Tag Archives: misti dawn

Protected: Getting Fired Diary: To Whoever Has to Monitor My Internet Activity

18 Jan

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Weekend Journal 1-13-13: Piss All Over

13 Jan

I punched Astrid in the back of the head, and she pissed on me.  Her skull made a sound like a coconut.  I forget what we were fighting about.  We were drunk, obviously.  She had had a party.  I drank two bottles of Andre® Extra Dry Sparkling California Wine from the sale rack at CVS and probably a bunch of other shit.  God only knows what she put down; she drinks like an Irish coal miner.  I was wrestling with her and kind of getting on top of her and squashing her; she likes that kind of shit because she was molested.  Then I popped her one.  You need to understand that this isn’t some shit where she cries and calls the police; she likes to get hit.  I like hitting her.  Thanks, child sex predators.

Original artwork by yours truly, in Nikol's room

Original artwork by yours truly, in Astrid’s room.

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Some Day I’ll Fuck Her and Then What

7 Jan

This is another post about this person.

Misti.  Well fuck off, I liked her.  She’s a sweetheart.  The date was surprisingly chaste, maddeningly chaste.  But then, what did you expect.  She had been scared of you.  You don’t have to fuck everybody that instant.  You can wait a couple days.   It was… fucking sweet.  It was sweet.  It was fucking romantic, for Christ’s fucking sake.  Long walks on the god damn motherfucking beach.  She revealed after the fact that she’d been wearing a wig.  How would I have known.  She wears the same wig in all of her porns.  She had fifteen of those same fucking wigs laying around.  They ought to name the long straight burgundy colored wig with no bangs after her.  To me, that is just what she looks like.  What the fuck is under there.  Maybe spiders.

Anyway, she was fucking fun and I want to see her again. but– here is the saddest fact in the world.  I could say she’s a a murderous Nazi cunt who kills kids, and I might get the second date.  But it is instant pussy death to type “she was fucking fun and I want to see her again;” somehow, stating interest dries up the vag faster than sawdust spread on a third grader’s puke.  But– fuck off.  You were fun as fuck and I want to see you again.  Eat a dick. Continue reading