Gut Rumbles

July 14, 2007

I'm sick of everybody

Originally published May 31, 2006

I have not been well for almost two weeks now. I'm talking about SERIOUS, FEEL-LIKE-I'M-GONNA-DIE sickness, and what I've managed to do during that time, other than cling grimly to survival, is make a few "friends" HATE ME because I didn't properly appreciate how much they "cared." At the risk of pissing those folks off even more, I have one thing to say:

With "friends" like YOU, I don't need enemies.

I KNOW that I have at least three wimmen pouting right now because I wasn't properly appreciative when they called me at fucking MIDNIGHT to ask me how I was doing when I quit blogging for a couple of days. Two of them are DOUBLY-PISSED because I didn't even bother to answer my phone when they called. In THEIR minds, I should have jumped right through my Cracker asshole and TALKED to them, no matter how inconvenient or painful it was for me to do at the time.

Somehow... I OWED them something.

What? WHAT do I OWE you? I am NOT unaccustomed to having a woman demand a check from me every month, and I've been paying THAT toll to the troll for five fucking years, despite the fact that I haven't seen or talked to my son since January. Talk to ME again about got-dam debt.

I became badly ill. I did not have a single ONE of the people who "cared" so much show up at my door and offer to nurse me back to health. Oh, no. I got fucking PHONE CALLS and I PISSED OFF some "caring" people when I said that I wasn't in the mood to talk, IF I answered the phone at all. They became very angry.

WTF was THEIR problem? THEY weren't puking their guts out and running a high fever. THEY weren't sweating, shivering and hallucinating at the same time. I WAS. But...

I should have leaped from my bed of affliction and shouted, "I'M CURED!!!" because somebody woke me from blessed sleep with a phone call. I should have said, "Thank Bejus you called!!! I feel MUCH better now!" ???? Gimme a break.

I've gotten along quite well by my own got-dam self for a while now, and I am convined that I can do it a little while longer the same way. If I need YOUR help, I'll ASK for it, and it will be a cold day in hell when THAT happens.

Some of you people MEAN well, but you're fucked in the head if you try to apply your version of "love" to someone like ME. I don't need it and I don't want it, especially when it's something that looks and smells a lot like fish food. I ain't a got-dam guppy in a fresh-water tank. I don't become hysterical over seeing crumbs in the water.

Plus, I have to wonder how much you really "care," when you become as angry as a wet wasp when I don't reciprocate with undying love for YOU over your "caring." What FOR??? Making a phone call ain't exactly like BEING THERE when I needed SOMEBODY.

When I had a hole in my gut and I KNEW that something was BAD wrong, I had to call 911 MYSELF and summon an ambulance to get my ass to the hospital and be rushed to emergency surgery. Who "cared" about that? Nobody but ME.

Just what the hell do you wimmen WANT, anyway?

I've got a sneaky feeling that it ain't ME, so let's fuggedaboudid. I could use a nurse, or a maid, but I don't WANT, CRAVE or NEED another wife. I would rather have a filthy kitchen than put up with another hormonally-crazed bitch in my life. I've TRIED that route. It was a bumpy road.

What I want most now is simple--- LEAVE ME ALONE!!! I'm okay taking care of myself without hauling any excess baggage around with me. And I ain't all that interested in sex anymore, which is bound to confuse some wimmen, because they still believe that THEIR pussy is the most precious commodity in the world. I should be willing to sell my SOUL for a piece of it.

Fuck that idea. I've SOLD MY SOUL already, in TWO marriages. I'm STILL paying CASH to a pure-ass CUNT for one of those failed attempts at normalcy, too. Pussy has been the cause of the greatest downfalls in my life, and I was taught to learn from my mistakes. I'm trying to now.

So... all you empaths, phone-sexers and pussy-peddlers can just kiss MY Cracker ass. I don't WANT what you're pushing, and I don't NEED it in my life at this moment. Hell, my sex drive is so low now that I don't even masturbate anymore. Besides, I've already had enough pussy to last most men five lifetimes. I don't REQUIRE any more.

And I damn sure don't require the head-problems that go hand-in-crotch with pussy. And I ain't talking about MY head problems, either, although I'll admit that I have plenty of 'em. It's just a simple fact that I have discovered through YEARS of research (and TENS OF THOUSANDS OF MY OWN DOLLARS spent on the discovery).

My conclusion is: ALL WIMMEN ARE CRAZY!!!

When you meet a woman for the first time, the only questions you need to ask yourself are--- "HOW crazy IS she?" (It's not a question of "IF") and "HOW MUCH will this one COST me for the pussy?"

Do I sound jaded and mysogonistic? Good. I MEANT to sound that way, because I AM jaded and sick and tired of pussy-toters. {Pussy always comes with a woman's head attached, and unless she's performing fellatio, that head is one spooky place.) Most wimmen make fire ants seem tame by comparison.

A lot of guys I know aren't much better, but at least they can pee outdoors while standing up. I'm sick of THEM, too.

Just leave ME the fuck alone.

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