someone asked me if i would be embarrassed in ten years
I answered no. Because it has been almost ten years, and I’m not embarrassed, anymore. I used to be a lot. Actually, it just goes in phases. Waning in and out. I’m sensitive, and cannot be tamed. Nor can I be classified into one emotion. Embarrassment builds character. So, its good to find humility through humiliation sometimes. It all means nothing. No one cares. They have their own problems.
this photo is beloved by all at JM Productions. And at my house too.
I think it’s funny. Hope everyone gets a laugh too. Or more. Please, enjoy. I look at this with love.
those times were so extraordinary. i can’t go back. so i just get to laugh and roll around on the floor. be gross the rest of my life and get grosser as i get older. and eat it so much that i need to be anorexic. but i can’t! i love eating it so much. the grossness of life is all i want to remember. put my head in the toilet and make me laugh forever. we will share it.
It really was early in the morning… and after. Hollywood comedians with impressive equipment (real microphones) ! Definitely worth the dangerous ambien-hangover driving. Cats Rule.
would it be different? or be the same, in a good way. I don't want to change.
What would happen if I wrote on this blog? Maybe the same as when I wear my ultra-sexy panties underneath clothes, without intentions of stripping down to get attention. That’s more like my life now. I just want to get naked and stay that way. But I have to put on clothing, for society and weather. I have to clothe up, and seek my attention from elsewhere. And for new reasons. I can’t live without it. So I have to get wise. My husband won’t let me act stupid, for my own good. Because he loves me, and I respect his wishes. I have to enrich my talents. God, that’s more work than I have done in 10 years.So, now I am a writer. As well as a goofball. And wife. And Excellent cock sucker, baker and vegan cook.
Will this blog be good if I weigh it down with words? I mean, some anorexic girls look better with an extra pile of meat on their skulls. But I’d rather just put a big wig or pile of extensions on beautiful, emaciated perfection. I love thin more than words can describe. My words will merely be the strands of which to frame the perfect skeleton. Fashion face needs unrealistic hair. And I would have loved to be a hairdresser, if I hadn’t chosen porn. Or nails. Or colonics. I love poop.