Edit - Entry's now public! Anonymously comment away, minions!

I turned on anonymous posting, and turned off IP Address Logging. I want you to post anything that you want.

Anything.

A story, a secret, a confession, a fear, a love - anything. Be sure to post anonymously and honestly. Post twice if you'd like.

Then, if you want: put this in your LJ to see what your friends (and perhaps others who you don't even realize read your LJ) have to say.

If you are reading this, consider yourself lucky. If anything about this gets out to anyone who is not in the custom group, consider yourself banned. No ifs, ands, or buts. Thank you, and now you may proceed.

( The letter that I wrote to Mike. )

I want to see a scary movie with you so that I can grab onto you.

I want to fall asleep with my head on your shoulder.

I want to take you home to meet my family.

I want you to have long, drawn-out discussions with my parents about politics, football, and why the Cougs are a much better team that the Huskies.

I want to watch ESPN with you all night long.

I want to give you a full-body massage and fall asleep with you next to me.

I want to wake you up with a good morning kiss.

I want to make you breakfast.

I want us to go to a bar where no one knows us so that we can pretend we're actually a serious couple.

I want me not to be tied down.

I want to have your children. I can see them in my mind's eye.

I want you to love me.

I want us to stand in front of God and everyone and become two.

I want your daughter to be mine as well as yours.

I want to call you Heath like almost everyone else does.

I want my belly to swell with the son that you crave.

I want my name to be Corrine Cain.

I want you. All of you.

And I want you to want me the way I do you.

Give me 1000 comments in this entry. Or whatever, really. YOU, in particular, don't have to supply the whole 1000, but a tiny contribution would be nice. Then let me know if you post this in your journal and I'll return the favor.

This is your chance to spam me with anything! Pictures, lyrics, the word SPAM over and over. Feel free to tell me something about yourself, or do whatever you want! It's all up to you.

OK, so I realize 1000 is a tall number so just spam away and we'll see where we get up to. Please entertain me!

edit Thanks to a comment from erinjanelle, this post is now public - so send your friends over to help me reach my goal. :D

There are lots of reasons that I think Mark is great. Here are a handful of them.

1 - He is infallibly charming no matter what, and that's hard to find.
2 - He's a cat person.
3 - He gave Mike & I strawberry mead as a wedding gift.
4 - He promised to put "Hitchiker's Guide" on a disc for me. :-)
5 - He throws a great party.
6 - He's married to thequestess
7 - He gave me some much-needed affection at Chris's birthday party.
8 - He's a CAT PERSON!
9 - He let me feed him olives
10 - He loves women.

The two of us have known each other - albeit sporadically - for the past six to seven years when we both attended SFCC together, and then later on when I met bassoblotto. Mike, Chris and I got to be great friends and occasionally, it would be the four of us.

He came to our wedding and sat off to the side, on the lawn. My parents, after watching the wedding video made a point of asking Mike & myself who the "weird hippie guy" was.

One of my fondest memories of gulgothica is the Halloween party that Mike and I had October of 1999. There was a pretty large group of people...Larry, Jeff, Char, Elizabeth, Chris, Helen, Tiffany, Shawn, Ami...and Mark. Never a shy one, Mark perched himself next to Larry, swung his feet into Larry's lap and began to sing filk music all night - in between eating the tofu squares that Chris had commandeered my kitchen to make.

Not to mention Chris's 26th birthday party. That was a lovely day. And I shall share this picture, as taken by mimid316, to remember it.

( Shelter from the storm )

First of all, this does not apply to anyone on my friends list. I <3 you guys.

There is stuff going on here on LJ that is completely and totally uncalled for. Yes, I sound like my mother, and no, I don't care.

I'm sick of the stone-throwing.

I'm sick of the name-calling.

I'm sick of people with banned journals coming back and doing the same thing over again.

I'm sick of the edited photos.

I'm sick of the slander, the bullshit, the insults.

I'm sick of serial adders and people who do this because they have nothing else to do and they find it amusing.

Here's some advice.

Grow the hell up.

Get out of the house.

Turn off Springer once in a while.

Respect your fellow man - or woman.

People are forced to resort to friends-only journals because of trolls and stuff like this.

That's my piece.

And quite frankly, I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore.

It's late, and when it gets late, I get to thinking.

If I died tomorrow, what would I wish that I'd done and didn't do?

Write a novel.
Backpack through Europe.
Have children.
Live in a home of my own.
Visit friends in other states/countries.
Make love in a field.
Visit the Rose Bowl flea market.
Buy one of those huge wooden forks to hang on my wall.
Make up with Elizabeth.
Finish the screenplay.
Bring my husband home.
Renew my wedding vows.
Be a size ten. (Now, I think that's just wishful thinking...)
And that's just a start. All I can think of at 1 AM.

( I guess it's true. You need to live every day as if it were your last. )

I have had the most incredibly godawful few days that I've probably ever had in my life. What do I mean, that I've probably ever had? This has been the worst experience I've ever had to live through in my life.

Thursday morning my dad called me, my grandma was in a coma and there were plans to take her off life support that night. My grandmother has always been one of the most important people in my life...she was strong, brave, outspoken & encouraging. I told Dad that I would definitely be there when she was taken off life support, and I was. But not without a few complications.

Thursday afternoon Mike went to the store to get me something to eat. And almost the minute that he steps out the door, Mark starts in on me, screaming about how we're burning incense upstairs. I can't hardly even work the lighter. I told him I wasn't, and he kept yelling. Don't lie to me, someone's burning incense and it's you. It's not me. So it must be you. Like I said, I'm worried about my grandma. She's dying, and here this asshole is screaming at me about incense. And I lose my temper.

FUCK YOU! WHAT PART OF FUCK YOU DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? MY GRANDMA'S DYING AND I AM NOT IN THE MOOD TO PUT UP WITH YOU AND YOUR SHIT! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!!

I was mad as hell. In fact, thinking about it now it's like I'm on the verge of a panic attack anyway. And then he starts yelling at me that if I'm going to tell him to fuck off I'd better say it to his face. So I did.

And the next thing I remember (I honestly can't tell you if I tried to get past him or not) I was being thrown towards the door while he screamed at me to get out of the house. My hair is still soaking wet and I'm barefoot, having lost my shoes somewhere in the tussle. I got my left foot slammed in the door, which is now nicely black & blue. I have a bruise on my right arm, which looks like chicken skin. And there's a mark on my neck. Even the other night when I was in so much pain I could scarcely walk, I still found some dark humor in the fact that Mark left a mark.

Saturday it started again. I came downstairs to check my email (I was online approximately long enough to find out that I had lost on the "Ghost World" auction), and he comes upstairs and starts screaming at me, about how I'd better get out of his house. For starters, being that he didn't do anything, including paying rent, he had no right to tell me that I could leave. And he kept yelling, told Mike's mom to call the police. And when she said she wouldn't do it he said that he would.

He wouldn't call the police anyway. He's got a warrant out on him for non-payment of child support, and they would arrest him because he's the one who left the marks. Not me. And the thought of him trying to defend himself against me is funny. I'm 5'6, 200 pounds and out of shape. There's no way that I could hurt him even if I wanted to, and believe me, there was not much more in the world that I wanted to do than hurt that slimy son of a bitch. I wanted him to realize what pain feels like.

I spent yesterday at Munchkin, hiding in the back of the store. I read my copy of "Cavedweller" by Dorothy Allison that came on Friday, wrote a letter to Skoob, ate some stale generic Triscuits spread with herbed cream cheese and thanked God that I was safe away from home. And I knew that if he did show up at the store, Logan would call the police and they'd take him away.

I've hardly been able to sleep for the last couple days. I've been having nightmares. And all I can see is his face. It was like looking into Charles Manson's eyes. No conscience. No soul. No remorse. I told Mike's mom that while she was driving me to the store, and what's sad is that she agreed with me.

After she took me to the store Saturday, he started screaming about how she was taking my side over his, and all she cared about was money. Without the three hundred a month we pay her, there's no way that she would be able to make it by. She asked him how he would pay her bills, and you know what he said?

WHAT THE FUCK DO I CARE HOW YOU PAY YOUR BILLS?

And remember, supposedly ol' Mark the Shark is the victim here. He totally showed his true colors the other day.

Here's hoping that he never comes back so that I won't have to be scared anymore.

By the way, is there anyone who can help me post pictures on my livejournal? Mike took pictures of my bruises with his digital camera the other day, and I want to post them to show you all what happened to me. Thanks in advance.