Noah Tourjee

Dear Reader(s?),

Some lady with big purple freeze dried lips took my picture today at the Starbux in Northampton. I am home for the Holidays, and happy to be so. However I am leaving in like 5 hours, cuz duh I have 2 work 2morro. The lady really liked me hair. She told me I was “So Cool”. She wasted about 10 real minutes of my life waiting for her windows dos pc phone to delete a picture so she could capture me. I rlly am not such a jerk I dislike those who admire me. But she her lips were ripping apart and there was a large black unidentifiasble object in the corner of them. It was a) a mole or b) a collection of dead skin and waste. I only insult this fascinating mouth issue because of her annoying ability to shamelessly interrupt a private conversation for ten true human minutes of my life with personal questions. Also she had to get at LEAST 1. picture of my hair 2. picture of my “tights” (just because I’m not wearing sweat pants doesn’t mean I’m wearing tights) and 3. my shoes.
Anyway I didn’t rlly care, just needed to get that out there.

I saw a girl on the bus ride here who got me thinking. And forgive me for being so harsh on the unfortunate looking, but I thought what I thought, and I was VERY tired and irritable. Or perhaps I have a wicked soul. But when the pig, er hog ahem Girl, walked onto the bus I gasped. Be it she Was overly fat, that is hardly the issue. I am not shocked by Overweight people. I am shocked by people who have the misfortune of having the facial parts of pigs growing on top of their human heads. But there are a surprising ammount of them. I am sure any of you people reading have seen these pig people. They have wide up turned fat piggy noses. And small beady darting eyes. Pale dull chapped skin and fine frizzy birty blond hiar. They always have an attitude and they wear long bubble coats. They like big back packs with thick straps. And water bottles. I prayed to Jesus that he would save me from 5 hours next to this creature. And he brought me just what I wanted, a boring plain girl who reads.

I would like to now take this opportunity to apologize to the piggy girls, because honestly you’re not the weirdest looking people out there. Some people were born with horrible monkey ears that shoot out of their head like freakish leaves.

xxxx

Dear Reader(s?),

The Holidays are Approaching. That usually means a lot of retards fighting in front of meat. But this year, I think it will be different! I am super excited to go home and see my family. It will be nice to get out of New York, and back inside Western Mass.
I don’t understand the feverish need to shop after the Holidays. I feel sleepy and quiet the day after ThanksGiving. EVEN if I didn’t, I wouldn’t wake up at 4 a.m. for the Wal Mart Blow Out Sale. I would hire someone to go there FOR me. But people are just so addicted to purchasing that whenever it is decided for them to go, they destroy their natural sleeping patterns and foam @ the mouth. I say screw you! Stupid. No way am I shopping on BLACK FRIDAY. And isn’t that a little Dramatic for Retail? I hear Black Friday and Gothic trees are bleeding human organs over writhing limbless children. Not a nation wide Sale.
I have little to no interest in standing in opposition to my brethren of America. If we aren’t United then, then, What Are We? So I will try to join the spirit. I will do All of my holiday shopping on that day. And I will throw up tofurkey on clearance wracks all over the city. But I refuse to go shopping the day after Christmas. PLEASE. Why must returns be made the day after Christmas? Isn’t the last place you want to be the day after Christmas in a Mall?
I’ll be Photo-Documenting my Thankful Giving this year. So, if you’re interested in a PERSONAL NEVER BEFORE SEEN SCRAP BOOK of Sexy ThxGvng, check me out.

Dear Reader(s?),

Holy Cow. So anyway, here is a picture of ME at Bedford Avenue on Election Night.

I know, I know. I am Heavily embarrassed. It is Highly unbecoming to be photographed chanting. I have no excuse other than the fact I was overwhelmed with Happiness! and American Pride!
A friend of mine noticed this picture of me on Brooklynvegan.com! Altho that seems to be a pretty touchy subject there. I for one am happy to say, that I am not a Hipster. No. I like to think of myself more as a Jock. Much more like a jock, yes.

Anyway, thats Me! And I just want everyone to know, I plan on being Very Very rich soon.

Every morning I comb this Seashell through my Ivory hair.
I place it down on the mirror and it clicks.
From the Sun, light slices through my room..
And my cushioned vanity is a sparkling sliver under that ray.
I tap my slender fingers against a marble bench.
I slide my velvet feet into polished suede.
I cover and cover my powdering face.
And, slipping on my flannel cape,
I am trotting down the looming streets.
The concrete jungle is beeping and crumbles.
I finger through my sachel, and slide my slender fingers into my black leather gloves.
As soon as I locate my lucky dragon, we glide into the portal we hide in a Telephone Pole.
And once inside I see talking Gems, with eyes and Legs.
My padded hand meets this Emerald Paw, and soon enough
We are bounding down a ceramic avenue.
The glowing birds and the crystal fox chattering,
Remind me to sing.
By the warm pink wind my melody is floating through space
To places some visit only in dreams.
I cry when I complete.
The peach tinted tears evaporate and colour the sun.
As I blush, I am lifted up, high, up up up.
I am carried back to my parlor.
And, undressing to my romper,
I dip into my sunken bed.
As the oyster shell in which I rest slowly closes,
I warm myself to perfect sleep.
Tomorrow is a brand new day,
Who knows what song I’ll sing.

Dear Reader(s?),

My favourite part of the week is those two days when I don’t have to go to work. When I can have fun and do WHATEVER I want. Even more than that I like to catch a cold the day before my weekend, so that I am immobile and filled with thick mucus. I enjoy hacking up balls of green shit and saliva into toilet paper while i struggle to pause Private Practice. I find comfort in sneezing on prada. When I wake up every 2 hours and have to slowly wheeze through my throat to take in oxygen, I am thankful. Because HECK. The last thing that I want is to go to the Botanical Gardens. Or go see a Movie. Or have Lunch with Friends. I prefer the life less traveled. The one where your face drips sticky yellow liquid and when you speak you sound like a talking bouncy ball.

Other than the comforting novelty of having a cold and bundling up w warmth and movies, I am NOT HAPPY. I hate being sick. Especially on my WEEKEND. I really wanted to do something fun, but I just feel like poop. I think I’m on the up, but thats just what my cold wants me to think. So that I will go out for a jog, or visit a friend at work. And before I know it I have to hurry home, because I am feeling SICK. All I can do is drown my sickness with fluids and Mucinex.

People are gettin’ pretty amped ’bout this presidential election. And by Amped I mean to say neurotic and paranoid. I have to agree, it is pretty nerve-wracking. My favourite was when I got invited to join a group of Highschoolers who WON’T BE GOIN’ 2 SCHOOL IF MCCAIN GETS THE PRESIDENCY! All I can say is - What kinda point r u makin? Because I am Pretty sure the 99% of highschoolers that Aren’t Loser Bookworms, don’t want to be sitting in school listening to sum dumb teacher talk about Crap like division. So to threaten to stay home from school, as a highschool student, is like the hungry threatening to eat. Well, Big Surprise. We all thought you were hungry. Why don’t you do something people don’t think u like? Like…If Mccain wins, I am going to do one thousand jumping jacks. People would laugh in disbelief. But if you did it, then you’d have your point made. Unless you’re some sort of physical trainer, and desire those things. I, for example, am going to tattoo the Angel of Death on my Face, if Mccain wins. I know what you’re thinking- But Everyone Expects You To Do That. Which is why, if Mccain wins, I’ll shock you all and Not get that tattoo.

Dear Reader(s?),

He buried his nose into the bush that surrounded Peter’s Dirt Star. As he plunged his face into this brush of darkness, Peter recoiled with Excitement. Brian fondled the sack of bolts hanging just a taint away from his brustle with the Dark Diamond, and only to Peter’s Pleasure. For he gargled and mentally pleaded for more of that terrible touch.
Brian had calloused fingers, from hot high in the sky sunny afternoons constructing wooden structures people like to call houses. Brian found no pleasure in any work where he wasn’t about to split his Levis into four wet and thickly soiled strips. Construction worked well for him. He spent his days growing the density of his muscles, and the depth of their tan. He craved the taste of milk, and decided to get himself a boy of his own to drink from.
Peter was just what the Constructor ordered. A boy no more than the ripe age of 19, he was young and solid. Having grown up somewhere in Europe, Peter went to a boys school for dance. He was a practitioner of ballet, but an aficionado of powdered sex. As Peter experimented through his youth, he decided to travel to America when he graduated. It was through this journey that he began to master the fine art of being a Power Bottom. When he arrived in the United States, he was overjoyed by the large amount of men that lived here. Through a large number of encounters Peter finally encountered the one man he knew he could call his Soul Mate.
Brian purchased Peter for the promise of a good life. And so the Sow came to live with Brian. And every night, and every morning, they would play the chords of their rhythmic ballad. And when Brian and his heavy load covered Peter, the boy with his dripping hair and thickly coated smile would grin and caress Brian’s sharp jaw. On occasion Peter would find himself filled with erotic impulse, and dance himself to some field where Brian was laying a lonesome foundation under a gray sky. And, surprising him from beneath, the two would wrestle affectionately until the passion of those limber bodies and the sweetness of their sweat split the sallow sky. And the Holy Sun and His Burning Seduction would scourge the pale clouds to dust, burning the embers of every sad second in its wake. It would crack their beating bodies like a whip, until they beat into each other the meaning of their desire, and the dirty truth of their touch. Fire would ignite between them until Brian was roaring at Peter as he squealed for more.
The day would sizzle and the shade of night fall upon them. What once burned of raw and wicked passion, now cooled to a smooth and peaceful affection. And then as every night, carried home, Peter would fall into a lull of romantic sleep. Showing no mark of distress should Brian raise him from that slumber and pump his thick cock deep into the warmth of his cushion.

Dear Reader(s?),

I had just finished inhaling the 3 servings of pasta I eat every night to satisfy my eating disorder when, oddly enough, a body part I own that wasn’t my stomach began to work. My head started to think, which is Not something I care to do while feeding, but I have a lack of self control and could do nothing to stop the ensuing thought pattern. Who am I to my useless brain? What crossed my Retarded Mind, isn’t all that important. I know this because half the time I am alone and think something, I have no idea what I am talking about. I like many others often talk to myself, but it is starting to disturb me. I will think everything in my head in looong drawn out sentences. And then I will, as any retard would, respond to myself as a second party.

“Its so messy in here, I am tired of this place being so incredibly a wreck!”
“Well you’re the one who made it this way”
“Yeah, I Know that. Thats why I am saying it needs to be cleaned.”
“WELL then clean it.”

Then I all of a sudden out loud I will say something like

“I’ll get around to it.”

And be snapped back to reality, wondering who I am talking to - and what about. How can someone as functionable as me be so incredibly stupid? I appear capable and semi-well put together, and yet I stumble over inane dialogue with myself. I can’t tell you how many conversations I interrupt with myself, confused and uncertain of What

“Well what are you gonna do about it?”

Is referring to.

“Uhmm, care to share what you were talking about?”
“I have no idea.”

I’m sure I’m disturbed for nothing, I bet everyone does that. Like its just one of those Things people do. Like how I and Everyone else in the world eats as much carbohydrates as possible until you’re in so much pain its hard to crawl to the soiled sack in which you sleep.

Dear Reader(s?),

I really still wanna see Harry Potter casting “spells” with his “wand’ on Broadway. Because I know this blog is Family-Friendly and many families read it together, I have added quotations around certain words that actually mean penis. Hes still up there makin luv 2 a horse, and I think its a serious problem if I miss out on That. 20 Years from now people r gonna be saying, Oh My God I cant believe Harry Potter did a play naked where he luved a horse and u didn’t go see it. They will be right.

Look @ THAT.

In other Breaking News…
I don’t really believe that 40 hours is a reasonable amount of time to dedicated to something other than your own personal enjoyment per week. I have a Stupendous Work Ethic. I Go To Work. I Work. Thats a good work Ethic. But I also believe it must be a crude joke that people are expected to do this every day their entire lives. Surely you do it for a miserable 3 years and then you are free to bask Under The Tuscan Sun

Instead of Laboring for some other persons Agenda. I think it absurd and swear that I will be the last one to work that hard for that long. I will just have to earn enough money in the next couple years to afford to live Honestly for the rest of my life.

My favourite new thing about my new home in Brooklyn is that every single item in the Deli below my Apartment has expired. My Macaroni and Cheese - Expired. My Oreos -Expired. My Chips - well I am not sure about my chips. I don’t mind, it makes me feel Greener. Like I am giving something back to the Gracious Planet by consuming old stale food that otherwise we would have thrown away. I’d like to talk to Mr.Nabisco. Yeah, I’d like to talk to him and find out jsut wha he thinks hes doin’. Makin’ a bunch of extra Oreos to be Thrown Away! I mena, Yu make good Cookie,s but it you don’t know how to make Just enough and not Too Much, maybe you need a good lesson in conservation. You don’t make an excess just in case u want more. Or perhaps hes planned for all this and they just send the Expired Goods to Brooklyn. Luckily the Milk is delicious and FRESH.

My favourite pants ripped, and I think I might be going to Die soon because of it.

Dear Reader(s?),

In my recent News I have moved to Brooklyn. I am happy to say it is a very nice transition. I will miss Queens but I am living with enough that I won’t feel far from home. I recently evolved and my wardrobe is molting to the next level of me. I won’t try to spell it out for you, but if you weren’t lucky enough to sort through my giveaways, I’m sorry.

Sylvie

Is coming to town tomorrow! Hurrah! I am obvi excited, its going to be a lot of fun. And long needed, because I don’t think I’ve seen her in 2 years.

It seems like a lot of people have been getting subway stalkers recently. I think thats pretty cool, I mean I am definitely the kind of person who likes being followed around by creeps. You know what I mean? How after you work a long day and are on the train home, its always a disappointment if there ain’t sum hooded character mimicking your every move and threatening your wellbeing in an otherwise vacant car. Its a real treat to panic at their arrival and dart into another car. You know, if you make it that long. Its okay because I now know you just need to carry a Hammer wherever you go. Because y’kno people just like 2 test you. And if you show them whats up! They’ll leave you alone.

I bought a cheap copy of Roger & Me (Michael Moore) and it was O.K. I say that because, while it was interesting like all his documentaries, I had a very frightening experience watching it. Maybe thats because they introduce you to a woman who has hit such hard times she makes her living solely off of Social Security and Rabbits. Thats fine. But then Michael asks if he can buy a Rabbit, and she says “Pet or Meat” Which was a little startling to me, but I understand that people do eat Rabbit. I was shocked that she could care for so many bunnies and have the nerve to kill them and “dress” them. Which seems a wildly inappropriate term, don’t you think? Oh HEY! Whats up?? Nothin’, I’m just dressing my rabbit. Oh!! Thats So Cute! Omg, what is it Wearing??
Sauce.
Anyway, she is an Ok character, except…As they come talk to her later on she tells us she got in trouble with the health people. Probably because she earlier said that she kills the babies at 5 months because otherwise they castrate eachother and pee all over themselves. My thought was- Maybe thats not a 5 month old thing so much as a Cage Confinement with 5 other bunnies thing?
Anyway I didn’t really like this lady, but I liked her a Lot less when they (with no warning) cut to her Hitting a bunny on the Head with a Metal Rod. MAYBE thats something that all you violent freaks enjoy. And surely its a pass time for subways creepers, but I found it shocking. Can’t you just sell snake meat? It would be a Divine Treat to bash a Snake’s Head into the earth with a rod. But how could you do that to a sweet angelic bunny rabbit. If I come upon harder days and have to sell meat for a living out of my trailer, I will definitely sell Snake & Tarantula Meat.

Dear`Reader(s?),

I have becum a Video Blogger. And if we are honest with ourselves, I think we all know thats where our generation is headed. But it is important to travel through time to a place where people communicated with archaic symbols strung together to form words. So I am writing a real blog.

As you can see by the abfab pic of me top right, I am a Model. My new Friend Signe Pierce is a rockin Photographer, and lucky enough for me she has decided 2 luv 2 photo me. So this is the beginning of my Gr8 Modeling Carreer. Watch out Agnes Dean

I have gotten a really great job. I am so happy and luving it. I really like the West Village and I must live there one day.

I am working on creating Blair, and I am becoming more and more attached to her. I have been shopping for two, and eating for negative 1. Her second video was a hit, if you consider Twelve Views a Hit. Luckily I do.

I was reading a People Magazine that Alta gave 2 me when she had exhausted it. Oddly enough that meant it had suffered moderate water damage and the back cover was a tattered half. I was reading it and got to the part where they talk about Celebrities On The Beach.

And Oh My God

Minnie Driver was there all pregnant. It just all of a sudden clicked that People r Weird. Because we are so un animal looking, especially celebrities. And we disconnect ourselves from that so much and wear jewelry and other beautiful things, and then of course we still get pregnant. And a big badge of our Animal Selves is bulbous and dangling from our stomaches. Its rather shocking and obscene. I mean she lookes like a Dog. A pregnant dog someone put on stilts and tied a bikini around for Youtube.

People like to hate and r probably thinking “Noah is Stupid, pregnancy is beautiful”
If thats what you thought, u don’t really know me at all.
I would give my left breast to be pregnant, its literally my 1 dream. But I don’t even have that 2 give. I am the most unfortunate person alive.