Hate me. Banish me. But never say that you don’t know me.

I am the person from birth that you never unveiled.

 

Do not say that I have never loved you.

I have loved none but you,

 

or tried to love none but you. It was not me

who betrayed you. It was the child inside

 

who must go away not to hurt you.             The hurt is seeping from fingertips,

breaking up small food in stomach.

 

Believe me, I’ve not become me yet. I’m trying

to, but

 

you are here with my replacement, another girl like me.

What does it matter that no one can see my monsters but me.

 

There is nothing about them that speaks.

Nothing says joy, but it is pulsing chinks.

 

Put yourself in a blue box. Say nothing. Say nothing to your monsters.

Ship yourself away. There is nothing outside the blue box.

Help me, I’m a desperate ho

So I’ve been trying my hardest to get a boyfriend since I started walking. Like, I was accused of stalking Dustin Little in kindergarten by his mother. I take love seriously. And since then, I haven’t had the greatest luck. My shortest relationship was a week because I convinced myself I liked a man that I didn’t find attractive because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And my longest relationship was with a former soldier that I met at work. I was 17, he was 25. And I totally was in love with him. But he was way crazy. Now he’s married and has a kid. It seems everyone is getting married or engaged. So I decided to propel myself into the dark gloom of online dating. I had tried online dating before.I had done Tinder, Match.com, even a Bernie Sanders dating site (I mostly got women that didn’t read my ‘Preferences’ section. And I have been on a ton of dates. Mostly bad. And most of all, I’m kind of tired of being alone.

So I tried Bumble, an app that forces women to make the first move. It’s an interesting concept. The only problem was that no matter how many matches I got, no one was asking me out. In fact, sometimes they never responded. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and actually ask someone out. And he said yes!

Let’s call him George. I like that name. George works at Starbucks. He’s 25 and super cute. After our third date, I was so excited. Mwahahaha. After our fourth date, I was like, “Imma date this fool.” But he didn’t text me afterward. So like a spaz, I ‘casually’ walked into Starbucks today and tried to write my fucking play while glimpsing him through the bookshelf. And that’s where I am. Right now. When I went up for a drink, I tried to engage in conversation like a cool cat.

C: Hey! How are you?

G: Great. Just working.

C: I like your shirt.

G: Thanks.

C: What are you doing after work?

G: Working out then packing.

C: Ah.

G: You work at Roadhouse?

C: Yeah.

G: Cool.

C: …Okay, I will see you later.

 

Can’t you see I am dying slowly, George? A woman has needs. Every time I get close to meeting someone nice and settling down, I get too excited. Like, finally I’ll be able to hold hands with someone on the sidewalk, go to weddings, have huge fights and great make-up sex. And have sex continually with one person is personally the Dream.

And this is why I am a desperate ho. With all of my actions, I beg someone to like me. I like anyone who is nice to me. I know I am desperate because I keep texting first, taking the initiative, etc. I am actually so desperate for love, I dreamt I had sex with my female roommate (let it be known, I have no roommate) and I had to pretend to like the sex because I didn’t want her to leave me. And now I am probably going to stay at this stupid Starbucks for two more hours to see if George will come over after his shift and talk to me. Please help me, world. I’m sick of being a desperate ho. I want to be a badass ho. My 15-year-old friend is ashamed of me.

 

Screen Shot 2017-06-22 at 10.56.15 AM

Must-Have’s on a Human Male’s Dating Profile

This is a list of all the things men simply must put on their dating profiles. On a serious note, I really don’t know how they think these things work.

1. The dog photo


There’s always fucking dog photo. The human male wants to control us with our hormones and our love for puppies. It is his way of saying, “Yes, I’m caring and compassionate, look at how much I love dogs.” 
2. The baby photo

The classic baby photo. Again, the male is trying to lure us in through supposed maternal feelings. Ha. As if we have them. We’re not here on Tinder to have babies. We’re here to make babies… but with condoms on.

3. The shirtless pic


This one is the worst. A hot bod… is a hot bod. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to grill some bacon on that thing ^^

4. The fish photo 


The male mind is obsessed with fish. I don’t know what it is. Is it the thrill of the catch? Do the gills sparkle like diamonds? Why do men think we care about fish? I’m glad it’s their favorite sport, but the only fish I want to see is on my plate.

5. The one where we don’t know who you are


Where you at, bro?

To love

He tried hard to forget. To love is to destroy. But he could not but think he’d rather fade into the earth than give up his love, it was so fresh in the ground. It niched itself in the dirt, the pressing of moss and mold inside the root cellar, where his love grew further, twisting into bricks, into an obsequious display that poisoned him to the touch. Everyone knows what it is to hold something closely and have it bite you.

Better luck next time

Note: this is political satire. paul ryan is, sadly, not cheating on his wife with me.

March 26th

9am

So I’m watching TV in my cute little pajamas, eating ice cream with rum (sorry, mom) and some good ol’ Fox television when some orange bimbo comes on and says that the repeal of Obamacare failed because of Paul!

“Paul Ryan needs to step down as speaker of the House,” Pirro said. “The reason? He failed to deliver the votes on his health care bill. The one trumpeted to repeal and replace Obamacare. The one that he had seven years to work on. The one he hid under lock and key in the basement of Congress. The one that had to be pulled to prevent the embarrassment of not having enough votes to pass.”

Well, you know what, Ms. Pirro? Paul Ryan is an excellent speaker of the House! The reason? He’s a good man and an even better lover. Yes, Obamacare is terrible because it actually helps many people around the United States. Yes, no one should experience that much freedom or get coverage despite previous conditions. No one should feel safe in America. And Paul knows that. So it takes more than 7 years? So what. It took me 22 years to find Paul.

11am

Speaking of freedom, I have nothing to do. I’m terribly lonely. I went to the store one day to buy some chocolate and get some baby food, and I found myself talking to the store clerk for 15 minutes. Paul is rarely home now that Donald is finally being presidential. His wife is supposed to sign the divorce papers soon, though.

Oh, Paul. TLC–Tender, Loving (Obama)care

March 23rd

11pm

Paul has not breastfed in 10 days. The new healthcare act is under intense scrutiny by Republicans as well as Democrats. Ha. Like there are democrats in Congress. Like Trump can be persuasive. Or even a real president.

11:20pm

Oh god. The Speaker just came in. “I’m sick of Trump trying to blame Obama. There was no wire-tap! I mean, come on! Who thought that Dorito Man would ever become the Commander in Chief? More like commander of bleach! Am I right, Chloe-bear? Because he is blond?”

“Oh, honey, go to bed.”

March 24

12:50am

“I can’t sleep, baby,” Paul softly murmurs as he cradles me in his strong, pale arms.

“Why?”I ask, stroking his vampire face.

“I just keep thinking about Obama.”

“What?”

Paul Ryan sighs. “I just miss him. This is too hard. I want maternity leave.”

“Paul, you already took maternity leave.”

“If Trump can golf, I can go back to mu-mu’s and intense sleep aids.”

“Dear Diary” (Paul Ryan Chronicles)

“It’s a very good start. It’s actually an excellent start,” Ryan said of the bill, known as the American Health Care Act.

The Washington Post

March 15

4pm

Dear Diary,

Hello. This is Paul Ryan, Speaker of the House. And Man of Chloe’s House, if you know what I mean 😉 I’m so freaked out right now. According to The Washington Post, I’m fucking drowning. Like, they keep saying the words, “Ryan urged the senators.” As if I’m their whore. And I get that I sound like an idiot every time I say, “TRILLION DOLLAR TAX CUT” but really. Who are we kidding. It’s super true.

Chloe is not buying it. She’s bitching about a bunch of small things. Like ‘senior healthcare’ and I even think she muttered, “John McCain could do it better,” as we went to bed last night.

7pm

Diary,

Chloe here.

See what I mean. Under that fabulous widows peak is the brain of a squirrel. He is so out of my league.

The Puppies

Two puppies lay at my feet.

One brindle and striped like a tiger

The female is a lovely gray. It is she

that is striking. Her face so small, her legs like flappers.

she would be a beautiful dancer, but

how frightened of every little sound!

I took her out to the front yard and she heard wind chimes

and skirted back to the door—I took them out together once

‘til two pit bulls barked

and Luna dived under a parked

car

The first time

I coaxed her out with a treat. “Come here, baby.”

The second time, “Get the fuck out of that car!”

 

anonymous 231 said a man grabbed her privates on a subway

(why do we use that word… ‘privates’…they are not private)

i was grabbed

he grabbed me

a schoolmate grabbed me in a classroom. In class.

30 people stood, all in groups, chatting

uncomfortably. I can’t remember what I did. Why this boy laughed and reached out and          touched—

cupped

           no—

     eah!

 

I yelped.

Potty training is better. I must softly pet them every time they go outside

or they’ll forget themselves and pee inside.

They’ve done it often. Tejunio will worry his eyes at me and meander

to the door sometimes. I tried to rub his nose in it, and

 he bucked like a wild horse. Like I’d beaten him.

Women envision strange things:

A woman fantasizes she’s in love and gets married and

has a thousand babies while juggling a career.

A woman fantasizes she is on a cruise ship and

there is a murder and only she can solve it.

Occasionally a woman fantasizes she’s at home. Cooking. Or on the street, or

at a frat house. And a man approaches her. A nondescript white man, age 22-30.

A lewd request. A reaching out to touch.

She whips out her gun and shoots him dead like Butch Cassidy or John Wayne.

And the blood and the police come and she says breathlessly

I’d rather go to prison than be Raped! And the jury acquits

the brave young heroine

But the boy’s last name was Cho. He wasn’t older. I couldn’t find my gun.

Puppies

are doing well. They

follow me, they

drink when I drink, watch

me use the bathroom,

eat each others’ meals,

chew up all my furniture

and sprawl on my bed. Luna loves

belly rubs. She spreads her legs and shows the world–

I call it her ‘teepee’

because it looks like a little Indian hut.

I fight this strange urge to touch it—

but my hand disgusts.

I can’t remember how they neuter females.

Paul Ryan, you sexy beast

Trigger warning: an ode to a fascist Repubican I love to hate.

#SavePaulRyan #dumptrump

January 26th, 2017

4:15pm

Hey Diary, it’s Chloe the homebreaker again.

I’m getting fucking sick of this bull, i.e. Trumpie and PenCity trying to run away with my man. What slots. Yeah, I said it. Slots!!!!!! Because Trumps a friggin gambling Queen, and I can’t have more babies running around my house. I got two kids and a Speaker of the house that can’t breast feed because “It’s a woman’s job.”

7:10pm

Wine intake: 2 cabernets

Weight: 11o

Belly fat:12 lbs

And that’s just me, not the Speaker of the House.

9pm

Paulie is just so tired that he asked our atheist black neighbor to rpaul-ryan-somberaise our children. Not that that isn’t a little sweet because it was Black History Month but isn’t that the definition of racism?

February 28th

4am

It’s the big day. Trump will make his ‘speech’. Behind Trump’s back, I call him “Don’t ask, Don’t Tell” ).

Not sure how to handle it, my boo drank 2 and a half Ensures today. Not my recommendation. But he handled it well! And he was so cute with that–I-will-tolerate -you and that widow’s peak and that milky face that screamed “I am not a cheeto”.

giphy


March 1st

I’m having my baby tomorrow. I’m super scared but can’t wait to see her face. Paul Ryan got so hysterical that he bought a Mom car–a minivan. I tried to tell him he was wearing himself out. “Chloe, if I don’t do this now, I won’t have the energy or nerve to replace and repeal Obama-Care.” He told me once he secretly didn’t care about the issue, but he was giving birth. I don’t hold it against him. 😉

But that shiny minivan…That thing means we’re that family. Instead of a mom and a dad and two kids…now we have a minivan.