....nice to see ya', it's been a long time, you're just as lovely, as youuuuu used to be. Well actually, you're still pretty heinous. And despite the fact that you have a hatchet face, personality of a wet rag and cottage cheese thighs, my life hasn't been the same without you. Truly, I adore you. It's been forever, and I've decided that it's time for a comeback. Inspired by the fiery phoenix that is Lindsay Lohan, I will pour myself into my patent leather leggings, rock some bulimia, cover my body in spray tan, and rise out of the ashes as if I too had been dumped by my trollish lesbian love. But alas, I haven't, so we will just pretend won't we? Let's pretend her name is Christine, but she goes by
Chris. So where have I been hiding out for so long, you ask? Well, like
The Linds, I
too have
been in rehab all of this time. "Gettin' my rehab on," that's what we call it back in L.A. Two long years was all it took. Meth's a real bitch to get rid of. And then after I got better and had all of that cosmetic surgery to hide my track marks and the "
Chris Forever" tatoo I got when I was on one of my Meth/Speed combo benders, I decided it was time to become a public figure again. So here I am. Just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her. Oh Julia, you alway put things into perspective.
Of course none of that's true (well not
all of it). I've just been too busy and selfish and uninteresting so I went into a self-imposed hibernation. And lucky for yall, I decided it was time for me to finally come out of hiding (Who's laughing now you Nazi cows? The old fake library bookcase gets em' every time). You need me now more than ever. I am back in the hope that my foul-mouthed ramblings will take your mind off of life's horrible truths: The recession, war, death, The Snuggie, poverty, and whatever is under Brett Michael's doo-rag (my guess is some advanced air-borne strain of Chlamydia that thrives in the human hair follicle. Or a fat asian guy). And let's be honest, I need yall, my beloved, devoted, and sometimes obsessive fans too (I'll cherish that vial of blood you sent me forever - you know who you are). Otherwise, I'm just a crazy girl french kissing her computer screen, who thinks she's really a soap-opera star, who writes stories for the magical talking squirrel that lives in the bathroom sink and demands that she write stories or people will have to die.
Besides denying all the trash that
Chris has been spreading about me in the media, I've been keeping very busy since last we spoke. Here are a few things I've been up to: Just read
Like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse the autobiography of Phyllis Diller; I opened up a cat grooming salon named
Pussies; I penned a bestselling children's book titled
The Hairy Blood-Sucking Monster That's Hiding Under Your Bed, Yes, Your Bed Little Child-Reading-This-Book-Right-Now; I've been using the term "Sham-Wow" as an interjection and implementing it into my daily vocabulary "Duuude, I saw the hottest hottie the other day and I was like Sham-Wow he is so foiiiiine!!!!" By the way, am I the only one who thinks the
Sham-Wow guy is strangely sexy? Not in his
prostitute-beating mugshot, of course, but on the commercials? He's like a bizzaro Leo DiCaprio with a Brooklyn accent, bulging eyes, and a yeah-I-don't-give-a-fuck-I'm-on-an-infomercial-attitude. I know, he's got everything against him but, I think there's something there. Not to mention he wipes up spills and chops food at a rapid pace. And his name is Vince Shlomi. It may be the similarity to the word
shlong, but I swear that last name screams "Big Penis" to me. What's not to love? But it makes you wonder. This guy seemed so normal on the commercials, and then he goes ballistic on that poor sweetheart of a Russian-scum looking hooker. It just goes to show you can never really know a person. For instance, the now infamous Craigslist Killer that picked up prostitutes and murdered them via Craigslist. He looks like All-American Joe-boyfriend, engaged to a cute girl, in medical school, and, who'da thunk it, was out killing prostitutes in hotels. It should be a warning to suspicious girlfriends everywhere. It was certainly a wakeup call for me, as I had been scrupulously advertising my "Taint Massage" services on Craigslist. Guess I'll just have to stick with the "Missed Connections" -
You: Blue shirt, Fubu jeans, fly New York Yankees hat on. You were sucking a Dum Dum at the BP station down on Highway 8. I saw you pickin' your nose but it's totally cool, yo. Brotha's gotta clean shit out. Me: Lookin all kinds of sexy with my daisy dukes and a green halter top on. I was lickin' my lips at you from behind the Doritos. Holla' back shorty.But in all seriousness, do you ever really know the person you're with? Everybody has their secrets. And some secrets will never be revealed, whether it be a penchant for punching hookers, a love of stalking and murdering victims on Craigslist, or even an anal obsession involving squeeze cheese. The moral of the story is, everyone needs to be careful out there. It's a crazy world full of even crazier people. Just make sure you truly know the person you're with. Worst case scenario? You could be sleeping next to a monster. Or
Chris.
Worried about whether your man is secretly a Norman Bates incarnate? Here are some important signs that you may need to look out for:
- His nickname among close friends is Dr. Murder
- He takes notes during Law & Order and CSI
- He uses BTK as a verb: "I swear if that dog poops on the carpet again I'm going to BTK his ass"
- (to the tune of
Winter Wonderland) "Walkin' round in women's underweearrrr"
- Speaking of underwear, three words: Blood Stained Panties (that aren't yours)
- His AOL screenname is Likestokillabitch187
- You find a credit card receipt from "The Dead Hooker Motel"
- When he read a book about the Zodiac Killer he laughed incessantly the whole time yelling, "Fools, you'll never find him!"
- You notice a stank smell coming from his basement office. Unless of course he just likes to take the occasional dump in his office, then it's all good.
- He kills squirrels in the backyard and his reasoning for it is "Because those stupid sluts had to die."
- He likes to beat off to the Saw movies.
- His last 5 girlfriends died under "mysterious circumstances" - a.k.a - He axed them hoes.
- His favorite song is "Goodbye Earl" by the Dixie Chicks, and and when he sings the part "'cause Earl had to
DIE" he replaces Earl's name with yours.
- When he goes to the grocery store, instead of writing out a list on paper he carves it into his skin.
- He writes you love letters borrowing the lyrics from creepy love songs: "Baby, it's all I know, that you're half of the flesh and
blood makes me whole."
- Frequently receives suspicious packages from Rapist.com
- You find a cutesy scrapbook titled "Brag Book" with newspaper clippings from a recent local murder spree.
- When reciting your wedding vows, he snickers at "Till death do us part"
- You catch him doing it with a corpse. Always a buzzkill.
- When you take showers together he says "It puts the lotion in the basket or it gets the hose again."
Has your man ever done anything that made you go hmmmmmmm? Ever had a creepy ex boyfriend that would make the guys on death row look like Danny Tanner? You betta' tell a sista in the comments section.
....nice to see ya', it's been a long time, you're just as lovely, as youuuuu used to be. Well actually, you're still pretty heinous. And despite the fact that you have a hatchet face, personality of a wet rag and cottage cheese thighs, my life hasn't been the same without you. Truly, I adore you. It's been forever, and I've decided that it's time for a comeback. Inspired by the fiery phoenix that is Lindsay Lohan, I will pour myself into my patent leather leggings, rock some bulimia, cover my body in spray tan, and rise out of the ashes as if I too had been dumped by my trollish lesbian love. But alas, I haven't, so we will just pretend won't we? Let's pretend her name is Christine, but she goes by Chris. So where have I been hiding out for so long, you ask? Well, like The Linds, I too have been in rehab all of this time. "Gettin' my rehab on," that's what we call it back in L.A. Two long years was all it took. Meth's a real bitch to get rid of. And then after I got better and had all of that cosmetic surgery to hide my track marks and the "Chris Forever" tatoo I got when I was on one of my Meth/Speed combo benders, I decided it was time to become a public figure again. So here I am. Just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her. Oh Julia, you alway put things into perspective.
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