What is there to say, really?  You people don’t really care about me. You probably happened upon this site by accident in your search for freaky wheelchair porn (for that, be sure to visit http://www.freakywheelchairporn.com) .  I suppose I can understand your feverish lust but having no acceptable polaroids of myself, I am unable to cater to it.  Instead, I will tell you briefly about myself, or maybe I’ll just make something up like everybody else on the internet.  You’ll never know the difference.

 

I was born in a small rural village in southeastern Texas.  My people are simple folk, subsisting entirely on a diet of roots, berries, and grub worms.  We lived in a simple mud hut that kept us dry but provided startlingly few decorating opportunities.  As a female child I was denied formal schooling and instead was kept at home to master the womanly arts of washing our simple potato sack dresses on rocks in a nearby stream or picking mealworms out of the flour we used to make bread. It was a simple life, but I was fairly content. Or maybe I was just too stupid to know any better.  You take your pick.

 

One day an explorer from the civilized world happened upon my village and marveled at our crude, spartan lifestyle.  Deciding that it was his duty to rescue me from my life of squalor, this explorer took me to a secret facility where I was deloused, given a clean potato sack to wear, and taught to speak English rather than the language of grunts and squawks to which I was accustomed.  Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) the culture shock was quite overwhelming at first but before long I was sitting on a couch, eating Snackwells cookies and watching “The Real World” just like every other moron in the alleged “civilized” world.  My new life became rather cozy until the explorer who found me told me that it was time for me to get something called a “job”.

 

I wasn’t sure what this “job” thing was but I knew I didn’t like the sound of it.  It seemed to have something to do with waking up early every morning, putting on uncomfortable, ill-fitting clothes, and letting people not as smart as me tell me what to do all day.  I protested, but the explorer told me that if I was to truly be a part of society, I must follow society’s laws and join the workforce.  So, reluctantly I browsed “HotJobs.com” for positions requiring a limited mastery of the English language and a taste for grub worms and I soon was hired to an entry-level computer programming position at a telecommunications company.  My adjustment to my new job was aided by the fact that my cubicle reminded me of my beloved mud hut back home, and the food in the vending machines in the break room reminded me of the roots, berries, and grub worms we used to eat.  But other than that, the job sucked, and very rarely was I allowed to eat Snackwells cookies and watch “The Real World”.

 

I suppose you’re wondering where the whole wheelchair thing enters this story.  Why would I want to ruin a story this good with tragedy?  I guess in reality you should probably ignore everything above except the fact that I was born in Texas and work for a telecommunications company.  Here’s the real story, in a Readers Digest-like condensed version:

 

·        I was born.

·        I did some stuff.

·        I hurt my back and became paralyzed from the waist down.

·        I’m still alive and now and then, I still manage to do some stuff.

·        One day I will die.

 

That’s the long and short of it, really.  Everything else is just gravy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are quite a few things that make me smile.  Perhaps you would like to know what they are.  If not, you’re looking at the wrong damned page.

 

·        Funyuns make me very happy.

·        When I drink a Pepsi-Cola, I know that God is great.

·        I like the internet.  It has expanded my thinking and introduced me to new worlds that I never would have experienced otherwise, like PimpDaddy.com.

·        I like Mad Magazine.  I’ve been collecting them for a while now and I have no idea how many I have, but I have enough to fill three or four standard  magazine boxes.

·        Saturdays and Sundays make me smile, because they mean I don’t have to go to my demeaning, soul-crushing job.

·        I like places with wheelchair ramps, for obvious reasons.

·        I enjoy watching WWE Smackdown and I don’t care who knows it.  Nothing is more interesting than watching muscular guys get sweaty and grapple each other.

·        I love heavy metal music. All the noise blends nicely with the screaming I hear inside my head.

·        The “Anna Nicole Smith Show” is pure entertainment!

 

 

 

 

 

·        I do not like cheesecake.  Yuck and double-yuck!

·        I think “Full House” is the worst TV show ever made.

·        I didn’t like that song “Heaven” years ago when Bryan Adams sang it and I don’t like it now with that new chick singing it any better.

·        I don’t like porno sites that keep unexpectedly opening new browser windows to other porno sites.  I can only concentrate on one browser window of porno at a time!

·        I am physically unable to make myself watch “The Chris Isaack Show”.

·        I get irritated by people who buy $200 shoes but don’t bother paying their phone or electric bills.