Hey, pornbodies!

Here’s the thing. I’ve loved Boris Karloff all my life. He is, dare I say, the man. He appears in a lot of my dreams.

Click Here to read a monologue unrelated to Boris Karloff. Unless he’s into the idea of narrating it.

“BLOGGER”

I suggest you get over it now before you start dressing like her and saying stupid “I’m pretending to not care” stuff like she does. Imagine: A person who writes/ talks about everything that happens to her – all the culture she exposes herself to – and gives commentary like wah-wah-wah-cheese-past-its-expiration. This girl is not cool.

Whatever happened to the good old Mom-and-Pop self-hatred where you quietly wished you didn’t exist?

“Oh, not us. Not us. We bury ourselves in oversized hoodies – hoodies with bear ears sewn onto them and then we pull our knees up to our chests and lie on our sides -SAD, but perfectly aware of our cuteness.”

I say, if you hate yourself, HATE yourself. She’s lucky she’s so adorable. Talking about about how her little fag friends lean in and whisper catty comments about outside, day-in-the-life unfortunate “I ran into an ex boyfriend” situations, and all that “hetero men are so silly” shit. Oh and oh, isn’t life so fucking horrible?

“But it’s ok. I’ll shrug it off because my sense of humor, my ever-so-funny indifference, shall prevail. With my hoodie. Oh my hoodie. And oh my shoes. And oh my body and oh my body. The way I hunch over making it all look like, ‘Oh you mean THIS little thing?'”

She deserves every anxiety attack she can’t get herself out of. My cousin used to date her. Well, touch her. She lets people touch her because, you know, that’s what girls who pretend to be unphased do.

So it’s morning and he’s standing there in the doorway quietly and watches her in the kitchen. She’s standing there facing the sink with a bowl of cereal on the counter and yeah milk. Wearing a hoodie, of course, and stupid girl-boxers. And as she’s looking down at the cereal, stirring, she whispers, “Flakes so soggggggy… Flakes so sogggggggy… Why you get so sogggggggggy so fast.” In that cutesy kitten baby voice. “And I give you more milk and you get sogggggggier. I’m gonna squish you. Squish you in my mouth.”

Swear to god.

And upon hearing this, I thought: Ok, she could’ve known you were in the room and started her acting-cool-bit already ’cause what was it, 8 am? That’s LATE for her to go without hair and makeup. OR! And this one just makes me angry – she could really be insane. And that pisses me off because if she IS crazy, then she really is a no-nonsense, non-margarine, high-test damaged soul. And that makes her justifiably, fucking adorable. Plus crazy + beautiful + sort-of-ok writer is very seductive.

But I’m gonna stick to my guns and say no she’s an actress. An actress who needs instant gratification, gets it, then doesn’t know what to do with it. So she writes. Writes about it with her “Ah, me!” and “Ah, silly world” front. Front-Front-Front. That’s all she ever had going for her. I wish her years of bad aging.

I wish you further, unhappiness. The kind that is NOT attractive.

And I know men who don’t like her – hetero men – and not in the “I wanna hate-fuck her” way. Just the your real, basic… “Keep her away from me. She’s a headache.” So I wish her luck. Cutesy hoodie luck. And hope that down the line we figure out WHAT happened to wanting to become a finer person.

END.

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One Response to “Hey, pornbodies!”

  1. It’s a woman speaking as Karloff as Spalding Grey

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