Anatomically Incorrect

Dear Barbie Dreamhouse Diary-

I love you. You're so pink and fluffy. Your so soft and gooey. You're so oooey goooey chewy and chocolatey. Thank you for the increase in the Zoloft (that I haven't yet started- lest you wonder in your Barbie pea-brain); I think that any minute my bangs and my scrunchie will make me beautiful.

Give me a girl in a skirt and kneehighs STAT. Cardigans are a plus. Hairy legs are a must.

Do I look at guys because I like a good, or even better, awesome fucking, or is it because I am jealous of them, and want to be one, kinda am? While I could pine away for my phantom facial hair, there was that day the genius said I had a mustache and I had seen it in the night as well, and I kinda freaked. Mustaches are forever are they not?

Unlike mullets, they're irrevokable.

I can shave my legs, but I don't again.

If I had a beard, would I wear it long?

If I had a penis of my very own, I could hold it right now. I could slick it up and spank it, and maybe I wouldn't have the mama belly that makes the impracticality of the yogic magicality prohibitive. Would anyone suck it?

I feel for men, because there is nothing sadder than a cock not being sucked, except for my phantom phallus, my lady bits and nether regionalities not being sucked.

So Dr. Jung, can I haz your blessing?

Here it is, out in the open, now anyone can steal my astrological identity. GO, be conflicted with that T-square. I wish you luck in having your Mercury square Saturn over there in the 12th house and square Jupiter over there in the 6th house. You will be driven to compulsively communicate your innermost feelings. In fact, your health and sustenance will rely on it.

I know I just lost each and every atheist admirer right there.

Fuck that dogma.

Dogma style?


I have about 300 seconds until I have to remove my toosh from this lousen chair at the coffeeshop I love. I hear children crying. I see a girl learning to walk. I hear folkish music, smell coffee, and can look in any direction and see unisex art and restrooms, and velvet chandeliers with little tassels.

There is an AA meeting next door and it makes me feel safe that it's there, even though it's a lame one.

I shall hang on for dear life,
lest the weight of all those six packs
make me sink or swim.
I'm kinda lazy, would rather float
on a raft,
Hear me beefcake?
I'll lick that frosting.

Time's up.


Liberality said...

damn woman, you continue to amaze me! carry on and such...

Randal Graves said...

You only put up that astronaut chart because of the 69 in the lower left corner in order to attract Ken the Dreamboat®, don't lie.

Ha ha, this atheist is still here. You owe me ten bucks or something.

Don't feel for us. We can still blow shit up when we're sad and that's kinda cool.

Dr. Zaius said...

Ha! Your Moon is in Gemini and your Venus is in Pisces - That explains EVERYTHING.

GETkristiLOVE said...

Hmmm, looks like those guys would rather lick their own frosting.

Utah Savage said...

That's some poem!

So here's the deal. I can't seem to find you unless I follow you home or meet you twittering. What's up with this? Why am I so lame I can't figure out how to find you when I need my Freida fix. This is ruining my self esteem.

Utah Savage said...

Randal that 69 is me. All gemini all the time.

Don't let Dr. Z scare you about that moon in gemini thing. It's why you have to have to have to write.