lookmessage to your la designer teacher
oh student
here it is right here
u send who u want to wear the clothes u fucking make
to their house
and they wear a few outfitsit goes right to the streets
why would the model pay you
she is FREELY advertising your PRODUCT.YOUR BRAND
benefact yourself
ill see u in europe.
ps – poor is ALWAYS in.
pps. rich people paying more money for poor people’s clothing, never went out.
i have yet to see matrix reloaded. i will see it soon.
being a geek is better than being a nerd. nerd is an insult. geek is not. get a fleet of geeks on your side and then you are set. people i know who are very smart, are still very smart but they smoke too much pot or crack or get trashed in my part of towne, in toronto, in brooklyn…ja-fucking-pan, wherever, and they are not as smart as i am right now because of their addictions, afflictions. they can only think to say things like, “in general you piss everyone off…” on my shout outs to try and get me to not ever rear my face in town again, i know the fear of the blond girl. ive seen it. i have proof. then fear of the other people. and then the other. harassment, a term you use as the only thing you’ve got to hold against me? puhhlease. ive got other terms, to use, against, all of yous. dont ever call me again, my home, dont show up, if we bump into one another on the streets, don’t take it personally, but i would probably kick the crap out of you with my own bare hands. you and me alone, dont send some big dumb guy to my house to smash my face in, there was no broken glass here. keep your shit to your own shit. i no longer want to be nice. ill talk about you in therapy. and cheryl, you ar ethe one who needs the mental supervision. GET your own identity. you saw and witnessed firsthand what exboyfriend O did to me every fucking day we were together. im not doing this to get attention. this is my fucking blog and i always write the truth on it. if you are so goddamn afraid of being outed, STOP coming by and leaving annonymous messages on my shout outs. go to the police before i do and say this girl “harassed” you, do it, i implore you. see what happens. because counter-reacting to your ignoramous and pithy tactics in-which you try to scare me away, so much fun.
guess what MY side of the story will be, m henry, oo and b girl.? exactly. are you going to have me murdered like you wanted about to months ago, which we have logged on anti’s blog? huh? and which dude is going to show up and do that, exactly. which window of my house to i have to stand by with my dad’s fucking shotgun and then my brother’s friends and then this whole towne and the one next door to it, too? i fucknig hate you guys, get it. my mum was from the ‘shhhhwahhhh too. but now we up over here on this side. nahhmean. so stay out of shelbyville. be FOREWARNED, you are not welcome here.
ebm is though, because she is friends with kevin who i was friends with first who is also or was friends with sebastienne and you know ive heard their side to your story abou tthat relationship, … anyhow. not my business. you should even let it go but you harbor the past and clutch it in your gut like poison because YOU m henry, u fucking never ever forget. well, please forget i exist. dont call me. dont show up. you can see me on tv next, i know you like to watch it.
hi everyone.
i dont even read my own blog anymore.
i dont even do a lot of things anymore other than be angry and riding on my longboard and watering plants, telling off kids and throwing rocks at pylons and getting dive-bombed by a dad pigeon and holding a roman candle towards anti’s face. oh, dont forget suburban summertime explosions of fireworks and stuff etc etc happy home, homemaking life. i spend all my money at the same three stores and my hatred for pepsi and mcdonalds, the machine, grows stronger, daily. i hate advertisers. i enjoy ripping people off. ripping off brands. brand names. especially if they’re old, reputible, really rich, “popular” “in”, i dont care. i dont care i dont care. i like to tear apart my clothing and put it back together with scotch tape and socks and nail polish with sparkles. im fuckin hot and slammin and the only not knocked up bitch in this towne and ive had it. send helicopters over my head, send niggers over my back fence, the fbi down my throat and then hidden spy cameras in canadian versions of the sizzler, americanised, nicely, perfectly, preparedly for the bombs going to be dropping on yalls heads up in thayah so then you safely, quietly, drive your homes up over northern borders, then, tony blair goes, whups bush, sawry there, mate gotta go where the fresh waters are, some of yous can come too but in this ole monarch of britain (canada), they be de-criminalizing that weed so of course, them borders’s that yousa been wanting to a been crossing, yah see, yah see how mucha harder themma borders gonna be to pass?
it’s not cool to be american right now. – anti.
u know, im offended that i am at the bottom, of your fucking gangstas list, under tony, then this james guy, goose, hose and then the ill fated fucking fat loser michigan ward guys and then, YOU have ANTI as a playa, in the middle of the list, right there in the fuggin MIDDLE. now, this bleat guy, your like, douglas coupland to my whatever, get it, got it, good? u want to fuck me. u like anti, but he is not in your top five men list… moreover, i am at the fucking BOTTOM of that same, all time fave list like john cusack said in high fidelity over and over, i have that book too, but the BRITISH version, the first version point-fucking-oh (to be 1.0 is the best, why? read MICROSERFS instead of this bleat guy), trev-or, and when you put the ultimate supreme being at the fucking bottom of the top five men list, she gets, super mega-pixel-dissed, and then, pissed, AND then and then..that BLEAst dude is all yah i wish i could write the BEAT instead of the bleat like me, a real beat to the nik.
beatnik shit. hes my 3rd cousin, jack kerouac and i’m assuming totally, a hunch that the bleat might be coined from the term the beat, u know therefore he might like jack, am i right? doesnt matter, that guy couldnt hold my attention for more than fuuuuggin five seconds because well, thats how fast i think. being young and modern and hot and sexy and all that is hard for me on my brain and everything. u know welp. lets see. u also, call this blog of yours, on the basic fucking template that i had FIRST since ’99, u call it, if i had breasts you’d read me, thats the first thing that got me mad. thats the loop, full circle, the title of this little essay, if you will, monologue, i dont care. pay homage properly to who you fucking steal links from hits from whatever. im west coast and fuck you for not realising sooner, for not putting my anti in the top 5 men and me not at the top of the ward, those are your friends? online buddies. nope. those are your i want lots of hits put them at the top do it for hits mainstream 18 yr old greedy guts way like everyone. newsflash, blogs suck. theres a quote for bumper sticker ads. once celebrities have these things, they suck. google jim munroe. my ex boyfriend fucker his now wife. nomediakings.org i found out about online journaling from the toronto star when i was like in grade 10 and he was talking about it and im basically saying, you gotta get a new way to get famous because it isnt all about blogs. it’s the tv box or a combination of the two or its books and words or being canadian (which by mtv terms, is so hot right now) or its canadians being silent and bitter and smarter and shit not caring, gentle calmed rage bitterness and than acceptance fore more races and stuff…better prepared. anyway i have a headache now, and yes, my brain hurts. it’s depleted of seratonin and all other fluids, i try and stay up as long as i canto convince myself of happiness and by the time i hit the pillow i have to be ready to sleep otherwise the act of lying there, is simply, the biggest most waste of my brain energy brain time. anti and i arent fucking. we are romancing much or any of that shit. my mum is driving us crazy. everything i say is true always and forever. its not all peaches n cream. my life is hard. so fuck you everyone. im hitting the ward next you fucking assholes. brainwash a nice boy like trevor, fuck you. i mean it. he is young and knows not what he sees because yeh, hes two years younger than me and anti is three years older there for, anti cancels you out on the fucking top five list and i dont even want to be on that list, or i do, it is irrelevent, this whole thing is to prove how smarter than everyone in the world i am or am not just by applying logis. i am only twenty. i have not gone to university. tho i went to south ucla of manhattan beach, to teach a room full of doctor-professors-students, just how much i wanted to think myself happy to get out of a psyche ward because yah, thinking evil things makes u feel evil and when people make so many mean comments to you or say things whatever, im basically an “online celebrity in a specific world” and fuck it, it made me smarter, meaner, bolder,dgdgrgre rightfully so, it saved me from myself all along. i am allowed to say anything i want. if you take it personally so much that you want to kill me like john lennon was killed, please know, that whatever it is that i said, im fucking not saying it directly outwards towards you, right at you personally, im probably generalizing, trying to do that bagism fagism shit, politically correcting, my un-pcness whatever, and yes, yes, i do have breasts and a vagina and maybe trevor if you changed yer template around a bit, or wrote for me, people would read you. yes you can write for me and be a guest on my show or some sort of lacky and also on tony’s show and mebbe ill think about having sex with younger boys, cause i am a cougar to you, and basically to anti kuz he has this thing for cougars and since i am an adult lady like firgure in public when i need to and want to be and a complete closet nymphomaniac who fakes being a slut all along wanting one person to beat the crap out of and hold hands with etc etc.
i invented whitey. i miss whitey.
tony is going to get me on howard stern in times squareD
please link me a lot. please make more people link me a lot. help me make a comeback. goes both ways, i help you, you help me, we help each other and then good things happen to us both, us all. i just wanna get all the stuff that i ever bought for myself, i want that back. i want my things back. my life back. what i own. i want to be able to not be angry at people anymore. i want to be able to forgive and one day, perhaps, forget how things turned out. i am very careful with the words i choose to type, to print and the names that i don’t name. i have my own assets to protect. i have my own shit going on, i just want to be a big famous famous super mega star but i can’t do those fun things right now like going out to bars and drinking and even smoking weed and karaoke too. it’s my heart, you know? and it’s my head. i’m too smart. i wired myself into this pool of geniusness, i had to because i had to prove that yes i am a genius, especially without college and/or university degrees. you teach yourself and then you remember what you’ve been taught all along. no one took me seriously, in real life, no one got it and then, if they did, they kept it to themselves and would not, for some reason, grant me the satisfaction of compliments and the like and then if they did, i was too busy listening to my inner-negativity and insecurities to realise that mebbe, yah, this person wants me badly or that person wants to be my best friend or my girlfriend or lover or pusher, pauper, pigeon, buddy, cousin…
i pleased too many people
every person i could
and now i’m working from the inside out
i don’t look in mirrors anymore and i don’t lecture into them. i try and tell people i am happy inside but all they hear is the manic tone and the anger rage and frustration and sadness that i kinda scripted all along and then they can’t believe that i actually am happy now because there is too much rage inside of me because there are certain people in this real world that wont return my calls now or txt messages and see things from their perspectives and several of them i have forgotten about those people for the time being, but i never fully delete them in my mind… i figured my way into this mess and i know my way out.
thank you for being my friend. everyone.
thank you.
and thank you internet friends the most. you helped me the most during a lot of bad times and i’m sorry if i was snarky to you, but you know, that’s my deal, say it like i see it and then you can have the next line, back at me.
d/l. pete yorn’s, life on a chain.
carlos d. butler
hoo ha ha in the end. i am not allowed to write for this blog. period.
you’re my sex bomb
the boondocks
another.com
k bye.
there is such a big space here.
do you wanna buy my stuff? like, lots of it? i think you should. email and tell me what you want, in general, assume i own everything because i do, and assume im going to mail it to you, because i will. assume i have things that are worth copious sums of canadian, euros, usd ,quids, whatever, artwork, dirty knickers, photos, xeroxed journal entries from 1996 or 1994, my own perspective, about kurt cobain when he blew his face off and how i am so smart and whatever you might want to own, your fucking self-educated opinion on whatever is ecclectic, antique, worthy of ownage, personal value…
i dont fucking care, do you want to buy my ant farms and magazines and shoes and socks and candy and scissors, tape, tables, books, this is my marketing tool. if one fool reads my marketing tool and buys a stool (no, not the sample) and pays me twool, american dollhairs..etc etc whatever just email me if you want something. everything is private and confidential and i am the boss therefore i can and will not hesitate to say no to certain things, however negotiations are simple to take care of.
mama did’nae raise no fool.
this is gnoll. he’s my biographer. he’s snarky and shit and older than dust and we use to date and but not really and now i can skateboard better than him i think but everyday he walks to work, even when it’s flying snow and slush kuz he was bred to be a bitter cold walk thru it anyway type guy. im going to help him get laid off from his work. that’s his dream. to be like me and not ever have to leave a house ever again. everyday i turn more and more into david letterman. people phobia. anyway, noel and that other guy nathan i think, he cuts hair, him and noel are going to need to talk to me more and film me being retarded again. eccentric. blargh. ill let you niggers know when the sex TV thing airs, it’s in june ‘stead of may. you haven’t missed it yet. have a nice day. me? i’m going to this orientation thing today they want to see if my liver is full of olives and stoli and vomit and urine, hehehh. this is so funny. and fun. my mum is driving me nuts. my mum is driving anti nuts. slkhf sd;fhds;kfhudsn;gkdhg;ldshg and we love her. i need breaks from everyone, everything, anything. i talk to animals now and they actually respond. it’s spring so theyre all getting un-knocked up by giving birth and shit all over my house and im like ahhhhh that fucking pigeon thing flew at my head kuz i was spying on my mom thru a window near this nest and i saw the thing come at me. the family of birds then decided to move their nest elsewhere. sorry. at least the babies hatched and shit otherwise the mum would eat them or something. she left one dude behind and i felt bad for him for a little while but eventually he flew away on his own like all birds realise they are able to do because they fucking have wings, right? but not til some predator comes along and stuff…. alright bye.
Dear Douglas Coupland
I no longer have a job.
I no longer have a “job-job” one of those real ones with a check every other week, you know what i mean?
Yeh, I no longer have one of those and it’s ok, it’s ok. I’m doing just fine.
Now I’ll have more of a disgusting amount of free time to sit around and make brilliant observations in an amusing light.
Maybe i’ll get welfare! cool!
Nawww. This career-change is suppose to motivate me to work harder and faster and get all the important things done and done right.
I saw my ex-boyfriend last nite. we went to his hotel and he told me about how he and she almost got arrested for prostitution. they were in the wrong part of town. it was a stroke of luck that i had decided to leave them at the bar and not stumble back to their hotel. perhaps things would have been different. meh.
My friend Jamie was suppose to meet you or you were suppose to sign this art book for some project he was working on over the past two weeks in Italy and your stuff is in the book too. he was suppose to walk up to you and tell you that you mean a lot to a girl living in the armpit of Toronto and then he would have given you my card with my url on it and email address and then you would have written to me and maybe be my friend.
things don’t always work out the way you want them to.
