Recently turned 22 and expecting this year to be the most crazy year of my life, just like the last 22 others. I have a nameless insomniac fish and not enough memory cells.I find ''vulve'' to be the funniest French word and I can't grow an avocado tree for shit.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up
where I intended to be.
This is one of the sickest serial killer story I've ever read.... a nipple belt?!?!?! What wouldn't you do for fashion these days!
Born at the turn of the century on August 27,1906 in the city of La Crosse, Wisconsin to George And Augusta Gein.The Geins ran a small grocery store in La Crosse until 1914 when Augusta the head of the household decided to move the family into the small farming community of Plainfield, Wisconsin, Gein lived a repressive and solitary life on his family homestead with a weak, ineffectual brother and domineering mother who taught him from an early age that sex was a sinful thing. Eddie ran the family's 160-acre farm on the outskirts of Plainfield until his brother Henry died in 1944 and his mother in 1945. When she died her son was a thirty-nine-year-old bachelor, still emotionally enslaved to the woman who had tyrannized his life. The rest of the house, however, soon degenerated into a madman's shambles. Thanks to federal subsidies, Gein no longer needed to farm his land, and he abandoned it to do odd jobs here and there for the Plainfield residents, to earn him a little extra cash. But he remained alone in the enormous farmhouse, haunted by the ghost of his overbearing mother, whose bedroom he kept locked and undisturbed, exactly as it had been when she was alive. He also sealed off the drawing room and five more upstairs rooms, living only in one downstairs room and the kitchen."Weird old Eddie", as the local community had come to know him, had begun to develop a psychotic interest in the intimate anatomy of the female body - and interest that was fed by medical encyclopedias, books on anatomy, pulp horror novels and pornographic magazines. He became particularly interested in the atrocities committed by the Nazis during the Second World War and the medical experiments performed on Jews in the concentration camps. Soon he graduated on to the real thing by digging up decaying female corpses by night in the local Wisconsin cemeteries. These he would dissect and keep some parts heads, sex organs, livers, hearts and intestines. Then he would flay the skin from the body, wearing it himself to dance and cavort around the homestead - a practice that apparently gave him intense gratification. On other occasions, Gein took only the body parts that particularly interested him. He was especially fascinated by the excised female genitalia, which he would fondle and play with, sometimes stuffing them into a pair of women's panties, which he would then wear around the house. Obviously, he quickly became a recluse in the community, discouraging any visitors from coming near his by now neglected and decaying farm. Gein's fascination with the female body eventually led him to seek out fresher samples. His victims, usually women of his mother's age, included 54-year old Mary Hogan, who disappeared from the tavern she ran in December 1954, and Bernice Worden, a woman in her late fifties who ran the local hardware store, who disappeared on the 16th November 1957. Mrs. Worden's son Frank was also the sheriff's deputy, and upon learning that weird old Eddie Gein had been spotted in town on the day of his mother's disappearance, Frank Worden and the sheriff went to check out the old Gein place, already infamous amongst the local children as a haunted house.There, the gruesome evidence proved that Gein's bizarre obsessions had finally exploded into murder, and much, much worse. In the summer kitchen of the house was the naked, headless body of Bernice Worden, hanging upside down from a meat hook and slit open down the front. Her head and intestines were discovered in a box, and her heart in a plastic bag in the dining room. The skins from ten human heads were found preserved, and another skin taken from the upper torso of a woman was rolled up on the floor. There was a belt fashioned from carved-off nipples, a chair upholstered in human skin, the crown of a skull used as a soup-bowl, lampshades covered in flesh pilled taut, a table propped up by a human shinbones, and The four posts on Gein's bed were topped with skulls and a human head hung on the wall alongside nine death-masks - the skinned faces of women - and decorative bracelets made out of human skin. The stunned searchers also uncovered a soup bowls fashioned from skulls, a shoe box full of female genitalia, faces stuffed with newspapers and mounted like hunting trophies on the walls, and a "mammary vest" flayed from the torso of a woman. Gein later confessed that he enjoyed dressing himself in this and other human-skin garments and pretending he was his own mother.
The scattered remains of an estimated fifteen bodies were found at the farmhouse when Gein was eventually arrested, but he could not remember how many murders he had actually committed. The discovery of these Gothic horrors sent shock waves throughout Eisenhower-era America. In Wisconsin itself, Gein quickly entered local folklore. Within weeks of his arrest, macabre Jokes called "Geiners" became a statewide craze. The country as a whole learned about Gein in December 1957, when both Life and Time magazines ran features on his "house of horrors." After ten years in a mental hospital, Gein was judged competent to stand trial. Although considered fit to stand trial, Eddie was found guilty, but criminally insane. He was first committed to the Central State Hospital at Waupon, and then in 1978 he was moved to the Mendota Mental Health Institute where he died in the geriatric ward in 1984, aged seventy-seven. It is said he was always a model prisoner - gentle, polite and discreet. He died of respiratory and heart failure in 1984
Leo just arrived, all bubbly as usual, and is wearing the same brown pants. I wonder if he likes caffeine? Maybe I could buy him a coffee just to see his reaction... and maybe add a bit of kahlùa in it to see if he thinks I put some kind of crazy mix in it because I found out who he really is and now I'm trying to kill him... O.k. maybe not cause he might try to hit me with his super large beige laptop for revange and that would be way too embarassing for me to try and explain afterwards to people the cause of the bump on my head...
Halloween is really not far away and I still haven't found a costume yet. And I don't want to dress up as something typical like a pumpkin or a witch so I was thinking of being a jar of marmelade... and then I remembered I hate marmelade. Maybe a mosquito? *sigh* I just know I'm gonna try and find the BEST costume all week long, and then on Halloween day I'm gonna realize I haven't found one yet so I'm gonna use up all the toilet paper at my house and dress up as a mummy. (and probably set my costume on fire when someone in the bar is gonna throw his cigarette at me). Hey a monkey is cute... and yesterday at my bartending class I learned how to make horny monkey shooters so I could drink that at the party...
My fish almost died yesterday. He had crazy gas, and when he tried to swim at the bottom of his bowl, he kept on floating back on top of the water. Today he's o.k. so he probably let out a major burp and that is the reason why there is now a bunch of bubbles at the surface of the water. Well, I hope those are burp bubbles... right? posted by Cyril et Marie 4:19 pm
Thursday, October 17, 2002
I now have a new reason to get up in the morning. There's this guy who's been coming at my work place every 2 days or so and who is really intriguing. He comes in through the main door, says "hi" to pretty much every person he meets in the hall, and sits 2 desks away from me (there's a free desk there). He carries an old-old-school beige laptop (I suspect it to be a prototype of the very first laptop to be ever sold on the market), plugs it into one of our computers and transfers info back and forth from his laptop to our computer etc. The thing is, he acts as if he knows everyone in the office (everytime he sees me he looks at me with a big smile and says "Oh hi, how are you!") but I've asked pretty much every employee and nobody knows who he is... And he fits in our crowd perfectly, like he's one of us when actually.... he's not! So I'm guessing he's either a very very friendly data guy in charge of fixing our system or updating something.... OR he's a real smart-ass who figured that if he'd go into a random office, act like he knows everyone and sits down all natural at one of our desks, he could get away with hacking-up our system without anyone noticing anything. Wish I would've thought of that. So from now on, I'll call him Leo. posted by Cyril et Marie 9:19 pm
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
If you think your life is pathetic, go to this following link and afterwards, you'll feel like your life is a tremendously big sundae smothered with hot fudge and cookie dough
http://www.theonion.com/onion3837/man_looks_forward.html posted by Cyril et Marie 3:42 pm
Friday, October 11, 2002
There's this lady that sits at the desk in front of me at work who looks like a melted Barbie doll. Today she's wearing a black leather skirt and everytime she moves her ass on her chair, it makes this weird sound and I always think it's my cell phone vibrating in my purse, and every time I grab my phone to answer it. I think it's time for another "café-Kahlùa". posted by Cyril et Marie 8:05 pm
A diplomat is a person who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that
you actually look forward to the trip.
God I can't believe how clueless I am when it comes to love. I really suck at it. I just don't understand the fact that you're supposed to love ONE person for the rest of your life and dedicate the biggest part of your emotions to him/her (depends how I feel). Maybe I'm just weird or....... o.k. I'm just weird. But I much rather have a few very close people that I can fully trust, laugh, cry and eat Tutto Gelatto with, because that way, I can enjoy different types of personalities. Being with the same person all the time is just way to redundant, and after a while, you can guess exactly what kind of ice cream he's gonna pick at the grocery store... that's just WAY too wrong! My hairdresser tells me it's only because I haven't found my soulmate yet... but I can't really take his advices because he's a gay 42 year old guy with a 5 year old kid, a 21 year old girlfriend and he swears he's gonna open up a salon on a space platform before he dies, because when people are gonna start moving to the moon, they're gonna need someone to cut their hair, especially with all that gravity. I just like rubbing his belly for good luck. And plus, that's my biggest fear; finding my "soulmate", my "monopolizer". The person who knows everything about me, who knows exactly when I'm sad, angry, or when I need my dose of starfruit. The other day, I was having a tea at some patchoulie smelling pub, and I was sitting near a girl who was about to say something to her boyfriend when he suddenly stopped her and said "Wait, I know exactly what you're gonna say..." And he guessed right. That just gives me goosebumps and makes me wanna shave my head. It's o.k. for me to be around my friends who are in a relationship, I mean I won't try to convice them that soon she's gonna wake up one night, go for a piss and sit on a cold porcelain rim because her "honey bunny" forgot to lower the toilet seat, but it's just not for me. For a while there I thought I was a homosexuel trapped in a lesbian body (still not clear on that one), but after a few vodkas, I came up with the conclusion that I just love life in general. posted by Cyril et Marie 5:38 pm
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
Best newspaper headlines of years past.
1. Include Your Children When Baking Cookies
2. Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Experts Say
3. Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
4. Drunks Get Nine Months in Violin Case
5. Iraqi Head Seeks Arms
6. Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?
7. Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
8. British Left Waffles on Falkland Islands
9. Teacher Strikes Idle Kids
10. Clinton Wins Budget; More Lies Ahead
11. Plane Too Close to Ground, Crash Probe Told
12. Miners Refuse to Work After Death
13. Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
14. Stolen Painting Found by Tree
15. Two Sisters Reunited after 18 Years in Checkout Counter
16. War Dims Hope for Peace
17. If Strike Isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last a While
18. Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide
19. Man Struck by Lightning Faces Battery Charge
20. New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group
Have you ever hidden yourself in a box when you were young, and rolled around in it, not really knowing where you were going, what you were about to hit, or worse, what was about to hit you (I'd drive over a box of cartboard with my car if I didn't know someone was in it)? Well that's exactly how my job feels like. At the beginning, it seems really fun and daring so you jump into it. But once you're trapped between those walls, you realize that you feel as if you are moving ahead, but you can't actually see that with your own eyes so the only thing left to do is hope that all that effort that you're putting in to push that box in a certain direction will take you to a very nice place. But fuck that bullshit!!! This week, I've decided to rip open my box (and maybe burn it later... oh no wait, I'll recycle it to save a monkey) and walk with my own two feet. I meet way too many people who tell me the same homily about how we only have one life to live and blablabla but you know what? It sounds cliché (I hate that word) but it actually is true. If Jean Chrétien can be the prime minister of Canada, than I can be the one who types the credits at the end of porn movies. I swear this guy is the head Alien sent from a freaky planet to analyse what the "border line of too much stupidity in order for a politician to get elected" is. And just as I thought he had already crossed that line, he says to Bill Clinton at a "sommet de l'aléna" when asked about his opinion on the fact that more and more drugs are coming in to Canada from the States:
-Jean Chrétien; "Trucks? It's good! Let them come across the border! We will
take all we can get"
-Bill Clinton; "HEY! We talk about DRUGS!"
Wow, o.k. this is pretty interesting... Now you're able to jump into my wacky bubble and flot away along with my thoughts... I was thinking of writing something big today since it's my first time here (god this sounds so pathetic!), but then again, I guess this sums it all:
The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right
place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.
Living in a vaccum sucks 
Tuesday, October 29, 2002