And I leave her there with a bruised ass and head, viscous splooge dripping down the vale of her crack and a naked fat ass trying to help her up with the same hand he uses to pick out the dingleberries that plague his anal shrubbery. Saturday, July 4, 2009. Will the Real Stephanie Ragusa Please Stand Up? Ridiculous story. Just for shits and giggles. Absurd, unnecessary and not geared for logical human beings.

Saturday, July 4, 2009. My anxious hands quickly grab what I think is acid.

I am dreaming about busting a Peter North sized load all over her naturally unnatural breasts. Saturday, July 4, 2009. As the beat grows faster, so do my bumps and grinds. And the girl, unable to keep pace, stumbles to the floor, knocking over the chasers on my table.

Every dialogue, in essence, is just a collective monologue. Two people can have a discussion but neither one is really listening to what the other is saying. Saturday, July 4, 2009. And he continues in an.

Saturday, July 4, 2009. Every time I start to feel drowsy, I pop another. And take another swig of gin. And this is how you Tangueray. Your breath smells like dick cheese.

And I force her to help me put her mother in my trunk, because that seems like the right thing to do. I do not mean to foreshadow, but sometimes I just cannot control myself. Saturday, July 4, 2009. This Place in the Ways. A venerated Sodom and Gomorrah.

Sprawled across the bed, she beckoned me using the same finger motion that one uses to tickle the necks of babies; the same finger motion I would use in a couple minutes to make her feel immortal. Saturday, July 4, 2009. Chapter 1- Adam and Naive. I sat down next to her, my body movements wrought with scant hints of adolescence. I might as well have been sitting in a goddamn Indian position.