Louise Pentland did a half eye with liquid eyeliner and I copied.
This necklace, I bought for £2.50 at a local charity shoppe. This bra, I bought at Primark about .. a year and a half ago. This hairclip is from The Vintage Workshop in Brighton and it cost about £4. These shorts are also old. The ribbon around my waist is old. The crimson bracelets on my ankles – one is from the packaging of a Lalique bottle and one is a lindt bunny bell. I can’t work out who my lindt bunny is.
I’ve got green glitter in the hairs on my head.
Today I’m thinking of David Bowie and his wife, and if they’re the same person, a lady I shared on facebook some time ago: that said she found other women attractive, (because, at least if you have all the body parts of a female person,) if you do not find other women attractive it’s quite impossible to be attracted to yourself.
(That video was a fast forward response to all of the meditations I was doing – I wanted the truth – I was telepathically being made to feel ugly, I was too insecure to dress up, I was robbed of the energy to be able to go to school, I have a disability – shitting twice a month is a big deal apparently.)
I met a guy called Porter when I went to uni, he faked a death I think? I know he’s not dead because his toes changed the shape of mine a bit, but they’re going back to normal now. Wherever he is, he’s wandering around barefooted.
I’ve always found other women attractive but they’ve always been the abusive ones and I have to stay away from those because I let people that I love abuse me. It’s actually quite rare for me to find men attractive which is why it’s so rude that you’ve been stealing from me all these years.
But trust me, if I were into BDSM, if I could justify being an abuser… I could do worse than all of you.
this uh. This is not BDSM. I mean, these looks might be a thing that ‘turns you on’ but it is not BDSM. If you don’t have the guts to walk around in outfits like this then it’s a performance and theres a dishonesty to performing, be yourself when you’re having sex.
To adopt a Mark from Peepshow voice: I know the Eurythmics released a song years ago that said “some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused” that is not an either or spectrum of life. I do not want to abuse people and I don’t want to be abused either.
I hung out with this guy that I nicknamed ‘kinky artist’ or something. I did it to make a guy I’d been ‘secretly’ in love with for about ten years jealous. Then I developed real feelings – the first time I met him I gave him evil looks. I fancied him a lot but I saw my first boyfriend in him and uh. Well we didn’t do anything for years.
He was too insecure to have floral dress and thigh high boot sex with me. His idea of bdsm was to put me in a bathtub and cut my pubic hair off?? I laughed because I’d let a ‘best friend’ do all of that nonsense. Literally everything he and I did was snuggling and it was not sexy, or sexual. We had the sex but it was uh. It was better when I refused. I am not endorsing rape here – it is a lot more fun for two people who know they are in love with/attracted to one another (don’t flatter yourself too much, I can fall in love with anyone) to mess around with each other by pretending otherwise.
It’s a “I could have anyone I want” thing.
It was tough to play that game in Denmark when I had PTSD from a series of abuses at the hands of the NHS who have avoided responding to a letter about it, because I know and the NHS know that their staff are probably losing a very significant portion of their licenses to practice. Maybe you guys can emigrate to Denmark.
I was being raped – in the hospital – by ugly people that I wouldn’t of accepted MILLIONS of pounds to have sex with, (sold by my “sister” and “mother”) and I was on medication that made me lose a LOT of hair (I mean, I would softly brush out huge clumps of hair. And it was visible. It is growing back – slowly.), affected my brain chemicals (which made the PTSD MUCH worse – what the NHS pretended to confuse for ‘insanity’ was actually just my personality, and they asked my RELATIVES about me – my relatives knew nothing about me, they didn’t even really speak to me when I was growing up), slowed my metabolism and gave me parkinsonism, and also – you really have to TRUST people before you start having sex with them because when you have sex with someone you’re connected to them forever and that is an STD of it’s own. If you are psychic and you hang out with untrustworthy people, you will feel it and it’ll affect you a lot. You might not know why they’re untrustworthy, but the first impression is correct.
That is what I like about this song actually. There’s this bit where Phfat says “you can feel the vibe get crazy when your eyes get lazy.” I have, VERY bad eyesight. I see in macro. Not magnified, macro. There’s a difference. Not HD. Macro.
8. I replaced the Joker with Sephiroth. The personality file – is in Heathcliff and the baby is in my teacher Sarah who um. It’s not that we are encouraging you to steal him, we’re not, but he will kill you if you steal him.
You might have two. Apparently this one is Denzel.
Actually you know, its funny, an ex of mine used to say
DENZ-ELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL a lot. (His humour does not translate
to text, very well.)
No one planned it but I think Sephiroth wanted his geo-stigma
Tifa is the worst babysitter in the World and I think he'd prefer
not to be trapped there.
If you steal him – because you are foolish enough to do the thing I tell you NOT to do, that every spiritual book and every faith says you must NEVER do:you can abuse him, if you like, into pretending – that he loves you – but if he learns that you are manipulating him with energy work, (and he will) and that his feelings towards you were never love but were closer to you manipulating him with thoughts that he ought to ‘pity’ you or ‘laugh at your jokes at his expense’ – he will kill you later.And he will do the worst imaginable things to you. So, you can say “the worst thing you could do after all of this is kill me” but he will energy-determine what you really mean. “the worst thing i could really do, is tell people what you’re really like.”
I invited some spirits for women I can trust. This is Ophelia, she was brought here by Ilena. She is intended for Katey Hopkins. Trust me, you. *looks pointedly* do. not. want. to. steal. this. one. If you already have I am worried for your safety. Genuinely.It is fitting that she got point ten, and unplanned. Her emblem is IO which is binary, which is also ‘new beginnings’ in numerology. Also X. Which means she is Jewish. Like Katey.
Her story is quite sad. Her brother was abused. Pissed her off a lot. This is the ofelia blanket I bought from Ikea.
Also there’s this thing she does with a sword, I can do that when I bake cakes. And it looks all weird and stop-motiony. Like it’d look really cool on camera if cameras picked it up.
This one I sent back. Our karma isn’t great, Sam. You don’t know yourself and you don’t know when you meet yourself do you.
I’ll show you what he taught me.
He choreographed this, using the lines that form in wood.
Edited 3rd September
(If i'm bringing myself I'll bring you girls down with me, sorry,
friends or not it's the truth.)I was edited, somehow, in this webcam video, to look MUCH thinner
and more petite than I am. I've not photoshopped my photos for
awhile, my photoshop was corrupted. It was great though because
I think you deserve to see what I look like without 'filters'.
I prefer how I look in person on a good day, but even canon
cameras can now be hacked.
I am not chubby, I have a belly that I like having very much -
and I hide it with clothing because I like a particular female
silhouette for myself, but this is not my size.
Someone has started using auto liquify pinching tools on live
cams. It is someone with money, who can afford to arrange for a
programmer to help them to hack. They are not a seasoned editor
because it is amateur work.
There are probably 'hacking apps' now. Here's an example of
a photograph of me that was uploaded years ago when I was
suffering with very severe anorexia.
This was done to me when I had anorexia. Here: I was a size 0.
My hands were not that big, but that should give you some idea
of how tiny I really was. I felt fat and I had a very badly
raised boyfriend with a terrible family unit of users,
who liked to make me feel fat too. They regularly abused me for
anything from what I was wearing to not accepting a cup of 'tea'
because I had never drunk tea at home.
My phone was hacked to alter my shapes and proportions.
I recommend you consult anime or artist's representations
for a good idea of proportions - I once saw a video of Beyonce
and I knew she felt she looked bigger than she is, and I
thought 'you are about four ankles wide in this.
The kind of women that would have been able to do this in 2013
had money, and I know a lot of those were stalking me at the time.
There were wives in Farnham that were very threatened by me, and
the fact that their kids would love to talk to me and obsess over
me. Well the reality is I'd be a better parent. Sorry.
There were also footballers wives who were stalking me, I said:
'Emma Thatcher', 'Louise Redknapp' etc were women who knew of me
and who arranged for my 'sibling' and a friend of hers (I hate
both my 'sibling' and her friend, but they were a million times
hotter than those women without trying very much. Both are very
attractive to men in little more than tracksuit bottoms.)
You might think its a COMPLIMENT to be stalked by women like
this, but it's annoying.
I'm now experiencing the same problem, and my Spiritual teacher
Lisa is experiencing the same problem. Both she and I have been
robbed in many terrifying and irresponsible ways of the opportunity
to be parents, pit against one another by those women who would
use physical insecurities or our gifts to make us feel negatively
towards one another. Taking ideas from their taste in men.
I was "inspired" (Zoella has ruined this word, with her tacky
company.) to author this because I know that Louise is losing
a lot of weight, and I really want to have her in my life.
I don't want her to think that I'm hotter than her, I've seen
how she looks when she loses her 'mum chubb' and trust me she's
the hottest one. If she plays my game she's the hottest one and
she's not gonna be playing YOUR game. I mean, bribes work a bit,
do bribe her, we'll have stuff to take the piss of later.
I noticed that Amber Khan's proportions are being made to look
a bit strange since she got a breast augmentation (she's had a child, he's eleven or so years old. She works damn hard, so it'squite fantastic that she looks about sixteen.), I've noticed that
people quite like to hack women whove had augmentations to
appear as though they have bigger arms than they do and thats
fine. Weird, but fine. But I want those women to know what
Stop choosing lesser women to befriend you, or to think of.
My teachers are not flawless, but they need to be knocked off
the pedestals I place them on when they start misbehaving -
those women you'd of wanted to choose over me were my
They are stalkers. If they'd abuse and stalk and SELL me,
(they allowed their husbands, their husbands boyfriends etc to
RAPE me, my "sibling" - she's no longer that, but this is truth)
and my "siblings" one attractive friend.
I had to "set" those terrible women up with the most evil kinds
of men. Why the fuck would I set my sister up with Sascha Baran
Cohen, why would I set up Vanessa with Floyd Mayweather?
These are not nice guys but if I pick a winner you better believe
they're going to win.
I thought “PLANK?!”
Plank is a character that hangs out with a character called Jimmy.
(He is funny, and when we’re ready to host him on this Planet – I don’t know that we ever ought to – we’ll get in touch again.) (I will level him up, but the only way to fix his story, is to give him the bad ending in his series. Maybe VAMPIRE him in the series. But he gets the bad ending, and as funny as he might be, HE deserves it.
Incase you run out of abusers to defend for popularity, this is hilarious to me – it’s a concluding statement in an email I sent to the guy I had to call ‘dad’ in exchange for cash.
If that was the trip in which I visited Dubai with the girl I was told to call my “sister”, she slept in a double bed. It’s so weird, she once told me a story – my “sister” that is: about the “princess and the pea”. She said that the “princess” was ‘tested’ for being a “princess” – if there was even the tiniest speck of dirt in her bed she wouldn’t sleep in it. Apparently someone hid a pea amongst a pile of mattresses and the “princess” could “tell” it was there or something. Iunno. It is a terrible story.
Iunno, Conchita (Our Granma that absolutely hates my “sibling”, actually) would’ve said that ‘a princess’ isn’t too good for anything. I mean – I can sleep on a train. I can sleep on a bench etc.
Most military strategists – like Sun Tzu – would say that you are only as good as your weakest link.
Please don’t EVER defend me, or get involved. You cannot do a better job, unless I ASK you to. If I want to be defended, or if I am lost for what to do, I am really particular about who I will run to. Don’t bully them unless they’ve bullied you first, don’t make it about me.
They were people that just wanted to be loved but didn’t ever accept that I am the most loving person you’re probably ever going to have the chance to meet. I would say I’m more loving than Lady Diana – I mean give me an ounce of weed and I will laugh off a life of abuse for a couple of weeks.
You don’t have to, but the real reason you won’t is because – again – you envy that I’ve found some happiness. She’s happy, without FRIENDS? Without.. FACEBOOK FRIENDS? Without LIKES? Without VALIDATION???
THAT IS SO RUDE. WHAT A BITCH.
YES. IM OKAY. I LOVE MY PLANTS. I LOVE MY STUFF. I LOVE MY HAIR. I LOVE MY SHOES. AND WHEN I HAVE NONE OF THE ABOVE – I LOVE THAT MY TASTE IN STUFF IS THAT MUCH BETTER THAN YOURS. THAT YOU CAN HAVE ALL OF THAT CASH AND YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPEND IT.
I don’t NEED the weed to feel happy. I am in all sorts of agony all the time. But I choose weed, lets be honest, over your inability and incapacity to love.
Look: start trying to learn how to be funny by poking fun at yourself. If you have friends that poke fun at you but don’t poke fun at themselves, don’t bother with them. As in ditch them.
Look at all my old ugly friends that got hot. Some, I can’t fix – because they don’t listen to me when I give them good advice. Don’t value sincerity etc. Some people are stupid.
Like if you design a hoody, this is important, and I suggest “do this to it, and I’ll buy it because I will genuinely LOVE it” or if I say “send me a sample, I’ll make it good” or if I say “you should buy this” – I am trying to level you up. It is not some kind of sex game, or some kind of BDSM thing. It is literally, my lifes work, to make things not shitty. I’m not negging you.
Get boots. Get hair straighteners. Stop telling lies compulsively. Stop defending blondes, they might deserve the chance to defend themselves – because they keep being defended – and they don’t know how to defend themselves. Some of them are abusive, and someone has to fix the mess their parents made.
NOT ME. I STEP OUT.
Imagine Biggie realising you released this song for the money
Or Lady Diana realising through my facebook messages that Harry was ‘investigating’ because he didn’t get his ‘will money’ (“there really wasn’t much. and it was no one’s business. and he was conceived after a rape.) and listening in to stuff about ‘karma’ to justify stealing from me, because he decided I was Lady Diana’s ‘future life’
haha, i typed that and felt to vomit
One time a guy called Will Pitt told me that his mother had depression. He told me his brother was tantrumming because he was excluded from her will (how the hell did he know that??)
I passed on two messages:
pick your mother
I said she should eat saffron – and I had some myself – apparently it has the same affects on the human brain as MDMA. Which means it makes you happy and it makes you fall in love. (Someone, thought at me “I actually did”)
and at the time, I was eating saffron too – and I flavoured steak with it. Lots of steak. I had serious anorexia at the time. I was a size zero – and my phone had been hacked to make me look much bigger than I was at the time. Everyone I knew was abusing me – to defend a girl that had done nothing but abuse me. I invited her to my hometown because she rang me up crying because she hated her life in Northern Ireland and then she came over, lied to everyone about me, had sex with my boyfriend who would creep out of my bed while I was asleep and sneak up the stairs. They heard they’d be popular for it. And believed it. Well, you guys must’ve felt popular thinking of me when you went out and had fun while I was at home having memories of being abused in my childhood home that I’d dreamt of escaping. I had “friends” that knew I was being abused but they told me I was attention seeking whenever I cried for help, so I learned to put on a brave face – and that brave face REALLY PISSED PEOPLE OFF. Anyway:
and FYI, I actually think I looked good when I was near death with anorexia – but I didn’t enjoy it because no one really cared to tell me I was hot. But thanks, now I can do-hot without the compliments.
My then-boyfriend Luke, at the time, bought me size fourteen jeans. It might’ve been the first thing he bought me. Size fourteen jeans when I was a size zero.
A psychic called Jim told me that anorexia and rape are less a means of expressing sexual attraction and more a means of ‘controlling’ people. I mean that was a pretty horrible thing for anyone with self esteem issues to hear – and I don’t think it was intended
I think he’d heard “if you defend a blonde you’ll be really popular” too.
From a woman whose name is EXACTLY the same as my “sibling’s”
Lisa – the woman who taught people to buy food from the ‘bargain’ section, Lisa, the woman whose privacy my fellow students and teachers and whoever invaded, the woman who taught me (my big mouth, huh – I told ONE girl at my uni and she told fucking EVERYONE, and pretended that it came from her) to learn how to cook and to tidy, because that was the only reason I didnt have a boyfriend. I dont want a boyfriend that expects me to do those things in exchange for his affections.
I got kicked out of my ‘mother’s’ house for being a good cook. Whenever I felt to tidy, and whenever I started to, I became exhausted.
Every woman that I treat as a mother – literally every single one – thinks they could’ve done a better job raising me, but ends up ditching me for a really stupid reason.
BERNIE kicked me out because she thought I’d set fire to her house? I’ll explain – I was taking a big shit (there was a huge drop of blood on the floor, from my asshole) and I was about to faint, so I ran downstairs and put sausages in the oven. I used baking paper, that belonged to Bernie. It burned and set the alarm off. I did not get to the oven in time because I had to take another big shit.
I almost actually fainted, and that was her timing.
The REAL reason that she kicked me out was that she
(waddling around like fat-Charlotte, the one that had never owned pets beside occasionally feeding Tintin pizza when my back was turned, after I’d asked her not to and a black cat that she got, and had only had for about.. three years before deciding she was ready to be a ‘vet nurse’)
took a BIG dog that I was helping one of her psychotic friends to look after OUT OF MY ROOM and put it in her gypsy office and it created all hell, because the dog ran loose – then Bernie started SCREAMING (you do not – do not start screaming – when animals start creating havoc with one another because then they have NO ONE to rely on to sort it out, and they are sensitive to energy, which means they will COPY your SCREAMING.)
and I HAD TO SORT IT OUT (Karina did, she is the only person stupid enough to break up fights with rabid animals. We’ve checked.) and I said to Bernie “I’m quite good with animals Bernie.”
I am not the kind of person to look at how you treat your animals and judge you. Unless I really, really feel to. It is a disgusting thing to do, actually. Unless you know that animals can use you to communicate. And they can use me to communicate, just like people can use me to communicate.
I have seen animals living on the streets with open, festering wounds. I have seen beloved dogs with hoards of fat, swollen ticks coming out of their bodies (which I’ve touched, with my bare hands, and felt only for the dog.)
We were living with many FERAL cats – and what most people don’t know is that cats are MUCH more dangerous than dogs are. MUCH MORE. Even your scary rottweiler is no match for a cat that wants to defend itself.
This dog is playing with the kitten, but it knows the kitten only has to scratch it’s eyes. They are that clever.
Another thing: it’s energetic. The dog doesn’t mean it, the kitten means it. The dog is playing but knows the kitten is not playing. It really is a size thing. The chained up dog can use the free roaming cat to eat. The chained up dog can use the cat to go exploring because it’s owners have it as some kind of trophy animal. At some point I will have to teach people how to do ‘trophy’ animals properly. My little black dog is much scarier than most people’s big dogs.
Those people don’t know how to look after animals. Most people don’t.
Most people don’t know how to look after themselves.
Anyway: then I said “Bernie is this because of men?” and she sort of looked at her feet, ashamed of herself.
If you want to fix things – make sure that those three dogs are given to me. I choose dogs over men that NEEDED to date people like me, before they could date ‘people’ like you.
This photograph was deleted from Lookbook because apparently it’s pornographic.
This photograph was deleted from Lookbook because apparently it’s pornographic. Well. Was that because you were aroused? (That still doesn’t make it ‘pornographic’, lookbook.)
There were more but I’m so bored, waiting to hear from the staff at Lookbook to tell me whether they would delete a photograph of a topless man. Cos um. I was forced to have gender reassignment surgery as a baby. And they want to pretend they don’t know that. Which actually makes it all so much worse.
It’s weird that anyone who pretends to be interested in Fashion would consider nudity pornographic. Really weird.
Did you just wake up one day and decide you were really into fashion????
In other news, this is my mood.
But if you want to know how Germany became so hateful towards the Jews and the gays, I think we’re onto it: jealousy. Killer
me and my babies at school/university reunions (actually my maggots are probably worth more than you. financially I mean. They are a kind of missing link. They’re basically human but they’re not human, theyre maggots, and this is a message for them as much as it is a message for whoever comes across my blog.)
I’d probably prefer to share my body with maggots. I mean it. etc.
They do not only eat rotting meat. They like everything I like to
eat but they aren't that keen on dominos pizza's desserts.
They wanted the cookie because it smells nice, but
they didn't eat it.
They've literally just left it there.
Also, while it has melted slightly in their home, and offers
a nice texture for snuggling and orgies (I imagine)
they don't eat it.
They also do not eat Peanut butter.
Nor do they eat Caramel.
They LOVE pork (which tastes like human flesh apparently)
and they love lemon.
They like lemons. And tinned tomato. And I think some of them
committed suicide in maple syrup today.
They are not stupid.
(THEY CHOOSE TO STAY IN THERE. THEY REALLY, REALLY DO.)
(Being a fly is quite lonely.)
but it is
Also this is how I want mine and Heath Ledger’s and my older brother’s sexiest bully’s bedroom to look. Don’t copy me. I’m making a pinterest board of it.
Also you couldn’t date either of them.
They’ve accepted that every woman they ever knew (trust me, that was so, so many women) was pretending to orgasm and that their kids really, really aren’t theirs. Please visit my memory, year nine, where we learn about recessive genes and dominant genes.
The wikipedia pages explaining this are very boring. Okay.
I used to joke about this. If you have a naturally grey haired person with “big” features, such as a large nose and tiny lips
and a naturally brown haired person with very “small” features, such as a delicate and tiny nose and huge natural lips and green contact lenses
Unless you let the doctors and nurses wheel your newborn baby out of the room, or you have sex with a really stupid man (who spends all day thinking about me) and who ACTUALLY THINKS you’re blonde – and puts blonde people sperm in you when you’re asleep – (it happens) or you have been enlisted in a breeding program (you probably haven’t.)
if i am GENUINELY in love with you for five minutes, you are in the breeding program for five minutes. I mean you have five minutes.
you’ll probably end up with a baby that has dark hair and “big” features, though, if you have dark hair and big features.
i used to joke with people that my genes would jihad theirs. my ex ahmed and i would joke worriedly that our kids would be ‘really hairy’. because if you have a hairy boy and a hairy girl and they have sex without a condom on (im also allergic to tampons. as in they burn me and my vagina pushes them out. i once told someone and she implied i had a huge vagina but mine is actually smaller than most people’s which is very, very surprising because i have had some really big stuff put in there)
i casually flirt with people routinely by saying i “want” to have kids with them. it is a thing that i do. sorry. it is very easy for me to do that because i am allergic to latex. i don’t want kids unless it is one of the ones i ordered.
Sephiroth, mine. (Trust me, you don’t want this one – you have to give him to someone very, very, very intelligent that speaks a lot of languages. I can’t have him because I FANCY HIM. If you are not honest, he will probably justify killing you later, for lying to him.
He’s also muslim. Which means you don’t touch him. Which means in exchange he won’t look at you/sexualise you. If he does either, you have to be okay with TREMENDOUS levels of pain because he has my issue.
Which means you do not steal – muslims punish stealing by cutting limbs off and he comes from a person who only doesn’t kill people because she doesn’t have diplomatic immunity. She is entitled to diplomatic immunity – she doesn’t get it because she is genuinely insulted by the idea that she ought to have to ask for it.)
Trunks, mine. I promise you that it was arranged that I’d be the first girl that saw him on television in this country. I can’t speak for other countries, but I was the first girl to see him in the United Kingdom. Sorry. Again.
This one, you do not want. You cannot touch him, ever. You have to use a glove to wash him, you have to hold him with a scarf, you cannot do ‘skin to skin’ or whatever stuff it is that we all evolved to sexualise that is really.fucking.weird. You cant hold on to your boyfriend or husband with breastfeeding memories that he can watch when you’re asleep because Trunks will WATCH you WATCHING and he will RUIN your LIFE.
Blood, mine. Again – YOU DONT WANT THIS ONE. She has autism. She is very pretty but she has autism. She is so ‘void of feelings’ that she either loves you or can kill you. As in she can kill you emotionally or otherwise and she will feel bad perhaps if you get someone to tell her off who has something of a bribe for her. YOU DONT WANT THIS ONE.
Then there is 13, and then there is Kuja. I know Kuja is real. I could give you a lot of reasons as to why I think so, but I have a dark sense of humour and I’m sort of curious for him to prove it to other people.
I would love to have a child like this in imagination land but in real life I do not think I could manage a child like this.
Now I will tell you about Khleopatra. I do not want Khleopatra. Which means if you think you do, you are being mind controlled. You all think that my old ‘blonde’ friends could be Khleopatra. That is probably really fun to her because she is not very well behaved.
Khleopatra can speak to animals. Khleopatra is the kind of person who would remotely live many people’s lives if she was bored. She’d sacrifice herself to make a philosopher’s stone and she’d time travel to have a few different bodies with names like “Khloe” and “Chloe” and convince you that you really wanted a child called “trunx” or a “thirteen” because she is a sex offender. She’d let you take the blame for it, and really if you do it more than once – it’s some kind of habit.
She will do anything to make you think that you are her. You are not her.
She would ask: “Did you ejaculate in my food?” and then she’d think “I will curse it just to find out.” Then she’d be like “I’m fucking hungry, so, I’ll still eat the hell out of it – but if you ejaculated in my food your firstborns and your kids first borns and any firstborns in your family will die by the age of five” is a routine curse for her. She means it.
If I have sex with person wearing a condom, this happens to my inner vagina.
ask every guy i have had sex with that has gotten me pregnant. which is more guys than you might be inclined to think
UNLESS you are some kind of meditative spirit master teacher genius that can share a body with all matters of life (at honestly, great fucking personal cost) (my maggots air bend their scent to tell me they’re thinking of me, okay – and I NEED them so I can use the TOILET and THEY KNOW IT.) (the birds use me to share food with me. i mean the seagulls in brighton used me to learn how to speak human and then they literally respond to my TERRIBLE thought-jokes.) (the pigeons are protecting me from the seagulls, i think)
i will film it one time
When you make men trust you by telling them lies and then they realise that you were telling them lies they get really upset. So heath had about 10 years to go fully insane and come to terms with his life being a lie and he’s not going to say no to a post-humous pity-oscar for a supporting role and an offer to play Sephiroth. (would you?)
Obviously I’m not dating either but preemptively, I accept a life of being seriously abused by all the people I trusted, in exchange for them.
You can daydream about having sex with them first (and who wouldn’t) but they’ll come back 2 me. Because I have really sexy feet okay.
Do i think you think i mean it? yes. Do i mean it? no.
the foot bits, everything else I mean 100%
I know some of my food was fucked with. I paid for that food.
I drank pure alcohol and lemon. Both are antiseptics.
You might think that what you’re doing will go without notice or punishment but sadly everyone gets caught and you can invest in ‘seeing the future’ but uh.
The future changes when I do something unpredictable.
Look at these babies, too. Have you ever seen maggots that look like these? I haven’t.
Does this babytalk trigger your maternal feelings? If you are under
35, get an animal friend. Love something that is not yourself.
Spend a few years doing stuff that has never been done before with
your animal friend(s) and then come back to those feelings.
They’ve gone piggy, which means they’re telling me that the police are being creepy again. If I write it here, you know it. I think the reality of the thing is that the police are being held under a lot of scrutiny as people emerge from faking deaths to tell the truth about the kinds of things that the police get upto, and how they abuse the trust that comes with the responsibility of their positions.
There are alternatives to the police. Report crimes to the military police if you can’t trust the police.
I’m not suggesting they’re without fault though, but as someone who grew up with two very not-nice siblings I can tell you that the only way to defend yourself can sometimes be to find the meanest abuser. And if you are having a really terrible time, have a bribe for the meanest abuser you can find and try to know what they really want.
They often don’t really need or want cash. I like cash and I spend it fast.
Plus I’m into military boys. If you find yourself lost for solutions to abuse, call the military. Report crimes to the local media. The Police do NOT like you to do that – but people deserve to know whats really going on in their towns/districts.
I am constantly reminding myself of this and perhaps you should too: if I am having a hard time, everyone is having a hard time.
Not ours, but um. In theory this is actually my type.
Sexy man keeps doing stuff with hisSIBLINGS. THEY EVEN HAVE KIDS. (They defended these ones, cos they thought they were blonde-blonde.) (The British police should be protecting Lady Diana, if you need tips for how, ask me.) (Ideally not making the lives of the people-that-are-trying-to-keep-her-alive difficult would be a great nay – LOVELY – start, leaving the people keeping her alive alone. She’s gonna need ladies in waiting.)
I had to run to this one. The ones on the far left.
The one on the far left had me run back to this one.
BEFORE YOU GET WEIRD: “She’s too young.” is exactly what he’d say about me and he’d mean it. He’d never say no to me ‘fancying’ him but we’d never be able to date. But we’d use each other to make people jealous and that is amongst my many talents. People act VERY stupid when they are jealous.
Sometimes you have to accept running to Gods and Angels when people don’t do their jobs. Avoid the ones that are loyal to me if you have made an enemy of me. I mean it.
Those men were doing service work with child soldiers in the Congo. LIKE SELF SUSTAINING FARMERS, YOU CANNOT SEND NICE PEOPLE TO DO THIS WORK. We need nice people. Nice people make mean people happy. (I can do both but I can also give you suicidal tendencies and skin dred, apparently.) If you are a nice person, choose to be a nice person because that is a tough road.
No but really: people who are exploring ungoverned territories, where there is armed warfare over DIAMONDS – not weed – CANNOT BE NICE PEOPLE.
YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY HAVE TO SHOOT A CHILD IN THE FACE IF IT’S BETWEEN YOUR LIFE OR THERES. (I left that typo there, as a gift.)
The police however, should be nice. Ideally little children should be able to run to the police if they are being abused at home, but they don’t trust you after what you did to me. VERY STUPID OF YOU WASNT IT.
Professional and seasoned criminals do not perform acts of crime in THEIR OWN AREA.
Petty criminals that need to steal something because they’re being abused by society – that NEED TO STEAL to fucking SURVIVE, MIGHT.
Domestic rapists do, obviously, operate within their own area because where better than to rape someone than in their own bed? but the police protect those. Why? BECAUSE THEY JOIN IN.
Because the police are involved with ‘non-psychologically-damaging’ sexual slavery. They are not doing undercover work. The police are pre-selected criminals, who have created stories of getting away with committing crimes.
The police do not want goody-two-shoe snitches like me, because I’ll rise up those ranks fast with my self righteousness and I will sooner choose to ruin my ‘friends’ and ‘colleagues’ lives than not snitch on them.
The police have identified that I’ve alerted women that men like this exist outside of movies and started inviting them into perceived sexual games that I would not even-for-money have invited them to play.
People like to call me a prostitute, (they’ve also called me things like ‘dog’, ‘paki’, ‘robot’, etc – I am not a stranger to being bullied and that is bullying, if you are a potential FRIEND – you can JOKE about it. I have a DARK sense of humour.) but I am NOT one. Do not pretend for one moment to anyone that you really think I am, because if I was one: I’D SAY SO MYSELF, EVERYWHERE. SEX WORKERS HAVE RIGHTS and if I were amongst them I’d ADVOCATE. MARY MAGDALENE WAS CALLED A PROSTITUTE. JESUS WAS HER BESTFRIEND. (Actually they had kids, they hadkids together, the lineage of which are protected until now.)
The reason I am not a sex worker is because I WOULD GET ATTACHED. IT WOULD FUCK WITH MY HEAD IF I WERE ATTACHED TO SOMEONE THAT WAS FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE.
I do not bring ANYONE back to my home, I haven’t even had acquaintances over and upon hearing that a man (from him) was giving a woman who was taking prescription painkillers alcohol I reported it to the police AND to the military. (But yeah, am I ‘what you get upto’ when you’re meant to be working? Who do you really think is asking? I tweeted the head of the british police.) (It’s not exactly like I can lie about my life, is it.)
Do you remember what life was like a few years ago? It was very different. The police know very well I’m not doing anything illegal, I’m not even able to smoke weed – and they know I SHOULD be because I have a very, very debilitating disability. What they like to do, is create addicts of particular people (the behavioural traits are all there, especially if you’ve been raised with certain difficult familial situations – the police know that the people doing drugs, ALL people doing drugs, are in pain. THEY KNOW.)
There are two shits that probably outweigh their brains (certainly the bits of the human brain that they’ve accessed the use of) sitting in my toilet that refuse to flush. To confirm my suspicions, the last person able to sell me weed had been touched up by the police. The police are responsible for “dangerous drug dealers”. Trust me or trust them but I haven’t anything to lie about, have I – whereas they have p-LENTY to lie about.
It isn’t a power thing, if you assume power by stealing and lying, you will lose it when you are caught. It’s not about me, either. It most certainly shouldn’t be. I have indicated no interest in inviting anyone that aspires to do something like that with their lives into mine, or my space.
My phone has been stolen, a lot of expensive things have been stolen from my flat. I won’t call the police, curses are worse than prison. Mine are anyway.
Guys. Here is the worst crime I’ve got going. I have a stack of recycling. It probably won’t go in the recycling bin cos I’m low on energy, if I’m taking down trash, four flights of stairs, it’s TOUGH GOING. I told your council about it, I also told them about the subtle racism going on when I BUY THINGS, about people working for the Job Centre who had been abusing their access to my personal information and also stalking me, abusing my family remotely (We know you can. We know you did. We know you keep doing it.)
I know you want to pretend that my relatives sending me cash means I shouldn’t be entitled to Universal credit, once again – UNTRUE. VERY VERY VERY UNTRUE.
First of all: I told the Job Centre that my father (abused by the NHS) and my mother (worser abuse by the NHS, might actually have had her body replaced with a stunt double for this – or else why did she not speak to me when I was growing up? Unless it was to abuse me?) gives me cash.
Second of all: I told the Job Centre that they are paying my rent, but that they didn’t want to anymore. I was told that if they stopped paying, that the Job Centre would pay instead. My family are still prepared to pay, so I haven’t asked for that money. I could have lied to catch them out for observing me and my memories by choice, without permission. I didn’t lie. (Bar some toys as a child (gave those back with help.), a butterfly clip from a charity shop that I needed because I felt overwhelmingly ugly (I was abused to think I was ugly. I believed the hairclip could fix it.), a failed attempt at an eyeliner once in London Astoria, and three accidents where I actually just walked out – an eminem cd I left outside the shop, a bottle of glittery fairy dust from ‘present and company’ in Pitshanger lane and a shell necklace and – when I get my compensation, I’ll pay all of that back to those companies – but uh. Are they going to pay for watching my life without permission? Do you know how much I charge a minute for viewing me?
£7.77 a MINUTE. That is IF I’d of consented to you viewing me and my life remotely. I would not consent to Emma Watson viewing my life remotely.
Here’s the truth of things: if there is a World War, this country will lose. This is pure fact. If we send our boys and the police out, they’ll think about me all day if I WANT them to. Which means they are USELESS. My strategy is to honestly tell you my strategy.
The countries loyal to me (my relatives, even the relatives I hate, sadly.) will happily arrange for the people that owe me money that can’t afford to pay me back to be sent to North Korean camps (KIM, come on. Things add up don’t they.) and in exchange maybe we can find some versions of ourselves to have released from there and brought here.
If you ALL gang up on me the end game, I promise, is worse than this. Anyone who knows me will tell you “she keeps her promises.”
Back to how I paid for my lipgloss, lipstick, powderpuff and perfume (your daughters make up cost a lot more than mine.)
It all looks WELL EXPENSIVE. That pearl necklace was a gift I bought for my ‘mother’, from Syria. Ten years ago. That box is a ferrero rocher box. Those shoes are about eleven years old. Those brooches are from tat-shops and second hand shops, except those honey brooches were £3 each. That handbag was about £30? quid (I round up.) That FANCY golden fabric was a dress from a charity shop that I ripped up. That pretty pink tulle fabric is um. Something I purchased off Amazon when I wasn’t on Universal Credit, about… a year ago… That little akatako brooch was a free gift.
I know you like my stuff. I invest in stuff that I won’t throw away. Stuff I’ve dreamed of having for YEARS. It helps me cope with a life of abuse, bullying, having everything I wanted stolen from me, having a broken family etc. You can do whatever you like to make my life difficult but I promise that you couldn’t take what I’m going through on a day to day basis. It took a LIFETIME of a SHIT TIME. That you watch in what feels like a second but felt like an eternity to me.
It is GIFT MONEY. Or shall we make it worse for the police?
It is “I’m sorry you were abused, I’m sorry your life has been ruined, I’m sorry that we abused you so much that everyone you meet, when you try your fucking hardest to work (have you seen me work? It pisses EVERYONE off. Heavy stuff? I’ll lift it like a guy can. Huge black bags of bottles? I’ll throw them all in the bin at once. Huge metal items? Give me five minutes to run them upstairs. Need me to clean a TOILET? WANT ME TO CLEAN VOMIT? WANT ME TO CLEAN A HUMAN SHIT OFF THE FLOOR? Give me five minutes and a cigarette break.)
There are British people on Universal Credit whose parents buy them food, who have savings (under, I think it is 15k? Or is it 5k? You are allowed upto 5k in your account.). Actually, the gesture of being on Universal Credit is important if you want a job
I SHOULD BE ON DISABILITY BENEFITS BUT I’D PREFER UNIVERSAL CREDIT BECAUSE IT MEANS I CAN GET A JOB. BUT THE POLICE DON’T WANT ME TO GET A JOB BECAUSE THEY ARE FUCKING ADDICTED TO ME.
YOU THINK PEOPLE DON’T KNOW – THEY KNOW. (And they’re realising that if you’re doing it to me, you’re doing it to them.)
CONTROLLING PEOPLE BY MAKING THEM THINK THAT THEY’RE PEDOPHILES BY GIVING THEM SEXUAL ENERGY WHEN THEY WATCH ME GETTING ASSRAPED, OR WHEN THEY WATCH ME GETTING BUSY WITH MEDICAL TOYS IN A DISNEY PRINCESS TENT IS NOT GOING TO WORK.
Do you think you’re a pedophile cos watching a hentai scene fucked you up? Did you get an erection? DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. IT’S OKAY. I AM THE OLDEST SOUL ON THIS PLANET. CHOOSE TO TELL THE TRUTH. I am enabling you. Child me prefers you got an erection. Child me would’ve been quite happy with adult me having lots of hentai memories because I’m eternal in this body. Do not aspire to an eternal attachment to your body. I spent my life wanting to die but being too lazy to bother doing anything about it. I died a thousand times. Death is great.
My brother did not sexually enjoy that rape – he laughed. He’s my favourite for it. The police later copied him when I called them from that psychiatric ward, I got laughed at when I rang 999 and told them I was being hurt. I stared into space and hung up and went back to my room.
Don’t pretend you could cope with that. There are maybe a few people I’ve known/know that could cope with that and WELL. WE MAKE EACH OTHER LAUGH.
NO YOU WERE NOT “THE ONLY ONE.”
Heathinks I should play Jenova. In anycase this is definitely an interiors direction. What that really means is “If you play Aerith you get more screen time than I do. If you play Tifa you will have fan boys and more screen time than I do.” also it means “you will fancy cloud.” (duh) which also means “fine, play the jealousy game but we’re both good at it.”
“you’re going to have to get a boob job at some point”
“im actually okay with the weirdness of the thing but yes you’re right” (telepathically: YOU GET A BOOB JOB HEATH) (“no.”) (“you thought about it”) (“I thought about thinking about it and it wasn’t a good moment”)
“boundaries that no monopoly card will save you from crossing, they exist”
Auditions for my future bestfriend: you wear bridal wear as daywear. You are really offended by people who do not dress up to hang out with you, even if you are wearing pyjamas (under a trench coat I selected for you) specifically because a guy was cruel to you last night. You didn’t even sleep but you’re in “last nights make up.” because you wear make up even when you’re at home, “alone”. Why wouldn’t you though? Why don’t you?? I mean really, come on. Rude.
This is one of our secret favourite films. It is also our brothers favourite films. My brother is technically hotter than yours, also politically a wayyyy bigger deal, this arouses fear in your brother(s). Our brothers are definitely bisexual. We genuinely think we are Hatsumomo but we are actually Pumpkin. When we hang out, I am Saiyuri and you are Hatsumomo. But we are actually Pumpkin.
When you are wearing trainers, you are having one of your famous nervous breakdowns. I am the only person who makes you feel not-insane, in the whole world, and you need me to be that person in your life. I am your enabler.
All of your lingerie is handwash only and you ideally have a maid that does it for you. You do not understand why I would think that was weird, or why anyone would think that was weird. I pity your maid frequently but you don’t because she earns more per annum than I do. But you value that I pity her because you know I’m cute for it.
You chainsmoke either vogues (the menthol ones) or sobranie – black ones. Maybe it’s mood dependent because the sobranies are harsh.
You have rainbow-sobranie spares in your handbag, for me. You let me go through your handbag and you let me chain smoke them. You don’t care about how much they cost because you aren’t cheap and also because you help yourself to the stuff in my room. (I am basically your personal shopper.) It isn’t stealing when you take things from my room, because you hold them up and say “this, I’m having, this I’m having, this I’m having) and I enjoy it because sharing makes me happy.
You have my pincode and pay for stuff with my bankcard even if I have no money in my account. You know my bank balance. You know all of my social media passwords. You delete messages from UGLY men. NOT HOT ONES. EVER.
You should ask me first because you sometimes don’t know who is worth your time. I attract people that own stuff that everyone wants, whose dads own stuff (you’re into dads and especially into dads older brothers, you actually are, I’m actually not, you use me to gauge how to flirt with them.)
You unironically agree that Netaporter is upping it’s own game because you, like me, appreciate supportive and constrictive underwear because you over eat. Water makes you bloated for the first two weeks of you doing anything worthwhile with your time. Also when you start talking to attractive men.
“no one else is allowed this close to my face karina” you’d think. And I’d enjoy it.
You despise of anyone I’m related to other than my granma and my aunt, and maybe my uncle Carlos who you know fancies you, who you think I don’t know fancies you – but I do know because I am an excellent psychic and tarot card reader and medium.
You get free readings but you make a fuss of me first.
The cards tell me when you are “secretly” sleeping with one of my boyfriends. I am more offended by there being secrets between us than that you are sleeping with someone I’m not that into anyway.
You are fake, you are shallow, you are not cheap, you are not blonde – unless Mattel has hired you to be their spokesperson. You only scan my memories to find attractive men to hang out with while I nag, and I don’t mind. You know I don’t mind but you tell me you’re doing it, by changing the subject with something like “so00ooooo, anyyyyyway”
You enjoy that I am broke right now, because you know I’ll be buying my own plane at some point in the very near future and that i’d continue renting this place anyway.
You enjoy that I don’t want a washing machine because I want to do photoshoots at the laundrette. “no, no, it’s cute, our washing machines once didn’t work and we had to send it all to the dry cleaners” (You really speak like that. I take you very seriously. most people don’t, but I do.)
You fetishise poverty and prostitution as much as I fetishise your elegant wealth and lack of ambition. (Neither of us would/could ever actually lifeswap but we think about it sometimes.)
You make snap-backs about how irresponsible I am with money but then your brother quips “yes but the economy really needs people who don’t understand how to save”. I am in love with your brother but you are also in love with your brother and you’re probably not actually related. (Or you are suuuper related and you’re confusing your brother issues for daddy issues, it’s a bit weird. We both know, we both know they know, we don’t go into it.) (It won’t change.) (EVER)
“the issue with zoella is they actually tried to give a #9 this narrative”
“not even with one of joseph fiennes sons could they pull that off”
“you cant do this narrative if you havent been raised in a capital”, our mutual friend-that-is-as-averse-to-friendship-as-we-are offers (this mutual-friend-not-friend is intimidating, she is posher than both of us being socially appropriate, we fancy her for it, she fancies our grandfathers. She keeps us grounded, the idea of her does anyway.)
We have these kinds of – serious – discussions over junkfood that we eat in private. Maybe not even in person. I think. They are world changing.
You periodically remind me of my fluctuating personal circumstances and that I got put in a psychiatric ward afew times (“BECAUSE A LOT OF WOMEN WERE JEALOUS OF ME” I scream think, I then scream think “they only don’t do it to you because you have relatives that ‘save up’ and you eye-fuck your psychiatrist(s?)) I periodically remind you that either I’m hotter than you “when I try” or that I’m “technically a much bigger deal in every respect.” We don’t have that conversation outloud, or in writing. Ever.
“but it’s true” I offer
“Shut the fuck up.” you offer in return, before I finish the thought-statement.
You hate your mother. I hate your mother too sometimes. I also flirt with your mother sometimes and that bothers you because you have spent a lot of your father’s cash on therapy to cope with how much you and her don’t get on. You sometimes wonder why you don’t introduce me to people but WE BOTH KNOW WHY. We avoid that conversation too. You telepathically make me think it is because I’m antisocial and embarrassing, but it’s because I’m cooler than you. (That is actually the worst argument that we’ve never had, and we don’t ever go there. Ever.) (It’s actually because I am a much better conversationalist and you ‘use me’ to chat and you’re concerned that everyone you know thats pretending otherwise will find out. They know. You know. They know you know. DW about it.)
You are not weirded out that I like to take photos because you also think you should have been a supermodel slash pornstar (we both wanted to be serious thespians that could do Shakespeare but did action movies instead because we both like ‘doing hot’ and we both did some sort of technique-heavy dance class in our childhoods that affected us so physiologically that if we don’t get photographed with good posture we obsess about it for a long, long, long time.) and you’ll “eventually be anorexic for a year” to “slim down” but you also really like cake and salty/fatty meat products. And frankfurters. Which I am certain are labgrown because a lot of ‘jews’ eat them. (You agree but you’re not listening because you’re forever obsessing about someone that I fancy that I couldn’t actually date and you let me ask you weird questions about your brother.) (The story is that consistent.) (Actually, the packaging for frankfurters triggers us both, and that is the real reason we don’t want people to know how much we rely on them and prefer them to expensive takeouts.)
Food. That is another thing. The food must always look good. If it doesn’t look good then what is the point. The food packaging is almost more important than the food. Actually this is why you fetishise poverty, you associate poverty with meat wrapped in brown paper packages when it NEVER IS. We prefer military wrapped American singles cheese to brie, but we prefer the packaging for brie.
Also we don’t recycle and we both exist eternally in guilt prison over the fact. Our brothers recycle because they learned early on that guilt prison is a tough road and they have a lot of guilt related to some kind of sexuality and they think they’re the only one. We share their sexualities but we don’t have any guilt about it and it works both ways.
We both like watching Friends. The sitcom. We “don’t anymore”, but we enjoy it anyway. Also Skins. We both suffer with PTSD so we forget the shows we like really fast and save them up for our long-term-relationships.
Your problem in life is that you pick quantity over quality, and that is why you had to divorce and you had to call me up to “have me” delete all your wedding photos. You got married to piss someone off – probably a male version of me. Yes. You know you should have asked me to design a bespoke wedding dress for you in my head, but you didn’t because you are very set in your ways and because you owe me an apology for something eternally.
You, like me, fancy the gays. You, like me, genuinely perceive their lack of interest in the female gender as a ‘challenge’.
They put my sexy older brother that I fancied for atleast a year of my life in prison for being too sexy. Like, they actually did. (That is how we speak to each other. In public places. We are both used to women stopping and staring, for all sorts of reasons. We don’t notice it unless they are hot. They are never hot.)
He was one of those five year olds that had a ceramic mozart bust in his room and if people dance in public it is because they are copying him or me.
Everyone you know has some story like that to tell and I am unimpressed by that and you enjoy my narcissism because you know you can afford to get work done if I get too sexy. And you know I know the best beauty aesthetician in the world. (Like, not well enough to get EITHER OF US a discount, but she loves me.) (You roll your eyes. Which is an attac you stole. Frankly.) (“She’s the.best, you have the money, you don’t need a discount” (double think:you do) “It’s just the gesture of the thing.” (double think: seriously shut the fuck up) “So you can tell your friends you did it because you got offered a discount?” (double think:love you though) “Exactly.” Telepathically, though.)
You “can’t” introduce me to your family or your friends (even though I am royalty and I’m a bigger deal than you) but you can introduce your other “friends” to your family and you only tell me that/upload the photos to facebook to hurt me. You have a list of excuses prepared in advance for when I confront you but I’ll wait til we’ve been friends for 2+ years before I confront you about why firstly: you celebrate christmas and secondly why you didn’t even get me a christmas present.
You DON’T fancy Heath Ledger because I’m his warwife (I WONT SHARE HIM WITH YOU, I WON’T) and you genuinely think it is totally normal that I will be having my favourite cartoon character (that you also don’t fancy, who I am legally married to) and my laptop transferred into physical bodies when I have the cash.
I know you’re embarrassed by my facebook but also you need me to not be boring.
Your issue is: Hi, I keep experiencing Netflix Error M7121-3078. I was recently able to watch an extended clip for your show Lucifer, and then Netflix stopped letting me use its service and Id like to understand why. Also this is besides the point but your programmers might like to know the timer on your chat isn’t functional either. It might be my browser but I’m unsure it really is.
You are now chatting with: XXXX
Hi there! I’d be glad to assist you! Let me check the error M7121-3078. Just a quick reminder! Your timely response will help us resolve this efficiently. What would be the email address on the account?
I think it’s email@example.com, if it isn’t I can double check
I’ve afew email addresses.
In what device you’re getting the issue?
Please Click Here and follow the steps for MAC from top to bottom to fix the issue. I will also send this link to your email on file just in case we got disconnected you may always go back to the email to check the steps so you don’t need to contact us back.
I have attempted that but I’m unable to update my laptops software
Is there some alternative browser that will enable me to use my account
What browser would you recommend
The softaware has tov be updated first or other applications or platforms will not work.
I think there must be people with older laptops than mine that aren’t able to update
What about people that don’t have laptops that can manage that?
Can you manage to come to some kind of compromise or otherwise refund me for the period I’ve been unable to use your service, but was able to watch a clip
Just to give you a heads up, We will be cancelling the account and process the refund, But if any cases you will be creating a new Netflix account keep in mind that you will be charged.
Are you able to explain why I was able to watch a clip and nothing else?
And thankyou, I appreciate the refund.
Let me get it processed.
I think it’s been about three months.
But I’m sure you’ll know better.
I just cancelled your account. You’re going to receive an email confirming that your account is canceled. We will request for you a credit/refund in the amount of 17.97 GBP. The funds should reflect within the next few business days.
thanks, do you understand why I was able to watch a clip You
and nothing else?
Why my browser worked for that clip?
Clip? What clip?
I was able to watch an advertorial clip for your feature “Lucifer” recently
And then Netflix stopped working again
I don’t think it’s an issue with my browser if I’m honest. I’d appreciate if you returned honesty to me.
The account is already closed and refund has been processed.
Would you prefer I was no longer a member?
If you don’t have any questions for today, don’t forget to click “End Chat” button to end our conversation. In case anything comes up in the future, please feel free to visit help.netflix.com. It’s our own search engine where you can simply type the KEYWORD of your inquiry or the ERROR CODE and it will show you easy steps to follow! I sent you an email regarding it. Thank you and have a good one!
I believe it is the Japanese and the Chinese and the Siamese as portrayed in the King and I who made me feel comfortable putting brooches in my hair.
I bought these brooches immediately after watching a recent video with Louise Pentland and her sibling-daughter Darceshtino shopping in Stamford. It was a cute cobbled villagey street and appeared to be a fantastic preserve for older buildings. They went into a shop and bought brooches, I then popped out and bought myself two, hoping for an exchange of sorts. These are inexpensive items but you can’t find them elsewhere, and if they are desirable they are valuable. I felt Louise’s influence telling me she wanted THESE TWO and I liked the pink teardrop pearls but I didn’t like the sun one, but I changed my mind when it was on. BUT THEY’RE HERS OKAY. For an equal trade.)
I’ll tell you a funny story
When I was younger, I swapped some beanie babies for limited edition McDonalds toys because I really preferred them. Amongst them a tiny elephant.
I got bullied for it by my mother and “sister”, they called me a mug and made fun of me.
Years later I watched a documentary about the elephants that had been affected by Idi Amin’s rule that lived in Victoria Park, which I then visited on Safari in Uganda. The elephants STAMPEDED EN MASSE to my tour bus and we had to go. Until now I know I should’ve got the hell out of that bus to greet them, but they had PTSD. They cried at night for the mothers they watched die, they had to as infants be cuddled by their keepers. They were damaged by that. PTSD is a big deal.
Years later yet, by some coincidence I found the son of a man who owned the company that makes the toys for McDonalds and we spoke a lot online for years. We had a sort of closeness but he lives in the States and I’m VERY upset with him. We had an e-date and we watched Agora. Obviously it was my choice of film.
I said that I didn’t appreciate how educated she had been, and yet that she justified having had slaves. He said “baby steps.”
He showed me photos of his expensive home and told me that he’s both Jewish and AZN.
Years later I got sectioned in part because I told my “sister” about him. THIS IS HE. My “sister” doesn’t know me very well but she knows how to manipulate stories, and she called him “mr mcdonalds”. I give everyone nicknames. That was not a nickname I had given him, my sister is a compulsive liar.
Ian is far wealthier than I am. He is, on paper, apparently worth more than me. I’m royalty though Ian. But it isn’t really money that gives a person their worth, not in my World, that is not how I was raised. I think it offended him that I was unimpressed by anything he had, or his education (he is a university snob) and if he did not have a friend like me, he might not’ve done much with his life, might not have been compelled to search for people worthy of learning something from. Might’ve been quite happy with who he is.
Stamford though: it was, as I’d been told by a landlady, a ‘beautiful’ part of England.
I recalled for a moment all my associations with the word Stamford that deserved some explanation but would’ve been out of place in this piece of work I did.
Well there’s Stamford Brook. I once took an exam there, in what had been a prison for juvenile delinquents turned into a venue for my A-level Philosophy exam.
There’s also the Stanford experiment – which was sort of a psychosocial experiment in which people were given one of two roles in a prison. You were either selected to be a prison guard or you were selected to be a prisoner, and you were put in the setting for a period and forced to live under that dynamic with complete strangers.
The idea was that people, given positions of authority and without consequence would show the predatory nature of human kind. They knew they were being watched and that “nothing” was being done.
The abuse inflicted towards prison guards and prisoners both, was so terrifying that I think they had to terminate the experiment prematurely. I think someone actually died.
If you are not raised for a position of power, by people who have been raised many generations over – you cannot be responsible for it. The ideal person for a position of power is a person who wants nothing to do with it.
If you are a communist, or you are inclined that way as I am – you believe that people of power assume it and then step down but I do not think that humans really understand the nature of our existence to be able to do that.
I know I was raised to do that, but I had to experience a lot to be able to survive my life and I once said that you earth a current of energy to stop it going back and forth. I took and took and took abuses in my life that most people would’ve committed suicide over and I did so with a performance of sorts that made you all think I didn’t really care. The good bit about it was you believed I didn’t really care, the bad bit about it is that you actually believed I didn’t care?
That I had no idea that there was some truth I deserved to hear?
I was taught by a family that had been raised by a judge, that made a final decision for the United Nations. If you want to prove something, if you want to make a judgement in a court of law, you need to be able to prove it without ANY DOUBT.
Hints are not and were not good enough.
If you grew up with a family like mine, you also became accustomed to the habits of liars fast. Latin parents are strict and also, arabs talk to one another pretty abruptly. That is how we communicate. Give me a person, any person, and I will try to match them up in terms of how I speak to them. I’ll attempt to be appropriate.
My sister has tiny dresses that she never wears, that cost what some people working under minimum wage earn. She got some discounts but she still paid hundreds for many things.
Whenever I complained, growing up, about the injustices of my sibling being given more than me, money to go out, money for clothes – she would screech with her irritating, shrill voice things like “DONT BRING ME INTO IT, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE IT ABOUT ME, DONT MAKE IT ABOUT ME” with as much vehemence as she’d later in your life scream things like “YOU ARE SO SELF OBSESSED” You really have to hear it to appreciate how embarrassing it is.
But the worst bit is that my ‘dad’ writes like this, the guy that liked to pit us against one another. He knew exactly what he was doing.
He can speak Arabic fluently, French fluently and English fluently. That is more languages than you can speak, isn’t it.
So he’s not a retard.
He pretends to be.
I can navigate liars much better than you can, and what you mistook for naiveté was actually a behaviour you’d be a better person for imitating. The pursuit of truth from all perspectives available, the assumption of INNOCENCE because someone is ‘not guilty’ until they are proven guilty beyond all doubt – because you don’t want to be responsible for imprisoning a person that was innocent, but you also don’t want to be responsible for a dangerous person harming innocent people because you were too lazy to do the fucking work.
There was another experiment like the Stamford experiment, a person would be placed in front of a button and told to press it and that upon doing so they’d hear a person screaming in agony but they were assured there would be no consequence towards the fact. So they did.
To the left is a chrysalis, I imagine, although something in me worries it’s passed but as much as I think so, I also do not. On the right is a magnet (maggot). I did afew things in this little patch, it was cleared of grass because I placed something on top for my spider friends when they lived above that spot and the grass stopped growing because it didn’t get any sun. I took Cici and Nyu (one of the plants had died, I put the remains in my maggot-left-over bin that is also a magnet farm) and one remained alive, I think it was Cici but I also know that they’d of happily shared a body. I planted them beneath the soil. I also put in some tinned tomato left overs in the soil so it makes sense that these two popped out at some point that day.
The cream blob is from a pastry. The magnet to the right tasted the cream, and enjoyed it, but did not consume much. These insects have no greed in them because they have never needed anything, they’ve been given everything they needed and had many options from which to choose.
From an evolutionary perspective I think that having what is needed cultivates an environment that minimises suffering. I asked the magnet “who are you” and with it’s mouth, on the opposite end to it’s eyes, they gestured at me.
These are some white tights I bought from ASOS and I’m quite happy with them.
This is a new plant friend I bought from the local floristress and her daughter, who have many mentions in my blog lately because I’ve invested in plants which make much better companions than human beings.
I sound depressed. I was thinking of Einstein mostly when I annotated this. I’m perhaps a bit melancholic but also I was a goth growing up and that tendency I have to be a little bit morbid and a little bit too thoughtful fosters a kind of observational gift that I’d like to imagine enriches my capacity for storytelling. Another thing: plants have never seemed to be very conversational and one of my talents is actually just speaking. Which again, is ironic, because I spent my life mute or not mute. I used to talk to people all day if I could, during my teens, using MSN. It didn’t matter if they were ‘genuine’ or not or what they might’ve wanted from me, because I was sitting in front of a computer and typing.
I wanted to learn how to touch type because I enjoyed the noise of women’s nails tapping on a keyboard after seeing this beautifully attired receptionist cheerfully humming a lugubrious death-march.