Eastland Academy

Nooooooooo!

2006-04-07T17:55:00.000-04:00

Oh my God. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. I am never gonna get over this. Never.

It's not so much that Mrs. G is dead. That, I knew was gonna happen. I mean, she was old as fuck. But to come home and find her with a can of Janitor in a Drum shoved up her snatch...

That's something you don't get over. Thanks a lot, you old nutcase.

In Rememberance of Whats-Her-Fuck

2006-04-07T17:33:00.000-04:00

'Scuse me, while I breastfeed Junior here...

I remember my first day at Eastland, the day I met Mrs. G.

I was being double-pumped by Jo and Tootie in the common room, when this red-faced redhead stinking of gin staggers into the room, looks at me somewhere close to my face and says, "well, hello, you must be the new toilet," then her wig fell off while she straddled the couch to pee into my mouth.

Yes, Edna Garrett taught me many things, from scat-play ("don't ever say I never gave a shit, you fat fuck"), to the subtle nuances of smuggling ("never forget that your twat is as great a place as any to hide freebase. Especially a twat as big as yours, Natalie.")...Oh my god, I'm going to cry.

Today, I stand here looking at her fresh corpse, her liquified innards leaving their viscous stains on my keds, and am feeling the impulse to honor her death the way she would've wanted me to.

Stand back, girls.

Okay, Junior, I'm going to take off your diaper, I can see by the look on your face it's time for your business...come on, Nat...come on...it's coming...there you go...okay, some over here now. You're such a good baby. Okay, a little more over here. Nice going, junior.

Blair, could you hold Junior for me?

sniff, have to sob make sure this gets waaahah spread out evenl...no, no...

I LOVE YOU, MRS. GARRETT!!!

C'est la vie (or C'est la mort as the case may be)

2006-04-07T01:19:00.000-04:00

I have had it with this place. This failed goddamned school, and my failed cook shop, and my failed trinket shop. Throw them on the steaming pile with my failed marriages and my failed motherhood, and you've got the facts of my shitty life.

Knock back a Janitor-in-a-Drum shooter, and you've got the Facts of Death.

Heh. So as a final farewell, I've written a little ditty that speaks to my current state. Sorry I couldn't convey the actual tune to you, but hey, this is a suicide note by a desperate old woman, not Guitar World.

----begin song------
When the girls you used to love, you hate
And it doesn't help to masturbate:
Consider Death--The Facts of death

There's a time you gotta kill yourself
Just to save your mental health
The Facts of Death...Oh sweet, sweet death!

When you've drawn your last breath
And ~~Natalie~~ ~~Blair and Natalie have~~ Blair has annoyed you to death
Suddenly you're finding out the facts of death are all about ME.
--I mean Missus G.

I don't have that much lifetime left,
~~Since I've learned the facts of death!~~
Cuz I'm going to kill myself with Janitor in a FUCKING Drum!
----end song-----

OK, so the last line is a little off-meter. It's not my best work. Sue me. Seriously, go ahead and sue me--my estate will consist of an extensive support hose collection and a tube of warming KY.

Blair, Natalie: If you're wondering, I DO consider you two my biggest failures. You two are total assholes. Suck my dead ass.

Jo and Tootie, you were just joyful to have in my life, even if you are a lesbian biker and an overdeveloped future porn star, respectively.

This Janitor-in-a-Drum is pine scented, which is a real drag. I'd rather have my last drink be kinda citrus-y. Oh well, if life were perfect, I wouldn't be fucking killing myself, now would I?

You know, I don't think drinking this coniferous swill is poetic enough. I should die the way I lived--cleaning shit. I wonder if dumping an entire liter of Janitor-in-a-Drum into my crusty, tired, poorly-maintained, overstretched old hooch would poison my bloodstream enough? I'm not a chemist, but I'm gonna have to hope that excessive curdled yeast won't completely neutralize caustic and dangerous compounds!

Hell, "suicide by douche" is original enough that my story might even get picked up by some wire service's "Odd News" section!

Well, here goes nothing! Bottoms up!
Edna

Even He Had Off Days

2006-02-25T16:37:00.000-05:00

Nancy has grown up to be a real cunt.

2005-09-13T23:47:00.000-04:00

There was really no other way to say that other than bluntly.

I used to secretly side with Nancy all the time in her spats with Blair. This is primarily because, as I'm realizing more each day, NOBODY LIKES BLAIR.

So I was in Manhattan yesterday, shopping at a trendy new control-top panty boutique in the Village--Gunt. As I'm exiting the store, trying not to get my pendulous breasts caught in the revolving door, I run tits-first into none other than NANCY OLSON!

I was so excited that I started doing that flustered clucking that I do when I'm near young women. Unfortunately, there was no mistaking the vibe that Nancy wanted nothing to do with me. She went to great lengths to pretend that she had no idea what I was talking about. She kept insisting that she is an actress named Felice Schachter, and she kept spewing meaningless bullshit about how she once starred on the silver screen alongside the most notorious cocksmith in all of entertainment, Scott Baio, in his blockbuster, Zapped!

What a fucking ungrateful bitch! It's one thing to blow somebody off, but to pretend to BE somebody else? To just make this shit up is so feeble.

Did any of these girls end up as normal, loving people? I'm really beginning to wonder if I have wasted the last 25 years of my life.

Bitches.

Must-See TV

2005-07-25T18:15:00.000-04:00

This guy, Kevin Reilly, who's a big muckety-muck at NBC, was cryin' today about how bad NBC sucks now. This is no surprise to those of us who remember when the network used to put on really quality shows. *ahem*

But it made me sad, thinking about all those network execs who're gonna have to go without a fourth car because of the shit they keep trying to pump down viewers throats. So I went through my old creative writing notebook from my Eastland days. See, the English teachers at Eastland left a lot to be desired. They were lacking things like insight and knowledge and ability to teach. So I usually spent my time in the back of the room writing down ideas for new shows. When I went through 'em today, I was knocked out. They're actually pretty fucking good; at the very least, they're better than Law & Order: Trial by Jury.

Doctard--A young retarded man struggles to prove that he can make it in medical school. His mentor is a demanding surgeon who tolerates no mistakes. Get Corky for the lead.
The Timer--A group of student athletes on their school's track team use a magic stopwatch to travel through time and save the world every week. Mostly, they do this by running or jumping hurdles or throwing heavy, cannonball-like objects.
Senator Whiskers--When a U.S. senator is murdered by the mob, his hyper-intelligent cat is appointed to fill his seat. Not only must the cat prove he's up to the task of legislating, he must also track down his former owner's killers and bring them to justice. Maybe get Michael J. Fox to voice the cat.
The Skids--A Bochco-esque drama that follows a group of homeless people as they struggle in their day-to-day existence. They meet up regularly at a shelter run by a sexy young nun, who maybe becomes involved with one of the homeless women, their sweaty bodies brushing up against each other in the soup kitchen; the sweet forbidden--huh? Oh, right. Anyway, I think this series could actually get people to care about smelly bums.
Slap Sandy Duncan--Just what it sounds like. A game show where, each week, contestants compete for the chance to slap the shit out of Sandy Duncan. Wheat Thins could sponsor!
Froggy Go Bye-Bye--A wacky Frenchman who speaks no English is mistakenly sentenced to twenty years in a maximum security prison. Think how funny it would be if he were struggling to figure out how to say, "Please don't rape me" in English!

I'll be waiting for Kevin Reilly to give me a call.

My First Column!

2005-07-21T15:45:00.000-04:00

This is so cool. I just got a new gig as the cultural critic for the Langley College Daily News. Since the circulation for the L.C.D.N. is about 20, I decided to reprint my first column here.

Second Round of London Bombings "Amateurish"
The attacks today on London's Underground, coming two weeks on the heel of similar attacks which proved far deadlier, seem like a weak copy of the original. The attacks of July 7th paralyzed the city with fear and were carried out at rush hour with a chilling precision and a seeming desire to kill as many people as possible.

Today's bombs were detonated at mid-day, when most people were at work and the tube was filled with mostly tourists and the homeless. Also, the terrorists made the mistake of trying to blow people up not in central London, as was the case with the previous bombings, but in more outlying areas that nobody really cares about. Aside from the poor timing and location of the attacks, we have fact that these bombs--unlike the ones that tore apart buses, trains and lives two weeks ago--didn't even explode properly. One person was injured and there were no fatalities. The Guardian U.K. reports that the severest damage done was to a couple of bookbags and a rucksack. Ooo, I'm trembling.

Who were these guys, The Terror Cell That Couldn't Shoot Straight? Come on! First off, if you're going to blow yourself up in the name of Allah, you're going to need to actually blow yourself up, aren't you? I mean, those 70 virgins waiting for you in Paradise aren't going to have anything to do with you if you can't martyr yourself correctly. Second, couldn't they come up with a more original plan? Three trains and a bus? Yawn. Nobody likes a copycat, gentlemen.

Now, if they're going to ramp up there terror efforts here, they're going to need to think outside the terror box. What other forms of mass transit could be exploded? How about a ferry? People get all freaked out when those capsize, I'm betting they'd piss themselves if one blew up. A water taxi'd be even better. Nobody expects those to go. For my money, a "moving sidewalk" would be a perfect target. Think about it: everybody's already got luggage on the damn thing. You just roll your bomb right on! Even more original: How about flying a hang-glider into the side of a skyscraper? Of course, you'd want some kind of explosive on it, otherwise you're not a martyr, you're just clumsy.

Anyway, however they do it, these terrorists are going to have to come up with something a little more inventive than what they did today if they want to keep everyone's interest. This attack was amateurish to the point of laughability and I'm giving it: C-

A Call to Arms

2005-07-20T17:18:00.000-04:00

I'm getting a little freaked out here.

If this John Roberts guy gets appointed to the Supreme Court, it's looking like he'd be pretty quick to overturn Roe v. Wade. Now, as many times as Mrs. G. has had to drive the girls in this house to the clinic for a scrape, you can be damn sure that none of us want to see abortion outlawed.

I can just see poor Tootie in a post-Roberts America, skating full-speed into a door knob, hoping to dislodge the placenta from the side of her womb.

Seriously, you're going to see a lot of Tooties and Blairs going through illegal channels to rid themselves of unwanted pregnancies if this guy is on the bench. And, sweet fucking Jesus, how about poor Natalie? If this fucker advocates throwing little girls in jail for eating one french fry on a train, Natalie's going away for life. She can't go one stop on MetroNorth without scarfing down a ham sandwich.

We've gotta work to get a better nominee. Hey! Lots of people want to see another broad up there. Why not Mrs. G.? God knows, she's good at meddling. She'd be absolutely fucking perfect.

Blair May Be a Stupid Rich Whore...

2005-07-13T11:26:00.000-04:00

...but this is a really good Op-Ed piece by Sarah Vowell from today's NY Times.

Somebody open a window, 'cause I think Blair forgot to dousche this morning.

Oh. hmm...

2005-07-12T19:10:00.000-04:00

I wonder what today's date is. Why look! It's the 12th! Fully a week since my last post. Hmm.

And has anyone else posted anything since? Why, no! No, no one has.

I'm eating chunky monkey.

Jesus Christ...

2005-07-05T14:58:00.000-04:00

Does everything I say have to be followed by a week of silence?

I'm keeping the fucking baby, go about your goddamn business!

Blair, go back to sucking on Jo's strap on.

Tootie, keep Uncle Tom'ing all over the place.

Mrs. G, I have some rubbing alcohol for you, you Kitty Dukakis wannabe.

Okay...

2005-07-01T05:30:00.000-04:00

That's two dead rabbits. I just got off the phone.

I didn't take Paxil with the box of Hot Pockets, like I usually do. So, I was sober, and what I heard was real.

I just know it wasn't Snake, 'cuz he came all over my face.

You know what? I don't give a good goddamn what the hell actually happened, but I've made up my mind:

I'm keeping my baby. I'm going to keep my baby.

Woo-ooo, ohh oooh.

Sweet Justice

2005-06-27T10:30:00.000-04:00

Those motherfuckers at Chase Manhattan. They have had my pants around my ankles for years now. I have a credit card that I use for Edna's Edibles. The credit card isn't for shit--it gets regularly rejected, prompting me to send the girls on "klepto runs" to local grocery stores, another story entirely. The only reason I still have that frigging MasterCard is that it IS accepted at Timmynoggy's Late Night Liquor Emporium/Check Cashing Quik Stop down on Melrose.

For the past five years, I have been raped by Chase's usurious finance charges. The barbed corporate cock of Chase Manhattan has violated and torn every single orifice of this old battleship.

Finally, some renegade attorneys got the idea that people like me deserved some compensation for the way we had been treated. They said, "Nobody's gonna hurt you, not on our watch." I signed a few consent forms to get their help. I sat on a witness stand and held a doll, and pointed to the naughty parts in which Chase had fucked me. Thousands of others joined me. A class action suit was born! I hadn't felt this air of social change since the sixties! We were gonna bring down the corporate assholes, and then force them to dine from a trough of their own feces!

Days turned to months, which turned to years. My confidence waned. The stalwart defenders of justice remained, and persisted, defending us against the Chase juggernaut. Drained from the years of anticipation and subsequent disappointment, I finally resigned myself to losing. Then, last week, it finally happened. Chase got a taste of its own rectum!

Victorious, the altruistic attorneys kept only tens of millions for themselves. They evenly divided the remainder of the spoils between the victims, so that we could start life anew! My spirit soared! Thoughts of prosperity danced in my head: a new truss for me, upgrading Tootie to Rollerblades, gastric bypass for Nat, a new Harley for Jo, another swift cunt kick for that fucking ungrateful Blair-whore…

Days went by, and the check finally came! I greedily tore the envelope open to claim my riches…and found a check for $.14.

FOURTEEN BLOODY CENTS? That and a nickel (and another penny) will get me a tampon in the ladies restroom at Eastland! (Well, if the machine weren’t broken, and if I weren’t menopausal…)

My first thought, the thought after that, and every thought since has been the same: I need a fucking drink.

Fer Christ's Sake

2005-06-25T11:31:00.000-04:00

Nat, you are such a fucking retard. Seriously, at some point in the last few years, someone replaced your brain with turkey gravy.

I'm not a hermaphrodite. You're not pregnant. What Blair saw was me removing the Hilshire Farms Polska Kielbasa that you had wedged in your cooch when you passed out. Little Miss Rich Tits is obviously not acquainted with Polish sausage.

Now can we put this subject to rest and start addressing important things, like the fact that Mrs. G. is now drinking a liter of vodka every night?

Wait, but that means...

2005-06-24T19:20:00.000-04:00

That means Jo's the father of my baby!

But...but...I didn't even know Jo was a hermaphrodite!

how? what? Noooooo!

Well, not exactly

2005-06-23T19:45:00.000-04:00

Okay, it wasn't EXACTLY like Jo said...I mean that all happened, but Jo kind of left something out.

We were back home, and Nat, you were passed out from your massive sugar high on your bed, and I'd just finished combing the back of my hair 50 times (Mother always taught me front, left, right and back), and I as I was walking back to my room I heard something from Nat's room, and it was kind of dark but the door was open a crack, and I saw Jo, I mean, Jo had her, well...oh, I can't say it. I won't say it! Jo, why, Jo? Why?

If What You're Saying Is True, Jo...

2005-06-18T20:06:00.000-04:00

Then let's hear it from Tootie and Blair. Guys?

Personally, I just think you're jealous that your dad likes fucking my creases more than he likes fucking your butch ass. At least you have your mom to fuck, can't you just live with that?

meanwhile, I hope this isn't your step-sibling.

An Intervention

2005-06-18T17:54:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to say that, Natalie, we all care about you here. I won't go so far as to say we all love you, 'cause I know that ain't necessarily the case, but you're our roomie and shit, so we all care about you at least as it applies to the rent you pay.

This is why I want everyone to take a second to tell you that you've gone absolutely fucking crazy. I've known some really whacked-out broads in my time (my Aunt Penny comes to mind; she used to walk around town with one tit hanging out, yelling, "Look at me! I'm an Amazon, ya stupid fucks!") but you are fast approaching the top of the list.

I didn't want to say anything, I've been trying not to, 'cause I know it's gonna embarrass you, but Blaire, Tootie and I were with you on your birthday. We took you to Chuck E. Cheese and you passed out after eating two large pepperonis and three-quarters of a German chocolate cake. You ended up face down on the Skee-ball game. Maybe all the sugar, plus the repetition of those balls slammin' into your crotch got you hallucinating or something. But I know for sure that you weren't gang-banged.

We brought you home and dumped you into bed, where you spent most of the night rolling around in a puddle of chocolate/pizza vomit before we cleaned you up in the morning.

As far as Snake goes, sure, maybe you've done him. I don't know for sure and I'm frankly too grossed out to picture it. But these other fantasies of yours are getting out of hand and someone has to put a stop to it. That's why I'm thinking we need to just lock you in your room for a month until you calm down. Hopefully, this hysterical pregnancy will go away by then and maybe you'll have rejoined planet earth.

You need help, Nat. And if that don't work, you need a good ass-kicking. If it comes to that, I want you to know that I'm here for you. Happy to kick your ass if you need me.

The Rabbit...

2005-06-17T20:15:00.000-04:00

It's dead.

Blair Bitch Project

2005-06-03T08:21:00.000-04:00

OK, this is it. The last straw. How many times do I have to act as a surrogate mother to you before you stop treating me like the hired help? Am I just another of your faceless slaves, who are bought and sold like chattel? Today, I bring you your breakfast LITERALLY on a silver fucking platter, and you wrinkle your pert little plastic nose at me and bitch that the coffee isn’t strong enough?

Blair, you have been a cunt to me for the last time. Yes, Natalie’s large-curd ass disgusts me, but at least she’s a "friend with benefits." Tootie may be all inked up with gang tats, but she’s sweet and her enormous rack is easy on the eyes. And Jo tunes my engine (so to speak) for no charge.

And you...your chubby legs are fucking welded together at the knees, for Christ's sake. If you won't put out and you don't have any Warner Industries money, what are you good for?

I give you lodging and you shit on me? You know what I say? FUCK YOU, Blair.

Apologize, or I am throwing you out of here, and firing you from your job at Edna’s Edibles.

S+N 4ever

2005-06-01T14:28:00.000-04:00

o darling snake, I want to swallow your throbbing shlong
but cruel fate, won't tell me why this would be so wrong

I'm hungry.

Have you ever...

2005-05-27T17:42:00.000-04:00

Have you ever taken a shit so big you pass out?

Well I woke up three hours later, and you know how the walls are around here. I overheard this coming from Blair's room:

"Oh Jo, Jo, JOOO!
Not so deep, damn it!"

"Oh shut up and take it you stuck up, bitch."

I mean, why do they even pretend to hate each other anymore?

A Birthday Rememberance

2005-05-23T14:29:00.000-04:00

What a weird and wonderful night.

First of all my father picks me up (in the car, dumbass), and the first stop is to the motel my dad is staying at this weekend. But he doesn't pay any attention to me, he just makes a bunch of phone calls and telling people the room he's staying in. I was bummed. I know he still has business to do, but, goddamnit, it's my birthday.

But I didn't need to worry, because as soon as he was done, he takes me to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, where I had a wonderful meal, and which I topped off with a whole French Silk Pie. Dad bought a couple of drinks and gives one to me, he calls it a "lost weekend," and it's at times like this that I knew what the hell he was talking about half the time.

We head back to the motel, and when we park, my dad flashes his brights a couple of times, and then a car across the lot does the same thing back. I ask dad what that was about, and he tells me it was something he learned in Gulf War 1, told him where his friends were. Whatever.

We get into the room and dad says, "Honey, maybe you should go take a shower," and I ask why, because I had already taken a shower before he picked me up, and I hadn't done anything to-to-and there's tears in my eyes and he says, "Jesus, what the fuck are they teaching you over there, how to be a big ass whiny bitch? I only said that so that you could put this on." And he gives me a box labeled Frederick's.

My eyes were so big when I saw the package, I thought they'd fall out, and I take it and head to the bathroom so I could shower. I didn't even open the box, I wanted to be surprised just before I put it on.

When I open it--OMGomgomgomg...It's. So. Sexy. And the hole is laced with faux fur. I put them on, and when I get into the room: There's dad, along with Tootie's dad, Blair's dad and Nancy's dad and Mr. Bradley, the headmaster at Eastland (I think he's Jo's dad anyway. I mean why else would they let her in the school, if it wasn't because she's Bradley's illegitimate daughter?).

"Happy Birthday, honey. this year, I got you a gang bang."

Oh. My. God. ohmygod. I could describe the next few hours, but you're going to have to ask me later. Let's just say that dad gave me half of the money in his pocket because he said I earned it.

He was driving me back, when that stuff started leaking out. Now, I thought that was supposed to stay inside, isn't it? I mean, Snake just shot it at my face because he said it reminded him of playing Mr. Mouth. But here it started making my skirt kinda wet. That must be why dad put a towel on the seat.

When I get back to Eastland, it's all dark, and everyone's asleep. I still have stuff coming out. I walk by Mrs. G's room and I see she's asleep, with the sheets all tossed and I see she sleeps in the nude.

I couldn't stop looking. I head in and slowly make my way to her bed. her tits are so nice and soft, they felt great in my hand. She moaned a little, so I put my hand down there for a while, and Mrs. G turns her head my way and her mouth pops open. so I get an idea.

Mrs. G swallows the first bit and starts suckling, which gave me the biggest present yet! Mr. Vibey has nothing on this.

When I'm empty, I get up and out, and head to the kitchen, to see what the leftovers are.

Then I went to sleep, tired, funky and gunky, but with the biggest smile on my face.

I wonder what my 14th birthday will be like.

Congressional

2005-05-21T13:49:00.000-04:00

I was flipping through the channels last night, looking for the Lee Marvin Marathon on AMC, when something caught my eye on C-SPAN. There were these senators debating whether or not to do away with the filibuster. They were all taunting each other and shit. They were calling each other Nazis and all this really mean-spirited shit and it just really reminded me of that time we were painting our room above the kitchen and we weren't getting along and I threw some paint at Blair and she through some paint back, but it missed me and hit Nat. We just went nuts. When it was over, our room--the place we lived--was a huge fucking mess. We'd been so hell-bent on splattering each other that we didn't care what happened to our home.

What the Senate needs is someone like Mrs. G. She'd go in there and get 'em to knock it off. She'd get Bill Frist to see that he really likes Robert Byrd and doesn't want to call him names. She'd get Rick Santorum to realize that he's constantly talking about how evil gays are because, deep down, he loves them. If Mrs. G. were in the Senate, I could marry another woman. Just for an example. Because I don't really want to marry another woman, but I'm just saying that it would be possible under the sort of tolerant place that Mrs. G. would make it into. I mean, if I wanted to marry a woman or things like that, I would. But I don't.

Happy Birthday, Fatass!

2005-05-20T10:54:00.000-04:00

I know I'm supposed to love all the girls equally, but come on. This sow is breaking me, man. I feel like a zoo worker, constantly shoveling slops into Natalie's trough. I'm on a fixed income here, Jabba, so could you cut me some slack?

On this day, so many years ago, I'm sure your mother and father beheld your newborn pudgy French Stewart-look-alike face for the first time and thought:
[birthday flashback]
Mr. Green: Jesus, I SHOULD have had that vasectomy.

Mrs. Green: I think this thing just tried to EAT my tit! I wonder if a jury would convict me if I suffocated this monster?

Mr. Green: If we have her spayed NOW, maybe we can stop this madness right here?

Mrs. Green: Perhaps I shouldn't have had sex with that hippopotamus?

Mr. Green: Wait, is this a BOY?
[end flashback]

For your birthday, since I'm too broke to buy you a present, (and since it's too hard to find a store that sells blouses in the tent sizes that you need) I'll just give you some free advice: Try mixing in a fucking salad.

Happy birthday, you stupid douche.

Racist

2005-05-19T06:35:00.000-04:00

I think that's awful blaming Tootie just because she's black. I mean, at home, we have lots of black servants, and you don't see me blaming them everytime my chastity belt goes missing. How could I blame them--they're too lazy to steal!

And I resent the idea that I have to give my dad sexual favors for money--I suck Daddy's pee pee, and gladly, because this is something a girl needs to learn, and like Daddy says, "I'd rather have you learn this at home than out on the street!". By the way Jo, the bite marks you left on him last time are still showing and Mom is getting suspicious. Stupid fang-toothed whore!!

Well, I'm off to a date with Roger, Troy and Alan. Bye bye girls.

If It Wasn't Jo...

2005-05-18T18:27:00.000-04:00

it must have been Tootie!

I mean, she is black.

Where's Nat's Money???

2005-05-18T16:27:00.000-04:00

Nat, have you tried looking in between your fat rolls?

Besides, I don't need your goddamn money. If I need money, I just blow Blair's dad. That's how she gets her money, too.

As for the muff-diving comment, I think you're letting your perverse imagination affect your perception of reality. Just because you have to invent lovers for yourself, don't go dragging the rest of us into your Fantasy Land.

Hey, here's a joke:

Why did Natalie cross the street?

'Cause she's a pathetic asshole!

Who Went Through My Wallet?

2005-05-18T13:57:00.000-04:00

Goddamnit, I went to pick up some D batteries for M...y boombox, and the $50 I had in the wallet is missing!

JO! You muff diving cunt bag, did you do it?

Who made bundt cake?

Bone of Contention

2005-05-18T00:01:00.000-04:00

By a show of hands: Who here really believes that our resident beloved quick-witted fatass Natalie Green actually got laid first out of my four girls? We all know that Natalie sublimates her urges for a deep dicking by gorging herself on meats. And we all know that she lacks the interpersonal skills to close the deal with a man. Yet SHE claims to have done the deed first?

If we were talking about a clumsy and gooey movie theater handjob, OK, maybe I’d buy it.

“First one to give an anonymous back-alley BJ?” Umm sure, that’s ALL Nat.

I could even comprehend an awkward back-of-the-bus tuna-laced fingerbang.

But ACTUAL SEX, before the other three?

I mean sure, everyone assumed that it was inevitable: Natalie would someday meet some ham-handed pep band tuba player at temple, and he would eventually harpoon Moby Nat with his three-inch pud . Despite that concession, I doubt that the rest of the girls believed that our dear wise-cracking sedentary doorstop would be first out of the gates in the Vagina Derby.

When you think about it, Blair could have easily scored with Cliff whenever she wanted to. Tootie needed a fucking forklift to haul her tits around, and her face wasn't half bad. Jo and Nancy were fisting before it was stylish.

My guess is that the girls got together and decided to throw Fatalie a bone, and let her believe that her sweaty, nightmarish, painful roll in the flour with Snake was a groundbreaking event for the Fantastic Four. It probably really helped her self-esteem at the time.

What The HAVE Is Happening To Me?

2005-05-17T17:55:00.000-04:00

Oh god, oh god. Oh! The roast is done. BRB.

Okay, so, can I tell you? Today is the worst day ever. First of all, I apparently went to sleep with Mr. Vibey still in place. Bad news: Batteries are dead. Good news: It stopped Aunt Flo from spewing all over my sheets. THAT would've been embarrassing.

Time for B&J: Wavy Gravy, brb.

Okay. So. THEN, that twat Tootie trundles those tits of hers into the common room and just yells out that I'm a fat bitch and THEN tells me to suck it! Maybe mom was right and people like her end up in monkey heaven.

I tried to laugh about it, but...but I couldn't. Sat with Mrs. G and cried, and she gave me a box of expired Zingers (I *heart* Snoopy), and then held me. Her hands stroked my skin, and then... (Oh god, does she know? Does she? I hope so, but...but...no, no she doesn't)

God, I need it bad. I wish Dad were here.

Time for a hot dog! That'll make things better.

Natalie Green: WHORE

2005-05-17T17:38:00.000-04:00

Yeah, that's me. I gave it up to Snake before any of the other girls had been deflowered!

and it doesn't take much. You heard me! Who has an Oh Henry! I'll eat you out! Come here! You, now!

Peekskill is a SHITHOLE

2005-05-16T15:21:00.000-04:00

I've been holding my tongue on this for years, but it's time to speak out.

Peekskill is a literal cesspool. The only reason I'm still alive is that the Grim Reaper is too disgusted by our meth labs, rat infestation and open ponds of raw sewage to cross into our city limits! Hell, the vaccine for Ebola Zaire is being developed from a killer bacteria culture obtained from a payphone mouthpiece at the Chug-A-Lug Bar. Peekskill is much better known for dispensing black tar heroin than debutante diplomas.

So the question is: WHY I ask you?

WHY the fuck do these rich Manhattan pricks bring their kids 48 miles out to Peekskill as day students? I mean, seriously, like when Kimberly Drummond was going to school here as a day student...that's pretty much a 100-mile commute EVERY DAY to come to the educational equivalent of a dripping satchel full of diarrhea. With all that time on their hands, the chauffeurs of these rich bitches alone make up 40% of Peekskill's narcotics consumption! It's a wonder that the Drummond girl turned out to be as fabulous as she did! (Though I haven't heard from her in years, the ingrate!)

At least those poor bastard day students get to go home at night. WHY are you taking your kids from Manhattan and BOARDING THEM here? You could save some time and money and just get the girl her pimp representation and drop her off on the corner with a needle hanging out of her arm. (Peekskill guys find that HOT.)

I've done my best over the years, but I'm fed up with this town. Maybe I'll just leave and get Beverly Ann to run this piece of shit blog.

What are you looking at? Never seen an old lady down on her luck? Fuck off!

Blair sucks ass

2005-05-15T20:25:00.000-04:00

I wish Blair would shut her prissy little fucking mouth.
Whore.

Sorry, Mrs. G. I'm trying to stay positive here, but the other night, when we were watching Showgirls? Blair made some stupid fucking crack about me staring at Elizabeth Berkely's tits. What a bitch. I swear to fucking God, if she doesn't stop with the wisecracks, I'm gonna shove a crescent wrench sideways up her ass.

I.Q. Scores!

2005-05-15T16:17:00.000-04:00

Girls,

At school today I stumbled across the results of the recent I.Q. tests! Sue Ann, I'm sorry girlfriend, yours were the lowest. Guess you're not gonna be at Eastland very long if you don't do well on the finals.

Nancy! You go girl! You have the highest I.Q. in school!! I bet you're gonna go places, nothing's going to stand in your way, now! Maybe you'll even meet that dreamy Scott Baio. I heard he's quite the gentleman.

Good luck on finals, I'm gonna get back to my rollerskatin'.

What the HAVE is VH1 thinking?

2005-05-14T22:31:00.000-04:00

Showgirls(1995), starring Saved by the Bell's Elizabeth Berkley, was inexplicably airing on VH1 this weekend. I say inexplicably, because I can see no reason to watch this movie without its signature nudity and profanity. Nor can I see a way to edit it without leaving simply the following:
1. Opening credit sequence
2. Two-second dance flourish (with Liz's naughty bits pixellated)
3. Closing credit roll

VH1, for whatever reason, chose to take on this editing challenge, and made a conscious decision to air the Razzie-winning flick under the moniker "Movies That Rock!" To quote Ronnie Malibu* : "Pssh. Whatever."

One example of the loss of gravitas from which the neutered version suffers: Elizabeth Berkley just uttered what I consider to be her signature line to co-star Glenn Plummer: "You can fuck me when you love me."

In the VH1 edit, "FUCK" WAS REPLACED WITH "HAVE."

So I've been going around all day today saying to the girls things like, "What the HAVE is going on here, Blair?" and "Go HAVE yourself, Tootie!"

I know this has no bearing on your lives, but cut me some slack. I'm old and menopause hit me like a freight train during the having Nixon administration, for have's sake.

*Ronnie Malibu is a character who Kato @ WITFITS is famous for inventing. Ron Malibu is not to be confused with Ron Mexico, for whom Mike Vick deserves credit. Ronnie Malibu's schtick is that he says ONLY, "Psssh...Whatever!" He says this in different ways, which can be humorous if you find things that aren't funny to be amusing.

That's hot...

2005-05-11T10:54:00.000-04:00

I may be an old woman, and the girls I helped raise may have indeed forsaken me.
BUT this granny knows good music when she hears it. This little ditty was on my favorite television program, Chapelle's Show. I feel so gangsta when I waddle around the house in my support hose rapping these words!

I battle any sex or any race
You beating me is like Billy Crystal playing Scarface
I can't see it, blind to the eyes
I came up in your face!
OOPS....POW....SURPRISE!
ooooooooOOHHHH

Natalie is a FAT BITCH!

2005-05-10T22:49:00.000-04:00

C'mon, I just articulated what everyone else is feeling!
The truth will set us (and Natalie's enormous ham hock thighs) free.

Hey Nat, sukkit!

Joe from Hairshirt is a deceptive man-lover.

2005-05-10T11:05:00.000-04:00

Let's face it, he should have been an extra in Alexander.