[--------------------------------------------------------------------------] ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #730 `888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 888 888 888 888 888 "I Am So Sexy" 888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 888 888 888 888 888 " by Phairgirl 888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 7/6/99 o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8 [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] I decided long ago that I am never going to have children, most likely never marry, and live my life the way I choose and never ruin the human race. See, every time I tell my mother this, she immediately retorts, "Well, you say that now, but give it five or ten years and you'll be living in the middle of suburbia with your husband and three kids." This is when I give my mother a very evil nasty look. She's lived with me since, hell, since I was born, if you exclude the two times when I moved out. She tells me daily what a pain in the ass I am. She can barely tolerate me. So what makes her think that I'm going to find anyone who will willingly put up with me? Without that "unconditional love" thing, I think my mother would be in prison for murder a long, long time ago. I know what you are thinking, reading this silly file, "Oh, silly Phairgirl! Another one of those girls who think that NO BOY WILL EVER LIKE THEM, well boo hoo!" No, it's not like that at all. Okay, sometimes I can be like that, I admit, it's that damn estrogen. However, to prove my point, I decided that maybe a list of non-compromisable issues and statements of fact would be in order. 1. Everything annoys the hell out of me. This is a rather broad and over-general fact of existence; it is also absolutely and completely true. To narrow it down, in case you're REALLY INTERESTED, I will list precisely everything that annoys me. a. Scraping your teeth on your fork when you eat. b. Getting out of the car before I turn it off. c. Doing stupid macho driving thinks, e.g. peeling out, speeding over big hills, taking corners at no less than 849 miles per hour, spinning doughnuts. d. Putting the toilet paper on the roll with the paper coming off from UNDERNEATH. e. Changing the channel during every commercial break. f. Heat, in any way, shape or form. I prefer to live in a sixty degree environment. g. Baseball caps. h. Leaving your shit strewn everywhere across the room, for more than a week. i. Leaving the toilet clogged. j. Eating butter--straight. k. Ketchup on eggs or macaroni and cheese. l. The words "creamy," "meaty," "boost," "snack," and "hearty." m. Smacking your lips when you eat. Yechhhh. n. Leaving empty boxes/containers in the refrigerator. o. Putting pop cans and paper plates in the sink. p. Criticizing my music choices. There are many more, but I must move on, or this will be a 100K file. 2. I like to argue, but only when I'm right. I love to rip people's ideas and opinions to shreds; however, if we are debating a fact, and I'm wrong (although obviously I'm pretty damn positive that I'm right), I don't want to argue about it. I prefer to live in ignorant bliss, maybe perhaps read the correct answer somewhere else and learn, but I don't want someone to argue the point to my face. I prefer not to feel stupid. However, I will stop at nothing to prove that you ARE stupid, should you challenge me on a point, whether you are right or wrong. I like to put something like this into an example: When I was about 12 years old, I was playing Trivial Pursuit with my neighbor (note: I AM THE TRIVIA MASTER, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DEFEAT ME BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE) and the answer to some question was, on the card, "Judaism." Me, being twelve, did not think to say "judaism" as my answer, but rather, "jewish," because, criminy, I was twelve. My stupid neigbor said I was wrong. I yelled at her for about fifteen minutes saying it was the SAME THING, and she wouldn't listen to me. Finally my mom had to send her home because my whole face was red and I was within inches of killing her. It was great. Conversely, I was once having an argument (that I dare not repeat, because it made me look stupid) about ethnic slurs, and I insisted that one slur was for one ethnicity, while two people argued that I was wrong. Well, as I found out two days later, they were right, but I called them every name I could imagine that is synonymous with "stupid" and was ready for physical violence. Now I feel stupid. I just wish they would've let me think I was right and let it go, because obviously I learned better without looking like an ass. Don't call me a hypocrite, or I might have to kill you. 3. My stuff is my stuff. Your stuff is my stuff. This one is easy; if it is mine, then nobody is allowed to touch it, drive it, play it, or mess with it except for me. However, if you buy something new, I want to play with it, drive it, turn it upside down, and take it apart. If I cook something, you don't get any unless I am feeling very nice and made a lot. If you cook something, you better share or die, or at least tell me beforehand that it's not for me so that I don't get my hopes up. If you believe in astrology, or at least find it interesting, I am a Taurus. In fact, if you read the description of a Taurus, it is me. My possessions are everything to me. If you steal from me, prepare to die. If you mess with my possessions, but don't ruin them, well, prepare to die anyway. However, I want everything I see, and if it just happens to be yours, you better at least let me play with it a little bit, or I might want to steal it. I won't steal it, but I'll sneak around behind your back and use it anyway. 4. Children are evil little things. I really despise children. Okay, that's a little broad; I don't hate them all. I don't like kids before they learn how to talk and how to listen. I don't like kids after they are old enough to challenge my authority. Five year olds rock. After that, it's all downhill, and they need to stay very very far away. I am never going to give birth. First, it's yucky. I don't want my crotch opened up to unattainable widths and viewed by a hospital staff. I don't want to wear retarded looking clothes for nine months. But most of all, I don't want to have to take a baby home with me afterwards and have to lose forty pounds. This, although scary, yes, is not my real problem with having children: my mother has long since cursed me that I will have a child who is JUST LIKE ME. I'm not taking any chances. I was a pain in the ass to raise. 5. I am a psychotic recluse. If everything I've said before is wildly exaggerated, well, this one ABSOLUTELY IS NOT. I hate people because someone always pisses me off for some reason or another. Either everyone around me is too stupid for me to comprehend, or they're all high and mighty and act like they're so much better than me that I'd rather kill them all than listen to their Honors Biology drivel for another nanosecond. It may sound odd that I have a wide range of friends and acquaintances. As my friends will gladly tell you, they all piss me off all the time and I can only hang out with them for a short period of time, followed by a week of recovery. Then, there's that "psychotic" part. I have this really odd disorder which is similar to manic depression, but it travels in superfast cycles. Rather than days and weeks of high/low periods like bipolar disorder, my moods will swing to extreme ends in a matter of hours... or less. If someone says something that catches me the wrong way, and I'm not in a decent mood, I will go psycho and need to be completely alone to deal with my depression. Conversely, I have also found myself doing incredibly stupid things because I have this insane natural high that makes me act obscenely silly and hyper. I suppose a bit of an example is in order for this one. Say I'm hanging out with my SIGNIFICANT OTHER, watching a good movie (good meaning lots of DEATH and BLOOD SPRAYING), and I seem to be really happy and content. In fact, I might be sitting upside down in the chair, talking in funny voices, and making up nonsense blues songs (I tend to do that a LOT for some reason when I'm hyper). Suddenly, my SIG FIG turns to me and says, "Will you knock that off? I can't hear the movie." Then, as the EVIL RUINER OF MY FUN watches the movie, I get all doe-eyed and wonder what I did wrong, and DO THEY REALLY LOVE ME, and AM I WASTING MY LIFE, and within minutes, I am in my room flailing about, trying to not think about pills and knives!#@! WHEE FUN!#@! Then my cat will do something funny, and I will laugh a lot, and I will remember when Effy changed the lyrics in that Stabbing Westward song to "I CAN'T EVEN SHAVE MYSELF" and in less than a half hour, I am back to normal, and watching the movie. Believe it or not, I am doing a lot better now than a year ago, and although that never happened, it's pretty close to what did. I'm not quite so off-kilter now, but then again, I don't have a SIGNIFICANT OTHER anymore either. YET ANOTHER REASON. 6. I might kill you. Now, just in case there's someone out there who is thinking, "Well, Phairgirl, as idiosyncratic and hypocritical as you have painted yourself to be, you still don't sound all that horrible. Hell, I'd do ya," I must dispel all thoughts that I am attainable and tolerable: I have no qualms in killing another person if they drive me to it. If someone were to screw around on me, if someone were to lie to me about something pretty major, if someone hit me or my cats (I almost forgot: I am required, by virtue that I am alive, that I must always have at least two cats), then they are privy to death. When I was four, this friend of the family had this obnoxious daughter who always used to hit me. She was five. I was taught never to hit back. So, I told my mom that Keri kept hitting me. She got REALLY ANNOYED after about the twentieth time. Finally she said, "If Keri hits you again, beat her up!" Within five minutes, you could hear Keri screaming halfway across the neighborhood, as I had knocked her flat on her stomach and was sitting on her back, furiously pounding my fists on her. They peeled me off. It happened AGAIN ten minutes later. Keri was lucky; she was bigger than me and I wasn't all buff. However, I am fully aware that if someone were to provoke me, I would not just knock them down. I am big enough now that I know WHERE and HOW to hit someone. In fact, I would not be surprised in the least if the mortician had to knock me off three days later. As wonderful as this all sounds, I'm sure there will STILL be guys chasing me down and wanting to spend their lives with me. Some crazy fucker will most likely STILL want to endure a life with me as I yell at them to eat properly and argue with them that Mewtwo is NOT the coolest Pokemon. But then again, who can blame them? I'm a great lay. [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #730 - WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 7/6/99 ]