Cleaning house and going back to Blonde

Sorry Y'all

 I got totally bored with the death scene, so that is all deleted - well not deleted because it will make an awesome story one day.

I and coming back in full form. All my pretty, little blonde locks are ready to tell their tale!

And fucking Grammarly, where were you when I started this shit? No more typos except for the ones their algorithms miss. (they missed accept, I caught it bitches...thanks, Gramz)

The Blonde is back in the building!


So You Got Trumped

I have been living the life of everyone else these days.


Work hard and get nowhere.

That is what my life has become after that laughter incident.

If I can experience something like laughter, am I still dead? I kept asking myself that.

And for a while, I actually convinced myself that I was getting better and that I was becoming alive again.

And so I blended in and became normal.

It is why I have not posted in so long.

The Dead Blonde is having a non-life crisis


I have changed occupations

No longer do I find it funny to play the dead hooker for necrophilias.

And quite frankly, the last time I played it...I ended up laughing.

Me, laughing!!!

How the hell did that happen.

Definitely not because I felt a tickle but very large sense of amusement that rushed over my dead and cold body and actually made me laugh.

Weird. I never did that before.

Certainly gave the gentleman a fright. He went to call the police and will I could not be locked up in a morgue so I had to banish him.

No worries, you will not miss him. he was one of the 1% who lived abroad and fighting extradition.


I need my coffin for a new occupation.

I am a money mover.

I can book flights for my coffin and place money under the satin silk lining. Dogs do sniff but when they open the lid, BAM!!

They see me.

A few have freaked. Not the dogs...the guards.

Many stare and say what a pretty corpse I am. And how sad it was I died so young.


Tends to get around the airport security circuit and security is less inclined to disturb the dead anymore. I am jut another dead chick in a coffin with a flight tag in a luggage compartment holding millions in diamonds, gold and cash.

I can only do this until I have hit all the airports...a duplicate visit would surely be noticed.

My minion is still with me. Vlad...what would I do with out the little gremlin?

A modern day dead smuggle I am

I am enjoying the job.

I get paid well and if I am crossed?

Well, that would be stupid.

Who would cross me and live to tell the tale?

Cartel deaths you read in the paper. Missing money.


Well, I speculate just like you.

The Blonde has not ventured into Mexico yet but I guess I should hurry.

I hear the Mexicans are building a wall to keep Trump out.

PS. The blonde needs to get back to work.

Catch you later alligatorous minds!


What makes you unique?

Is it not funny that there are websites out there trying to tell you how to answer this question?

What makes you unique is a difficult question indeed.

But you have to answer this one on your own without guidance or help, otherwise it is just a guided answer and not truth.

I do not have a difficult time answering that question these days. I know what makes me unique.

BUT and a giant BUT...but...

What made me unique before all this happened to me?

What made me....me?

I liked building things without looking at the instructions.

 I liked bringing computers that most said were dead, back to life.

I liked that I never gave up



uncomfortable quiet

The Blonde thinks uncomfortable quiet is best over ignorant political arguments on Facebook.

Get the fuck over it. Your team lost. Do you still have your job? Your family? Does your candidate losing the election really change anything for you?

Grow up and get real!

The Blonde is sick of the rhetoric!


Hello Mortal Kit Kats

I have been dormant a long time but it is time to come back out of my coffin and hit the world again with a veracious appetite for mortal evil.

I did spend time underground trying to subdue my appetite for babies souls. I went to Tibet for awhile and found I am selective in the souls of babies that I feed off of. Tibet children will always be safe from my hunger. Which means I can control this part of me.

Most flavorful souls come from bad parents who will raise bad children and I find most, surprisingly enough, not all in the westernized states. I find my best souls in the hospitals located in.....

Well, let me not give you a google map of my feasts, for that would alert authorities and I must keep a low profile.

I do still love the taste of corrupt polizia...and feel it does good to take a few out unnoticed.


I am headed to Paris and Milan. I need to shop for new clothes and I see the eighties are back. Why?

I will be back in the states in the blink of a dead eye and have lots to talk about.

Did I mention I became a Countess of several countries before retreating into my coffin cubbie?

Blondead is Back!!!



The Blonde is working through it.......been gone a long time..but I am back.


Plot 183

Everyone I love is in lot 183.

I pass the trees and the brooks along the winding road in the old section of the cemetery but the road begins to stretch out, straight and long toward my family plot and I reach the new section that is just rows of mortar.

I was buried here first. I used to visit my singular grave stone but now more have joined. Only they do not see what I do.

I can't see them or speak to them.

This plot of my family....marked by a single tree and marker 183


The Day has Come

I have outlived all my family...the last one died a few weeks ago.

I won't say who.

I won't say why.

I won't say anything other than goodbye.

My heart would be broken beyond repair

but since it has no beat

only memory serves to conjure despair

It is the same feeling an amputee feels. The pain of an appendage long gone but pain resides some where in the brain.

I have been alone for many years but always had the hope of reuniting; now that is gone.

Alone is really all alone.

Hope is for no reason.

I am at a complete loss and have no hunger any more; not even for fat police officers...and they were always my comfort food.

Mourning for a bit but will be back as always...I have a life that will not expire so you can be quite comforted in the fact that this blog will last longer than you.