How much more can I take

Fudge! I mean I've been reading this fan fiction about Constantine Maroulis all day. It's one in the morning now and I'm only on message number 379 of 1267. How many times can you freakin' look deeply into his eyes, kiss his top lip, bottom lip, full lip, and grab his hand while he leads you down the freakin' hall to the bedroom. It was cool at first and I laughed, cried, gazed dreamily into the air, but now I'm tired. But I want to know how this darn story ends. Now Constantine has given the girl a key to his place and begged her to stay every night for two weeks. So when they get home from anywhere they always plop down on the couch, have a beverage, kiss, talk, and make love.

Ok say it was me writing this story instead of the current author. It wouldn't work. Ok I have written fan fiction about Constantine but it was more fun than romantic. And I've totally been mindful of my marriage no matter how miserable it is. I think this chick is married too but she doesn't freakin' care. In fact I caught her on another topic crying about how she met Constantine and she can't stop thinking about him--not even long enough to be a wife to her husband. She needs him more and more. Well stop writing this freakin' deluded story about him. But like I said I was enjoying it for the first four hours I was reading it.

Back to what I was saying. I mean if it were me in the story there would have to be a line when Constantine goes "what the heck" after it gets a little too toasty in his bedroom and my hair gets puffy and I start to look like a porcupine or a witch (not the charmed ones). Then when he tries to run his fingers through my hair they'll get stuck in my naps. For those of you who don't understand, his hands will get stuck in my natural woolly hair when the method of straightening I have utilized has failed due to the moisture in the air or from my (our) sweat. Ok then I'd have to run and find a nice Egyptian man or some ghetto beauty salon where I could get my hair pressed right quick. Then Constantine will try and run his fingers through my hair and of course I would have forgotten that I just got a press and curl and the poor guy's hand will be full of grease and the whole mood of the evening would be ruined.

You know what I'm going to stop right there. I was going to add how hairy I am and how the girl keeps taking these showers which you think Constantine is going to join her in but he just ends up bringing her a towel and she never shaves. I have to shave like twice a day to keep my legs smooth. Poor Constantine will be getting scratched by stubble--I'm sorry I'm going to stop right now. But the last white guy who touched my new growth dropped dead. No I'm serious. I let dear Aanon touch my new growth when I needed a touch up and right before sophomore year he was dead with no real explanation. So I haven't let any more white guys in on the secret. I did let my ex try to oil my scalp once but the results were disastrous. I probably wanted him to drop dead by that time in our relationship though.
Well I'm going to go back to this story but there is only so much I can take and I'm going to run away from the computer screaming and hollering ENOUGH!!! And only about a month of time has elaspsed in almost 400 posts. I can't even say luv you Constantine after this.

But back in the 90s I loved my fan fiction about David Duchovny or rather about Agent Mulder. *sigh* He's alright but he's not really cute anymore now that he isn't Mulder. He was cute on Who Want's to be a Millionaire because Regis kept calling him Mulder and he was wearing all black. Gosh I wanted to marry Agent Mulder--NOT--David Duchovny mind you. He wasn't even cute in Red Shoe Diaries. (Didn't I say I was about to end this post a minute ago?) He played this poor sap who's woman cuckolded him. Let me explain...now see you all know you saw that movie but didn't actually pay attention to the story line like I did. His beautiful exotic girlfriend--I don't think they were engaged--cheated on him after he ran her bath water and bathed her, worshipped the ground she spat on, and freakin' took care to her every want and need. She cheated on him with this guy who sold her red shoes--a freakin' shoe salesman. Then the passion is too much for her and it consumes her, plus she can't live with the fact she cheated on David Duchovny. So she kills herself. I mean he drew her a freakin' bubble bath and played this really cool song that is on the first Pure Moods CD *phew* and even reached his hand into the tub--enough I'm done. Stick a fork in me I'm done. After I get divorced it's me and Constantine, my nappy hair, two screaming babies, a Mary Kay career, and graduate school. I really need some sleep. I haven't slept four hours in 2 days now and it's so freakin' hot!

Goodnight.