Bad Lisa

My father has a best friend.  She is a kind Italian woman.  This woman has one son.  He is her only child.  Unfortunately he is a herion addict.

Her life has been a series of highs and lows with her son.  He’s an adult child yet still she has to look after him as if he were an infant.

I have a son.  I could not imagine the kind of life I would have if my son grew up to become a drug addict.  I do worry about him, since his father is a drug addict.  I’ve seen drug addiction first hand with my ex husband.  I’ve dealt with the pain, the guilt, the enabling, and finally the tough love.  In the end although I care for him in a detached way, I really think only death will bring him peace.

I wrote this blog tonight because I had almost forgotten the pain of dealing with drug addiction.  You see, today my fathers best friend came to visit us.  She was so happy she was able to have her grandson with her.  His name is Michael and he lives in florida with his mother.  He is her son’s only child.

Michael does not live the life my children do.  My children are spoiled with all the world has too offer and so much love they take it for granted.  Today my children learned a lesson.

Michael came to visit my father with his grandmother.  He is my son’s age so they play together when he comes to visit.  Today my son brought Michael to my home.  He wanted to show Michael his favorite toys.

Little did we know that Micheal had recently lost everything he had.

One morning when he woke up he found all of his toys and his video games that his grandmother had brought him were gone.  His mother told him they had been robbed.  Michael was left with nothing.  He had no idea all of the things he found precious had been taken by his own parents and sold for drugs.  They looked that little boy in the eyes and lied to him.  They saw his pain yet their needs were stronger.  Drugs took priority over a little boys heart.

Michael was amazed by what my son had.  He couldnt stop talking about it.  He wanted to play with everything.  My son, being the kind hearted little shit he is gave Michael his prize posessions to play with.  His star wars figures.

Michael was only in the house for a short time, but when he left he left something that could have damaged my son forever.  When he was gone, so were my son’s prized Star wars figures.

Tears flowed while my son told me they were missing.

My heart broke.

I felt angry. I hate thieves.

I made a call to my father to see if he could get them back.

Then I took a deep breath and remembered what that child had lost.

Not only was he missing the pure love of both of his parents, he has lost the things that had taken their place and meant the most to him.  It was wrong but he was not to blame.

I called my father back and told him to approach Michael as if he had misplaced them.  And if he had we would understand.  He still denied taking them.  My son was devistated but I felt something else.

I explained to my son what life is like for Michael.  How he had everything that meant the world to him just taken.  How he goes to bed hungry every night and no one cares.  How he has no one to hold him when he feels bad.  How he cannot feel safe in his own home.

My son thought about it for a minute.

And his huge blue eyes filled with tears.

He no longer cared about his star wars figures. He cared about a little boy lost.

I suggested that since my son had so much and he could not even play in his room because of all the toys that maybe we should gather up things that he no longer played with and give them to Michael.  To my surprise he was excited to do it.  He ran to his room and started a huge pile of what will be our donation to this little boy who has nothing.

My son is an angel.

Not only did he show me that he can have compassion for someone during their worst time, he showed me that I as a mom had done the right job teaching him.  I raised him, alone, to show more compassion then most grown ups I know.  He is a giver.

Later as he laid on my bed watching t.v. he said to me, “mom, I want to get more things together for Michael.  For some reason it feels weird, but good inside my tummy to do it.”

I have no doubt my son will grow to be a wonderful man.  He is a beautiful child inside and out.

I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing with him.

I am not a perfect mother, but I am a good mother.

Never take your children for granted.  They are the seeds of tomorrow.

Plant them, nurture them, and love them.

They will grow to be the best crop of society we have ever seen.

So street walker the good girl christian has posted a sympathy blog to try to make me look bad again.  She is getting more and more like super scabs as the days go by.  I guess a few doses of jabs jizz and it makes women not only infected with venerial disease, it also makes them even more stupid then they originally were.

So just to clarify a few things, Daywalker is only deleting one of her profiles you idiots.  She has another exact same profile page still on myspace.  She made no mention of deleting that one.  There are two reasons she is deleting her primary one.  First she is paranoid that there are “spies” on her page!  Proving again she is a delusional fucktard.  Spies or not nothing is private or sacred on a public site.  Anyone who believes that is true probably still believes in Santa Clause.

The number two reason, and the one that is the most important is because wonderful nightcrawler has started to piss off her friends in the real world outside of myspace.  Yes she is making quite a name for herself in her real life.  So much so that during her 4th of July party at her own house she got her ass literally beat by a friend of her’s who could no longer take her unethical bullshit.  Funny how she didnt mention that she got beat up over the weekend in her blog slamming me huh?  I will not be her scape goat. Tell the truth Jamie!  And even better, make one of your famous u-tube videos of it!  I for one would love to see your mangled face in real time.

Late on Saturday night I recieved a message from someone I didnt know but was a close friend of daytramp outside of myspace.  This message was again unsolicited by myself.  But you can bet your sweet ass I was happy to get it.  I always enjoy when liars get their just desserts!

I have removed the senders name for her own privacy and protection, and other personal information she spoke of, but I’m sure good old daysucker knows exactly who kicked her ass.  That is unless the whore was too drunk to remember it.

—————– Original Message —————–
From: xxx
Date: Jul 4, 2008 11:49 PM

I just punched the fuck outta Daywalker at her BBQ, her house… NOT for you… NOT for myspace. I’m a real life friend of hers. She pushed the ethical limits!! Swung at me. I took her out!

—————– Original Message —————–
From: ..Lisa Lewd is having multiple clowngasms..
Date: Jul 5, 2008 12:15 AM

No way!!! Oh hell girl you are my hero!

—————– Original Message —————–
From: xxx.
Date: Jul 4, 2008 9:54 PM

I really don’t want to go into details.

She just fricken pushed it with me and I had to put her down!!

I’m not into this drama. I don’t know Jabs.

I don’t know the blog scene.

I know her in real life and xxx is my best friend.

I’m a nobody on myspace.

Daywalker is upset by this whole Jabs and Lisa shit.. and I have to say it IS shit… DRAMA. I don’t watch soap operas for a reason.

I don’t READ it, I hear about it in real life.

I admire the fact that you stood up and said that xxx knows Jabs personally and let’s not put him in the middle of it.

THAT is when you gained my respect and reading her statement about your children being better off if you died… blew my mind!! I NEVER would have expected that out of her or anyone else. NOT ACCEPTABLE!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK this dumbass myspace drama! I feel like I’m back in middle school.

I only told you about the tossin’ because I think after what she said about your children, it might bring you a peaceful weekend.

Do NOT ask me why I did it. I won’t tell you. MY business for MY reasons.

Just take a smile that someone did.

Read my ONLY two blogs, you’ll get a feel of me and why I feel that STUPID can’t be fixed!!

May give you insight into why I did what I did….

Gee daystalker, it seems to me that you have made more then a few enemies along the way.  Why dont you start telling the truth and stop blaming me for all of your problems?  Too bad for you there are good people out there who wont stand for your bullshit and want the truth to be known.  I did nothing to you cunt.  You brought me into your useless life to protect a scumbag who used you and tossed you aside like the filth you are.  Now because you have pissed off so many people you are going to try and make it look like you have to leave myspace because of me.   Try the christian way of doing things and learn to speak the truth.  The true shall set your free you dirty hooker.

So recently the self proclaimed God of myspace, super syphilis, has made public statements that he is turning over a new leaf.  His mindless followers were in awe of this new and improved Ted! They flocked to his blog giving high fives of encouragement!  They were so proud of fat boy!

Little did the shit eaters know that this was yet again another ploy to feed the masses what they wanted to hear to pump himself up to myspace celebrity status.

Here is the truth about this disease spreading wonder.  I was going to include a discount ticket with this blog to your local V.D. clinic for the stupid whores that have nursed from his tiny dick but then I decided against it.  Anyone who has the lack of self respect to fuck this moron is on their own.  You deserve what is growing in your system.  Let it be a constant reminder that you are a pig of the lowest form.

The following is a little peek into super syphilis’s messages to me. Showing he has no intention of changing.  And is now trying to destroy the Clark and Bad Lisa blog talk show.  I guess the fact that our show is more popular then his is too much for this sick obsessed stalker can handle.

From: ..SUPER JABS is BACK!..
Date: Jul 3, 2008 10:58 AM

What do you say we end this?

There is plenty of room out there for everyone. I don’t even remember how this all started anymore. But one thing is for sure.. Nothing good is coming of “us” and there seems to be no end in sight.

I am trying to get a Myspace station started on BTR

Your show could do really well there.

Or we can continue…

My reply:
Why would I be a part of your myspace radio show?

I’m going to start my own now! Thanks for the good idea. And since I have way more friends then you at blog talk mine will beat yours just like my Clark and Bad Lisa show beats your blow your infected load show.

Oh and your face looks really fat in that picture. You don’t photograph well do you?
xx

From: ..SUPER JABS is BACK!..
Date: Jul 4, 2008 3:18 AM

I didn’t say you’d be part of my show.

I am starting a channel that will stream all shows from Myspace with BTR.

You don’t want to stop do you?

My reply:
—————– Original Message —————–
From: ..Lisa Lewd is having multiple clowngasms..
Date: 04 Jul 2008, 13:38

Stop what Ted? Really. What is it that you want me to stop doing?

Do you want me to stop telling the truth about you?

Do you want me to stop disliking you?

Do you want me to stop thinking you are skum?

Do you want me to stop being more popular then you?

What exactly is it you want me to stop?

Why don’t you stop being an asshole and maybe people would actually like you for real. Maybe you could be an actual contributing member of society.

You have burned a lot of bridges so I wouldn’t expect miracles if I was you. But maybe you could make real friends in the future with people who don’t know your past.

From: ..SUPER JABS is BACK!..
Date: Jul 4, 2008 1:49 PM

This was hysterical.

You think this is about popularity? How old are you? 6? I offered an olive branch. You came at me with guns blazing and I am still here. Contribute? How? Like you who’s sole mission is to defame anyone with any kind of popularity?

Lisa… we aren’t even in the same category. You need to mention those that threaten you to make an impact… the rest of us just live and blog about it…

I know they last couple of days have been rough. Blogtalk contacting you, your blogs getting deleted, my page coming back… The way you and your friends have paniced is legendary. Look at my page… I have accepted 400 friend requests in the last day. The harder you try, the mosre eyes you send my way.

Good luch being more popular than me… I guess that’s your goal.

This was my last offer.

My reply:

I brought up popularity because of your obnoxious stunt on poor jersey girls show. See what a douche you are? No one can talk to you. You are too retarded to understand anything. Maybe you were a fetal alcohol syndrome baby because of the alcohol use in your parents who knows. All I know is your fat head is so thick I’m surprised you made it out of grade school…if you actually did anyway.

Blog talk never contacted me cunt. Don’t get your hopes up. And keep trying to fuck with my show and I swear to god I will make sure you will regret it. I’d hate to have your daughter taken in child custody but I will if I have to. Save this message, and show it to everyone cause it’s a promise baby.

Go fuck yourself. Your offers mean nothing to me or anyone else that knows you and hates your disease ridden guts.

Stop stalking me. Your obsession with me is bordering on criminal.

Is it just me or does it seem like super syphilis has way too much time on his hands?  Well if you answered yes to this question you are right.  Would you like to know why he does?  Well Bad Lisa has the answer!
A week or so back I was contacted out of the blue by someone who knows him.  Another person who has seen through this fat bastard’s cloud of smelly bullshit.  Keep in mind that this information was unsolicited from myself.

I am withholding the identity of this person for various reasons. A good journalist never reveals their sources.  Enjoy!

Date: Jun 28, 2008 12:37 PM

Subject:

RE: You and I hate the same person

Yeah where do you want me to start.

Jabs hasn’t had a job in a year. He has been skipping from friend’s house to friend’s house. He has done some odd jobs for friends that have money. Apparently he asked Jillian if he could move in and she laughed at him.

He got fired from his advertising job at a local tv station because of his online usage.

Not to mention he has been begging one of my friends for an online TV gig and was refused because the website looked and his content and listened to his show… They said it was horrible and had no mass appeal.

Also I have IM conversations with him logged that make him look like a total asshole.

So… whatever you need let me know.

Did you know he used to get Princess Ivonne to call into his radio show under different names in order to make the show look popular?

Yeah… anyways…

I am happy to hear about his profile deleted. I have got it nuked twice. If you need  techniques on how to do it let me know.

I used to fake him flooding groups and say he was a spammer by creating screenshots

yeah let me sort through what I have… I will round it up over the next couple of days.

Well I’ll be god damned!  Proof that I had nothing to do with this fucker getting deleted!  It was just another person who hates his fucking guts!!  Suck that one Teddy boy!

The information on this loser keeps flooding in.  My inbox hasn’t seen this much action since the last orgy I attended!

Now for all of you who still want to believe there is any good in this idiot I have to say I pity you  Do yourself a favor and see a shrink.   They are doing wonderful things these days with lithium cocktails.

More to come fuckers.

The owner of Strokes had another successful business in another area, so this was the grand opening of his second shop. Brett was a short arrogant man, much younger then me, but he had a baby face that just screamed lick me. Though he ran each shop his mother Lydia was the actual financier of each and was the top dog who had the last say in anything. Though you would never know that the way Brett carried himself. Brett also had a body guard who never really spoke to the girls. His main job was to escort Brett to the businesses to pick up the money each day. He was tall, dark, muscular and handsome. Definitely a nice piece of filet and all the girls drooled when he showed up.

When I entered the building there was a waiting room set up like a luxurious living room. Thick pile carpet, couches, chairs and television, all the comforts of home. It had a steamy atmosphere from the lighting and scented candles that were burning. I looked around and took inventory of the girls that were there. It kind of looked like a man’s fantasy. There were about six girls there the first day and each was very different and unique. All were very attractive and dressed to the hilt. Their hair was done perfectly and they had  tasteful accessories to accent what they were wearing. I could tell that they were all younger then me which made me feel more comfortable. It’s hard to run a business where the women are older and more experienced then you.

Brett had chosen these girls from his other  shop to start out at Strokes until I had time to hire an actual group to work only for this site. I was introduced to each girl who had chosen a stage name as they call it for working purposes. Brett showed me around to each room, ran through a list of rules and safety issues and off he went with body guard filet on his heals.

Now since I had never had any experience is this field whatsoever, I was to join in the first  session to basically learn what happens behind closed doors. As I said these girls were pros and had worked for Brett for a while so they were very comfortable with me being around.

The doors to the public opened at 10:00 a.m. and sure enough the first customer promptly arrived at that time. I checked him in and explained that since I was the new “manager” I would sit in on his session with no extra charge to him. He was happy to oblige since we charged double for two girls, triple for three and so on. Customer #1 as I will call John just for the sake of a little joke for the first time, was able to pick the girl he wanted. All girls were called to the front and introduced and he made his choice. He chose which massage he wanted, paid and was checked in.

John made his choice of girl and decided on Jade. She was a beautiful mixed race girl. If I had to guess I would think she was about 21 years old. She had  long auburn hair and beautiful green eyes that stood out against her dark skin. She asked John to follow her and at that point I appointed another girl to cover the desk for the session.

Jade led John to her room. Inside he was instructed to remove his clothing and cover himself with a fresh white cotton towel. She told him she would be back to take him to the shower. Each customer was given a table shower before the session for two reasons. Reason one being hygiene. This way each girl could be sure the customer was clean and check for anything suspicious looking in the parts department if you get my drift. Second since their clothes had to be left in the massage room and they were naked in the shower room the extras to the massage and the cost could be discussed without fear of being recorded for legal reasons.

After a few minutes Jade and I went into the room and removed our clothes while John watched. We worked as seductively and slowly as possible to burn up the clock time since really we are there to make money not to have to spend each second massaging. While I was undressing I checked out John. He was an attractive man. Nothing special, just your average guy but with the smoothest skin. His muscles rippled as he tightened his towel while we removed our panties and I could see he was getting a hard on already. Jade then led John to the table shower .

John laid on the table which was just like a regular massage table only set up for shower use. I watched as she wet him down with the warm water and it splashed up on her tits making her nipples hard. She had natural full breasts with large areola’s but her nipples were extremely sensitive and they stuck out like pencil erasers. She lathered John with soap paying special attention to his now rock hard cock. It was actually a pretty nice size, with one of those sexy helmet heads that was the same thickness of his rod, I found myself getting a bit moist at the sight of this and started wondering how I was ever going to do this everyday and not sprain my twat with masturbation.

After Jade had John rinsed off she led him back into her massage room for the actual massage. John had requested the full body massage, which in English is a massage with a hand release, or a happy ending as it is called in the business. The lights were down low and Jade had soft music playing and candles burning. John laid on the table face down first and she preceded to coat his body in warmed oil. It was so erotic to watch this beautiful naked exotic looking woman rubbing the slick oil over this muscled male body I could barley take it..Jade asked if I wanted to help with the massage and John begged me to so I couldn’t help but get my hands slick with the oil and let them glide all over his body.

Once Johns back was done he was told to roll over. It was at that point it became obvious that his excitement was at a boiling point. His cock was rock hard and the head was turning a bit purple, I could see pre-cum starting to leak from the head. Jade seductively rubbed the oil on his chest and I took over with the chest massage while she went to work at the other end. Her delicate hands lubed his dick and a soft groan escaped his mouth. She then used both hands to gently at first stroke his manhood. At that point Johns eyes rolled back in his head and he closed his eyes. My pussy was  actually throbbing because one of my hottest fantasies is men masturbating and to see this hot girl jerking this guy off was definitely a turn on.

Jade expertly applied the right pressure and started pumping his cock with one hand and swirling around the head with her other. Johns hips started thrusting and his breathing got faster. I kept working his upper body and then moved down and started massaging his legs as she worked his pulsating man meat. Johns moans got louder and Jade quickened her motion, she then reached under his dick and ever so gently cupped his balls. That was it, John started to cum and Jade being the expert that she was pointed his cock towards his chest and the cum spewed in jolts from his swollen member. To me at the time it seemed to go on forever. I remember thinking that this guy really came prepared with a full load. At that point the massage was over. John was given a towel to clean himself off and was advised to get dressed.

Once he was dressed he put the agreed upon amount of money on the table and left. Jade and I went and washed our hands. I couldn’t help it but when I looked at her I started laughing. She asked what was so funny, and I just said “damn, men are so easy.” At that point both of us started laughing as we got dressed. Our friendship was formed at that moment.

I thought all the experiences would be the same as John but I was so wrong. At that point in my life I thought I had seen everything, but boy was I wrong. It just got better and better. So good as a matter of fact I stuck with the job for a year. I just couldn’t give up a great story, and every day was something new.

Ok so I wake up this morning in a piss ass mood again. No reason, no PMS, just a royal bitch. This nasty mean feeling cloud again over my head. I am in a royal rage. Did you ever have one of days when the slightest thing can just irritate the fuck out of you? I swear I have this one piece of hair that keeps tickling me and wont stay in place no matter what and it’s driving me to the point of pulling a Brittany and shaving my whole fucking head. Even my pets are looking ripe for a shaving at this point. I have the urge to go right to my rooftop and scream “fuck me with a fork” at the top of my lungs.

I am such a twat at this point nothing can make me happy. I want to be completely left alone to sulk my life away. If I could fit my ass under a rock I swear I would crawl under one until this horrible bitch phase passes. No amount of pills or booze will make it better so don’t suggest that, you will only make me want to bind you in plastic wrap and slap you with a rubber hose til your ass is black and blue.

So anyway, since I had to re-write this fucking blog because some how it was lost the first time, which didn’t help my vile mood at all, I tried to think of what the fuck my problem is. Usually I am a pretty easy going person and bad moods don’t get to me very much. Then a small light went on somewhere in the bowels of my dark mind. I need sex…..

It has been about a month since my last relationship ended and I have not been laid since. That’s it. I just need a good old fashion dirty, nasty, sweaty fuck fest. I need to be tossed around like a fuckin bean bag. Damn it that is why I have been so tense and irritable. What a simple thing you think right? Well fucker you’re wrong. It’s so not simple that I could slap myself just for writing the word simple. Self pleasure is OUT. Been there and done that so many times I could have quite literally rubbed my pussy right off my body.

Now here’s the question. What the hell do you do when you are a single gal in an extremely dry  (sexually) area? Pickin’s are worse then slim around here and I would rather sleep with the pit bull next door then touch anyone that I have seen around here lately. I’m not into the hi, nice to meet you wanna fuck type thing at the local bars either. And the thought of calling up an ex just makes me want to vomit my uterus directly into the toilet.

So what I want to know is, how do you relieve sexual tension? Is it possible to ignore it til it goes away? Has anyone ever used sexual tension as a excuse for murder? And if so did it work?

So, lately as much as I try to medicate myself into an ignorance is bliss state of mind with myspace stupidity,  it has not been working.  I keep having periods of break through thinking.  Always a dangerous thing with me while logged to this cyber ant farm.

I have fought the urges as long as possible, but it has come time for me to spew some logical thought on the masses.  If you don’t like drama, delete me now.  If on the other hand you are a closet drama freak, grab yourself a mini snack sized bag of pop corn and enjoy.  But if you don’t at least leave me a kudo or two, I hope you get one of those sharp pieces of kernels stuck in the back of your throat, and hack like a pussy with a fur ball for the next week.

First thing that came to my attention this week was a sob story blog from our local testicle queen, super flabs.

My question to his pitiful attempt of sympathy blog of “How I married a drug addict, and saved my daughters life, while still managing to run a successful pre-pubescent blog empire” is this.  Who the fuck are you to run down this ex wife of yours without her being able to tell any part of her story?  Who are you fucking idiots who fall hook, line, and sinker for this man childs blubbering sob story?  Has no one ever heard that there are many sides to every story?  I for one, would love the opportunity to talk to the ex-Mrs. Super Balls and to find out the truth behind why exactly she allegedly chose pain pills over sleeping with super sack and caring for her own child.

Another question that boggles my mind is, why anyone would pat this self absorbed cock smoker on the back for doing what thousands of women do every day…taking care of their offspring.  What makes him such a “good father” just because he is doing what a man should do?  If one parent is unable to care for their kids it is the other parents obligation to take care of their seed.  This self described “asshole” acts like he should get some kind of award for changing dirty diapers, feeding, and housing his own kid.  It’s your fucking job douchetard.  You are doing nothing special.  You made the kid, you should care for the kid.  Woop de fucking do, you took her to Disney world, a hockey game, and sent her out into an ocean full of sharks at the ripe old age of six so she could surf.  Please.  Let me get right on that nomination for your Sainthood.  You never cease to amaze me at your pitiful attempts to gain the sympathies of stupid twats.  And the stupid twats fall for it   You are a manwhore Hoodini of epic proportions.  I suppose as long as there are desperate women out there you will continue to find them and get your dick sucked on myspace.

But for your own good, maybe you should lay off those twinkies you claim we all eat.  From some of the pictures I have been privy to, you are nothing but a fat ass, less then attractive couch potato yourself.

As a dishonorable mention here, I would just like to say to Chrissa.  There was a time I had a small amount of respect for you.  Since it seems that you have deleted me from your high powered friends list anyway, I would just like to say that you are just another fishy cooter floundering around in super flabs sperm pool.  You are the Abbot to his Costello in this little myspace world of assholery.

Ok, on to my next little observation.

Another fuckwad who photographs himself from only the neck up….Dustinhismotherscooter.  You my bipolar lunatic are a freak show on your own, yet you are backed up the circus act of your plastic old lady, Nippy a.k.a. the drama queen formally known as Nip/tuckherdick, and her mini-me daughter Slyme.  Who I might add is only a nose job away from taking over her mothers throne once the botox poisoning takes over completely and she is no longer able to move any muscle in her geriatric corpse.

You are a menace to society as a whole.  Although since your mother is now a proud fake breasted citizen of Mantana, you have found a gig playing with people who think you really are a fucking mess, it has given new meaning to your already useless life.
For you to speak ill of anyone is a joke.  You are one of those kids that should have been ingested instead of shot up that extra wide hallway of a birth canal.  Be careful of who you mess with around here you little turd, I hear the men in the white coats are on to you again.

Now another real piece of work lately around here is Snickerdoodlescoobysnacksnatch.  You are one of the worst drama queens I have ever seen.  You lurk in the darkness of the sewer and attack anyone you know you can bully and then you run and hide.  You swim in a fish bowl of guppies because you would never survive in the ocean of sharks here.  People like you make me sick.  Hit and run twats are a dime a dozen here.  You and your mindless drivel blogs are about as brain numbing as Stephany’s “How to date out of your league” blogs.  Although your blogs are boring enough to rank with the top bloggers, you lack the certain strength that it takes to promote yourself.  You are a pussy in bully clothing.  I for one would love to see you try to take on a more outspoken blogger here.  I would enjoy watching you get chewed up and spit out like a playschool jigsaw puzzle.

And though I am not one to make light of domestic violence, I too would most likely beat the ever loving stupid right out of you if given the opportunity.

And last, but certainly not least, I would just like to address Annie, the hooker for Jesus.  You are one of the most pathetic excuses for a Christian I have ever seen.  And trust me, being on here for as long as I have, I have seen some seriously twisted religious freaks.  But you take the cake you dirty bible slut.  Who in the hell do you think you are fooling besides the ridiculous  religiously brainwashed group of soul suckers?  Isn’t hookers for Jesus kind of an oxymoron?  If god actually had hands he would slap the fuck out of you.  Although I am sure you are making some good money escorting some of the local politicians to the back room of your church.  Freak shows like you do make for comical reading at times though.  Now go put on your shortest skirt, and your cum fuck me heels and bow down and pray for me…I enjoy seeing bitches like you on your knees.

Well that’s all for now fuckers.  I’m feeling too nice this week to really let out my inner cunty.

For the second time in less then a month, I have been blog tagged. Kit Kat has chosen to call me out on ten random facts about myself, which if you count the last random fact blog makes 20 fucking things I must confess about myself.  I feel completely violated.  But being the angel of love that I am, I’m compelled to follow through with this vile game of self destruction.

Now you all know I never tag anyone after I have been tagged.  I hate being tagged, therefore I would never want to do it to any of my friends.

Unfortunately at this time, I am feeling too much love on the Space…so since you all have not been properly hating me, I am going to exercise my right to pry into some of my friends personal business.  Yes, tag….you’re it fuckers.

1.  Chad, the love of my life…spill it twat.
2.  Nip, I want the dirt…and the good stuff too, not anything I already know.
3.   Sly, since I do not know much about you and would love to hear kinky shit.
4.  Sandra, you are a kinky closet hooker and I want everyone to know.
5.  LaLa, just because I want to fuck with your sexy ass.
6.  Dodi, well I just think you are adorable, and I’ve never seen you tagged.
7.  Deanna, because you have been slipping on ass smacks lately
8.  Shirtless Jams, just because you have shirtless in your name.
9.  Gaysil, because I find your fantasy life amusing..and I need blog material
10. Mantana, just for the fuck of it.

There you have my list…I am quite sure the last two will not complete the task, but it will make them feel warm and fuzzy for being included.

That out of the way, here are my LAST random and strange facts.

1.  I prefer plants over people. Especially crowds. I am prone to major panic
attacks.

2.  I have masturbated with several strange objects, including a ventriloquist
dummy.  He was the best date I ever had, never bitched about anything.

3.  I cannot stand to have my hands feel dry.  I use hand lotion constantly to the
point of OCD.

4.  I must have my bedroom extremely cold in order to sleep.  I think it helps to
preserve me….kind of like the morgue thing.

5.  I find the older serial killers amazing.  Today’s killers just don’t have the same
Charm.

6.  Contrary to popular belief, I do not eat my mate when I am through with him.

7.  I find breasts completely erotic. I guess you could say I am a tit woman.

8.  I was actually a stripper for a couple of years.  The money was incredible.

9.  The strangest fact you will ever hear from me….I am actually a school bus
driver….think south park…..

10.  I believe legalizing pot and prostitution would bring world peace.

There you have it.  Savor it twats.

Lately I’ve noticed that the drama level on myspace has hit epic proportions.  Now it doesn’t bother me.  I actually find it very amusing    It’s like going to the circus and watching the freak show.  It’s gross and disgusting in someways, yet amazingly entertaining.  My issues are not with the drama itself.  I have a problem with the morons that whine and carry on about it.

I have been blogging here for a while now and I’m pretty sure it’s well known that I don’t throw any punches.  I speak my mind no matter how offensive or hostile it may sound.  I consider myself to be truthful to the point of painful.

Here is where my problem is.  If you are coming to my page to read my blog, and you know full well who I am…why the fuck would you be shocked at what I write??  Why would you even try to read me knowing full well you may see your name or picture on my page with some humorous yet truthful statement there??  Then you have the balls to run around myspace typing your little fingers off to anyone who will listen to what a crazy bitch I am.  Complain, complain, complain.  It’s all I hear now.  Who the hell made you read me???  Did I sneak into your profile one night and hold a picture of a gun to your head and threaten you??  No, I don’t bother anyone. I just write the facts as I see them. It’s what a good journalist does.

Case in point:

Now no offense to all the poets on myspace, but if you come to my page looking for mush that rhymes with love big surprise, your not going to find it.  Personally I hate poetry anymore. It’s all been done so many times in so many different ways, it’s the snooze button for me.  Granted there are people who love it. I say more power to you. Go read it and hold hands.  But I choose not to venture there because I KNOW I WONT LIKE IT.   Wow, enlightening isn’t it??  So my point is, if you don’t like drama, or name calling, or this so called “cyber bullying” shit, don’t come here and stick your nose in my blog.  You will still wake up tomorrow, and the sun will still shine. You wont miss anything.

Now as I was thinking about this I wondered why if I can figure this out, how come so many others cant.  Then it hit me….they are stupid    They really have no idea what they are going to find here.  So knowing this and being a sweet little dove, I have devised a plan of action.

From this day on I will rate my blogs for you    Not rank, rate. Exactly like the motion picture association of America does, only my ratings will be the drama blog association of Americas ratings.  For instance…if I write a blog that is about sunshine and lollipops my blog will be rated G.  For general audiences.  Now, if I write a blog where I am going to tear someone an new asshole, depending on my mood at writing and taking various other things into consideration, my blog will be rated R~meaning it is restricted to drama.  X would be drama and a nice mix of sex and deviancy thrown in.

So now no one has any excuse to ever bitch and cry about what I write, because you will know ahead of time whether you should read it or not.  Those people who are so opposed to drama should read only G and PG blogs for they will have the least drama.  Us hard core drama queens will read all the PG-13 ~X blogs.  Have I made myself clear??  I hope so.
I hope you enjoy your little lesson for today. See myspace can be very educational too.

Since it is constantly brought to my attention by the myspace cry baby brigade, that I can only blog about other bloggers, every once in a while I must toss out a blog that has nothing to do with this cyber day care center.  Today is your luck day twats.

When I was growing up, my grandmother was my best friend.  She lived on the Jersey shore and staying with her created some of the best memories of my life.

She was a huge Elvis fan.  I grew up listening to his music and know almost every one of his songs by heart.  Yes, at a young age I fell madly in love with Elvis the Pelvis.

Granny and I spent many lazy afternoons watching his movies, and in my impressionable mind, I would create a fantasy of myself being each one of those lucky woman who got play a part in each of his cheesy films.

When he passed away, I was devastated.  I just knew that if he had known me he would still be alive today.

Now, let’s fast forward to my early adult years.

Although I still adored Elvis, I was no longer obsessed with him when I was in my early twenties. But when I showed up one night at my favorite local club and saw that they had an Elvis impersonator I was intrigued.  I mean, no one could take the place of my Elvis, but I was curious to see what this guy had to offer.

My friends and I made ourselves comfortable and the kamikazes started flowing like piss from a wino.  Shots were passed and the drunken debauchery took it’s toll.

By the time Elvis took the stage I was pretty well lit I assume, because the only thing I can remember to this day was thinking, “Oh My God, I must have this man.”  I made my way to the front of the crowd of screaming women.  My childhood fantasy man and I made direct eye contact.

I swear I passed out.

But I didn’t.

The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed.  I had one of those hangovers where you cannot open your eyes right away.  The pain hit as soon as I became conscience, and I had to lay very still and try to take mental inventory of my bodily functions.

I first became aware of the pain in my skull, I then took mental note of all of my body parts…yes they were all still attached.  It was then that I had the sudden awareness that I was not alone.  Slowly I pried one eye open a bit to see where the hell I was and who was next to me.

The first thing I saw as I peeked through my bloodshot eye was huge black hair and the longest side burns I had ever seen.  I closed my eye quickly as my sluggish brain tried to register what it was seeing.  In disbelief I peeked again. My eye trailed down the body that was laying beside me…I saw a white jumpsuit complete with huge bellbottoms and rhinestone studding.

For a split second I thought I was dead.

Then the realization hit me like a fucking mack truck.

I was in bed with Elvis Presley.

I felt the sudden urge to puke, but thought better of it.  I tried to remain calm but it was too late to reach for the xanax…a major panic attack hit with the force of a tidal wave.

I jumped straight up out of bed and immediately started firing questions at the King.  “Who the hell are you?  What are you doing here?  You have to get out of here right now  ”

Elvis sat up and gave me that sexy lopsided grin and said, “I cant leave, you brought me here. I sent my driver home”.   It was at that moment I had my first cardiac arrest.

Anyone who has panic attacks will understand how I felt at that very moment.  A million thoughts went running through my mind.  I couldn’t breath, I was going to die.  My head was screaming with one of the worst hangovers I have ever had.  It was as if my brain had swollen much too large for my skull and was going to explode at any moment.  My survival instinct was running at top speed.  I am quite sure I looked like a crazed lunatic.  I just had to get this giant glittery man out of my house before anyone saw him.

Finally logic kicked in and I realized I would have to take him home.  Leaving on the same clothes that I passed out in from the night before, I started putting on my shoes. “Ok, Elvis let’s go, I’ll take you home.”  He replied that his name was Tony.   It was all I could do to not jump out of my own flesh.  Tony?  Tony???  Was he fucking kidding?  He looked like Elvis, but his name was Tony.  Boy I sure could pick em.

“Ok Tony, hurry up, let’s go.  Where the hell do you live?”

I then had my second cardiac arrest of the morning.

“I live in Patterson New Jersey” he said as if he was just around the corner.

“PATTERSON?”  I screamed.  Hell, I didn’t even know where Patterson was, but I knew it was at least a good hour from me.

He kind of laughed at me softly.  He was the calmest Elvis I had ever seen.  All I could think was that he must have been very used to waking up in strange places with strange women.  I, on the other hand, was not one to bring home strange men ever.  Especially not ones that wore shiny jumpsuits and had hair bigger then mine.

So I grabbed my keys and rushed Tony out of the house into the car and off I went.  I knew I really was in no condition to drive but my anxiety level was so high there was just no stopping me.

He gave me directions and it’s a wonder I didn’t put my foot through the floor of my car as I hit the gas.

As I drove I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.  Sitting calmly in my passenger seat in the cold hard light of day, was Elvis Presley.  No doubt about it.  I cursed myself for drinking so much and made a mental promise to God, that if he let me get through all this I swore I would never drink again.

Then Tony say’s “Hey, I am really starving, what do you say we stop at a diner for breakfast?”

Was he delusional?  Eat??  At a time like this?

“No way man, I am taking you straight home” I said as nicely as I could while clutching my chest to keep my heart from exploding into a million pieces.

“Then how about we just stop at McDonalds and I will just get something quick?” he said while giving me the Elvis sneer.  I thought about it for a second, and realized that I could use a cup of coffee so I agreed to the McDonalds drive through.  What harm could come from that?

We pulled into the next McDonalds and low and behold the drive through was closed.  I was ready to pull out my hair, and was throwing the car into reverse when he let me know he had to use the bathroom anyway so we might as well go in.  What could I do?  He had to pee.  I cant be completely heartless could I?  I parked the car and we walked into McDonalds at 6:30 a.m.

It was then I had my third cardiac arrest of the morning.

You have not lived until you have entered a McDonalds, at the crack of dawn in wrinkled club clothes and crazy lady bed head, with a massive hangover.  People will look at you strange.  Now add to that I am  walking in with a giant Elvis in full dress, complete with baubles, rhinestones, sideburns, and a bell bottom jumpsuit that leads down to his blue suede shoes.

As the whole restaurant became silent and all eyes focused on us, I prayed for death.

I think I passed out again.

Finally coffee in hand, and Tony with his mcmuffins we hit the road again.  This time I was determined to drive straight through, without stopping for anything.  I had to rid myself of this freak show.

Sadly my plans were foiled again.

As I saw the red lights of the police car in my rear view window…you guessed it, I had my fourth cardiac arrest of the day.

I was pulled over for going 85 in a 50 mile an hour zone.  I receive my very first speeding ticket with Elvis sitting next to me.

I don’t even remember what the cop said to me, but I will never forget his laugh.

I think I was crying.

After about 2 hours from when I left my home, I dropped Tony at his house.  He no sooner closed the car door and I took off. I still to this day cannot remember exactly where he lived.  I was driving in full blown anxiety mode.

When I finally arrived back at my house, I collapsed on my bed from exhaustion.  It took me a while to regulate my breathing and to get my heart rate to a normal level.  I could finally relax.  I had learned a valuable lesson.

I stretched out on my bed and looked over at the clock on my night stand.  To my shock on the corner of the night stand sat Tony’s keys.  I sat up and picked up the ring of keys.  I think at that very moment I lost my mind.  I started laughing.  I had no way to contact this guy, and in all of my anxiety, I really had no idea where I had just taken him. I would never find his house again.  There was nothing to do but put the keys in the drawer, and pop two xanax and a few Tylenol and sleep for the rest of the day.

I have never gone to see anything having to do with Elvis again.  Although my friends did call me Priscilla for years afterwards.

And someday I may sell Elvis’s keys on Ebay.

I start this blog with a big old *sigh*.

Where does it end people?  Do I have to post a disclaimer at the end of all of my blogs like super flabs does?  Do you have to actually be told to take what I say with a grain of salt? Do I have to threaten you that I will fuck a monkey and give you venereal disease and then blame all your friends for it?   Do you really not know the difference between hatred and a dry sense of humor?  Are you really so feebly minded to think that when you post anything in a public forum, that you wont be scrutinized?  And sometimes that scrutiny will come in a negative form?

Is myspace truly a cluster fuck of whiney, sniveling piss pants?

I have to suppose that the answer to all of these questions is a big Super ball filled, YES

Let’s get serious now for a second. Don’t be shocked…even Bad Lisa has a serious side. Although it doesn’t bother to show itself around myspace much.  It has better things to do.

In the real world (and I cannot even believe I have to explain something like this to adults) if you are in the public eye, let’s say for example, as a writer.  You make your work public.  Said public reads your work.  Some of the public will like what you write, some of the public wont .Part of the public likes your work and whatever drivel you spew, so they give you what is known as a good review on it.  Now the evil side, the side that really is hard to please, does not like your crap, finds it to be utter bullshit.  They  will give you (here’s the part where you babies should grab your tissues) a BAD review.

Do you immediately cry…”This is horrible    Such drama      I did not deserve to have my creative genius picked apart like this     So unfair      I am a dad, I deserve a parade    ” Or do you take it in stride, as criticism should be taken, and go on to write, I don’t know, let’s say… more crap?

I have been labeled many things here.  I have been called a hate monger, a drama writer, a jealous person, someone who has no life so all I can do for attention is write about other bloggers.  Let me assure you that the only thing true is that,  yes, I do write some drama.  But let’s ask the real question…is it drama when I say what I think of someone?  Is it drama when I think your blogs are a septic tank of old shit?  Or does it become drama when you yourself read my blog and become offended by it?  Just think, I write down my opinion, you get pissed off, fly off the handle and then you and 20 of your sheep, er, friends write blogs about how you have been unfairly attacked. You honesty believe that  your writing is more important then glorified toilet paper.  When exactly do words become drama?

Is the birth of drama the moment of conception?  The exact second something passes from my eyes and registers in my brain?  Before it even has a tiny little heart beat of it’s own?  Or does it not  become the dreaded drama, until I myself choose to write my opinion of it?  When I put words to my thoughts?  Or does it take on it’s life form of drama when you read it, and form your own opinion of my opinion?

I will openly admit to being a somewhat twisted individual.  I see things differently then your average, run of the mill boring skin sack.  I analyze things, sometimes everything I see.

I am a Virgo.  We are down to earth individuals, yet we need to know what is behind everything.  We are anal *snicker* and nit picky.  Does it bother us?  Hell no.  But your willy nilly sense of superior idiocy drives us crazy.  Does it bother you?  Oh holy hell, yes.

I tell it like it is…or as I see it.

You don’t have to agree.  You can chose to ignore me.  Or you can chose to make my opinions into drama.  It’s always your choice.  You always seem to bring it  to the drama stage.

I suppose what I am trying to say is, the more you cry and bitch about what I think, or say, or write, the more you are making drama.

So in reality, you fuck nuts are all the real drama queens.

I am just a person with strong opinions that I chose to blog about.

Don’t like it?  Don’t call attention to me.

Grow up and accept the fact  that not everyone is going to think you are the greatest thing since the discovery of blow jobs.

As you have a right to make my skin crawl with your nonsense, I have a right to entertain myself with my own brand of humor when putting my thoughts into the written word.

So, in keeping up with the “top blogger” manual, I want to know what you all think?

What is your opinion of my opinion?

Are words really the cause of drama?  Or are the people who read them?

*disclaimer*
I really don’t give a flying monkey fuck what you really think, but it’s cool when bloggers pose questions to their readers, so I decided to do it too.  I am thinking of playing the top blogger game for a while.  Not a smart career move on my part, but hey it passes the time between drinking and masturbating.