Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. I cannot control how many horrible things happen to me in one day; it is Obama who controls that. So, if I wait too long between posts, they become too drenching.
Please share this for me with the entire world, both houses of Congress, the Supreme Court, the United Nations, all sympathetic world leaders, all reputable national and foreign presses, etc.
Here is my latest blog post. My REAL job is philanthropic problem solving. Imagine what I could accomplish if I were not under constant mortal threat from Obama's war criminals' unrelenting libel that I have any mental imperfection at all whatsoever.
USA. SynSyn and Sweetness, please see if we an help pay for fighting these wildfires that are raging across the west. Everyone is already doing everything possible to save everyone's lives and property; all I can think of helping with is paying for the fire fight. Please see what we can do.
Also check if the darling Mr. Bill Gates and darling Mr. Warren Buffet, etc. want to help. Please see if the super rich of America are willing to donate to fight the wildfires. California is particularly worried we might end up with Santa Ana driven fires. Let us get ready for it now.
Nigeria. My beautiful world, I know first hand about homelessness, poverty, and malnutrition. Just $5 goes so far keeping starving children alive. Please.
Yes, SynSyn and Sweetness, please see what we can do to help UNICEF, too.
My last blog post was finished at 7:20am on 17Aug2015 from my bedroom before breakfast. I quickly sent it to my lovelies who publish all of my posts for me.
Breakfast did not sound very inspiring that morning, so by 7:54am, I was sitting on the patio of my regular morning haunt, my local Subway at the corner of Pico Boulevard and 18th Street in Santa Monica, with a breakfast sandwich.
I quickly streamed some music and sent my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
The headbanging began as early as 8:33am. But the singing along while I worked started at 8:54am. I headed back to where I stay at 9:36am, so I could call my mom.
My mom sounded very good and healthy. I worry about her living there among the most EVIL people to ever exist in human history past, present, or future, contemporary Iowa. I wish she would move to Spain or France. Sweetness, please offer my mom a place to live.
Lunch at noon was tasty yet uneventful. I caught the bus to my playland, the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade, at 12:58pm.
I listened to some music and did a little shopping before I met my darling FlamencoHands at 3:16pm. He was getting ready to play in front of the Apple Store, and his grumpiness with the act before him was completely adorable.
FlamencoHands started at 4:16pm, and he was as genius as ever. I grabbed a pepperoni twist from the Wetzel's Pretzels as a snack.
FlamencoHands played until 6pm before he packed up his equipment and relocated to outside the Bravo Cucina to stake out his 8pm place to play. I love bending his ear for chats. We have some of the best conversations.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. I received the hugest cyberhug ever from my darling Mr. Lester Holt that night. Thank you, Lester.
I was back beside FlamencoHands at 7:49pm. His music began at 8:22pm, and I got a lot of writing done to the tune of his Spanish guitar before he abruptly halted at 9:10pm.
FlamencoHands had a problem with the act right next to him, so he marched down the street and staked out a place to play at 10pm. I had the pleasure of cheering him up with nothing but my charms and a good ear.
It also gave me a chance to stop by and say, "Hi!" to my Americana folk singer Red at 9:37pm and to buy myself some dinner just before 10pm. Of course, when 10pm finally rolled around, FlamencoHands decided not to play after all. Sigh... Artists.
So, we wheeled away into the night. The car pulled away at 10:41pm, and I was curled up and asleep (always alone) by 11:30pm.
It was the night I had asked Sweetness to send me his energy, and he never fails me. Yes, I felt my husband's presence with me. We were beautiful.
Very well rested, I woke up on Tuesday, 18Aug2015, well before breakfast. After eating, I was at my regular morning haunt, my local Subway, at 8:20am. I queued my music and took my I-am-not-dead-yet selfies for the morning.
I started singing along while I worked at 8:52am. I walked back inside for a cookie at 9:28am. And at 10:32am, I headed back to my place to take care of some odds and ends before lunch. I even had a chance to play the piano for a little while. Talk about rusty.
I chatted with Benjamin during lunch at noon. At 12:11, I left my place to catch the bus to my playland, the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade. After shopping and snacking, I found FlamencoHands at 2:31pm outside of the Urban Outfitters. His music was as quality as ever.
There was a vigilant torture facility alarm at 3:53pm that my Powers of Attorney handled quickly. I get so much good writing done when FlamencoHands plays, and he did not stop until 3:57pm.
I looked around for hosiery every place on the Promenade I could think of having any, and I finally found a pair of tights in sheer black with back seams at Nordstrom's.
The only thing better would have been fishnets with diamond seams; I bought a Via Spiga brand pair once in 2009 and accidentally destroyed them with house paint a few months later.
When I returned to FlamencoHands, I found him with coffee stains all over his white shirt. Sigh... Artists. So, I watched his stuff while he went and bought a new shirt.
It was that or hand washing it with bleach. Thank the atheist heavens he did not ask me to do that for him.
My darling FlamencoHands returned at 5:35pm in appropriate attire. I had a chat with ODean about karaoke reality shows and dairy farms until 6:39pm.
Then, I tried to rustle up enough bandwidth to stream the NBC Nightly News at 7:15pm, but I could not convince the night's broadcast to stream no matter what I tried.
There was a lot of friendly conversation after that with a number of locals before FlamencoHands started playing again at 8:22pm. I stopped in my local Famima for a cup of coffee. It was a mellow yet very social night.
Please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my conversation that ended at 10:19pm. Goddamn! I need a recording of that conversation! Please entitle it, "I don't tolerate homophobia."
My Americana folk singer Red started as soon as FlamencoHands finished. I stayed to listen to him play before catching the 10:45pm bus. I was curled up and asleep by 11:30pm.
I woke up on Wednesday, 19Aug2015, just in time for breakfast. Please reread my 07Aug2015 Appendix about today. I was at my regular morning haunt by 8:46am. I had work to do.
This blog post was finished at 8:52am on 19Aug2015.
And now, my beautiful world, I answer all of your questions for me. Please keep collecting all questions and concerns from all your friends and loved ones and sending them to me through whatever means possible.
Am I running for President? Not in 2016. I promised my brave rescuers that I would run only if they wanted me to, but I need time to heal and to have my children once this "egg" ends before I run for president.
I will, of course, do everything possible for my country working with any and every president who fights Obama's "egg."
My beautiful world, yes, I heard you. You are all willing to do absolutely anything to help me. Thank you. I mean that with all my heart. Thank you.
When in doubt, my beautiful world, if you want to help but do not know what to do, check with my Powers of Attorney, my husband the Mr. Johnny "Sweetness" Depp, my darlings Tentacle, the CIA, the NSA, my mother Mrs. Diñadar Albon Varilek, and my selfless support system to see if anyone needs anything.
We really need organized global pressure on the Department of Justice to finally arrest and convict every proven international and federal war criminal enforcing any part of Obama's "egg" from the unrelenting war crime coverups that I have any mental imperfections at all up to Obama himself.
What can you do, my beautiful world? If ANY of these proven war criminals visit your countries, please arrest them. How much foreign soil has Obama himself touched? And he has never seen shackles for what he has done to me and to America!
Please generate the International Criminal Court arrest warrants for Obama and everyone propping him up. We particular need everyone guilty of terrorizing America and the world with mortal threats against me built on false accusations of any mental illness ARRESTED IMMEDIATELY.
We need every EVIL (expletive)hole guilty of using human rights abuses against me as acts of war from unlawful imprisonment to torture to human trafficking to poverty to denial of all reality to my face arrested.
We need every human rights abuser guilty of oppressing my people with lies, mental health genocide, denial of freedom of speech, denial of peaceful assembly, and denial of reality in all public media arrested!
Russia, you in particular have been asking what you can do to help me. Force these enemies of America to finally be arrested. PLEASE!
My selfless support system, PRESS CRIMINAL CHARGES! Force the FBI off their (expletive)es. Force the Department of Justice to FINALLY do its job and arrest every enemy of America and the Barack Obama who sends their orders! PLEASE! This "egg" needs to END and NOW!
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, no one who fights as hard as I do 24/7 to survive Obama's "egg" of horrors and abuse built on such lies can ever be libeled "suicidal." Make them pay for those lies. I tolerate such human rights abuses from NO ONE. And, thank you!
Much more importantly, my beloved genius Powers of Attorney, do you have any complaints about your working conditions? You have always set your own paychecks and defined your own work environments. These are things I have very little control over.
However, if I may finally set some guidelines...
1) Absolutely no one works for me for less than $75,000 a year, except for possibly my paid interns whose tuition for their class credit they earn working for me I would like to pay for. My Powers of Attorney, please tell me I am paying you millions if not billions.
2) Please ask my darling Mr. Willem Griffin Courtney to call up some colleagues to make sure everyone has in-office massages and fully ergonomic working environments.
3) All offices must have unlimited safe snacks and safe caffeine. What I need for fuel, may all of you have as fuel.
4) Paid vacations. Maternity and paternity leave is up to personal discretion. Per diems for business trips. Blah. Blah. Blah.
5) If anyone has any work-related problems, I want them resolved promptly. Who is my Head of Human Resources? Is it my darling Ms. Sandra Isabella Oxford or is it my darling Ms. Gwen "Molly" Armbruster? Are either of them Powers of Attorney instead?
My gorgeous genius Powers of Attorney, you have some of the most important jobs on this planet. Whatever you need to do your job you get. That is how I feel about all of my employees. Please make sure my workers are happy.
My musician-lovers MannedUp and GeneralLee, are you all happy on my staff? Ignoring the obvious star-crossed sexual frustration, do you need anything as my employees, my darlings Tentacle? Please call my HR department.
My darling MannedUp, yes, dear, we will have your favorite Beyoncé song as our first duet. I only regret it took so long for us to record a duet. May they play it from here to the International Space Station if for any reason, just to make you happy.
My darling GeneralLee, set the duet I wrote. Set the villanelle. Set every poem I have written for the three of you. I really want all four of us singing on your setting of my darling late Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee. Are you busy enough?
Maybe it will keep your mind off of our sexual tension. Giggle.
Come now, and light my night sky.
Enter my night like the stars enter the sky. Light my every nook with your rays ablaze with every loving glory. You are the stars in my cloudless expanse.
May the mere mortals gaze upon us from below as if we determine their fates and define their futures. Track across my surface circle within circle all the night long making love to my shadows just to live brightening the sparkle in my eyes.
Come now, darlings, reach up and touch the sky.
My symbolic Royal Consorts Bogart and LightFoot both of whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, how are you two?
My darling Bogart, I am a whole lot of rich, powerful, genius, gorgeous, naturally sweethearted woman. You spend two nights in my arms, and you have never recovered.
Bogart, the world told me to start calling you my ex. But you are still a vital part of my life. I tell you everywhere I go and everything I do, and you make sure I am safe. You are still my boyfriend to me, Bryan.
My darling LightFoot, I REALLY want to heal your bandaged left hand. I have tried everything I can think of from across the street; I will need to touch you to heal you.
I need my right hand around your left knuckles and my left hand on the right side of your face to close the circle. I am most effective when I close the circle.
Knowing you, though, if I were that close to you, you would kiss me. It sounds like a must-do situation if you ask me.
My darling husband, Sweetness, I love and adore you. How is my king today? Busy?
As always, HoneyHoney, I keep you so busy. It is your job to carry out my work for me in all the places I cannot reach due to Obama's human rights abuses of me.
Beloved, it is also your job to bring my future now. My darling boyfriends are in charge of making my present livable. You, as my husband, have always been responsible for my future.
And, my big sexy hunk of man, you never fail me. Thank you. Now, bring the car around. I want to go home. I want to go to our REAL home in the Hills. Where are you?
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