#metoo to the nth degree

I am so tired of opportunists using the #metoo movement to further their political rhetoric, or
dumb-ass twenty somethings saying they were uncomfortable because some sniffed their fucking hair.

I am dedicating the next 10 blogs to the real #metoo movement.

I am going to tell you every dirt bag move made from dicks starting in the 90s and following up on #onlime dating that finally broke my spirit in finding love.

I have saved every email, text and photo...
Married men should be fucking scared!

The way I remember the bad shit, is by a song that triggers every memory.

I work hard to forget them...but you can't erase the bad. And the sad thing is, trying to find the good never helps.

So my dear #russiangirl #koreanboytoys #sexsworkers #waitingtodie let me share some light on your story by telling my own.

No one started off as a 6 year old princess and ended up being nothing more than skin to touch and and a vagina to fuck.

My trigger tonight was #EltonJohn 'Yellow Brick Road'...the last song I would ever hear before knowing and remembering, that I had a soul that was robbed by dirty, fucking, loser men touching me.

I never wished them dead, but I do now. I hold no vengeance, just hope they will die a slow death remembering what they did to kill a girl.



Almighty God

Thank you for my music!

Fuck religion that tells women they need to cover up because men can't control themselves.

Fuck you little cockroaches of Shariah law!


Still Me, Not Giving Up on Shit!!

Fuck you world!! I am not surrendering!


I am not the only one out here alone.


What Up with the Fucking White?

Sorry y'all, something is amiss with my template..will correct this weekend. The #white is pissing me off!

Sorry You Thought We Could Be Friends Again

Because when I look back...because we never were.

I am not that person from back then. I have struggled and worked hard to move on and build a new life. It has taken me years longer than I thought, but I am finally doing it.

I do not want to go back in time. You have not moved on in your life in any way and I do not want to revisit that world.

You wear your poverty like a badge of honor. I think it is Patty's fault for her music making it seem so honorable. But in reality, it is just a stagnant life that does not show much purpose other than to show how sad life can be.

I truly am sorry for interrupting your life, but I am not going down in this life without fighting. And your complacency with being where you are is sad to me.

I really was hoping that I would find you happy and that you built a beautiful world for yourself with that house.

I truly hope and wish you find a way to be happy, but it can not be with me in your world.

Do not try to contact me, I am already gone. And I will not apologize for that.



Sa·Yo·Na·Ra Old Life

I miss old friends. I wish things could have been different but I am changing and with it a new attitude and have to let go of those that see the old me.
This is not an AA thing.
Still love my wine, only I buy better bottles now and sip.
The day, I become complacent in my life is the day you can carve out these words into my headstone:
"Here lies a chick who gave up...who cares about her because she didn't bust her ass to make a mark in this world except for this stupid headstone".

BlindedbyBlonde is still here, just in a 5.0 version.


The Morbid Sense of my Blog

Is there wisdom here? If there is, it is diluted and strange and only makes sense to me.

I played a dead hooker that placated to the European riche that would abuse a dead body because it was the only thing they have not done yet.

I put myself out there in so many odd ways, and yet I do not care. This is my blog, my diary, my fantasy and my way to throw out all the junk I hate about me, the world, and other stuff.

Right or wrong, it is mine, and no one in my 8 degrees of separation know about it. If they did, they would ruin ti for me.

So I keep this blog under the bed, locked away and open when I need to write on it. There is no rhyme or reason to my stories. One minute they are about a dead person, the next about a very live and struggling human being looking for a way to be better and escape the trap I am in,

A trap I created for myself built on years of programming and environment gone wrong.
I am getting better at seeing people for who they really are. I get caught up sometimes and forget. SO I tug on what ever bracelet I have added to my wrist to cover the scar and remind myself, that you need to watch out girl. No matter how old you are, you don;t think like the assholes and they are much more brilliant than I am at manipulation.

UI will one day, know just how to poker face this world.

One day the blonde will have it all figured out.

At least in time to come up with a brilliant quote for the epitath.