Monday, May 26, 2003

Almost all of my friends are tolerating me in my addiction/obsession/insanity.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

***

A few months ago, a friend lent me a historical romance novel by Johanna Lindsay.

The female protagonist was forced to marry an extremely old but rich a titled hubby to save her estates. On their wedding night, she was caught off guard because this old man hired another guy to do all the effing for him so his line could go on.

Our heroine managed to over power both men. She had a little help from her stepbrother who killed the over-muscled goon, while the old man couldn’t handle the excitement and died. In short, our heroine escaped a virgin and an innocent.

Now, her dilemma. To keep her estate and her husband’s she must produce an heir. Since her husband was blond and blue-eyed, she needed a guy who had the same physical attributes to impregnate her. Then, she’ll pass the child as that of her first husband.

When she found her guy, he didn’t expect her to be, well, huge. With her hymen still intact, the rape wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park for her. The first time she held his phallus, she didn’t know why it’s soft and flaccid. So she went outside the room and asked her maid for some advice.

Our heroine returned with a new set of determination. She took her clothes off (which she didn’t do the first time) and used her long hair to tickle her captive. Then the rest, as they say, is history.

Before I get carried away, I suggest you read her blogto know what happened next.

Actually, that particularly entry was meant as a step-by-step-how-to-rape-my-dream-guy for me.

See how tolerant my friends are?

Even in my crime career path, I have their full support.

***

Been cleaning my room. Decided to throw old research papers and other useless things I’ve been hoarding for the past eight years.

Then I came upon my old diary from second year high school. I had forgotten half of what I wrote there. I couldn’t finish reading some entries because I couldn’t take my own mushiness.

But some entries made me remember.

There was a time when my seatmate, who was not only a squealer but also a major ass-kisser, approached my Math teacher after an exam. My teacher looked at our row, and apparently, this made me nervous and I began to shake.

I was so sure that I was busted. But luck was on my side that day. The Rat referred to my other two partners.

I was so thankful after, that I wrote about how sorry I am, and that I promise I’ll never cheat or lie in my life again.

I guess I was crossing my fingers when I made that promise.

***

I wonder what I’ll think of myself when I read my blog entries in the future.

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Monday, May 26, 2003

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