Revenge Can Blind even to the UnDeaD

Revenge has been my etho since I had to leave my home. I know now it blinds me from my course.

I am not an evil person but I will kill without blinking.

I will not apologize for killing.

Everyone I killed has deserved it.

Hamlet said to Ophelia, " God gives you one face, and you make yourself another."

I fight between who I was and who I am.

I was alive when I had my family even though I was dead.

I was alive!
They made me alive!

But now I am robbed of them and someone has to pay for that minus.

My identity is that of the unDead.
That is all I am now.
And I want the man who did this to me.

I found him and I have lured him to my home this weekend.

How will it end?

What will I do?

Does the unDeaD have a soul? I do not think so but memories of my life still cloud my mind and I think perhaps somewhere in the great depth of all this death and silence...I hear music and moments of a past life.

Do I have a soul or do I not have a soul...

That is the question.


Let BlinDeaD rest her soul or at least give her peace with it!


Emotion are not the UnDeaD's Bag y'all

I can tell you I still have no remorse for the death of anyone who crossed me.

The Count and his wife...do you know how they kept their castle in such great condition?

They used the money from young girls that were thrown into sex trafficking after their parents were killed for not being able to pay back the money they owed to the shylock that ran their loan business in Bulgaria.

Have you ever been to Bulgaria?

Well, its not the most romantic riviera to anywhere. Its cold and the people look more dead than I.

I could see in the architecture and in the worn down walls that there was once a most beautiful city that held hope. Its like being a Texan coming to the Big Apple and seeing Manhattan with a realtor with the budget of $2k...nothing will crush your hopes of a better life than that move.

Now you know Bulgaria...not really..I am generalizing an entire country based on the Russian mobbed district I was held up in but if the horseshoe fits ...it fits the whole country!

They tried to rope, tie, rape,  and threatened me with a gun just for my asking how to get a hold of the Count. No wonder he liked dead girls-his taste for 12 year olds got boring apparently-and he paid his minions incredibly well to keep him supplied with little ones so they were a little reluctant to give him up.

Death was a little too nice for him but I did not let him die easily and I did not let his Russian whore wife get to live out her majestic life on the lives of little girls. She so knew and could not care less. I hated touching her but the Count hated it more and that was worth every dirty moment.

I video taped it for prosperity. I watched it over and over as I was flying home and although I have no emotions... my face cracked  a smile whenever I watched them die at my hands....must be a glitch in my chemistry.

The Doctor can fix it for the BlinDeaD


The UndeaD has no Empathy for Humans

We are not alive and we watch you humans have the life we lost.

Do you think we have any empathy for those that piss it away on gluttony, alcohol, drugs, or just hating life because you are too weak to change it?

A big fat nope would be the answer to that.

There is a heaven and hell, only its on this earth.

You create it and you live it. Whether you choose to live in hell or heaven is all up on you.

But when your dead, you don't get that choice any more.

I can kill without blinking an eye now.

Yes, I mean the Count. I killed him and for fun had sex with his wife before I killed her too. We played drip the jewels on my body as we orgasmed and...



She dead.

Thanks for the jewels!

I am nothing more than a succubus and I am feeding on the hatred humans regurgitate on a daily basis.

I was hoping to be Glenda the witch from OZ bu why help the greater good when there is none right now?

The fucker Count, who has millions on top of millions, rather fuck an unDeaD, royally, than just have sex with a dead chick.

I get it.

When you are bored with all the money in the world to spend, why spend it?

He wanted to earn it.

He wanted to manipulate and play games with it.

But he played with the unDeaD.

So IT killed him.

Your a DeaD Count and now I have control of your money left behind in the vault.

You see, I did my homework while I was stuck in Bruge taking nude pics of myself in the ancient mirrors they have to ccupy my time during the lay over while my coffin was confiscated.

I am not a vampire. I can see my reflection and seeing a 26 year old body show itself through a mirror of a decadent guided frame of the 18th century knowing I died much later in life brings me the only satisfaction I have now.


My favorite part about old European royalty...they never trust banks and always keep the majority of their stash in a safe that is left open for company to admire. 

I will be flying home tomorrow and back in the good ole U.S. of A.

Who needs a passport when you have all the money in the world to fly first class in your own wings?

I am headed to Chicago to see an old Doctor.

BlinDeaD does not need a passport now..she has carte blanche on her own C5!


Even the unDeaD NeeD Something

Do you have any idea what it is like to have story and not be able to tell anyone because they would not believe you?

Well, imagine having a story not only the good guy won't believe but the bad guy will use it any way he can.

And thus my story, in Bruge begins....

You know, its quite a fairy tale place if you ever visit for the right reasons. Tucked away in the middle of some great countries...

I wish I was alive and could come here with my son but it is not to be.

I am here in a desperate situation and I am at a loss on how to get out without having to kill again.

It seems all I do now is kill to get out.

Like I said...the undead make perfect assassins.

No remorse, no glory, no one to tell...

I have to go now but please be there for me when I return.

What the fuck does an undead need with therapists..we have you on the Internet and we need you.

BlonDeaD needs you!


Coffer Up Count

Sometimes a dead girl just has to get out of her coffin and cause some havoc in the hood.

How many weeks did I sit there and wait in my shipping vessel for the arranged pickup?!!

A really, really long time!

I never did get the transaction with the Count completed but he is about to get a sweet visitation from me and he better 'Coffer Up!!'

I think he will pay up considering I have his correspondance and video-unpublished.

I am planning my excursion now why I sit in a coffee house late at night. I am also reading the Prague version  of "The Post". Technically, I do not read Czech or Romanian so I am more or less enjoying the pictures of my funeral box in the paper.

It is a bit ironic that I would get discovered, again, this close to Transylvania.

Actually, Prague is 12 hours from the Dracula Castle of Romania which is a giant tourist trap but t is as close to Transylvania as someone can be unless they translate the words literally and find out Transylvania just means 'beyond the woods' and they sit somewhere in the woods just beyond.

Speaking of the beyond...this Blonde unDeaD is about to rent a motocross bike and head off in the direction of the Count's estate after this brief update to you.

So, about Prague!

One it is gorgeous and I highly recommend the trip. I personally flew in a Citation and was docked in Plzen Line airport for all these weeks. Finally, I just had to bust out. I did not realize how long I was in my comfy dead bed since the undead do not feel time. I had run out of juice on my electronics and so really just laid in stiff until I thought it was quiet enough to move around and get out.



A guard on night duty spotted me getting out of the casket -which by the way- they had in an ice cold meat locker of a room.

I could see frost on some of the boxes they had stacked me in with. How utterly rude to treat the dead this way. I am not a side of cattle nor smuggled sausage.


I could not very well take a car and driver so I stole a motor car and dumped it just before the small town I am in. I would tell you but it seems I am on the run and need to keep a low profile of exact places for the moment.

I do not know where the Count is but I need to find him because, not only does he owe  money for the cancelled transaction but he better figure out how to get back my pimped out mobile sarcophagus!

BlonDead needs her ride back!


I May Be Dead but I Am nOt BlinD

Here is a little eye contact secret from femme to femme.

Here is how the eyes go for femme checking out another femme.

If your cute we will make eye contact and summarize you in one glance.

If your super cute with a good bod, we will look you in the face, look down to your outfit, and if the outfit is worthy...we will travel our eyes to the most important part of the female wardrobe.

ThE shoes.

Now, if your shoes are dead on, we will bring our eyes right back up to your face and give you an overall OK with an expressionless look of approval.

If your shoes do not make the cut..our eyes just drift off in  another direction.

Its a silent language that men will never understand and for insecure girls..they will just think they are being dissed.

Sooo...wrong CHicKas!

If a girl disses you..she won't ever look back up.

It is a compliment if a girl take this much time to check you out which in human time is less then 3 seconds.

The BlinDeaD is not blindeD!!

Flying a Dead BOdy

While researching what must be done to carry my undead body to the European destination for my next job, I encountered the rude way they transport on commercial flights. I am glad I have a first class casket ad and a borrowed G5 for my travels.

Caskets are always put on passenger airplanes. Almost every airline I have dealt with requires the casket be to be with in an airtray. The airtray is always marked with the words HUMAN REMAINS, the persons name, flight number, origin, and destination. Most people are with in caskets, but on a few occasions I have received them in alternate containers. One of the most difficult countries to send a person to is Italy

Amsterdam Airport Schiphol is one of the few airports which has a fully operational mortuary, capable of handling up to 40 bodies. On average the mortuary deals with approximately 2000 bodies per year, about 60 % of which are in repatriation or transit to foreign places of burial and 40% returning to the Netherlands.  

I can not use a global mortuary service to ship my remains because they will insist I be embalmed and well...we can't have that.

This is going to be a bit tricky getting to my jet ride when I can not drive myself.

I am sure there are ways, I just know it will be a giant expense out of pocket.

The Blondead is still researching the situation.


Cut Their Fingers Off

Driving from one city to another two nights ago...

I saw a young girl standing in the middle of two trucks on an exit ramp just past a truck stop; with her two suitcases and she was looking at the drive of one truck. Both trucks with tinted windows so you could not see the cowards.

She seemed afraid and was looking inside the trucks window at whom ever was in the driver seat and then turned her head to the other truck. She was to get in the new truck but she stood there waiting not wanting to go.

It was a few seconds but for the undead we can slow down time and watch every minute like a click of a film strip.

She had on a white t-shirt. She was brunette with shoulder length hair and she did not want to go in the truck. She tossed her head from side to side looking for an escape.

An escape that she never found.

 She could not have been older than 15.

By the time I found an exit to turn around and catch up to her...the trucks were gone and so was she.

I know in my soulless body that she was either a run-away or kidnapped girl that has been plunged into the sex trade.

It is one thing for me to choose to be a participant in the sexcapade trade but it is quite another thing to see a young girl forced into it that I could not save.

The BlonDeaD would like to find you!!!


The HeLa Makes me Tick

The HeLa cell is a cancer cell that was dubiously donated to science many, many years ago by Helen Lacks. She made no money, nor her family for this epic contribution to cancer research.

A travesty in my book.

Her cancer cells generated an entire industry of cancer research because her cancer cells flourished in a petri dish. They just do not die.

Helen Lacks is just as immortal as I.

I have her to thank for my immortality. I do not know the whole science behind it but I am working my way to learning. This takes money and if I have to sell my body for it, I will.

 I am definitely not selling my soul since that has found its way outside my body.

I struggle with that part of human emotion and attachment to my new found state of complacency. I have the ability to cross lines with little regret. I guess you could say I am close as possible to a human psychopath.

I struggle to maintain my decency but so many humans are greedy, self-serving, and quite frankly, the world would be better without them.

But I am not judge nor jury and I will not cross that line unless it is truly necessary as in the case of the plasma doctor.

Helen Lacks pumps through every morbid bit of my dead body.

 The Doctor that I am in search of thought it possible that cancer was only a mutation to a new species. Those who survive cancer are stronger and those who die were weak. This is nothing new; Darwin spoke of it in his 'Survival of the Fittest" theory.

For an unknown reason my cells were the first to mutate with the HeLa cell to create this perpetual state of immortality, indestructibility.

But at what cost?

My soul?

My humanity slipping from my mind now that I have left all that I loved behind me?

I will go back and forth from funny to odd to murderous rage but can you really not empathize with me?

Infants are greedy not because they are bad but because of need. They only know instinct and what will make them survive and that is where I am.

I am trying to keep my human thought process alive.

I realize I am in a bit of a quandary and have done things that a human with soul would not do but I am newly born undead and what I feed off of at the moment is...


its a hunger I can not describe and not one you are likely to understand.

Perhaps my hunger is fed from the cancer cells of Helen Lacks. Perhaps her soul is on those cells injected into my comatose body and causes this anger that I feed from.

Perhaps one day.....

The BlonDeaD will know her new role in the world of science!

Hotel TransvylManiac

Thank the powers of the dead for allowing me to have a 6 digit balance in the bank. I now have the opportunity to check out some primo hotels while on the lamb from psycho wife.

Why on earth would a woman who found out her husband had a necrophiliac bed romp want to save her marriage and blame the undead?

....And to have the audacity to try and knock down my hotel door?

Apparently this chick has a detective that has been following the hubbie and now following me!

I had to upgrade to a five star ZaZa just to make sure I have ample security.

Meanwhile, I have no address to ship my coffin to. It is ready with some awesome features but I need to find a warehouse before I can test it out.  I will try to post pics once I find a place to have it delivered.

So, next week...I will be traveling to Europe to the Czech Republic to have my long awaited super cash cow sexcepade with a Count.  I will be flying in a G5 but unfortunately I will be stuck in a luggage compartment. Its fin..I have my souped up Bentley corpse box for the ride.

I have had a day of quiet time and reflection and find the living need to relax and chill about their lives.

Honestly, how would you like to be dead and running around with no morality code to work with since God, heaven and hell are all a no-go?!

Yeah, you are right...

It is kind of awesome....

The BlonDeaD is headed to the club house for cocktails.


Damned Souls

...and its not mine. It belongs to the ones who are chasing me at the moment. Apparently the wife of the dead scientist is not all that interested in finding him but the wife of the necrophiliac is on my tale.

Are you asking the same thing as I?

Who is the real freak now?

Yes, I know!

I am on the move. I am headed yet to another town which is pissing me off because it really is getting in the way of my ordering the modifications to my crypt carrier and I head to Europe next week for some dead pan.


I will keep up with twitter if I can but check back late tonight after I am settled and remembering why I used to love drinking sooooo much

The bLondead is headed s little more less South.


Till The Sun Turns Black Video

I Want to go Back Home

I just want the life I used to have.

I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything will be alright.

I want my family to yell at me. I want them to tell me I am screwing up and I want them to have me again.

I see that they are grieving for me when I can tell them I am stil here.


I am not gone!!

I am still here!!

but I can't.

I am cold to the touch.

I look real but I don't feel real.

And I just killed a man.

All I do these days is run from a life and I am dead.

The iorony is not lost on me but it seems a bit too sad at the moment to find the humor right now.

I needed something from my past. I needed something from my old life.

I travelled back home and under the cloak of darkness, I took my oldest cat.

I have her now and I fed her what ever is pumping through my veins.

I now I have my cat with me forever.

I have to take off now and head north so my blogs will be spuradic.

I am afraid that the scientist that lingers in a decay in the room I left him...

I am afraid he told someone about me.

I am afraid I will be hunted.

The only solice I have is my cat...Miss Sophie is with me and she does not mind my cold touch.

 Please do not hate me...please just read me so I do not feel like a disgusting demon that has no humanity

The Blondead is moving quickly away from all this mess!!!

The Castle

Many days have gone and come since last I tied this man up. I may be undead but I still value life. I could not kill him and yet he would not see me for the person I still am.

I still have human thought and emotion in my body. I may not have blood pumping in my veins or a beating heart but I have to believe I still have a soul.

I still have good inside of me.

Why must he be so difficult?

He just will not let it out of his head that I am a science project that he can make his fame in the science community by exposing me and exploiting me.

If I let him go, his kind will hunt me, lock me up, and hurt me with a multitude of tests. And they will keep me locked up indefinitely. I do not have powers to break free..

His greed; his lust; lust for fame in the science world.

I am nothing but a lab rat to him.

All these days I have him tied up and showing him what will happen to me and he is...

he is..


He can't see reason.

I have tried. I have shown him kindness and my lack of ability to harm him.

My compassion and guilt for having to keep him tied.

He just keeps screaming at me.

He keeps screaming.

He just kept screaming at me...

I just wanted him to be quiet.



I really did not mean to do it.

I just wanted him quiet and to stop screaming at me and telling me that I am not alive

and I am only a freak of nature that science deserves to dissect and study.

I placed my silk scarf in his mouth and placed tape over it so he would not spit it out.

I left to finish the order on my coffin.

When I returned,

When I,

came back this morning and opened the door...

cold, grey, dead...

I stood without motion without feeling...

I was numb and for the first time,

I felt dead

Why could he not see that I was still human in some form?


You stupid,, stupid man?

The Blondead has a soul. I do. I know I do....I am not completely dead yet!


The Living can not Follow the Dead

...but, the living can follow the undead.

I was followed.

I was discovered.

I have to admit, I was not careful since I thought no one would believe that undead exists but I was mistaken.

At first, I thought I was followed by a random person that overheard the conversation at the W before I granted a $50k sleepover for a wealthy man into necrophilia scenarios.

But how stupid of me to think that anyone outside the scientific world would grasp such a thing.




This man has been tracking me for more than 10 years.

10 years I have been ordering plasma from a company in Europe and he is a scientist in their development program; a program that harvests and regenerates skin from stem cells. He has watched my every move.

And its only now since I have left my life behind that he took his chance. He made his move. He pulled out his queen.

Brilliant move on his part if you think about. He would be an awesome opponent at chess. For someone to wait carefully before ever pulling out their queen like this, well not to be redundant but nothing short of brilliant.

Patience is a virtue that always pays the most.

When I stopped ordering plasma last year and started ordering under a pseudonym that is when he knew that I am beyond pretending that I am normal and human.

He had me without me knowing he had me.


He found a way to subdue me and when I awoke I was duct taped to the window in the previous post.

He took a steak knife and struck hard and fast straight through me.

I felt something. Perhaps it was pain or just the memory of what pain felt like when I hurt myself when I was alive. For whatever reason, I felt something and every part of my body quivered in such a ravenous way that I fell to the floor and let out a muffled howling like no one had ever heard.

Imagine being hit so hard in the chest that you can no longer bring in air. That is what it felt like. I only know this feeling because when I was little, I climbed a tree and hung from a tree branch with my legs wrapped around and my hands holding on and my head dangling and smiling.

The tree branch broke and fell 2 stories along with my body. I fell flat on my back and had the breathe whipped right out of me. I could not breathe back in. I remember my Mother running toward me screaming and then all went dark.

Nothing went dark this time but my body hung in a state of perpetual motionless while he taped me up and took pictures of me while watching me heal. It is not like in the movies. You do not heal in a fifteen minute segment. And I needed the plasma to bathe in before I scarred.

 I kept motionless hoping he would leave and give me a chance to get away.

And then my chance came and I took it.

I hid away as he came back and I took him over and tied him with the same duct tape he used on me. I was going to cut him inside and out. I wanted to hate him and hurt him but then I thought...

Here is the one person who knows about me and how my cells work to keep me in a perpetual state of undead.

He will be my wing man.

Expose me and he gains nothing.

Exploit me and he can amass the same fortune as I.

We are currently in negotiations but I am certain he can not last as long as I can duct taped to a window without food and water.

I am sure he will see things my way or he will see things the way the dead do.....

Meanwhile, I bathe in the plasma and let my wound heal.

The Blondead will never follow the living again!!


Death over Religion


The Blonde has not killed her sense of irony!


I Am Miss Havisham

and I always will be.

The Blonde never once wore a wedding gown

I have no feeling about it only the thought...

Struck me funny today!

Should I have been sad about it when I was alive?

What did I miss?

Float to Feel

I used to float in the pool and hear my breathe under the water. I do not hear that now but I remember it. I remeber many things when I float but its only temporary.

I am grateful its temporary. Many things I remember are bad. I have good memories but they fight to stay afloat when my mind drifts back to when my heart beat.

I promised to get back to you and tell you about the stabbing but I can't tonight.

I floated today and feel funny...

Living memories are hitting me like a brick to my soul tonight.

I know I keep saying I will get back to you in a certain time but I just realize, I have no concept of time anymore.

The Blonde is under a fading blue Moon tonight!

The. New Grateful Dead for the UnDead

I just used Shazam to discover Unbelievers by Vampire Weekend.

The BlondeaD will take on unbelievers!!

Bitcoins can't Buy a Coffin

....and if I have to travel in the damn thing for theatrical effect in order to give my clients a once in lifetime-ahhh, the irony is not lost on me-sexual experience that goes beyond anyone's wildest imagination accept my own and perhaps Stephen King than the box better be the Bentley of  Coffins.

It is quite fun shopping for morgue supplies. I find they lack stereo and video installations for lay to rest box beds but then again who other than I and some wayward vasmpires would need such audio and video delights for their portable catacomb. I did find some with memory foam and platinum plated handles. I think I can afford the full platinum, memory foam with the space gel and and surround sound, satellite, etc...

Oh, hello?!! 

I think because of the obesity problem I probably can order a double wide coffin. Holy white trash Batman..how awesome and roomy will that be?


As you can see, I am finally shopping after a few days of resting and allowing my wound to heal.

The giant pratt that I will tell you about, stabbed me in the chest with a steak knife. The absolutely gall-no pun intended but it is an excellent happen stance pun-  of this person.

Where are his manners?

A run of the mil restaurant supply store steak knife!!

Oh shoot, the dude from Audio Lions is here to discuss the bose surround sound in my Bentley dead bed.

but check back later...

The Blonde has blood curdling details about her stabbing!


Dream A Little Dream

...about a serpent.

It was as vivid and real as I sit here in technicolor reality. The large serpent was light grey on top with black eyes and white scales along its bottom side.

The serpent was large and dead laying upside down. His length was shorter than the boa constrictor that was wrapped tightly around its neck still squeezing the serpent even beyond  its death. The serpent had fallen with his body twisting as it came down. Half its head, the size of a Yugo, was floating on top of the pool water. The base of his body rest along the edge just oust side the pool and just before the swamp that outline this dreamscape. His tail yet wrapped tightly with another Boa.

As I panicked and stood staring at these two enormous reptiles, my dear old cat Sophie was swimming at the bottom of the pool desperately trying to come to the edge where I stood. I thought for certain she would be attacked but the giant reptiles just stared straight ahead, almost beyond me.

I grabbed the soaking wet ball of fur and then the dream shot moved to another place. Suddenly I was inside and in someone's bedroom looking for what, I have no clue. The room was dark, the walls dark almost as if covered in soot from a fire. The female in the bed was under white linens but was faded and I can't remember her now. We talked but I do not know what about.

Dreams are funny that way.

I woke up and found myself in a strange place with a strange person and large wound in my chest.

My  legs were tied to the bed and one of my arms dangled from the bed post with my wrist enclosed in a cuff. Without pain, I quickly squeezed my thumb until it snapped and scraped my hand out of its metal noose.

I am tired and the rest of the story will be told tonight but for now, I must tend to these wounds before they heals with a scar. And then I must return to the place I woke from and see if the man that followed me and took me can as easily get out of his noose.

The Blonde is awake now!


A Corpse Can Not Fly First Class

I got myself into a bit of a pickle it seems.

I just realized, I can't very well represent myself as the corpse for these little transactions I have set up. I can't play dead and the Necro-Madame at the same time. I also can not fly first class with cocktail service and have the warm washcloth with cucumber anti-puffy eye treatment in the luxurious comfort of the G5s succulent leather reclining seats and watch a movie. I need to set up a a coffin -icebox arrangement and fly with the Louis Vuitton set in the luggage compartment sans the comfort.

This is not exactly how I had envisioned things.

I will worry about that in a bit but for now, I have to learn how to set up an account in Zurich or some other off shore account. I prefer not to use the South American banks because you never know what drug cartel is running the banks and I might be out the lot. I much rather entrust my money to the Swiss.


I have been siting here in the cafe researching my specific situation and how properly to arrange everything and still travel and live in style. What is the point of all this money if I have to hide like a little beetle bug?

I am seriously being distracted at the moment.

There is a gentleman in the corner who is staring at me, carefully trying not to be obvious. I believe I saw him at the hotel for my first necro encounter. Perhaps its paranoia and then again perhaps it is not.

He is still staring!

I am going to pack up now and find a new spot to do my research and see if the feel of neck hair rising on my dead skin is just the the air vent I am sitting under or if someone is truly following me.

I really have not been very careful and I just suddenly realize how all terribly wrong this could go down.If discovered for my new genetic makeup...I might find myself in Area 51 with the aliens.

The Blonde might get her wings clipped!


Praise the Dead

or the undead in my case.

Chapman is singing the Blonde's soul song!


Super Riche Super Freaky

I had a great deathday. I hung out by the pool at the W and met a 1%.

If you think the super wealthy are different, you would be correct. Only, you have no idea how incredibly different they truly are.

It comes down to boredom. These people have so much money and have done sooo many things. Their one and only goal in life is to feed their need for something they can't have. And for people with this kind of stash...there is truly nothing they can not have.

Until the Blondead.

I was talking pool side to a gent who was looking for something out o the ordinary and I simply suggested...


The attraction to have sex with a corpse. I told him, I could make it happen.

He thought I was kidding.

I told him to come to room 802 and bring a stethoscope and his Swiss bank account number or cash.

He was oddly amused, somewhat bewildered, and mostly freaked and scared. It is a deadly-hard to resist combination for someone who is simply bored out of his wealthy mind.

I had many brazilian cocktails and went to my room. Around 1 AM, there was a knock.

I could not very well answer the door and play dead at the same time. If he was to come in...he merely needed to push harder on the door. I had placed a piece of the flimsy card board coaster from the water glass in the hotel room between the lock and the door jam.

I lay still on the bed with the air conditioner pumping ice cold air.

I really did not think he had the guts but, alas, I was wrong.

He came in. He pressed the cold hard metal of a medical device to my heart.

And eewwwww....


The asshole did me.

What the fu...?!!


If $50,000 cash was not laying by the bed side and I was still alive, I would be truly insulted that he did not care that I had a pulse.

But, I just found a way into a VIP money making deal with only the 1% as my clients.

I left my little black card with only a number and instruction for his friends. I have already booked two appointments each with a six figure price tag.

If you want to have sex with a gorgeous corpse, you must be beyond the law and beyond asking how much.

The BlonDEAD just found her bank!


Fat Men Float

So I did not keep the jerk under water for long. Just enough for him to drown a little bit. He floated to the top and I called 911. I am sure he is fine but he won't paw women anymore without permission.


On a happier note:

It is the one year anniversary of my funeral. I was going today to the grave to see if anyone put flowers out but I don't want to spook the one person who might show up and besides, I have to get out of town. Apparently, after the almost accidental drowning of jerk, I can't stay on the boat anymore.

I am tired of the sun and water, anyway. My skin has to be slathered with sun protection and then I have to spend an hour using a hard bristle brush to get my skin to snap back after long periods of time floating in the water.

I dry up like a raisin.

I hate raisins.

Its a dead and petrified grape!

I hated them when I was alive. I hate them more now that I am undead. They scare me. I will freak if I see a bowl anywhere.

Raisins are my kryptonite.

Anyhoo, I digress....

What will be in the back of my mind today and make me me oddly happy is knowing an investigation will be pursued in the 'attempted murder' of a dick head. And when the police go to investigate and  dust for fingerprints, all they will find is a dead person's set of prints. Its a double whammie. Not only did I scare the dickens out of a sexual predator but they will think he is crazy when they show him a picture of me and my death certificate.

Ahh hahaaha  HAHAhaaaaaaa (evil laugh)

I find this hysterical. 

Its like my own undead humor.

SO what am I going to do on my one year anniversary of mortal immortality?


I think I am going to go pool side at the new lush hotel and get my drink on. Not that I get drunk anymore but the memory of drunk is still there.  It is sort of like being that ridiculous bubble headed blonde at the age of 19 or 20 that plays drunk more than the actual drunk. It will can be fun. I think I might pick up someone staying at the hotel and play dead and spook the crap out of him.

The Blonde is going to have fun on her Happy Deathday!!


You DO Not Bully The UnDead

I am  no longer your pawn in this fucked up world. How dare you think I am nothing?

I am something, you jerk.

I was something before but I am much more now.

Do you think it ok to put women in a head lock?

Do you think it is ok to treat a women with less respect than your dog?

Who the fuck is your Mother? 

She severely screwed up in your up bringing.

I am not one you can play with, as you willed, anymore.

You do not want to mess with me. 

I have no heart nor a soul and the only compassion I have inside of me is for those who loved me unconditionally before I became an undead.

And I can count them on one hand.

So if you feel the need to continually mess with me, know this; I can topple you over the boat with me and cling to your neck as we sink into the abyss and I will be the only one coming back up for the much needed air you need to breathe.

Kind of ironic, don't you think?

I don't need the air.

And even more ironic is the fact that this warning will not reach you in time. You do not read my blog.

The Blonde wishes you well in your blissful abyss!


Even the UnDead Have Issues

I probably have more issues now than when I pretended I was alive.

My stealing a yacht has nothing to do with my pursuit of a crazy Doctor who put this curse on me as much as it does have to do with getting away with things.

I guess this is my toddler stage of being undead. Seeing what I can and can not get away with. At this point, I have no guilt nor reason to feel anything other than contempt for life.

Mine was taken and I should be on another plain of existence but rather now, I am stuck in this god for saken universe without a reason to live but I can't die.


So, I have the yacht. I have yet to figure out where the hell I am going to take it to.

But for now, I sit on the yacht and pretend it is mine and host hang outs with the weekend crowd.

It is truly funny how people are.

They will not question anyone who sits on the back of a yacht. I guess it helps that I do not have on a hoodie.

I am planning on taking this sucker out in the next few days but right now, it is just too fun watching these jerks try to be my freinds.

My favorite is the prig who was born with a silver spoon in his ass and lives off his dead Father's money. He brags about his Father's accomplishments because he really has no true ones of his own. Even his kids are dead beats waiting for their Father to drop dead and take over the money.

Loving it!!!

Maybe my issues are not as grand when you put another's context to it.

The Blonde will have to get rid of the dead weight before she launches!!!!!


Steal A yacht Just Cuz it is EAZZZZYYYY!!!

Seeing how the yachts are floating in water and fences are a bitch to build around them...just take a dingy out at midnight during the week when it is dead silent in the marinas.

Of course you have to be careful of what marina you hit because lurking around are moronic nemesis'  known as 'live-a-boards'. Losers who bought a boat and do not own a home nor do they have the tenacity to ever see their boat leave the dock. Most of the boats can't leave the dock for immense need of repair. And most of these morons are so busy getting their drink or drugs on that they are just looking for anyone to chat and they will tell you all you need to know.

Immense chuckling from me right now...

Back to story...

They will give a complete stranger-who happens to be anything female and looks like it can be screwed-the entire dish of the marina and thus opening up which boat is ripe for the taking.

Halleluiah drunken never gonna go sailing, sailor!!

The Blonde is digging you for your ripe info and..............


....do not even think about touching me!

Here!! Suck down your 7th mixed drink from hell with rum from the bottle with the naked chick on it...I am sure it is a supreme maker. (Sarcasm is alive and well in the living dead).


I have my target yacht and just a few more nights with douche of a drunk 'live aboard', and I will be golden.

I really want to tie him up with duct tape and set his 37' out to 'no where' island but like I have said...I am trying to maintain my humanity.

The Blonde...deep breathe and maintain...

I am maintaining but I am feeling this one should be drowned for fun....



Yoga breathes, yoga breathes...





still want to kill him





I will not kill

not know
but maybe


yess, yesss.yesss...

OK..I want to kill him!!!

Good therapy this yoga stuff!!!!

Yachts do come with alarms and high tech gear to detect theft and that is why I previously said I need a techno wingman. I am currently searching for one but in the


In this Life an Undead Needs a Wing Man

It is not fair!!

I am not a super hero nor a vampire and the books and movies make it seem so easy. They all have money and side kicks.

Movies suck for information. Dracula and the Highlander had money stashed from accumulation through the centuries. It is amazing they never made a bad investment deal. Could you imagine if their fortune was invested in a super ponzi scheme?

Alas, movie scripts are for entertainment and not for educational purposes and so I read Anne Rice's books.


\Again, she makes it all to easy for the undead to skirt through life with accumulated wealth.


I am undead for less than 30 years and anything I accumulated was taken from me by men that were completely wrong choices. Online dating is all about wrong choices. I am thinking about making up for that by killing some and taking their things.

I am trying hard not to go down that root and keep the bit of humanity I still feel in me but in reality, I know it is slowly slipping away. I am feeling more detached everyday.

I think if I had a wing man that could keep me connected than I will be ok for awhile.

But...and this is a giant BUT

I find it difficult that anyone would believe my condition. And the way America is dumbing down, I am not sure they could really be a useful sidekick anyway.

I have to figure out how to buy a car, a house, and be as normal as I can.

I have a young dead girl's ID but can't use it until I know its clean.

What I really need is one of those whiz black hats who can create a whole new identity for me.

Right now I have to find a country that I can set up bank accounts that ask no question and I only have two options to get to said country; by yacht or by private jet. Since I do not know how to fly and have no wing man, I am thinking yacht in an easy port.

I am not worried about the yacht situation because if I get caught I will just sink the damn boat.

I may not have super powers but being undead, I can float in an ocean forever and since I do not need water to drink and I have no blood sharks can smell. I will just drift until I land somewhere.

Hopefully that will not be the case. I just need a yacht with an owner too broke to fill the tank!

Not too hard to do these days.

The Blonde is headed to a yacht club!


Being New to the Living Dead

I know I have been dead since 1986 but what is new to me is finally accepting it.

I have lived as if it never really happened. In my mind it was all a bad dream that was produced in my psyche while I was in a coma.

I was able to keep the lie going until last year.

Having my world fall apart and having to fake a death when I am already dead is very hard.

I want to call my family and friends and say I am still here but I can't and I have no one to turn to.

Writing this blog is my only salvation now. I am only glad that I never let anyone close to me know about it.

It is not like I can go to a shrink. They would put me away for observation.

I have only you now. An unseen audience to help me deal with this.

I want to cry but I can't. I have no tears. I feel something like heartache but it is not. My heart no longer beats.

I can not explain it where a living person can understand what I am feeling but its like wanting to sneeze and you can't. The perpetual feeling of a sneeze that won't let go.

You do know that feeling, right?

You know you have to sneeze and it builds up and even if you stare in the light, you can't do it. It begins to hurt and your eyes squint and all you want to do is relieve the forced feeling.

That is what it feels like to be undead and broken away form your emotional state.

The Blonde has to go now and look for a stronger light.

The Dead Help the Dead

I have been scouring cemetaries looking for a baby that died in 1986. I found one and headed toward the office that holds birth cetificates when I stumbled upon a body. I was riding my bike around the lake to get to downtown where the birth records are held...

and there she was.

This pretty young girl, laying near the lake. At first, I thought she was just a homeless person who was asleep and I wanted to leave a few dollars by her side.

As I approached her, I thought she may not be alive. My heart did not race since I do not have a heart beat but I did feel instantly a connection to her.

I felt her.

I wanted to help her.

She can't find the light.

I went up to her.

Her spirit is standing over me. She is sad and angry and alone.

I am new to this and I do not know what to say to her. She is over me.

All I said in my mind was that, "I need you".

She smiled and then she left.

Her body was so petite, not more than 5ft. A pretty little thing that had no life left. I picked up her back pack-a well worn blue Jansport- and before I could look through it, I saw a kayak with two people coming near the shore and so, I took off.

I now have the identity I need. I know I am safe because I just found an article in the newspaper showing this young girl as a Jane Doe without dental records or finger prints on record.

Yes, you may want to hate me for this but the dead help the dead. I know you may not understand but look at it like this...

She was an organ donor but since her organs were not viable she was able to still give something. She gave me an identity so I can find the Doctor who did this to me.

I will make this up to her.....but for now,

The Blonde needs to leave this state and move on ahead!


Why the Undead Live in the Cities

  It is a new day, a new dawn for me and having to find a new identity that is age appropriate. I can see why New York and Los Angeles are attractive destinations for the undead. They have public transportation and identification is not needed unless you want to vote but the undead do not vote since they have lived long enough to understand, its a futile act for a represented constituency group that is severely under represented.

I wonder if vampires are able to get a photo id using a digital camera? Hhmm...but I digress...


Since this is my first time doing all of this undead red tape, I have to figure out how to get an id. I remember watching 'The Highlander' back in the eighties and it has some smart information in regard to roaming a cemetery looking for a young child that died in the year that I need for my new driver's license.

I guess that is where I will start.

 I do not even want to think about my next step which is housing, employment, how I am going to keep my law degree.

At least all these little details keep me busy and less depressed about leaving the family. I miss them.

I could have explained my condition to them but if you previously read any of my blog, you would know my parents would end up sending me to a loony house and my son would be thoroughly embarrassed of his crazy Mum and never speak to me again, so really maybe in twenty years when I still look the same he will believe.

I just have to find the Doctor that experimented on me 30 years ago.

But right now...

The Blonde is off to the graveyard shift.


The Problem with Death

My time line is off.

I am mixing up what happened when I was alive with stories from my death.

I did not have this problem before I was buried but than again, this is the first time I had to die for others.

I do not want to discuss what happened after the night I died but I do want to tell you what happened  that night.

In 1986, I was pregnant and I was riding in the car with my boyfriend. He had a 1969 GTO. We were coming back from a drive in movie and I told him that I was pregnant and wanted to have his baby.

It was our two year anniversary and I thought he would be happy.

To this day, I have no idea if he was happy or angry because the minute those words fell from my lips, he put full force of his leg muscle down on the gas pedal and rammed us into a brick wall.

We both died instantly but for some reason, I was kept on life support and in a coma until a baby was born and than they unplugged me.

The funny part about this story is that, my parents took the baby and left me to die and I did die but came back.

This is the part of the story I can't tell you now...

but the Blonde will, one day!

New Readers to My Blog

I can only relate dating horror stories from my past.

I died again, last year.

I deleted the posts of my impending doom and erased them all.

I should have started a new blog but like anything else, secrets boil over and it needs to be spilled.

I am spilling them.

It was a very tough year for me.

 I know longer could hide my age.

My family and friends all aged and I stayed the same.

My son started looking older than me and I knew that I could no longer stay.

I died of heart failure due to asthma and I was buried in a cemetery in a small town on the Rhine River near the border of Poland in Germany last year.

I was dug out of the ground this year.

I want to share so many stories with you accept for one:

The story of my real death in 1985.

The Blonde knows death last only a minute!


Prejudice runs A Muck Everywhere

When I was a little girl growing up in North Carolina, our elementary class went on a field trip to an art museum. There was one piece of art that stuck out in my mind and has been placed in my memory forever.

I long since forgotten who painted it but I remember it was a political painting because my teacher told us it was. At the ripe old age of 7, I would not have known its meaning nor the impact it was meant to have until now.

Trayvon Martin unlocked this memory for me.

The painting was of a Carolina shoreline with a giant ocean rippling on through and there were words painted on the sky above on a ribbon saying, "Swim Back to Africa".

When you looked in the ocean, in the painting, there were many black men swimming out to sea with a white man under each of their arms trying to swim back to Africa. I understood they would not make the journey and I understood that two white men would drown with them.

I stared and stared at that painting. I knew I liked it, I actually loved it but not for the reason you think.

My Mother and Father are from other countries and I grew up being called a pollok and a natzi. Again, I was too young to understand what that meant but I knew enough to kick someone in the balls when they said it.

I ended up in the Principal's office a few times regarding that particular issue.

I was pleased with myself each time I did. The Principal, a wonderful man who happened to be black, understood and so my penalty was a simple, "try not to do it again." I love the fact that he said 'try not' because it left me open to defend myself.

I loved that painting, not because the black man would drown but because the white men would. I was sad for the black man but held no sympathy for the white ones. 

I was bullied by anglos...and I was white, just not the right white.

This "Stand Your Ground" law is fine if someone is coming after you. I go to a university that has someone robbed at gunpoint for their smart phone, so I am all about stand your ground, but... to follow a person and provoke a fight in which you begin to loose and then shoot them...that is not standing your ground. You left your ground and walked over someone elses right to feel safe.

I believe in defending myself against others but I do not carry a gun because the weight of having to use it would haunt me.

I prefer a taser...



Oh, do not try and get up, fool!



I said don't get up.

In the end, I would want them to get up, preferably in handcuffs and knowing I thwarted an attack without killing anyone.

Stand your ground on your own turf but do not go looking for a fight you can not win and then shoot to kill.

Politicians do that and they have the aftermath on their shoulders.

The general public need not follow in their stupidity.

The Blonde


The Stare Down

I have to set the story for you or the great parts will get lost without context.

I live in a hood where homes do not fall under a million bucks. I am not bragging, just showing you country hicks can invade anywhere.

A new neighbor moved in a year ago and has since built one of those hideous barbeque slash pool house slash left no money room to build a decently high end fence. They also hung a tyco tree chair in the front yard to make sure all the neighbors know they are new parents.

We know, we just do not care.

This is not a neighborhood where anyone is neighborly. There is reason for all the fences and the homes built back from the drive.


This dick wad's Grandmother died and left the grandchildren a pretty penny and so he and his wife were able to afford the house and the remodel and now think their wad does not stink--sort of like the Kardashians but on Texas steroids.

Oh yes, one more thing...

It is in my opinion, this is that guy, back in college, who liked getting girls drunk to the point of oblivion and having sex with them while they were unconscious and then brag to his buddies that he just banged the hot chick from chem class.

OK setting complete, now for the story:

Come 4th of July we bought fireworks to celebrate a very special soldier's first 4th of July since his return from the middle east--and no I will not capitalize a geographical area where woman are considered expendable but  I digress....

Not the second pop of a firecracker went off  before this bloated-belly, bourbon, drinking, dick wad comes over...

"Uh, y'all need to pack it in. I have a kid I need to lay down and sleep."

By the way this was at 9pm at night and remember only one firecracker went off.

I also had some some Shiners in me and booya, my mouth had some fireworks of its own.

"Fuck you and the hillbilly horse you rode in on and get the F...off my property! These soldiers just got back from Afghanistan and they don't sleep until after midnight. It is one night a year...Maybe instead of the fancy barbeque, you should have saved up for double pane windows and sound proof walls for hillbilly junior."

Seriously, we bought $150 worth of fireworks that would not last more than 15 minutes. This dick could have stuck it out.

"Hey, I was just trying to be a gentleman," dick wad said.

My response, "No your not. A gentleman would have introduced himself and ask politely but this is your second time coming over here demanding something, you have no business to demand. Now get your fat ass off my property"

Before all this happened, anytime his wife drove by in her gas guzzling, I am a true, Texas, Bush loving, dislike Obama because he is a Muslim Republican Chevy Suburban.....she never once looked my way. She always turned her head but today...

Guess who gave me the stare down?!


Wife of Bourbon Billy!!!

I just kept looking at her  with that look of "Really?" It was two weeks ago and you still have a hard on for me? I was over you with the echo of my last F you to your husband.

The problem with Americans is we don't tell people what we feel.  I do but most do not and so that sentiment just starts stewing in their little heads and it comes out in stupid passive aggressive ways.

I much rather someone roll down there window and let's get a verbal get on and than be done with it.

We now both no where we stand. I don'[t like you. You do not like me. Let's agree to ignore each other like we always have.

But stare downs from now on, really?


The Blonde will start getting her middle finger ready for some flicking action!!!


When a Man Loves a Woman

Andy Garcia makes me melt every time I watch him in any movie.  But the one movie that makes me fall to my knees praying I could find a man like him is when he plays the character in "When a Man Loves a Woman".

I know its is just a movie but lately that is what I use to fill my heart with. I can't find it so I watch it in films. I watch the romantic, perfect. made for movies and not at all like real life love I crave.

I craved it so much that I fell for an italian race car driver that said all the right things in the beginning and I fell for it.

And then his words started to fall away from the man he really was and so I fell away from him.

His accent was cute in the beginning but when he started to talk about things less romantic, his voice started to sound like nails scraping on the proverbial chalkboard.

For the following statements, use an Italian accent in your head.....

" My wife was not good looking."

"I do not know why I married her"

Are you sticking to the Italian accent in your head?

"I am so kinky and my wife would not allow me another woman. I think you and I should have another woman with us."

"You know my Mother was an italian model but she married such an ugly man. "

"I love women so much. I adore them and love making love with them. I think we should try anal sex. I think you would really like iiiitttt." 

"You know when I lived in South Africa, I lived with two girls and we made love together and they wanted to have my babies."


OK..you can kill the italian accent. It is me again.

What a pratt!!

He was italian but drove stock cars and he sucked at it. Never made it in the top 10 position sin any race. he had two accidents and said he quit.

Yeah right...

I think the sponsor ditched your loosing streak.

By the way, women are following the sponsor and ditching you left and right.

After all, you did show me all the photos of the pretty girls who no longer found your accent any more attactive than I did after your word vomit about anal sex.

The Blonde hates Italian anyway...too many carbs and no substance to keep me going!!!!!!



Dexter of Serial Daters

I was contemplating going back on the dating sites and picking out grossly inflated profiles and picking off the little liars Dexter style. Albeit that would interfere with my plans to graduate from law school if I get caught. But on the bright side, I could defend myself in court if I ever get caught and I could play the Sharon Stone's character in Basic Instinct.

Why would someone write about killing and then kill in the exact manner that she writes?

I think just a well plotted smear campaign against the atrocity of serial daters on Match should do the trick in warning women and men that they could be victim to assholedness.

For instance:

My last date of last year involved a bipolar freak who stole my brand new pair of union jack printed jeans I ordered specifically from London, at a pretty penny to me.

Why did he take my pants? He took them as leverage, saying that I owed him a $2000 for the two weeks we went out. The food and drink tab he wanted repaid.

What a WANKER!

I am 5'9" and 128 lbs. If I could eat and drink a thousand dollars worth of food in a week; I would be extremely thrilled with that kind of wicked, awesome metabolism...

but that was not the case.

We went out a few times and maybe a couple hundred greenbacks were left at the restaurants but the rest of the time he and his brother cooked dinner and lunch with amazing amounts of carbs.

They consumed amazing amounts of scotch and wine.

I ate very little and drank my Shiner. Hardly a thousand dollar pallet.


He has my pants and I ordered a new pair.

But do not think for a minute that I did not dream up fabulous ways of breaking into his house with a taser gun and waking him up in the middle of the night to scare the pants right off of him. Alas, it was only dreaming. In reality I had to succumb to the fact that he probably gave my pants to his next victim.

I wonder what he will take from her?

The girl before me lost her antique make-up table that he kept and let his new girlfriends use but she lasted 2 months. I am glad I got out early and off easy.

La Blonde says "C'est la vie, thief"!!!!


I am at a Crossroad

I have reached that point in life where I no longer look outward but inward. My life is nothing more than introspection right now. This thought only comes from the feeling that I am missing something.

I used to fill that feeling of missing something by searching for a man but that never seemed to pan out and got only worse the more I searched online.

I sometimes blame the internet dating sites for killing my dream of love.

And that sometimes thought is a reaffirmed every time I make the mistake of trying it again.

I no I said I would quit and I have.

I believe I should start a dating anonymous 12 step program for people who were suckered into the thought that anyone on those sites were worthy of true commitment.

A 12 step program for the hopeless romantic that was disenfranchised and lost self esteem due to disgusting displays of worth based on nothing more than superficiality.

I have been sober from dating sites for more than a year and the next few stories you will read are offered to you as a warning.

Get sober and boycott match.com and other dating sites.

Let us start a grass roots movement to kill online dating and get back to the fundamentals of courting.

The Blonde wants Match to loose their game!!!


My Dating Profile

About Me
I am just signing in to look at the fish bowl so I am using lyrics for my 100 word quota

Now tell me, how's
life in the big city?

I hear the competition's
tough, baby that's a pity
And every man's an actor
every girl is pretty
I don't like what's
getting back to me

I am not a hypocrite nor a manipulatist...if I say I am never going to meet you..than I am never going to meet you.
if you want to banter online for a bit, fine, but other than that...forget me!

First Date
don't want one...using this site purely for late night entertainment when I can not sleep and too tired to read a book.

Thank you, Thank you for supplying me smiles and laughs before I sleep.

I love fiction and short stories and my favorite author is Roald Dahl.

I can read 20 profiles on this site and see the tragedy all wrapped up in less than a paragraph.....its brilliant and Roald Dahl would love this....

How sad is it to report the Blonde is getting replies?


Long Time Coming

In the grand tradition of divas like Cher, Barbara Streisand, and Brett Favre, I have decided to come back from the dead for one more show.

I am going back to the original Veronica Bell and the tradition of bad dates and dysfunctional relationships and other stories in between.

So let's start this revival party off with a big bang and talk about Martha Stewart's stint on Match.com. I personally believe it is a stunt to help promote her nephew-in-laws new book, "Love in the age of Algorythms" but if she does go through a few of the dating motions, I can't wait for her own book.

Being famous should put a whole new spin on the dating algorithms.

And at a ripe old age of 71, the pickings should be more than slim since most men her age that use online dating are only interested in younger models. Her money and fame should pull out a lot of men willing to be her bitch and that is the part of the book I will be most interested in.

The Blonde has signed up for a second tour of blog duty!!


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