Possible Brain Damage? Why, it’s Better Than Sex!

Paperclip unraveled to make a point and halfway up my nose, this is when he actually comes and talks to me.

I’m hoping he thought I was just picking my nose, as that seems slightly less embarrassing than making myself sneeze with a paper clip.

For a second,  I thought of just jamming the whole thing up my nose, choosing a most likely painful death over the look he gave me.

I hate public benches. And frisbees. Frisbees are stupid. They’re as pointless as paper airplanes.  Guess who wanted me to play frisbee. :3

Stuck with the decision of say no, giggle, and seem like another one of those sluts who go to the park just to stare at basketball toned asses or to say yes so he could see how uncoordinated I actually am.

But I guess I scraped a little too hard, and my nose then decided to gush blood. And I learned that blood makes him sick.

Well.

Score one, for me.  I excused myself, he did as well, and then we had to do the awkward shuffle dance that ensues when people are trying to get away from each other.

The sun , and the burn of shame beat down on my back as I left the park.

WHY?

I can text him every day, and get one word responses until the ONE DAY HE WANTS TO FUCKING ACTUALLY TALK TO ME.

Anyway, I think I’ve messed up my sinuses or something, because my nose bleeds on and off every couple hours.

Prime reward for the week. The only good thing that happened was actually pretty fucking funny.

rolling on the ground, pissing myself with laughter, funny.

I left my ID in a purse that I threw away, because I’m fucking retarded, so I had to call Dog Fucker when I wanted smokes.

I picked him up, and while we were leaving the Kwick Mart, who is to pull up but two of his band mates, and his ever so loving fiance.

C:

the look on her face, equals priceless. but, being the Coward that I am, I flushed red as a fatty with rosacea and almost pissed myself.

I’m assuming I won’t hear from him for at least a week.

But, it was pretty funny.

That’s about it. I’m going to work now. I hope this weekend isn’t as uneventful as I think it will be.

and playing  Justin Bieber’s “Baby” on my iTouch is a sure fire way to get old people to leave me alone on my break at work.

The little faggot.

With Love, emmychen.

All Things Nice

Open Office Impress is a steaming pile of ass trash. Not only can it not format itself to Microsoft Word without write errors, it refuses to save over itself. I think I might just go Columbine.

(Because mass killings are just hilarious amirite I hate this so much….)

Sure. Power Points are going to make me go somewhere in life. Tell A slide to slide presentation on Sexual Archetypes and Gender Stereotypes is sure to entertain anyone who watches it. They definitely won’t decide to ignore it completely as texting your latest beau is not as exciting.

And it would be so much easier if that stretch marked laden Sea Hag hadn’t decided that saving isn’t necessary for something to be in a file. No, the fucking fairies of Gigliamesh will transport it to me in my most dire hour of need, safely and soundly. Of course. I forgot.

But I digress.

Why is our beautiful green Earth is laden and topplin gover (more like toblerone) with the obese, and to make matters worse obese CHILDREN? This is a new era, one where Health Foods are no longer bursting with transfats and carbs but due to some sort of pixie magic still taste good(Kashi Go-Lean Crunch am i right?)and the fact that most junk foods have started to lose all distinguishable flavor and are more of an empty filler that taste like false blueberry chemicals that stain our hands orange?

My point is, if you’re fat and you go to Subway, not everything on the menu is guaranteed to make you skinny minny. The Spicy Italian is GREASY and the fact that you add double Lite mayonaise does not make it healthier.

(For the record, double Lite is the same as regular regular. Duh.)

Also, do not get PISSED at me because you decided to order a double meat sub and still think that it should be 5 dollars.

It’s two sandwiches. Two. Not one. More than one. Get it?

One would assume it would cost more. Our 5 dollar foot long deal ended 3 months ago.

Yesterday, an black african american woman came through the drivethrough, and requested that her BLT flatbread better not be crispy, as she doesn’t like crispy bacon. I fulfilled this seemingly impossible task, and as the temperatures were in the 90′s it was expectedly busy, so I hurridly gave her the sandwich.

After a while, I started to hear this loud buzzing sound. I avoided it, as there was a line of 11 people inside and every single fucking one of those fuckers decided that they would buy enough subs for every person they’ve ever met and everyone in their extended family

Suddenly, I heard very ghetto loud yelling. Someone was screaming through the drivethrough window?! Who might it be?!

Perhaps there’s a fire outside the building and we all better evacuate for our lives? Hurridly, I went to the window to see the very same woman I had just given a sandwich to. Her sandwich wasn’t crispy enough.

Then I killed her.

No, but this is an every day thing. Has no one any manners? I am one of the hugest cunts you’ve ever met, and I would NEVER treat a person that way, especially one who is conjuring my precious food. (she was fat gelatinous, by the by)

I fucking hate people. More and more each day.

He’s called Dog Fucker because he wants to fuck a dog.

He used to put lotion on his dick so his dog would lick it off.

He shared this tidbit of information with me, because I guess for some reason he trusted me. (What?)

He wanted me to fornicate with my own dog. (WHAT?!)

and tried to get me to let his dog sniff around my area a bit. (WTF MAN?!?!?!!11oneoneon3)

[[[[I didn't, just so you know. I'm not that needy.]]]]

Who is attracted to such a freak?

He’s beautiful, angry, and musically talented.

Those kinds are always some sort of fucked up. And I love them.

With Love, emmychen.

Wishing death upon his brewing child turns him on even more.

It’s been almost a year. Actually, probably a year. I don’t really know. The point being, it’s been quite some time, and if I did know the exact time, that would make this worse than it already is.

A year since what, my dear emmychen?

Oh, since the biggest douche on the planet and I were (once thought) split apart forever. I hate him. He’s an asshole,  he’s a pretentious little twat, who can do nothing but spray women with his incompetent seed until one of them pops out a crotch dropping.

She’s eight months pregnant. He was gone from my life, or so we thought.

Oh we thought wrong of course, because him being the almighty makes it so all previous statements by him are invalid and of course in void.

We’re going to do you a little favor here, to set away any further confusion, and refer to HIM as Dog Fucker, reasons to be explained sooner or later.

Which brings me back to my opening statement. It’s been a year since we’ve been together. It’s been two days since he’s been in me. She’s 8 months pregnant. He’s engaged.

Woah woah woah, slow down with this math stuff partner.

Are you trying to say that you’re FORNICATING with one who’s about to be married, with a child on the way?

Yes, but that’s not how I wanted it to play out. My orignial plan was to forgo all of this anger and hostility that we had for each other and to become friends. You know, someone to drink with, play shitty computer games, sneak over to their house at 3:00 a.m. so they could fuck you.

Wait, that’s not right.

Oh, but it’s true.

It started again again again again again again again two weeks ago. Those “agains” are necessary due to the fact that we’ve had this cycle since two months after we’ve broken up. The cycle? We fuck until someone starts spreading the rumor that him and I are fucking.

Then we get into a giant fight until he misses my cock sucking prowess enough to crawl back to me.

And by crawl back, I mean use that pretentious “rock-star” quality to make me feel flawed and lonely, until I  crawl back to him.

I’m pathetic.

Regardless. He invites me over on the premise of “smoking hookah” but in reality it means “Park two streets away, walk through the wet grass, tear your good pants climbing a fence, so you can sneak in my house while almost breaking your neck coming down the stairs because I’m too good to turn a light on for you. Let’s sit downstairs in my cold ass basement and have playful banter while watching Unforgivable and Burnt Face Man until I decide I want to grab at your titties and unmentionable bits before I decide to stand with my cock out in front of your face.”

I’m sorry, too much for you?

Why do I keep coming back? Well, my vagina is quite lonely, and he’s a good fuck. Dog fucker has ruined all future relationships for me by being such a pretentious Hardcore guy, yet undesirable in the fact that I love to be abused emotionally. And have my heart broken again and again.

It’s funny how he thinks that shit is attractive. Dicks aren’t beautiful creatures, and having it flop out in my face, leaking pre-cum while spouting an erection that even God doesn’t know where it came from. As all we’ve been doing is watching a black man talk about his day on Youtube.

We do the deed, and immediately things get awkward. He’s sweaty, and gives me a look like he wants me to burn in hell, or get the fuck out of his house. I choose the latter, awkwardly, as I have this magical power to make everything around me awkward all the time.

Dog Fucker then proceeds to ignore me for a week, until I have to be up early in the morning, which he somehow senses, for this is when he asks me to “come over and smoke hookah” once more. Rinse. Repeat.

My life is great.

If I get any responses, which I doubt as this is probably the most retarded blog thing you have ever read, I will tell you why he’s called Dog Fucker.

With Love, emmychen.