|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?
|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.
|01 Jun 2003||just a girl||omg! do you know what our shitty governement has gone and done now? i mean its bad enough our governor general (or previous governor general should i say?).. was a child sex abuser.. but this.. this is just NOT COOL!
they have gone and taken all the pro-ana sites off the net! yes thats right! for some reason they think they have the 'right' to take away what is rightfully ours.. you cant just go taking these things away from people when u feel like it!!! what the hell is wrong with these people!!! (its like taking away our air we need to breathe!) what ever happened to being a damn democracy and freedom of speech (or type).. and individual rights!!! and.. and.. what ever the hell else we are!!! oh dear!!! mouchie!!! what if 'they' soon think they can take away your site too? o dear! o dear! what if 'they' think this site is bad too and remove it? o dear! o dear! what on earth would we all do?? (die maybe?) i dunno about you guys.. but this site is beginning to be the only thing i got left!!! so ill be damned if i let 'them' take it away from me!!! grrrrrrrr 'they' will not get away with this so easily... oh no... something must be done.. someone must do something... and that someone is me!!!
'tick' (and a lightbulb switches on in my head) yesssssss that someone is me!!! i will stop them... that government will never know what hit them... muhahahhaha...
ps... lucy i think i need your SSSS intelligence here!!! care to join me in a kill-your-governement-the-fucking-bastards-massacre? this could be a tricky mission... not one for the faint hearted....... :)
|30 May 2003||just a girl||superman
my dearest lucy do not fear.. i am still here.. (unfortunately).. i have not yet deserted you like your once warm beloved boobies have.. and my boobies have yet to enter that 'great boobie-home in the sky' (as i so vividly remembering you saying once)
and to my dear naomi I am so sorry I cannot be your master just yet.. for the jump was postponed.. and I am also sorry for my go at you.. that was just a girl in pms.. intoxicated (with shit life) mood.
but no i am here.. it appears my up-chuck reflexes have yet again prevented me from doing the inevitable and taking the plunge (i must be superman).. instead my head took the plunge.. (into my toilet that is).. as i spent yesterday as one with my insides, yet again.. watching the nothingness disgorge from my empty stomach.. mainly consisting of my stomach lining and anything else left..
due to this i was unable to get my train.. to my 'final destination'.. and was stuck here once again.. with my beautiful friend.. my tv.. and my life flashing before me in the form of a 'the bold and the oh-so beautiful' episode..
this morning when i woke up however, feeling so faint and weak from the previous days upchucking performance.. i asked myself, "how long is this going to go on for?".. and i couldnt answer.. and it made me so sad.. that i now have no control over myself any more.. i have no control over anything that happens, and every time something does.. it feels like someone is stabbing me in the gut with an extremely large knife.. but this time it doesnt feel good.. because im not the one doing it..
and the most awful thing happens today.. I got used to it.
I got used to being like this.. it almost seems normal.. all my obsessive behaviour has become normal and I cant snap out of it.. since when did I check how much I weigh everyday? Since when was losing 1kg everyday not enough? Since when did I think I was too fat? But I am too fat.. since when do I write into this suicide website? Since when do I spend my lunchtimes and weekends alone? Cutting myself.. since when do I not speak to the people who mean the world to me everyday? Since when do I break their hearts? Since when did I hate myself so much that it has come to this.. and when I think about it.. i've always been like this.. what can u do when u realise its not the people around you that mess you up.. but yourself? How can u get away from your own mind? Oh god.. when is this ever going to stop.. sometimes I wish there was a god so I could ask that question.. but there isnt.. and there is no hope
And as i sat in a psychology lecture today i listened so intently to the man at the front of the room (despite my need for hell's cocktail & my friendly friend.. prozac), dressed ever-so neatly speaking the best he could.. about hypnosis, psychosis, schizophrenics, depression, anxiety problems and just about anything else that covered myself and could fall under my name.. and he said something that kinda struck me.. (like a lightening bolt from above).. and it was that our subconscious mind already knows the moment we are born, who we are, what is in stall for us, and what we are to become.. now from as far back as I can remember, the topic-at-hand here has always been in my mind.. even during the most of happiest times in my life it was still there.. lingering in the back of my mind like a scratch that never got itched.. i even remember back to my days in year seven.. when I would play chicken with the ongoing cars that passed me by.. or stand with my arms out preparing to jump from the top of my roof.. however.. with this theory in place.. I thought.. shouldnt I already be dead by now? For my subconscious and conscious has not only thought of suicide, but.. considered.. contemplated.. dreamt of and even, attempted.. so I dont understand.. shouldnt I be dead by now? If that is what my subconscious mind is always thinking about, doesnt that mean that it is what should happen?
And I came to the conclusion..
I must be some kind of superman
|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||will||Ummm, today i thought of a way to escape from my miserable life. I thought perhaps i should move, move up into the loft. But, i would have to be very quiet. And what do i do for food? Well i could eat the glass fibre insulation. A kind of tasteless candy floss, or if you're from Australia it's fairy floss. I would have water from the cold water tank. But what about a toilet, i hear someone say? Umm, i haven't thought about that one........|
|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....
|23 May 2003||just a girl||"walk away"
Everyday is the same..
It used to be different.
It used to be exciting.. enlivening even.. inspiring and mesmerizing.. as the day and the people around me would absorb my essence and i would absorb theirs..
Now.. there is nothing left to absorb. the sponge is dry. it has been wringed so profoundly that nothing is left.. although it was once drenched and saturated with the dripping liquid of life.. it is now dry.. and dead.. and empty. everything that once was has been exceedingly consumed..
And now there is me.
And now, everyday is the same.. skool.. skanks.. skool.. skanks.. (and u know how i feel about the skanks at my skool).. but i still go.. god knows why (there is no god), but i still do.. i still get up in the morning without my fix of danoz direct adds, boobie-dooer's and prozac to go to that hell hole.. and for one reason.. there is a bridge just near my skool :) and everyday is the same, and everyday i wait for that bell to ring.. for that heavenly sound to explode in my ears.. so i can get my scrawny ass out of that place (away from the skanks).. and look at 'my' bridge.. just look at it from a distance.. so i can ponder.. and contemplate what it would be like.. not to be up there.. but to be falling from there..
Today was no different than any other day.. endless minutes spent counting endless skanks with fingers that don't exist (yet).. and waiting eagerly for my moment to be alone with her.. with her beauty and with her grace, and with her little ounce of hope that she brings me each and every day...
"DING DONG!" (woo-hoo).. and i am outa there.. and as i walk through the scrub and out onto the road carrying my particularly heavy skool bag filled with the books (lit' buggers) who are evidently going to be the ones responsible for my entire education and place in life (if i ever make it out there into the big bad world)... i can't help but imagine her and if she has changed over night.. (or if i have changed?)
once i get to my desired destination i stand still, and i can't help but stare at her, and marvel at her beauty.. taking every piece of her in..
"Is today the day?" i ask myself.. (a now common repeatedly proverbial question to me).. and everyday is the same.. and everyday my answer is the same..
"I don't know".. i never know.. but it still doesn't take the fun out of it! as i stand on the corner of the busy highway in front of me, i watch the cars and skool buses go by me (no doubt skank is somewhere in there) and i can't help but want to walk out in front of one (that will teach skank!) have my blood and guts splattered onto her perfectly clean windscreen.. (litterally).. and i also watch the pre-skoolers and primary-skool kids from across the road.. all little and cute.. all innocent and sweet.. all fucking clueless and naive (yes kiddies, santa is true.. hmmm) and can't help but feel sorry for them.. for how many of those little kiddies will soon to be.. standing on the other side of the road.. standing.. and thinking like me..
i realise i'm getting off track and turn my focus back to her.. and she is beauty.. all covered in rust and dirt.. and oh so high up above all those pretty shinny clean cars.. occasionally she gets banners! oh yea.. all special and loving.. usually with messages such as "Happy Birthday Baby!!! I LOVE U!" or "Happy 21st sez.. love the girlz" either way i wonder about those people in the cars who get to see those banners.. (will i live long enough to see a banner of my own?) and think of how loved they must feel..
it is cold.. and i am still standing here.. watching her.. waiting for my mind to make up..... its mind!
"Is today the day?".. and the same scenario runs through my twisted mind.. i walk.. i watch.. i step up.. up.. up.. and down..... down..... and way down.... (splat?) and once again i can't help but think what it would look like? how great would it be? my insides plastered on the road and near by passing cars.. then they would see.. oh yes they would see.. all my insides that is!!!
but still.. my feet don't move.. and my mind doesn't change.. and thanks to a certain *someone* who will remain un-named.. a song runs through my head..
"..and its so hard to do.. but so easy to say.. but sometimes.. sometimes.. u just have to walk away..."
in any other situation i love this song dearly.. for it provided me with the valuable information that indeed it is usually better to walk away from most things.. (scrag fights with skank).. but in those times.. i never can.. i am the type of person to stay.. to stay and fight.. to work things out.. to battle till the end (damn skanks).. but i never can "just walk away" when i really need to..
but when i'm with her.. i can't stay.. but this time i want to.. this time i want to stay.. i want to battle till the end (the very end).. but i don't..
so everyday is the same.. and everyday i ask myself..
"why oh why do i stay when i should be walking away.. and why oh why do I walk away when i should be staying?
but still.. everyday is the same.. and everyday.. i just..
|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..
|19 May 2003||just a girl||"another lonely day"
once again, waking to the inevitable and unbearable phenomenon of being me.. just a girl.. but this time it wasn't at 3am in the morning, and this time i didn't have danoz direct adds to save me from the reality which exists beyond the renowned safety and cosiness of my doona which lies before me.. covering my scarred fragile body..
I wake to the remains of the previous night.. a half empty bottle of vodka, some pills named (oh wait.. i can't read it, it's too damn early).. and a shiny piece of glass with exceptionally sharp edges, which appears to be the leftovers of a once-beautiful-photo-frame.. given to me by.... what is that red stuff on my sheets?
8 am.. and the alarm clock beside my bed is informing me that perhaps it is time to get out of bed.. and perhaps to even have a shower this morning.. and perhaps to try and make it out the front door without shedding a single tear or pulling my hair out.. which moments later i make a discovery.. and realise it is not possible.
8:40am.. in the car on the way to school.. being awake for a whole of 40 minutes and already i've had enough of this world.. oh please can't i go back to the insanity which lingers in my bedroom? fraid not 'missy'.. a voice to the right of me is preaching something.. yet again.. probably of how impossible it is to love me.. (what a shame, nothing's new?)
9:05 am.. class... oh skank oh skank.. could u be more conspicuous of your ways of skanyness.. (i don't think so) oh my would u look at that.. skank got kicked out of class- due to hmmm what would u call it.. 'profound self-obsessed-vanity' and flirting with the cocksucker next to you whose pants sit oh so way too low..
11:25.. class.. how can i be expected to write? i mean.. how do u wankers think it possible to hold a damn pen in a hand that acts like a jackhammer drilling its way to china.. let alone write with it? (maybe i should have taken my meds? nah more fun this way) speaking of.. do i have enough fingers (and toes) to count the amount of skanyness at this skool? simple question.. simple answer.. NO (perhaps if i look at her enough like i wish she would disappear.. she will drop dead and die? him too?)
1:15 pm.. lunch.. is then when i'm supposed to eat? oh no.. this is when i'm suppose to sit back and watch life as it happens around me.. skank to skank.. but not actually live it.. (note to self.. grow more fingers enabling me to count the amount of skanks at our skool... 1..2..3..100..900......)
3:30.. home.. something inside me tells me to be 'happy' about this aspect of my day.. but then that little patronising voice inside my head kicks in and says.. "but you don't feel anything.. remember?" (besides the constant beating of a hammer on my head.. due to hangover of prozac and vodka) i remember..
Home.. at last.. home and.. at last (not least) ALONE.. i always did love that movie :)
ps.. Lucy i gave a prayer for ur dearly beloved boobies last night, who hopefully now... are resting in peace.. can i join them?
|16 May 2003||Felicia the unexpected||Felicia's useless facts:
Rosey O'Donnell is not gay.
(She was a manic depressive to begin with.)
The laughing cow on the butter box did not laugh just for posing. She had her udders tickled.
The Cadbury Bunny didn't lay eggs, but gave birth to marshmallow bunny peeps.
Tom Arnold did not marry Rosanne for money, but who would believe that one.
On higher elevations, cookies don't bake the same as lower elevation cookies. They puff up and burn, then you toss them.
Drinking your own pee is not insanitary or is it? Well it does come out of your own body. (I was told this and it grossed me out, so I might as well share this with you anyway.)
To be vain is okay. To be overly vain is the same. To be too vain, is bad. Overly? What the heck, who cares?
All "Gothic" people love black only. Not true. I wear black all the time just to hide my "very gross" veins.
Bras in the beginning were first used as sling shot weapons. The cave woman that slingshot her prey for the lazy cave husband, was distracted by her shaking boobs, used the slingshot as backup to prevent herself from tripping.
When you want revenge on a one night stand philanderer, buy a pregnancy test kit. Mark the window indicator with a red pen, tell him that your pregnant. Wait nine months later, feign having a baby, and collect child support from that dumb ass twat. Ooooh! That's bad. For best results, if the incident happened around July, wait till the beginning of April and say out loud, "April Fools!"
This Mouchette site was set up by an org of Cirque Du Soleil mimes.
No offense to my friends. Have a nice evening.
-Not the end-
|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...?
|14 May 2003||just a girl|| ***K-MART SHOPPING LIST***
1. Get boxes of condoms & randomly put them in peoples' carts when they aren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks to go off at 10-minute intervals.
3. Make a trail of orange juice on the floor to the rest rooms.
4. Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone, "I think we have a code 3 in housewares," and see what happens.
5. Put some M&M's on lay by.
6. Move CAUTION WET FLOOR signs to carpet areas.
7. Set up a tent in the camping department, tell others you'll only invite them in if they bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. When someone asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask, "Why won't you people leave me alone??!!"
9. Look right into the security camera and use it as a mirror while you pick your nose or scratch yourself.
10. Dart around suspiciously while humming the theme from 'Mission Impossible.' (this one's for lucy :P)
11. While handling knives in the kitchen department ask the clerk if he knows where the anti-depressants are. (my personal favourite)
12. In the auto department practice your Madonna look using different size funnels. (also for lucy)
13. Hide in the clothing rack and when people browse through whisper "PICK ME! PICK ME!!!!!"
14. When an announcement comes over the loud speaker assume the fetal position and scream "NO! NO! It's those voices again!"
15. Go to the fitting room and yell real loud..... "Hey we're out of toilet paper in here!"
|14 May 2003||just a girl||"my first smile"
oh could it be? really.. could it be? oh god tell me (not that there is one, sorry to disappoint you!).. could it be possible that i committed such a surreal and absurd act of this demeaning and nauseating vile world that i currently live in (that includes the schizophrenic world i've now created in my head as well).. how is it possible that anything was able to bring about such a miracle but such a sham at the same time.. which merely imitated but a former illusion of myself.. which is so far from reality.. so far from the truth.. and now so far from myself.. that presently exits..
i smiled today :)
And i'll tell u a little secret my humble and gracious fellow readers: I almost fainted!!! no joke.. the tremendous yet synthetic courageous act (or should i say.. crime?) which i committed just moments ago almost knocked me off my feet!! which perhaps might have been a little funny to any viewer near by.. watching my school skirt fly 100 miles over my head.. which would in turn bring about the scrutiny of my sexy black lace underwear, i'm sure (god knows why i still bother to wear sexy underwear.. oh, wait there is no god!) which might actually make someone else smile :)
But oh no.... must i go to jail now??? will some strapping young man in a uniform come use handcuffs on me? hehe memories.. but aww :(
"I dun wana go to da jail Mr.. pwese pwese dun make me!" (no lucy cortina stories in jail!) "it was only one wittle smile!"
Anyway by now i'm guessin you're all wondering what on earth made me commit this horrendous crime in the first place.. well i came here to share it with you all.. perhaps create another to commit the same crime.. enjoy :)
|13 May 2003||PC me||I wana use this website for a dedication to my lovely boyfriend Derek. Like they do on radio when they play a song and dedicate it to some old biddy that is half deaf anyway.
This one is for you, my sweet Derek. From your Phil. I love you today and always.
- - - oh yeh u mite also b able to tell from this that im gay. im a fag. wow! how shocking! its like Lucy Cortina WITHOUT breasts but WITH a bra!
|12 May 2003||Felicia in PMS mode||Hmphf! Snotty celebs on my recent website. No offense to you Lucy. It's these prima donnas have already gotten their boob jobs and I have none. They are fashioning up their Shakira like qualities and shaking their small, small asses. Left and warmed out like a melted crayon. Farted out like a can of pinto beans, thrown in a bleached pool and making my blonde highlights look green. Where's the deodorant?!! GADS!! There is none! I'm out of pads, I ran out of tampons!!!
Help! Help! Someone drank my last can of TAB cola!!!
|11 May 2003||just a girl||oh and auntie lucy... you will have to wait till next time to hear my naughty confessions.. ;) (althought im not too sure they will measure up to that of a sexually breast obsessed gal.. like urself)