|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?
|11 Dec 2002||rupert||write your suicide note and then put it away. when you die, one day, someone will say, "she was already dead".|
|10 Dec 2002||Jeanie||WELL I'M BACK... to all you people that care... well then person then?... well damn I should have figured I'd get a big NOBODY CARES!! Oh well, I guess I'll go care by myself. Billy, when ya ganna get a new email?? When you ganna come hide under my bed when you done with the European hottie? How bout one American one? I got GI JOES!!! You can play mass distruction on the neighbors... I never liked them anyway. Or even mass distruction on me if you're good... :P|
|08 Dec 2002||Lucy Cortina||Billy, you and I both know the REAL reason you no longer posess an email address. It was all those half-nudie pictures of me that did it, wasn't it?
If 2 pillow cases cannot contain my womanly goods then no email address can.
Or maybe the email addy just wanted the pics of me all to itself and so banned you from entry.
Or... maybe George Dubya Bush is, as we speak, rifling through images of me with his greasy hands via a Whitehouse PC. They do say that the government have the rights to look through our mail (I always do wonder what happens to my copies of 'Mega Boys').
When Mr Bush decides to invade the UK in search of "weapons of mass destruction", you know what he's after!
America, here I come...
|07 Dec 2002||Lucy Cortina||To reeta - I use mothballs in my bras. Is that a bad thing?|
|06 Dec 2002||Lucy Cortina||*Squeals with delight* Oooh Billy, you naughty boy! I didn't expect a kiss and tell about our affair. I haven't even bought my weekly copy of HEAT magazine yet, I must have a look soon. I expect they put your interview somewhere in between Kylie Minogue's hotpants and Britney's pigtails.
It's almost Christmas. I'm expecting a lot of goodies and things to "unwrap". I wonder what's in santa's "sack" for me?
I hope I don't get one of those crappy prezzies where I have to say "It's the thought that counts...", when secretly I think it's a pile of ****. It's not the THOUGHT that counts - it's the PRESENT!!! I want a present that will mean that the rest of my life after receiving it will be an anti-climax. Not a snuff-box shaped like a banana!
A girl can dream. The best I can hope for this year is a pork pie in my hand, cranberry sauce in my hair and flashing my bottom out of the car-window in the freezing snow.
|03 Dec 2002||billy||- after my recent disappearance i was advised to hold a press conference and have an interview with some honest journalist, i don't really remember the name of the journalist, because i was stoned and it don't really matter. anyways, here are some of the questions and my answers.
Q: billy, after you went missing in action alot of talk started running around, so the question is where have you been?
A: when i was younger my mother always said "why don't you join the circus?" so, i wanted to live up to her dream. i got a job shoveling elephant shit for a travelling circus. the job itself was horrible, but the benefits was worth all the shit, free popcorn and all the mountain dew i could drink, plus the ring master's daughter put out, and you know and for mom.
Q: that sounds exciting, so then what happened?
A: well, when they started calling me billy the shit boy i knew it was time to rock and roll, when we got to great britain, i ran seeking refuge with an old friend.
Q: who was this old friend?
A: lucy cortina.
Q: hey, isn't she the one with the big...
Q: was she suprised to see you?
A: this was the first time we ever met, i guess she didn't expect me to be so handsome, so she threw me under the bed, in attempt to hide me from her snotty british friends. she wanted to keep me all for herself you see.
Q: of course, so billy, how did you feel being under the bed?
A: i felt with my hands, unfortunately i didn't get to feel much of lucy, for when my hand crept from under the bed -WHACK- with the hair brush handle, it was a neat handle because it doubled as a scalp massager, it vibrated. all in all it was good, but i had to go.
Q: why did you have to go?
A: her sister kept sneaking under the bed and insisting i play dolls with her. you see, i am a manly american man i don't play with dolls, unless the have on camo and little plastic guns, it's the american way.
Q: so where did you go from there?
A: first i went to the hard rock cafe in london, then i went home, i was pretty tired by then.
Q: one more question billy, what has happened to your email address?
A: i received a piece of email from afghanistan, and like a dope i opened it. my poor pc got anthrax, he didn't make it.
|01 Dec 2002||Lucy Cortina||I'm going to see the new Bond movie soon, *ooh!* that Pierce Brosnan is such a hunk! And Halle Berry reminds me of myself, in the bosom department.
I remember seeing in the newspaper a picture of Guy Ritchie and Madonna greeting the Queen at the premiere of the film.
Call me weird, but it seemed as though the Queen was secretly thinking as he looked at Madonna: "You - Mrs Ritchie. Me - Mrs VERY richy!"
Bless her cotton socks.
|01 Dec 2002||Lucy Cortina||Billy, I'm more of a kitchen table, garden shed or beach party girl, if you know what I mean.
Anyway glad you're back! Did you enjoy our last rendezvous?
|01 Dec 2002||billy||in the morning when the sun breaks over appalachia, i am in that limbo between night and day, i like to walk downtown when the streets are empty, i am alone with my thoughts. they seem to echo off the tall buildings then come back to me in whispers, my thoughts. the city agrees with me. the new light from aloft makes everything crisp and clear. i can see for miles. i can walk for miles. just me and my thoughts. so where will my thoughts take me today?|
|01 Dec 2002||billy||lucy, i would never go to a party that i knew had cucumber sandwiches, unless that is, i knew you would be there, then the party would move upstairs.|
|30 Nov 2002||Lucy Cortina||Moucchie! I'm afraid you are committing suicide yourself my dear, by allowing these plebs to dominate your site. I thought a revolution was taking place, but things seem to have leaped back 2 years.
It's like when you throw a party but only the posh people with the delicate-etiquette are invited (Billy and myself), but a load of rough baldies in leathers crash the party. And they knock over your stacks of delicately prepared cucumber sandwiches, which tumble into your champagne fountains. And the sausage rolls end up trodden in the floor like dead soldiers.
I want back my Billy and I want him now...
|16 Nov 2002||Lucy Cortina||Blimey, this site is getting like my room, full of junk and bits of smelly old fish (it's ok billy - your willy is not to blame).
I just wanted to make a quick point about parents, how they try to act 'cool'. Instead of wearing elegant old-people's-wear, they try to 'get with it' by wearing baseball caps and so on.
That's all I wanted to say. Parents annoy me, why can't they save their kids the years of torture by just donating their private parts to a special camp, that puts 2 and 2 together inside an artificial-whatsit, so that we can grow up under normal living conditions? Eh?
Shame on you, parents.
|03 Nov 2002||Lucy Cortina||You're right fan. Unfortunately, I no longer know where Billy is. He escaped in the night from underneath my bed, god knows where he's got to now.
I have a backup plan though. I have one of those digital cameras that can instantly send images via email. Every now and then I pop the cam under my top and give Billy a treat.
BILLY - COME BACK DARLING!
|01 Nov 2002||Lucy Cortina||What, you mean that Billy and I have fans?
I always did fancy some hunky turkish guy in some wet speedos stood beside me - as I consume grapes and chocolate - fanning me with one of those huge Peacock-ish fans. And then to be rubbed up and down with olive oil...*oooh!*...very sensual...
Or in my case, vegetable oil will do, considering my new college-economy shopping budget.
Back to the point. We have fans? I'm considering setting up and Billy & Lucy fanclub (one years free advertising is of course promised to you, Mouchette).
Actually, I really can't be arsed. But I wouldn't mind a fanclub. Please set one up for me, someone. If there are any rich, handsome, classy (suicidal 13-year-old) millionaires on this website, please do let me know. I have Britney Spears potential. I'm waiting for you baby...............
|28 Oct 2002||Lucy Cortina||Uh-oh..Lucy again! I HAD to post again, since I just heard on the radio that Courtney Love's dog has died after eating one of her breast implants, which she left on the table! I mean - Ohmygod! Do these women never learn? You'd never catch me leaving my nungas lying around for any old dog to get his hands on.
Why don't she just put them in the fridge like any other self-respecting woman?
Ps - This site is addictive, Mouchette. You have me here every day. If things do not change I will be filing a lawsuit against your company, since it does not say on the package of this medication that it may be addictive. Side-effects I can deal with (aka Billy). But not addiction. I NEED to get a life!
Now..where's my Prozac gone to...?
|27 Oct 2002||Lucy Cortina||Don't you just hate it when it's a Sunday - you're all alone, none of your 'online-buddies' are around, and so you begin to realise that your 'online life' never existed and that you are really the lonely bore you tried to imagine you weren't?
I am reduced to finding a Britney Spears concert on channel 4 remotely interesting.
It's a good job that I have Billy to entertain me now... he does have his uses!
|25 Oct 2002||Lucy Cortina||Billy flew to me on a plane because of a general lust for a breasted sex goddess. There was no way I was letting him come near me with his huge bishop, and so with my tongue I sliced it clean in two.
He now resides underneath my bed. When feeling generous I allow him a crust or two of bread.
The lesson to be learnt here is this -
do not fall in love with a Cortina.
|17 Oct 2002||Lucy Cortina||HYDRO - add? You mean address? Oh yes, Madame Cortina has an address.
It's almost Halloween. Me and my mates are planning to commit murder against the vegetables belonging to the vegi-sexual next door. Infact, we could kidnap them and demand a ransom. Threaten to mutilate his precious carrots and marrows. Ooooh I am evil.
|14 Oct 2002||Lucy Cortina||I remember once I was watching Southpark, there were 2 cowboys on. They began to undress, saying "Let's explore our sexuality!" This got me thinking. Thinking, they say, induces breast development. Mein gott! One day I'll need to use the pyramids as my bra - a spiky one like Madonna used to wear.
Back to the point - I was thinking of exploring our proud names.
Cortina: Wanted sex goddess. A Cortina is actually some sort of car, I think. There is also a UK advert on TV with "Hairy Cortina", a freaky man with a huge Afro hairpiece.
I've been confused with famous people too. I once got sunburnt in Germany and a woman began screaching "Oh ja! oh ja! mein gott! Was ist? Ja das ist!" - whatever that may mean. The sunburn was in patches like a christian cross. She thought I was the Virgin Mary (honestly, I ask you!) and a queue of German women formed along the beach - they wanted to feed me tablespoons of milk and pray to me!
So, what about your names? Billy. That rhymes with willy. Quite inappropriate, I think!
Mouchette. Sounds like Machete (those sword things).
I put the question to YOU, dear people. What is in a name? Does your name scream breastiness, sexual juices and womanly potential to others? Or does it scream of a dried up old fart?
|07 Oct 2002||pier.||have you ever tried to jump from the sidewalk ? you might fall in an uncorrect position that leads you to death ...only if you're lucky.|