> That is a horribly tragic and sad site.
I BEG your pardon?
Living in my cave was the happiest three years of my life, even though I'm REAL happy now!
> I distinctly remember looking up at this exact same spot right after the trees were cleared and seeing a tent and a bunch of random belongings now exposed up there on the hill.
Did you take any pictures? Can you describe it in more detail? I had to leave quickly when, one day, construction workers (and the cops) knocked on my airlock. It scared the fucking jee-zuss out of me, too because they were loud and lots, and I didn't know it was workers and the cops. I thought that the Spanish kids came back and brought a gang of dozens, and suddenly the idea of REAL gang-rape didn't seem so sexy!
Actually, come to think of it, if they hadn't been Spanish...
Anyway, I couldn't take anything but my PC, and I never went back there. I sent an email to VDOT asking if they saved any of my stuff but they never answered.
Oh, and drtonyroberts.com is no more. He very kindly let me use his server space, but he's a genuine absent-minded professor, and forgot to renew his URL before someone stole it for ransom.
I registered my own site (which is under construction), as well as making his a subdomain of mine--(damn, it's been a year and I can't remember the URL!) Effectively, my site is my blogspot blog. Myspace SUX DIX!!
BTW, all the (blog) regulars would agree, he is (or WAS) my biggest "fan". It's a long story how it happened, but he actually got to fuck me. When I abandoned my cave, I moved in with my lesbian college friend and her husband (who ass-fuÃ§ks me 2 or 3 times a week), and-- (I swear it was coincidence, and you can watch how it unfolded over months on the blog)--her husband got a job in Houston, 10 miles away from Dr. Roberts AND the doc just happened to be living in a motel. So when I told them how he bought hundreds of dollars worth of psycho meds for me when he never thought he'd ever meet me, we insisted he move in with us.
I'll NEVER forget the look on his face when he knocked on the door, and I answered it with no clothes on at all! My pubic hair was trimmed nicely just for him, and had a stick-on bow. GOD! He brought me a bottle of absinthe, too, the old sweetie! We smoked a bunch of Salvia Divinorum (look it up) and drank absinthe.
But after fuÃ§king me senseless day and night for a week or two, he realized that, while I like being brutally ass-raped by the other guy here (and his wife uses me too), I could never (ugh) "love" him or anyone because I'm autistic. For example, I REFUSE to be kissed. Or for that matter, touched in any way but roughly. The only kiss I need is the kiss of the WHIP! â˜º
As soon as it warms up, I'm going to find Michael (Tony's preferred name) a girl from craigslist, and they'll meet on their blind date NAKED! See, there's a nude beach here in Houston, and while Michael's been there many times, I never went to one, and neither have the other two, and we're all scared to, which is why we want to go.
Now I spend my time cleaning their house and cooking their meals, and just like in my cave, I never wear clothes, ever. It makes me feel sexy, like a sex-slave, which I kind of am, I guess. I serve everyone meals individually in their rooms because they're all always on their computers. I'm trying to find him a girlfriend, and I ALMOST got him one THREE times (one was another of my blog readers).
In my spare time I read about astrophysics and Riemann-topological hyperspaces, download savage BDSM porn, and masturbate imagining it's me in the videos. I also play around with a drawing program (see below).
Why am I so obsessed with sex? My mother was too, but from a judgmental, prudish, fundamentalist, drunk point-of-view; and I'm rebelling. Or something. Whatever.
SO, IN CONCLUSION:
> That is a horribly tragic and sad site.
Unless you're talking about the construction site where my cave was, that's BULL shee-yit! I'm having the time of my life!
Oh wait... maybe you mean you see a sad SIGHT!
Yeah, well, it's the smart man's burden.
> Start living, or start dying.
Right on. And I wised up just in time.
They call me the recursively enumerated, insufficiently remunerated, double data rated, triple X-rated, psycho, active, psychoactive, hyperbolic, hypergolic, St. Vitus' dancin', pull down her pants and low class, kiss my ass, underemployed, overjoyed, masterpiece-makin', masturbatin', window ledge over-the-edge, screwy, chiral, downward-spiral, ass upended, fair-weather-friended, 'puter freq girl geek.
Read my blog
Yank off to my naked pix