I got rid of the old blog because it detailed 3 years of addiction and frankly, I shudder even to think of it.
Nobody knows
at this very instant that this new blog exists. I shall whiz through all my regular reads and let them know, however. Then I can welcome back all the Cs and Ks -- very odd how many of my old blog-buddies have similar names -- if they deign to return and read.
Other than them, this will be so restricted, even my own mother won't be allowed to read it. She didn't like me even admitting I
have a mother, so how paranoid is that? Maybe from now on I'll call her The Stork. Even though she'll never read this.
Aaiit, so here' s the deal: I have no idea what this will be about, except I do carry on an awful lot of private conversations in my head, generally aimed at annoying strangers. I will not pull too many punches, although I will strive not to offend. I will allow myself to use bad words, because I do it in real life. I'm tired of censoring myself. I think a well-placed "fuck" when used for emphasis is really good.
Just remember: these are my thoughts, everyone has thoughts (I think), and therefore they will be here. I lost my first entry somewhere on my computer, but this will do for now.
Or maybe not...
They don’t get it until you spell it out
With a spike through the head. That men can really be so clueless is a slight shock to me, because I figured that after rejecting his advances – first gently, then violently pulling away – he’d get it, but no. I thought my body language was clear. I thought my continuous refusal to put out was clear. I thought that several years – years! – of just-friends was clear.
But no, it took a friend to tell him today that lattégirl is not romantically interested in him, now or ever. I hear he is crestfallen. Now he doesn’t see how we can be friends any longer.
How very Age Fourteen.
Now what am I going to do with the Christmas presents I got him? They’re all so nice, I’d like to keep them myself.
