Tuesday, February 28, 2006

My monster got discharged from the aftercare and went home and killed herself. She overdosed on Johnnie Walker Gold, Vicodin, Valium, Percocet, and Compazine. At least she knew enough to drink milk and put a baggie over her face. Her husband found her. His daughter came to tell me. Her funeral is tomorrow. My boss totally doesn't believe me about "all these funerals". I told her to fuck off. Not really. I only said it with my eyes. She backed off.

So that's it. She's gone. Now I'll never know who my sperm donor was. I don't care. I don't care anymore about any of it. I'm totally freaking out my High Priest. He can't believe how calm I am. It's true. I'm numb. I don't want to go to the funeral. My High Priest is making me. He thinks it's important for me to face it. Her freakshow son will be there. I'll bet he'll put on a good show for everybody. He'll cry and talk about Jesus and maybe he'll even throw himself on the coffin.

It's a closed casket. Because of her face. My former stepfreak's daughter keeps trying to meet up with me. She wants to talk about stuff. Like what? We have nothing to talk about. My monster used to be married to her freak. Now it's all done. I hope she doesn't think I'm coming over there to pick through all her shit. I don't want any of it. I don't care.

I've dreamed of this. Literally. I've wished for it for a long time. Sometimes just because I'm so frustrated with her. A lot of times I was seriously looking forward to hearing that she was dead. Now she's dead. Dead. She looked at her face and then she put on her favorite nightgown and got into bed and swallowed all her pills and washed them down with milk and some Jonnie Walker Gold and put a baggie over her head and went to sleep and never woke up.

Fuck it. I so don't care anymore.

Henry played some cool shit tonight. That's all I need. This is why Henry is so cool. You can rely on him. He's always there. His best friend is dead and Henry is still there for him. The guy comes through. He never disappoints. As long as I have Henry and my friends and my High Priest. I know Joe Cole is looking out for me and I don't need that useless fucking cunt in this life or the next. I'm glad she's dead. I'm glad it's over. I'll go to the funeral tomorrow and I'll bury the bitch and that's the end of it. I will not think about her. I will not talk about her. She can't get to me anymore. She's dead.

confessions of The Shadow * 10:10 PM

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Sunday, February 19, 2006

Shag saved my life tonight.

Great. Now I'm like forever in his debt. Jesus God. Why couldn't my High Priest or Ben or Mr. Steve even, why couldn't anyone else but Shag have been there?

Fuck. Now I have to be grateful forever. I swear. Life better start going my way soon. Like right this fucking second. My man comes back tomorrow night. I swear to the God I don't believe in if Shag tries to shove you owe me pie down my throat I will kick his fucking ass myself. Maybe I could push him front of an oncoming train and then save his life at the last second so we'd be even.

I'm too tired to blog. I've been through absolute hell tonight. AND I didn't even get any song warnings. What's up with that shit? Is the Universe not talking to me all of a sudden? Yeah, probably after all the shit I said about the dream.

I'm going to bed. Alone. If anyone needs me, tell them to please fuck off and leave me the hell alone. I needs some me time. And a bubble bath. And a new MAC lipstick. Yeah, pretty much that would make me feel better. After my man gets home, of course.

confessions of The Shadow * 12:53 AM

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Thursday, February 16, 2006

Ben went with me this morning to go see the horror that is my monster. On his only day off he drove with me up to the Plastic Farm. He took me to breakfast first. We ate at Le Creperie and I had a Turkish coffee to shore me up for the walking talking disaster that is my monster. God I hate her so much.

So we got up there and the Barbie doll who runs the place made us sit in the office so she and Ben could discuss my monster's prognosis. She's fucked. Ben went in to see her first. He was in there for about a half hour and then he came out and got me. I didn't want to go in, but Ben the Hero made me. She can't really talk because it's so painful. Her face is all bandaged like a burn victim. My stepfreak and his daughter were in there with her. Ben made them leave when I went in.

She reached her arm out like she wanted me to take her hand. I almost would have except that it's so ugly. She's got these long dragon lady nails and they were painted a frosted pink. She was wearing her stupid Rolex watch that she loves so fucking much with the diamonds instead of numbers and that fucking rock her husband gave her when they got married. It's obnoxious.

I love jewelry. I believe all girls, and some guys, were born to be adorned. I believe 100% in decorating the body. But it should be tastefully. She's just so fucking gross. She's been nipped and tucked and pulled all tight. Her lips have been "amplified" and her tummy has been tucked and her ass and tits have been "enhanced". She's wearing a pair of strappy Manolo's and one of those retarded St. John mini dresses. She's Pam Anderson and Ivana Trump all rolled into one horrible disgusting pig.

It used to gross me out so much when I would be out with her somewhere and all these boozy guys would be checking her out. She's a big fave with all the Middle Eastern and Latin fucks. They love that shit. Asian guys and black men would go apeshit over her. The only guys that don't go for her over the top look are intellectual guys.

Anyway I was in there with her and she couldn't really talk so much because it hurts and she wanted me to hold her hand but I couldn't. I didn't want to touch her. She make me sick. I don't want her nastiness to get on me.

We were in there for a little while. She was just laying there not saying anything and I was just sitting in the chair not saying anything. Then she said my name and it sounded so sad. But it pissed me off.

She fucked herself up and now I'm just supposed to forget about everything and feel sorry for her? I do feel sorry for her. I have for a long time, but this just adds to it. I feel sorry for her that she's so fucked up. I feel bad for her that she's so fucking lost and she has to wake up everyday and be the person she's become and live the fucked up life she's made. She gets as much pity from me as she wants on that point. But just because she's fucked herself up doesn't mean I'm cutting her loose on everything else. Fuck that.

She fucking owes me. She fucking owes me for dragging me all over the fucking planet chasing her boyfriends. She fucking owes me for never staying in a place long enough for me to make any friends. She fucking owes me for leaving me alone all the time. Days and days she would leave me alone locked up in her boyfriend's houses not letting me answer the door or the phone. She fucking owes me for always choosing someone else over me. She fucking owes me for throwing me under the bus when her fucking jewelry got stolen. She fucking owes me for never letting me know who my father is.

I don't care who he is. I don't care if he's some bartender she fucked on a pool table. I don't care if he's some biker speed cook she fucked in a truck stop bathroom. I don't care if he's Steve Tyler. I don't fucking care who he is. I don't care. I just want to know. Just a name. A picture. A description. An explanation. Anything. I don't fucking care. I'm begging for scraps.

I asked her who he is. I thought maybe this whole ordeal would soften her up somehow. She just shook her head no.

Fine. So be it. I've gone too far for her anyway. I said she wouldn't get me again and I caved. Well, it won't happen again. That fucking cow can set her whole body on fire. She won't get to me again.

I'm an orphan. I'm a Sunnyside Orphan.

When I came out of her room Ben didn't say anything. He just took my hand and led me out to the car. He took me to lunch. We didn't say anything about anything. Ben's good like that. He knows when to shut the fuck up and just be there. When we got home just now he went into the bedroom to talk with my High Priest about my monster. I don't know why. I don't give a shit if she lives or dies. I don't care if she looks like a Hiroshima Geisha or a wax apple. I don't give two black shits. I'm an orphan. I have no parents.

I am the Sex Popess of the World. I am all I have. I am all I need.

confessions of The Shadow * 3:19 PM

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Tuesday, February 14, 2006

What a fucking week I've had. Another girl in my program got shot in the face by her boyfriend's dad. What the fuck ever. I'm so sick of this shit. I'm so sick and tired of all this intense bullshit. I feel dirty and evil. I feel like I've seen so much shit that I can't enjoy a nice iced tea anymore. I can't enjoy a beautiful day. My insides are burned to a crisp. I woke up this morning and there's no electricity. It's out in the whole building, but our building is so fucked up I wasn't sure what's going on.

I called my High Priest and he had no power either. He came and got Patty and me and took us all the way to Belmont for breakfast. It was kind of him. We couldn't find Shag so we picked up Rad and he ate with us. Rad has a new Valentine. He's tailoring his red crushed velvet suit for the Silver Fox tonight.

God, now I have to work even more shifts because that stupid ignorant assholic sonofabitch fucktard doesn't know how to clean a gun.

I'm such a bitch.

Happy fucking Valentine's Day. May everyone get what they deserve.

confessions of The Shadow * 2:09 PM

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Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Only Henry can soothe my soul. It's very weak right now. I can't stop thinking about my monster. I didn't see her. I had to leave the clinic in disgust. It's her own damn fault. She didn't listen to her doctor. She probably thought since she's such a frequent flyer that pre-procedure instructions no longer apply to her. Because she's so much more experienced with "beauty enhancing procedures" than her fucking care team that she knows better than they do about what she can and can't do the night before her procedure. God, she's so fucking useless. I don't understand why she's still breathing. Why? Why do people like her and my stepfreak remain alive on the planet when little African babies are wasting away with bellies full of worms? Why, why, why?

God I wish my High Priest would just get home already. He's had to stay longer, too fucking long in Seattle and he needs to come home now and fuck all my pain away. Right now. He needs to just get on a plane and fly down here right now. The plane doesn't even need to land. They can just fly over the building and he can jump out onto the roof. He can come down the side of the building and crawl through the window. I'll sleep in the buff tonight just to make it easy for him.

confessions of The Shadow * 11:00 PM

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Sunday, February 05, 2006

What a crazy fucking week I've had. My so-called stepsib came looking for me. Apparently my monster went in for a New Year, New You laser facial. The guy must've been a newbie. He burned her. She's in a skin clinic now. I just don't know what the fuck to think about that. It's kind of fucked. But it's kind of peotic justice, too.

My stepsib wants me to go see her tomorrow. I'd really rather not. I'm waiting for my High Priest to get back so I can get his thoughts. I had the whole day off today and my evil plan was to totally clean my place and Goth Boy's and then go shopping and just totally get my shit together. But no, monster and company ruined my plans.

Am I a total bitch for not feeling sorry for my monster? I don't know. I just don't feel anything. It's like something I saw on TV. I don't know what to feel. I remember my monster telling me once that when her mother died she was kind of jealous of her because she looked so beautiful. Isn't that fucked? My monster's monster died of a heart condition when she was in college. Oh, did I forget to mention my monster tried going to college? She was only there for the first two years. She joined one of those girl gangs and fucked a bunch of football players and then her monster died so she got pregnant and dropped out.

Anyfuckingway, my monster's monster had a heart condition that made her cyanotic all the time. Her lips would be slightly blue and she was kind of frail and then she finally kicked the bucket. She was on O2 treatments when she was circling the drain, though. Her condition made her ano thin and then at the end all those O2 treatments made her eyes and skin glow and her lips were dark and juicy looking. My monster was totally jealous. But then her monster died and she got a bunch of money and shit and she got married and was well on her way to becoming the fucking nightmare she is today.

If I go see her will it be like those hillbilly fucks who used to go gawk at the circus freaks? Will I have to bring her flowers and whisper that all's forgiven? Can't I just send a fucking card?

God I just wish my High Priest would walk through the door and throw me down and fuck my brains out and then tell me what to do.

confessions of The Shadow * 9:52 PM

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Sunday, January 29, 2006

I just got rid of the last of the stragglers. Everyone ended up back here at the dump after the going away party last night. BG is moving back east again. Whatever. He can go all the way to hell for all I care. I just went to see everyone. It was cool. He was kind of a boring ass because he kept standing up and taking the microphone away for JP. It was kind of lame. It was totally obvious he's a legend in his own mind. I couldn't give less of a shit about all that soap opera stuff. I just went for the party.

It ended up being one of those weird nights where no one goes home. We just went from place to place all the way from Santa Monica to Venice to Redondo to the LBC. The crowd got smaller and smaller until we were back at my place with about ten people. Patty made hot chocolate for everyone and then we talked and talked and finally everyone crashed out. This morning, well noon really, when we all woke up we decided to just get food and chill. We caravaned like a tribe down to the BBC and scared some preppie fucks who were having Sunday Brunch. Then we went vinyl shopping. We lost some of the guys after that. Three of the girls kind of hung out to watch movies and try on some of Patty's new stuff.

It was a nice time after almost two fucking weeks of working straight. Ever since my coworker went through the windshield I've been covering shifts like a workaholic. The money's okay but everything's sliding. It's like I'm in one of those horror movies where the demon is dragging me off to hell and the rest of the world is slipping away from me. I can't grab hold of anything. I can only scream and scratch the air as the demon drags me off to the hellish nightmare that will be more hellish than the nightmare I'm already in. Yeah, kinda just like that.

My house is a mess. Goth Boy's house is a mess. I had to buy new thongs because it's been so fucking long since I did my laundry and I promised Ben I would always wear some kind of panties to work. I don't think I can miss any more school without getting bounced from the program. I can't let that happen. I can't keep going like this, either. Goth Boy has to take a trip to Seattle of all fucking places and I'd love to go. I don't see how I can. Fuck. I feel like I'm losing control of my life.I can't find that fucking book Karin gave me about spiritual balance. I think I may have accidently left it at my stripping class. Drag.

confessions of The Shadow * 9:49 PM

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