Diaries Magazine

Diaries of a Late 90′s Preteen. Welcome to My Life.

By Bestfunnyblog @bestfunnyblog

Diaries of a Late 90′s Preteen. Welcome to My Life.I originally wanted to post a series of excerpts from my Easy Journal that I created back in 98′. Easy Journal apparently no longer exists and I am pissed because it capture the true essense of being born an 80′s child and growing up in the 90′s. HOWEVER, I have plenty of other non legitimate stuff to post. I was the first kid with a digital camera, first to start an Easy Journal, first to start a MySpace page… the list goes on. I have plenty of dirt. Lets start with my ICQ profile. I’m just putting this all out there because it is not right.

Diaries of a Late 90′s Preteen. Welcome to My Life.First off, my interests include: “Boy & Priest,” “Oil Cakes.” & “Ham shoved up my venus hole.” And if that isn’t bad enough, please review the “about me” poem. Did I mention that I wrote tons of grotesque and perverse poems? Luckily, I still have some saved saved. This one was written in 2001 when I was 15: Part 1 (Sex, and love)
Sex and mate
Thou shall not hate
If you were to mate
Then why would you hate
If you have sex, then you like
And you don’t take a hike
If you have sex for fun
Sorry, that is not me hun

Part 2 (sex for fun = slut)
A hoe is a slut
Yes, it’s a mut
A slut is for cash
So don’t get that rash
Once you get those bumps
There will come lumps
It will not be smooth
It will have a groove
So don’t get with a slut
It will ruin your butt

Diaries of a Late 90′s Preteen. Welcome to My Life.Above: Classic “look at how cool I am” 90′s shots. Apparently bumblebee turtle necks, extra jelled hair, and the wet dog look were “in.”

More recently, I matured and wrote a poem about a slave girl being a sex puppet:

“Everyday, every week
I tend crops and pick wheat
From sun up to sun down
I labor hard with a frown
Yes I work on a plantation
I sweat tears for this nation
Yet at the end of the nigh
I won’t put up a fight
For at this time-
Master provokes a dirty crime
For he grabs my brazier
However, I do not fear
Now robust with job
He inserts a toy
I pip a squeek
He is such a freak!
Now he leads me to bed
This is where I’m fed
no with juice or milk
But with masters fine silk!
As it leaps on my face
I finally feel grace
Now I’m pampered in sheets
Next to masters body heat
Now you can probably guess
By life is a mess
But when it goes dark
And master pulls out his shark
I feel at home
A plantation girl, now not alone.”


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