monday, september 2

it is 6:30 pm on september 2nd - my drag persona named abby blazavich is overtaking my existence again. no, i'm not in drag - i'm in my underwear. i guess i did wear one of abby blazavich's wrestling singlets earlier today. yeah, when i am in my wrestling singlets, i am my crossdressing alter-ego named abby blazavich.

i was angry enough to show up in my singlet at target, where i was told years ago that i was not allowed to show off my body like fat chicks show their bodies. well, they didn't say "you're not allowed to show that much skin," someone in management from niger(ia) told me to put more clothes on. they didn't say anything today.

anyway, i got angry enough to flaunt myself at target because, while i was having lunch with my mother, she was criticizing me yet again. actually, when i got out of my car and was walking toward her, i got a feeling that she was trying to find something about me to criticize. i was wearing nice shorts and a nice shirt, but after looking right at me and not saying anything for five seconds or so, she once again criticized my shoes. i guess that's all she could find a problem with. "you need good support, especially because of all the problems you had after the accident".

well, that is the way it started. lunch was fine, but when we were going to get she doesn't approve of the rapist, she tells me that he doesn't care about me, she tells me that she is the only one who cares about me, she was "adam ant" about my not being able to see that the people in my life don't care about me. she tells me that i am not progressing - i know that she meant progressing from my brain-damage (tbi, "traumatic brain-injury") that happened 23 years ago.. i guess "not progressing" means that she thinks that i do inappropriate stuff because of my damaged brain. mom, give me some credit here, i do inappropriate stuff because i am inappropriate. oh, yeah, she also said that the only therapist who can help me is a TBI therapist. oh, therapist, did i say "the rapist" before? ha.

on the road to the ice-cream stand, she almost flew off the handle when i told her that i trust my rapist. :) i mean, my therapist. i figure that she won't accept the man that i am, i know that she sees my eccentricities as a consequence of the brain-damaged 16 year-old that i was - it's like, just as long as there's something about me that she doesn't agree with, i'm still a brain-damaged 16 year-old with no identity.

pick, pick, pick..."nobody cares about you but ME"...pick, pick, pick..."people pretend to care about you because they want your money"...pick, pick, pick...oh, and then she brought up the fact that the only reason i wear my cleveland browns cap is because i'm in pittsburgh where most people hate the browns. she said "you taunt people," and i replied "yes, i do" like paul finch said "yes, i am" when stifler called him a "motherfucker"...or when michelle said the reason she "accepted this date" was because she wanted to get laid - "you're a sure thing". jim feels slightly hurt or betrayed, then he says "yes, i am". ha.

i'm sure i taunt fans of the steelers with my cleveland browns cap, i'm sure i taunt people named abby blazavich when my drag name shows up all over google, i taunt people who only tolerate members of the lesser gender dressing in short-shorts and tube-tops (as a member of the greater gender, you should see my wardrobe), i taunt females in tube-tops by standing on my tippy-toes and more-than obviously looking down their cleavage. that happened just today. oh, also today i said to myself "fat people shouldn't dress like that" as i was standing next to a man when a scantily-clad fat girl walked into the restaurant.

it's now 7:32. yes, i taunt people - and by taunting them i am mocking them. this is what i do. i taunt and mock in every letter of complaint that i write. check out my letters page at - so much disrespect and hatred drip from my keyboard like cum drips from the ceiling after i masturbate. ha, yes, my dick is that big. :)

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