213 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
213 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #730
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "I Am So Sexy"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Phairgirl
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 7/6/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I decided long ago that I am never going to have children, most
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likely never marry, and live my life the way I choose and never ruin the
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human race. See, every time I tell my mother this, she immediately retorts,
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"Well, you say that now, but give it five or ten years and you'll be living
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in the middle of suburbia with your husband and three kids." This is when I
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give my mother a very evil nasty look.
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She's lived with me since, hell, since I was born, if you exclude the
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two times when I moved out. She tells me daily what a pain in the ass I am.
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She can barely tolerate me. So what makes her think that I'm going to find
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anyone who will willingly put up with me? Without that "unconditional love"
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thing, I think my mother would be in prison for murder a long, long time
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ago.
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I know what you are thinking, reading this silly file, "Oh, silly
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Phairgirl! Another one of those girls who think that NO BOY WILL EVER LIKE
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THEM, well boo hoo!" No, it's not like that at all. Okay, sometimes I can
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be like that, I admit, it's that damn estrogen. However, to prove my point,
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I decided that maybe a list of non-compromisable issues and statements of
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fact would be in order.
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1. Everything annoys the hell out of me.
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This is a rather broad and over-general fact of existence; it is also
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absolutely and completely true. To narrow it down, in case you're REALLY
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INTERESTED, I will list precisely everything that annoys me.
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a. Scraping your teeth on your fork when you eat.
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b. Getting out of the car before I turn it off.
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c. Doing stupid macho driving thinks, e.g. peeling out, speeding
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over big hills, taking corners at no less than 849 miles per
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hour, spinning doughnuts.
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d. Putting the toilet paper on the roll with the paper coming off
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from UNDERNEATH.
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e. Changing the channel during every commercial break.
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f. Heat, in any way, shape or form. I prefer to live in a sixty
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degree environment.
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g. Baseball caps.
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h. Leaving your shit strewn everywhere across the room, for more
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than a week.
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i. Leaving the toilet clogged.
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j. Eating butter--straight.
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k. Ketchup on eggs or macaroni and cheese.
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l. The words "creamy," "meaty," "boost," "snack," and "hearty."
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m. Smacking your lips when you eat. Yechhhh.
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n. Leaving empty boxes/containers in the refrigerator.
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o. Putting pop cans and paper plates in the sink.
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p. Criticizing my music choices.
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There are many more, but I must move on, or this will be a 100K file.
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2. I like to argue, but only when I'm right.
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I love to rip people's ideas and opinions to shreds; however, if we
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are debating a fact, and I'm wrong (although obviously I'm pretty damn
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positive that I'm right), I don't want to argue about it. I prefer to live
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in ignorant bliss, maybe perhaps read the correct answer somewhere else and
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learn, but I don't want someone to argue the point to my face. I prefer not
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to feel stupid. However, I will stop at nothing to prove that you ARE
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stupid, should you challenge me on a point, whether you are right or wrong.
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I like to put something like this into an example: When I was about
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12 years old, I was playing Trivial Pursuit with my neighbor (note: I AM THE
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TRIVIA MASTER, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DEFEAT ME BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE) and the
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answer to some question was, on the card, "Judaism." Me, being twelve, did
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not think to say "judaism" as my answer, but rather, "jewish," because,
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criminy, I was twelve. My stupid neigbor said I was wrong. I yelled at her
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for about fifteen minutes saying it was the SAME THING, and she wouldn't
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listen to me. Finally my mom had to send her home because my whole face was
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red and I was within inches of killing her. It was great.
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Conversely, I was once having an argument (that I dare not repeat,
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because it made me look stupid) about ethnic slurs, and I insisted that one
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slur was for one ethnicity, while two people argued that I was wrong. Well,
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as I found out two days later, they were right, but I called them every name
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I could imagine that is synonymous with "stupid" and was ready for physical
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violence. Now I feel stupid. I just wish they would've let me think I was
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right and let it go, because obviously I learned better without looking like
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an ass.
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Don't call me a hypocrite, or I might have to kill you.
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3. My stuff is my stuff. Your stuff is my stuff.
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This one is easy; if it is mine, then nobody is allowed to touch it,
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drive it, play it, or mess with it except for me. However, if you buy
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something new, I want to play with it, drive it, turn it upside down, and
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take it apart. If I cook something, you don't get any unless I am feeling
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very nice and made a lot. If you cook something, you better share or die,
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or at least tell me beforehand that it's not for me so that I don't get my
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hopes up.
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If you believe in astrology, or at least find it interesting, I am a
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Taurus. In fact, if you read the description of a Taurus, it is me. My
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possessions are everything to me. If you steal from me, prepare to die. If
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you mess with my possessions, but don't ruin them, well, prepare to die
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anyway. However, I want everything I see, and if it just happens to be
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yours, you better at least let me play with it a little bit, or I might
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want to steal it. I won't steal it, but I'll sneak around behind your back
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and use it anyway.
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4. Children are evil little things.
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I really despise children. Okay, that's a little broad; I don't hate
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them all. I don't like kids before they learn how to talk and how to
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listen. I don't like kids after they are old enough to challenge my
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authority. Five year olds rock. After that, it's all downhill, and they
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need to stay very very far away.
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I am never going to give birth. First, it's yucky. I don't want my
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crotch opened up to unattainable widths and viewed by a hospital staff. I
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don't want to wear retarded looking clothes for nine months. But most of
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all, I don't want to have to take a baby home with me afterwards and have
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to lose forty pounds.
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This, although scary, yes, is not my real problem with having
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children: my mother has long since cursed me that I will have a child who
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is JUST LIKE ME. I'm not taking any chances. I was a pain in the ass to
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raise.
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5. I am a psychotic recluse.
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If everything I've said before is wildly exaggerated, well, this one
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ABSOLUTELY IS NOT. I hate people because someone always pisses me off for
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some reason or another. Either everyone around me is too stupid for me to
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comprehend, or they're all high and mighty and act like they're so much
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better than me that I'd rather kill them all than listen to their Honors
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Biology drivel for another nanosecond. It may sound odd that I have a
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wide range of friends and acquaintances. As my friends will gladly tell
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you, they all piss me off all the time and I can only hang out with them
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for a short period of time, followed by a week of recovery.
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Then, there's that "psychotic" part. I have this really odd disorder
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which is similar to manic depression, but it travels in superfast cycles.
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Rather than days and weeks of high/low periods like bipolar disorder, my
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moods will swing to extreme ends in a matter of hours... or less. If
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someone says something that catches me the wrong way, and I'm not in a
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decent mood, I will go psycho and need to be completely alone to deal with
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my depression. Conversely, I have also found myself doing incredibly stupid
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things because I have this insane natural high that makes me act obscenely
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silly and hyper.
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I suppose a bit of an example is in order for this one. Say I'm
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hanging out with my SIGNIFICANT OTHER, watching a good movie (good meaning
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lots of DEATH and BLOOD SPRAYING), and I seem to be really happy and
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content. In fact, I might be sitting upside down in the chair, talking in
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funny voices, and making up nonsense blues songs (I tend to do that a LOT
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for some reason when I'm hyper). Suddenly, my SIG FIG turns to me and says,
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"Will you knock that off? I can't hear the movie." Then, as the EVIL
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RUINER OF MY FUN watches the movie, I get all doe-eyed and wonder what I did
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wrong, and DO THEY REALLY LOVE ME, and AM I WASTING MY LIFE, and within
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minutes, I am in my room flailing about, trying to not think about pills and
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knives!#@! WHEE FUN!#@! Then my cat will do something funny, and I will
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laugh a lot, and I will remember when Effy changed the lyrics in that
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Stabbing Westward song to "I CAN'T EVEN SHAVE MYSELF" and in less than a
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half hour, I am back to normal, and watching the movie.
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Believe it or not, I am doing a lot better now than a year ago, and
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although that never happened, it's pretty close to what did. I'm not quite
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so off-kilter now, but then again, I don't have a SIGNIFICANT OTHER anymore
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either. YET ANOTHER REASON.
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6. I might kill you.
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Now, just in case there's someone out there who is thinking, "Well,
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Phairgirl, as idiosyncratic and hypocritical as you have painted yourself to
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be, you still don't sound all that horrible. Hell, I'd do ya," I must
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dispel all thoughts that I am attainable and tolerable: I have no qualms in
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killing another person if they drive me to it.
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If someone were to screw around on me, if someone were to lie to me
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about something pretty major, if someone hit me or my cats (I almost forgot:
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I am required, by virtue that I am alive, that I must always have at least
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two cats), then they are privy to death.
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When I was four, this friend of the family had this obnoxious
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daughter who always used to hit me. She was five. I was taught never to
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hit back. So, I told my mom that Keri kept hitting me. She got REALLY
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ANNOYED after about the twentieth time. Finally she said, "If Keri hits you
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again, beat her up!" Within five minutes, you could hear Keri screaming
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halfway across the neighborhood, as I had knocked her flat on her stomach
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and was sitting on her back, furiously pounding my fists on her.
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They peeled me off.
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It happened AGAIN ten minutes later.
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Keri was lucky; she was bigger than me and I wasn't all buff.
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However, I am fully aware that if someone were to provoke me, I would not
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just knock them down. I am big enough now that I know WHERE and HOW to hit
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someone. In fact, I would not be surprised in the least if the mortician
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had to knock me off three days later.
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As wonderful as this all sounds, I'm sure there will STILL be guys
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chasing me down and wanting to spend their lives with me. Some crazy fucker
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will most likely STILL want to endure a life with me as I yell at them to
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eat properly and argue with them that Mewtwo is NOT the coolest Pokemon.
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But then again, who can blame them? I'm a great lay.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #730 - WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 7/6/99 ]
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