Boxing My Past and Packing it Away

I know that you've wipe me off like yesterday's shit stain on your white cotton panties the very day I left… But I got something to tell you, today is the day where I removed the last of our scab; the final piece of fitting where we used to talk on, sleep on, fornicate on; a place where we sow our memories, affection, secretion on; now it's but a place of dirt.


Over the year, our relationship was more like what Moses is to the Red Sea; every time I came near you, your legs seem to part. You know what, if telling lies was a key; I think we both have used this key one too many times to unlock almost every bodily pleasure we can fucking get from each other.


I've been boxing up everything and anything that smells like you. The things that reminded me of you are nicely wrapped in yesterday's news, sealed so tightly that not even a tiny whisper or a faint odor of our sins could ever escape.


This isn't what it looks like...

but yes I'm throwing it all away. I'm purging myself of you I am cleansing you from my very soul; I'm casting out the you in me, and hopefully before I fucking die, there's not a single trace of you slithering inside my fucking veins.


You are my fucking past and I'm...




But today I’ve learn that throwing away the mattress that we used to commit our sins upon ain’t enough to kill you. The cock stain on the underwear may be gone but the stench still remains; yes the crust-like surface may seem healed but beneath this scab the pain still fucking lingers.

You're Killing Me

Seriously, I am not sure what you’s people are thinking? What the fuck do you want from me? You say you wanted my honesty and sincerity and that you will not judge me; yet after bearing a chunk of my soul to you, all I can feel now is you distance all over me.

Your fucking silence is killing me.

This is worst than being cheated on and far gross than being raped upon. Not that I have been raped but then again if rape involves sex, just how bad can it be? So if you are being rape, why not just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Anyway, back to the rant.

I am motherfucking furious; I am a furious motherfucker. After all I have done and have not done, this is how you thank me? By your non reply and avoidance?

I can’t believe that you would pre-judge me, put a tag on me, nutshell me even before I did anything to you. Talk about you hating superficial person. Yeah right…

So where did I really gone wrong? I didn’t even try to sweet talk you to bed, I didn’t even ask you to show me them boobies on the cam. The only mistake that I did was telling you what I was like on the inside and you have chosen to tie this fucking noose around my neck.

Do you know how hard it is for me to admit that I like hitting women? Did you know how hard it is for me to confess that I take pleasure in inflicting pain to the weaker sex. The thrill of beating their cake–up faces into a bloody pulp just thrills me; the rush of watching their fake ass eyelashes fly off their faces as my fist crushes their faces; their screams of agony is just like Beethoven’s symphony to my ears. Why can’t you see that I am not just some sex crave pervert who wants to hook up with girls to have sex. If I wanted sex, I’ll see a hooker.

P.s. You should have just told me that you’re not comfortable with me asking for your used maxi-pads, I would have settled for your nail clippings instead.

P.s.s. It’s not like you keep them anyway.

I am Shiva, The Great Destroyer

The last thing I remembered was the fucking irritating sound of that damn kid screaming from the top of his fucking lungs.


Everything went blank and the next thing I know, I've pinned the kid against the wall with my hand choking him down. I don't know what the fuck was going on but I felt that I was biting my teeth and my other hand was in the form of the fist. It was fucking obvious that I wasn't going to pet him.


The thought of hurting another living soul has never crossed my fucking mind; well, except for this one time where I wanted to rearrange my dad's pastor's front teeth for talking too much trash... and maybe a couple of times when I fantasized about biting off a slut's nipple while having sex... and this one time I thought about crucifying my biology teacher upside-down to a tree, cut her up a little and then pee on her wound. Besides that I'm really a non- violent person. And…ermmmm... the wild thought of chewing a chunk of meat off a hot girls' ass doesn't count right?


When I realized what I was doing, I quickly let go of my choke hold. I didn't know what has gotten into me. Anger suddenly took over me, it turned me into one bad motherfucker, and in the words of Jules Winnfield, I was a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker, every time that fucking kid opens his mouth I'm super-fly T.N.T. Right about now, I can proudly say this:

Later that day, my heart was filled with remorse but my remorse was that what I haven't done to that damned kid. I know its fucking wrong but there's a certain rush that excites me every time I think about what could have happened. The notion of striking fear into heart of the weak arouses my every sense; the thought of inflicting pain on that damn kid ignite my inner flame. That very moment all I wanted was to be Lord Shiva the great destroyer!


It's no secret that I am losing my mind. Violent thoughts is somewhat fun but actually translating my madness into reality is actually a beautiful rush.


I guess its happening sooner than I anticipated; I'm not sure how long will my sanity will be kept intact. Maybe I should seek help before I decide to liberate my madness by purchasing a fucking gun.

A String of Replies

To Dood,
As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes it is our own mistake that we want something that we cannot have. Seeing and fucking someone who is attached with another person and loving someone who is already in a relationship with another person is a whole different ball game. You tell yourself you don’t wanna be bother by it as long as you are getting pussy action but deep down inside you are tripping. I try to forget her by taking it out on other cunts but that just make things worse because it sucked the fun outta fucking altogether. I don’t know about you now, but that is how I felt when I was still in love with her.


To Miss Suicide,
Like a mirror that always gives back your face, my fucking memory tend to always replay the worst part of my life, constantly reminding me what I don’t wanna remember. I guess until I find another object of my affection it ain’t that easy to move on, but that doesn’t mean I will forget. Seriously if someone punch you in the face and apologize, I bet you will not forget. Because we are not Jesus fucking Christ or at least who he says he is. Whether we fucking like it or not, we’re gonna bring those fucked up memories of ours into our graves.


To Agent M and Big Boobs,
I totally agree with y’all. There’s the good cunt, the bad cunt and the ugly cunt but I love them all no matter what. I won’t blame any cunt for screwing me up because I think it is just my emotion that took the best of me. So as long as I shut out my emotion and keep my affection at bay, no cunt - good or bad is gonna screw me over because to me they are just another piece of meat.


To Other Dood,
People tend to be intimidated with what is different and uncommon; just be who you are and not swing to what other people’s view on what you should be or become. Fuck them if they cannot accept what you are or has become. Don’t be afraid to show them your middle finger because that is actually what it is made for.


To Rawr,
Yeah, that is a pretty cool idea. A girl sent me a picture of her own cutting design sometime ago and I’ve published it here - Wendy Johnson’s’ Mariner’s Compass


To Dell and Grrr,
If there is a will there is a way to cut. I once cut myself with a broken mug handle because I couldn’t find my razors.


To Callie,
I see that you are trying to post but I’m sorry I buried your post because there wasn’t anything on it. I didn’t delete it but I just saved it as draft. If you are having problem with publishing your stuff, you can always try to get me on MSN or email me. Feel free to post your stuff over this post. I think I speak for most of us here that we are looking forward to read what you wrote.

So Nice to See You Again

It could be the bitter wind from afar that brought us here. I’ve never thought that I would ever be the one who would be out of words but somehow the frozen fear took over me as I never ever thought that I would come face to face again with someone that I would give up my very soul; someone who I would have given up everything; someone who I left…



I‘m so sorry if I never told you that it was so nice to see you again, even though you looked different than before but you are still the person that I adore.


You know, I’ve been saving all these words and feelings for us, for one last miracle but now I am not sure anymore. Knowing that you are still with him and it haunts me every single second, I don’t think I can go through with it.


You might think that I’m a cold blooded person now, that’s because I am all out of love but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember our past. I’m sorry for leaving a bitter taste in your mouth but you know it is for the best.


I don’t know if this is closure but I really mean it when I said...

One.Night.Stand

When I first saw her, I knew she was the one that I have been looking for all my life.


Tall, slim, jet black hair and fairly attractive was all I needed to pull me through this night.


What race? Look, I am not here to discriminate nor judge anyone by their skin color. So what if her skin is black, white, yellow or blue? My dick isn’t prejudice; I assure you it will erect if she is hot regardless of the skin color. But wouldn’t it be cool to have sex with a woman who has blue skin? It’ll make you feel like you’re in an Avatar theme porn flick.


But that aside, back to girl. I didn’t know what color her skin was because the lights were dim but I was ready and willing to go all the way with her that night. She may not be as beautiful as Kat Von D but she was good enough for a sleepover.


I couldn’t recall much on how I got her to leave with me but I remember it was real easy , almost a no-brainer and I didn’t have to pull out my bag of tricks. Come to think of it, this girl had the faraway look in her eyes the whole night and she seems to be crawling instead of walking all the way to where I parked my car. Hmmm… I guess that explains why there was alcohol fumes coming right outta her mouth when I was in between her legs. Oh well, no one got charged for rape, so it’s all good.


Seriously, I don’t understand why some people view “one night stand” as a degenerating act? You people shouldn’t believe everything the bible says. To me it’s a fun activity that everyone enjoys (unless you are not doing it right) and you can lose weight in the process too. I mean this is the only form of exercise that the busy working people do these days. You’ll always hear someone say, “I’m too busy to go to the gym” or “I don’t have time to go jogging” but never “I’m too busy to fuck that big boob whore”


Still think that “one night stand” is an immoral act? Well, let me show you the definition of “one night stand” according xniquet’s self-written dictionary:

“…is a GREAT activity that involves 2 strangers where a women strips down and rubs her body against a naked man's, the man will get horny and get a boner then the women lays down, bends over, lays on a table or washing machine, sits on the man, bends backward, legs behind ears or leans against a wall and the man proceeds to push his erected penis into the female's vagina continuously, causing her immense pleasure. She begins to moan until they reaches orgasm in which the man ejaculates and the chick fucking screams. When woman falls asleep, man will quietly gather his stuff leaving no trace that he was ever there, leave and never be heard of again. “

“…or in short, yes, you can safely say that it involves fucking”


I know that "one night stands" are not suppose to be kept in the very corner of our minds but ain’t life grand because most of us will never forget our first random sex and it will forever be burn into our permanent memory.



p.s.: Another way to define “one night stand” is “a pleasant way to get an unpleasant disease”



[for more related nonsense]

My Withered Affection

This hole right here used to be where my heart was but right now, it is a vacant lot where my withered affection haunts.


I am not sure why but suddenly this yearning of wanting to taste the joy of love resurfaces; the cry for affection and passion suddenly arises; like a junkie craving for its addiction, I know the shit that is going to be involved if I ever fall in love again. Yet I was like a kid who doesn’t give a fuck, wanting to taste the sugar coated cyanide treat that would very much get me killed if I ever choose to devour it. It could be the loneliness but seriously I think I have been through all that and I am way above being lonely. Because loneliness seems like a state of bliss compared to the buffet of fucked up feelings that comes along with being in love.


Jealousy, insecurity, lies, compromise, cheating, wariness, lies and more lies are just but a few of the mess you are going to get into once you slide into this fucked up rabbit hole, it ain’t going to be a wonderland on the other side but just hell itself.


I fucking loath the feeling of thinking about another person 24/7… it’s just disguising when you think back on how fucking vulnerable, needy and dependent a person can get when he is in love.


So the hell with ever wanting to be in love because right now I totally understand why wise dudes of the past choose to say that “love is only for the waist down…”

Do You Feel Love: She was on Death Row & I was the Executioner

I have a dirty little fable to tell, plucked from the very rotten core of my blacken soul; I bring you the human lust and the very essence that makes up every goddamn dirty old man. And this is my side of the story, the decadence of just how low of a scum I can sometimes be, but I hope it will send tingles that would prickle your mental vagina. This is a fusion of loath and lust; this is my moral standing laying flat on the ground…


part 1 - Do You Feel Love: Man Juice & Moist Vagina


As the flickering light hits her body, I could clearly see the humps and lumps forming a series of serious curves on her. With a body like that, it was enough to turn any ordinary monk sworn to chastity into a registered rapist. And they say that money is the root of all evil; well, I say watching a female with a body like that, shaking her ass could do more harm than having money. I couldn’t take my eyes off her that night but inside my thought that was not the only thing I wanted to take off.

There comes a time when we heed a certain call, and you definitely will know it when you feel the tightness in your crouch and the sensation of wanting to explode in your pants. It is the call for some action to be taken. It is a call for you to fucking get a room and get it over with.

Yes, I wanted her; I wanted to be inside her; I wanted to ride her so hard that she wouldn’t be able to walk the morning after. But all this wasn’t out of opposite attraction or the human lust but the masochistic part of me is trying to burst out. Simply fucking her brains out isn’t enough anymore; I wanted more, I wanted her to get acquainted all over again with pain, I wanted to humiliate her, I wanted to cum on the worst part of her body anyone could cum on. Maybe her hair but it has already the stench of a million cigarettes. So I guess aiming straight into her eyeballs would give her a good sting or maybe straight into her nostril, that would probably leave my dick’s malodor in her senses. If that happens she would smell nothing but my penis’s flavor for the next few days.

Yes, all of that went through my head as I was contemplating whether to bring her back into my room or not. Somehow the thought of not wanting to break my promise to my little niece of bringing her to the beach early next morning kept me from doing all the above. I should be heading home and not coming up with ways to torture this girl which I barely even knew.

If you live in a small town like mine, you would know that everyone here is somehow connected to someone you might know and a couple of days later I found out that the girl that I nearly fuck that night was my classmate’s niece. Seriously, if I had done what I wanted to do to her that night, I wasn’t a bit worried that my classmate would clobber me because in order to do that he needed to climb outta his grave. But what freaked me out was if I can choose to do what I want to do to my classmate’s niece, I definitely can’t stop some jerk from doing the same to my little niece when she is all grown up and that is a very scary thought.

I Want You to Taste My Pain

Dear friend,



It’s been awhile. I know you think that I have deserted you; you think that I have no need for you anymore; that I have not invited you into my world but I am here to reassure you that you are always going to be my sweet addiction and my infernal salvation.


I am sorry if I have been away, thinking that I could bend instead of break but time never can make the heartache stop; it just gets into everything and leaving you all twisted up on the inside. I laughed, I cried but the fucking hurt is still the same inside, Fuck God if he thinks his sorcery could ever mend this human wreckage.


Give me your anger; I want you to taste my pain. Be the pillar of strength that I need every time I feel like breaking that fucking bitch’s face; help me be the wrong that this self righteous world is lacking; come to me as the voice in my head that tells me that inflicting pain unto others as others have done unto me is common courtesy; grant me the muse to come up with a million ways to murder a heart; and be the devil that I would gladly give in and worship.


I remember what you said to me the very first time we met...

Well, it’s better late than never.

Prelude: An Analingus Tale

With all the Chinese Lunar New Year still in the air, it is hard to shake off all the New Year’s fucktivity, I mean festivity. You know all I can think about now is the fucktivity that my dirty friends did when they made a sin trip up to Bangkok during the holidays. All the senseless orgy, butthole pleasure and dirty ass rimming that they do behind their wives’ back is simply legendary. After a night’s out with the boys, my mind is polluted with their live to tell stories. The places they stick their penises in is simple jaw dropping. I have been told that Analingus is the new sex a la mode; forget about the conventional blow jobs. Analingus of the way to go but that will all be revealed in another post call An Analingus Tale. But for now, this is just a pseudo blog post with no essence, just lame ass mundane shit that I did during the fucktivities, I mean festivities, after which you will see how pathetic my life really is and you will maybe learn to appreciate what you have even more.

So here are some pictures taken during a trip to a friend’s vegetable farm. I was actually trying to pick up some trade secrets on growing my own spice garden but everything about what I have now just seems to scream wrong.





My friend’s farm is located in Sg. Sol (about 9 clicks from Kuantan); this fucking farm is fucking huge and it is filled with chives which are great on garlic bread [recipe here];

There are baby Sarawak pineapples too;

This weird looking motherfucker is called “Misai Kuching” in Malay which translated means "Cat’s Whiskers." It is to be made into tea and it is great for you anorexic freak;

Not sure what this mother fuckers are called but they are great if you stir fried it with some wolf-berries;

And last but not least this is not a picture taken from the farm but from my very own spice garden. All fucked up by some fucking pest. I may not be Martha Fucking Stewart but I know that my mint leaves are screwed.

P.S. I was approached by a website and was asked to submit some of my writings; so currently I am working on a short story entitle “Father of All”. So that means less time to blog but I will definitely update y’all on what the short story is about.

Right Next Door to Amityville Horror

Do you believe in ghost?

Well, at least I want to believe that it is true. I have never seen one with my own eyeballs nor feel or smell the scent of one, heck I never even encounter a strange happening in my whole fucking life but if you consider scamming hot transvestite in the middle of the night as a paranormal activity then maybe yeah.

But right until now I am still a paranormal virgin and no ghost or apparition has yet to pop my fucking cherry.

[I had something planned for this week entitled Fast & Furiously Trying to Get Laid but something came up and I thought I blog about this first]

This morning as I was watering my spice garden (which only consist of mint plants and more mint plants), I happened to strike up a conversation with one of the kindergarten teachers who was working next door. (Yeah, I live next to a Kindergarten, it is a great place to find a hot girl who would tolerate you when you feel like acting like a 5 year old) I was asking her if she knew about all the ruckus that was going on a month ago with the house behind me. And a shocking revelation was unfold to me, it seem that the house is haunted. No one really talks about it but everyone knows that it is the Amityville of this area. Five fucking families have lived there and all of them moved out within a month. Another common thing about the families is that they are all Indians. You might think that Prima Facie-ly this is because of the irresponsible money-hunger Chinese Realtor that thinks the Indians are suckers for haunted houses. But the true fact is this Chinese Realtor is actually very responsible for only letting Indian family in that haunted house because it goes without saying that Indian is somewhat immune to ghost because it is generally assume that ghosts can’t see them at night. Then again the exorcism (if needed) perform by the Indian is by far the cheapest of the other races here. Come on, how much do you think a few sheets of banana leaves cost? As for a full blown Chinese exorcism, just by asking advice from them, it would cost you a red packet containing nothing less than RM888.88 (a very auspicious figure to the fucking Chinese) and did you know that it will cause you a bomb if you are required to burn paper effigies to appease the fucking spirits which I think it is more like appeasing the blood leeching exorcist than the ghost. Come on who you think the Realtor would let the house to if they are liable for exorcism cost. Take a guess, take a wild guess…

I was greatly disappointed because I've moved in a house next to a haunted house and not into one. You know the fucking feeling of being one number short of the jackpot or having some fucking idiot shout “Bingo” when you are already so close to winning. I feel cheated, just because my skin isn’t black, I’m not always drunk and I don’t reek of coconut oil, it doesn't mean I don't wanna move in a haunted house.

But what is done is done, but that doesn't kill my fascination for that haunted house. I believe every evil has a beginning even Lord Lucifer started as a choir Boy in God’s choir. That is why I really wanna know more about what is going on in that house and also the history and when it started becoming haunted.

Now I fucking feel like Sam & Dean from Supernatural but the only difference is I'm not that good looking, I'm alone & my car booth isn’t filled with guns armed with salt rock shells. But that ain't gonna stop me from getting to the bottom of it.

Happiness after Love

Love is a many splendid thing; love can lift us up where we belong; all you need is love; but pretty soon you'll find out that love is actually the road to your ruin...yeah, all you need is love to fucking ruin your life.

Love is a fucking parasite that lift you up like the sweetest angel and then it will tear you down like a bitter whore, before you even know it, it'll leave you feeling like the dirty spit of the world.

It is a common misconception that the fucking weird feeling that you feel in your stomach when you are in love are butterflies flapping around, the actual cold hard fact, it is probably hook worms or tape worms. Because when the love is gone, the one feeling that your fucking senses can’t lie to you is the feeling of being worn out, chewed up and cast aside like unwanted underwear filled with skid marks.

So what the fuck do we do after the love is gone and we are back being sober again? Are we ever going to be back in the state of euphoric as before or are we just going to remain feeling like stained undergarment?

You know, some of us would become story tellers, telling tales of your previous relationship with your ex. The thing about living in this darn generation is you can have a worldwide audience to listen to your WTF love story. You can fucking blog about how Jesus Christ you were for her; or you can fucking facebook all your pictures together, showing your so-called “Friends” on the internet how great you two were together; or you can twit every 5 minutes on Twitter, whining about how much that relationship has taken its toll on you; better yet you could video yourself crying and sobbing while you tell the world about the greatest love story (not Christ but your WTF love story) on YouTube hoping to gain fame through the sympathy of others. As ridiculous as it may sound but yes, there are some of us who does that and I am guilty of some but not all of the above.

Then there are some of us that just can’t get off feeding from the sympathy of our illusive friends on our facebook account, soon we become the fox in Aesop‘s fables. I think you know which fox I am talking about; yeah it’s the same old fucking fox that couldn’t reach the grapes, hence “sour grape”. Seriously it doesn’t take much to have one of these sour grape session, all you need to do is gather a bunch of your close friends, drink lotsa beer and start bad mouthing about your ex, heck you can even create your very own tall tales about how fuck up your ex is; the fucking sky is the limit. The more you drink and the more bad things you mouth off about your ex (whether true or not), it will eventually become a fact to you and your buddies that your ex is just a fucking sour grape. But if your friends are not as delusional as you, you would probably have to switch to something harder like whiskey.

But a person with a rationale mind would know that none of the posted “facts” on your blog as a whinny blogger or becoming a delusional sour grape creator would ever wipe your fucking relationship slate clean and place your back in your previous state of bliss. He would tell you to clean up your act and strife for a better self, and then find someone new to love and fucking live happily ever after.

But we all fucking know that is bullshit, you may have the finest things in life, a great job, big cars, a big house with furniture that matches the latest Ikea’s catalog and a girlfriend or wife with much bigger breasts than your ex but every fucking time you think about how happy she looks after the breakup, your blood begins to boil; Her every laughter is an abomination to you, and all you wanna do is just break every single fucking teeth in her mouth, kick her in the stomach until her next menstrual start flowing, chew off her nipples and spit it into her mouth.

No there is no happiness here but just another bottomless void that just keeps eating you up like cancer; and you ain’t getting out of it until you fucking see the bitch in misery. Seriously the breakup cliché “I just want you to be happy” is a load of crap.

So if you ask me is there really happiness after the love is over?

“Yes”.

There is “Happiness after Love” but it only comes after you watch that fucking bitch break.

I'm Looking for a Girl

You know what, I think I'm ready for a relationship...


I'm looking for a girl. I'm looking for a girl whom I can cherish. I'm looking for a girl whom I can show my affections to. I'm looking for a girl who likes to be pampered. I'm looking for a girl whom I can lavish my utmost care upon. I’m looking a girl who isn't afraid of gulping down a 16 oz. full cream milkshake to wash down the super size McValue meal that she just ate and then have room for more desserts. I’m looking for a girl who can fill up a full size Godzilla suit.

I'm tired of the norm; I'm sick of underweight girls who dressed up like Princess Leia in a golden toga or like a slutty nun holding a crucifix-like dildo; and at your very command, they are willing to go on their fucking knees and chow down on your filth or do anything to fulfill the every ounce of butt-hole pleasure you desire. No there's not what I want. I want a wholesome 100% fatty filled 350 lbs beauty to call my own.

So what if you've got supermodels for all your girlfriends, one of them 350lbs beauty has got more ass than all your girlfriends combined and even without the help of push-ups, you will never ever again have to complain about not seeing any cleavage on your girlfriend; cleavages can be found everywhere. Come on, why settle for a toothpick when you can have the whole fucking log to yourself?

There's nothing sexier than a girl who weights over 350lbs; the very thought of fondling her dangling flaps of body fat especially the thighs, arms, and back just fucking turns me on. The very sight of her oversize breast and everything else leaves me feeling so goddamn exhilarating and it makes me wanna pass gas every time I fantasize about how fucking tight the largest brassier looks on her. Inserting my manhood between the deep folds of skin of her obese body, using her sweat as lubricant and thrusting to orgasm is simply utopia. Seriously I don’t know why people sees fat as a turn off.

So if you are interested but not quite there yet. Why don’t we engage ourselves in a little feederism relationship where I can be the feeder and you can be the feedee; I can lavish you with acts of feeding, encouragement to eat, and serve you large quantities of food and pretty soon you will be the objectification of my fat fetishism.

I promise I'll be the wicked witch who feeds you if you promise to be my sweet 350lbs Gretel.

Fin.

You know the thing about going on a blog hiatus is that the chances of you pulling a Houdini and not coming back is pretty damn high. Somehow, the blogging zeal in you just evaporates into thin air when you are far away from you blog. As time passes, you are not interested in knowing who are the ones who lurk your blog, you don't give a rat's ass even when your daily hits touches rock-bottom, you feel burdened to reply comments left by your readers, heck you don't even feel like looking at your own blog.

You know, when that time comes, it’s fucking time to fucking move on. It’s time to take your hands off the keyboard and placed it inside your pants and start stroking that of what has been neglected for a long time. Yes, masturbating does feel better than blogging; a blowjob would be way better but the result is the same - you need to clean up after that.

I guess it is a very common thing for a blogger to quit blogging after a hiatus, check out my blogroll to-date. It's like a graveyard of blogs there. Most of them started off by going on a hiatus and they were never to be heard of again...

But right now I feel my blood boil; I feel my spine coil; my hair is ripping; my senses are tripping and there's a monster inside my head , some kind of demon screaming to be let loose. And just like Jack, it is trying to rip its way outta my head. So I guess it is still not time to quit yet, at least until the screams inside my head dies or when I cease to exist.

Right now I feel like a werewolf in a pink bikini and I have some sore news for you motherfuckers that hate me. I'm sorry to say I'm still here to stay and you will just have to deal with all my fucking shit.