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Thursday, April 29, 2004

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

My writing teacher just showed up in my masurbation fantasy. Right. When. I. Came.

No no no no NO no no. Wrong. Wrong. Wash vagina out. Cover ears. Noooooooo!!

(btchtfrrrrrrrzap)

(test signal)

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I was just having some fun with the oncept of a bunch of bearded, middle aged mechanics peering over my naked body with jackknives (this time, I actually imagined their positions relative to my own; this gives a very intense 3-D glasses kinda feeling to your masturbation fantasy. Now with bump-mapping, Z-buffering, and blast processing. Order now at 1-800-LETICIAS-COME), when SUDDENLY, one of these bearded middle aged men became OUGOTHOUGSORGUooohgobs. No good. I'm'a get out of here before I drive myself insane.

I was just having some fun with my brand-new 3-D masturbation fantasy technique when ALL OF A SUDDEN, my writing teacher pops out of nowhere. What?! But first, you must understand the beauty of my masturbation technique. Usually, I dream and think in the third-person, so when I'm trapped in a suction chamber while being made into ice cream, I can see myself banging on the glass cylider and pleading for mercy. This time, though, I imagined their positions relative to my own; which gives you a VERY intense 3-D glasses kinda feeling, plus with mip-mapping and Z-buffering up the wazoo. Call now. Orders only 1-800-MEAT-GRIND

But I was imagining middle aged mechanics peering over my naked body with jackknives and saying with a grin, "Let's open 'er up." Yeah, I was nothing but raw meat to them, and I was proud of it. At least I'm... something...

Any middle-aged women with curly hair intent on becoming my personal savior after reading that somewhat disturbing remark need not apply. I figure I'm going to freak out and convert to Mormonism and live a life of sexual discontent any time now. Just keep reading my blog, and I'll keep writing it.

Oh, I have one last thing to establish; no E-mails telling me what I can and can't write. I've had (okay, very few) people saying I shouldn't write about politics or videogames or this or that and I want to say this on the record: KISS MY ASS. I am not your whore. As I stated at the beginning of this blog, the purpose of this for me is to practice my writing, and that means anything goes. If you were paying to read this, things might be different, but as it stands I'm a freebie and so I get to draw the lines. Fair enough?
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