Stop IT!

Excuse me, are you just into drugs, or crab? I was feeling hungry so I cooked up a meal. A whole load, darling. If you must know. My momma gave me this recipe. Porridge. Whatever. I'll just cook it for lunch then. Living on my own have been weirder. I am the Queen, trust me. Prada Queen. I don't cook, because this habit is for housewives. I'm a lady, single, sexy, available. Not a married, yet pretty housewife! People I know call me a bitch. I thank my dressing for it. Sexy sexy sexy. I like to look like a sex-siren. So I wear a little. So what? I like my reputation going down. Joking! But yes, because of my lower than low dressing, I've gain bad impressions from people. I mean, I'm an American Chick. A hot one. You can't blame me? But behind my dressing, you'll see a good heart. That's why boys come to me like bees to honey. They just couldn't stand me. I'm too hot, for them. But I don't get it why girls give me weird stares, and so are those boys. Only certain boys would want me. To touch me. I've been called names like "Bitch" ,"Wannabe" and the worse? "Prostitute". People think I want to be like Britney. Or Paris. I shake my head when dancing. Too much alcohol. They say being drunk can kill your brain cells. But I don't care. Being drunk lets me go loose. Sexily loose.
The other day, I met this social wannabe. She's into everything. It's scary. When I told her I disco, she wants to try too. Yeah, and what? Lose her virgin next? And then, get that bad name? Discos are bad, seriously. It's like smoking. Once you go, you will not stop going. That's what happened to me. I go to get touched. Yes, I admit. I'm this crazy dirty-minded chick. Who thinks she's hot. Who's slept with people. Fuck.
Damn I'm hot. But hell no. I don't promote myself through blogs. I've had my reputation gone. I want to mend it. I need a theraphist. Not to sleep with him, but to listen to him.