I hate this default journal. So I'll be using the following instead.

http://asphyxialette.livejournal.com/

Three people to ask me if I was a ponygirl in the last few days.

Seriously? Are you old? Or ignorant? Or BLIND?! Or just a mixture of all three that make you stupid as fuck?

I'm a PUPPYgirl. Not a ponygirl. I don't like the idea of being ridden by some full grown yet pint sized man. That's not interesting to me. I want to be walked on a leash, not parading around in some makeshift horseshoes acting like a horse. A neighing human sounds stupid.

Not to shit on the other ponies parades. I just don't want anything to do with being, possibly being or exploring the idea of being a ponygirl. The entire kink of it is not mine and the next time somebody messages me they'd BETTER READ MY GOD DAMN PROFILE.

.____.

-huff.-

My last journal post got me many replies...

Not something I'd intended. I'm just purely not one to hide anything. I havn't read it again and I barely remember, save for a few, any of the things that were said.

I do remember being in a terrible head space that night though.

Lately I've felt lost. Completely lost. And I've received a few incredibly obvious replies about such a thing... as if I wasn't aware.

Due to the exhaustion diabetes was brought up. I'm going to look into that more..

But. The reason I came was to clarify that I don't generally feel like that all day long. Certain days, yes... but after losing my cousin in September, then having somebody else kill himself two months later... then have an old friend of mine's baby die on her at three months of age... it's been a rough six months. Not to mention parenting during all of this. And troubles with my baby's father.

My son is a total joy when his teeth aren't about to come in. So it's pretty easy there. Of course there are hard days, but the harder ones tend to come whenever I have to speak with his doner. I really wish, for the sake of my son and I that we didn't ever have to speak again.

...

I watched Up tonight, finally. As well as Wall-E recently. To take years to watch a Disney movie I was previously looking forward to is really saying something, but both of these movies came out when I was either depressed alone or depressed with M. So it took me a while to get around to watching them. Up I liked in particular because of the dog. And I'll explain why.

Near the end the old man tells the dog he's a bad dog, said dog... Doug? I think his name was... hides under the porch. A couple of minutes later, stuff goes on and the dog is at the front door, door opens, old man's perspective has changed and he listens to the talking dog say "I was hiding under the porch because I love you.."

and I just thought... god. That is so me. I had to pause the movie to day dream a bit about what it would be like to have a Master. One I could greet with barks and a wiggle of my butt. One I could whimper at when I've been bad... curl up around his feet and stare up at him with wide eyes. Begging for forgiveness and trying to receive that much loved praise.

I'll be turning 21 in a month now. 32 days exactly. I've achieved nothing. And I quite honestly think I'm okay with that for now.

I didn't graduate high school.

I don't have a job.

I have a son.

I'm not married.

I have no Master.

and my days consist of staying at home, caring for my child and hoping I don't hear from his shitty other half. Again... I think, I'm not entirely sure, but I think I'm okay with this.

Because I have other plans. My plan is to be a bartender until I think of something else I'd like to do. My expectations aren't high because my mother was/is a waitress and lives comfortably. All I'd like is to be able to get monthly waxes and afford it. Simple things. I don't want a lot. I'd like a place to live with my son, a car and to be able to afford a few things that I'd like a month. Aside from the things he and I need.

I also want laundry... wherever the hell I live.

And one day... if possible, I'd like to be able to hire somebody to come clean my house every now and then... because it'd be nice to not have myself or my son do it.

in my house... I don't want a TV on all the time, or constant noise. I don't want a huge TV in the living room... I want books in the living room. I want it to be a LIVING room, not a being room. But I would like to have a small TV in the bathroom. Who doesn't want that? And it doesn't cost much... and a remote that's bolted down right next to hand sanitizer.

in my house... I want everything to be mismatched and unperfect. I don't want things to all look the same, I want unique items. One of a kind. Some antiques, weird tables... strange lamps.

and a closet that has stick on dildos nailed to the wall taking up every available inch of space. JUST because.

I want to be able to afford to go to a counsillor that isn't there to help, but one that's just and only there to listen to you talk about yourself for an hour. What's so wrong with not needing help? What's so terrible about just wanting to start every one of your sentences with "I" for an hour and get no "I" in respose. Instead... "You."

Talking about myself is a terrible flaw of my own. And I'm just okay with it. I'm rather interesting and if I could I'd probably just talk to myself all day long. But that's crazy... so I talk to my son, cats and inadimate objects instead.

Other days I go practically the entire day without saying a word. And I have to remind myself to say something to my son for fear he may feel I'm angry with him. It's not that... some days I just have nothing to say and like the feeling of a closed mouth.

I have big feet. Size 13 womans. I just happened to glance down at my makeup mirror which is sitting close to me and it's pointed at my foot. I wiggled a toe and smiled at it. I'm fine with my feet. What I'm not okay with is the ugly shoes they have that fit them. I have to edit my own shoes to make them worth my time.

Big feet and big calves... so I'm pretty much fucked shoe wise.

I also find that jeans never fit properly. I was a size... 16 before my son and I'm a size 20 now. I had this issue before but now it's even worse because all jeans, stretch or not, dig into my stomach and split it into two. It's annoying. And if I get a bigger size where the waistband fits, my supremely awesome ass sags in the back.

it's terrible..

I would love to design my own clothes... and I'd say I don't have the time but that's a lie. It seems that for now I'd rather sit around and do nothing with the free time I do have.

and now it's 1:20. I should have been in bed an hour ago... but who's watching to make sure I am anyways?

had another little vision of myself and some... blurry idiot, running together. Me with a collar and leash on. That's the way I'd love to exercise. With my Master beside me. Like a real dog. Maybe that's what I'm waiting for.

-sigh.-

off to bed with me. Lest I get super moody on my son in the morning for, oh gosh, waking up and trying to wake me up. Like the log I am I just roll over and ignore him for another half hour.

x-x is that neglect?

XD

Watch a movie, feed my kid, change him, play with him, nap time. Watch another movie.

My life's on repeat. I don't know how to change it.

I'm so bored. And it's almost as if I refuse to go out. I'm so bloody tired everytime I wake up. I keep telling myself I need to nap sometime during the day, but I rarely take that chance.

If I could sleep forever, I probably would. I wish I could raise my son while asleep. That'd be the life...

Eat, sleep, movie, child. Eat, sleep, Zelda, child. Not in that order. Child before all else... but still.

I feel confined to my own house. Like I've put myself under house arrest. I'm too paraonoid to go out. Too scared. Why am I so scared? Something that can only be known once you've dug deep.

I stopped brushing with Sensadyne. The commercials are right, my teeth hurt again. Except it's nearly all the time now. Breathing in hurts. And I hate ice cream again... that's a good, and a bad thing I suppose.

To boot. I'm getting fat. And not... well distributed fat, just fat. I sit, depressed, and eat.

In debt, still. Living with my mother and son in a cramped ass little house. Too fat, lazy and stupid to pull myself up out of fucking welfare.

Worst part is, I'm not even ashamed to admit it anymore. Just pissed off that this is where I'm at in life.

I constantly give pep talks to other people, and it helps them. Where's my lift up? Where's my pep fucking talk? Nowhere. Ever. Not from anybody that matters.

Random messages are nice, but they mean nothing. I don't know you. I'm never going to meet you. God only knows how long we're going to be fucking talking.

My few friends I had... have. I guess... one I'm pissed off at for being an ignorant bitch. The next has a boyfriend who busies her constantly. Then theres my baby's father who I can't trust to even leave with our child without wondering if I'm going to be able to go there and pick him up again. Thinking he's gonna off and run away with him for god sakes.

My mother? Too long of a fucking story to bitch about.

I'm in a rut. I need help. I need... love. Again.

In order to love, I need to get out... and that's where it stops. I don't want to go out. I wake up in the morning exhausted, take care of my kid... barely droop through the day no matter how much OR how little I sleep.

I'm starting to wonder if it's because I'm fat. I know my eating habbits are some straight up bullshit. They're terrible. Pudding, pizza, take out. Mushroom soup, rice, chicken. Nothing's healthy. Butter, oil, fried. It's terrible. But I love food. I love it because it makes me a tolerable mother. I'm not bitchy when I'm full. Food doesn't equal happiness... but it's as close to happiness as I can get right now.

How depressing. I hate sulking.

I want to go to the gym so badly. I love running. It's great. But there's nobody to take care of my kid. And I'm too ashamed to be that fatty on the lawn trying and failing to lose weight.

I realized the other day that a collar that was loose on me when I was pregnant is now getting too tight. Neck fat? Seriously? That's where my life has come to?

Neck fat... back fat... thigh fat... a big gut. I feel disgusting.

Worst part is the statistics are against me. It's been proven time and time again that it's cheaper to eat crap food than it is to eat healthy. Any health nut will disagree... but I can see how it's true. A meal at Mc Donalds, though I don't eat there anymore, is 5.50. Plus your taxes, so about six bucks. You feel full. Gross, but full. A pop, fries, burger... and desert, seven bucks.

Box of KD? Two dollars. Hot dogs... four. Together? Six. Glass of milk... 75 cents. Napkin? Ten cents. 6.85. Detergent to wash dishes after. Or power to run the dish washer. Except I did all the cooking.

My son goes through a can of formula in four days now. 25 dollars a pop. 200 dollars a month. Diapers are 80. 300 dollars a month on food and diapers alone. Let alone clothes, wipes, detergent... bath soap. Toys.

Money worries never end. But the stress is a lot deeper than being overweight and broke. Cause if it was just that, I could fix that. That shit is easy to fix. There's something wrong with my mind. I feel broken.

Broken on the inside..

Sin City New Years!

To say the least, I'm stoked. :3

Have my little outfit planned... Fixed what needed to be fixed. And off I go.

Babysitting is arranged. No sleepovers as I need to be here in the morning... but that's no problem.

Update on the wildness is yet to come.

Drawn on eyebrows look creepy and unnatural. They also scare me.

The End :3

Cutting can be a fetish... can't it?

Glanced at my sliced up arm tonight and smiled, then asked myself the same question.

I can only do it to myself though... anybody else cuts me, or it's mistaken pain and I flip out.

<3 Bed time.

Getting tired of the 'fakes' talk that I hear on this site... constantly.

Stop bitching. No matter where you go and what you do, there are fakes. I seem to find my way around fakes and dickholes pretty easily... so why are you so dumb?

I can spot a fake girl from a mile away. One look at the picture and generally, it's done.

There's a handful of women on here who do the bathroom-pose. And even fewer who are incredibly hot while doing so. Those would be Facebook girls. This is a kink site. You know... collars, nipples, cunts out?

Not saying everybody on here is fat and ugly, but realisim would be appreciated.

Stop starting conversations with me with messages containing 'it's so nice to find a real girl on here.' Seriously? Why not just come right out, call me fat and see how that goes. Be honest atleast. I mean, I know what you mean.

I'm a fat, bitch. I'm alright with that, don't get me wrong... but don't beat around the fucking bush.

Just because you're mad because every single chick that you find too hot for you turns out to be some transexual male wanting to quote, unquote, "relocate" and gather YOUR funds up to do so, does not mean I want to hear about it.

I have a kid to take care of, laundry to do, dishes to wash, etc, etc. Your bitching is not on my list. Bitchy men... is my anti-interest.

I'm a bitchy woman. Bitch + bitch = unavoidable breakup.

...

Got another message from yet another woman the other day too. Nothing wrong with that. What pisses me off is after reading the message my son started to cry. So I walked off to tend to him, only to come back to an impatient message of 'well I messaged you, you read it, and didn't reply. I tried!' Seriously? It took me less than five minutes and tend to my child, then come back to click 'reply' and see my 'new messages' was red. Checked, and that message was there.

This is the reason I cannot, and will not date women. They're impatient little twats. Men have much more patience for that sort of shit than I do. I, myself, am impatient. And do not deal with other impatience very easily. Let alone when my profile says straight.

Straight does not mean I'm gay on the weekends or every siesta. It means if you have a cunt, DO NOT SEND ME A MESSAGE!

I don't even get along with women. Let alone date them. I have... three girlfriends.  That's it. And those friends have been friends for YEARS. Hence the reason we're still friends. They know the kind of crap I tolerate, and don't.

...

And on a sadder note... I still miss my cousin. Daily. Hourly. I went to the new Harry Potter movie last night. [fuck you, I LOVE Harry Potter. The books are fantastic, movies suck, but as a fan... I need to see them all to pass proper judgement] Aaaaand... someone dies. >> Won't dive into who, incase you're interested in seeing the movie, but, said character dies. And other character comes over and says to character holding dead character, 'you should close his eyes. Then it'll look like he's sleeping.' And I burst into tears immediately because my cousin's... eyes had to be forced closed because he died with them open. And it looked... ugh. Either way, it made me sob. Horrible. Stupid movies... with death scenes.

...

Also, stopped talking to somebody recently who I had a few conversations with previously. Quite a few rather. And every encounter we've had since he told me I should abort my then 2month pregnant belly because he's known a lot of young mothers who have been bad. I stopped speaking to him because I thought his face was bullshit, started again for whatever reason.. didn't ever get a real apology from this so-called man. I call him a so-called man because a real man can apologize when they're wrong. And telling somebody you barely even know to abort because he's scared she's gonna be a bad mom based on OTHER younglings he's know.... I mean seriously? Go fuck yourself.

So recently he asked if I was going to a fetish gathering. I said no, based my reasons on:

I have no shoes.
It's going to SNOW this weekend, backing my reason of I have no shoes to wear.
It costs me 50 dollars to even leave the house for babysitting for the whole night.
Liquor costs more money.
And a cab home because I don't ride with drunks. Which will cost aproximately 70 bucks from there to my house.

His reply, okay, whatever.

To me the word whatever is a no no. It's a fuck you. It's... annoying. Children age 5 say whatever. My MOM, an alcoholic, says whatever. Don't say it to me.

So I ask 'why the assholish response?'

And basically I get back [cannot quote, but this is the jyst. No, not changing anything] "You're making excuses, it's not snowing where I am right now, shoes is an excuses, blah blah."

Okay, asshole. You're going to tell me that because it's not snowing where you are right now, it's not snowing? And because you  were where I am a few hours before and the snow wasn't sticking, IT'LL NEVER SNOW AGAIN?!

Fuck you. You know it all, arguementative son of a bitch.

And shoes? I have holey sneakers. I am not going out in those. What else do I have? Flats. My feet are large, it's not easy for me to find shoes. Shoes my size cost 100-200+.

Then he proceeds to say I was arguing, not him. I have no wonder why his so called heart,  as cold and DUMB as it is, was broken by his last sub. I'd never in my life deal with that kind of bullcrap from a fat old man.

-sighs.-

And now because he's tied into the fetish community far more than I am, I'm going to have to deal with whether or not this idiot is going to talk shit. And if he does, have to defend myself. Again.

I could easily name him, as he's on this site. But I won't. I'm better than that.

We've gotten into stupid arguements about nothing too many times for me to want to try to salvage a friendship with such a judgemental, bitch of a man.

Anyways. I need to go shower, shit and shave. [lol] Then go out for groceries. <3

So to all of those with the messages of condolence to what was posted in my journal earlier...

 I thank you. But it was only there because I couldn't copy the entire thing into Microsoft Word. For some reason, trying to paste something that big won't go into word, but it'll go in here. Strange, right? So until I was finished the book of mourning for my cousin, it needed to stay. Hence, why it's been taken off now.

It's been a long two months. Lots of tears and of course, drama. My baby's father had a death in the family a little under a year ago and I was more than willing and happy to be there for him. His sister died after losing the battle to cancer that she ventured for four years. They knew it was coming. So did she. And she was accepting of it.

My cousin, on the otherhand, died at 21 just shy of his 22nd birthday for no reason. And it took us all by surprise. I'm sorry to say, but those who have experienced a cancer death and only a cancer death, or a death of an aged family member do not know the kind of pain you face by a death that comes as a shock. It's a different kind of pain. When my grandmother passed, we all knew it was coming. And although we cried, it was her time.

Cancer, although different, and often at younger ages, can be a predictable death. And although I wouldn't wish that on anybody, it's different. My baby's father was not there for me as I was for him and in reality, I think I needed it more than he ever did. He seen his sister a handful of times in his entire life, but cried for a month straight about it. I grew up with my cousin daily and seen him weekly even as we got older. The difference in pain is mountains away. And yet... here I am. Alone. Having him bitch at me about how I'm lashing out. I mean... come on. A little compassion. Or, just, go fucking die. You son of a bitch.

So as of right now, we're on horrible grounds. And I hate his mother too. That lying, deceiving cunt of a bitch. She's done nothing more for her son than passed on her two faced-ness.

=/ Now that, THAT rant is done, time to start with the others.

I'm getting... sick. And I do mean truely sick of the fifty year old fucks who constantly hit on me. I mean seriously? Leave, me, ALONE! I'm not interested. Not even in a conversation! If you're 40+ get the FUCK off of my profile. Don't favourite me, don't message me, don't... ANYTHING! I'm NOT INTERESTED!

I don't want you to be my old, wrinkled daddy who wants to dress me up in diapers and care for me you perverted old fart. I don't want your soon to be permanently flacid dick inside of me, at any point in my life. 30's I can deal with. My baby's father is 32. Late 30's... getting annoyed, generally, by the age difference and how apparent it is when it comes to how differently we think.

Age is just a number, yes. But you're number... is too high. I don't want it.

And call me racist, but I don't want brown in my life. I've had too many girlfriends around where I live beaten up by brown chicks for taking their 'good' brown guys. So to save myself from the family, and friend drama. I say no to brown. Black, fine... Asian, sure! HISPANIC! Who cares! Everybody else seems to be accepting except Indian women and families. So please, as good looking as you may be, no more Indian men. Be understanding. I choose safety over being burned alive under a bridge for being white.

What else... Oh. K9 invites? Seriously? Need I say anymore?? Being a puppy girl doesn't mean I want to suck and fuck the next dalmation I see you dumb, FUCK! It means I'm jealous of a dog that I see walking down the street that has it's leash yanked and gets a tap across the nose when walking ahead of it's Master. I see a confident man running down the road with his trusty pup and whimper inside for something like that.

Being a baby girl means I want a strong, loving, caring, guilding... YET strict man in my life. I want somebody who can represent me, and himself. It does NOT mean I want a man triple my age with enough gray hair to cover both of our heads.

And I may be a little fattie myself, but I'm not looking for a 300 pound man to crawl into bed with. How, in the world, are we supposed to have sex? You need a skinny and a skinny, or a fat and a skinny to have good sex. Two fats = a broken bed and flopping over eachother. Not interested. I may like my men to be beefy, with nice tummies on them for the pushin'... but that does not mean I want to be caught with you at Mc Donalds every two days. I like that kind of sex that pounds into you. The kind where your slammed into a wall and drilled 'till you cry. Not the kind that a man who huffs and puffs going up some stairs can give you.

And for now, that's it. Time to watch How to Train Your Dragon <3

Out of depression, forgot to mention.

I went to Sin City in Vancouver the other night. Had a total blast.

I were a dragon ;D

twas loads of fun. Definately going again, that's fo'sho.

As of right now... I find myself going through mood swings I thought I grew out of years ago. Out of the blue I get sad, uninterested, can't concentrate on barely anything. I want to just curl up... Exhausted too. Hopefully my son goes down for a longer sleep this afternoon and I can get an hour or two of napping in.

It seems like no matter how much or how little sleep I get I wake up exhausted. Too much is going on...

I want to look forward to things again. I wish I had a distraction. I wish I could... escape.

I need to invest in an eject button.

Worst part is I'm over eating. Like. Everyday. And although sometimes I care, most of the time I just can't give a shit enough to stop. I was on this healthy tangent before I left for my trip... and now I'm back to eating total crap. Because I gave in on my trip due to 3 days on a bus THERE and was faced with vending machines and gas stations most of the way there. And if it wasn't that it was Mc. Donalds or... Sonic.

I feel like hell... I want to go out. I want to go for a walk... but I find it depressing going out alone all the time. I'd go with a girlfriend but... it's not the same.

I miss, so dearly, going out with somebody I enjoy being with. It's been years.

I heard from my uncle the other day that my aunt and uncle were napping upstairs together... and that made my memory flutter into places I wish it hadn't. A time where myself and my ex would get tired and go upstairs, lay down together and just... nap. In eachother's arms. It was the best time of my life. Best part was he didn't snore.

Depression. God it hurts. It's a clawing thing. It comes in waves. I wish I could forget about it again, put it in my past. But all of these emotions are things I havn't felt for months, possibly years... I know it's been ages since I had such a strong desire to cut.

I refuse to though. My son needs a mother who doesn't harm herself. Atleast not like that. A mother who can truely say 'I gave up cutting to make sure you knew I sacrificed for you.'

I miss my ex. I miss my other ex. I miss my Daddy... my Master. My guide. My leader. My leaders...

I don't miss M. Strangely enough. I'm back to feeling the way I did when we were first dating. If it's over, it's over... and I need to be happy about that. Because he called my family shit and that's a line that can't ever be crossed again.

I should go lay down... I think I will.

Wow. So I clicked the video entry shaz...

Somewhere around six hours ago. And only just realized that even without clicking done, it posted. Thanks CollarMe! Now whoever has creeped my journals in the last few hours has seen me sleep deprived, unshowered, unmakeuped and sitting, blank faced staring at a camera with my son in my lap.

THANKS!

x-x; Wonderful.

So... I like to be beaten. And I don't mean I like to have a slap across the ass every now and then, no. I seriously enjoy body bruises. I hate things like being spanked, biten... whipped. No I like good old fashioned fists, slaps and knocks to the face, body, anywhere really. I like being thrown around, tossed, hurt, screamed at, yelled at. Made to bleed. Fat lips, black eyes. I like it. Is that a bad thing? I'm not ENTIRELY sure if I'll attract the right kind of man with that in mind.

I even enjoy, severely, being degraded and yelled at in public. Being forced... [that term is used losely, please no more messages about what the term forced means to you. I... SO... do no give a shit.] to be that little puppy who is made to start at the ground, come when called and barked at for being bad when around others... and even going as far as to have to explain to an over concerned [against female abuse] citizen that I enjoy the treatment.

Now, the thing is... This cannot ever happen infront of my son. The degree of Domination that I enjoy cannot be portrayed around my son because he cannot get the idea that mommy is a little bitch to treat how he pleases. Mommy is an authority figure in his eyes and always damn well will be. Anybody who tells me differently is going to get a knife in the sac. While sleeping and completely defenseless.

This MAY also be why I refuse to date skinny guys. On once side, I'm a plus size girl and it just looks weird. On the other, I want a guy who I know, for a fact, can throw me around, over power me... The works. I want somebody who can push me to the floor and keep me there despite my struggles. I want a man I know can pick me up, if need be. Without going 'uff.'

So. I'm a puppy girl who likes to get beaten. I love the looks I recieved the other day at the grocery store when I went in with a fat lip. The concern, the wonder... The attention. What a little attention whore I am. I'll do just about anything for it.

Then I just kept admiring my lip today. Smiling at it. Every chance I get I'm in the mirror, staring at it. Posing with it. It's like an accessory to a little pain slut like myself.

But only certain types of pain. I'm an ex cutter, and I never could stand it when other's would cut me. I could slice my arms to ribbons and watch the blood drip onto the carpet, enjoying each rip through my own skin with the individual Venus razor... yet... If another person cuts me it sends shivers of hate through my body. I want to attack that person, to rip them appart. I guess it's MY thing and it's getting taken away from me in a way that makes me blood thirsty. And biting, just another form of pinching and who like to be pinched? Needles, nuh. Burning? Burn me ONCE and I'll show you what happens to even the most powerful men when I go apeshit on somebody. This spirit will never be truely broken. Scratch me? You officially have bitch nails in my books and that's utterly unattractive. I scratch you, you don't scratch me. I'm a bitch, are you? Exactly. No excuses for that crap. What else... Oh. Spanking and whipping. Now spanking I hate because... To be entirely honest I'm not sure. It's an annoying pain that I just cannot bring myself to enjoy. I always get angry... And lastly whipping. What, again, another annoying pain. So I guess it's down to face slapping, punches and other forms of semi-torture for this little puppy girl.

Oh the hardships I must endure... ;D

I find it disgusting...

That so called men on this site post pictures of their stupid cocks all over their profile. It's degrading, and for a Dom... I think degrading is the last way you should be trying to represent yourself.

The worst ones are the profiles where there's one facial, if any and the rest of the pictures are all dick and balls.

Am I the only chick who doesn't want to see your nasty, uncircumsized cock? Or have you been talking to a whole lot of skanks, OR men... pretending to be women.

Sorry boys. I don`t need your dick in my life. I need a real, respectable man who doesn`t think flashing his crackhead abs finished with an oversized cock is the way to lure in a lady.

Intelligence. A fun conversation. You knowing a little too much about how I act and why. THAT`S what I want.

This brings me to my second issue. Can you atleast READ my entire profile before messaging me? Why do you think I'll ever take the time to read you're profile, or even give you a moment to think about it if you havn't even read that I only date WITHIN MY DECADE! And this, for me, is pushing it. Men out of my decade realm do not, EVER, understand my truely sick sense of humor, get my loathing for most of humanity or tolerate my constant swearing. I don't need some 50 year old man talking about 'when I was a kid' in year 1966. I'm good!

Tata now. Tata ;3