I don’t care if you want my life story or not, you mean, mean faggots and losers.  You have kept me down for long enough.  And if you don’t like it, you can just go catch AIDS or something since you all deserve it anyway.

I began life in a small town located in British Columbia, Canada.  I was born to a pair of escaped prison convicts who left me for dead on the side of the road.  They must have realized that they would never be capable of raising such a beautiful and obviously precocious baby girl.  It was lucky for me anyway, because only a couple minutes later, an old woman was weaving her way down the highway and saw me in my blanket on the side of the road.  She picked me up, took me home, and never looked back.

I always liked to read, and Momma (that’s what I called the old woman) encouraged it.  She was always bringing me books on all sorts of interesting subjects.  At first they were these ‘I Can Do It’ books for toddlers.  Then, as I grew older, Momma brought me books on some really great things like white supremacy, the Nazi movement, and experimental brain surgeries.

As some of you might already know, at the age of 16 I got into a car accident which left me legless.  I also had to get a colostomy done, and as a result, I can never have a normal life again.  So you can see why I’m justified in being angry at the world.  But anyway, the guy who was driving the car ended up dying, so I guess I got off lucky.  Which is really rather lucky for all of you! 

I met Clarence when I was 18 and trying to make ends meet by telling fortunes to people over the phone (I never was too successful at that, though.  I think most people didn’t like the fact that I could tell it like it is and basically pinpoint them for the losers that they obviously were.).  He later told me that he had fallen in love with me before we’d even met in person.  He also didn’t care about my stumps or my shit bag, since he was missing a couple body parts too (but that’s my secret to keep!).  So it was a fair trade-off.

Making love with Clarence was anything but easy, but he made up for it when he knocked me up and asked me to be his bride.  I’ll never forget how happy Momma was when he came to the house for me and my things.  In fact, I never saw her that happy in my whole life. 

We made do with what little we had.  Clarence’s job at the gas station didn’t pay much.  I worked part time at a local McDonalds right up until I went into labor.  We had a son and named him Junior.  It was the proudest moment of my life.  Well, at least until we discovered that all of the pushing had caused my intestine to spill out into my shit bag.  It was off to the nursery for Junior and the operating room for me!

Life was good for awhile.  I continued to work part time at McDonalds while Clarence put in as many hours as possible at the gas station.  Junior stayed with Momma while we were out working.  Then, about five years into the marriage, things started to turn sour.  Clarence worked a lot, and was bringing in pretty good money, but he worked so much that I never got to see him.  Junior started kindergarten and I found a marijuana joint in his backpack after the second day of school!  My world really came crumbling down when Clarence finally showed up at home with a 14 year old tramp and told me that he was leaving me.

I took Junior and moved back in with Momma.  Apparently, my marriage to Clarence had never actually been legal, so we didn’t have to worry about a divorce.  And here I’d actually believed Clarence when he told me that the man at the end of the bar was a minister! 

The next several years are a blur.  Too many lonely nights.  Junior started messing around with drugs more and more and cussing me out all the time.  But all of that didn’t matter anymore once 1982 hit.  I had found Duran Duran.

I spent all of my spare time (which was pretty much all the time) writing letters to the original five.  John was my favorite.  I won’t go into all of the details here, but I sent so many packages and letters over the years that I am sure to this day that all of the guys love me, but just haven’t had the time to reply because of their busy schedules.

I found true love again about 10 years ago with a 64 year old, retired businessman who has no sight in his right eye, only about 25% of his sight in the left eye, and is hard of hearing.  How I got so lucky is beyond me.  We now have three small children.  And he has always been supportive of my views and my adoration for Duran Duran.

I remember being so disappointed in John when I found out he had a drug problem.  I wrote a long, teary letter to him.  And you know what?  I found out not long afterward that he’d entered a rehab and got himself cleaned up.  I was so happy that he took my advice.

About a year ago I found TTP.  Unfortunately, I also found all of you.  I have never met so many jealous, screwed up losers in my life.  Here I was, only telling the truth about all of you, and you just can’t face it all and own up to your many faults.  No, you get mad at me, which is just really petty.  You all can’t stand that I have a close and personal relationship with John and Patty.  You can’t stand that I refuse to apologize for my beliefs.  Oh well, you’re all a lost cause anyway.  Bad parents, drug addicts, faggots, dykes, and just plain losers, all of you!  It’s not my problem that you are all going to hell.  

Losers.