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Entry number one


This is so stupid. I can't believe how stupid this is. How the hell does Kitty do this? So, what, am I supposed to start typing out whatever nonsense comes into my head, and just, I don't know, assume that a huge audience of readers is going to give two shits about it? You know, this is the problem with the YouTube generation, everyone thinks that they've got something important to say and that someone, somewhere, is just sitting around waiting to hear it. It's the Twitter-ization of America's youth, and it's what's going to turn the majority of the nation's population into raging alcoholics around the age of 30. Because everyone thinks they're someone special, and when they eventually figure out that they're not, it's all going to come crashing down.

Yeah, I get the irony of ranting about the stupidity of blogging on a blog, so don't be sitting there thinking you're the shit. Asshats. I'm not doing this for some ill-conceived psuedo-sense of fame. I'm not that brainless. I'm doing this for revenge.

As you all know by now, Kitty has been banned from her blog. Logan means business. And I know, you're all crying yourselves to sleep on your Twilight pillowcases because you can no longer giggle at her clever little pop culture references and titter away at her hilarious hijinks and quirky misunderstandings. Ooh, Kitty is just soooooo cute. She can't flirt. She says stupid things. She's goes crazy in leather and pretends to be dating my ex-boyfriend. Yeah, that's right, I didn't forget about that little gem. I'm sure y'all didn't forget about it either. Seems like everyone's been hanging onto every torrid little detail of my love life as well.

By the way, if you're under the impression that at any second I might start dispensing all the current particulars on that front, you can just forget it, because Remy and I aren't together anymore. That's right, we broke up. So all you sickos are just going to have to go get your jollies somewhere else. Sorry, no more getting off on the salacious details of my sex life. Seriously guys, not f***ing cool.

Wait, what's with the stupid stars?



F*** f*** f***

Aw, damnit, this thing's got some sort of autocorrect censorship mechanism. That's f***ing whack, man.

Anyway, the point is, the gravy train has been derailed. No more Kitty. The days of her detailing all her stupid little adventures on this public forum are over. Forgive me if I'm not exactly crying with y'all.

To say that I'm less than pleased to have been an unwitting character in my roommate's online soap opera would be an understatement. I'm f***ing livid.

Those f***ing stars are starting to really piss me off.

Kitty says she doesn't get why I'm still so mad, six months later. She has no friggin' idea. Because apparently I should be just delighted that she's made my private life public, without my knowledge. I should be jumping out of my f***ing shoes to have been painted as a clueless, double-timing, terrorist-loving slut. The whole Joseph thing? Totally blown out of proportion. But thanks Kitty, for that.

"You're being completely effing ridiculous, Rogue!', she says to me. I know, seriously. The balls on her, right? And by the way, that wasn't just me editing, she literally said 'effing'. She does it all the time. I"m fairly certain she pictures herself as a Disney character.

So, of course, there's no way I'm going to let her get away with that shit. "Are you f***ing kidding me, Kit?" I screamed back at her. "You're telling me, if the tables were turned, you'd have no problem with me broadcasting all your shit without your permission?"

"What 'shit' could you broadcast, Rogue? Did you even read the blog? It's all about me! Clearly, I'm not embarrassed about who I am and how I live my life, and you shouldn't be either. So yeah, if you wanted to talk about me – in person, on the internet, standing on the roof of Walmart with one of those hostage negotiator bullhorns – I'd say go for it. Knock yourself out."

She thinks I was just talking hypothetical. Or maybe she just doesn't think I actually have the cajones to really pull it off. But I do. I've got a friggin' pair.

So now it's my turn. Because, apparently, Kitty has nothing to hide. She told you idiots 'everything' on her blog already, right? Well then, I guess she'd have no problem, for instance, with me letting y'all know that she collects comic books. Archie comics. Yeah, I know. She has like, a hundred of them, and she keeps them stuffed under the foot of her mattress, like she's hiding porn. Which is probably a pretty accurate comparison considering all of the issues she has just so happen to feature Jughead, and I'm fairly certain she has a crush on him. Jughead. Let me tell you, the pages are just a little too worn for my liking. I don't want to think about what that girl might be doing with those comics during her... private time.

Another thing about Kitty: she sweats. A lot. As in, a LOT, a lot. If I was a meaner person, I'd probably start calling her 'Pit-Stains', because she's practically sporting them 24/7. I'll give her credits, she gotten really good at hiding her little problem, but there are some things that roommates just know. She's even tried that 'clinical strength' anti-perspirant they advertise on TV, but all that did was turn the armpits of her shirts an awkward color even faster. That girl can ruin a shirt in two months tops, which is why she shops so much. But, I'm sure she'd have no problem with me telling y'all about that. Because she's not embarrassed about who she is.

Also, a couple years ago, she had a crush on my brother Kurt. He's a mutant, too. And he's blue, and furry, and has a tail. I'm not f***ing with you. An actual tail. He wears a hologram image inducer most of the time, but let me tell you, even with that thing making him look all peach-colored and smooth, he's still not exactly a looker. I love the guy, but come on. His hair alone is atrocious, and when he uses his teleportation powers, it smells like ass. And once upon a time, our precious little Kitty wanted to hit that.

We are, of course, talking about the girl who also seriously thought for a time that she was going to end up marrying Lance one day. Lance. With the vest thing, and the mullet. By the way, here's another little tidbit she didn't share on her blog: She totally let him pop her cherry. Yup, Lance 'D-bag' Alvers was Kitty's first. And as if that little bit of info wasn't bad enough on it's own, she reluctantly revealed to me that at 'the moment of completion', he called out: "Avalanche!". And he wasn't just talking about his name.

Think about it for a second.

I know, ew. Disgusting and corny.

And that was her first time, the big momentous occasion that she's going to remember for the rest of her life. Having sex with Lance. Lance Alvers. I know I keep repeating myself, but it bares repeating. I've got a lot of shit on the girl, but that's kind of my piece de resistance. That's French for 'biggest piece of shit I've got on Kitty'. Remy taught me junk back in the day.

See, these are the kind of gems you're gonna get now that I'm behind the wheel. The stuff Kitty doesn't want you to know. Because, trust me, there is stuff she doesn't want you to know. And she's not always as cute and fluffy as she comes off when she's the one telling the story. Remember that whole Julia Roberts thing? Yeah, she was just f***ing nuts. Not fun and quirky and confused like she made herself seem, just one hundred percent bat-crap crazy. From now on, I'm gonna be telling it like it is. Like, right now, Kitty's in the middle of planning Jean's baby shower, and the girl is borderline certifiable. I don't care if her mom had her tested, that test was wrong.

But I'll save that story for next time. I'm not going to spend two hours a day on the computer just so I can inform a bunch of anonymous dillweeds about the crazy crap my roommate does. I have an actual life, after all.

So, welcome to The Brilliant Mind of Rogue. Last name not included. Because even if that was the type of info I gave out freely, I certainly wouldn't do it here, on the internet, and especially not in connection with a blog in which I describe all the details of my and my housemate's lives. Magneto wasn't kidding, that blog was a f***ing security nightmare. Seriously, Kitty can be so dumb. I mean, she's a genius really, but sometimes she's just a world-class freakin' idiot.