“Be as promiscuous as rabbits!”

Nail me to a cross, baby, and call me your Lord and savior. Blasphemous, much? You better fucking believe it! I picked me up a free latex suit and boots and now I’m thinking that I should hint to Kiara to give me a S&M/Leather & Latex theme @ Mint Lounge this Wednesday. Why Wednesday, you ask? Well, tell me what other day suggests a sexual term in its nickname like Wednesday does? Anyway, I’ve made me a little playlist for the event in case it happens entitled “Slavery.” It consists of Nine Inch Nails, Bile, Kidney Thieves, She Wants Revenge and Apoptygma Berzerk. We’ll see what happens.

I wander over to Caged earlier because I’m bored and I have nothing better to do with my off time than to hang out at Caged. I asked Portia to zip me over there, later regretting that I had as when everyone and everything I saw that she and Judas fondling each other and making out up against a fence – yes, ladies and gentlemen, The Caged Asylum now features fences inside their establishments to, whether joking or not, keep the campers out (I got an idea for you, best way to keep the campers is out is, oh, I dunno – GET RID OF THE FUCKING CAMPING GROUNDS!) Enough of that though. Anyway, Portia and Judas practically fucking – which later, it became sorta that as Judas unleashed his rather large, yet flat, cock – I waltz over to the newly singled Battle and hung out with him because I wasn’t in the mood of losing all my food. Okay, enough with those jokes – I’m not jealous, not even in the slightest (the situation is competely different this time around).

I was having a good time until a certain someone wanted me to come over without even asking me in the slightest if I wanted to hang out or not, or if I was at all busy. I’m normally more calm about this, but after the whole SAAD incident of him stalking me out using a cronie to help, I’ve been a little on the defensive with people asking me to just put down all my shit so I can go over there and help them, or keep them company. If you want someone to be at your every whim, go get yourself an escort. In fact, I know one.

Now we’re on that subject, iole told me that a certain someone who I thought I could trust but let me down in the end – isn’t that a little shocker, me trusting them and them turning around and telling me one thing yet doing another – is now into the escort business. Well, to be fair, I think she always was, but not it seems out of desperation. It makes me sad to know that one will go to those lengths, but to each her own, right?

There might be some drama brewing up between two clubs, and the first person to lower the hatchet into the others back will be the first to make a fatal mistake. Clubs aren’t supposed to be enemies and if you treat them as such and alienate those who work for both to the point an ultimatum is needed, believe you me, you’ll be making a big mistake. Never make anyone choose between yourself and the other, it’s juat a fool’s choice and not to mention a rookie decision.

So I’m canceling people out of my circle. We all make a choice and my choice was to tell people more about the final product. Those who I won’t tell have proven to be untrustworthy. Phoenix, Kiara, Wit, iole and, of course, Portia know what’s going to happen and what is happening. The rest of you will not be told yet, or ever.

Postscript: I had the wonderful opportunity of encountering Zombie Zeplin, a person Portia wrote about on her blog who was bragging about taking cough and cold medicine and accusing Portia of not having a “zombie name.” Today’s tidbit was financial advice. She asked for some advice and I told her to see a therapist. Shortly after that, she logged off her tip jar and vanished. She’s not gonna be an attention whore at Caged. We have enough of those and they don’t like competition. Shitbag of the week, Zombie Zeplin.

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