I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT, DAMN IT!!!

Actually, that's not quite true, but hell, who cares. I know what I want, just not how to get it. I don't know of any website that offers a meeting place for poor, fat, red heads to be pampered and adored by rich men who don't want to suck'n'fuck indiscriminately.

You see, what I really want, is really easy to understand. I just don't know of any man who would be willing to give me what I want.

Right now, I want a man who will buy me things, pay for an apartment for me, pamper me, spoil me rotten without expecting me to fuck him, without expecting me to cook and clean and share my apartment, stuff, life, space, tec.

However, there's no one out there who just wants to give me stuff. So, I guess I have to work for it. Damn it.

So, if I have to work for it, what do I want to do??? I WANT to sit on my ass and be pampered, I AM the Queen of the world after all... *chuckles*

Seriously tho, my skills? I can type, I know office computer software, I've done reception and office managerial shit for four and a half years. Hell, I've been office manager in two different offices.

I know Win 3.1, NT, 95 and 98 - Works, Word 97, Microsoft Office, Quick Books Deluxe, Word Perfect, Word Pad, Write, IBM and some Mac, *thinks for a few moments, wondering if she's got her resume close* Um, I've been writing for 16 years or so.... I've got a great voice. 3 1/2 octave range, actually. I've been Classically trained. I write music and lyrics, I sing, I play piano and guitar.....

*sighs quietly* I can cook really well. I am one of the most kind and tender people in the world...... but I will NOT clean, and especially not clean as a job. *smirks*

So what am I really saying?

I need to get my head out of my ass long enough to actually see where I'm going. You see, folks, I have this nearly incurable disease called Cranial Rectumitis.

I was sitting at dinner tonight with my Mother, she's revving up for lecture number four in a series. *chuckles quietly* She's trying to decide on whether or not to give me an ultimatum, or let me go on being a recluse, the "hunchback hiding in the attic". *chuckles quietly*

I don't know. I go back, in my mind, to that time two years ago when I was in the hospital after that head on. By the way, if you see a KenWorth Semi (18 wheeler) comin at ya, get out of the way. *chuckles*

Anyway, as I was layin there, after the surgery, week of Morphine, four hours in the MRI machine sans pain killers, dislocated hip, broken femur and all the other shit that went with it.... The nurse made a big fuckin deal about how I took ONE step after the surgury. I got out of the bed and took one step.

*rolls her eyes* My Mother was standing there, watching me, so proud and scared at the same time. And ya know what? She said to me... "You're doing such a good job. You really are a Tiger." *rolls her eyes* I knew the truth, and I told her so.

"Mom, I don't feel like a tiger. I feel like a dust bunny, hiding under the bed."

*chuckles quietly* Ya know what's worse? My father took pictures of me. There's nothing more embarrassing then that. Being doped up on Morphine. Being in traction, looking like a fucking beached whale in a fucking hospital bed without a shower or bath for more than a week, in that aweful, disgusting gross hospital gown...

Gack. And my folks wanted to keep these pictures. Why, I ask you? Why? Why would you voluntarily look at a picture of a frickin beached whale?

I'm not talking like a young, five-pounds-over-weight female complaining about how much she weighs. I'm seriously fat here, folks. See, another reason that no guy would ever be willing to simply pamper me is cause my body is so disgustingly NON attractive to any male in existance....

Yadda yadda yadda... the last thing I need is to be bitching about what I can not fix in a heart beat. *smirks*

Hey, anyone got a magic wand? While you're giving me money and adoration, make me look like my RP character Tiger. *smirks* That bitch is stacked, man. And she's got muscles everywhere. *smirks*

I mean, this is the physical description of Tiger. *smirks*

She stands 6'5", weighing in at 310 lbs. She is dressed in five inch spike heeled bitch boots up to the knee, tight breeches which lace crotch to waist, tight "second-skin" bustier and heavy armored duster, all of these in black leather. She has long red hair which caresses her back, wears H&K 9mm at her right hip and Katana and Wakizashi at left hip. She has green/gray eyes and can bench press 580 lbs. She's a tough bitch. *chuckles quietly*

I want to look like that. With rock hard abs.. and then the Tats. *grins* But we'll get into the Tats at another time.

Ya know, if I had the body of Tiger, guys would be all over me. They'd actually take the time necessary to find out that I am a kind, gentle, tender woman. That I have intelligence and integrity.

But is any man out there willing to look into my eyes and really see what I truly am? NO, no one is willing to do that. There are some guys who will look "past" the physical factor... but they don't really care. They want me to be different. And NONE of them, absolutely NONE of them are going to pamper me, buy me things, take me places or spend money on me.

Because I don't have an attractive physical shape, men aren't going to expend any effort to get to know me. Just because I don't look like a fuckin twelve year old boy with plastic breasts, they don't pay any attention to me..... unless they're drunk.

*shrugs*

I think I'm gonna close this now, I've been all over the place and haven't made any actually intelligent comment at all. *smirks* Typical female that I am.

Okay, I've bitched and bitched and bitched and if you've made it this far you have far more patience than anyone else I know. Peace unto thy heart, my friends.

Tig