Exclusive AZ Rants

Exclusive stuff that you can not find on myspazz
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Thanks Guys!

For all the free publicity.

It was so easy. I fucking love it.

Keep mentioning me by name.

zara's picture

Fuck Your "Just Because"

Recently there have been people around me telling me that I need to do certain things "just because." The main one is that I need to respect other people who write because we're supposedly all some part of a family. The easiest way to ensure that I will never do something is to try and define for me the realms of my "just because."

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Kicked the hornet's nest

Or hive, or whatever.

I love being a shithead. The funniest thing is that I never fully intend to start out on the path to shitheadedness, I just end up winding up there. I see things unfold before me and I roll with the punches.

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Wow, it's been awhile...

... since I wrote something new in my exclusive section. You people all must feel cheated.

Random things for the time being:

* I miss Boomer. He checks in on me through MySpazz and thanks to www.whosonmypage.com, I can tell he is and see his cute face. I worry about him, but I guess he's doing ok.

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As we all know...

... Myspazz is evil.

Remember the good old days when you broke up with someone? You had to actually lurk around where they lived and worked in order to figure out what they were up to. But now, with instant profile, picture and blog comments, an ex can stop by your "place" any time of the day and check on what's going on in your life.

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Interesting

Tonight I was over at Jon's house, getting new ink done by Howie and for some reason he was talking about bands.

Then I hear him mention Burning Dog.

Turns out, he used to be in the band with David. I had actually written a blog about David about 3 days earlier. (You'll find out who he is soon enough, when I post what I wrote.)

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Wink Wink

Hey... PT?

I love you, baby.

*kissie noises*

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It'll Wait Til Later.... right?

I am a world class procrastinator. I put shit off until the last possible moment, and then some. I will find a way to weasel out of responsibilities, especially the ones that bore the fuck out of me. It's an ENFP thing, I guess. But it's also just a Zara thing.

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OK...ummmmm

That Who's on my Page thing?

Good way to track who is looking at your page. Interesting side effect, aside from being able to see who is checking you out is that sometimes you have to check them out too.

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Oooooo... I did something baddddddd

Tim's girlfriend now has a MySpazz page.

I e-mailed her. Nothing bad, mind you, but I probably shouldn't have even done that.

I'm psycho. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

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Swaying the masses

Hopefully they're not all getting sick to their stomachs.

The Ian, another MySpazz blogger, and I have been talking for a few days now. He's about the only person that I feel comfortable talking to about my number of views and readers and the stupid stresses that being top ranked over there do to you.

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Nah... I'm not upset at all

Really. I'm not.

I have to convince myself of that. Whenever I hear something I don't want to hear. Whenever things don't play out like I've got them pictured in my head. Just a gentle reminder, begun with tears and ended with a Sharpie jabbing into my soft temple.

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Because it amused me at the time....

Zara : :)
spekkio**: oh god
Zara: :)
spekkio**: im just a 19 year old remember
spekkio**: why would you want to talk to me
spekkio**: oh wait
Zara : :)
spekkio**: lets be honest
spekkio**: im just another cute face

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Woooooooo

I love to talk sex.

No, not sexy, sex. I've always been an openminded girl, with an honesty about me that pains some people. I've been called crass, coarse, caustic and the other "C" words. People don't seem to know how to handle how I talk.

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Blah

K... it's done.

On to the next stupid fucking conflict.

You know one is coming. This is ME we're talking about.

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Not a Happy Camper

For those of you who do not know what is going on over on Myspace, there was a woman who sent me a friend request yesterday. I just recently reopened the option to request me as a friend without needing my last name or e-mail to do so. I was burned, so I'm still not blindly accepting these ads. When I went to check this woman out (as I had for the 60 some-odd other people) I discovered that she had reposted several of my blogs, not indicating that they were mine.

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Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck

For the last 6 months or so, I've been a bundle of anxiety. I haven't figured out if the cause for this anxiety is positive or negative, it's just always there. I have brief downtime moments, but for the most part, my heart is always racing, my eyes are always shifting and I am always riddled with a sense of impending.... something.

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Stacy's Right, I Need to Get Out More

My friend Stacy is one cool dude. He's laid-back and happy, aside from all of the stern demands that I need to get out more, come to the house, relax.

Stacy is a happy drunk slash durka enthusiast. Seeing him operate and listening to him talk during these times is funny as hell. It's also the times that I've been able to relax the most. He IS right, I do need to get out more.

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Oscar Talk

I've always been a big fan of the Oscars. I used to be really good about going out and watching every nominated film before the big night, even the most obscure ones. But this year, I'm feeling a little "meh" about the whole thing.

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Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

*Sigh*

What the fuck is it with men getting more attached to me than they should? Especially ones that don't know me all that well, ones that have only met me over the internet, had a phone call with, and not yet met in person? I come off as a fun and interesting person. But I also freely admit and demonstrate through writing just how fucked up I am. Explain to me what my fucking appeal is, please!

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Boomer

Boomer's moving.

Who's Boomer, you ask? Boomer is my punkass. He is my inspiration. My guiding light. He is the guy who could give a fuck about reading my blogs, but invited me to read his and started all of this.

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So.... Should I?

So... Should I?
I've got a question for you readers. Something that I want some feedback on.

I haven't gotten laid in awhile now. If you've been following along with my blogs, you probably already know that. You might also have picked up on my reluctance to just jump right back into the pool of sexual bliss.

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You should...

... do something where your finger moves... perhaps scratch yourself.... or um... something. Censorship in the weirdest of forms, I tell ya.

Yep.

Hehehehehe. It's going to be a long day up in my noggin today. You might not want to join me, it could get ugly.

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Greetings from "That Bitch"

Yes, it's me....

"That Bitch."

I've been called "That Bitch" more times than I can possibly hope to remember. In more recent times, the term changed to mean something favorable, as opposed to its original derogatory meaning.

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Joys of Womanhood (Something written some time ago)

    What's so wrong about being a girl? We can wear pretty clothes, get boys to bend over backward for us with the batting of an eyelash, we get free admission and free drinks on certain nights at certain clubs. Life is a series of benefits for girls, right? So, why is it that I can't fucking stand being one at times?

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Makes You Wonder What I Did on 10/18, huh?

In an attempt to keep myself from going completely insane and to stop being dependant on a flawed system of validation, I am now weaning myself off of Myspace. And by weaning, I mean I shall be going cold turkey for awhile.

I'm writing this for those who might end up wondering where I went, people that I communicated with through Myspace. Most of those that are of any great importance to me know how to reach me through other

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Name Withheld but Fairly Obvious(From My Private Stash)

Name Withheld but Fairly Obvious(From My Private Stash)
Yeah, I go on about him all the time. He'd laugh and kick my ass to find out that I was blogging about him. And that's what I love about him. He doesn't humour me in the slightest. When I'm being stupid, he's the first to shut me down. When I'm being depressed, he's the only one who knows what it will take to make me laugh. It takes just a word from me for him to understand exactly what my mood is in the first place. He knows when I'm trying to bury my true feelings and sticks a knife in me to gut them out.

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