It seems like the proverbial, universal funk has taken over the planet lately. Is there another damned retrograde going on? It's workin' my tits if it is and it needs to get its ass spinning back the right way before I climb up onto the roof of this crack hotel and start flingin' dingleberries at all the junkies and hookers.
I don't know what pterodactyl has crawled up my twat lately, but I am just not havin' it. "It" being ANYTHING. At. All. I have 117 and half blogs bumbling about in my head but don't feel like writing any of them. The one on Christmas day alone is a doozy. I read all of y'all's posts, but haven't the gumption to comment (sorry). I barely want to cook - much less eat. I don't want to talk to anyone. Have had my web messenger hooey thing set to invisible and I just sit there snarling at it as people come and go - hoping to hell they don't decide to message me even though they can't see me. T.V. annoys me (not that that's a big stretch). Hell breathing lately annoys me - mine or that of anyone else. I am one funky, cranky bitch.
And while I am on a whiney-ass bitchy terror, let's talk about blogging. Blogging is really workin' my tits lately. I just can't seem to find my niche with it all. This (Redhead Dancing) was the third incarnation of whatever the hell this is last year. New URLs. New Names. New Directions. New Looks. I just can't seem to get it goin' right - or at least the way I want to. And then, tonight, I just realized maybe I just need to chill the hell out and just say fuck it. Just blog. As I have said before "just write." (Yeah, yeah, Rabbit - I heard you the first umpteen times. Shove it.) I dunno who I am trying to please or impress or jack off or what the fuck I am doing. I haven't a great wad of followers - and the ones I do have are an OUTstanding group of folk that seem to enjoy what I do do when I do it - well except for those two that left recently and I can't figure if they left because I am a faggot, a pagan, or just because I say FUCK too much. Maybe I should put the disclaimer back up.
Have I made one shred of donkey fucked sense yet? I guess my point (were I allowed pointy objects) is that I need to blog because I want to blog. If I want to blog about ass shaking rabbits - so be it. If I want to blog about crotch exploding terrorist - yee haw! Brings a whole new meaning to the term fire crotch. If I want to foam and the mouth and twitch like a research monkey in regard to the price of lube and sour cream - well halle-fuckin-lujah! Let's go!
Rah... (...rah-ah-ah-ah! Roma-Roma-ma-ah! Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!) I'm going. I think this was just me on an unmedicated mental patient's warpath screamin' at the make-believe (thank you, Robert Smith) and colourin' on the walls.
Was it good for you?
Oh yeah, and one more thing I almost forgot:
And PS & BTW: I do not mean this in anyway against the readers and followers I DO have, so please don't take it as such. Y'all really are the best, and I would be lost without you - so nobody else leave or I will have to hunt you down and pull the hair from your womanly (or manly) bits with my bare paws!!! (There I go again, pleasin' and off-pissin'...)