buscemi, I go limp. I’d like to say that wasn’t the case….but I don’t like lying….that was I lie; I love lying.
25. would you rather date someone who was SUPER-HOT or someone who was nice?
Why can’t I have both?
26. do you stay friends w/ the people you’ve dated?
I don’t date….this is getting boring.
27. would you fight over someone you wanted to be with?
I would only fight for Stamos. Aside from that, NOT worth the effort. If they aren’t willing to fight for me, they can take a flying leap
28. do you kiss on the 1st date?
I kiss on the first meeting
29. if someone cheated on you, would you take them back if you really loved them?
FUCK NOOOOOOO! If you fuck around on me, I will cut you off faster than foreskin at a bris.
30. some random girl comes up to you and says who the hell are you? What do you say back?
more than you can handle, Lindsay.
31. are you spoiled?
Yes. And rightly so.
32. name three things you would not tolerate in a relationship?
drama, frigidity, and commitment
33. which one of your friends do you think would make a good prostitute?
Bridget. She has a sickening desire to please, staggering debt, and nothing better to do
34. did you miss anyone today?
these duplicate questions are fucking annoying
35. last person to see you cry?
I don’t cry. Even when mom cut part of my ear off, all I did was flinch and start quoting Eastwood
36. Who/what made you cry?
nothing…..well…..except the end of Return of the King….but c’mon! That hearty little hobbit earned my tears!
37. are you a forgiving person?
er…..not really
38. would you ever share a girl/boyfriend with your best friend?
not without severe sabotage
39. i’ve come to realize the last person who gave me a hug..? was my mom….and she REALLY needed it
40. are most of your friends guys or girls? i like the boys…..but I am stuck with girls
41. how long does it take you to get ready to go out ? as long as it takes Bridget “all thumbs” to put on my harness.
42. how many people do you know of named Adam ? none
43. are any of your friends cheerleaders ? no. after I kicked their ass for being a cock tease, they didn’t want to be my friend anymore.
44. what was the last thing you burnt ? mom doesn’t let me play with fire. She says she owes it to the universe.
45. what is your full name?
Lennon Squiggy
46 what color is the bra you have on now ?
This is funny because this quiz is obviously geared towardes women because only chicks like to talk about themselves this much. Well I am here to stand up for the gay boys who like to also! Ra ra!….And my bra is green.
47. do you straighten your hair every day? yawn
48. do you worry about the size of your boobs? no.but sometimes I worry that the size of my cock will make the men around me feel like munchkins
49. are you the typical girl who’s addicted to gossip? Fuck yes…..between you and me, I think Russell Brand is gonna leave Katy in the next month. Remember who said it.
50. what are your favorite girly magazines? Playgirl
51. did you ever spend all day/night getting pretty for a guy? I don’t need to. Nature made me party ready.
52. did you ever cry during a romantic movie? fuck no. that shit is manipulative pap.
53. would you leave the house without makeup on? of course. why mess with a masterpiece?
54. whats the biggest turn on about guys? penis
55. are you a girly-girl, tomboy, or in the middle? mostly, I am a brawler. But I do love a nice pink hoodie and some quality anal sex.
56. is pink truly the best color in the entire universe? Without a doubt. It brings out my moxie.
57. whats the most expensive piece of clothing you own? $90 faux fur lined winter jacket. I make that shit look goooood.
58. what color do you absolutely despise? brown. If it comes out of my ass, it ain’t pretty.
59. have you ever stole? a few hearts
60. have you set your hair on fire? no
61. do you wear sweat pants? no pants. don’t want to pack up the goods.
62. do you know anyone who has lost their virginity? pretty much everyone I know
63. have you ever ran into a door because you didn’t see it? ……yes. And a table…..a few times.
64. doesn’t 50 Cent suck? that guy is SUCH a closet case. Remember who said it.
65. do you like hugs and kisses? LAAAAAME. Stop asking the same questions. Not all of us are MTV junkies with a 10 second attention span.
66. do you act gangster? only when bitches owe me money.
67. ever made a prank phone call? a prank what call?
68. last kiss? five minutes ago
69. what bill do you hate paying most? what the who now?
70. where was the last place you had a romantic dinner? the kitchen
71. what did you want to be when you were growing up? Batman
72. favorite thing to do at night with a guy? fellacio
73. when did you first start feeling older? when my chin hair started to turn a distinguished grey
74. favorite guilty pleasure? masturbation…..although I don’t feel too guilty about it
75. what celeb would you wanna have dinner with? Nicole Richie…..more for me.
76. what famous person would you like to date? From now on, I am going to respond to all duplicate questions with white noise……fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
78. what do you hate about your school? NO school. Ever.
79. last person whose bed you laid in besides your own? Grandma’s. It is like a castle of marshmallows.
80. have you lost a friend recently? Kinda
81. ever have a sleepover with the opposite sex? every goddamn night. stupid blanket-hog Bridget
82. do you use smiley faces on the computer a lot? meh
83. is it easier to forgive, or to forget? neither.
84. do you give out second chances too easily? nope. One strike, you’re out.
85. is your best friend pretty? In an off beat kinda way
86. is it awkward when you run into your exes? no exes
87. have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle? yep
88. can you make yourself cry? no. and you can’t either
89. is your life simple or complicated? both. figure THAT out.
90. are you easily confused? not at all. I know EVERYTHING
92. are you taller than 5’4? in my mind
93. have you ever liked someone who treated you like crap? Fuck no. Screw them.
94. is your current hair color mostly your natural hair color? yep. black as Bridget’s soul
95. does everything really happen for a reason? Yes it does. And that reason is me.
So we all know I have a legitimately distrustful relationship with and opinion of my mother. This way of thinking has been cultivated over 5 years of folly that I have had a ringside seat for. Like watching a clown engulfed in flames fall face first into a buffet table at a funeral. There’s just nothing ok about it. But every now and then, you have a moment that makes you realize that the nits you’ve been picking amount to nothing in the grand scheme of things that is love.
Last night she took me to our favorite beach. Let me go off leash almost the whole way there. Let me bother people the whole time I was there. Everyone at that beach knows my name and I know this is because Bridget allows me to explore and get known; on a whole, she trusts me. And aside from the few times I caught her sun-tanning, but for the most part she was on me like stink on shit when the freedom started to turn me into Joe Pesci. Why? Because she doesn’t want to lose me. Humans are terrified of loss and it makes them better AND worse at intimacy. It’s a double-edged sword of irony because fear ultimately destroys intimacy. But somehow this makes her endearing and doesn’t become the death rattle of our union. I give full credit to the species barrier for this.
On the walk home, I always like to gaze at Bridget. She is always at her best after some serious relaxation on that beach. I get the feeling that Bridget has had a real tough time finding a place she could feel at home. I really think since we moved downtown, she has found it. When we walk home from the beach, she has a certain swagger. A loose and happy gate that is easy and fun to keep up with. I look up at her face, surrounded by blue skies and framed by maniacal lime green sunglasses, and look to her for the gloriously sideways yet warm conversation I can only get from her. She talks to me like I’m a little human being. I really love that.
There were these baseball capped hoodlums who actually started making wussy sounds as we passed. I assume it was because they had witnessed Bridget and I enjoying a direct eye contact conversation as we walked towards them for nearly half a kilometre. Why is that cute? Shouldn’t that be the norm? I imagine if they were privy to the 3 hour existential operettas we share every night, they would sound like the studio audience of a taping of Full House. When you call it adorable, you patronize the idea of it until people believe it childish to be a part of. And that be your main fallacy, folks. Every time you make connection or love seem quaint, every time you call an elderly person’s spirit “cute”, every time you infantilize vulnerability, you are promoting a future of insensitive existence and the cultivation of an unsettlingly unsympathetic generation.
I’m just gonna keep on walkin’ and talkin’ with my crazy life mate. It’s a great way to stroll. You guys should try it….but find your own Bridget, k?
So if you’re Canadian and paying attention, apparently there is this politician names Jack Layton who passed away a couple days ago. He had Cancer. Bridget doesn’t have cable and employs willful ignorance when it comes to the news and politics so I had to find this out on the internet yesterday. Now I don’t know what his politics were and I don’t know what his death will mean to the country and all that, but I do know that as far as I am concerned, the issue we need to look at here is CANCER. I wrote a little something about this a while ago and I think it still applies. Behold:
So apparently there is this thing called “Cancer”. I usually consider myself quite savvy on the ways of the world, but I will admit that when there are things that seemingly don’t affect me, I tend to care less about them. And I was under the assumption that Cancer was a human thing, some kind of punishment for being weak-minded termites devouring the planet until only a shell remains. But I found out that it can attack the canine body too. For god’s sake, why aren’t you people doing something about this??
I looked into how you people are spending your money and I gotta say, you should have your head examined. I fully believe I would beat Cancer if I got it, but I would rather not have to. So lets get serious about this shit, fuckers.
In the last year the Americans have spent $35 Billion on “Homeland Security”. And it sure looks like its helping. People are shooting each other down there. Pretty safe place you bought yourself for a king’s ransom there…but hey, at least afghanistan is burning. I got your homeland security right here in my pants. Free of charge in exchange for you getting serious about keeping dogs – ok AND people – healthy.
Last year, billions were spent advertizing cosmetics. I can save you that money too: wake up, look in the mirror before your shower. Sold.
Apparently the cast members of Jersey Shore can pull in $10,000 for a club appearance. This is preposterous. Just tell them there are free tacos and Mardi Gras beads. They’ll come a runnin’.
$10 million contract for Michael Vick? You people wipe your ass with not only money but with the difference between right and wrong. I hope that fucker gets mauled by a dog before he sees another dime.
Seriously, you have no idea how frustrating it is to be four on the floor and powerless against what gets done around me. All I know is everyone has been touched by the big C in one way or another…some in many ways. Why not find a cure first before we allow Snookie to buy more Ed Hardy while American Troops lose limbs and dog killers buy Bentleys. You call me an undignified beast….you call me “just an animal”. I find that laughable.
L.S.
So this is my blog. I am a little tired of having mom be my only link to the outside world…because let’s face it, the woman is a complete charity case. So I am taking matters into my own hands and this is the first step.
For those of you who are unaware, I have been travelling the world as a co-pilot on my mom’s kamikaze voyage of death. This is a woman who has no idea what she wants to do or where she wants to do it and frankly, it gets a little harrowing. The one thing it DOES do is give me some insight into the world and how it treats the uncertain. She drives me BONKERS but I can’t blame her for being a little crazy; society is a gong show. Glad I am a dog. My sympathy doesn’t keep me from calling her Bridget Jones though.
I love hard rock music and Batman and pointing out the obvious flaws in the world and your way of looking at. You will be in awe of my astuteness and wit. Trust me. You will.
Also, I am gay. Just wanna put it out there. Deal with it, it’s how I was born. And I am TOTALLY ok with it. Guys are awesome. I seriously don’t know how straight guys deal with chicks, man. It’s like people who own Yorkies….fucking full time job.
On a whole, this is a forum for people to learn the truth about the world from someone who is not forced to live in it the same way that you are. I’m viewing it from a seat twelve inches off the ground….QUITE the view, lemme tell ya.
So yeah, that’s me in a nutshell. But I will think of more. So check back and I will regale you with my thoughts and feelings. You will never be the same. That be a promise.
Peace out, bitches.
L.S.
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