I'll help you with the noose if you can't get it round your ass

The entry below is taken from the diary of a confused member of the human race, a victim of her own shallow devices, and slave to her bimbotic, coquettish nature.

"I've proved to myself that I can be likeable (and almost popular) if I try hard enough. I should be happy, right? Not really. Which kinda bothers me. I get the attention, I get the gossip (not that I want any of it) and I'm in 'the group' of the class.

But really, it fuckin' bores the skulls out of me. (An expression derived from 'I will fuck your skull' from the movie, Addicted to Love.) Like my previous post, everything that comes out of their mouths is related to sex. Sex, sex, and more sex. Jeez! Why don't we just have one big orgy and be over and done with it? (I'm totally kidding of course, I'm saving my virginity to my lucky/unlucky husband to be).

My friends' lack of 'substance' suprises me. I look at them and they look so 'adult' like they should know better than me. But I often wonder if they are even capable of having a decent conversation. Decent I mean, not using the words fuck, sex, cock, dick, balls & pussy. I can never ever tell them any personal stuff/details. To them, nothing is private. I feel like they really don't like each other but stick together anyways because there's power in numbers. I'm such a hypocrite, I know. But at least I'm not a back stabber. I don't spill private/personal details about them or talk behind their back. I'm just complaining about their attitudes.

M once told me that you attract people who are like you. That your friends are a reflection of your own personality. Am I like that? Have I become them? Am I them? God, I hope not. I read books cohesively, I'm an English Literature student, a Biology student, a Head Prefect, cheerleading captain...I mean, all that has got to have some worth, right?"

The disgusted and disgruntled author of this blog, and as the extremely exasperated godsister of the above, says:

Firstly, M is wrong. You attract people who are like you? Oh, then can he explain the stupid guys who abuse the English language, who torment it with bad diction, batter it with incorrigible pronunciation and accost it with such gusto, who used to go after me? Maybe THE SISTER attracts a different species. I don't know. M must be overgeneralizing. He won't go far in life.

Secondly, procreation is an integral part of life, and you can't stop anyone from spewing out the sex lingo, my dear Shakespeare fan. I hereby say, with enthusiastic reverie, "OH FUCK. SHIT. BALLS. PUSSY. DICK. COCK. CUNT-RY RETREAT." I have such an extensive language of the lingo, not because I'm vulgar, but because I read Shakespeare and Wycherley and other Elizabethan and Jacobean authors. If you were such a hardcore Literature student as you claim you are, how come you don't know that William Shakespeare was a dirty and explicit writer? Some of his plays are downright bawdy and crude, with sexual puns and jests punctuating most scenes?
As in Measure for Measure, it has been mentioned that Angelo turns horny when he sees the pure innocent nun, Isabella, because he says this, "My sense breeds with it." In case you, my dear Literature student, are now reading this with horrified gasps, spluttering with indignance, I shall make the brief effort to explain. Simply put, Shakespeare means Angelo's got a huge erection and he can't help but fantasize about defiling her. Defile? What's that? It means he wants to make her dirty because he's just a fucking big fetish about nuns and thier chastity.

You're just a big shallow pit. There's more to life than this. THIS SHIT that you're living. Geesh. You're like Mamasan.

Some worth? Only if you made good of those opportunities which passed you by. Head Prefect. Cheerleader. Biology student. English Literature student.

What's so great about those? I was a prefect. A cheerleader. A straight A student. An English Literature student. A Geography student. An Economics student. A Math student. But through all that I managed to learn. I don't need to be popular. I don't need to be the hot topic of the day. I'm just me, at the end of it all. Me. I'm insignificant. I don't need to get famous purposely. I ride on the waves of fame only when chance is the wind behind it.

I am a poster ad model. I'm constantly in demand by clients.

But still I do know, it's love and the strength inside that will tide me over. Because I've lived my life. I've searched for the meaning. Asked questions that I can't answer. And to this day I haven't found the answers.

Maybe it's time you stopped looking. I did.

Go figure. Go hang yourself. Bitch.