Me & My Fingers Tonight

Rake Magazine (January 1962) ... The $100 USB ...
Rake Magazine (January 1962) … The $100 USB Stick Your Boss Can Use To Find Your Porn — Why is pornography a problem in the workplace? (April 7, 2011) … (Photo credit: marsmet522)

If I say don’t stop. Don’t stop!  That’s the line I use on everyone.  It’s purely sexual and has many underlining meanings.  Truths that only I know.

I had been raped in boarding school by an acquaintance.  I had been drinking, we were on a ‘supposed’ date and well the rest is history.  A little roughness here and too much dryness everywhere else and I felt like I had been probed by an Elephant on Viagra.   It could have been a sanctioned meeting of the minds but honestly, I’m not sure.

My mother took me to the doctor.  I received the every hole probe.  Got a semi-clean bill of health and left with the doctor patting me on the back.

Mother Theresa didn’t wish to cause a stir amongst the neighborhood of Auburn St.  She preferred to keep North Hampton School out of the papers.  Most likely, she didn’t want our name brought up in dark corners of faculty meetings.

My second rape was in college.  Same situation.  Drunk.  Knew him.  Wasn’t really sure what I wanted and the rest went down the shit-ter.  I got smacked around and fucked so hard that my feelings are loss, both physically and spiritually.

Strolling from my attic room down to the other floors of off white paint and rooms with books purposely left open to a ‘I’m smart and I know it page’ in case we have visitors.  A piano wedges itself in the sitting room and for the first time in my life, I see my family for who they really are.

Up until five minutes ago, I had the heated comforter out, pillows propped and porn streaming live.  I had been thinking of the first conversation I had with Kate.

“I know I’m in dangerous territory telling you this but I just need to stop watching porn!”

Kate chokes and states, “Porn?”

“I think that might be my problem.  No seriously I need to stop watching it. And try to masturbate without it.  I have you now I can at least try to cut down.”

Porn is still a big part of my life.  The anger and the mistreatment of women turns me on.  I drool and watch and drool and masturbate and wonder could I get off with someone’s tongue on my clit?

I have no real feeling in my breasts, between my legs, on my clit and in my heart.  Fuck you Theresa, I was raped!  Drunk or not and someone should have stood up for me.  That is what I think when I look at the walls of the house on the hill, bare and vacant of family photos.

Anyway I  abhor my issues with sex and how it’s all comes back around to Theresa and her, ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ attitude.  That and my, it’s just going to me and my fingers tonight desires.

Honestly, Theresa, how much longer do you think I can get away with giving myself an orgasm, playing heterosexual and asking my partner’s if they have the afternoon to spare because that is how long it takes to get me off!




Ms. American Pie

great straight

Mother Forgive Me for My Sins


Dumbed Down Ambien

homophobia (Photo credit: the|G|™)

The generation I belong to seems to really understand just how shitty it is out there. The generation I have created within myself, doesn’t give a rat’s ass who gets hurt, as long as, I don’t get tainted in the process.
Let me explain a few things about Personality Disorders. I am a walking and talking example of not caring about the difference between right or wrong.
The clozapine and trazadone and anti-depressants, the melatonin and the two other pills I take are only small roadblocks in route to my destruction.
As a pretend photographer, I have attempted to find the homeless in NH. I have attempted to find out their inner workings, yet that is very difficult when standing in the womb of my parent’s checkbook. I have no clue; hence, the photos are without point and meaning.
When asked by my mother, Theresa, ‘Ambien, have you decided who you’re voting for?’
My uneducated and ignorant response was, Romney. Why? Because that is who I thought my mother wanted me to vote for.
I had found myself interviewed once for an online newspaper. Well, in all honesty, I pushed my so called girlfriend into letting me come along on the interview. I did not want her alone with my best friend Zoey! She would discover that Zoey had far more depth and originality than I. I cut that liaison off at the pass.
I had been asked three easy questions. No right or wrong answer.
Do you believe in God?
No, my parents don’t so neither do I.
Who would you want with you after doomsday has struck and there were only a handful of people alive?
Olivia Wilde!
What is global warming?
That means the seasons are going to be hotter. Wouldn’t that be cool? I hate cold weather.
So, let me put this all in perspective for my followers:
I cannot stand someone not liking me; therefore, I go out of my way to make their lives miserable.
I self-mutilate on a regular basis.
My mother and I have a weird almost sexual relationship and I somewhat enjoy that.
I live in an attic of my parent’s home, I do not pay for anything and I am the way the country is going. Dumbed down young adults.
I come from Concord NH and my bi-line is this; live-laugh-love!
Shit, I can’t even be original with my social media profile.
I am not gay! And, don’t ever accuse me of being so.
I drink like a sailor just in town from five months at sea. I, fuck, like a sailor just in town from five months at sea.
I’d rather you take a picture of me with my clothes off and I am a professional masturbator.
Ambien Grace is my name. My dog’s name is Beckett Couvilllion the third. I have tons of friends on the internet, drop me a line, I could always use one more.

Marked for Life

Hope to always lie!
Hope to always lie!

Tell me, how politically correct is it to have your legal unfit in her own well breed way, mother, dress you?  Tell you that you’ll never find someone?  Of course, that is a drunken bi-curious story for another time.

I suppose at twenty something the stains I left on others were only remnants of the fairy tale life I began to believe in.

Santa!  Bella!  Vampire!  Happy endings!  Chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate milk.  My whole being had been reared by the wicked Adopt-A-Mom, from the very beginning.

Who else but a sexually deprived and loveless mass of blood and muscle, tooth and silver spooned speech, aged woman; tells her bought at a fair market price, daughter where her redneck birthmother is?  Who spits out at every dining experience around the white bread made of mahogany setting for eight- dinner table,

“you are just as fucked up as your mother is!”

How could I have ended up any different than I am now?  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Borderline personality, Manic Depressive!

Every out of the way school I ever attended allowed me in on money not merit.

I spray myself with convenience store Smoke B Gone!  I ride with all the windows down in the car an hour after I’ve smoked.  I have a ball and chain and I don’t want to be married to her.  I want her docksiders to not match mine!

I suppose the addiction to Straight Porn is a release.  Sort of a form of Anger Management between myself and myself.

Did I say, I’m an adult, I hope so.  I don’t really feel like one.  My only hope in life was to be a famous pole dancer or lap grinder.  The feel of my nakedness is the only thing that turns me on.

Damn, if my Adopt-A-Mom wouldn’t be aghast by that.  Walking around during the company’s Christmas Party.  Showing off the newly purchased Grand Father clock, bragging to her colleagues about how her daughter is fresh out of diapers and fresh out of college.

Quickly the smug group glides upstairs to the forbidden zone.  The attic.  No, knock.  No sweetie, it’s Mom.  Just the quiet opening to a world of forty pounds overweight and deep into Deep Throat daughter.

Stain tha Mom!