to narrow things down

old people are awful.

i will one day be old, barring active actions to prevent that possibility on my part.

but one day, i'll probably be old (or dead).

but let's consider the old one, sammy, and hey, while we're at it, maybe stop being a jerk for once!

anyway,

old people.  why do they always like, fuck young children, and hate foreigners, and think gay people cause hurricanes?

seriously, if i could make hurricanes, you'd fucking know it.  i'd be just like, "oh, is it hurricane season?"

"no, sammy, it's christmas"

"OOPS, MOTHERFUCKING HURRICANE SHITTING IN YOUR FACE, JACKASSES@!"

really.  i'd be calling down the storms on all the fuckers.  but no, we're not magic witches with super powers.  that'd seriously be super cool.  i could write stories about that for years.

ok

breathe.


so hey, did you see me fucking panic my ass off on friday night?

no?  oh, that's because i sent that all to the place no one else can see.  here's how things worked.


i had a shitty week at work.

followed by a super shitty friday.

so i went home.


and remember how months ago i told you how i outsmarted my anxiety about having dinner by putting frozen dinners i liked in my freezer?

yeah.  i decided i didn't like any of those.

"get some pizza."

i didn't want pizza.



"sammy, i'm not getting what your point is here, so"

SHUT UP!

i always like pizza.  pizza is like my best friend who never tells me i'm a drunk.  pizza and vodka.  the three of us are super tight, yo.

so me sitting in my car, thinking about food, and pizza doesn't turn me on?  this is a fucking existential challenge.  who am i if i don't want pizza?

i love a tumblr about pizza and porn.  it's like someone kissed my tears away and in doing so, made my perfect happy land.

so i'm sitting there, hating the horrors of frozen food, and also not wanting pizza.  i drive mindlessly, eventually pulling into taco bell.

taco bell, "we're sorry you're here too, but at least we have some nacho cheese.  we hope that helps."

it did.  as much as tbell can do.  you're not magic, tacos.  and quesadillas.  and those quesadilla burrito things that look like so much work i can't imagine they're not full of spit.

so, hey.  that's how my friday went, and that's why you might have seen me writing tumblr posts about drunk driving to denny's on the other side of the island.

"don't drive drunk, sammy, that's how murder happens!"

duh.  i was angry because i was so drunk i couldn't go eat food that would totally give me super shitty runs.  i may hate myself (and a lot of other people), but i'm not going to put everyone in risk of me running them over.  i'm not a monster.

what was my other point?


honestly, there was a whole rant to put here about brown food.  not like "sammy, you're gross and like scat, stop being gross."  it was about how frozen/microwave food isn't brown.  you for-realsies cook food until it's brown, so it has that "brown flavor".  so you know it's good.  that's better than what i cobble together.

which makes me sad for the days when my brain was organized enough to actually sit down and cook for myself.  i did a bit on that last vacation.  it was good and brown, and i hate that i can't get my brain to work right so much of the time.

"sammy, you should get helpers!"

so, what i need is like a 1950's wife.  someone who lives at home while i go do work shit, and makes sure we don't get bugs (too late) or live in filth (too late) and makes sure i don't run out of clean clothes (it only counts if you get caught).  i think maybe i make enough to pay people to do those things?  how much does a fake wife cost?  do you have to pay more or less if you give them hugs?


what else is on the "you should talk to a therapist sooner than next month, sammy" list?

oh!  i wrote some more.  do you all remember "spa treatment"?  no?  you should look it up from a year ago when i totally stopped writing anything on it.  i put in a third of a half of a chapter, which means i need to stop masturbating to my own stories.  also, maybe lookup pipelining on gelbooru.  i'll do a link when it's closer.  but like, check out the concept to make sure you're on board before you start reading.

it's kind of hard when you write things and rub yourself raw, and then remember that most people would be disgusted by what you come up with.  i'm sorry, everyone.  i'm super sorry people who have said nice things about me.  i wish i was a better person than i am.


i kind of wish i had a taco right now.


i'm...sorry. :(

"You cannot modify more than 50 entries at once."

oh come on, you stupid thing.  first you're all "In the coming weeks, we'll no longer allow blogs that contain sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video. We'll still allow nudity presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or  where there are other substantial benefits to the public from not taking  action on the content."

so instead of eating dinner, i'm looking through old posts to find which ones have images and video that aren't ok now, and then setting them to draft so you don't delete everything like you did last time.

but i can't change more than 50 at once?  then why even have an option to see 100 posts at a time, blogger?  why is that a possibility if i can't actually do anything?

i think i have everything set to draft mode now, so hopefully i won't have my second blog deleted.  i also had to take down Mr. Sador's art that i've been using as a title thing.  however, i don't know how to change the title text, so it's hidden in the background color.  crap.

i'm guessing my videos are ok, since they're all youtube embeds.  is youtube legal, blogger?

if anyone sees something that looks like i should probably get rid of it, put a comment on it, and i'll fix it that way.

i can't quite figure out if fiction is now illegal too.  i'm going to assume it's ok, as long as there aren't images.  that's what hte email says.  still, everyone should probably remember my tumblr, just in case this all disappears.  i don't want to switch to there completely, because i really don't like the tumblr editor thingy.


so yeah.  thanks for taking an already shitty monday, and making it even shittier, blogger.
:(

because maybe some people don't know they're wrong?

like....all this shit, right?

i hate holidays.

when i was little, it wasn't so bad.  i'd make impossible stupid lists of shit that i wanted for christmas, i'd get a tenth of that, some clothes, some books, and some candy or something, and it'd all work out ok, because when you're a kid, candy and a doll can make any day the best day ever.

then, slowly, it kind of all seemed to rot.  i could hear my parents talking, so i made my list shorter, and filtered out things that seemed too expensive.  i tried to ask for things that didn't just look cool, but that seemed like they'd be fun to play with (so no more rock tumbler, because it turns out you can't just glue them to string and make a necklace).

[i maybe have told this story, but whatever, it's the time of year everyone listens to stupid shit songs they've heard since they were 4.  i get to repeat occasionally if i want to.]

when i was in middle school, i think, we had gotten to the end of christmas, and had our regular ham for lunch, and my grandparents were going to go home.  bachan was getting her purse and everything ready, and it hit me.   she'd gotten one gift.  i had this pile of junk that i thought was important, and she had a tiny bottle of perfume.

christ.  i wish i knew what it was.  she always put on the same scent when she thought she was going out to someplace fancy.  like a movie.  or dinner at a restaurant.  like, shit that you and i would be like, "well, i guess maybe i should put on pants to go there."  she'd break out the makeup and perfume, and i can kind of force my brain to pretend it can smell it, but i know it's not right.  and now i'm crying again.

but i had a pile of shit, and she was happy with one thing and some ham.  all i could think was, "what the fuck is wrong with me that i would think this is fair?"

and now, i'm all grown up and shit.  bachan isn't here anymore, and she'd probably tell me i was dumb for saying stuff like this now.  or she'd be distracted like she was for the last few years.  fuckgin.  why can't i free associate stuff like this when i have a therapist to talk to?

but i'm skipping the family get together this year.  i've claimed "i've got stuff to do for work," and "my boss is a jerk," but that's not true.  that's not at all true.  the real reason is that i'm uncomfrotable with them.  there's the usual social anxiety that probably isn't how you're supposed to feel around your family.  then there's the like...success guilt?

is that a thing?

i mean, if i were to go home and see them, and eat ham and do all the stuff, i'd be sitting there knowing that i make more money than everyone else there.  combined.  how can i possibly make it right and make sure they're not going home with one thing?  i already don't visit much, so when i do, i get fruits and books, and "oh, sammy, you like this, right?" things.  so that on top of, "here, sammy, have this!"

i'm sure you're all like, "damnit, sammy, they're your family.  they're not going to be counting items and summing receipts."  i don't care.  i can do it.  fuck "can."  "automatically do it because my brain is a fucking asshole who can't keep out of shit."  this is worse, i think.  i can come up with far more scenarios in which i annoy people than they can possibly reassure me about.

ok, i'm losing ttrack of the thread here.  holidays.  i'm breaking from the usual stress, and that's a new level of guilt-stress.

and i'm doing new years with my friend i went to visit for thanksgiving.  she was doing well, but then economy and jobs and now i guess her husband is unemployed?  so.  i guess i'll be playing legos with her 2-year old.  at least her demands are simple.  "daniel tiger!"  "LET IT GO!"

sigh.  why can't everyone just be like, "let's watch daniel tiger and then frozen songs on loop for three hours?"  i wouldn't be the crazy mess i am, i bet.  i'd be in a nice relationship, where we'd both get home from work, look at each other, and just be like, "Chocolate!"

and i guess this song is actually by wham?  i've only heard that one and another two jpop covers, so i never knew before now.

"you're drifting again, sammy"

ok, let's close up this rambley mess.  i'm unhappy.  the world sucks, and people murder and steal from other people all the time, for no other reason than they can't accept that everyone deserves the same treatment and life.  there's nothing i can do about this.  there's also nothing i can do about the fact that i'm terrified of everyone i meet, because my stupid brain can't ever forget anything that happens, and i assume other people remember those stupid embarassing things i say and do all the time.  i don't think this will ever get better, and i'm afraid it'll just grow until i get to the point where i can't cope with the echoing madness of long forgotten events and slice myself open in the tub.

so...

um...

i hope you have happy holidays?  i'll probably be back for a drunken christmas eve thing, and then not again until after the new year.  sorry.

sorry for everything.

sorry for not writing faster than i do.

sorry for being weird over email.

sorry for being weird in general.

i know you probably don't hate me, because you wouldn't be here reading this if you did.

i'm sorry that i'm sorry about that.

huh. that was weird

The Tales of Gnosis College.

i found an image on motherless, i looked for the author/artist names on google, and found that.  i was not expecting porn on internet archive.  i guess the guy put it there?

i'm not even going to try to explain what's going on.  it's not really "good," but it's definitely "interesting."

read volume 2 if you want a quick look.  it's really the most porn-y of them all, with a minimum of the weird crazy backstory stuff that doesn't really work for me.  and definitely stick through it to chapter 5 towards the end for the story that made me read the other parts that come after (they're not as good).

i'm going to tag things i saw, and you'll just have to accept that i don't have tags for all the weird stuff.

holy shit

did you know they have pillow cases with pockets for the pillow?  like, you put the pillow in, then you pull the pocket over, and the pillow stays in the case because of the pocket.

i just discovered my new sheets did that.  that's brilliant.   why isn't this on all pillows?  i hate waking up with my face on just pillow.  this like locks them in.


anyway.

new story idea (because of something someone said), so i'm plotting it out.  i'm thinking of doing a super short update to "exhibition," and so maybe that'll get a sequel at some point?

work sucks, life sucks, feeling slightly less crazy than usual.  go me.

just.

pillow case pockets.

wonderful.

this should have been a full post

so i guess literotica published this one, and my first comment was:

'Pointless drivel. The reader was tortured more than the "pet"'

i really hope literotica keeps that one. i want everyone to be able to read that, and see what kind of jerk this "anonymous" is. i mean, what kind of name is that, anyway?

really, i wish i knew who that was so i could fuck with them. send them pictures of my arm bleeding all over. "i did this because i know what a joke the universe is. do you think your anger at me makes any difference in the cosmic nothingness we'll all return to?"

today was a good day, because i'm totally sick, and that means i can stay home from work tomorrow and watch tv in my pjs on the couch. and eat pizza. i am as close to invincible tonight as can exist in this world.

also, i've taken a powerful narcotic anti-cough medicine. i may also be invincible because i'm Isis, mother of Horus.

that's...you type it out, and it suddenly seems less likely. so, probably just the drugs now.

this should have been a full post.

hey, whoa? i'm not coughing anymore!

cool!