Welcome to the World Of UNG - A Snapshot in Time

[uglynakeddiary]

On my way out to work today, guess who was lurking in the hall? Fuckin UNG, yes, that's right. I am so sick of him lurking around, staring at children from secret corners and whatever else. I never look very closely at him and for all I know he had his dick hanging out on the other side of him, since he does the exorcist thing and just turns his head around to say "HYE?" I wish in a way I could catch him doing something that wrong, but the sad thing is I have caught him doing things like that before (and mind you I don't have to *try* he is always very visible.) Nothing has ever been done about it and nobody seems to care. I hate this apathetic world sometimes. No wonder so much bad shit goes on - people let it go on by doing nothing about it when there are years and years of multiple, obvious warning signs. I know I write it in a funny way and UNG is like the mascot around here for my friends but really it isn't funny at all. It's the saddest thing I can think of and I just wish someone would care enough to do something. I have done everything in my power when I see something strange, but nobody gives a fuck. I guess he actually has to go out and hurt somebody - even a child - for anyone to bother doing anything. I really don't like him hanging out in the hallway like that. It's empty and secluded and anything could happen to a person in there. I swear if that fucker ever attacks me, he is going to lose. Head injury or not, he will not do what I know is going around his fucked-up head. And like I said Phil is encouraging him and it pisses me off. He was shaving him the other day, presumably to make him presentable. I'm sorry but that guy should be in a nursing home and the last thing people should be doing is filling his head up full of lies about any potential dates around here. And WHY the FUCK does he have to pick ME? Why do I always attract the most fucked up individuals no matter where I go? One reason I hate going to bars is that the nastiest, smelliest, most toothless, slobbering, rude, disgusting, piggish thing in the entire place will always come up with the courage needed to harass me until I have to either a) offend him enough to make him go away, b) walk away and hope he doesn't follow, or c) leave the fucking club. I hate the kind of luck I have in drawing people's attention like that. But I guess it's apparent that I'm a nice person, so they probably think I'll feel sorry enough for them to be suckered into a date or worse. I don't think so. Nothing makes me angrier. I'm not a fucking snob. I have actually been accused of that before in regard to the UNG, by an ex of mine. He was like "Oh, so only good-looking guys are allowed to look at you." I will never forget that statement, because it has nothing to do with looks, it has to do with the fact that the guy is out of his fucking head, he looks like he fucking smells, and why should I even think about it in the first place??? Why me? Nobody else would? Maybe a bag lady or a prostitute, or someone with a similar condition to him in a nursing home, but WHY DO I HAVE TO BE THE ONE? Sometimes I understand why people have shotguns. OK I'm done. I was thinking once again about making the Ugly Naked Guy Diaries, but I will probably forget about it again, or just think wow that was a stupid idea and not bother. But I think sometimes I need a specific place just to document this shit and vent about it. Maybe if he ever hurts someone (goddess forbid) it can be used as some sort of warped evidence - profanity and all. Oh yes, and he was waiting for me when I got home too. He was standing there, probably for the extra 20 minutes it took me to get home cuz I took a Taco Bell detour, with his shirt hanging open so as to expose his sexy *gag* chicken chest, and posing. I could feel his eyes burning through holes in every part of me all along the way from my car to the sidewalk, to the door. I am so sick of it I could just scream.

Note: I will post the history so this makes more sense later.

Note: Here's the history.