:) Ran :) dom :)

• When my hair was longer, whenever I took a shower, I afterwards had to remove long hairs from between my ass-cheeks. Now that my hair is barely at shoulder length, nothing has changed.

• I like to sing self-made songs with ridiculous lyrics whenever I am angry, bored or just because. One of them is an ode to my cat, another is a repetition of the words "zucchini  with oregano, zucchini over the piano."

• My newest cat loves to play fetch. She likes to play that with hair bands and me. She throws me to the other end of the room and then the hair bands pick me up and take me back to her, usually with a mild concussion. Hair bands like in early metal years, only from rubber.

• A good mosquito is a dead mosquito.

• A good Nazi is a brainwashed, hippy fucking, reduced to drooling moron and willing to admit the error of his ways, dead ashamed Nazi, who works as a volunteer at the third world countries.

• I have an authority problem. They cannot break my cat communicating code and wish they could eat the amounts of chocolate I eat and live to tell the tale. I, on the other hand, cannot talk because my mouth is stuffed.

• Sometimes I want to chase after people and when I catch them, beat seven shades of black and blue out of them. Sometimes it happens to me several times in the same day. And sometimes I love everybody, including my boogers. If it happened often my boogers would have reached 8.9 points in the Buddha scale, so I try to avoid it.

• Birds usually excite me as much as they excite my cats, especially small birds. I want to put them in my mouth whole. Robins are so cute and tiny. Worst of all are hummingbirds. I want to eat them in handfuls. I guess they are lucky not to live in Greece save for the island of Crete? The smaller the bird, the bigger my excitement. Small fluffy things that try to escape me. Nom nom nom. All mine. Same goes for baby rabbits and hamsters and generally small cute fluffy thingies that try to escape me.

• When I touch items that have been put aside for a long time and have gathered stale energies I start farting. Sometimes it smells so bad that I have to run to the other room while making outraged gurgling noises. In reality I'm secretly proud of their potency. I also like to smell my own dirty socks and underwear and yell 'ew!' before throwing them at the laundry basket. Oh, and I always want to look at my production after number two, to appraise the possible value and be sure no-one stole my poop from inside the toilet or something.

• Morbid and grotesque appeals to me as much as cute does. The combination is my specialty in my daily communication.

• Boobies are God/dess's gift to the boobless.

• Humongous boobies make the best pillows but not for the one owning them. 

• If we are not animals, why there is blood coming out from my vagina once a month? And why do men have trouble avoiding walls when they unexpectedly see boobies?

• For those of you who will read the above and claim I did not breastfed enough, I have breaking news to announce. I am still at the Freudian anal stage as well. I can hear my sense of humour cackling like a witch with rheumatism from the bottom of a toilet. Live with it.Or piss off.

• The perfect man is a combination of Jung and Oscar Wilde, with the past of Nero and Casanova and the bright future of Gandhi on the rare days he was possessed by the spirit of Jeffrey Dahmer. I won't mind less than perfect abs. But he has to have manners and killing lines, and be kinky in bed. And I would like him to be attractive. At least to me. I swear I'll be spoon feeding him ice cream, naked and dressed in whatever ridiculous outfit he wants me to wear. Even a bee suit. 

• I cannot live without eggs. People who do not eat eggs are infidels. They must all die. Except for those allergic to eggs. I'll let those live and feed them eggs three times a day.

•  God is a metaphor. God is prone to boob hypnotism. God is on vacation and forgot to return. God is particularly pissed off at me, but he can eat my pussy after I have shaved it sparkling bald and smooth and kiss my well developed ass. God/dess, on the other hand, is another story. One with a happier ending.

I dare say I am done. At least for now.