A Little Less You, A Little More Me

So, I'm settling into my new room in Milan. I'll be living with Lucille "I'M SO EMO AND HOPELESS" Delton. I call it the "30 Days In Milan" Challenge.

I know we won't be the only ones here, there's also Christian and Marie who are moving in not too far down the road, and I heard Vincenzo is visiting his cousin Giovanni over in Rome, he'll probably drop by for no reason. All in all, things seem like they'll be a little bit crowded.

My motif though, isn't so much to enjoy the melange of peoples dropping in, but to see if I can make sense of the point of Lucille Delton among us once and for all. There's several options, I can fuck it out of her, I can slap it out of her, I can yell it out of her, or I can ignore the hell out of her, blindfold her, gag her, tie her up and pretend I'm fucking Caroline.

I kid around a lot, but I make up for my childishness with a lack of sensitivity. Not the Eric "Whoops, I'm a douche" kind either.

Lucille and I are very similar. Except I have a cock, and a pair of cojones. And she's just a big pussy.

She just likes to mope and complain. Because she didn't get what she wanted. Because nobody she wants pays attention to her (Though people she doesn't give a flying fuck about do pay attention, but ah! those don't matter). Because nobody is giving it to her good every night with a chunk of soulmate syndrome (Which might I add, I put into the equation). Same as I dregged up her old lame' ass carcass from the ground (See initial entries) and challenged her to become someone. I also put the notion into her head that she wasn't just a fucking machine but a human being deserving of love.

All of this and she still stares at me like I'm wearing a bad Santa Claus suit in the middle of thanksgiving?

Oh really.

She's not alone in the world, or misunderstood or ignored. She's just a stuck up little princess. And you know what I do with stuck up princess types? Ask me. I'm a sadist.

Princess ABooBoo is a spoiled crybaby who thinks she has all of us figured out. Except she doesn't. And she won't.

Ever.

Because masochists don't work that way.

And a masochist is what she is. Guilty as charged and forever bawling her woes out, amen.

Or you know, she'll turn into a complete psycho... that'll make me laugh my ass off.

And I do like watching comedies.

30 Days of Milan. I know what my purpose with this is. Now let's begin.

Squiggles,

Hoot