Post Whatever You Are Thinking This Very Moment, Pigsty Edition

CrystalGeezer

My secret's my enzyme.
go on....
 

CrystalGeezer

My secret's my enzyme.
So I noticed this afternoon that my bird Jerry did another sculpture for me. He pecks his bread. He makes hearts and stuff on a slice of bread at the bottom of the cage. I feed him broccoli and green leaf lettuse because it’s healthier for a canary, sometimes my mom feels sorry for him and puts a slice of bread in his cage thinking he need to carbo load so he can sit all day in his cage singing to female canary that isn’t even present. Anyway, so today she put in an English muffin which is round and in the middle he pecked a circle. It’s the alchemical sign of the sun, a circle with a dot in it, like the Target logo, super GREAT stuff. So then I sat down and watched the first half of the Changling, sort of identified with Angelina’s character, presented with the wrong sun then as a cover-up by the corrupt police, basically accused of being crazy and sent to a mental hospital. I turned it off when the doctor suggested she was changing her story. As I was watching it I thought, “Oh, I could do a thing where I connect Morrissey with her son because he said “What difference does it make?” when being pushed into a police car and ME with Christine, the mom who everyone thinks is crazy, but I got to thinking…it’s these connections that imprison me. It’s this struggle, me trying to convince you guys that imprisons me because THAT’S the story that sells, this forcing me to believe and yearn and pine and you know what?

f*** it. All of you can f*** off as far as I feel.

It's a shame too because it looks like a really good movie. Maybe I'll finish it.
 

penfoldsfive

resident alien
So I noticed this afternoon that my bird Jerry did another sculpture for me. He pecks his bread. He makes hearts and stuff on a slice of bread at the bottom of the cage. I feed him broccoli and green leaf lettuse because it’s healthier for a canary, sometimes my mom feels sorry for him and puts a slice of bread in his cage thinking he need to carbo load so he can sit all day in his cage singing to female canary that isn’t even present. Anyway, so today she put in an English muffin which is round and in the middle he pecked a circle. It’s the alchemical sign of the sun, a circle with a dot in it, like the Target logo, super GREAT stuff. So then I sat down and watched the first half of the Changling, sort of identified with Angelina’s character, presented with the wrong sun then as a cover-up by the corrupt police, basically accused of being crazy and sent to a mental hospital. I turned it off when the doctor suggested she was changing her story. As I was watching it I thought, “Oh, I could do a thing where I connect Morrissey with her son because he said “What difference does it make?” when peing pushed into a police car and ME with Christine, the mom who everyone thinks is crazy, but I got to thinking…it’s these connections that imprison me. It’s this struggle, me trying to convince you guys that imprisons me because THAT’S the story that sells, this forcing me to believe and yearn and pine and you know what?

f*** it. All of you can f*** off as far as I feel.

It's a shame too because it looks like a really good movie. Maybe I'll finish it.
you dont know you have a friend over here? or maybe you dont care.
 

CrystalGeezer

My secret's my enzyme.
you dont know you have a friend over here? or maybe you dont care.
Oh I've got lots of friends, and friends in HIGH PLACES which is probably why you're so fucking friendly.
 

iamnicola

New Member
Bracelets
 

iamnicola

New Member
Thundercats! HOOOOOO!
 

CrystalGeezer

My secret's my enzyme.
If I have another fucking dream about an old man with a bimbo bouncing up and down on his cock, then I am going to personally see to it that I BECOME a bimbo who bites.

I hate my life.
 

CrystalGeezer

My secret's my enzyme.
i think you need to seduce a man and let out a lot of frustration. you can do it.
Actually, I don’t need to seduce anyone. I think I know what’s going on.

A number of years ago I worked as a front desk clerk at The Paso Robles Inn. It’s a hotel on top of a sulphur hot spring, they’d pipe the “healing” water into hot tubs in the rooms. Many nights, after all the mucky mucks and important people went home, after the restaurant was closed and all the housekeepers left for the night, the hotel and it’s 108 rooms were run by two people, myself at the front desk and Jose, the young Mexican kid who worked maintenance. He’d get lonely and come sit behind the front desk with me on slow nights and we‘d talk about his crummy love life. If there was a problem, someone would call me and I’d send him to fix it. Our combined salary was maybe $25 an hour, but when everyone was sleeping and relaxing, the whole point of a hotel, we were the only ones in charge. The hotel was too stingy to keep a housekeeper on duty so we did all of their work during the late hours, running towels and sheets out to rooms, that kind of stuff. As with most things, we were like the silent heroes of the business because the important people had offices and made phone calls and generated money and group stays and whatnot, it was only mine and Jose’s job to care for all the people they brought in after they went home at 6:00 and admittedly, it was mostly quiet and everything seemed to run smoothly.

So one afternoon my fellow front desk person (I worked a late shift, until about midnight, the second person would leave around 9pm or after everyone with a reservation checked in which was around 7) failed to show up for work and I was swamped. I got a call from a man claiming he was staying at the Motel 6 in Atascadero, the next town over, and asked if a van could pick he and his wife up and bring them to our hotel where he planned to stay. We had a courtesy van, I didn’t see a problem with that. I asked him how many nights he planned to stay and he maybe said three, I can’t remember, but it wasn’t just one night. I got his credit card info, we do this thing where we run a pre-authorization to determine that there’s enough money on the card for the stay, it like sets it aside for us to charge it, but we don’t officially charge it. So in a hurry and doing ten thing at once because I was the only person there, I accidently pre-authorized his card for only one day and it approved. Then I sent Jose to pick them up. About an hour later, Jose comes in white as a ghost, like he’d seen the worst thing ever. He told me that the people were creepy., that there was something odd about them, but he loaded their things into the room key I gave him before he left, I was trying to be efficient and ran the credit card and checked them in before he even went to get them. So to make a long story short, they were the guests from hell. In California there’s this law called “Squatter’s Rights,” that once you check someone into your hotel, you have no right to evict them and leave them homeless, any financial matter you have to take up in court and until then, they have every right not to leave the room. Once they leave the room you can lock them out, but until then, you can’t kick them out. They knew this and stayed about a week, all their credit cards were denied, I only got one day worth of money from their card but they caused thousands of dollars worth of damage. They smeared poop on the walls, they pooped in the carpet, a haz-mat team had to come out and inspect the room because of all the poop and blood they left. They threw food all over the room, It was bizarre, they were like the worst trolls ever and I was in so much trouble because I checked them in. But I did it on a day that I was alone and I didn’t know, I didn’t meet them. So it’s like now, cosmically, I’m dealing with the same thing. I don’t want to wake up to dreams of seeing people fucking and then feeling my head explode because I’m literally a ginormous dick, but it’s like there’s a not-so-wholesome presence squatting in my brain purposefully tormenting me because somewhere I screwed up. And so I go online and foolishly try to flirt with Morrissey and what I get instead is this shit and honestly? I just wanted to be loved. The minute I play the game thinking if I play, someone will love me, I get spooked and it’s taking a toll. I don’t care who has sex with whom, I just don’t want to see it, and it’s not that I’m a prude, I’m just private. Bleh. Fucking Hotel California. I think whatever I’m dealing with even this guy can’t help, unless he’s literally holding me while it happens, then it would be okay.

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penfoldsfive

resident alien
i know you guys dont know this about me, but i am a doormat. as of today, i am no longer that.if i come across as a dick so be it im trying to make upfor ages of being treated like a fucking child.
 

Theo

Active Member
I'm thinking I'd like to soil Robin Meade. Sorry.
 
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