Thursday, November 11, 2010

iCandtasticisty: Beyond the Blog Part 1


Let's get serious. Well. Serious for me. I just finished re-reading the last post by my fellow writer Stepkid. There was some real heart in it. Real. Heart. It activated my one feeling for the day. It was a nice sentimental feeling. Don't know what it's called and I really don't want to look at it any closer than I already have.

The whole reason we do this blog is to be the real us. The "us" that we actually do tone down for the general public. So to those people who say tone it down....I say this. If you don't like our stuff then why the fuck are you reading it? If you want any of the writers on this blog to tone it down than please. Kindly stop stealing my oxygen. I need it to light my cigarette, you worthless piece of excrement.

I will tell you something about me that is an absolute fact.

If I don't like you, you don't exist. You could be standing right in front of me waving a cashier's check in my name for 1 million dollars and I still wouldn't see you. I would see the check, but not you. It is not that I think that I am so awesome...aw I couldn't even write that one out. I am fucking awesome. It is just that life is too short to waste being fake.

What you see is what you get. Mebbe I have had short lived first dates. I would rather have a short lived first date than a long drawn out "relationship" that ends with the other person hog-tied in the trunk, with the bags of lime, and a shovel or at the very least drunxting you at 2 am after 5 months of nothing, and telling you how much they love you, and how sorry they are for leaving you for a trashy, bleached out, hill billy, cuntastic nurse from the ER. Fuck.You.

I wasted a good portion of my youth...mind you not that old..on caring what everyone else thought. Why.Why.WHY WHY WHY WHY. In the end did it matter? It absolutely did not. I truly do not care what you think of me. Because when I lay my head down at night I know who my real friends are and that they truly love me for me and accept me for me. THE REAL ME BITCHES.

I know that I am decent if not gorgeous. I know that I am passably intelligent. I know that I am funny. I am funny because I say the shit out loud that you think in the deep recesses of what passes for your brain or at least you feel on some primitive level. I have been told repeatedly that I am crazy. Why? Because I say what I mean and mean what I say? What kind of fucked up world do we live in where being honest is insanity? Well so be it. I would rather be this kind of crazy than your kind of sane.

So Stepkid, I like you and I like your writing. That is the reason I agreed to do this crazy little thing called a blog, but I call my love. I don't say that to many people, but you truly and really get me. I get you. Our real readers, they get us. They are the ones who are reading this and laughing, but saying hell yes! They also know that the fuck yous and insults do not apply to them, because...They. Get. It.

So fuck the rest of em. Fuck all those hating ass mutha fucking rapey monkey rednecks who just EXIST. Fuck. Them. Stand proud, my brother. Now puff puff pass and you don't get to read this before I post it.

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