In Defense of Rape, or, A Day in the Life of Corey's Beard Presented in the First Person
Fact: Placing the word "rape" in your livejournal title will instantly attract more readers.
Mother fuck! Why can't I be full and bristly like the the beards of ZZ Top? I'm as patchy as a quilt, man. I'm incomplete. I literally resemble pubic hair glued to this homo's face! He somehow thinks the longer I grow, the fuller I look. What a douche.
First off, I'm only remotely beardish on his left side. The right side has a giant hole in the skin right in the middle of his cheek. The small portion on this cheek is miraculously hairless. And nothing grows there, ever. It's some kind of black hole for hair. I wish he would just shave me off. This is the embarrassing life I lead.
Fact: Once the reader has realized that the journal entry has nothing to do with rape, and that there won't ever be any mention of rape, and that the title was just a ruse to get them to read a badly written story about a goddamn beard, they will promptly lose interest.
Today he actually brushed me. As if there's any me to be brushed anyway--or that I'm so unruly and just overflowing with hair that I need to be put in check by a friggin' comb. Leonardo DiCaprio's beard is even better than me. In the Departed that shit was dyed peach fuzz, no joke. Trust me, I would know. And yet that beard has me beaten on so many levels. If I could cry over this I would. But I'm a beard so no dice.
Fact: If the reader is still reading this and is genuinely interested in the plight of a depressed beard despite the lack of rape or raping, then the reader is indeed a true friend. Or just very, very bored.
In our class today he literally used me in an attempt to pick up some chick. He was in a self-deprecating mood, I guess, but the sad thing is this broad fell for it. What a laugh. She had more hair on her cheek than he does. He even managed to land a date tonight. I'm seriously hoping he just puts me out of my misery for tonight's date. But from the bimbo's reaction to his joke at my expense it looks like I'm here to stay. I know, I know, I can't be that bad, right? I must be overreacting, you say? Fucking please. Don't give me that shit.You don't know what it's like. You don't even know me. Sometimes I don't think I know myself. Sigh.
Fact: At this point the reader is probably questioning why they were initially attracted by the promise of rape and why they're legitimately disappointed that there won't be any further mention of rape, raping, being raped, or rape kits. It's ok, really. We all do it sometimes.
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. While getting ready for this "hot date"--his words, not mine--he decided to give me a little trim. I know, right? I almost shit myself laughing. This guy is so hilarious. Why is this funny, you ask? What a horrible question. THERE'S NOTHING OF ME TO TRIM, YOU ASSHOLE! Good Lord. Does he think this will make him more presentable to his new lady friend? Sorry, man. It's not doing anything for me or you.
The best part is how hard he concentrates to get the stray hairs that I purposely stick out to make it more agonizing. But of course this has no effect on him. He just gets even more painstaking about it and takes his time. And I have to just take this mockery and stare at myself in the mirror while he scrutinizes me like he's a professional hair stylist. Sometimes I think he's even more pathetic than I am. Then, when he's done "trimming" me, he puts his hand over me and makes a face like he's in deep thought. And he fucking strokes me. Motherfuck, somebody just kill me now, please.
Fact: If the reader made it this far, then he is seriously wondering why all journal entries aren't about beards and their exploits, and is deliberating whether or not to write an entry from the perspective of his own beard. This is not normal. In fact, he should definitely consider seeking help. In a lot of ways this fascination with beards is far worse than a mild interest in rape. Maybe the reader should think about this: Entries about rape > Stories told from the perspective of a beard. God, get a life, you weirdos.
Mother fuck! Why can't I be full and bristly like the the beards of ZZ Top? I'm as patchy as a quilt, man. I'm incomplete. I literally resemble pubic hair glued to this homo's face! He somehow thinks the longer I grow, the fuller I look. What a douche.
First off, I'm only remotely beardish on his left side. The right side has a giant hole in the skin right in the middle of his cheek. The small portion on this cheek is miraculously hairless. And nothing grows there, ever. It's some kind of black hole for hair. I wish he would just shave me off. This is the embarrassing life I lead.
Fact: Once the reader has realized that the journal entry has nothing to do with rape, and that there won't ever be any mention of rape, and that the title was just a ruse to get them to read a badly written story about a goddamn beard, they will promptly lose interest.
Today he actually brushed me. As if there's any me to be brushed anyway--or that I'm so unruly and just overflowing with hair that I need to be put in check by a friggin' comb. Leonardo DiCaprio's beard is even better than me. In the Departed that shit was dyed peach fuzz, no joke. Trust me, I would know. And yet that beard has me beaten on so many levels. If I could cry over this I would. But I'm a beard so no dice.
Fact: If the reader is still reading this and is genuinely interested in the plight of a depressed beard despite the lack of rape or raping, then the reader is indeed a true friend. Or just very, very bored.
In our class today he literally used me in an attempt to pick up some chick. He was in a self-deprecating mood, I guess, but the sad thing is this broad fell for it. What a laugh. She had more hair on her cheek than he does. He even managed to land a date tonight. I'm seriously hoping he just puts me out of my misery for tonight's date. But from the bimbo's reaction to his joke at my expense it looks like I'm here to stay. I know, I know, I can't be that bad, right? I must be overreacting, you say? Fucking please. Don't give me that shit.You don't know what it's like. You don't even know me. Sometimes I don't think I know myself. Sigh.
Fact: At this point the reader is probably questioning why they were initially attracted by the promise of rape and why they're legitimately disappointed that there won't be any further mention of rape, raping, being raped, or rape kits. It's ok, really. We all do it sometimes.
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. While getting ready for this "hot date"--his words, not mine--he decided to give me a little trim. I know, right? I almost shit myself laughing. This guy is so hilarious. Why is this funny, you ask? What a horrible question. THERE'S NOTHING OF ME TO TRIM, YOU ASSHOLE! Good Lord. Does he think this will make him more presentable to his new lady friend? Sorry, man. It's not doing anything for me or you.
The best part is how hard he concentrates to get the stray hairs that I purposely stick out to make it more agonizing. But of course this has no effect on him. He just gets even more painstaking about it and takes his time. And I have to just take this mockery and stare at myself in the mirror while he scrutinizes me like he's a professional hair stylist. Sometimes I think he's even more pathetic than I am. Then, when he's done "trimming" me, he puts his hand over me and makes a face like he's in deep thought. And he fucking strokes me. Motherfuck, somebody just kill me now, please.
Fact: If the reader made it this far, then he is seriously wondering why all journal entries aren't about beards and their exploits, and is deliberating whether or not to write an entry from the perspective of his own beard. This is not normal. In fact, he should definitely consider seeking help. In a lot of ways this fascination with beards is far worse than a mild interest in rape. Maybe the reader should think about this: Entries about rape > Stories told from the perspective of a beard. God, get a life, you weirdos.