Totally moved my blog.
|Check out my bitchin bracelet. Yeeaaahhhh.|
Exported Voracious Vividity over to:
So go there now! W00t!
This is the North American cover. The German one is an avocado, which is honestly more gross than an armpit once you know the context.
As far back as I can remember, I've had hemorrhoids.
[...] I would scratch at my butthole in my sleep so much that I'd wake up in the morning with a brown stain in my underwear the size of the top of a cork. That's how much it itched, and that's how deep I'd stick my finger in. So yes, I'd say it's very unladylike.She spends the first two pages describing her hemorrhoids and how she'd ignored them for many years for fear of someone finding out. She talks about what treatments she's had, and what salve she had to stop the itching. I'm not even joking.
|Like this, but on an asshole.|
It's also a good way to test whether someone is serious about me. During one of the first few times I have sex with somebody new, I get us into my favourite position: doggy-style, me on all fours with my face down, him behind me with his tongue in my pussy and his nose in my ass. He's got to work his way in there, because the hole is covered with the vegetable. I call this position "stuff your face," and so far nobody has complained.After cringing at the visual of this, I have to say there's actually a good theme in this passage. In general, it says that to be with someone, you have to love everything about them, the good and the bad. That includes cauliflower ass.
Back to shaving my ass.Roche does a lot of this in the narrative, which makes me laugh my ass of every time. "Back to-", and it's always something very blunt. It's not the best grammar, but in a story told by an eighteen year old (yes, Helen is only eighteen) girl, it's believable and hilarious.
[...] I always rush it and end up pressing too hard. Which is exactly how I caused the anal lesion that's the reason I'm lying here in the hospital now. Blame it all on lady-shaving. Feel like Venus. Be a goddess.Also this bitch is so witty. It was at this point (by the way, we're only on page three) that I decided that I liked this character a lot. She's nasty, but she's comfortable with who she is, and she's funny as fuck.
|I feel like 'rosette' is not the best term for asshole.|
On a side note, those cupcakes look delicious.
Back to my bum.Tee hee! Anyway, she left school to go to the hospital and ended up in what she calls the "ass unit". She talks about how she's not allowed to move, and has to lay on the bed with her ass exposed towards the door so that everyone that comes in can see what's up.
And they talk about pus and an engorged blister that's hanging out of the wound on my butthole. I picture the blister like the skin on the neck of one of those tropical birds that puffs its throat out when trying to mate. A shimmering, inflated, red-blue sac.I have to point out that the imagery here is written beautifully.
|AHHHH IMAGINE THAT ON YOUR ASSHOLE!!! NOOOOOO!|
He walks out, leaving me lying in the puddle of water from the blister.Delicious. The anesthesiologist comes in, makes sure she's eighteen, and tells her how he'll be sitting by her head the entire operation to make sure she's breathing. She feels bad for him because his job is to squat the whole time.
He's brought a contract that I'm supposed to sign. It says the operation could result in incontinence. I ask how it could affect my pissing. He grins and says this refers to anal incontinence. Never heard of it. But suddenly I realize what this means: "You mean I might lose control of my sphincter muscles and then I could just crap myself anytime and anyplace and would need a diaper and stink all the time?"The 'sandman', as she calls the anesthesiologist, tells her that that rarely happens, so she signs the contract. Helen prays to god that it won't happen, that she won't have to wear a diaper at age eighteen.
And you certainly don't look cool in them.LOL.
|I literally googled "looking cool in adult diapers" and got this.|
"I don't like the idea that a part of me could end up in the trash along with aborted fetuses and appendixes without my being able to picture it. I want to hold it in my hand and examine it."Okay, I get checking shit out on your body. Everyone does it. Everyone picks at stuff on their skin, peeks into the toilet after taking a shit, looks at the q-tip after cleaning their ears, all of that crap. Anyone who says they don't is a liar. We, as humans, are obsessed with our own bodies, because these are our vessels and we can check them out as much as we want.
Like the game I play with my friend Corinna where we run through the city drunk and grab people's eyeglasses, break them, and then chuck them into the street.That's not very nice, Helen. She reflects that they had to run away quickly, because people were so pissed off that they could chase them pretty well even without their glasses. She goes on to say that the game is stupid anyway because they sober up from all of the adrenaline and it's just a big waste of money.
Actually, I'd like to give up that game anyway- sometimes at night I dream of the faces of the people whose glasses we've just plucked off. It's as if we've ripped off a body part.But then she examines it, addresses it, and reflects on how it affected the people they did it to. Which shows some growth and maturity. Which, you know, is good. Anyway, she decides to give that game up immediately, and tries to think of other things she can pledge to give up.
Maybe if it's absolutely necessary I'll give up the hookers. That would be a major sacrifice, though.There's no more explanation of this here, but you just wait for it. Helen decides instead that she's going to be the best patient the hospital has ever had.
I'll clean up my own messes. Like the fluid from my blister.She peeks around the room to see that there are rubber gloves, and a container full of wipes, diapers, disposable underwear, toweling, and plastic bed covers with cloth on one side. She puts one cloth side down to soak up the mess, and one on top cloth side up so that she's comfortable.
Well done, Helen. Despite the hellish pain, you are your own best nurse. Anyone who can take care of herself so well with definitely recuperate quickly. I'll have to be a bit more hygienic here in the hospital than I am outside in my normal life.Thus ends chapter 1, with a wonderful segue into chapter 2. I won't spoil the opening line of the next chapter, but I think you can guess where this is going.
|Let's just say this entire dog is cleaner than Helen's vagina.|
|Also this bitch was in it and even though she was one of the 'good guys', I still hated her the entire time. Which made me realize she's a really amazing actress. Because I will hate her forever.|
|Seriously, this guy's face is fucking SCARY.|
|I am seriously stoked for people to start writing fanfiction about this! Go!|
|Fuck, now I really want a Snickers. Sweet gooey heaven........|
|That sounds like a personal problem!|
|This is what my face looks like when people say this to me.|
|Yup, that facial expression about sums up how I felt.|
|I don't know guys, I just really wanted to use this picture.|