This place is a mess. I post a lot of doodles and photobombs of me and food I make. Die Die DIE.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A brief mission statement from CEO of Holly Industries.
Go jump into a canyon.
Best wishes,
Holly M.
CEO, Holly Industries
Best wishes,
Holly M.
CEO, Holly Industries
Tidbits of valuable information for first time Holly encounters.
Imagine my surprise the day I found out for certain that gross people will even hit on a foul, inhuman, unholy she-gremlin like me!
I don't mean to sound conceited, but I get hit on sometimes.
( Yes, *ME* of all organic humanesque beings! Trust me, it confuses me almost as much as their tattered desecrated remains confuse experts on cause of death.)
MOST people seem to drop the thought quickly when I double over a little and loudly start making uncontrollable pre-vomiting noises while also laughing uncontrollably between exaggerated dry heaves. This is always Phase One in my rejection of any and all mentally-stunted people who confuse me for someone who might have an interest in any sort of activity involving them, much less actual intercourse (GAG!) The only exception to this is if I happen to be in control of a motor vehicle during any poor soul's verbal expression of interest in my genitals. If I am in control of a motor-vehicle, phase one is replaced by Phase One B, where my answer to their offer of romantic involvement is to use the car as a replacement for dry heaves by politely taking their minds off of sex and putting their minds on the front grill of the vehicle via the use of intense speed and terrifying laughter from the cab or open window if I am hanging out of it at the time.
It didn't take me long after my completely unpleasant puberty to come to the realization that saying things like "No." "Fuck off." "I'm an evangelical Christian." "Not even for money and access to a real and functioning KILL EVERYONE button." just don't seem to work. All my words and frowning instead of how they assume I would instantly tear off my clothes and beg for them to take me, TAKE ME NOW, does seem to just mystify a lot of these would-be studs.
At first I couldn't help but notice how the baffled-by-rejection expression doesn't change even after severe head-trauma. This leads me to believe that their facial expression of "brutish lack of thought and understanding" is the same as the expression that lingers when I find myself in the position of having to stop any continued sexual advances by using a blunt instrument to play Pinata~! with their skull.
There have been a couple of clearly-confused or perhaps desperate people who flirt with me without taking the hint that my cold, murderous stare and the unmistakable muffled sound of my rage working into it's signature rolling boil is supposed to elegantly convey.
But really... guys at the gas station, 19 year old friend of my cousin, and you ladies too, you silly misguided harlots, let me just say that if you want to be Romeo with me, the situation is going to end remarkably similar to the real Romeo's final act. Only with less poison and a lot more hours of me sloppily performing impromptu exploratory surgery on your still conscious body with a fairly well used, rusty pair of hedge-clippers. (Oh, and curb-stomping, one player human-head kick-ball, ravenous hungry wild boars, and my super sexy, super special Eighteen wheeler back rub.)
Truth is, I won't ever go back to verbal rejections again, not after I figured out that telling someone to "go fuck themselves with a chainsaw." Might roll off my tongue like poetry, but a lot of the grodey, plus-size heifers who hit on me are gonna have a hard time with making love to a chainsaw because of their own enormous body-mass.
But hey, I'm frigid, not rude! if I'm not going to sleep with someone, the least I can do is help them efficiently work off those built up hormones by revving the chainsaw for them. Sometimes, if I'm "feeling" like my harsh dismissal of their poorly worded, mouth breathing attempt at wooing me may have been to harsh, I'll even help them by ramming the chainsaw into their ass for them.
While I try to be as polite and as delicate with rejecting a gentleman(or lady) caller, more often than not, I still end up dumping another dismembered corpse in the woods just like I do with the people that I hit on. (Note: This is an extremely rare occurrence. If you or someone you know thinks I may be hitting on them, the best way to protect yourself (and any family/friends/coworkers within Holly-rampage distance) is to find the closest tall bridge and hurl yourself head first off of it.* Holly is allergic to head-first free falls onto pavement or traffic.
*For best results, angle your head down and try to make sure you land as hard as possible. This method also works as a perfect preventative measure when followed through correctly before engaging Holly in conversation with the intention of expressing your primal urge to bump uglies with her. If done correctly, The Bridge Method guarantees a distinct loss of romantic intentions. Other benefits of this method when used as one's pre-flirt preperation include but are not limited to:
+ Safely impaired ability to make an ass out of yourself.
+ No messy cleanup(for you), public roads and highways are kept tidy by inmates who look forward to the sunshine and brief eased worries of being anally raped that roadway clean up provides!
+The people force to live and work in close proximity to you will cheer for your success!
+an improved human gene-pool.
++ (For flirty parents using this method) Your children will reap the benefits of your wise decision by being raised by some fuckin' body else other than you!
-Holly
Funny how I can't seem to avoid the pesky cost of good black plastic bags and the constant uphill hikes in the woods. Sigh.
I don't mean to sound conceited, but I get hit on sometimes.
( Yes, *ME* of all organic humanesque beings! Trust me, it confuses me almost as much as their tattered desecrated remains confuse experts on cause of death.)
MOST people seem to drop the thought quickly when I double over a little and loudly start making uncontrollable pre-vomiting noises while also laughing uncontrollably between exaggerated dry heaves. This is always Phase One in my rejection of any and all mentally-stunted people who confuse me for someone who might have an interest in any sort of activity involving them, much less actual intercourse (GAG!) The only exception to this is if I happen to be in control of a motor vehicle during any poor soul's verbal expression of interest in my genitals. If I am in control of a motor-vehicle, phase one is replaced by Phase One B, where my answer to their offer of romantic involvement is to use the car as a replacement for dry heaves by politely taking their minds off of sex and putting their minds on the front grill of the vehicle via the use of intense speed and terrifying laughter from the cab or open window if I am hanging out of it at the time.
It didn't take me long after my completely unpleasant puberty to come to the realization that saying things like "No." "Fuck off." "I'm an evangelical Christian." "Not even for money and access to a real and functioning KILL EVERYONE button." just don't seem to work. All my words and frowning instead of how they assume I would instantly tear off my clothes and beg for them to take me, TAKE ME NOW, does seem to just mystify a lot of these would-be studs.
At first I couldn't help but notice how the baffled-by-rejection expression doesn't change even after severe head-trauma. This leads me to believe that their facial expression of "brutish lack of thought and understanding" is the same as the expression that lingers when I find myself in the position of having to stop any continued sexual advances by using a blunt instrument to play Pinata~! with their skull.
There have been a couple of clearly-confused or perhaps desperate people who flirt with me without taking the hint that my cold, murderous stare and the unmistakable muffled sound of my rage working into it's signature rolling boil is supposed to elegantly convey.
But really... guys at the gas station, 19 year old friend of my cousin, and you ladies too, you silly misguided harlots, let me just say that if you want to be Romeo with me, the situation is going to end remarkably similar to the real Romeo's final act. Only with less poison and a lot more hours of me sloppily performing impromptu exploratory surgery on your still conscious body with a fairly well used, rusty pair of hedge-clippers. (Oh, and curb-stomping, one player human-head kick-ball, ravenous hungry wild boars, and my super sexy, super special Eighteen wheeler back rub.)
Truth is, I won't ever go back to verbal rejections again, not after I figured out that telling someone to "go fuck themselves with a chainsaw." Might roll off my tongue like poetry, but a lot of the grodey, plus-size heifers who hit on me are gonna have a hard time with making love to a chainsaw because of their own enormous body-mass.
But hey, I'm frigid, not rude! if I'm not going to sleep with someone, the least I can do is help them efficiently work off those built up hormones by revving the chainsaw for them. Sometimes, if I'm "feeling" like my harsh dismissal of their poorly worded, mouth breathing attempt at wooing me may have been to harsh, I'll even help them by ramming the chainsaw into their ass for them.
While I try to be as polite and as delicate with rejecting a gentleman(or lady) caller, more often than not, I still end up dumping another dismembered corpse in the woods just like I do with the people that I hit on. (Note: This is an extremely rare occurrence. If you or someone you know thinks I may be hitting on them, the best way to protect yourself (and any family/friends/coworkers within Holly-rampage distance) is to find the closest tall bridge and hurl yourself head first off of it.* Holly is allergic to head-first free falls onto pavement or traffic.
*For best results, angle your head down and try to make sure you land as hard as possible. This method also works as a perfect preventative measure when followed through correctly before engaging Holly in conversation with the intention of expressing your primal urge to bump uglies with her. If done correctly, The Bridge Method guarantees a distinct loss of romantic intentions. Other benefits of this method when used as one's pre-flirt preperation include but are not limited to:
+ Safely impaired ability to make an ass out of yourself.
+ No messy cleanup(for you), public roads and highways are kept tidy by inmates who look forward to the sunshine and brief eased worries of being anally raped that roadway clean up provides!
+The people force to live and work in close proximity to you will cheer for your success!
+an improved human gene-pool.
++ (For flirty parents using this method) Your children will reap the benefits of your wise decision by being raised by some fuckin' body else other than you!
-Holly
Funny how I can't seem to avoid the pesky cost of good black plastic bags and the constant uphill hikes in the woods. Sigh.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
superlesbos away
Really weird watching everyone switch teams like it's free day at the delusion farm.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
FWA MEME
Where are you staying?
The main con hotel I think. The real answer here is "where the drugs is be at."
Who will you be with?
Crazy super lesbians and gross manchildren
Do you do trades?
You give me money I give you art.
What suits will you have?
Troll cosplay, probably Sollux or Karkat... and my gasmask bunnyhoodie.
What is your gender?
I AM OBVIOUSLY A MAN AND I DEMAND YOU RESPECT MY INSANE ILLUSIONS.
How old are you?
25!
Can I talk to you?
MONEY TALKS!
Can I buy you a drink?
Just gimme the money for the drink and we'll call it even. You won't get into my pants either way but I'm going to rob you and beat you senseless behind the hotel anyway.
What's your poison?
Amphetamines
Can I commission you?
Only if we do it in a secret drug-deal style in the dark end of the hall.
What events will you be attending?
Who the fuck does that?
Can I hug you?
I will murder you anyway, so go ahead.
How tall are you?
Five foot fuckoff inches
Are you nice? Or do you think so (no personal references needed)?
II am so completely not nice.
Are you friendly?
You are so fucked.
How long are you going?
Till the cops show up, then after I've killed and fucked the cop bodies I might leave.
Do you have an artist table? If yes, what will you be selling?
Why would I do that? Just hit me up if you want art for money or smokables.
Do you like parties?
Do I look like Pinkie Pie?
Can I give you a gift?
You probably should, otherwise I will sing you the song of my people.
If I see you, how should I get your attention?
Throw cigarettes at my head, jump off the roof of the hotel, set yourself or a fursuiter on fire in front of me, wiggle up to me like a nervous beta and hope my alpha fangs don't pierce your genitals.
Anything else?
I really do not give a single fuck.
The main con hotel I think. The real answer here is "where the drugs is be at."
Who will you be with?
Crazy super lesbians and gross manchildren
Do you do trades?
You give me money I give you art.
What suits will you have?
Troll cosplay, probably Sollux or Karkat... and my gasmask bunnyhoodie.
What is your gender?
I AM OBVIOUSLY A MAN AND I DEMAND YOU RESPECT MY INSANE ILLUSIONS.
How old are you?
25!
Can I talk to you?
MONEY TALKS!
Can I buy you a drink?
Just gimme the money for the drink and we'll call it even. You won't get into my pants either way but I'm going to rob you and beat you senseless behind the hotel anyway.
What's your poison?
Amphetamines
Can I commission you?
Only if we do it in a secret drug-deal style in the dark end of the hall.
What events will you be attending?
Who the fuck does that?
Can I hug you?
I will murder you anyway, so go ahead.
How tall are you?
Five foot fuckoff inches
Are you nice? Or do you think so (no personal references needed)?
II am so completely not nice.
Are you friendly?
You are so fucked.
How long are you going?
Till the cops show up, then after I've killed and fucked the cop bodies I might leave.
Do you have an artist table? If yes, what will you be selling?
Why would I do that? Just hit me up if you want art for money or smokables.
Do you like parties?
Do I look like Pinkie Pie?
Can I give you a gift?
You probably should, otherwise I will sing you the song of my people.
If I see you, how should I get your attention?
Throw cigarettes at my head, jump off the roof of the hotel, set yourself or a fursuiter on fire in front of me, wiggle up to me like a nervous beta and hope my alpha fangs don't pierce your genitals.
Anything else?
I really do not give a single fuck.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
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