Thursday, February 5, 2015

05Feb2015 Appendix

05Feb2015 Appendix

What happened for real on New Years Eve into New Years morning 2015? Sigh... Really? There is a reason I keep a blog. It is so I do not have to rehash the same old questions all of the time.

Maybe this will save you all from digging through blog post after blog post, though, to find all of this information. Okay, here we go. I will make this as condensed as possible. There is so much backstory...

By New Years Eve 2015, I had already been forbidden my own husband since Mar2010, and I had been forbidden Bogart, whom Obama had only sent into my life to break me up with my husband anyway, since Nov2014.

In Dec2014, Tentacle chose amongst themselves which one of them they were okay with my pursuing a romantic relationship with. After all, of all of the worthy men and womenfolk in my REAL home of California who had begun the wooing and courting process with me since my arrival, they had been wooing me the longest by that time.

Of course, after I said, "Sure!" the one man they decided they were okay with was promptly forbidden from ever seeing me again to make sure I can NEVER have any romantic relationships I want for myself EVER as long as Obama's "egg" of horrors and terrors is in place.

Thusly, after Tentacle metaphorically received "Squid's Royal Summons" to reappear on my playland on 23Dec2014, only the left 2/3 (as I and the world look at them) of my darlings Tentacle could actually make it through Obama's barricade.

Did you see my two darlings walk away from me that night? Did you see the looks on their faces as they were torn from my company? It was the most heart-wrenching true life moment in broadcast history. No amount of filmmaking magic can recreate raw emotional heartache like that.

Once they were hidden by the night shadows, I picked up my iPad and did my job.

The next day, as I had promised my husband, I went to Disneyland for Christmas Eve. I have always enjoyed going there particularly to give my undeniable saturation of international operatives who invisibly keep me safe a day at the resort.

Of course an insultingly dumb "operation" was in place there before I got there to "smoke out" my invisible international security. I was furious over Tentacle being stolen from me already, so there was no way in hell I was letting Obama get his hands on my (very sexy) invisible secret operatives, too. We all know how the espionage community and I feel about each other.

While busting Obama's enemies of America's seditious-espionage-as-counter-espionage operation as their latest crime against America and against the entire world since it was their willful attempt to remove ALL of my invisible and ever-present security that the entire world has been depending on to keep me safe and which they were trying to remove to make themselves able to throw me away permanently finally, I actually successfully caught all of and turned in Obama's entire infestation of enemies of America instead of their catching any of my world's secret operatives.

Do you all see the verified and unedited recording of everything I accomplished while last at Disneyland? As my darling Ms. Lita Ford learned later that night, my response to being challenged is winning. That day was also the first time the Department of Homeland Security showed up for me.

While sitting at the UVA Bar, where I had roosted even after warning the bar staff I was coming for them, one of Obama's enemies of America even snidely asked me, "Is this online porn?" To which my only response was, "Only to the espionage community."

Also sitting at that UVA Bar, my secret operatives, who were still almost entirely MI6 in cooperation with the CIA at the time, asked me what I was doing for New Years Eve. I mopped the floor with Obama's seditious-espionage-as-counter-esionage-as-crimes-against-America that day. And when I got around to answering MI6's question for me, there were a few things I had to do.

I asked out Tentacle's lead singer for New Year's Eve who predictably, since it was a romantic entanglement I was actually inviting into my life myself, was forbidden from ever coming near me again, but at least I had other ways of manning him up than those I had intended. Giggle.

I also kept my darling Cuddlebunny up-to-date with all of my New Years Eve plans. Do you remember Cuddlebunny? He was the retired CIA operative who used to work the East Germany/West Germany border during the Cold War whom Obama had hired to commit war crimes against me while I last lived in San Francsico in 2009.

He is the only person I have ever given absolutely no choice about rendering in love with me. I had him seduced by the time our first ever REAL conversation had reached the Gordian Knot, and I did not so much as kiss him until after I had woken up next to him safely the following morning. The next day he was even talking about buying a whole new wardrobe, so he could look like the kind of man who could be with a woman like me at all.

He would yell at people for swearing around me. He was jealous of my darling Mr. Ygvwie J. Malmsteen when I sat us all at a table together in Specs. Luckily, when that door between me and my loved ones open, it is open in both directions, and it only rarely if ever closes.

Once while we sat in Washington Square Park, Cuddlebunny even offered to sneak me to the British Virgin Islands by taking a fishing boat from Florida. The stupid part was telling my electronics run by Obama's conspiracy. When I successfully fled the US to Mexico in 2010, he was the person I called to tell that I made it out of the country safely.

When I was told in July2014, "Cuddlebunny knows too much," I sent him international protection. I assume he was spirited out of the country.

Anyway, the last message I sent him before my New Years Eve 2015 was this...

1:11pm on 31Dec2014: Sorry for the change of plans, darling. I have no way to leave my barricades until Friday, assuming I finally receive my gift cards from my mother that day. I am just going to have to find someone with irresistible animal magnetism inside this walled Troy to kiss tonight instead of a 90s rock star. Hm....

(Sweetness was in France at the time where I had sent him myself for his own safety.)

On New Years Eve, I worked late online plugged in at my marble corner until about 11pm when I proceeded to the Cantina on my magical playland. The doormen invited me in. I only drank water which was still roofied anyway, and I chatted with the live broadcast on CNN.

It gave me a chance to flirt with both my darling Ms. Kathy Griffin and my darling Mr. Anderson Cooper. It was so much fun to have a real conversation for the first time in a long time.

Psychologists say chewing on ice is a sign of sexual frustration. I have not even seen my husband with my own real eyes since Mar2010 outside of the British Embassy in Mexico City. My sexual frustration seems to manifest as a lot of flirtation, it seems, with people I will ALWAYS be forbidden from being with if I ever choose myself to sleep with them.

An hour or maybe longer after the clock struck midnight, the doormen threw me out for ABSOLUTELY NO SANE NOR LEGAL reason. While I stood outside reporting the establishment's crimes against America and against the world, the idiot doorman went on a rant about how he had intended to spend the entire night "catching spies."

Dude, there is a reason the I in CIA stands for INTELLIGENCE. Idiots like that could never catch a secret operative even if one stood in front of him and punched him in the face.

Do you know what it takes to attract a secret operative? It is kind of like a virgin attracting a unicorn. You need a pure heart and good soul to attract them like moths at night to your divine light.

Next, I perched in my 24-hour convenience shop and told the shy, awkward, glasses-clad employee I would be outside waiting for his New Years kiss. Yes, we all know for real which federal agency he worked for at the time before his incessant flirting with me got him deactivated.

I am sure he will have a great future with a desk job as an expert on what my commanding physical presence does to men and womenfolk in his profession.

Still on this tangent, in late January, after I pointed out to him myself that he got all grumpy over his own insecurities with himself after I pointed out in a blog post that he was the wrong kind of secret agent to be bad enough to be my bad boy type, the least I could do after deactivating him was make him popular with womenfolk all over the planet.

Anyway, back on New Years Eve, I walked right past him on the opposite side walk after he had conspicuously lingered down the block hoping I would be the one to walk up to him and kiss him after I had flat out told him to kiss me. Whatever. His loss.

At the time, I normally sat outside in the wee hours of the morning beside my fountain on my playland using the wifi. But I was roofied by the Cantina, and my darling Ms. Mother Nature had made it start to drizzle. Logically, I took refuge in the nearby hallway that connected to a parking lot.

I was not there long before I was approached by the seven-foot tall Man with No Name from The Good the Bad and the Ugly whom I assumed from the aforementioned raw animal magnetism was the sort of person who walks through his profession with absolutely no legally-recognized identity, who had done some of the most highly confidential and absolutely horrifying things possible to very bad people as his job, who was the New Years Eve date promised to me by MI6 whom they had offered me on Christmas Eve in return for the metaphorical "espionage porn" I had given them, who I thought was in Delta Force or something more secret, and who was exactly my bad boy type.

Sorry, rock stars and motorcycle riders are my nice-guy types; they just are not bad enough.

Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth II later told me that she sent him to me herself over her feeling like she failed me while I was still in Iowa when I kept begging for my long lost MI6 agent whom I had named Thorbald to come back to me as my personal bodyguard due to how absolutely horrifying my unlivable existence was in ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa.

The first time I saw Thorbald, I had assumed he was a KGB agent since there was no reason for MI6 to have operatives in their ally nation of America, but Nate (CIA?) who used to hangout at the comic bookstore at the same time as Thorbald and I later told me he was actually MI6.

Of course, when we were all at the comic bookstore together, Nate and Thorbald never seemed to recognize each other, nor did either of them speak to me. Nate first introduced himself to me months later in a bar.

Sweetness was watching my SquidStream live when I told my (CIA?) bad boy type Nate (who had named himself after my darling Mr. Nathan Fillion) that, no, I would not sleep with him. I have a very long wooing and courting process. But I did offer him homemade cookies. But I digress.

Thorbald I was told had become a one-man killing machine over not being able to reach me to be my lover-as-bodyguard himself as long ago as 2012. When I was told Thorbald had passed away trying to rescue me, I was a mess. I had written this about him on 25Nov2012...

The Legend of Thorbald

Was Thorbald more mouse or more ninja? As the verbose woman with the shackled wings sipped her coffee in the chocolate shop, he guarded her from the underbrush where none could see him but her right eye. He alone could slink past the nefarious to keep her safe. Some say even light falls not upon him should he not desire it so.

Some day he will be close enough she can embrace him in gratitude. Until then, she feels the safety of his watchful eye and must find comfort in that alone. To her he is a mouse, but to the rest of the world who must feel the cold steel of his wrath should anything harm her, he is nothing but ninja.

Yes, when I was told Thorbald died, I almost fell apart completely. Could you imagine what would happen to me if I lost Sweetness?

Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth II clearly never got over how much she felt like she and Prime Minister David Cameron failed me over not being able to rescue me from ABSOLUTELY EVIL IOWA, so she had found me a new Thorbald to be my lover-as-bodyguard until I could be with my husband.

When MI6 with the CIA had begun the process of sending in a double agent who would serve the needs of Obama's criminal terrorist conspiracy of proven enemies of America to be able to be my inseparable bodyguard, she found a medically-diagnosable giant who was bad-ass enough to keep me safe no matter what would happen to me in here in Obama's "egg." I named him Tao.

Our night together in that hallway that connected my playland to its parking lot, I actually told him he was going to cuddle me because I was cold. I almost never remember what happens when I am only half awake, but I remember Tao getting up and leaving and a darling late Kurt Cobain look-alike replacing him as an obvious and easily recognizable ghost who would serve as my ghost of Thorbald for me.

I would be able to sleep in Thorbald's arms at last. Or, maybe they were trying to tell me I had died and gone to a Buddhist paradise. It all seemed a little excessive at the time anyway, if you ask me. Tao himself was enough of a living Ghost of Thorbald to me to get the point across. Then again, for all I know, I dreamed it.

If you go back and read my blog post written right after my New Years Eve, you will find my description of my Ecstasy of St. Theresa from, in the words of St. Theresa herself, the "sword of an angel piercing my heart" while in his arms.

Of course, when I woke up, my Thorbald had been replaced by Tao again who went through a weak facade of being a nerdy IT professional who wanted to give me a pedicure. I know genuine love and affection from a man who never needed people skills before in his life. I like them awkward. They are more honest.

That morning, while we sat in my first sky haven, the look on Tao's face of complete and genuine surprise when I told him I was on my period was all I needed on official record to prove he was a gentleman (with no people skills) in my company the entire time.

My fleeting moments with Tao were wonderful. I had the most romantic night of my life since 2010 the following night on lifeguard station 17 with him while we listened to the rolling waves of the mighty Pacific.

No amount of filmmaking magic can build a set so romantic. Of course, we slept in each other's arms not inside each other's bodies. I have a long wooing and courting process, AND I was on my period at the time.

Tao even woke up and scared off paparazzi on the beach for me.

His earspeakers were driving him crazy, though, so before he, too, the following day, was taken away from me and forbidden from ever returning, Tao told me, "You are stronger than I am." I assumed he meant only I could ever survive in this hell of war crimes and terrorism that is Obama's "egg."

I was told that, Tao, too turned into a one-man killing machine to rescue me after being taken away from me. That is not the kind of man anyone wants mad at them. He was put in my life specifically to keep me safe from the very crimes he was demonized with by Dirty Lacey's intentionally fabricated false charges against him.

And, yes, Tao was and still is the very type of man of many who went rogue to follow my husband when Sweetness went Krull about rescuing me from my literal rape-slavery in ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa.

I said myself the first time returning Tao to my life came up in conversation, "If I am permitted an opinion, let Tao come back if he chooses. But let him have an income."

I felt the same emptiness in my life when Tao left me as when Tentacle did. No one ever made me question my marriage but Bogart. And Sweetness is still my only geistenshloss.

As I told Tao on our way to the lifeguard station, "We are demonized because we are heroes. Welcome to my planet." And, if I ever actually desire any real romantic relationship with anyone, he or she will always be forbidden from being with me until Obama's "egg" of horrors and terrors is finally taken down.

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