this guy is smarter than i am

HEY RAYMI YOUR A FUCKING SICKO, BUT I THINK ITS GREAT, I JUST READ YOUR LITTLE TAKE ON PUSSY FARTS/QUEEFS., AND THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY STUPID AND BORING, AND I ALREADY KNEW EVERYTHING YOU SAID, AND YOUR DIALOUGE IN YOUR INTERVIEW SUCKS, ONE THING I DID THINK WAS FUNNY IS WHEN YOU SAID, A QUEEF, IS A “POLITE” LITTLE SOUND THAT COMES OUT OF A KUNT, THATS PRETTY FUNNY, LATER/

SCHNERBLE PURPLE PUSS

i am so damn lazy. here, read this. if u can follow.

Karaoke Raymi

I�m so obsessed with karaoke it�s ridiculous.

You�re probably thinking I�m old, pathetic and/or unattractive. You�re wrong. I�m actually young, hot and thanks to karaoke � completely full of myself. Yes, it�s true. Karaoke�s made a monster out of me – I walk around daydreaming about it for days, practicing my songs all over the house.

Karaoke and drinking, for me, go hand-in-hand. The goal is to drink just enough to calm my jitters which benefits my performance, overall. Though, I always, always, end up having one too many wobbly pops. But hey, it�s alright. Thanks to alcohol impairing my judgment – I go home every time under the impression that yes, I am the best karaoke singer to ever walk the face of the earth.

A typical karaoke nite for raymi:

*Go to bar, find table and order booze.

*Excitedly choose 5 songs and give them to person in charge of karaoke. Ask karaoke person how long the wait is before turn.

If friends with karaoke person then ask to be bumped ahead of other people. (obviously more important that other people in the bar)

*Chain smoke and drink until turn at the mic

*Get real nervous and insecure before turn at the mic

*Name is finally called to sing

*Sing song nervously, talking to the audience in-between verses. Beginning to feel like superstar

*Walk back to table staring at the floor, grinning like an idiot. Feeling embarrassed as shit but very proud of self

*More booze, more cigarettes, more songs

*Make friends with other karaoke singers. Compliment their singing. Accept praise in return for own performance. Feel more like superstar

*End of nite, promise karaoke person(s) that will be back next week

*Stumble drunk-ass home, congratulating self the whole way.



ok everyone i’m a big fat liar. not going to nyc. i’ve checked into my funds situation and have come to the conclusion that it’s not such a good time to go seeing as i’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money on useless crap – thus, don’t have enough to have a good time in nyc. meh. good thing is i got myself a job thing. i start tomorrow. i’ll write a special letter to anyone who can guess what my new job is. it’s not the radio gig, ‘cos that’s a volunteer position. anyhow. i’m around. give me a shout. it’s raining today. and it smells like fish. i’m right near the atlantic coast so on misty days like today, everything smells like garbage or rotting fish heads. there was this old sketchy bum-dude hiding behind a tree in our side yard last nite. he was trying to talk to the cat. it was disturbing. and funny.

oh holy wow. someone got me that origami kit. that’s spectacular. i am never going to leave the house now. ever.

alright i just spent too long a time trying to figure out the link to this greedy wishlist thing. i’m beyond frustrated & fed-up over it. i’ve figured out that when you click BUY RAYMI A PRESENT on the left-hand column of this blog, amazon.com makes the page jump to somewhere else on their stupid amazon site – someplace i don’t want you to go to because obviously you’re only suppose to go to amazon.com if you intend to buy raymi something. right? right. so in case one decides to look at my wishlist and see the things i want, you have to press BACK and that’s how you get to the friggin’ wishlist page. or you could do a wishlist search and type in my email rawkrawk@hotmail.com i ‘m too scatter-brained right now to make it work. feel free to email me some advice on how to make it go directly to the wishylisty thing. someone better get me something after all the work i did. dammit.

ok so i’m going to NYC tomorrow. yes it’s true. i’ll be hanging with my slutty friend Genni. i’ll get as many pics as possible of me and her together so you can see all the action.

i made sushi last nite. well, tried to anyhow. i’m the only one who liked it. it came out all ugly and sloppy and tasted like salty seaweed more than anything. it’s alright ‘cos i really like the taste of seaweed and other gross things. it’s perfect for a spaz like me ‘cos i make one on the spot, pop it in my mouth then i make ten more. it’s so easy. half-assed of course.

raymi has her own radio show now. serious. it’s called, something ’bout raymi

you want me to send u a tape of my show? we’ll figger somethin’ out. i don’t promise it won’t suck.

hi you guys. no i am not dead. just been busy walking around town and doin’ the whole road trip thing. went to massachusetts again. it was fun. going to nyc this week maybe thursday. i’m tryin’ to find a job in this small town but no one seems to wanna pay a foul-mouthed canadian under the table. i’m beginning to feel like the most unemployable person in the world. really. arrr. i have new pictures of me doing bowling poses in this fancy bowling alley. i know u can’t wait.

Email from polite guy in Italy,

Hei Raymi,

I’m an italian guy and I’m writing you because I’d really appreciated whay you wrote about pussy farting.

I was just curious because we don’t have any word that you can use to indicate a pussy fart.

I made an wer reserch and I felt on your lines.

Well, just thank you and, if you really want to know my advice, I don’t think a woman had to be embarassed at all if a whoooosh comes out of her twat.

Bye,

Ruk.