something missing-left behind. i've been here before. i can't escape walking down these halls, and it's hard to find a place where there are no walls

dear retarded females:

whaddup my bitches? come, sit..we have to talk. you see, i understand where you are coming from. i understand because i have a rather dark complexion naturally...but you see, even i cannot go fake bake my ass to a crisp, because after a while i go from looking normal and more tan than normal, to...well? fucking weird and scary looking. basically, i look at you girls and have to fight off the urge to make a purse or some nice shoes out of your leathery melanin saturated skin. your skin can only take so much my pretties, so please...step away from the tanning booths. it shouldn't be a part of your daily routine, and should be no more than a three time a week endeavor. that said, lets talk a little bit about the beloved fake tan, shall we? my lovelies...looking like leather really isn't that far removed from resembling the staple of a great cinnematic masterpeice: the oompa loompa. it's not natural to be a nice shade of orange, and don't let those fuckers in hollywood try to tell you otherwise, because it even looks like shit on them. that said, lets think about something here, shall we? i know that the latest trend is moisturizers with a hint of self tanner so that you can build up a tan. i'm guilty of using them as well, and you know what? they work great on those places that hardly see the sun, like your legs. that said, if you look at the bottle you'll notice they have seperate formula's for "fair," medium," and "dark" skin tones. there is ar eason for this. aside from the inherent orange effect of self-tanner, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that you can only moistuize so much of your body. that's right ladies..y'all grab for the "dark" formula to achieve your most darkest orange possible, and all the while never seen to remember that you can't put the shit on your back. for shame, my pets! for shame! the fact your orange is funny, but the fact that your entire mid and upper back aren't...make it fucking hilarious for people like me who see you. and for that? i thank you...

smooches my dim witted counterparts!
- e, in all her olive skinned glory.


dear 2006:

hi. not sure you know me, not sure it matters. i know it's been only five months, but you and i need to have a little talk. i welcomed in this year with the hope that it would be better than your predecessor. that hope wasn't really a hard one for you to make good on. seriously. 2005 was absolute shit for me, so basically you just sitting there and looking pretty would pretty much have sufficed in being better than 2005...but? NO! you couldn't just leave well enough alone and take a cue from my ill-will towards the entire fucking year of 2005 and just exist. nooo, you had to go and do that bastard one-up thing and outdo all the shitty glory that was 2005 in just five simple months. though i'm amazed at your ambition and i admire your work, homey ain't playin it. in the past five months i've pretty much lost my best friend of 20 years to some cunt, i've tried to be more amenable to the notion of "relationships" only to have that come bite me in the ass, i realized i may not be able to have children, i've come to find that a few choices i've made in my life are going to be the fucking demise of me, i've come to understand that doing what you want sometimes is more important than doing what's expected..much to my chagrin, i'm not sure i want to live this life i've created, and, worst of all, i realized that my parents aren't going to be around forever..which is something i wasn't really equipped to deal with at the age of twenty three or, arguably, ever. i really have no clue what the remaining seven months have in store for me, and normally i would just say "hit me with your best shot, biatch!", but...i'm tired of being shat on in ways that are just out of my own control, because i shit on myself enough to have my hands pretty much constantly full...so, if you could...go easy on me from here on out. it would be greatly appreciated.

thanks for listening
-elle.


dear parents:

this is just me being a total bitch and haveing a really good point: your kids are your fucking responsibility, and you're at fault if they are ill mannered fuckers and someone decides to scold then over it. if you feel the need to take your kids everywhere with you, at least have the courtesy to teach them how to act in public. i'm not talking the basics of being out in public, like not yelling and/or screaming. i'm talking the most elemental aspect of common courtesy: personal space. i don't need your fuckin little rugrat all up on my shit. when i went to get my most recent tattoo's, there were two kids there, and i shit you not these kids ran into me, grabbed me, basically sat on me while i was sitting on the couch waiting, and just, in general, had a blatant disregard for the slight possibility i wasn't there for their amusement. and, much to my surprise, when i told the little fuckers to stop touching me, in particular to stop grabbing my ass (little pervs), the mother of the little bitches suddenly got her hearing back. it didn't matter that they were running around, screaming, and basically using me like i was a playground...nope, that she was okay with, but me telling them to stop touching me was just WAY! overstepping my bounds. i like kids, so that's not the issue...i don't like it when parents seem to think that because they have kids they have some kind of entitlement, and that because those little fuckers are kids they are absolved from any wrongdoing outside of what the parents seem to think would be wrong. if an adult was engaging in the same activity as those two little bitch nuggets, i'd have a case for sexual harassment and molestation, but because they are under the age of 10..i'm supposed to sit there and let them have a fuckin party? no. so, parents..,.instill some fucking manners, morals, ethics, and a notion of personal space into your kids, and you won't have to worry about the fact that i'm sitting there doing what you should be doing.

you're the reason america is going to shit, i hope you realize!
- the enforcer.

dear members of the opposite sex :

this really has no rhyme or specific reason; however, i'm just throwing it out there for the sake of my own sanity and as an explanation for actions i've taken in the past that i've reflected on as of late. first, i know you men love a woman who can just dominate the shit out of you..i really have no idea why, but you fuckers just eat it up when a chick bosses you around. don't sit there and go "no, i really don't," because there's no fucking way any woman could pussywhip a guy that didn't secretly get off on the fact that the woman is in total control...and more than enough guys in this world have been, or are, pussy whipped to prove my point. but? here's the thing..that's not my style. it's not even my style to put any form of a dictator hat on concerning your actions when shit concerns me, specifically. i believe in an equitable partnership, give-and-take, good-with-the-bad, and i put a lot of stock into that bitch known as "personal choice"--it's a lot easier for me to tell you what to do, but it's a lot more rewarding--not to mention telling--when you do things on your own free will. that said? don't take the fact i'm laid back and willing to compromise and take advantage of it, that's just shitty, which, in no way at all, brings me to point two: if you are going to sit there and wax poetic about how even the slightest possibility is impracticable in your opinion, don't expect me to have any form of a definitive answer regarding the situation. i know most chicks will fight for what they want, but i'm a firm believer in some shit ain't worth fighting for and, sorry boys, your affection, attention, time, and effort is one of those things that falls neatly into that category..actions will always speak louder than whatever bullshit words you can muster, just remember that. and thus, i'm brought to my final completely unrelated point: most people are perfectly willing to exist in a form of relationship limbo, and that's fine seeing as society has kind of blurred everything into one big proclomation of "yea, we're fucking," but, in my case i can only go with it for so long before it just gets obnoxious--i don't care about titles or any of that bullshit, i care about the level of commitment that's expected on both sides and a reconcilliation of the two. that said, if you're going speak in "we"'s while in my presence, become the equivalent of an asshole at all times you aren't within my proximity, and if you're going to make absolutely no effort to be in my proximity or talk to me unless it's condusive to your wants/needs...then i hate to break it to you, but i'm probably going to play with your fucking mind like it's my job. i'm not a control freak, but in the absence of concrete action to draw upon for any form of a saftey net, solace is so fucking easily found in toying with you such that i have some sort of upper hand...and i may seem all candy kisses and sweet as pie, but i'm one smart little conniving bitch, if need be, and in the most passive agressive way possible i'll make you play into whatever scheme i contrived and love every minute of watching you flail and sink because you can't just say the truth. if you think i can't do it to you, just know i've never not been successful once i've decided it's play time. and, that's it..just wanted to throw that out there....

much love to your half chromosome,
the chick with the big knockers that's trying to break her cycle of dating assholes

dear bicycle riders:

alright. this is ridiculous. i know it's nice out, i know you guys like to travel in packs..but..guess what?! y'all aren't cars! i don't care that you are driving on the road, i care that you take up the bulk of the lane and expect me to play chicken while passing you, because y'all are travelling in rows of six, rather than..like..two..and i can't see past your conglomerate of peddling and spandex. i admire your sport, i admire the fact you guys go nuts over it, i admire that you have such an unyeilding love that you make your nuts bear the ultimimate torture of the banana seat for hours upon hours, daily....but back the fuck off! when you can go forty-five miles per hour down the street, then by all means...travel in packs stretching across the entire lane of road you happen to be traveling on, but until then, lets not be greedy, okay? my three ton, four wheeled autombile trumps you and your bike..so kindly make the width of your pack a bit smaller, k? and while we're on the subject...i've been frequenting the local park lately with the pooch for some quality mommy-puppino time, and i've noticed that the people who are on bikes seem to think that they own the path. i don't care how fuckin fast your traveling, i don't care how much you yell "left!" as you approach from behind me..if there's some other asshole on a bike, or someone walking/running, approaching me in the opposite direction, i'm not fucking getting off the path so you don't have to slow down. why should i have to "off road" it and walk in the dirt and mud (and probably dog shit) because you're too much of a fucker to push your break? so, instead of wasting your energy yelling "left", and then scolding me as you pass me for not moving off the path..take your four fingers, move them up slightly onto the bar just above the handlebar, and squeeze asshole.

yes, those spandex make your ass look fat
-the chick in the civic or with the black and white dog.