I am angry.

I am angry because one of the people in my building is throwing away the courier notifications and two packets that I have ordered have arrived ten days now already and no-one told me. I am pissed off because I went against my personal code that more or less tells me to mind my own business and not interfere with other people's blogs and comments. In the aftermath, I feel I lost valuable time- and time is the only thing that cannot be replaced, bought or brought back. I am also pissed off because of a million other things- because of the person that calls herself my mother and she doesn't know how lucky she is I have not used a pillow to kill her in her sleep. I am raging mad at the fact people have a very sick idea of what human relationships should be like and consider this normal. I am hopping mad at the fact I have to deal with this really twisted way of viewing reality on a daily basis with everyone, save for four whom I consider actual friends. I am disappointed because I want to have more tattoos done and need to wait. I am disgusted by the fact some people consider a torrent of swearwords and flame the standard way of communication in internet, because they don't show their ugly mugs and don't use their real names, so it is safe to be insulting towards everyone else. I am even more mad at the ones who call themselves open-minded but the only humor they considered approved is their own. I am generally, totally officially and awfully ANGRY and know just the way to deal with it. I will listen to the two GazettE cds that arrived today a few more times and enjoy those pretty Japanese boys in action.

In other news, I am happy I have not yet succumbed to the sirens singing in my head to send a few people directly to their next incarnation. Because I am sure that if I want to, I can. Who will stop me? And it is not like they are offering something by being here, quite the contrary. But then again, the worst thing these people do to someone is turning them into a version of themselves. And I will serve no-one, not even my wrath. I will not change myself for their sake. I will not change myself for the sake of anyone but myself. I can see your faces, thinking, owww, the poor thing probably broke a nail and she wants to kill the manicurist. Hahaha- I wish. I wish my problems were of this kind. I wish I was one of those unthinking blobs of meat out there. I wish the pain would stop. But the pain never stops. I wish I could at least befriend it but it keeps biting me, the damn thing.

Interesting.

I think I have discovered a haunted place. I am not sure if this is the case but I don't really think there is any other way I can describe the feeling I got.

I went out for one of my usual night walks. I am always unafraid- perhaps I do not realise the possible danger I am in, walking the streets all alone after midnight. But the night winks at me and I wink back. I have never felt afraid that something might happen to me, on a physical level or otherwise. Yet as soon as I entered a particular street I felt afraid. I actually felt the beginning of disquiet before entering the street and this feeling of something not being right insisted throughout my walk in that street. I felt threatened. I kept looking around me, kept looking back, but there was no-one there. I first attributed my feeling of discomfort to the fact there are not many streetlights in that particular place. The darkness is insistent. Some of the lights are not working and there are not enough to begin with. Not many buildings either. Some older houses, some neglected spaces. But that was not the reason for my discomfort. I am used to the darkness. It is no more than a passing thought usually while I am busy with my walking and soul searching at the same time. I am only careful not to knock my head against the lampposts because I'm so damn absentminded that I could be walking through every wall in my area without understanding why the buildings collapse after my passing. Anyway, have you ever felt that someone is eyeing you in the absolutely wrong way? The kind of intense attention that it is the prelude of violence? That was the feeling I got that night. That someone was staring at me and waiting for the right moment to jump at me and... well. Not give me flowers.

The sense of danger kept bugging me even after leaving that street. I did my tricks, called upon my hidden aces and yet whatever had spotted me seemed to be following me for a while. Then it left me alone. Of course I could not see or hear anything, but knew I had ruffled the feathers of the wrong something in there. Now I seriously consider returning there to look for more details, but I'm so organised, insisted and interested-NOT. Besides I have enough material in my life to already win the title of a surreal circus of supernatural without adding a single pinch of anything.

Don't let me go to Japan!

I am serious. Don't let me go to Japan. I don't know what it will take, but ban me from that country. And while you're at it, ban me from eBay as well.

Just imagine me there. Or rather don't. A sex-starved, androgynous beauty devotee western girl unleashed on the streets of Japan. Like Krakatoa, a Mongolian riding excursion and a banquet sponsored by Viagra and Dionysus rolled in one and interrupted by deafening farting sounds. I get excited just by thinking about it. I'm sure I will somehow spot Gackt. Or Uruha. I will sniff them. I will use my bionic super senses, trained to locate all hairless males with arms slimmer than mine and promising lips in a hundred mile radius. I bet they smell like cotton candy, hot chocolate with cinnamon and vanilla and cat fur. I will locate them and the entire police force of Japan won't be able to open my jaws, firmly secured around Gackt's underwear (with Gackt still wearing it and struggling in vain, of course). They will lose so much manpower trying to get close and being repelled by a mysterious poisonous gas that makes even gas masks melt that they'll decide to let me have him and that will be the end of it (and him). I will drag him unconscious to my lair and lick him till he has no bodily hair left, not even eyebrows. Mmm, sweet-smelling flesh, stupidity and obligation free. He can wail and scream as much as he wants, I don't speak his language. I will then raid every shop that sells those fantabulous clothes I can't buy from here, unless I sell my entire mother and one of my kidneys to the organ market. And finally, I will leave Japan with three hundred suitcases, at least fifty of  which will be delivered to FedSex (see post: advertisement) because they'll contain nekkid Japanese boy-toys (although Gackt is over thirty five). I will declare those at customs as "bedroom decoration articles/other".

Seriously. Don't let me go to Japan. I don't know what I'm capable of, but I'm sure I will find out on the spot. Someone must declare Japanese visual kei artists as endangered species and post my photo as the natural predator of the species before it's too late! Act now to prevent disaster from happening! You have been forewarned...

Like beating a cat with a bagpipe.

Talking about bagpipes... I don't know what kind of wrong food combination I've made today, but the results are spectacular, to say the least. Watching people's faces around you blistering, melting and falling off because of a single fart can only be described as spectacular, right? Then again, girls are not supposed to be capable of farting. Yeah, right. I bet that when I meet the man of my dreams he won't believe that someone as sweet and endearing as I am is capable of producing such nasty results by the simple procedure of processing food. Well guess again- this woman is an exception. She hides a nuclear waste unit inside her ass to match the brothel inside her head. Even worse, if he has the romantic idea to sleep by my side at nighttime, he's as good as dead. I mean, save for the fact I toss and kick like I'm struggling against the armies of Darth Vader, what about my food byproducts? I do have an idea what I'm capable of when I'm awake and have some control over what's going on (or should I say, what comes out?). I'm sure that when I finally fall asleep and let go of control fully, I am transformed into a one (wo)man orchestra, with my ass performing all kinds of sounds, from strings to percussion. I'm serious. Imagine that in the morning, the first thing I do when I wake up after a particularly productive night is pick up my cat that sleeps next to me and shake him, to make sure he's still alive. If I do the same to that future boyfriend, his head will probably come off, together with the arms from their sockets.

[This one is for Danie- she knows how to make me smile.]

Fun with our friends the Japanese.

Okay, by now I have a LOT of magazines and books on Gackt, an eerily beautiful and feminine Japanese singer, style somewhere between pop and rock. I also have quite a number of magazines on The GazettE, a band featuring the gorgeous guitarist Uruha, the rest of the band vary from attractive to very attractive. I had never bothered listening to any of their songs; I had been too busy burning my brains with Gackt's songs. And since pop music is not my forte, I could not really listen to it for long without my toes involuntarily curling and my liquidised brain cells dripping from my nose. Then I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to investigate The GazettE in more depth. Like an idiot I typed the name in youtube and waited to listen to something mellow, rock-pop, you know. They are all girly gorgeous and wear clothes that look like a crossover between dresses and glam rock suits with silk, velvet and studs, long lace gloves and garters an added bonus. How hard do you expect the band to be with this image? So I heard the normal intro of the song and relaxed, and suddenly my poor ears were attacked by an all guns blazing succession of growls from the singer and metal riff outbursts like machine guns from both guitarists. I paused and stared at the screen, with a stupid expression on my face. *blink blink* WTF?!? I looked at my bottle of chocolate milk with the same moronic expression, wondering what the fuck was wrong with my ears or perhaps if someone had slipped something in my drink. But The GazettE went on with all their members merrily headbanging their napes away and I actually liked what I was listening to, since the basic genre I love IS metal. So yes, the next thing that came to mind was Slayer members dressed like The GazettE and that was the end of my sanity. xD

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Please note- although we offer a wide variety of services, in the case of celebrity kidnappings extra charges and handling fees apply. We also regret to inform you that particular celebrities are excluded from our range of services due to them being perpetually chained to the bed of the company owner. Unavailable articles include Gackt Camui, Bill Kaulitz, Olivier Theyskens and Uruha from the GazettE. We apologise for any inconvenience and hope to serve you soon!

[Rachael, half credit goes to you- I hope you will find this funny!]