Bumble is leftovers from Tinder

Bumble is no better than Tinder.

As a matter of fact, most of the men you see on Bumble are Tinder rejects.

I spent a few weeks with one guy, who tried so hard to put the past behind him that he could not sit still.

All the yoga in the world can not help this person's PTSD.

He has a lot on his plate.

I feel for him, but I am not going to be the transition girl while he works things out.

Every conversation leads to the ex-wife or the ex-girlfriend that cheated on him.

I am not going to be that girl who wants to listen nor engage in this co-dependent nightmare.

I am sorry you were hurt by other women. And I am sorry your anger continues.

But most importantly, I am angry that you feel it necessary to regulate my behavior based on your past relationships.

And you are a total dick for telling me all about the golf tournaments and parties you were invited to or went to and rubbed it in my face after the fact.

 What the fuck is wrong with you angry yoga man?

You don't deserve an alias on my page. You can stay 'angry yoga man' prick!

That is your shit to own. Do not project it on to me.






 I do not like a man that looks at women and grades their potential, as a girlfriend, based on how willing she is to give head at a moments notice or accommodate a karma sutra fucking style that only leaves the man with an orgasm.

Namaste, angry yoga man.

Never regulate the Blonde!!!


P.S. Don't ever put your hand on my head and push me down to give you head unless you want your dick bit off.

How do you remove yourself from the web?

So you and I and many others have fucked up more than once or ten times in our life. Does it mean we have to look at it every time we google our name for the duration of our life?

The funny thing is, this is not about me. I have a lot to hide but I hide it well.

But, there are those that do not have the same web-savvy-ness to keep their shit off the web.

So how do you clean up your mess on the web so it does not follow you around for the rest of your life?

Stay tuned...I will clue you in.

The blonde has someone else's shit to clean up for a change!

Male Rompers?

Will you date a guy who wears a male romper?

I doubt this new trend is going to hit the status quo anytime soon. If you remember, they were pushing man bags a few years ago and I don't see too many men sporting that trend.

But one can hope to see a plethora of men in rompers on the Tinder circuit. It certainly would add to the humor I see when flicking to the left and right for fun.

Actually, the romper lends itself to easier manipulation when it comes to men relieving themselves as opposed to a woman.

A man does not need to unbutton the entire garment and squish it down around his knees as he navigates the public, potty portal.

I say go for it men!

Let's kick it off with Tinder bitching

What F----? is Tinder all about.

Swear to God, there are some butt ugly dudes, and not just ugly but look like they have been riding hard and shooting pics of themselves in drunken stoopers in their bathroom.

IS this how you get a woman?

No, it is not!

I am getting carpel tunnel syndrome from swiping so many times to the left, I need surgery now.

Geezuz, wash your freakin' hair dudes - greasy, alcoholic doesn't look good on anybody.

Stop taking pics of you, in your bathroom mirror.

Stop taking pics next to a Ferarri you don't own. If you ain't sittin' in it. You don't own it.

Do I need to play the scrub song for you?



And clean your apartment or bathroom before taking those sad little pics of yourself in the mirror.

Contradictory at best and some just down right sad.

Another thing.....

Over 40 and holding a kid in diapers, does not sweeten the pot for chicks who pay their own way in this world.

So stay out of our age district.

The blonde is back to bitch!

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.

Normal.

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.

Anyhoo,

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.

Anyhoo,

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.

Hmmmmm..

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

quiet

quiet

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.

Anyhoo,

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!!!

Scars

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.

Letting the Pain Go

Being undead has its perks...love is never the issue these days!

I see Glimpses of the Life I wanted

I wish I knew how to reconcile them with my new thoughts.

I guess like anyone who goes through a life change wisdom begins to set in and we learn to live or die trying.

It is time to start smiling again.

I am going back in my casket and travelling the world for this summer.

Stay tuned!

The Witching Hour

My favorite time of the day...or to the living your night.

This is when I come alive and begin my search for truth.....

The days I used to live...bad, worse but in some ways almost amazing...

and if you believe that, I have some swamp to sell you.

My dead is better than my past life

Oops...I have some freinds visiting me tonight...if you remember from a while ago my Bentley casket was confiscated in Europe...my new freinds have brought it back to me


so voila...


again tomorrow late at night when killing is easiest do I return

Don't be Like me...Don't Let Life Be Your End

Don't forget to feed my fish...someone will have to when I go.....

Oh yes the undead have a choice to live and die just like you....only I know where my atoms will go

Even a Donkey Knows You Have to Save Itself

Rehan Allahwala

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.

As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

MORAL :
Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.

2. Free your mind from worries - Most never happens.

3. Live simply and appreciate what you have.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less from people but more from yourself.

Life Seems so Inevitable

Every night we go to bed crying and hoping for a better life. We think about dying until we re actually dead and then all we think of is what could have been.

But what could have been only exists in our fantasy. Life is what life is, right?

We were born under either a lucky star or one that was very unlucky.

The lucky ones have it so easy. 

For the unlucky ones, we cave to internal hate and disgust. We are too old to blame our parents, even though they are to blame for almost everything.

No child was ever born a bad child. No child was ever born lacking self esteem or confidence unless....

They stood alone when ever they were hurt.

And many of us were hurt. I am not alone and neither are you.

I have the freedom to write about this now because nothing shames me any more. Nothing hurts me any more.

But it stills hurts you. I hear the ache in your hearts as you try to fall asleep and all the world is coming down on you.

Where will you live? Where will you find food? Where will you find anyone to love you and take care of you before it is too late?

I would say one day it will be better but you know better than that.

So I will say good night and tomorrow will be another wretched day but keep the faith...at least your not dead like me....if you take a chance you could feel something.

Fight to feel or come to my side....no hunger, no taste, no thirst,no passion....no nothing other than games with people as my little rats

As a Little Girl Did you Ever feel Like this?

Let them all be caged!!!

Feed my fish...that is all I ask!

The Undead have no sense of timing

nor a sense of reasoning or maybe we do....

what do I care what you humans think. You all are so self centered, it is almost ridiculous until I think that God does play with you like ants...he has the giant magnifying glass and hones in on almost anyone for no reason at all and can crush your world just for fun.

Do you find it funny to love a God that does not love you?

You can't love someone if you do not exist!

All you do to honor him is based on the words written by people who made him up and created his name to control you!

When you die...you die and your carcass disperses into millions of tiny atoms and those atoms will find others and reform and you will be reborn.

This is how our world works...one big bubble of a certain amount of atoms and they die and are born but they never change in number in the whole existence as we know it.

We are a bubble forever more!

I can't go anywhere...my atoms are locked here in some cruel fate. And so are yours!

So is my cat; only my cat knows he has other lives to live and he will come back to my son in one form or another.

Heaven is only a dream my friends and only few get to live it!

Life is best served living here, living now!

My Cat Died

I knew he was dying. An undead can feel it. I felt it from far away and wanted to see him and my son. God I can't seem to recall the days, the months or the years I have been gone.

I just know I had to be there. Watching silently as a dog broke free from his leash and went after Goose.

I watched from afar as my Mother tried to fend off the beast with bush clipping spears. I watched the owner hold back her 80 lbs white dog, rabid with taste for my dying old cat as the brown dog, free from his leash took to tormenting my son's 20 year old cat that was hoping only for some peace and a little bit of sunlight before his impending death. An attack was never part of the plan.

I watched from afar as my son came to the house. I lingered outside without him knowing I was there. Being dead is being invisible, you can be wherever you want and no one sees you.

The pain of watching him relive another death crushed me and I was unable to comfort him. His heart was broken in two and his tears flooded the fur of his beloved cat as he whispered in his ear that it was OK to go. The cat trying to be so strong and brave trying to raise his head and my son's large hands coddling the delicate and small head of his once viking prince of a cat.

Crushed by forces...both my son and his prized beast....

and what do we get from the stupid woman who let her stupid 8 year old hold a leash of a beast twice her size?!

GUSTAF VALDIMIR BLACK CAT...HAIL THEE!!!!

I thought having an non-beating heart and ice cold veins could never undo me but tonight I have been undone.

Tonight I feel the rage again and tonight, I want to kill.....


Blindead by Blonde has some reckoning to attend too!  And fuck you dog owners...eye for an eye when a cat dies by their jaw!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had Thoughts Today about Dying

It is not like I can not cease to exist; an undead can cease to exist....she just needs to set herself on fire and let every atom of her body evaporate into the circle of energy we call the earth system.

But I am not ready to cease existence. I want very much to stay here and watch over my son.

And while this is my most admirable pursuit and quite frankly the only one; I have some dark ones that I would like to continue to delve into.

These darker pursuits would be the bad men that we all know exist and many of us have had the unfortunate displeasure to run into. I do not mean to go all 'Thelma and Louise' on y'all but I think that story tells it all and offers up some true advice; that one gun shot can snuff out a bad man and stop the heartache for many women.

You can be so perfect and so sweet and that sweetness is resented by men. If you want to be with a good man than you need to be strong and unwilling to yield.

The bitches in this world get everything...the mouse scours the ground for little bits of whatever is left.

Do not be a mouse!!

I was a mouse once and it got me into many bad places where I coward in the corner. Now that I am undead, the fear is no longer with me and I can take my revenge.

I do not suggest you follow pursuit of my final hour but I do want you to live life and be well.

The first rule to gain control of men is knowing that you have the power. You have something they want and porn and hand jobs will not satisfy them. They need you and they want you and the more you make them wait and tease them....the more they will beg.

We were all young once and we inadvertently teased men without knowing how much power that held. Have we lost that now that we are a little older? Of course we have and do you know why?Because someone told you not to be a prick tease because guys don't like that. Guess what gender was spreading that gossip? One guess only, but I bet you do not get it wrong!

Being a prick tease is the very essence of your power over men. Read up on some famous french courtesans and see how much they acquired in their lifetime for being smart and strong and ignoring the rhetoric of men!!!

I will post some writing of the most famous courtesans in the world but for now, the movie 'Cheri' with Michelle Pfeiffer will get your studying started.

I will make sure before I go up in flames that I will rise like a phoenix and create stronger, better, smarter women who will break the men that think they have all the power over us.

Now, I have to go...it is a full moon tonight and I always enjoy killing one bad man in the moonlight.

Death only becomes the virtuous. Ahhh...guess that is why I remain undead!

Are You Crazy if You Say So?

They say your are not crazy if you say you are. Am I?

I am crazy and saying it does not make me any less crazy.

Of course being dead makes it easier to say.

I guess the right statement is that I was crazy but now I am just undead.

I had a right to be crazy when I was alive. bad things happened to me from early on that just seemed to punish me my entire living life.

Now I can talk about it because nothing phases me anymore.

SO let me share why being undead is better than living.

I was young and made a stupid bet with some teens. They bet me that they could ride over me on their bikes and I would flinch. I was arrogant and said no I won't.

They said if I flinch, I had to get in the car with them. It was two teenage boys and one teenage girl.

Well, I did flinch and so I paid up on the bet. I was 7 and did not really know what the cost was until I got in the car.

To this day I do not remember past the teenage girl holding me down in the back...I draw a complete blank,,,but I do not think it was.....

Well, whatever it was, it was the catalyst to my demise and one I never did recover from.....

Being dead and being able to kill people without remorse must have something to do with that day.

I wasn't the only little girl who got stuck in a car but I was the only little girl who got to leave breathing.

Devil or not the Devil

So how do I choose?

Now it is easy because I have crossed that threshold and no heaven is an illusion but many years ago while I was alive I had choices and made the wrong ones each time.

So, how do I teach you to not make the same mistakes I have?

Well, let me tell a story that may help.

Once upon a time...

cheeky yes but well deserved in my situation...

again,

Once upon a time there was a woman who had her choice of men and chose unwisely each time.

First she chose a man for money over a man who loved her and bought a pretty little sapphire ring and she thought nothing about it other than to pawn it to pay a bill.

Then karma hit her like a bat out of hell and all that she thought was it was worth it for the few years of peace from the fear of having no money comes from,  but it was crushed and pummeled beyond anything she ever imagined because as much as she tried to love the man, he knew she did not.

Loyalty and love turned in a horrible direction when he she refused to give any more of herself at the man's whim in the bed.

He took my home...

I said "Over my dead body. I will burn it to the ground before you get one penny."

Courts take these kind of statements to heart and it was enough to finds me behind a cage.

That woman, me, was locked away in an insane asylum while the man she thought would take care of her forever pieced away her life.

True story my friends....

I was locked away for over a year while the world took everything away from me.

When  I got out, I had nothing and no where to go.

I remember walking with my silly little suitcase filled with nothing but cotton t's and a few pair of pants.

I walked from the asylum two miles down to a Wal Mart to call the only number I had burnt in my mind.

And what is funny is that, I can't remember that number any more or who I called or how I got back back home. I say a home but it was not mine...I was reminded about that every day I lived there.

All I remember is the punishment did not fit the crime.

Give me a bit to remember.... after all....I have been dead a long time and my old life is hard to remember

The blondead will write again....I promise

Stray with me for just a little bit...

I may not be here much longer but while I am....I have some good advice for you girls

and warnings for you men


.

The unDead Dance

Validation

I was sitting by my gravestone the other day and 'Whaaaa?!!" happened but an ex boyfriend who was stupid enough to leave me showed up at my stone while I was there.

He didn't see me..that is one of the things going on in this undead thing..I figured out I can see everyone and they can see me unless they loved me.



The ones that love me, I am a ghost.

Kinda cool from my perspective because I can remain close.

Anyhoo,

I feel like a kid who was given up for adoption and the Mamma hunted me down...

Affirmation!!!

Awesome!!!!

Thank you Ex...I don't why this makes me smile...I have no emtion, just thiis giant fucking ssmile on my face....

Semper Phi Dude

Really?!! No flowers for my grave?!!

Douche!

It is all good in a dead Blonde's world

Booya...Back Again

Taking on a new form and the transition has been odd.

I am stuck in the 80's wanting nothing but vintage stuff...clothes, cars, men with whipped wing hair....

I look good for dead...28 until forever is not so bad...I can live with it...

be a slut forever can be cool!!

I am still stuck between killing peeps and fucking them...but eventually I will find my purpose...I am pretty sure it won't be a super hero but it will be something....

 I will let you know...stay in touch;)



By the way..the Continental Club in Houston sucks...the music was too fucking loud and uncool...Fitzgeralds is the place to hang if your undead and have sensitive ears to the sound of music!

Blonde dead bitch is out!!

Still waiting for fire and ashes

I am over the anger phase and now just calm and quiet and waiting until that moment where the world ceases to exist as I know it....

I have traded in killing for some sexual devencies but it still does not feed my destructive mode.....

I will find something that does.

BTW...i finally got around to claiming my coffin from customs...

The story llater

The blonde is being a busy biatch

Go Away!!!

Fuck!!

Stop it!!

The dark cloud tht came my way has left but I felt it while it was here.

It cast grey over everything.

I forgot that I wanted to e good and I went to the darker force and he...
He just has a way of pulling me into the dark grey abyss.

I am sorry for the fat cop killing. I feel bad I was angry about them.

I apologie but I reall yam not sorry.


Certain cops are mean and they pick on those who have not been in trouble and seem to get off on it so....I

alright

I am not sorry

I liked killing the fat cop

but now

the dark cloud has left

He is not here anyomore and I want to do good


ad I mean good without killing

You ave to forgive me for struggling

I had to leave my family, freinds, home, life because I was not growing old properly.

When your kid is the same age as you biop-metrically...

It does not make sense,

SO yes,
I arbor anger....

I hate to see my son cry at my tombstone.

I told him not bury me...I aksed that I be forgotten but he can't

and I see him every time when he visits a grave that is empty and all I want to do

is tell him

MOMMY is HERE

I am HERE

but I can't and so
OK a bloody mess for a biit

I am still pissed about my coffin and the stupid Duke and his bitchy wife...

I don't know my place

I don;t know where I belong and I have no friends and my
wing man had to go...

he told too many people and I had to kill him


Oh fuck......I am sorry..I wish I knew how to kill myslef so this could be all voer but everything I have tried has failed

Undead out for now....


PS..I could care less about proper writing so you dicks that send me typo errors...join my kill list!!!!!

Pandora's Box

One evil deed leads to another.

Do you want to be good?

Because I am tired of the bad and I know you may look at me like I am evil but I am not.

I am going through an adjustment period.

Yes, I kill people just because I can.

But I only kill the ones that you would not like any way.

It is hard being undead and knowing I don't worry about the law any more. The law was always an asshole anyway.

You think they are bad? The whole psych genre is on my 'to die list'.

Anyhoo....

back to fat ass cops....

Seriously, how can you eat donuts, be 300 lbs and chase someone down?

You can't.

So the obese stupid fucks wait for an easy target.

You can pull someone over for an expired sticker to get your quota.

Well guess what?!

I like killing the fat ones...they are my easy target!!!!

Like I said, I am going through an adjustment period but I promise only to kill the ones that are most  irritating to the living!!!

Fee Fi Fo Fum

OK? Seriously? 

A fairy tale beginning for my blog? 

Anyhoo...

I am concerned for a few people who may have a problem with my certain condition.

I do not want to hurt anyone who does not deserve it.

But.....

I can't have 'curious cathies' who are a little too intent on saving me or saving others from getting in my fanny pack.

Again?

Seriously?

Would I ever carry a fanny pack?

Although, I doubt it would be stolen as quickly as customs stole my decked out coffin!!!

Yes!!

You are damn right I am still pissed about it!

I am going to the beach and hitting some surf and board and will not kill anyone for now.

BUT

Check back...

I might want to hit the murderabilia guy...

Help this clueless victim's crime advocate out before I do.

Who can't figure out how to stop murderabilia from being sold and collected?

Here is a clue...

.GALLON OF GAS AND A MATCHSTICK!!

The undead is off to the coast before the storm hits the fan....

He comes in Thursday.

Murderablia

Have you ever heard of such a term?

Quite gross if you think about someone collecting finger and toenails as a souvenir from a serial killer.

But who I am to question what is art to some and a meaningful reminder to others?

I should have kept something from the Doctor but I prefer pop art.

Anyhoo,

Thursday, a dark cloud is rolling into my city.

The last time he shared space near me; many things died and a flood occurred in a hundred year flood zone.

Literally, not figuratively, little animals fell out of trees and died and I was useless to save them.

But that was in another life.

I do not know how I feel about it now since I am undead and the world is a cruel beast I am no longer apt to save.

I am free from those things now.

Things like empathy, care, and sadness.

What rips through my heart now is an uncontrollable urge to ignore all that once touched me.

This dark cloud is coming my way and I do not want to see the storm.....

Even the undead can not out run the past.....

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Itsy bitsy spider got washed out by the rain

but out came the sun

 and dried up all the drain

 and itsy bitsy spider cralled out in time to kill again

From Cymera

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.

SO...


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...

OOPS...

Baum!!

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.

Anyhoo,

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.

Well!!

Ooops!!

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.

Anyhoo,

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.

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.

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.

No.

No.

No.

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.

Until....

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!!

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...

Ziiitttt.

ZZZZiiiitttt

Oh, do not try and get up, fool!

ZZZi.Zi

.ZZZiIziIzzziz

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.

Anyohoo,

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?!

Yeah,right?!

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?

OK..Fine!


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."

Ughhhhh....

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.

Anyhoo,

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....


BRAVO!

 

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!!

HOO-RAH!