Blood Thirsty.

The past week has been challenging. I feel like this is a week-long rite of passage test and if i do not argue with everyone in my path than i am not a fully-fledged Cuban woman.

In the past week I have argued with nearly everyone and now I'm on the path for pure blood. I might as well take up murder as a hobby because clearly arguing with idiots is not solving any problems. Lately I've been arguing about everything from politics (extremism/radicalism and lack of compromise and alternative answers), eating habits/choices (animal rights and tasty dishes), children (no thanks), marriage (no thanks), life (mine's great, thanks) and bullshit (literally).

See, I do not do well with people telling me what to do with my life. I've had more people in the past week telling me to do things in my life, all of which make ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE that I'm just at the point where the next person that tells me what to do I am probably going to put a bullet between their eyes and eat their brains with hot sauce. if currently no such thing as "mad human disease" exists, there will be by the time I am done. Cows will not be the only subjects of foaming madness.

The most ludicrous shit I've heard this week is that i need to get married and have babies because i'm not getting any younger. if someone could tolerate me for life that would be a devil's dream come true. i am like horny Satan; i need my dildo carrying, dirty-talking Saddam as my abusive partner. sometimes i need to get slapped in the face with rubbery red dildos and chained up in a ring of fire. I need to be told to "relax... guy" and be verbally and physically raped. The only difference is that since I'm a dirty Satan I'll tolerate it and eat it up rather than to banish him from Hell. And of all things, if i was pregnant, the baby would probably come out feverishly angry and try to eat me for subjecting it to my madness for 9 months. i wouldn't be surprised if i somehow had a glock 17 in my womb and when the fetus had fully formed hands it decided that suicide would be its best way out than to have to deal with me until i die and then incurr the costs of getting rid of me. i feel sorry for the bastard child i will have one day. that poor kid will need a lot of therapy.