User:VyvyanWilde/Dear John

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Dear John,

My eyes were stinging like the fucking clap.

Fuck. Another sleepless night. My eyes are like 80% blood vessel things now. Around 3:30 AM, when I began started writing this, I was so damn high-strung from the coffee, so- You know, I probably shouldn’t be having coffee. Not since I went on that high and ended up fucking the postman. Actually, I think it was just pile of junk mail. Actually, come to think of it, that wasn’t so bad. I’ve had worse, like from that Kristine girl with the harelip. It wasn’t the harelip so much as the thought that Oh my god im doing an Asian chick with a harelip. Was she Asian?

Well anyway, I was so shitfaced- shitfaced like hyper shitfaced- as I started this thing that when I wrote “Dear John” the goddamned Word Office Assistant fucker came up and scared the shit out of me. Seriously, I nearly shit myself. I'm serious, man, don’t use this piece of crap Word. It’s sucha piece of crap. You read in all those free magazines in the paper that that Bill Gates is all the fucking Africa philanthropist shit but he must not be that great cause Africa is still knee-deep in its own turd. Seriously, that is a fucked country. I guess South Africa’s white, though, and Egypt has its oil or whatever…still, you’d think with all the bitchslapping Vanity Fair does those little kids would have some non-AIDS-carrying food already.

You know, I was reading something in some newspaper magazine. (I know you don’t know what I mean cause you’re a high-class wanker. Come on, I know you, dude, and I know you subscribe. Probably to Time.) It was all about that AIDS crap that you hear all the time ("Use protection, kids!"). It was pretty boring, but what got me was this list of famous people who had AIDS. And it turns out that Freddie Mercury had AIDS. Freddie Mercury from Queen! Now, you know I'm a pretty open-minded guy but I couldn't help thinking, "What exactly did he mean by 'Put a gun against his head' ?" And then I got kinda grossed out so I don't think I'll be listening to Queen anymore. At least, not until I can get the nasty-ass images out of my mind. So I guess you can have A Night at the Opera back.

Later, I asked Angela if Freddie was actually gay (cause I guess he could have gotten it from doing drugs. Like Jake when he shared a needle with that guy at the Bronze Stallion Theatre. I figured she'd know this shit what with her fat ass parked in front of the TV all day. And she was like, "Fucking god, haven't you ever seen him?" And I was like, "LOL I will beat your ass if you say another goddamned word to me like that." But I actually said "LOL" so she'd know I was kidding. I don't hit chicks with dicks. (LOL)

I can't believe this homo was the writer of We Are the Champions.

So then we got on YouTube and watched one of Freddie's music videos and oh my god was that guy a queer! I mean, who else but a fag would prance around like that with fucking bananas on his head? How can gays expect respect and shit when they have this dude as their leader? Jesus. But it's so weird because not all gay guys are like him. Some of them are just like normal beer-drinking straights. And it makes me wonder: How many of my buddies are secretly gay? Like my brother-in-law, Marcus. I just figured out a couple months ago at the family reunion that he's queer. We had to sleep in the same bedroom too, cause the first floor of Angela's parent's house got fucking flooded. So I spent half the goddamned night wondering of I should plug my butt with his pink-ass curtains, only to realize that the pile of blankets on the bed wasn't him and he's been out being gay with his gay friends. And when he did come home, just as I was falling asleep, it turned out that he wasn't a rapist. He only had severe sinus problems. All in all, I think I would have rather been pegged then have to listen to that fucking black church choir in his nose for the rest of the night.

Christ, I'm getting pissed just talking about this. Speaking of which, Angela's gone on this sudden religious purity thing lately. Telling me not to cuss and shit. I honestly don't know what's wrong with her. She just sometimes gets these ideas in her head (remember the cooking-with-soy thing last month?) and you can't get a fucking word in edgewise. I guess it's because of her Jesus-freak sister she visited last month that she's all saved and shit now. Seriously, she used that word. Saved. But what really irritates me is that she forces it on me like some damn Jehovian. Sucks the fun out of everything, including sex which God apparently doesn't want you to enjoy. Like screwing a fucking cactus...Last night we were watching A Clockwork Orange cause she "had her period" for the fifth time this month. And when it got to the first scene with those bunch of hobos raping that chick, she just freaked out. She like jumped up, put on the lights and started ramming on the remote until it switched over to some Lifetime fluff. And she was like, "What in heaven's name was that?!" And I said, "That's quality freaking cinema, you whore." And then she just left. But I guess it was alright cause I got to watch the rest of it alone and didn't have to feel weird when people started fucking. I could actually relax, you know?

That film got me thinking about shit. About life and death and stuff but also about violence. Seeing the guys beat up the old man, I was like That's fucked up. But then I thought about the time the four of us gave that dude outside the bar hell for flirting with Don's whore. I mean, we were wasted and he was a total cocksucker, but still. I feel kinda bad about it now. I think if I could meet him again I'd get him a drink or something. Even if he's a prick, I'd buy him something good. Maybe I should try and find him...