A Woman’s Job

A woman’s job is not to wear lace, wear high heels, or shave her pussy, for a man…a woman’s job is not to exist solely for a man, because that would be distinctly depressing.  I don’t wake up every day thinking, gee how can I make myself uncomfortable as hell, for a man…hey here’s an idea, why don’t you guys wear high heels, and shave your balls, and then see how you like it.

 

©2013 Regan McCoy All Rights Reserved

Watching Sports

Watching sports is so boring that I would rather shoot myself in the head and bleed out all over my Monopoly money.  And why is it that guys online always ask you if you’re into watching sports??? No, ass wad, I’m not into watching sports, because I am a woman and I’d rather beat you at them in person.

©2013 Regan McCoy All Rights Reserved

Paper Money

You know what is completely asinine?  Paper money.  Oh, we’re in debt?  Really???  Um, well ok, why don’t you just print some more paper money and then we’re all good…I mean for real??  WTF!?  People are killing themselves and other people because they don’t have enough paper money to pay the bills?  People are working dead end jobs to make paper money to pay the bills?  The IRS takes all of your paper money away to pay for the government’s fuck ups?  Really!?  It’s PAPER people.  Hey, guess what…fuck you.  I am going to take a leaf from the plant in the hallway of this hotel, wipe my ass with it and call it money, and then I’m going to pay you to go fuck yourself with it.  

©2013 Regan McCoy All Rights Reserved

It’s Never a Good Thing When…

Ok, so it’s never a good thing when people say that you are a ‘free spirit.’ I had someone once tell me that they were not surprised that I wasn’t married, because I was such a free spirit…seriously???  All that means is that someone really thinks that you are a spiraling artist fuck head who has been sniffing paint so long that she can barely spell her own name anymore.  It’s like a back handed compliment, except it isn’t one.  It’s like a diplomatic way to say, hey, you really are fucked, but if I say free spirit it’ll make you feel better.  I guess that free spirits don’t need to be married because they are free to be with themselves all day and all night…isn’t that special.  Yeah, I’m a free spirit all right…and I am also a free thinker who thinks that people who say ‘free spirit’ should shut the fuck up.

©2013 Regan McCoy All Rights Reserved

April 30, 2013-Daily Diary Entry

Went to the Grocery Outlet to get more poison for my body.  There’s no end to the comedy that lies in between the aisles here…sandwiched in between the crappy stale chocolate eggs and the dog vibrators I hear a woman yell to another woman in a walker chair, “now don’t you go anywhere, you hear.”  As if the 8500 year old woman who was positioned right in the middle of the checkout aisles was going to zoom off in her crotch rocket and get lost on the island.  If you’re going to park her somewhere could you do it where there’s less traffic; like the parking lot.

©2013 Regan McCoy All Rights Reserved

Topic of the Day: Schools That Rip You Off and Teach You Jack Shit

If one more person tells me that they are going to school to become a “Life Coach” I am going to shoot myself in the head…I mean, it’s inevitable.  What is with the majority of “schools” popping up everywhere that are ripping people off left and right for things like, “life coaching?”  Isn’t it bad enough that so many kids have to go into debt for the rest of their lives just to pay for some “real” schooling, when most education should be free to begin with!?  What the hell is wrong with people?  You can teach yourself ANYTHING; within reason.  And, I can assure you that if you ever shot through the baby canal to get here, then you are a “certified Life Coach.”  Please, get a grip…if you are going to pay for that crap you should probably get your head examined…and hopefully now there is a school for that too…becoming an “Idiocy Counselor” should be everybody’s goal.

©2013 Regan McCoy All Rights Reserved

Daily Diary Entry – March 8, 2013

Got a nice old fashioned lecture today on how Madonna doesn’t have an ego because she studies Kabbalah…I was in an interview, so instead of stabbing myself in the forehead with the plastic fork that they gave me for the grossly over priced tomato and basil pasta salad that I ordered, I just smiled and nodded most assuredly…why does this crap happen to me; I said a little prayer, prior to touch down, that he not be loony tunes and Santa made sure that I got those light up sneakers from the poor black girl across the way…it’s just not fair; I thought that I was in the clear…positive thoughts, positive thoughts…ok, I will cut you some slack because A. you sound like you are from another country, even though you have been here for 45 years, and maybe I can’t really understand you because I can’t understand you, or I do understand you, but I choose to remain in denial because that’s the dumbest thing that anyone has ever said, B. I want this job and I could probably actually do this job because I would be mandamnfandabulous at it, C. you are a fellow artist and you and I both know that we are all supposed to be nuts…

© Regan McCoy 2013 All Rights Reserved

Happy Hour

Wow, holy crap…Happy Hour at El Mariachi tonight consists of: $1.00 tacos and free bull rides…how can I pass that up…I wonder how many classy women will show up this time…mmm, not sure…most women wouldn’t dream of even giving up a face ride to any guy who actually frequents a bar called El Mariachi to begin with; let alone willingly spread their legs to jump on a germ ridden, slippery bull and bob around like a horny fuck monster in front of them all.  But, you never know…

©Regan McCoy 2013 All Rights Reserved

March 5, 2013-Daily Diary Entry

I look outside my window and see the old asian man walking again; every day, come rain, or shine, he is out there walking around.  It seems to me that he is always exercising his joints to  try and remain limber in his old age.   He’s dressed in his usual attire; the beanie, sunglasses, jacket, sweats and tennis shoes…up and down the stairs he goes…round and round the  perimeters he wonders…he always smiles at me and I always smile back; I wave and say, “hi.”  He doesn’t speak English, but who cares; we understand one and other…I look forward to seeing him every day…it’s my ritual now…and one thing always remains painfully clear to me; that whilst most days I have been inside waiting for death, he is always outside trying to soak up what is left of life.

© Regan McCoy 2013 All Rights Reserved