violentacres

ALL ABOUT ME

DESPERATE MEN EVERYWHER! PLEASE EMAIL ME!! I AM CURRENTLY SEEKING NOT ONLY A "CATCH PHRASE" FOR MY WEBSITE, BUT EPOPLE TO HAVE SEX WITH THIS DISGUSTING BAG OF MEAT THAT I CALL A BODY! I WILL DO ANYTHING... JUST ASK MY BROTHER!

ALL ABOUT ME From my previous website: truthhurts (which I wrote with special help from my imaginary friends and my very real brother.)

· I am a chick. Except that I also have male genitals. Yes, I know this technically makes me a she-male, but I like to think of myself as a real woman’s woman.

· I just turned 29.

· I was a college student majoring in Computer science. Now I do noting but sit on my ass as it gets bigger and bigger, and I obsess about other people who have more popularity than me online. read: everyone in the world.

· I worked full-time as a childcare provider. Why people trusted me with their children, I'll never know. The things I did to those kids when the parents weren’t around is something I can’t discuss because it’s illegal.

· This is a website, not a personal add, so I will not post my picture. I will, however, give a short description: 6ft, 425lbs, bald head and no eyes. Satisfied?

· I used to share an apartment with four guys (YES, I was doing any of them!) who gave me an interesting nickname. We were all sitting around the tube one fine evening watching 'The Grinch That Stole Christmas', when someone pointed out that I look like a character on the movie: Little Lucy-Who from Whoville. From that day forward, I have been known as Little Who Whore from Whoville, or WHO for short. Fascinating story, eh? I know, it’s really not, but I’m desperate for material.

· I haven't watched T.V in seven months and I know that no one in the entire universe cares, at all.

· I have a secret freckle on my enormous ass. I plan to get a tattoo pointing at it that says Treasure HERE. Not that anyone will ever see it.

· I am a lousy driver. You have all probably cussed me out at some point in your lives. I am sorry. I apologize. I suck at everything, driving isn’t an exception.

· I have a younger brother whom I adore and have sex with on occasion.

· The rest of my family consists of social rejects and the Dregs of Society. I’m really even jealous of them. Although she lives less than ten minutes from me, I have not seen my mother in five years, ever since she stopped breast-feeding me..

· I can't spell worth a damn. Or do anything else worth a damn for that matter.

· I work at Taco Bell. I love my job. It’s the highest position in life I will ever achieve.

posted by Violent Acres @ 5:28 PM 16 comments

Please like me... please.... pay attention to me.....

In order to make me a little more human, I wanted to share with you all my pictures of Halloween. This is my brother (you know the one that's fascinated with throbbing cocks) and me on Oct. 31st in our matching costumes. Aren't we adorable?

Let me just start out with my regular disclaimer. I’m an idiot, yes, I am. Now that we all agree on this, I can get back to the business of trying to apologize to all of the decent people out there whose minds have been polluted by thoughts of me. Or whose eyes have been stricken blind by the sight of me, but since I have no friends and nothing resembling a normal life, I have to get all of my kicks out by being online and pretending to be what I’m not. Like intelligent, and funny.

See, those are the two that make me, the tiny, teeny normal side of VA, cringe within her misshapen skull. Intelligence and Humor, the two things that I am lacking in such obviousness that you’d think I would have caught on by now. You would think I’d notice that no one is interested in hearing what I have to say. You’d think that I noticed that there are long, long silences after I make a “funny” instead of laughter. I however, being completely self-involved and totally devoid of all good human qualities, ignore these little irritations and move right on.

But seriously. Like my joke about soldiers? Why didn’t anyone laugh at that? I thought it was real funny, how I copied the letter that my friend got from her overseas hubby. Er, fiance. Or whatever I said. We all know that since I don’t have any friends, this was just another false story of mine. What is not false is where I got the excerpt for the letter. My brother wrote that to me, when he was away at summer camp in 1989. It was a very touching letter and I thought it was sweet how he called me his puma. I thought for sure that trainwrecks and all of the really cool people there would embrace me as a friend after that post. I mean, those are the people I’m aiming for, to be my target audience. I want their attention so bad! I admire their ability to sit on their asses and judge people they don’t know so much. I want to be just like them… oh yes, I am like them I mean, except I have that little habit of going “too far”. I have to work on that. Maybe do a few “normal” type of blog posts and see if anyone cares once I stop attacking children and women that others actually care about. Nope, shit…no one cares what I say.

This latest thing, where I ask all of these imaginary “readers” to chime in with their suggestions for a catch phrase for my site might be what pushes me over the edge. I mean just think of all the time I’ll spend clicking, and clicking, hoping to find that even one single, solitary person took the time to read what I said. Imagine my disappointment when I find out that not even one, single, solitary person wants to help me think of a pet name for my disgusting troll pit of a site? Think of all the time I will then have to put into it myself, making up catch phrases and trying to pretend that other people made them up for me? I mean, I know I can get all the support I need from my brother and his friends over at NAMBLA, but I want real people to pay attention to me!

Anyway, I want people to notice me! I want people to like me! Don’t listen to what I say about being mean! I am really insecure, and all I want is…. an audience. But I guess I got carried away, like my many doctors have told me over the years and started mixing fantasy with reality.

Fantasy- that everyone on the internet will think I am a really smart, insightful person with a lot of things to say, and I will have legions of faithful fans (much like those dang mommybloggers) that will come to hang on my words every day and nod at them, and discuss them with their friends and neighbors.

Reality- once the furor over my manipulation of photographs of other people’s children (that I stole) has died down, no one GIVES ONE SINGLE TENTH OF A SHIT WHAT I SAY. Oh yeah, that’s right, they never cared what I said anyway. The only possible way I can draw people to my site is through illegally filching children’s pictures and defacing them. My words? Meaningless. My knowledge? No evidence of any such thing. My intelligence? Nonexistent. My fans? Nowhere to be found.

I hate me. Oh god....Please someone..... put me to sleep.

posted by Violent Acres @ 7:09 PM 3 comments

Hi again

This is the t-shirt I got FREE with my Certificate shown in below's post! It proves that while it's true I might be an idiot, I am not disabled. The shirt says so.

Aren’t you impressed with my degree? I am a real live quack now and proof can be found on my other site, where I explain all about other people’s lives. Ok… I admit it. I’m lying again. I don’t have a fucking clue what anyone is even thinking, least of all myself. And motives? I look at my own motives and I am seized with a deep desire to cut my own throat with a piece of rusty metal. I am, once again, trying to cover up my own frustrations with the stupid, meaningless existence I try to pretend is a “life” by focusing on other people. Those others are usually women who are smarter, kinder, better-looking, and basically superior to me. In every way. If I’m too scared to pick on them that day, I’ll usually go for a kid. Kids don’t know how to fight back using big words like I do. If I’m really feeling insecure that day, well, I’ll pick on a child with a handicap too, like maybe someone with Down’s Syndrome or something. Even though I understand that the kid with Down’s is smarter, more attractive, and an infinitely better human being than I could ever hope to be.

See, it drives me crazy to see anyone have success, especially doing something that they love. And if that thing brings success to them, and pleasure to other people? That makes me BATSHIT INSANE! I hate it that there are all of these people, enjoying life, making friends, sharing… it makes me so sick with envy because I know I will never have that.

Lately, I’ve been trying to make myself feel better by pretending I have friends. I have one I call “the microbiologist” and one I call “the plumber”. Honestly though, both of them are pretty boring. I wish I had friends like Sweetney and Amalah. Maybe they will want to be my friends. Maybe they will email me. Oh yeah, that’s right, I don’t have an email on my website or a comments box, or any way for someone to contact me. That way, there is no way they can confront me about my abominable behavior and stealing their photographs. Really clever of me, huh?

Anyway, the next certificate that I’m going to try to earn is Crappy Child Psychologist. Of course, I don’t have any kids, except for the stepchildren that I regularly torment with emotional abuse, but I’m actually an expert on other people’s kids. I remember what it was like to be a kid. Yes, I was the “ugly duckling” and I didn’t actually turn into a swan… more like a big, half-bald vulture, but the point is, that I know how cruel children are …because I was one cruel little bitch myself. I was the class bully who preyed on weaker children because I was as sick then as I am now. The truth is, I’m sure that the mommyblogger’s kids are going to be happy, well-adjusted and able to handle everything that comes their way in life, because they have parents who love them and are raising them with respect, affection and love, but I can’t admit that on the other site because my dominant personality is in charge over there. Oh god, I disgust myself. Even puppies and kittens hate me. Because I try to eat them.

I just want to take this post to apologize for everything I have ever said or done.

posted by Violent Acres @ 6:54 PM 4 comments

My New Degree

posted by Violent Acres @ 5:37 PM 0 comments

Crippling Envy Syndrome

I’d like to explain myself to the world. I’m not such a bad person when you get right down to it. I suffer from several mental disorders that are rare and it is those that control me. First of all, you’ve all guessed about my Split Personality. Secondly, I already explained my little fecal problem, or FCC as we sufferers refer to it. Thirdly, I’m going to try to explain about another little disease I am constantly battling. It is called Crippling Envy Syndrome. I’m not surprised if you’ve never heard of it, it is more common than you think, but most people who have it are able to keep it well hidden. Not me. See, with the other side of my personality in charge 98% of the time, I am helpless to control my C.E.S.

Signs and Symptoms of C.E.S….

• Acutely envious feelings triggered by anyone who is prettier, smarter, thinner, or just more attractive than me… I.E. everyone in the world.
• Longing to be another person
• Uncontrollable hysterical attacks on the characters of my superiors
• “low-lunges” this is a medical term referring to when a sufferer of C.E.S. stoops really low and attacks his or her superiors’ children, after attacks on the adults have proven futile.
• Lying
• Lying
• Lying

So you can see how miserable I am. I don’t really want to say slanderous, evil things about perfectly nice people.

For example, let's talk about Amalah and Sweetney. These are exactly the kind of women that bring out my C.E.S. Both of them are wonderful, kind, caring individuals. They're terrific mothers. In fact when I see how much they love their kids, it drives me a little crazy. I read them posting about their lives, and their success (which is another thing that drives me batshit insane -aren't I cute and funny when I say that?) on the internet, it makes me grind my (three) teeth together really hard and then I have to think of something mean I can write about them. Or their kids. I don't care that it just makes people love them more and hate me more. I really dont....ok, I do. I'm miserable. Then I try to think of something witty that I can write about, like slaves. You don't need to tell me. I already know. I wasn't funny at all and just ended up looking like an even bigger jackass than I did to begin with.

I just can’t help myself. I’m sick. If I see anyone online who is smart, successful, beautiful, or a great mom*, I compulsively try to ruin their lives, to make them as miserable as I am. I’m very, very sick and I can only pray that someday medical science will find a cure for my disabilities. Until then, I can only hate and hate and hate.

P.S. The truth about my stepchild? There is no stepchild. I smoke myself, three packs a day, and it’s just another thing that I’m ashamed of, so I make up crazy stories about smoking and stepchildren to try to distract people from the truth about me. really, I’m just a lonely, sad monster who has no friends. Even the people who say they are my friends are not. We all know they’re just being nice. Which is something I can never hope to be. Also, I cannot have children myself. I had a rare disease when I was younger that required my uterus be replaced by a large carrot. Which explains my mustache, too.

posted by Violent Acres @ 1:03 PM 7 comments

My Main Man

posted by Violent Acres @ 11:00 AM 1 comments

My name is Violent Acres and I'm an

Photo of me on my wedding day....

...asshole. I admit it. Some of you may have seen my other blog over at violentacres.com and wondered why I would start one up here at Blogger. Well let me try to explain. First of all, although my heart is too sizes too small, none of the rest of me is. Yup you read it right. I’m a … what do you say? Big-boned. A Large Marge. A Fatty Patty. Ok, I’ll just say it. I’m a tub of lard. I’m hugely, enormously and pretty disgustingly fat. This means I’m also spiteful and jealous. I feel this deep need to point out the seeming bad points (and I’ll make those up if need be- no one will know) of other people to try to make myself feel better. Smaller, in fact. Unfortunately, it’s not working. I just keep getting fatter.

This is because I have a very small problem with eating. It’s a rare and unusual disorder known as Fecal Consumption Compulsion. I’m working on my FCC and trying hard to get it under control, but it would help if I knew there were others out there like me. Truthfully? Sometimes I pretend everyone else has FCC, too. It makes me feel a little less alone in my fat, shit-eating little world. So maybe now you can understand the picture. It was my cry out for help- my loneliness expressed in photoshop form. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m a fat monster and I make myself sick.

I’m also not exactly a beauty queen. See I am married and my husband says he thinks I’m “attractive enough” but I know he’s just saying that. The truth is, I avoid mirrors whenever possible. I just feel ill when I actually have to look at my face. Make up doesn’t help. Plastic surgery would do me no good…the doctors say my kind of ugly is simply inoperable. So the only possible thing I can do to make myself feel a little better about my grotesqueness is to find cute people, preferably small, defenseless ones that can’t fight back, and try to make them ugly, too. It’s a small comfort, but it’s all the comfort I have. I especially resent adorable little girls who are cuter at age four than I ever have been and ever will be.

I’m so sorry…it’s just that I’m a ridiculously fat, incredibly ugly monster. Please feel sorry for me. Please.

I also thought if I posted some pictures of myself that you haters can see what I really am… a pathetic, shit-eater who is all alone in the world and tries desperately to hide my sense of futility and hopelessness at the downward spiral of my existence by hurting others.

Comments are welcome.

posted by Violent Acres @ 10:27 AM 5 comments