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Sunday, July 31, 2005
Fun weekend, but it's not over yet. I'll write more tomorrow. In the meantime, here is the man of my dreams. He keeps his amputated foot in a bucket. HOT! *creams all over computer chair* | Friday, July 29, 2005 It's a sad day at Lake Allison For I have just found out that the lobster story, Susy DeLucci and the Miracle of Life (cited on this blog a few days ago) is not true. A woman's womb would need salt to produce 1,000 mud shrimp. Reality, you disappoint me. I'm stealing the story for fictional purposes, anyway. It's too good to ignore due to mere improbability. | Wednesday, July 27, 2005 It's like an Oprah book with Jaws Today, while rooting through the natural landscape of crap-piles in this house, I found a paper fan that my dead mom folded. On it, she wrote in her musical cursive hand, Bring Shark Teeth. WTF!?? Another thing I'll never get to ask her about. | Monday, July 25, 2005 Lost in Joliet, this morning. Don't ask, it was storming. Rusty Grand Am dragged behind a tow truck, letters on the window say JUST MARRIED! Where the fuck am I? | Sunday, July 24, 2005 It's 4:30am and I'm wired! Yipee! In the summertime, it's hard to sleep before the sun comes up. So it's time for a rambly, livejournalesque, "bla bla bla this is what I did tonight" post. So bla bla bla this is what I did tonight: 8:30pm- Returned from my daily galavant through the woods. Was feeling proud of myself for drafting a few ass-nasty, exquisite scenes of the lobster story in my journal. And for not catching poison ivy. I still want rabies, though. 9 to 11pm- Read Dickens. Then felt this urgent fear that something is very wrong with me. What kind of 21-year-old girl stays home and reads a Victorian novel on Saturday night? 11:30pm- A call from a certain person from my past, who I'm pleased I've gotten to know again. He still has a piece of knife imbedded in his hand from when I stabbed him 4 years ago. (He asked me to!) So basically, what he does is travel around and fix things. Tonight, he was working at a place near Dixon where they rebuild old VW Beetles. It's in an abandoned cold war era fallout shelter, which rocks. Anyway, the highlight of his night, aside from downing a bottle of rum, was when one of the shop dogs emerged from the bushes with a severed head in its mouth. The head was from a cat who ran off, the previous winter and died. They took the cat head away from the first dog and gave it to another dog who eats anything. And sure enough, it gobbled down the cat's head along with 6 months of decay. Mmm! 1:30am- A call from everyone's favorite sneaky bald man with a camera. He told me he got a new vehicle and suggested we go for a ride. He arrived an hour later and I was a little horrified to see that the vehicle was a motorcycle. I've always admired motorcycles from afar, but never had the opportunity or guts to ride on one. But dammit, it was cool. A shiny new crotch rocket bike. So I put on the helmet, threw my short little leg over the seat and held on tight. Maybe too tight. I hope I didn't bruise his ribs with my fingertips. I was scared I'd fall off whenever we turned or stopped. I don't trust Gravity since she's the Devil's girlfriend (long story, ask if you're curious). As usual, I was wearing a skirt so it blew up over my legs as we rode, giving our fellow travelers a nice view of my panties. Oops. We decided to ride to Denny's because, well what the fuck else is there to do in the suburbs at nearly 3am? Besides, living in the city, he saw it as a kind of suburban novelty. In the Denny's there was a pack of Skinny Blonde Girls (TM) accompanied by a skinny blonde boy. Their clothes were spotted in mud and they looked like they were related. I mused that they were a set of very close quintuplets who grew up in some poor, rural town where there's nothing to do and thus, made a hobby of playing in the mud. My companion, ever the nosy journalist, walked over to their table and asked one of the Blonde Girls (TM) why she was muddy. It turns out the group had just gone to a Dave Matthew's Band concert. Bla, definitely not as interesting as my speculation. The ride back home on the motorcycle was not as scary. Actually, it was very fun. It's refreshing to get pelted with air on a hot night. And the danger of knowing that if you fall, you'll probably break a limb or two makes it all the more exciting. Life should be more dangerous. Coffee should be hotter, the holes in the sidewalk should be deeper. 3:30am- Returned to my house. Me and aforementioned guy parked his motorcycle out front and went inside to visit His Evil Highness Bud the Cat. 4am- Alone now. I'm still awake? WTF!! It must be the coffee I had at Denny's. *twitch* 4:15am- My dad stumbled into the living room, in a hungover daze and said, "Don't ride motorcycles." That's the first vaguely parental thing he's done in 12 years. 4:30am- Began writing this inane and rambling post, completely shattering my new goal of posting things that people would actually like to read. 5:30am- The sun is rising. Bedtime! Zzzzzzzzzzzz. | Saturday, July 23, 2005 Monster Shark Caught Assholes! That shark was supposed to eat me! And now's he's all dead and hanging from a pole. *sob* |
Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! I hear angels singing.. or maybe its just the ringing in my ear from too much coffee. I've just found the best site on the internet. How to get eaten by a shark: Great White Hope I swear I'll do it one day. |
This is one of my favorite true masturbation-gone-bad stories. Susy DeLucci and the Miracle of Life Ms. DeLucci's death was the result of a combination of shock and severe head trauma. She stood up over the toilet in pain and when she saw what she had done, she went into shock and fell, smashing her head on the toilet and then on the floor. It is believed by police that two nights before the accident she had purchased a live lobster at a fish market. While lying in a tub, she gently inserted the creature's tail into her vagina to derive physical pleasure. At that point, she held a lighter under the creature's face causing it to flip its tail in a violent snapping motion. Wait'll you find out what she saw in the toilet. Serves the bitch right for harming that poor lobster. I plan to write a short story based on this. It's too sick not to steal. If it turns out good, I'll post some of it. | Friday, July 22, 2005 Today is my dead mom's birthday. Can you count the oxymorons in that sentence? | Thursday, July 21, 2005 On Human Arrogance The Earth will swallow poisons don't think that it can spare you Humans don't make sense but bees will always sting for sugar Voices on the loudspeaker- You have no fucking clue that when it finally starts to eat you cancer won't take credit cards And the tsunami doesn't want your dollar bills You cannot buy the land from drowning Dragonflies have better clothes than you bitch la la laaa the sunshine lights your path But something always craves your blood |
MySpace Sold Out see you emo fags later -tom Kids, can you really name all 500 of your "friends"? Have you even met them? Yeah, didn't think so. | Wednesday, July 20, 2005 Optimism: n. The act of lying to one's self to prevent suicide. Examples: Instead of thinking, Shit. I'm having my period again. No sex for 5 whole days! Think, Thank Satan! None of my unstable sex partners have impregnated me this month! And anal is still an option.. Instead of, I'm such a loser. Nobody will hire me because I'm so strange and unpleasant. Think, Isn't it lucky I don't have waste my time at some boring-ass job all day? Now I have free time to write about rabies and mating whales! And rather than, God damnit. My family sucks. Think, Isn't it great my dad doesn't nag me, like other parents do. I never hear crap from him like, "Fiction writing? You'll never get a job with that degree!" Lastly don't think, I'm broke and starving to death. Think, Because of this diet, I'll lose enough weight to become an exotic dancer at that charming little club, down the road. Then I'll never be broke! It's a wonderful day! | Tuesday, July 19, 2005 may the resin faeries bless your bowl until you find some weed may the dealer never pinch your bag may your buds be always fluffy and green |
Today's topic of interest: Mating lions!  <--- No, not those lions! Blehh! The sexy, feline kind. So here's how it happens: The hunky dominant male of the lion pride and a sultry lioness in heat will leave the rest of the lions for somewhere secluded where they can be alone. Ooohhh!! The pair will spend the next few days together. They will sleep most of the time. But every 15-30 minutes, the female lion will wake the male so they can have wild, lion sex. And the cycle continues: sleep, mate, sleep, mate for DAYS on end! Sounds like the perfect date! Here's what it looks like:      | Monday, July 18, 2005 I'm an irredeemably eejitous, liberal, tight as fuck, pathetically simple-minded, dribbling child! What are you? Brought to you by Rum and Monkey |
Masturbate for Peace I will touch my clit if the war we quit. If the war will end I will even touch a friend. I wont even bone, till we bring all our boys home. For the people and the state, I plan to masturbate. My masturbation will not cease, Until we have world peace!!! - Beckalicious, Brooklyn I'm not exactly sure how masturbation will end the war, but these poems make it sound like it's worth a (cum) shot. |
A heartfelt letter to an old friend Dear boring, selfish ego-monster, You think I'm an "over-reactive bitch"? Darling, It's called HUMOR and I accomplish it through exaggeration. Ah, you wouldn't get it. There's a lot of stuff you don't get. Like how to be a fair and decent human being, which is why we are no longer friends. So go make some old man buy you a drink and shut the fuck up. Sincerely, Allison S | Sunday, July 17, 2005 Allison vs. the Football Sized Burrito Mexican food is delicious, but devious. For example, there's the frozen margarita.  It says, "Drink me! I'm so fruity and delicious. I'm not gross and harsh like other drinks. I taste just like a slushie! Why don't you order one more of me?" And so I do. And I don't realize how drunk I am until my ass hits the sidewalk in front of the Mexican restaurant. Today, my encounter was with a football sized burrito. I should have ordered a couple of tacos, instead. That way I could eat a few, then take the remaining tacos home. But a huge burrito is like a challenge. It taunts, "What? You can't finish me? Ha! I am too big and thick for you, little girl. I am more burrito than your goofy, white ass can handle!" Then I say, "Oh yeah, burrito? I'll show you!! Nothing's too big and thick for me!" And proceed to eat the whole damn thing, down to the last tortilla crumb. Since then, I've barfed 3 times and finally, my stomach has ceased to wrench and rumble. Alas, the burrito won. | Saturday, July 16, 2005 YAY FOR RABIES!!! So last night I saw this cheezy, 70's horror movie, I Drink Your Blood. It's about a satanic cult that wanders into a small town. They attack a little girl and to get revenge, her brother feeds the cult rabies-infested meat pies. They go on a murderous rampage and soon half the town is foaming at the mouth. Rabies is fascinating. It makes you crave blood and fear water. I'm very inspired. I must learn more. Here are some pictures of rabies: 1. Human. He's restrained so he won't bite. 2. Same guy. It looks like rabies hurts! 3. Here's a dog. Check out all the mouth foam. 4. This crazy-ass rabid skunk attacked a porcupine! And last, go to rabies.com and watch the flash movie. You'll learn all sorts of educational things, like that Edgar Allan Poe died of rabies, it can be transmitted through eyeball licking (too bad for me) and you should get vaccinated for rabies before embarking on a spelunking expedition. *giggle* | Friday, July 15, 2005 HELP!!!!!! My 50-year-old dad is prancing around in a bright blue speedo. |
If literary magazines were honest about their submission policies: Here at Snob Mag, we seek stories that bore the reader, while simultaneously making them feel stupid. If we don't have to reach for our dictionary at least twice while reading your submission, or if your story line makes sense, send it elsewhere. Though we're seemingly open to submissions from new voices, we really only publish things written by our very hip friends. And please, nothing shocking or pornographic. Fuck that. I'm toying with the idea of starting a magazine (probably webzine) that specializes in publishing things that are too sleazy or bizarre to go anywhere else. Most erotica is terribly written and most lit magazines won't take anything obscene. There's a big gap in the market for stories that are literary, but fucked up. Hm..yes.. I will continue to toy with this idea.. |
When she inexplicably grew a penis last month, the 21-year-old treated it as an awe-inspiring omen... Than Sein, I <3 you. Don't become a monk! Then I will never have you! *cry* | Thursday, July 14, 2005 "Eh, money is money.." is not always true. Sometimes it's better to know your limits, to know what jobs will drive you to quit within a week. Sometimes it's wiser not to fake it and just to stay broke for a little longer, until you find a job thats a better fit. At least I went to the interview. I learned more about the job, then weighed the pros and the cons before I made my decision not to take it. I could just see it: The heat is rising up from the sidewalk in visible waves. I'm sweating and my feet are caked in blisters. I keep thinking of the starving children, how they have it much worse than me and how I should hang in there for their sake. And then I spot her. Prada suit, white earphones broadcasting her status. Because it's my job, I ask her, "Excuse me, do you have a moment for Save the Children?" She doesn't even acknowledge my presence with a "no thank you", let alone give a chunk of her 6-figure income to help kids who can't even eat. And maybe it wouldn't bug me so much if she wasn't the 500th yuppie fuck to ignore me like that. In the last hour. So I lose it. I pluck the ipod from her suit pocket and smash it against the concrete. Then when she swears at me, I yank at her fake blonde hair and pull a few chunks of it out by the dark brown roots. She shrieks and soon the entire block is on their cell phone, dialing the cops. And well, I don't go home that night. So I told the interviewer "no thank you". I felt a little disappointed in myself. I really wish I were one of those ceaselessly peppy, "water off a duck's back" people. Someone who can stand in the hot sun and deal with assholes, while keeping a smile on her face. But there's a certain numbness that everyone else seems to have that I don't. Things get to me. I don't force away my feelings. I just can't pretend everything is okay when it's obviously not. I despise that kind of lie. It makes life boring. When good things happen, I like to be happy. When bad things happen, I like to be angry or sad. So I shouldn't take a job where I'm rejected over and over again on a daily basis. I'll find some other way to help people. Fuck, I've gotta help me first. After the interview, I took a walk to the lake. I was plopped on a bench in Grant Park, admiring the boats and the waves when a fucking bicycle cop rode up beside me. "Whatchu got there?" he pointed to my messenger bag. He was short, his badge said Ortega. I opened my bag and showed him the inside. "Books." I said but thought, What'd you think was in there? A bomb? Yes, I'm a terrorist with tattoos and spiked hair. "You look really sad." Ortega flashed a patronizing grin. "Tell me what's wrong." "I just had a bad job interview, that's all." I explained, attempting to steady my voice. "Are you sure that's what's wrong?" he pressed, obviously smelling my fear in that canine-cop way. "Yes." My lip was beginning to quiver. "What kind of job was it?" Ortega tested. "Fundraising. I'll be okay, I just want to be left alone to gather my thoughts." Apparently, the concept of "gathering thoughts" was quite foreign to Ortega. He just stood there, leering at me until I finally burst into tears. "Aww.. you're too pretty to cry." he winked, then rode off. Satisfied with himself for spoiling my evening. I hope he bumps into Ms. Prada Suit on his bike and they both fall down and break their legs. |
Why the hell am I even going to this interview? I already know I can't do the job. I can't stand in the sun for 9 hours straight every day, begging strangers to donate money to starving children on other continents. I wish I could. It's for a good cause, but I'm afraid it's physically impossible for me. I'll faint from heat exhaustion, my skin will burn, my knees will buckle and I'll collapse from standing so long. Maybe this organization will have other jobs open. Indoor jobs that a weak, pale runt like myself can succeed at. Anyone in the Chicago area: If you know of a job opening that does not involve long hours in the hot sun, please let me know. |
Sticky | Tuesday, July 12, 2005 Oh such boredom, such links: This isn't what you think it is.. (Note: NOT PRON, but funny.) XXXX GALUMPIA ADULT XXXX Warning: This site contains images. Hey, remember this. The spikey-weenie rape defense device? They're banning it. Fuckers! AHHHH! SHARKS!! Shark Safety Tips Kind of funny.. though I don't think the pictures of dead sharks are very funny. =( And finally, If you like bruises.. I certainly do. | Monday, July 11, 2005 Bleach hurts and red fades, so I went for good old black. |
My car is fixed! I'm free!!!!!! | Sunday, July 10, 2005 I had a fun weekend. I actually got to leave the house! Yipee! I'd tell you all about it, but I would sound like a livejournal- "omg me and so and so did bla bla bla and it was liek sooo fun" But I'll say this- my weekend involved (in no particular order): bad spinach, the hyper wiggly dance, modeling scared faces for a comic, a missed opportunity to shove a certain jerkwad down the stairs at the Exit, chocolate cake to make up for the bad spinach, lots of sexy stuff, taking reference pictures (not of the sexy stuff, perv!), brunch where I used to read poetry in the old 'hood, proofreading a comic, accidentally almost eating meat when I got home.. All in all, not bad. I should go out and do stuff more often. Let's hope next week is titled: "Allison Gets A Job". | Saturday, July 09, 2005 Look at Bud the cat. He's just begging to have stuff put on him. Stuff On My Cat Any suggestions? |
Allison, Thank you for contacting us regarding our soy in Morningstar Farms products. We purchase our soy ingredients on the commodities market. It is unlikely it is from Brazil as soy is plentiful in the U.S. We appreciate your interest in our company and products. Sincerely, Kathleen Eckler Consumer Specialist Consumer Affairs Department | Friday, July 08, 2005 hehehe My secret job: Allison Quick, the Assassin Chic A Chance Meeting - Part I falling asleep to the sound of sirens (Allison Quick, the Assassin Chic) By the lovely and colorful vaudevillian Nina Hyena |
This is a little more like it..
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Okay, now I'll contradict myself. Just to keep it interesting. If I were of able body and mind (and trust me, I'm not) here are 6 reasons I might go to war: 1. Money 2. Adventure 3. Lack of better jobs in the US 4. Stories 5. Cool uniforms 6. Roundabout way of suicide |
Everybody else is blogging about the thing in London. Yes, it's very sad. If you lost a friend/family member in the explosions, I'm very sorry. War should be limited to those who volunteer for it. Leave the rest of us alone, motherfuckers. It freaks me out that something like that could happen on Chicago's el. But truthfully I love trees and animals more than I will ever love humans. The filthy, parasitic fleshbags.. And so I'm becoming a crazy old man. Today, I sent a kooky, concerned citizen letter to a company over something rediculous and obscure. As we all know, I love fake meat. It has the tastiness of real meat, without the yuckyness. (I know, I know.. I'm backwards and un-American for not splooging over a big, bloody steak. But I won't change. So don't even say it.) Most of my fake meat comes from Morningstar Farms, because it's available at any grocery store, and I don't have the $ or transportation to shop at some yuppified, charge you up the ass, health food store. Anyway, I read this and panicked a bit. I know there's no way to live perfectly. You're always harming someone or something somehow. But rainforests are useful and pretty and I just wanted to make sure that my eating habits were not in any way contributing to their demise. --- Hi! I want to start off by saying I love Morningstar Farms products. They taste great and are widely available, making it easy to live without eating disgusting dead animal corpses. Recently though, I've heard they've been cutting down the Amazon rainforest to make soy farms. From what I understand, most of the soy grown on these farms is used to feed cattle. But I'm wondering. Is any rainforest soy used in Morningstar Farms products? If not, where is the soy grown? Thanks! -Allison S --- Allison S... (Not really) Saving the world through self-righteous bullshit! | Thursday, July 07, 2005 The most inaccurate personality test I've ever taken. Me: Slow? Methodical? Careful? I mean, it'd be great if people saw me that way.. but if you know me, you're probably laughing at this. =)
| Wednesday, July 06, 2005 Ah.. lookie here! No more template problems. All is fixed, all is good. Thanks to Mr. L. Muffin, er..uh Stan. |
So as you can see, I've attempted to improve the appearance of my lovely blog. I've changed the template, added a new commenting service. (You can't see past comments, which sucks.) But.. my nerd skills are inferior. HELP NERDS, HELP!! See how the blue boxes overlap the blogger bar at the top? How do I fix that? I'll show you my titties if you can help. In other news, I'll be in the city tomorrow for a job interview. Horray! If you feel the lack of somebody cute and strange in your life and would like to see me, just call. | Tuesday, July 05, 2005 I'm so glad it's finally over! |
Last night, I learned I'm officially the old maid of my jr. high/high school friends. Of those I still talk to (who I can count on one hand), I'm the only one not married or engaged. I didn't think it would come to this for another 10 years. At least by then I could have a book deal to boast about in response. Luckilly, I still have plenty of sleezebag college friends who aren't tied up yet. So I don't feel too inadequate. But it leads me to wonder: what did my old friends do that I didn't? Am I some kind of commitment phobe or dysfunctional human who will never trust or love? Or are they the oddballs for settling down so early in life? | Monday, July 04, 2005 I hate holidays like this. Ones I don't feel obligated to celebrate. Blowing things up and eating barbicued cow in celebration of America isn't really my style. But I can't pretend its a normal day. Nothings open. Family's home, so I can't go 2 seconds without being bothered. A few friends asked me to go do stuff, but I'm limited by my persistent lack of a car. And now.. torrential downpour outside. ha ha fuckers! No fireworks for you! | Sunday, July 03, 2005 Today I walked to the store to get some ice cream, even though I'm lactose intolerant. It was Ben and Jerry's phish food. Those smiling chocolate fishies always cheer me up. On the way home, a moldy smell assaulted my nostrils. Dead fish were scattered along the side of the road, black flies swarming around them, yellowish guts puffing out of their dead, gaping mouths. It was so wrong.. | Saturday, July 02, 2005 I have a confession to make. I'm not really Allison, I'm just her clone. The real Allison is going to classes, then to her job, then out with her friends. She's writing all sorts of awesome things, making money and having tons of fun. Her life is so busy and exciting, she created me to sit here at home, answer her emails, post in her blog and do her laundry. She doesn't really have time for stuff like that. I'm just the clone, so I don't get fed as much. I don't have to sleep as much. I'm not as clever or cute. I don't get to go anywhere or interact with any people. What's the point? I'm the clone, so I'm not nearly as cool as the real Allison. She doesn't need me to do the fun things for her. Occasionally, if she has two dates in one night, she'll send me out with one of them. At least I get sex when that happens. If I were the real Allison and not the clone, I'd be pretty bored. That's why I write in her blog about being bored. But I assure you, Allison is out there somewhere living her awesome life. I don't see her often, since she leaves the house very early and comes home very late. But next time she's here, I'll ask her what she's been up to. | Friday, July 01, 2005 Me and Bud the cat: anime style. Made by this site |
Dream of a certain ex-boyfriend of mine. ("Who?" is inconsequential. Nobody recent.) He was dressed as Elvis. He handed me a beer. Feeling better today. Woke at noon and have been reading Hard Times by Dickens ever since. Though I usually run screaming from anything written before 1960, I really like this book. The wordiness drives me nuts and the distinction between the "good" and "bad" characters is a little too clear-cut for me to believe. But all in all, it's amusing. It pokes fun at the (still rampant) sentiment found amongst assholes that art and enjoyment and contemplating are useless things and that facts, money and posessions are what really matters. Though I think the title Hard Times would better suit a porno. And, after many months.. a new Happy Hour chapter has been posted! *glee* |
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