Laughing All The Way

This is my independance day: To the women who know that this is for them, this is for you.

I read the first paragraph of another’s blog and a flash of words washed over me an instance ago. It is time for a manifesto.

I deserved better. I’ve been tamped down to fit the shape of a person that looks just like me. I’ve been pushed around, thrust out, held over, tied down, bound in, thrown up, lied to and generally maligned in not nice ways.

We all deserved better.

The women who write out their lives with bold choices and menacing decisiveness, we all deserve something more. The more I read, the more I know, we are being let down by a swarming them. The promises they told us were so shallow the concussions are unavoidable; we do jump right in believing the depth. It’s not there for the taking, the future that is. The letter and words we learned so well only set us up for a failure, because we are different. No separate but equal, only separate.

My cake has gone stale and now I am just hungry, proving the old adage true once again. It’s better to just eat, be fulfilled, have the experience in the palm of your hand and coat your fingers with a sticky sweet sugar frosting (always superior to butter-cream) and shove a fistful of life down your throat. Don’t worry about the caloric intake, we can always purge later. Everything is later.

The stories of stalking and trolling and fuckity fuck fucked men flexing their puny muscles (dicks) are closing in on me. I am not without my own brush with bad behavior. Fuck you for being like that, but you know what, no one is in the least bit surprised. You want to be some sad little boy throwing mud, go ahead, you’d be surprised at how easily I clean off and sparkle. You’re not the first and won’t be the last.

Also, the fucking google searches that find me, I know okay. I know. Stop being such a fuck head. God I had hated you so much and now I can’t even remember why I even bothered to waste all that time and emotion. Gah, I hate being so caught up in idiocy that is so sad and predictable. Hear that fucker, you are sad and predictable.

And a pretty pathetic example of a human being, if you ask me. 

My captcha is “given.”  As in, “It’s a given.”

xxx

Whoa.  My captcha is “red.”  As in “seeing red.”

I don’t have a captcha.

Maybe that’s my problem.

Captcha is key. I am working on my captcha list to better reflect the Some Girl-ness of my site. The captcha list also seems to be a bit touched with “the eye”. Captcha works in mysterious ways.

Also it stops the spam from leaving comments about breast/penis/brain enlargement supplements.

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