poo-poo poetry coroner

Soon, you'll get the full story, but for now...enjoy shitty poetry:

Henry’s, Post-010105M

Like a bad dream he called
Like a nightmare, I answered
Hungover from the encounter
Reeling from red cancer.

He left me with a hug,
Thank god it was not a kiss,
He left me with skin crawling
And only knowing this,

That the devil is in the details
And not a thing has changed
The right choice was made
The right man had been estranged.

And no, it's not about Ian, but Douchebag #1. :)

Here's another...

Upon My Death, I’ll Make Millions

My poetry is shit
I’m sure that you can see
Here’s hoping I’m better at short stories,
Or at the least, photography.

Sidenote: I may not be able to attend school this semester. I have no money. I'm waiting to hear about a few scholarships, but I'm not getting my hopes up. :( There's about a 1/4 inch of ice covering everything outside. It's the bees knees.

fuck you, I'm funny

Okay, so it took me an hour and a half to get my email box under 100 emails. Some of you might receive replies to REALLY OLD EMAILS. Rejoice and be well.

And now, in no specific or extemely readable order....the news.

Ryan, the ass who fucked me over from the age of 16-21, recently came back into the area for the holidays. He currently lives in BULGARIA, doing computer animation. He's a fucker, tried and true. But he's a "smooth" fucker. A smiling snake, if you will. I initially told him that yes, we could meet up for lunch or whatever, but this caused so much anxiety on my part (I have no intentions of EVER getting back with that, but it felt like confronting an abuser) that I cancelled and told him it was not a good idea. He pulled the "That's not the Jill I know" card like I knew he would, attempting to take a stab at my strength. Because apparently, taking his shit for a few years proved my "strength". HA. ha. Anyway, I ignored it and went on with my life. Then, last Friday, he called and left a message saying that it was RUDE of me to do what I did and that he was in Lawrence. I took the bait, called him back, and caved. Logically, I didn't understand why I would be so upset at talking to him, or the mere thought of seeing him. And it intrigued me. Even now, I'm shaking a little.

So yes, I met up with him, had a drink at Henry's. It was a bad idea. People who are COMPLETELY FUCKED UP, never change...especially when they're in their 30's and are still the same "smooth operator" as before. I wasn't laying into him, but I was giving him a clear picture of the damage he did. He probably thinks I'm a bitter, angry woman who will never get over it. Which is only true when I have to deal with the thought of him (haha, therapy? Yes, thank you.) Anyway, he kept smiling that stupid snake smile and we talked for a couple hours. At one point, he took my hand and very seriously told me he was sorry for all of the things he did and that he didn't know how much it hurt me until that night. I don't believe a word of it. I'll tell you why...

I knew he wanted sex. He had a seizure while we were talking (not the first indication, mind you). These seizures are the result of a brain tumor. Excessive salivating triggers it...so, food and sex. There was no food. I finally got up to leave, he walked me to my car, gave me a hug, and said..."so, is that it?" I was like, "Uh...Yeah. O_o" I knew he wanted me to invite him back to my apartment. HAHA, ew.
The kicker, came about a half hour later when I was lying in bed. My phone rings and it's him.

"I forgot to say two things"
"Um...okay." I knew where this was going, but still I hoped.
"First, the next time I'm in town, we should have sex...for old times sake. And second, good night."
After that sex bit, I just went "OHHHHHmygod." And then, "Good night, Ryan."

Never, never again will I have hope that that man will change.
Ew. Ew. and Ew.

I don't really remember what else I was going to say other than the fact that it's really cold, I wish I had a snuggle buddy (that wasn't an ASS) and is it wrong that I tried on one of my corsets the other night and got so turned on that I had to masturbate? It wasn't MY body that did it, so much as the corset. Though, I do feel better. I've been working out on a regular basis and I can feel myself getting smaller and tighter. IFYOUKNOWWHATIMEAN. wokka wokka.

Ian is still "distancing". I still have his furniture and TV.

And monkeys will fly outta my ass...

Well, I "updated" the "website".
a-heh. heh.