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My Profile
Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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8:47 p.m. - 2003-06-17
By the time I finish this I will be stinking drunk. Got a pretty good start already. Mixed myself a Jack and Coke (half Jack, half Coke) in a 32oz Big Gulp cup and I'm sucking this puppy down as fast as I can. If I haven't passed out from finishing the first one, I'll mix another and keep going til I do. You know what else I want besides total alcoholic oblivion? I want to wake up 5 foot tall. Shit, maybe even shorter. I want to weigh 87lbs and have fingers like tooth picks. I want to wake up and find out I'm not galumphing war horse building sized LA anymore. LA the fucking Clydesdale. I'm sick to fucking DEATH of being this Amazon beast. Fucking LA the dependable old battle axe. LA the She Hulk always handy to have around when you need to lift a Brahma bull into a truck. Hell, screw the truck! LA can carry it! Har har har. Ole LA the Moose is here! Yeah, she’s just a WHALE of a good ol’ girl. No need to be careful or kind around her! Why, she’s built Mack Truck TUFF! WELL FUCK THAT NOISE! I want to be a dainty little pixie. The goddamn ballerina in a crappy little jewelry box. The kind of wee bitsy tee nouncy binkie itsy boo little darling men DROOL over. Just sooooo precious, isn’t she? I wanna be stupid (in front of men, anyhow) and bat my curly little eyelashes and make men go all gooey inside and make them want to pick me up and put me in their pockets and think I’m just the most special teeny little thing EVER! I wanna flutter my tiny little fingers and act all coy and have men fall all over themselves to take care of me. Such a helpless wee tiny wittle darling! I wanna giggle and shriek for protection from ‘dose big bad scary women’ that are soooooo cruel to wittle darlin me. “Oooooo, d’ere so MEAN to tiny little helpless me! And big stwong men like YOU can take care of me. You’re my HERO!” Kind? You haven’t ever seen kindness like I can give! Why, I’ll hang on your every word and tell you over and over and over how BIG you are. And how STWONG you are. And how I just don’t know how I’d EVER be able to a single thing without YOU! My goodness! A REAL man at last! (simper simper) When there are men around at a party or something I will do everything in my power to make every other woman in the room look like were-beasts with castration tools in one hand and a copy of “How To Make Men Look Like The Useless Dogs They Are” in the other. And when there are no men, I’ll cut my eyes at other women and giggle like a moron and say things like, “YOU can probably shop ANYWHERE! Gracious! I’m stuck shopping in the junior’s section at the Thumbelina Store. It’s so HARD to find nice clothes in size 0! tee hee tee hee!” or sigh wistfully about how much I ENVY you other women for being so capable (or brave or BIG or whatever gets the point across that you are a genetic freak of nature who should be in “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” and I am The Most Special and Precious Thing EVER). Or just flat out insult other women and call them names like “Hose Beast” and “Elephant Woman”. Smirking all the while that while you might BELIEVE you are someone’s Love of Life, that if I wanted to I could take your man any old time. And worst of all, I’d be right. God, please hear my prayer. I’m dying inside. I’m so tired of being O-Lan (‘I bore you sons! I bore you sons!’). Please make me Lotus instead. Signing off, one seriously hurting ~LA .............
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