Thursday, September 24, 2009
Christ. @ 8:37 AM
Nevermind.
Fuck Scientology. Or at least, me going to it for help.
They tried to get my brother to cut off all communication with me because I'm like, evil. A bad influence. Something ridiculous that makes me have half a mind to go down there and bitch someone out, just because it'll make me feel better to just yell at someone.
But I either have more class than that, or am a complete pussy. Or maybe I just don't want to cause a scene, even though deep down I really do. I just never will.
On a completely unrelated note, I'm hung over like a bitch. I also got informed I'm very close to being fired if I don't stop being a complete slut. Which aggravates me a little, because in Dallas, what I did made me one of the cleanest dancers. I think Atlanta needs more whores, they make me look better.
On another completely unrelated note, because I'm good at those, I've come to the conclusion that my complete and utter lack of a sex life makes it difficult for me to watch "The Ice Man Job." You have no idea how much Beth in that dress turns me on. So much in fact, that I feel like a complete pervert for staring, and you know, whatever else (and I know some of you are thinking I do the nasty to myself when I'm watching that, but that would be incorrect. I feel like it's rude. Also, when I meet her I would never be able to look her in the eye if I did ever do that), even though she's in my computer screen. I assume that's better than actually staring at her and getting turned on in person, in which case I would be completely embarrassed and feel even more like a dirty perv, so here's hoping that when I meet her she doesn't wear anything that shows off her fucking amazing hips.
Because she does have a blow-your-fucking-mind-way-open body. It's probably worse for me because I've seen her topless. And in sheer panties. And no, you cannot have the movie. Go look for it yourself.
You're going to have to excuse me, I woke up really horny, yet very hung over, this morning. I blame the sex dream I had last night. Oh good god. I'm sure most of you will guess who played a pivotal role, but I'll just deny it. I like to pretend I'm not completely, disastrously, perverted. It's called denial, I try to make camp there. I feel embarrassed about my perversion with this woman, don't ask me why. I'll perv out over everyone and their mother and not care. Her? I feel like I shouldn't, and yet it still happens. It's really not my fault. I'm only programmed that way.
Good god, I hope she doesn't read this.
You all might think I'm inflating my own self-importance, but she knows things about my past (apparently) that I've only revealed in here. So. Hence, Jesus Christ, she better not read this.
I have half a mind of delete this now. But if I do that then I'm just going to never write in here again, so I'm going to hope that she's only been here once, and then she ran away scared. Right now, I'd classify that as a good thing.
I'm just going to stop though, before this gets any worse.
Labels: Don't let me write blogs when I'm horny. Ever. Again.
