Isolated Blurt Thread

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Sadeh naal karle party
Kuri tho lagdi hai naughty
Freaky Freaky raat hogaye!!!

Come and party with us
The girl looks naughty
It's going to be a freaky freaky night!


;)
 
Interesting phenomena.

Every time I leave a public comment on someone's story I shortly thereafter get an anonymous e-mail telling me I'm an asshole for doing so. :confused:
 
Am I really such a horrible person that no one wants to be with me? Or am I just that inept?
 
How the hell am I going to recognize Chantily in three weeks? Am I going to have to ask her to wear a thong and bend over just so I recognize who she is?
 
I dreamt about sex with a guy last night. It was odd. I don't think I want to take that experimentalism into real life.

Gotta love those dreams that go completely against who you are, or at least deal with something you've never thought of doing. ;)

I dreamed about two guys and sex...but it was like I was watching through a window. Both of them are people I work with and as far as I know both are straight...but the one guy was lying on his back on a bed and had like a black riveted leather belt wrapped around his cock, and the other guy was standing over him and making him do things to himself both with and without that belt. They were both completely naked. I've never even seen either of them without a shirt on.

Wonder what this type of dream means. :p
 
Someone just tracked down my livejournal to tell me that they wanted to read part four of my Over the Sink series. Lit feedback and email wasn't good enough for them? :confused:

Well, on the upside, people are reading your stories.

---

Unrelated: It's always a little shocking to suddenly realize you no longer belong.
 
It never ever ever ever ever ever fails...they bring the flag down and I cry. That torch goes out and I sob. It's been that way since Calgary.

Good god, have I been crying at the Olympics for 20 years now?
 
I had this dream last night.

I was driving home from a poker game when this woman runs over my car (she was on foot) to get my attention. She tells me she likes my car and wants one just like it. When she looks in the window to see the interior, she starts fondling my package, and the next thing I know she is in the passenger seat sucking me off as I look for a parking space. But the only space I can find is at a gas station with a police cruiser next to it. I still enjoyed what I got though :D

Then, after waking up and falling back asleep a few times, I dream that everyone is accusing me of underage sex. That wasn't near as fun as the BJ dream...
 
I'm home alone! I'm home alone! I'm home alone!

Kidlets went back to school today! I think I'll do the home alone dance.:D
 
It's like... she's me, only better. It makes me feel inadequate, miserable, depressed, and worst of all, every time I'm confronted with it again, I stop being able to write a single line. It's been going on for months. I can't deal with this. I feel helpless and part of me just wants to leave this place because maybe that way, I'll be able to write again. That part gets bigger every time the writer's block happens again. What the fuck is wrong with me that I let this affect me so much?

I don't want to be around them, and I hate myself because I SHOULD want to.

It never ever ever ever ever ever fails...they bring the flag down and I cry. That torch goes out and I sob. It's been that way since Calgary.

Good god, have I been crying at the Olympics for 20 years now?

So close, yet so fucking far.

Damn.

:sigh:

I don't want to know any more.

* Hugs * :rose:
 
It pisses me off to no end when idiot fans have to yell and holler during a moment of silence. Why? You want your voice heard throughout the stadium? All you accomplish is showing the people around you what a no-class piece of scum you are. That man they were honoring has done more in five minutes than you have done in your entire life, or will ever do. To me, what you idiots have done is no different from spitting on the mans grave.

Next time, shut the fuck up.
 
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