"Won't someone PLEASE think of the children????"

Friends, Marina Chicks, Mission Kidz, lend me your beers. My MC is with my long-since-passed ability to do ANYTHING but read CL. Shocking, sad, true - how such a young woman with so much potential could go so horribly astray on the path of life? Once upon a time, I was vibrant and beautiful and healthy - and then I met that demon CL. I'm a ghost of my former self - dark, unearthly circles under my glassy, blood-shot, monitor radiation-seared eyeballs (who even know what damn color my eyes are any more? WHo even damn well cares?). My ass, once so perky and round (like a fresh honeydew, cut in half), is now a horrible amalgamation of heinous snack foods, interspersed by channels eaten away by the generic coffee I now have to drink. Said backside is expanding at an alarming rate, and I've had to adjust the arms on my Aeron. Twice. My hands themselves have metamorphosed into a frightening swamp of bulging, murderous-looking vascularity, criss crossing sinewy, freakish MAN-hands. Typing constantly for weeks on end tends to do that to a lady. A lady - HA! that's a laugh. From everything I've learned from the personals, no one is probably looking for me, and if you are, you're a bigger freak than me. And anyway, the you and me thing would cut WAY into my aforementioned devotion to my FIRST love, CL....

I've worn my once beautifully manicured nails down almost to the bone - my once tapering fingers now freakishly shortened and stubby - but my opinion is just as important as everyone elses, right? RIGHT??????? I've had to go to the free clinic twice for splints on various digits after particular heated, ornery, aggro days of debating the nuances of ....well crap, YOU read the posts - I don't need to reiterate!!!!

Back when I was just doing a little CL here and there and had a job, I would go into work and you know, just do a little in the morning - a little "pick me up" if you will. Then I'd find myself doing a little more. Soon I was actually staying LATE (I have shitty dialup at home, under the Bay Bridge) and alternating between that and sneaking away to a terminal where no one could see me and furtively pondering what all the hullabaloo was about with Asian Chicks, Marina Folks, and where all those damn Aeron chairs came from (and went to...). THat's important, consuming shit, there! BRING IT!

I scan the resume section for my friends' resumes, cuz I'm a nosy freaker with a 1,000 post-a-day habit. I remember what it was like to have a job, though just barely. I used to look through the help wanteds to see if my boss had caught on to my addiction and taken the liberty of posting my job henceforth! (Guess I called that one, eh? Not bad for a used-up junkie!)

I read every apartment listing to see if I can find the PERFECT place (where I can squat), despite the fact that there is no way I'm going to be able to move ANY time soon...I can't stand to take a pee without CL, I sure as HELL can't afford to be driving a UHaul around the city - not until they put a damn internet kiosk in those jalopies.

I need the junk, baby. I need it shot directly into my veins - none of this CL "smoking" crapola. Smokin' the CL is for babies.

I hate to go to sleep at night, because I can't afford that computer-in-your-glasses thingymabob which would allow me to have access to CL 24 hours a day via the wireless keyboard.

I tried to set up my laptop in the shower with disasterous result. I was out of work for three days recovering from the prolonged 120V shock I took. I'm still not completely right in the head. I think that's when my boss caught on and I got shitcanned. Anyone know a good lawyer? Surely this addiction qualifies me for the Americans With Disabilities Act, right? I mean, I'm DISABLE to stop reading CL. And I've TRIED!!!!. If I still had my damn Palm Piece of Crap (and didn't sell it to pay for my shitty dialup), I'd finagle it so EVERY posting in EVERY category would be mailed to me, me me MEEEEEEEEEE. Oh YEAH baby, I've GOT that kind of time on my man-hands!

I hear voices in my head (since my phone has long since stopped ringing) and they natter on endlessly telling me to FEED THE BEAST. FEEEEED THE BEAST!!!!

My CL friends, I feel so close to you, like I somehow know you. I know that you like boobies, especially asian ones (as long as they are over 5'10"); I know that I don't know WHO might win in a jranking contest between the Marina and the Mission. Can I come stay at your place? I'll do chores around your house - you're probably too busy with you know, your life and job and stuff. I'll clean the bathroom, um, once I'm done with the important CL post reading. Oh, only people with DSL need respond with offers of housing.

So, anyone wanna send me some money? I mean, after all, I didn't ask for this addiction, it found ME!!!! Maybe you can find it in your heart to reach out to someone who once WAS one of you're own??? I promise I will try to get help.
Really! Seriously. Don't believe all that bad press about addicts being liars, or theives or whatever.

You know where to find me....


Other ways to contact poster:
post anywhere, I will find it.