Bloody Tampon
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- Posted: Tue, 03 Oct 2006 22:06:09 +0000
This is one of those hangout threads all the kids are raving about these days, minus the flashy text and banners.
The following will be text about myself that most of you will not read because you are either A) Illiterate, B) Have A.D.D., or C) Do not care to know.
I'm from a small town in West Union, Ohio where there's not a hell of a lot to do, I'm afraid. I mainly stay home and occupy my time with entertainment such as movies, music, games, and the Internet. I've grown to be a bit of a hermit, minus the beard and craziness.
I had a job, stocking and bagging groceries, which I hated. I've long since quit that job when I went through an unplanned emotional escapade of life, but thankfully that has been completed. I probably should be thinking of finding another job, but right now I am content with my 10-13k in the bank/in my safe and mooching off of my mother.
Yes, I am twenty-three years of age and I live with my mother. I am a virgin (was) and that is hilarious, I know. However because of my lack of sexual activity, it has only made me grow to become more comedic. If you can't laugh about yourself, then you have no right to laugh at anybody else, right?
I grew up on a quite a decent-sized farm. I can't recall the actual amount of acres and what not, but we had two ponds and 4, no 5 fenced off sections of land. We had everything from pigs to cattle to chickens, but sadly no horses. My dad, ironically loved horses and actually worked on a ranch during the last years of his life.
The farm did not belong to us. We were merely renting off of our cousin's land who had bought it from my grandfather years before. He had become too old to simply keep up with it. My cousin was a nice man and I think I had looked up to him more than my own father.
He would take me places and buy me things like candy and what nots and even let me have sips of his beer. He would let me tag along when him and his hired hands would bail hay and I'd ride on the top of the wagon. The wagon would grow to maybe 20 feet off of the ground. One day the wagon had toppled with me on top and I had fell with bails of hay covering me. Bear in mind that I was still young so I could not lift even one 10-20 lbs bail of hay. The wind had been knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was dying and perhaps I would have. I think I passed out for a moment because the first thing I saw was Ray (my cousin) kneeling over me, yelling at me to breathe. I coughed some blood and hay and he told me to go to my mother.
I know he saved my life on that day and I loved him for it, but it grows a bit weird because I think he was sleeping with my mother. The cousin was not related to her, btw, but to my dad. I recall peeking into the kitchen when I was very young and seeing them kissing. I had also seen them go off into a back room together, while my dad was gone. I'm not sure why I just said that because I've don't believe I've ever told anybody this before. I don't even wish to bring it up to my own mother.
I'd spend most of my days outside, playing with one thing or another. Sometimes, I'd go fishing, but it was somewhat frowned on, since I did not and still do not know how to swim. I'd do it anyway. I remember one year, I had decided it was a good idea to jump on the ice of a semi-frozen ditch. The ice gaveway and I received a negative degrees bath. When I had marched up the hill, climbed over the fence, feeling the needles of coldness stabbing at my blue skin, I took comfort in the heat of the house. I had gone into the kitchen, absolutely dripping where my mother was standing. She turned around and saw me, shivering with my teeth chattering and my lower lip stuck out and had beat me with tears in her eyes.
My sixteenth birthday party met with food poisoning and having my stomach pumped. My grandfather had attempted to make me an upside-down pineapple cake (My favorite, btw), but had failed to notice, due to poor eyesight, that the can of pineapples had expired long ago. I ate four big slices greedily, despite their being a slight tangy taste to the pineapples underneath. I had assumed he had used a can with low sugar and that was the culprit of the off-ness of the flavor.
During the next few hours, my stomach erupted in irascibleness like I have never encountered before. It hurt so terribly that I could not even muster up the sheer strength to force myself to throw up. I stared up toward my ceiling with pending death swarming my thoughts, until at some point I blacked out. I awoke lying down as I had fallen asleep, except now my ceiling was in constant motion. The lights were bright and furiously beaming into my aching eyes every few seconds. I held my eyes shut, until I realized I was hearing several people talk around me. I was told that I repeatedly asked my father to "Turn down the television," before I eventually passed out again. I awoke several hours later with a bitter-taste encompassing my dry mouth. To this day, I haven't been able to stomach my favorite cake.
My cousin died via a heart attack. His wife had decided to sell the farm, which meant we were out of a home. We eventually found a place in the middle of town. It was quite a change for someone who would be able to walk around, shouting, and doing as he pleased to suddenly be surrounded by houses and peering eyes. I guess that made me become more of a recluse than I was on the farm. Perhaps it was the fact I didn't have as much back then to keep me indoors and now I don't have much to keep me outdoors.
My father and I had a special bond. The kind where we would watch television together and never talk. He would quote a movie/cartoon, then I would quote a movie/cartoon. My mother and him didn't sleep in the same bed. I had slept in my mother's bed and my brother had slept in my father's bed. I never asked why this was so because it was normal in my eyes. I just wish, my father wouldn't sometimes come in the middle of the night. I remember thinking if i rolled off the bed, he'd stop, but alas, it didn't work. Note: I'm referring to him having sex with my mom, NOT sexually abusing me. Although, it was quite emotionally abusive.
Now excuse me for jumping around from time frame to time frame, but it's just how my mind is reflecting everything.
My grandfather died of a heart attack as well. A few years after that, my father died of a heart attack himself. You see a pattern here? I saw neither of them in their final days. I was stuck watching my autistic brother, but I'm not sure if I would've went if I could have. I couldn't go to neither my grandfather's funeral or wake and I only managed the wake with my father. I feel like a bad person because I never can recall the date of all of these peoples deaths or even the years when I'm asked. I simply don't want to remember, I guess. It's bad enough that St. Patrick's day (Grandfather's birthday) and Halloween (Father's birthday) are now depressing days for me.
All of this has made pessimistic toward the ways of life and grow to enjoy stories where the outcome is often worse than the way it had started. This does not mean that I do not enjoy life. Quite the opposite. I love life, but even when you love life, there are no happy endings. Someday, you'll die or someone you love will die and you'll be forced to go on living without them. I don't believe in heaven or hell, nor in reincarnation. What you have right now is all you'll ever have in my eyes.
I'm not a bad man, but I do not consider myself to be a good man either. I laugh at people who have died. I make jokes at the expense of others. AIDS is a funny word, but that does not make me a monster.
Anyhow, I want to wrap this up because I am boring myself to tears.
In this thread you will more than likely find my friends posting. Actually, you'll more than likely just see me posting domokun . But hey, eventually someone will come in to spam their I NEED GOLD formatted posts so that's something to look forward to. Right?
Time to post domos!
Oh and btw....[superman] ******** raaaawks!!!!! xd
The following will be text about myself that most of you will not read because you are either A) Illiterate, B) Have A.D.D., or C) Do not care to know.
I'm from a small town in West Union, Ohio where there's not a hell of a lot to do, I'm afraid. I mainly stay home and occupy my time with entertainment such as movies, music, games, and the Internet. I've grown to be a bit of a hermit, minus the beard and craziness.
I had a job, stocking and bagging groceries, which I hated. I've long since quit that job when I went through an unplanned emotional escapade of life, but thankfully that has been completed. I probably should be thinking of finding another job, but right now I am content with my 10-13k in the bank/in my safe and mooching off of my mother.
Yes, I am twenty-three years of age and I live with my mother. I am a virgin (was) and that is hilarious, I know. However because of my lack of sexual activity, it has only made me grow to become more comedic. If you can't laugh about yourself, then you have no right to laugh at anybody else, right?
I grew up on a quite a decent-sized farm. I can't recall the actual amount of acres and what not, but we had two ponds and 4, no 5 fenced off sections of land. We had everything from pigs to cattle to chickens, but sadly no horses. My dad, ironically loved horses and actually worked on a ranch during the last years of his life.
The farm did not belong to us. We were merely renting off of our cousin's land who had bought it from my grandfather years before. He had become too old to simply keep up with it. My cousin was a nice man and I think I had looked up to him more than my own father.
He would take me places and buy me things like candy and what nots and even let me have sips of his beer. He would let me tag along when him and his hired hands would bail hay and I'd ride on the top of the wagon. The wagon would grow to maybe 20 feet off of the ground. One day the wagon had toppled with me on top and I had fell with bails of hay covering me. Bear in mind that I was still young so I could not lift even one 10-20 lbs bail of hay. The wind had been knocked out of me and I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was dying and perhaps I would have. I think I passed out for a moment because the first thing I saw was Ray (my cousin) kneeling over me, yelling at me to breathe. I coughed some blood and hay and he told me to go to my mother.
I know he saved my life on that day and I loved him for it, but it grows a bit weird because I think he was sleeping with my mother. The cousin was not related to her, btw, but to my dad. I recall peeking into the kitchen when I was very young and seeing them kissing. I had also seen them go off into a back room together, while my dad was gone. I'm not sure why I just said that because I've don't believe I've ever told anybody this before. I don't even wish to bring it up to my own mother.
I'd spend most of my days outside, playing with one thing or another. Sometimes, I'd go fishing, but it was somewhat frowned on, since I did not and still do not know how to swim. I'd do it anyway. I remember one year, I had decided it was a good idea to jump on the ice of a semi-frozen ditch. The ice gaveway and I received a negative degrees bath. When I had marched up the hill, climbed over the fence, feeling the needles of coldness stabbing at my blue skin, I took comfort in the heat of the house. I had gone into the kitchen, absolutely dripping where my mother was standing. She turned around and saw me, shivering with my teeth chattering and my lower lip stuck out and had beat me with tears in her eyes.
My sixteenth birthday party met with food poisoning and having my stomach pumped. My grandfather had attempted to make me an upside-down pineapple cake (My favorite, btw), but had failed to notice, due to poor eyesight, that the can of pineapples had expired long ago. I ate four big slices greedily, despite their being a slight tangy taste to the pineapples underneath. I had assumed he had used a can with low sugar and that was the culprit of the off-ness of the flavor.
During the next few hours, my stomach erupted in irascibleness like I have never encountered before. It hurt so terribly that I could not even muster up the sheer strength to force myself to throw up. I stared up toward my ceiling with pending death swarming my thoughts, until at some point I blacked out. I awoke lying down as I had fallen asleep, except now my ceiling was in constant motion. The lights were bright and furiously beaming into my aching eyes every few seconds. I held my eyes shut, until I realized I was hearing several people talk around me. I was told that I repeatedly asked my father to "Turn down the television," before I eventually passed out again. I awoke several hours later with a bitter-taste encompassing my dry mouth. To this day, I haven't been able to stomach my favorite cake.
My cousin died via a heart attack. His wife had decided to sell the farm, which meant we were out of a home. We eventually found a place in the middle of town. It was quite a change for someone who would be able to walk around, shouting, and doing as he pleased to suddenly be surrounded by houses and peering eyes. I guess that made me become more of a recluse than I was on the farm. Perhaps it was the fact I didn't have as much back then to keep me indoors and now I don't have much to keep me outdoors.
My father and I had a special bond. The kind where we would watch television together and never talk. He would quote a movie/cartoon, then I would quote a movie/cartoon. My mother and him didn't sleep in the same bed. I had slept in my mother's bed and my brother had slept in my father's bed. I never asked why this was so because it was normal in my eyes. I just wish, my father wouldn't sometimes come in the middle of the night. I remember thinking if i rolled off the bed, he'd stop, but alas, it didn't work. Note: I'm referring to him having sex with my mom, NOT sexually abusing me. Although, it was quite emotionally abusive.
Now excuse me for jumping around from time frame to time frame, but it's just how my mind is reflecting everything.
My grandfather died of a heart attack as well. A few years after that, my father died of a heart attack himself. You see a pattern here? I saw neither of them in their final days. I was stuck watching my autistic brother, but I'm not sure if I would've went if I could have. I couldn't go to neither my grandfather's funeral or wake and I only managed the wake with my father. I feel like a bad person because I never can recall the date of all of these peoples deaths or even the years when I'm asked. I simply don't want to remember, I guess. It's bad enough that St. Patrick's day (Grandfather's birthday) and Halloween (Father's birthday) are now depressing days for me.
All of this has made pessimistic toward the ways of life and grow to enjoy stories where the outcome is often worse than the way it had started. This does not mean that I do not enjoy life. Quite the opposite. I love life, but even when you love life, there are no happy endings. Someday, you'll die or someone you love will die and you'll be forced to go on living without them. I don't believe in heaven or hell, nor in reincarnation. What you have right now is all you'll ever have in my eyes.
I'm not a bad man, but I do not consider myself to be a good man either. I laugh at people who have died. I make jokes at the expense of others. AIDS is a funny word, but that does not make me a monster.
Anyhow, I want to wrap this up because I am boring myself to tears.
In this thread you will more than likely find my friends posting. Actually, you'll more than likely just see me posting domokun . But hey, eventually someone will come in to spam their I NEED GOLD formatted posts so that's something to look forward to. Right?
Time to post domos!
Oh and btw....[superman] ******** raaaawks!!!!! xd
