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I think he will pay up considering I have his correspondance and video-unpublished.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

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