Click here to harass me.

I was planning on writing my next blog about high-waters and velvet shirts, but you will have to wait for that. I want to include a variety of pictures and haven't had the time to take them yet. :) So, for now you will have to settle for this.



It has recently come to my attention that I have a group of insane people who I am assuming have weekly get togethers and meetings in my honor. In my mind, I can see it. There are probably 2-5 members in all, and they are sitting indian style on the living room floor together. 10 bottles of cheap wine in the middle of them to fuel their crazy fire. (The alcohol is a MUST, because if the meeting isn't as entertaining as they expected... They will have to physically and mentally abuse eachother.) They take turns making up stories about me. Talking loudly, with a ghetto accent so believable you might even think they come from Compton. "Let's all change our myspace status messages to revolve around Kristin." Ooooh goody. Yes, let's try starting a myspace war.

Talking shit on the internet is like running in the special olympics. Even if you win, you are still retarded. I mean, honestly. Grow up kiddos.

It's funny how, no matter how long you cut off contact with crazy people, they always find a way to continue bothering you. I would think that after a year of not seeing someone, they would forget about you. I must be the silly one for ever thinking that.

How does that saying go? If you can't beat them, join them? I've been thinking of setting up my own official "hater" website. I can volunteer photos of myself that show of my worst traits. Post stories of my most embarrassing moments. Put my phone number and home address on there too, just to make sure the stalking is being done in the most efficient manner possible. Everytime I get a boyfriend or an interest in a guy at all, I will make sure to post the link to his myspace and his cell phone number. Just in case they didn't already know how to stalk him. That way they can make sure to try to ruin it for me. It would be a shame if I was happy wouldn't it? GOD FORBID. Let's never let that happen. Promise? :) I'll call the site "Kristin is a dirty whore who is ugly and fat." That about covers it for the insults most twits come up with right? Do you find it even remotely strange how every person you don't like, JUST so happen to all have the exact same qualities. What a coincidence...

There will be a small membership fee. Don't worry, this money will go towards a good cause. THE ANNUAL Fuck You Kristin camping trip! The membership fee will provide the booze and plenty of tents for all of Kristin's ex boyfriends and haters who will be invited. All of the haters will be expected to sleep with at least ONE of Kristin's ex's. I am sorry to be so demanding but rules are rules! How else are we going to keep things entertaining, and continue to try and hurt Kristin?

If you know anyone who builds websites, let me know. It would be an added bonus if they were interested in joining the club.

Have a wonderful day haters. :)

BUGS

There are bugs in this house. I have never seen them before. The past few days I have watched them transform from small black bugs that seemed to be content crawling up the outter walls of the house into home invaders. They are smarter than I thought, and they have grown larger and have learned to fly. God is punishing me, and I am sure of it. "Get a job or I will infest your house with bugs." That's what he is saying... Sitting up there, just laughing his holy ass off while he watches me twitch and slap. I am sitting in the house of plague. I don't have any crops, otherwise he would have sent the locusts. They started outside of the house. Smart bugs I tell you. I have to find a way to get them out.



Maggie (my step sister who I live with) happens to think that catching a few in a jar and taking them to Zamzows is the answer. Maybe she is right, and they will have an answer to our bug problem. I have my doubts though. I don't trust those people... The employees at Zamzows allowed my mother to buy over 40 birds from their store within a 6 month span. Doesn't that seem a little irresponsible to you? I for one, would be asking questions after the first TEN. "What are you doing with all these birds?" for example. How many parrots, cockatoos, or blue bellied finches does one woman need? Grandpa and I were forced to live in a house with 40 birds. 40 loud, squalking, shitting birds. Did the Zamzows people ever bother to ask if the crazy bird woman lived with other people who might be disturbed by the constant noise? No. Irresponsible, and money hungry. They will sell you 100 parrots as long as you pay in cash, with no reguard to the ear drums of your family members or the sanity of your 86 year old live-in father. I had a point here, believe me. Ah yes... So, who is to say that Zamzows won't try to sell us 40 bags of bug killing fertilizer and call it a day?

I am determined to survive this attack, and if God wants to send a flood I have plenty of high-waters... I'll leave that topic for my next post. :) Goodnight.

I have fans...

I have come to the conclusion that I have somewhat of a following. I haven't figured out why these people are so amused by me... All I know is, there is a demand for my ranting and it is my duty to give the people what they want! It sounds so courageous doesn't it? I am like a super hero, minus being able to fly, or shoot webs from my nuckles. I find that a little creepy anyway so, I'm over it.

I will use this space to entertain (or disgust). I will rant my pants off in hopes that it will heal my disfunction. Many counselors/psychologists/mental ward employees have suggested that writing in a journal can be helpful. I am not sure if they meant that I should keep these things in a diary with a lock, hidden underneath my bed. They didn't specify! They never specify! I will try not to rant about obvious things... Some examples include: ex-boyfriends, he said/she said drama, my crazy family, or the insane things that I do on a daily basis. Oh shit, did I just remove all of the possible hilarity? I guess I will be forced to write about those things. It's out of my hands. I have no choice.

I am having an aweful time trying to think of things to say right now. Part of the problem might be that it is 4:30 p.m. and I have yet to take a shower. Everytime I move my arms to type, I get a big whiff of my arm pits and the smell is almost too much to bare at this point. Thank God I am alone. This is embarrassing to say the least. Now that I am on the subject of being a sloth, I have come up with some subjects! WOO! This is a lot easier than I thought, let's continue.

I have no job. It seems wonderful at first... Having no responsibility, but BAM! All the sudden you start waking up in the morning with guilt. I start thinking about the 75 year old Walmart greeters, standing on those smiley face mats in the enterance of the store. Working for 8 dollars an hour. I think about how bad their arthritis is, and then wonder, can you get arthritis in your feet? I don't wish that guilt upon anyone. My dad text message harrasses me on a daily basis. "Did you find a job?" Doesn't he understand that he would be the first person I would call if I were to have found a job? "Dad, I found a job. You can stop setting 28 alarms on your phone to remind you to text harrass me throughout the day." Then trumpets would probably sound, and a huge party would be thrown in my honor. BUT, I do not WANT a job. I am starting school full time on August 25th. I have found out the hard way that when I over do it, I go insane. 40 hours a week in school should = Kristin doesn't have to work. :) If you agree, please comment on this, in hopes that my dad will read it, and see that I have back-up.

With no job comes consiquence. Main one being, I have no food in my house. Let me rephrase that... There is a LOT of food in this house, none of it belonging to me. I am slowly starving to death, and I dare not ask my parents for food money because I know what that includes. TORTURE TALK. "You are 25 years old, when are you going to grow up and get a life?" and somehow asking for food money reminds them of other money I have borrowed in the past or money owed. "When are you going to pay your car payment? If you don't give me 200 dollars by August 1st, I am taking your car, detailing it, and selling it on Craigslist." or better yet, money that my friends have borrowed. "Do you know that MOLLY still owes me 100 dollars that she has not even called to talk to me about?" As if I am the debt collector, and should have talked to Molly about this long ago. EYECORUMBA! << < I am pretty sure that is not how that is spelled, but you get what I was going for. So, you see my point. I would rather starve than ask for grocery money. *stomach rumbles*

This is enough for today. More ranting to come. :)