Wednesday, September 8, 2010


I’ve been asked to come back to a job that I got fired from a couple years ago, can you believe it? It was the perfect job, too. I was doing transcription and office work for an attorney who paid me really well and let me work in the office alone if I wanted. I set my own hours and usually worked overnight. But now I have a dilemma. I’m not sure if I can take the job back.

The reason is sort of because of an email I got a couple of weeks ago from a woman who said, “Your stories got me hotter than anything I have ever read,” and gave me a link to a story for me to read. It’s called “Julie’s Slide into Depravity”. Well, I knew about that one already. It’s one of my all-time favorite porn stories, although it’s a lot more violent than I like, and the author made Julie way too young. Even so, there’s a part of the story with maggots, and it ended up being was one of the things that made me start thinking about maggots myself. Anyway, the email reminded me about the “Julie” story and I ended up reading it again.

There’s another part of the story where Julie is forced to pick up piles of dog shit off the ground and stuff them into her vagina. Since I’m a sick, perverted pig, I find that idea extremely erotic, and I’ve had experiences with dog shit too. But I was thinking about the story while I was in the city Wednesday last week dropping off a costume I made a long time ago for a co-worker who’s doing community theater. After I left her place, I got a little lost and ended up driving through an alley to turn around. I saw a whole bunch of dog turds scattered along the base of a building and around a garbage dumpster. So, of course, I couldn’t help myself. I drove around the block and came back to the alley, found a plastic Jewel bag in the dumpster, and collected all of the dog shit in the bag.

I have difficulty controlling myself sometimes when I get really horny, no surprise. I found a dark area to park the car in a viaduct under the Ravenswood ‘L’ tracks, pulled my jeans down, and started pushing dog shit into my vagina. It smelled horrible. The turds were all different sizes and colors so it was probably from different dogs. Some of it was kind of messy and some was all hard and dried up, but I kept putting more and more shit inside me. I didn’t stop until it hurt. It made me cum really hard. My tummy was quivering after the orgasm. Then I put my pants back on and drove home. I carried the shit around in my vagina, constantly horny, humping the furniture and fingering myself to orgasm on and off until Thursday afternoon, when I needed to end my depraved little dog shit adventure, clean up, and go to work.

By this past weekend I had a really itchy rash between my legs and discharge from my vagina, and it felt like it was getting worse and worse until finally, on Monday, once I’d already scratched my crotch raw, I realized that I had a ton of tiny little white worms inside and all around my vagina. Again, because I’m a sick, perverted pig, that made me immediately horny all over again and I had to make myself cum despite the itching, before I went to the ER Monday night to get seen.

The doctor who looked at me said I had pinworms. He said that it’s rare to get a vaginal infestation of pinworms, but he’d seen it before. Of course, I pretended to be totally baffled how they got there as I was picturing a bunch of diseased, stray dogs shitting in an alley. He gave me a prescription for something called Vermox to get rid of the worms and Benadryl for the itching, and today I’m almost back to normal. A few scabby spots from all the scratching.

So anyway, the point of telling the story is that this was the second time in four months that I’ve gone to the ER (last time was for scabies). My insurance through work is covering both visits almost completely. Knowing me, I’ll be back there again. And that’s my dilemma. My current job is paying me $10.50/hr to stock shelves at night and I have health benefits. The hours suck, the work sucks, the pay sucks, but if I go back to my old job I’ll lose my insurance. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.

Thursday, September 2, 2010


I’ll be turning 30 this month. I guess that’s supposed to be a milestone, but I’m pretty sure nobody’s planning a surprise party for me or anything. I can’t think of anybody in my life who’d want to do that. It’s my own fault for being such a loner. I don’t mind turning 30. When I was younger I had expectations about what my life would be like at 30. I was way off the mark. I thought that I’d be working professionally as a costume designer for theater and movies, living in a trendy loft condo somewhere in Lincoln Park or something, surrounded by smart, sophisticated friends. Well, none of that has materialized yet!

Considering my history of not being able to hold a job for very long, I guess I should feel lucky that I’m employed at all right now, especially with the bad economy and everything. I have my own apartment and I have a car to drive, though I am still “heavily subsidized” by my parents, as my dad says. They don’t mind. I’m sure they’re very relieved that I’ve been emotionally stable.

I guess I should set a goal to actually do something useful for myself this year. Do something besides slowly destroying myself through my perversion for filth. I mean, so far what have I done? I nearly killed myself six years ago having sex with blowfly maggots, wrote about it on my old Geocities page, and the story became mildly infamous as one of the most disgusting stories on the Internet. My gynecologist says she can tell that I’m unable to get pregnant anymore. At least I’m well on my way to destroying myself. It’s an achievement.

Seriously, though, I have to mention that I’ve read comments on my blog and gotten emails from people wishing me well and hoping I will seek help. If you’re one of them, thank you for being concerned. Really, sincerely. You sound like nice compassionate people. But I’m okay. While I was growing up, my parents made me go to counseling, see psychiatrists, take antidepressants, all sorts of stuff. I’m happier without any help. And I’m only a danger to myself a very small percentage of the time. There’s a lot more to my life that I don’t discuss on my blog that if you knew about, you’d see I’m pretty normal.