Oh dear.

>> Stop now. <<

Yeah, no shit. What was that about determination not to let things spiral out of control?

Thank you for the info, Hypno, once again.

But about the Xanax. It keeps the drinking under control.

And if it doesn't, then you're not taking it at the right time. You're not taking it at the right time! You HAVE to figure out when that time is! Damnit, you HAVE to figure out the right time! Figure it out, damnit! There's got to be a righter time, you idiot!

I lived next to that bottle for a long time, my love. I didn't touch it. I HID it, and Dad noticed this. I knew where I put it, and maybe, on a few occasions, I looked for it, when I was supposed to be watering the plants. It is gone. I know my Dad, and I know that he threw it out. Because he has no need for that shit, not because he was protecting me. I KNOW it's gone, but that doesn't mean that I haven't looked for it, maybe like three or four times.

But here's what I want to talk about.

Maybe the other night was a great one- it was- and maybe the next morning was a great one. And maybe the afternoon was kinda cool too. And maybe I briefly met a "famous" rock star. At 3 pm. And his fame wasn't known to me. I don't remember the name of the band, and I am glad of this. I will not find it out, and I will NEVER hear any of its music; I don't care HOW much it was hyped to me. And maybe I can't help but know the name of your HUGE headliner act. I know it. Who doesn't. And maybe I have heard its music. How could I not. And maybe it sucked. And maybe it didn't. But I'll never really know, because I will never hear it again. I refuse.

And maybe, you punk motherfucker, you made a comment about me, and it got back to me, in a lapse of someone's understanding of how senstive I might be. And maybe you said that I looked like a crack whore. Fuck you, you fuckwad motherfucker. If you had said I was ACTING like a crack whore, I could understand, because maybe I sometimes need to play that role. But I was not acting like a crack whore, because I didn't need to at the time. I LOOKED like a crack whore?

Fuck you. You get to be my age, and you're still goin' at it 30 hours at a stretch- you might not look your best. YOU can do it, you punkass motherfucker, but I guess I can't. Fuck you. Fuck you.

If I could will ill things upon anyone but myself, I would do so. And even if I can't, I am still gonna wish the ILLEST will upon you. I hate you. I am the first to talk shit about ANYONE, but honestly, I do not, at this time, really hate anyone. I hate you. I hate you. I could find out your last name, and your band's name, but I won't dignify this shit. Steve. I hate you. How dare you, you punkass motherfucker.

I'd wish death to you, but that doesn't seem like a bad deal to me, to be too honest.

Fuck him.

Were my feelings hurt? What do you think?

I post this because...hey, an almost semi-famous person said it! That's interesting! And because, by posting this, it becomes a joke to me. Ha! Me! I went to private schools my entire life. I am internationally travelled. Have YOU been to Timbuktu? I was VERY good at Dressage! Took me many months of practice with a fuckin' BRUTAL instructor. Sharon! Like I could ever not remember her name! I got good VERY VERY good at Dressage! You know what that takes? If you don't even know what this IS, then you, wisely, don't truly understand the ultimate in equestrian elitism!

I look(ed) like a crack whore? FUCK YOU! You fuckin' punkass motherfucker.

Today I went to school, fairly dazed. Not enough time to put together an outfit. But I did.

And you know what I got from that? "Oh, look at Miss M! Check her out! She looks so cute! You look like a high school student!"

First of all, I do not have the wherewithal to dress like a high school student. I wouldn't know how to do this. Because I don't have the clothes, I don't have the style, and like I said, I don't notice enough to know how to do this.

All I did was put on a hot pink skirt and put my hair into a hot pinked pony-tail scruncci (sp?)

The last thing I was trying to look like was a cute high school student. I was just trying to get through the day. But the students noticed, the male faculty commented, and you know what?

Good for them.

I look like a crack whore? I don't think so. Fuck you. You are the only person in the world that I truly hate now. I mean, I really hate you. That's a very intense feeling to have. I might come across as some kind of misanthropist, and maybe I am, but I don't actually hate anyone. Except for this punkass motherfucker.

I mean, I hate you.

Nonetheless, the point is taken. What ELSE am I gonna do with it?

I know! Post it! Put it up for a laugh.

And in doing that you can distance yourself from it.

I'm thinking about going a meeting, by the way. On the Main Line, where few will know me, and where crack whores don't fit in. It's an elitist kind of place, and that's where I'm going.

I still hate him. And the messenger was wrong to tell me. But I also know that he was trying to defend me, and he always thought I was hot. But he was like, "Yeah, maybe, but we looked GOOD 24 hours ago." The difference is that he looked much the same, and so did the dickhead, but I got 10 years on them. That is the difference.

I feel better now. I hate what's his name no less, but I love you guys that much more:)