Feb 20

Behind the pretty face, is someone who’s hurting

I used to think that if I married the hottest sexiest guy on the planet, prince charming so to speak, that I would live happily ever after. I know it was quite silly for this Fairy to believe in a fairy tale, but my Prince Charming has turned into an Evil Queen instead. This isn’t what I bargained for, but instead it’s what I’ve been dealt with.

My husband is by no means perfect and I should block comments on this post just to prevent some of the posts I’m sure would be posted. But his destination in life and mine seem to have gone in opposite directions. He is perfectly content with wasting his life on facebook playing whatever-ville for the 9 millionth hour and feeding his chickens and harvesting his crops, while his dog hasn’t eaten in a week, and has eyes turning yellow from holding the urine in so long. I think part of the reason I even come home is to make sure the animals are still alive, rather than check the mail and go to bed. I can sleep anywhere, and anything important goes to my PO box anyway.

And like him, I am by no means perfect either, but I know that we’re perfectly mismatched as we’ve grown apart. I have the desire to work hard at everything in life to become better than others, he wants to be just like everyone else. As the economy and the people in it get further in the tank, that puts him at more of a distance from me than ever before.

I have watched the Occupy Wallstreet movement with awe, now while I want to be the 1%, I want to be taxed at a higher rate, like it was done during WW2. I have always been a firm believer in the super rich being super taxed, because the higher the taxes are on the Rich, the more of it they will give away to places where they can see the good being done, rather than being sucked into the pockets by worthless politicans who should be murdered 9/11 style, with a jetliner up their ass.

Now that I’ve managed to get myself further onto an FBI watch list. I think that love is over rated, and arranged marriages are onto something. The next person I choose to spend any part of my life with has to have their head on their shoulders, and live in a desirable location.

Shania Twain said men are a fine piece of real estate, and when it comes to real estate, remember Location, Location Location! So let’s hear from California and Europe because I’m tired of Chicago!

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Jan 06

Hello world..Again!

Welcome to DjDynasty.com! This is the sixth time I’ve written a “first post” blog post for this site. Now while some might assume this is because I’m a really crappy designer who doesn’t back things up. Those who would, are partially right. I have full backups of everything I’ve designed on this website, going back to the date I launched this site, one November evening in 1997. I’ve also pre-paid for this domain for the next ten years it’s not going away anytime soon.

 

When I first launched this site back in 1997, I would hand code each post in notepad, complete with all the annoying animated graphics and midi file background music. Looking back those sites were tacky and tragic, but don’t laugh you technologically friendly fuckers. You used to use those crappy tags too! So many people thought it was cute to use bgsound at the time because it loaded quickly even in the days of dial up modems. It was a different time on so many levels, I was a teenager who was bullied often at school for being just a little bit fem. I would get scolded by teachers for carrying a dual mirrored compact in my backpack because I had just recently started wearing contact lenses, and would have issues during the winter with them being dry and falling out. I still remember the teacher my freshman year Chris Simcox calling me a faggot for using this mirror in class when my contact had fallen onto my cheek. His logic was I should go to the bathroom. My rebuttal was always the bad lighting in the bathroom, as well as the fact that none of the men’s rooms on my entire campus had a mirror for fear that the men, might punch them, and use the shards of glass as a weapon.

I managed to survive high school without killing myself, or others much to the surprise, and delight of the school social workers who had been helping me deal with being gay and being bullied. They also had to run interference with my dean Mr. Parker who’s solution to every time I got bullied for being gay was to give *ME* detention, and telling me to “just be straight and the problems will go away.” Gee asshole, I wish I fucking thought of that during the ninety million times I just wanted to kill myself because this “gay” problem just wouldn’t go away. Sensitivity training didn’t exist at the time, but trust me, this fucker needed it! It was because of him, that I grew a very strong distrust of black men until I know they won’t harm me.  He wrecked me for life so to speak,but the dean that ran detention Ms. Barnes is the reason I will always feel safe in the company of black women.

I started writing, a lot during that time period as a way to cope. Some of those writings are very private and will never be republished onto this site in it’s new 2012 format. Some of those are handwritten diaries about who I thought was a super hot guy in school at the time, and all the guys I had managed to get with. My earliest experiences with guys which could be published into tawdry romance novels for homosexuals.

This blog however isn’t going to focus entirely on the rantings of me talking about a childhood gone past, and the men I dated, the men I’m dating now, and the man I should have never wasted my time with. I’ve got other people who I’ve enlisted this time around for a successful relaunch that will hopefully outlast my lifespan. I know this site will grow larger than the domain that currently hosts it. Plus with more frequent updates now that I have mobile access, apps built to design this site remotely, You the reader, will be experiencing the brain vomits that come out at 2:00AM, as well as the actual thought out well written articles that require research and journalistic integrity.

 

Toodles Poodles,

~Dj

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