Women Are Gross Too, You Sexists. [Journal 7-28-17]

Lizz Wright – When I Fall.

Well, I’m still f***ing tired. The last three weeks of looking for work/housing, then working as a cook, moving, and stressing over the insane roomies, hasn’t given much downtime – and when I get some, I’ve been so keyed up that I couldn’t relax. Even most of the last three days, wherein I’ve been off work, have been spent on the moving process. And tomorrow, before work, I have to meet with ex-Landlord to settle our accounts, then head to the shelter for some silly business.

Bleh. I just want some fucking down time. Hopefully, I’ll work the next four days, then have two of nothing but relaxation, wherein I can sleep and space out to mindless video games, filthy pornography, impactful books, and fattening food.

It’s good to finally be back on the blog, I did miss her – my surrogate wife. I think I’ll start a social engineering section on the blog. I don’t like the idea of leaving other projects on here unfinished before doing so, but it’s not as if it matters. Either way, it seems important to add the section, given that I have to do it all that time to placate the masses, and am now committing to it. I’m gonna end up explaining the entirety of the human experience before I find a wife, at this rate. The damn blog is nearly a year old now. Hundreds of years from now, humanity’s gonna be thinking: “Why didn’t they throw all the pussy at him?”

Aside from rehashing subjects that are in the backlog of journal entries, I can only think of one subject to cover at the moment – and I’m too damned tired to think of better. That subject is: the ladies. As I’ve stated elsewhere in the blog: I tend to become the favorite of ladies in whatever social group I frequent – primarily at work. But, I’ve only rarely had random flirtations directed at me. That is to say: women are usually put-off by my gruff nature, until, after a long period of interaction, they see the sweet sensitive mother fucker underneath.

Well, that’s changing. I’m getting so damned pretty, that strangers are regularly checking me out/flirting. Which I think is pathetic, given my recently losing faith in humanity; before that, I was far more generous toward others, and forgiving of their faults. But now that I don’t want to interact with practically anyone, and am intolerant of common behaviors, bitches start throwing panties – just because I’m prettier. Ah, people. So stupid.

I should only get prettier, as the job’s demanding, and the depression isn’t resurging; in the place of that depression, is the productive metacog I developed to combat it. So, if I keep lighting pussies on fire, I suppose the option of casual sex – with noncoworkers – might become available; I won’t touch coworkers. I’d enjoy the sex and casual interaction, but will likely abstain as bitches fall in love with the Mentallurgist, whether they want to or not. I have a really thick, burning, veiny brain. My dick’s just ok.

And to think, during my recent depression, I’d have been upset by these sluts tempting me, and my being morally unable to get involved with them. Now, I just let it go. It’s just so pleasing to not be depressed! Christ I need some though. All over me. All the time. God I miss tearing it up. But noooo, I have to be a good person. Fuck you again, life!

Oh, I wanna do a Let’s Play With My Heart, but that’s prolly a bad idea in my new houseshare, as people will hear my mad ramblings. Sorry; make the world a place which accepts me, and I’ll be able to ramble anywhere you like.


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~ by Louis Naughtic on July 29, 2017.

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