ahem...

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...THE CUNTS ARE GONE! THE CUNTS ARE GONE! THE MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS ARE MOTHERFUCKING GONE!!!!! Of course there shall be a beautiful party and there will be a quiet moment during which the lights shall be dimmed and everyone present shall recount their fondest memories of said Motherfucking Cunts. Possibly candlelit...? Everything is love.

Actual proof that God exists...

The druggie bitch has a urinary tract infection. I am now a true believer, someone say Hallelujah.

Also...

These fucking cunts are using that fucking cutesy talking-to-doggie voice. No fucking jury would convict me...

Yo no quiero stupid models.

There is now a Chihuahua in my, already small apartment. Why? Well, one guess...because both cats died from malnutrition? Nope, they're both still here and sufficiently terrified of said Chihuahua. Because I finally snapped and killed the cats and this is the way the ditz twins are dealing with the grief? Nope, simple celled organisms such as moss, fungus and my roommates have neither the brain nor ability for emotional capacity. Then why, why is there a mother fucker Chihuahua in my, already small apartment? Well, I'll tell you why...because my stupid fucking roommates think that a DOG will be easier to take care of than TWO FUCKING CATS! And why am I not completely fine with the idea of sharing this already small apartment with two cats, two fucking morons AND a fucking Chihuahua? Quite simply because I've seen them mistreat, neglect and abuse their "precious little kitty wuckums" and can't wait 'til the first weekend these dumb cunts go away (Flouncy to fuck some Bolivian drug lord and his bastard children all over the country and the other to pine away in upstate New York or fucking Jersey about the bisexual mindfucker who used to fuck her silly and now wants to move on and how he's breaking her stupid fucking heart and not knowing it) and come back to find all three pets dead because...huh? What? We need to give these little hairy walking people food? And...what? Water? But I left an ashtray full of smoldering roaches for them to enjoy? How stupid can two cats and a Chihuahua get? Trust me, you filthy sluts, not nearly as stupid as you two.
Now you out there might be asking yourself, "Yo, Flouncy should be drawn and quartered...but why the hateration for the other one?" I'll tell ya...the reason I've come to hate this mopey druncunt (made that one myself) is because, besides the fact that she mopey 24 hours a day and drunk 7 nights a week (and was heard to say, IN EARNEST during her experimental 'week of sobriety' while smoking pot..."At least it's not alcohol!!") and promised to get professional help if her week without pissing it up didn't work (it didn't, she didn't)...she is a spineless jelly fish. Redundant? Yes. Clear how spineless she is? You betcha. You spend five minutes with this blade of grass and you can convince her, seriously CONVINCE her to believe ANYTHING. And since Flouncy is the stupid one and the other is the weak one...well I'm sure you can all see how bad of a combination weakness and stupidity is. I swear to Christ that I'm starting to understand why Hitler felt this "urge to purge" if you will. Maybe he roomed with a model and a weak-willed alcoholic and tried to start a culling of THEIR kind but then found that they had all died from natural selection so he was just going to maybe kill his roommates until one day, a Jewish art critic called him a fag and that set him off. I have a funny feeling though, that his model roommate asked her Jewish art critic friend to come over and take a look at her roommate's stuff...hence, it's the models' fault we had the Holocaust. Damn, yet another reason to hate this ball of hair and drugs and slurred speech.
And by the way, I do like the Chihuahua, but I don't like the idea that I will be the one responsible for it and that if I don't take care of the poor unprepared thing is going to die and that these dumb bitches won't clean it up because they're too busy smoking pot, snorting coke, fucking bisexuals, weeping, flouncing or just existing on that plane somewhere between the ashtrays that are scattered about my apartment and the dry shit on the ass of our new Chihuahua (named Karma).
Finally, I think they think the Chihuahua is already here to stay, so if any of you want a housetrained Chihuahua who actually doesn't yip and shake like an invalid, let me know so I can just give it to you one night when they're out getting pumped by scummy drug mules who need put their seed in something dirty.

Why can't this moment last forever...?

About two weeks ago, Flouncy McCunt left for some other country. She said she was returning last Thursday. When I got a call from my good roommate with the news that she wouldn't be returning 'til Sunday, it felt like my Birthday. And then, Sunday night when I got ANOTHER call letting me know that she'd be home on Thursday, I felt like Jesus (my Birthday and Christmas all at the same time) and now that it's Wednesday afternoon...I am in a definite funk at her (possible) arrival tomorrow. I suppose I could find out what flight she's on then keep calling bomb threats until she just gives up and stays wherever the fuck she is now. In her absence, the apartment has remained clean even after a 12 person party-type thing. Things have been rearranged and reorganized and, most importantly MAINTAINED...all just waiting for this dirty (in EVERY sense of the word) cunt to come back flouncing with coke and vapid stories about her and her vapid friends doing ALL SORTS of crazy drugs! Silly twat. She thinks that just because she survived cancer she can live out the rest of her days in a drug/booze/stupidity induced stupor. I know someone else who beat cancer and they aren't walking, talking barrels of toxic waste like this bitch wad. Is it because she's British? No, because I've never seen James Bond act this way. Jesus, didn't the British fucking INVENT decorum (the act of, not the word)?? If so, they should be informed just how stupid she is making that WHOLE ISLAND look. I recently had a dream where she was beautiful and completely unaddled by drugs or anything and I woke feeling sorry for her, but not any less hateful. Drugs don't approach people, people approach drugs. You don't just wake up a waste of skin and blood, it's a gradual process. As long as she doesn't talk to me ever again, I'll never mention her again. Fair enough? Good. Fucking limey cooze...

If ever there was cause to update my journal...

Wow! I have just got to tell everyone about this!!! I just got back from a trip to NEW JERSEY!!! There were rides and taffy and funnel cake and sand and LOTS f water...SEA WATER!!!!!AND IT WAS SUPER!!!!!........and that's it.....nothing else.......yup....nothing out of the ordinary else.........just as normal as normal can be.........yep..........uh........mm hmm........nothing else to be said...........uh........ah............aaaaarrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! THE MODEL JUST BURST IN AND TOLD ME SHE JUST GAVE HER FIRST BLOW JOB IN A TAXI CAB AND THAT SHE CAME HOME A FEW DAYS AGO TO MY OTHER ROOMMATE AND TWO FRIENDS OF HERS NAKED AND HAVING A THREESOME!!!!!!.......but that's it....nothing else. Ahem. Uh, th-thank you.

ahem...

flounce1 (flouns)
n.
A strip of decorative, usually gathered or pleated material attached by one edge, as on a garment or curtain.

tr.v. flounced, flounc·ing, flounc·es
To trim with a strip or strips of gathered or pleated material.

[Alteration of frounce, from Middle English, pleat, from Old French fronce, of Germanic origin. See sker-2 in Indo-European Roots.]

flounce2 (flouns)
intr.v. flounced, flounc·ing, flounc·es

1. To move in a lively or bouncy manner: The children flounced around the room in their costumes.
2. To move with exaggerated or affected motions: flounced petulantly out of the house.
3. To move clumsily; flounder.

Okay, I wanted to start with a definition. The key to this entry is the word and action "flounce" (specifically the third meaning of the second definition, in fact disregard the strip of fabric thing). As I mentioned before, I think, I am now living in an apartment on the
Upper East Side of Manhattan. I am living with two girls, one of which is the subject and reason of this update.
Her name is Flouncy the Tart, let's say. She is/was an actress/model. At this moment, she is flouncing around the apartment deciding what clothes she's going to bring to Neverland. For those that don't know, Neverland is Mr. Michael Jackson's private home/amusement park. How she got the invite? Well, she says that some guy who got the invitation just couldn't go and gave it to her. My thoughts on how she got it? She went to bed with this guy and she took so much of his stain into her system (mouth, vagina and anus) that he felt she had earned a door prize. But I'm looking at the small picture, let me let you in on the big picture of why I am slandering this actress/model/anal feind...(here comes the laundry list) She's never here, when she is she's complaining that the place is a mess because it hasn't been cleaned since the last time she made the fucking mess, she owns a cat who is never fed by her because she's never here, she brags about things that just aren't true, she's a starfucker, literally, she does massive amounts of drugs (coke, E, pot, who KNOWS what the fuck else), she's an idiot (although I can blame that on breeding), she's British, she's messy, she's dirty, she's a whore, she is utterly helpless, she slurs her words terribly (making the whole British race sillier in my mind), she bursts into the apartment (once every week) to make a mess, change her clothes, do a line, SPEAK IN BABY TALK TO HER FUCKING CAT ALTHOUGH NOT GIVING IT ANY FOOD OR ATTENTION, FLOUNCE around muttering that her life is SOOOOO tough because she can't find her other $900 pair of shoes because the first $900 pair of shoes is TOO last week to be seen where she's going (which is usually to bed with someone famous so she can feel important), she has over her friends (as vacant as the library in her hometown) and they ALL flounce around the fucking place making a mess, doing drugs, talking on their cell phones, LEAVING MY GODDAMN DVD'S ALL OVER THE PLACE, she finishes food that isn't hers, she doesn't buy food that anyone else wants then offers it freely, she uses a WHOLE ROLL OF TOILET PAPER every time she goes into the bathroom, SHE ATE MY SALT AND VINEGAR PRINGLES AND DRANK MY FUCKING VANILLA COKE! and finally...she shaved her pubic hair OVER THE BATHROOM SINK, DIDN'T CLEAN IT OUT, THEN FUCKING LEFT HER RAZOR IN THE CUP I KEEP MY TOOTHBRUSH IN!!!!!!! One of the very worst things she has ever done, however was convince me that she doesn't like this lifestyle she's leading. Little did I know that as she was saying this, she was ready to head out for a week or two of casual sex with dirty stars, drug use and flouncing. One of these days, she's going to be in company worse than usual and then she's probably going to be raped or killed or just allowed to flounce in front of a bullet train on a weekend jaunt to Tokyo or something. The novelty of living with an actress/model has worn off. If anyone would be interested in killing her and moving in, just let me know. Rent's good.

Guess who's not dead...

Forget it, it's me, I'm not dead. I'm here. Where is here you might ask? My new apartment on the upper east side. I'm all in except for a few little details. I'm living with two random chicks; Melissa (late 20's, 6'1, British, model, was in James Bond's Goldeneye) and Andrea (early 20's, less than 6'1, Jerseian, was in a Girls Gone Wild DVD Mardi Gras 2001). Yes, I know what you're thinking:...Actually, no I don't, I really have nothing. Nevermind. Sorry to be so presumptuous. God, I'm such an asshole. Eh. Uh. Done. I am a human head.