|Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.|
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?
Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
|05 Aug 2003||Lucy Cortina||Wow Mouchette, 2 holidays. Who is paying for the babe-filled trips to Barbados? I expect you have a day-job as a pornstar or something.
Meanwhile, for Lucy, it was one of those nights.
I had invited my bezzie mate Felicia over for a girly evening, so she hoisted her hefty new bosoms over to my place. It was a bit of a a squeeze getting her through the door, but we managed.
We had the Doritos out and Pachamama wine. In approx 40 minutes time we would be as trollied as skunks and doing dares involving root vegetables.
"Look at my new bag!!!" trilled Felicia. I stared at it. It was sort of pink and frilly, with a leather strap.
"What about it?" I said, which was when Felicia grabbed my head and shoved my nose right into the bag. After regaining my composure, I stared at the bag for a long time, as I knew that you have to let Felicia have her way or she gets a bit ratty and can steal your underwear.
So I kept staring at the pink bag.
It looked like a lesbian overnight bag.
Uh oh, I had thought too soon. At that moment, Felicia said "I love you Lucy!!! I love you!" and tried to kiss me.
I managed to fend her off with a french baguette in the end (french men make very nice baguettes, as Mouchette should well know).
Once she was out of my front door, she started making a fuss out in the street, but people probably dismissed her as a drunk coming home from a heavy night at the corner pub. She kept yelling and yelling in the street, asking me to look outside or open a window for her.
But nothing in the world would make me open my glistening curtains to her.
The moral? Lucy doesn't do lesbianism.
|20 Jul 2003||Lucy Cortina||Ooh Mouchette you wicked boy. Sneaking off on one of your dollybird filled naughty holidays eh?
Remember when you see a lady walking along the beach wearing a pink bra with the hugest breasts you have ever seen, remember that it is...
|08 Jul 2003||Felicia had a breast implant done.||You know, I was always wondering about Lucy Cortina and Billy the Freak. I read all of Lucy's posts. Then I read Billy's. Yes, Madame Lucy, I am but nosey rather than big busted and I'm one of your greatest admirers who wished to have replicas of your wondrous casabas.
One night I was looking at the SPICE channel for a good hour. I analyzed it and realized that all these entertainers had breasts enlargements the size of cantaloupes with marshmallow-like qualities. Most of the girls were lesbians I suppose, so if I stared long enough, no doubt, I think I might be lesbian; However, I like men at the same time, especially the ones with effeminate qualities like Clay Aiken of American Idol. (Sorry Clay, you kind of stick out like Barry Manillow in the crowd. But I bought the front cover of you for the Rolling Stone. I still love you though.)
Well anyways, one day, I took a trip to a breast surgeon. Paperwork had to get filled out and I was wondering if I had insurance coverage for extensive cosmetic surgery. In the charts, I was advised if the surgeon can suck out the fat from my tummy and stick it in my chest or use that silicone stuff that Demi Moore and Carmen Elektra uses. I decided to go for the works. In a display case, I saw the silicone models and picked up each one to feel the texture. One felt cushy like a slipper sea urchin. It wiggled like jello and it slid out of my hand into the plastic case. The second one felt like a sandwich bag filled with silly putty. It just felt so artificial and pokey. The third one felt like a silk glove, so I chose that one. It balanced so perfectly in place. After my selection, the doctor got a marking pen and placed circles and lines all over my upper chest, and I was given chart diagrams for particular breast sizes. Staring in the mirror for a long amount of time, I looked like the directional chart for a football game strategy itinerary.
That final day came when the anesthesiologist put the triangular orifice over my teeny flat nose and mouth. Under my hospital gown, my boobs were covered. A breathing respirator was to my left, and a needle was placed in my right arm. The anesthesiologist directed me to count from 100 backwards. I did.
100...99...98....(my head started buzzing and everybody sounded like children on helium.)
(Then lights out.)
I slightly woke up again and felt my head circling from nausea. There was Lucy Cortina standing before me in doctor garb. OMIGAWD!!! She's a doctor. She took her doctor hat and facemask off and whispered in a sweet voice;
"Now Felicia. Abracadabra! You now have wondrous casabas!"
An hour later, I was then wheeled to the recovery room to have relief from the surgery. Three weeks later it was time to have the stitches removed. Bandages were still in place and lights all pointed to my chest. Dr. Cortina removed the bandages and removed the stitches, and later I stared into the mirror. My mouth flew open wide.
- to be continued till next week.
|03 Jul 2003||Lucy Cortina||For some reason there are a lot of wobblers in the town where I go to college.. I think it must be a special fat town, like when they have special beaches for people who like to go nude etc.
Not that I'm complaining.. life could be worse.
|27 Jun 2003||Lucy Cortina||Just agirl and co, life IS what you make it. If you think it's shit and you're a freak, hell, you will be. Ignorance is bliss, and what you think becomes true.
Like me, I kept on using daily affirmations and saying to myself "these former boobies WILL grow back to their former glorious selves". And surprise surprise, they are back! Ok, so maybe a surgeons knife gave them some assistance, but that's life innit!
My life is full of madness all the time. I used to donate sexy pics of my boobs to porn sites. I pressed my hefty weighty breasts onto the scanner, and they came out as big as Pamela's. And that wonderful thing my nipples do when I press them against a cold window! It's so glorious! I was reduced to this just so I could afford some NEW boobies.
But I take it all in my stride. Boobies, bras, my sister, poop in my bed, it all happens, and I get suicidal.
Why else am I on this website.
|21 Jun 2003||Lucy Cortina||People may be wondering if I finally did the decent 'thang' and killed myself. Sadly, you won't find me hanging from the shower curtains of President Bush's en-suite.
No, I'm still here. In a library. Looking at a suicide website. Librarians walk past me in disgust. They have nothing better to do than pass judgement. Their lives are filled with powdering their delicate noses, walking around in slippers, and engaging in lesbian acts in the resource room.
But me, I'm here having just been on a trip to the Bronte museum. How.. er... exciting it was. The debate of the century was... whether or not Mr Bronte was, ahem, 'gay'.
Yup, Lucy's still here.
|05 Jun 2003||Lucy Cortina||Too true Felicia. Every day is your birthday, and everyday is a day for boobies.
Weekend is for cocks.
|03 Jun 2003||Lucy Cortina||Just a girl, thankyou. Thinking of my boobies up there, wearing silken flowing bras and dancing in a ring with other well-known boobies (like Lolo Ferraris), it brings me such joy. I only hope they are permitted by the Head Boobie to join in fun and games with the Dicks (a la the 'boys'). Yes, 'tis a nice thought.
It proves that the bond between woman and bosom can never be broken.
|03 Jun 2003||Lucy Cortina||A friend of mine was discussing with me last night, apart from "boobies", forms of suicide. She thinks that getting a gun and shooting yourself will work. Then she paused and said, "But won't you go to jail for attempting to murder... YOURSELF?!" Stupid, stupid, I know!
Then her mummy said "You would be locked up in a secure mental hospital".
So there's my answer, huh.
Oh Felicia, how I feel for you. But I won't be feeling for your boobies. It's always been said that the American population (bar actors/resses, popstars and TV presenters) are officially obese. Obese boobies, however, is a great thing. It's a pity that Icecream wasn't injected into them instead.
When I was anorexic and my arms got very thin, I just replied: "Missy Elliott sat on them!"
As for Billy, alas.
Face down chanting "...and then they hit me!" (meaning my.. er, 'bombs') in a pub is no doubt his current location.
|02 Jun 2003||Felicia was rescued by Lucy||It has been exposed. The #1 killer of the brain is excessive television with numerous amounts of reality shows involving "contests with boobies", The subliminal messages in those shows during commercial breaks are quite harmful. You see skinny attractive youths on cell phones, bandashering their silicone filled boom booms and bare midrift tubbies. Some of the teenage girls say, "Look at me! Look at me! I can flash my cute pertly titties! ( I see Lucy doing the same on the sidelines here.)" Of course the little boys get horny, and here I am feeling, very, very, "without". It so bothersome sometimes as I turn off the set and head of to the market to purchase a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream after a brief commercial. On the way home, I pull out a drawer, peel the ice cream lid and start scooping. Then I start crying.... and then I start scooping, because my boobs aren't big enough. I head up the stairs and look in my drawer of "not nots" and "what nots" then all of a sudden, out of the drawer appeared a set of water boobies that Lucy Cortina bought for me last Christmas. I sniffed it slowly since it still had the scent of plastic, placed it beneath my bra, pushed up my boom booms and shook again to the rap song of "Baby Got Rack!"
As daring as I was, I drove to the record store wearing a tight top and curvy belly midrift pants. The guys did stop and stare... Yes... I saw a set of long, longs, across the way. The cashier at the front of the store rung up my cd and all he stared at was my breasts. I then looked up and found he was handsome and hand a long, long.
It was then that he asked me out for coffee.
Thanks, Lucy Cortina, SS Double Agent 00,
I love you!!!! Thanks for saving my life...
By the way, what's up with Billy the Freak?
|02 Jun 2003||Lucy Cortina||Just a girl, don't do this to me. You know full well that my dearest passed away more than a week ago. They were my only weapons.
When I was sent to my psychiatric unit, they searched me before I went in. They even removed my bra (big mistake!), so as I couldn't hang myself with it. As soon as they had lifted this dam, my oceana of breast-flesh was released. They seemed unbothered and just carried on with their search.
"What, no weapons of mass destruction?" I said, even though my weapons were clearly in front of me. It's not as if I could use my breasts to slash my arms or anything, though.
"We have to check everyone", said the nurse.
"Well you should check my home then. My sister shits on my bed, my dog eats my bras, my dad is a tranny and got mum pregnant by getting mum to sit on his dick and do the work herself, and my uncle is from a pre-Beatles era. Go on, go on then, check me you bastards!"
I was discharged within the hour.
|31 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||If only you could die laughing. If only that way of suicide worked.
I have just seen an old lady in one of those old-lady-buggies die a horrible death.
She was whizzing along the pavement in her buggy, when it got out of control. It got faster and faster until the wheels caught on the pavement and it flew into the air, did a summersault over the hedge, and the old lady landed in a field on her back and died.
All the people from the local church were rushing to her rescue, crying, and praying.
I just walked on and started laughing and wheezing once I had got around the corner.
|29 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||It disgusts me how pornographic radio advertising has become these days.
I just heard an ad on my radio that read: "It is I, Big John from Corellia Cars. Our prices are oh oh OH so low, and all the cars have long warranties..." then a woman replied:
"Really Big John, is that all u can think about? Nice cars with 'long warranties'?"
It's a disgrace. My sister listens to the radio cos she likes all the dancey and catchy songs. Then Christina Aguilera is on singing about how she likes getting "dirrty".
Well, my sister is dirty enough thank you very much!!! That fucken bitch Christina is brainwashing her.
Do you people now understand why a girl like me is on a website like this?
Just a girl, do not desert me like my selfish boobies did. There will be one less pair of boobs in this world if you do what u plan, and there are never enough boobies, just like there's not enough blood.
In fact they should put out adds asking for boobie donations along with blood donations.
|27 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||Schlib - this website IS therapy. Reading through this website will teach you more than any jumped up psycho-ologist will tell you.
Therapists do not offer a warm bosom for you to cry upon, whereas I do, or at least I used to. Sadly I will soon have to offer a fake bosom to cry on.
|26 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||Dear Mouchette,
Just a note of thanks for editing my last post, where I spellt my own name wrong. I know you only want me for my body, but it's nice to think that someone cares :)
Update: Boobs will be back on the menu in a months time. They are refining my implants so as I can maintain them without too much fuss, or the need for bin liners. Which is just as well, as I received a letter from Kwik Save PLC this morning, demanding I pay a bill of £100 because I take so many of their shopping bags. And I don't take the bags for shopping either...
|24 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||*assumes London-Cockney accent* Bloody 'ell Mouchie!!!
'as the suicide kit become a dating board, or even a forum? How many times do I see "Dear this, dear that, dear tits, dear whoever.."?
If that's the case, I may as well leave my details.
Name: Hmm well by birth, Lucy Cortina. But my mates call me 'officer boob'. Or my Danny calls me 'agent 00 oh oh!, madame boob'.
Age: Well, I'm only 17, but don't tell anyone cos that will mean I won't be able to put up any X-rated pics. It seems that you must be over 18 in the UK, or 21 in the US to have a naked picture on the net. Which puzzles me, as kids ar losing their virginity at age 12+ where I live. At least if we were all shagging over the net, there would be less newborns to pollute this already baby-infested world. (Which reminds me, the other night I slept rough with a friend. We slept in the baby-changing-unit at an all night Supermarket. Because, as my friend said, there will be no babies shopping there at night. Fair enough, I thought!)
Occupation: Ex-boob-pornstar. Wannabe Britney Spears. Super Secret Spy Sex agent. Exhibitionist. Part-time nudist. And of course, a full-time volunteer who contributes to mouchette.org.
Interests: Maintainance of boobies. How to grow new boobies when your old ones have died and gone to that great 'boobie home in the sky'.
(That reminds me - I am currently trawling the web looking for breast growth remedies. And not stupid hormone thingies. I'm not a bloody shemale after all! - yes, I'm referring to YOU, Abel!)
Ok, it seems I'm too unconcentrated (as opposed to concentrated orange juice) at the moment to bother with the rest of this profile. Besides, I always start rambling about other aspects of my life, and I may reveal too much...
...like the fact that on an SSSS mission, I stole an antique dildo from the Pope. As Marianne Faithfull once said, "Screw the Pope!!!"
Oops, now he can't be screwed.
Ain't I just one naughty lil' minx....
|22 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||PS - You are probbaly all wondering why I needed to steal bras, since I departed with my beloved only last week.
Well, a girl learns to move on past the pain (and burning boobies).
I have booked into a clinic for new boobies. And they are gonna cost me a bloody fortune, cos the nice lady told me that they used to be *inside* Britney Spears.
Make of that what you will.
|21 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||Wow, I thought I was crazy. This week I was done for shoplifting panties and bras, so I get pissed on a secret stash of vodka and spend the night on a park bench thinking how crazy I am.
Then I come back to this den of naughtiness. And my actions pale into nothingness. Oh well..
|15 May 2003||Lucy Cortina||It was like in that film. Four weddings and a funeral. Except it was four parties, and my boobie-funeral. The parties were all crap.
But yeh, I decided against a cremation of my boobies. If ghosts do exist, then I'm sure that boobie-ghosts also exist. So I need to retain my boobies - even if they are in a wooden box surrounded by mud and worms - so that my boobie-ghosts may return to their pert, proud, and enormous former selves.
As I was in the big room where they allow you personal time with your departed loved ones, I looked down at the beautiful boobies, and cried. They had been arranged so as to look beautiful and "at peace" by the undertaker. They were even surrounded by little daisy chain necklaces. Now ain't that sweet!
I once heard a rumour that dead people fart. The gas builds up, and then suddenly releases!
As my boobsie-woosie's had learned how to fart just before they so tragically died, they both gave off their last (and loud!) burst of gas. Then it was almost like I could see them, rising up... up to Heaven. Or maybe that was just the cloud of fart-gas, who knows.
My boobies were gone. For eternity. Never to be seen again.
Here's a lesson for you people suicide is so NOT worth it. My breasts were so selfish, and have left Lucy Cortina a broken girl. I may end up like Mariah Carey, thinking that people are plotting against me, and leaving crazy messages on Eminem's answer-machine.
That would be a shame, eh?
Anyway I buried my collection of shopping bags, leather bras and co. with the boobies, so at least they won't have to float around Heaven all naked and exposed, like the angels do, or Adam & Eve... or even Adam & Steve.
Now, won't ya all say a little prayer for me...?
|15 May 2003||just a girl||Mouchette! i am shocked! what on earth is a girl like me doing in your 'favourites' list?? oh do tell.. after all i am.. Just a girl :P
(and where has that lucy cortina gal got to? i'm missing those stories i live for.. o dear...)