Snowflake Christine Milneaux - Munchie who came here to sperg [PM sneasel if you wanna do a proper OP on this tard]

[Kate Farms Shill]

we may actually get a Why Are You Like This KF? video! marvelous!

Doesn’t this make you wish you could see the contents of that other thread she was losing her shit about? Like, imagine 250 pages of this

 

[Munchie_Minder]

Alright, y’all can trash me all that you want to, but I tried reaching out to Christine about a month ago when I first came across her page. While she seemed batshit crazy from the get-go, I thought that talking out her health anxiety with her could actually be helpful and get her to reassess her claims of 'undiagnosed lupus.' It seemed to go well when we messaged; she had never heard of somatoform disorders before and didn't realize something else could be causing symptoms like fever and joint pain. I used up a year's worth of empathy and patience and messaged with her for a couple of hours, sending her medical articles/research hoping that they would get through to her, but it turned out to be a complete waste of time. A few weeks later (last week) I saw this thread, and that she was commenting directly on it. I logged into my throwaway IG account for the first time since I had messaged her, and asked her what the fuck she was doing on KF.

If you want to see how fucked up her reasoning/mind is, you can click here to read our messages from that night.

Here are some of the key points if you don't feel like reading through the screenshots:
- upon finding her name on KF, Christine refers to herself as a public figure.
- when I told her that she was not a public figure, she says: "I just got upgraded to an audience of about 300 from an audience of about 5, so excuse me if I feel like a minor celebrity while I get used to this. There is a bit of a transition here."
- she tells me she has a 'plan' and asks if she can trust me, which I never said 'yes' to
Christine's "Plan" Verbatim:
"Next month I'm going to subscribe to Jan's patreon. The tier that allows for Skype sessions. Maybe I'm having delusions of grandeur right now but I feel like if she gets to know me-- disabled, possibly autistic spoonie sickbed princess-- she'll love me. I don't have enough of a following to be intimidating but I can say the right things and name-drop Mary Frey and compare her favorably to MF, and then... maybe, I dare to imagine, I'm in the circle. Kiwifarms is immediately discarded and forgotten as I have regular communication with chronic illness social media royalty and my insta followers soar."
Yeah. Just take that shit in.
- I tell her that she's narcissistic, manipulative, fucked up, and needs help
- Christine gets back on her bullshit immediately
- another direct quote: "But what if a chronic illness instagrammer is who I am in this phase of my life? What if this is just the world that I have to navigate to have a place? I'm in my late 20s now, which is astonishingly the prime age group for CI Instagrammers and YouTubers. They say that to be an expert at something you have to dedicate 10,000 hours to it and I can think of nothing I've dedicated more hours to than the pursuit of glorified and romanticized illness."


Yeah, I genuinely don't even want to type up more of it because it's so fucking gross. Needless to say I have blocked Christine on IG and will never privately speak with her again.
Or any other munchie for that matter.

And here I thought this thread was officially about to die from boredom. Thank you for your diligent work.

Chrissy, shut the fuck up. You’re NOT a chronic illness influencer. In fact, there is no such thing as a fucking chronic illness influencer. Maybe you would actually need to HAVE a chronic illness to be “meant” to be a chronic illness spoonie star. Guess what! These people aren’t even really famous. 99.9% of people don’t even know who queen goddess Mary Frey is, and she was born with an actual, terrible, life-shortening illness.

Why? Just fucking hell, why? I’m out. People have tried to help you, clearly, but you’re still convinced someone here or there is going to help you get on your way to being the next Jaq Jaq. Jaquie had more balls than you’ll ever have, to fake illnesses in a way that couldn’t be caught, to take things knowing she would be causing illness, to keep manipulating doctors for what she wanted. You couldn’t even pick a fakeable illness.

 

[Kate Farms Shill]

These people aren’t even really famous. 99.9% of people don’t even know who queen goddess Mary Frey is, and she was born with an actual, terrible, life-shortening illness.

THIS.
Even amongst people who study MBI and historical factitious disorder cases for a living you'd be hard pressed to find someone who could tell you who Jaquie or Janiece are. Most of my colleagues find actually following these people to be childish and a waste of time (typical historian snobbery). The only ones who know these people are munchies, church ladies who want to pray for something to feel good about themselves, and us.

 

[Video Games]

"But what if a chronic illness instagrammer is who I am in this phase of my life? What if this is just the world that I have to navigate to have a place? I'm in my late 20s now, which is astonishingly the prime age group for CI Instagrammers and YouTubers. They say that to be an expert at something you have to dedicate 10,000 hours to it and I can think of nothing I've dedicated more hours to than the pursuit of glorified and romanticized illness."

Yeah, and in my current phase in life I'm a vampire astronaut pirate, but for some reason living my true life isn't working out.

It's a roaring dragon and it's a test of skill to put it in a collar and get it to pose nicely like a lapdog and coordinate with your outfits.

Are you implying that his friend's mom died of a "lack of skill"? That you secretly (despite no signs or diagnosis) have this disease, and that you are the one true victim who has learned how to manage it and that's why everyone else suffers horribly and dies but you get to sit around eating edibles and waxing poetic on the Internet? Let's get this straight: NOTHING about you being alive indicates skill. You are lucky to have your health and your life when so many others don't. Not talented, not masterful. A beneficiary of chance.

 

[Burn Book]

Imagine being so much of a talentless boring cunt that your big dream, your life aspiration, is to be a professional youtube sick person.

 

[lurk_moar]

If this munchie really wants to go all Victorian, give up on the lupus. I suggest a more era appropriate disease like consumption, cholera, typhoid fever, or scurvy.

I am really digging rheumatic fever which is sequelae from an untreated infection of a virulent strain of group A strep (Streptococcus pyogenes). Not all strains of group A strep cause complications. Rheumatic fever sounds so romantic.

 

[Ginger Spice]

Christine's "Plan" Verbatim:

Remember me, the one who posted a link to hubby's Reddit account?

I do know your real name. You may not ever use it online (or use it much), but your husband has used his and he was not hard to find. You'd think someone working in his field would be a little more cautious.

You are far more f-ed up than I'd imagined, and weed has nothing to do with it. GET A REAL JOB, for your own sanity and for the safety of everyone you come in contact with.

 

[Christine Milneaux]

Yeah, and in my current phase in life I'm a vampire astronaut pirate, but for some reason living my true life isn't working out.

Are you implying that his friend's mom died of a "lack of skill"? That you secretly (despite no signs or diagnosis) have this disease, and that you are the one true victim who has learned how to manage it and that's why everyone else suffers horribly and dies but you get to sit around eating edibles and waxing poetic on the Internet? Let's get this straight: NOTHING about you being alive indicates skill. You are lucky to have your health and your life when so many others don't. Not talented, not masterful. A beneficiary of chance.

Oh, Zeus, no, that is NOT what I meant. No, gods forbid it and excuse my clumsy mishandling of language. I am so, so sorry. That is not remotely what I meant to say. I too am horrified at how that was recieved.

Please allow me to try again:
I'm absolutely NOT saying that because being gracefully ill is a skill, people who don't wish to or physically can't be graceful are unskilled. That is NOT what I'm saying. And I'm certainly not implying that Jacquie Beckwith, of all people, was less talented than myself!! The opposite is true. What I was trying to say is that living with lupus is a nightmare and simply surviving an act of bravery and great skill, and if one can, even temporarily, make oneself into living art because of, not in spite of, this nightmare, then one has achieved a feat of almost titanic proportions.

To be incredibly clear I do not believe I have achieved this Herculean calling yet, at all. I am not anywhere near on the level of 99% of chronic illness instagrammers. I am an apprentice and a fledgling to this life; I fell sick with my first lupus flare in October of last year. I have not accomplished anything yet. I only have the potential to be a chronic illness influencer; if I'm going to choose this more public life, then I must be the first to admit that I haven't earned my laurels yet. My above comment was in no way intended to be boastful, and again I am incredibly sorry that it came across that way.

 

[Paige Matheson]

View attachment 785053
Remember me, the one who posted a link to hubby's Reddit account?

I do know your real name. You may not ever use it online (or use it much), but your husband has used his and he was not hard to find. You'd think someone working in his field would be a little more cautious.

You are far more f-ed up than I'd imagined, and weed has nothing to do with it. GET A REAL JOB, for your own sanity and for the safety of everyone you come in contact with.

I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get past page 6 of this thread.
Reading her ramblings make my eyes glaze over.
Does this crazy person have CP or not?
I’m guessing not,
Thanks.

 

[Munchie_Minder]

Oh, Zeus, no, that is NOT what I meant. No, gods forbid it and excuse my clumsy mishandling of language. I am so, so sorry. That is not remotely what I meant to say. I too am horrified at how that was recieved.

Please allow me to try again:
I'm absolutely NOT saying that because being gracefully ill is a skill, people who don't wish to or physically can't be graceful are unskilled. That is NOT what I'm saying. And I'm certainly not implying that Jacquie Beckwith, of all people, was less talented than myself!! The opposite is true. What I was trying to say is that living with lupus is a nightmare and simply surviving an act of bravery and great skill, and if one can, even temporarily, make oneself into living art because of, not in spite of, this nightmare, then one has achieved a feat of almost titanic proportions.

To be incredibly clear I do not believe I have achieved this Herculean calling yet, at all. I am not anywhere near on the level of 99% of chronic illness instagrammers. I am an apprentice and a fledgling to this life; I fell sick with my first lupus flare in October of last year. I have not accomplished anything yet. I only have the potential to be a chronic illness influencer; if I'm going to choose this more public life, then I must be the first to admit that I haven't earned my laurels yet. My above comment was in no way intended to be boastful, and again I am incredibly sorry that it came across that way.

Did your doctor do a flu test, in addition to a mono test?

 

[horridtorrid]

I'm deeply sorry for your and your friend's loss, Banh Xeo, sincerely. Lupus is doubtless a terrible disease. It's a roaring dragon and it's a test of skill to put it in a collar and get it to pose nicely like a lapdog and coordinate with your outfits. Lupus-- or idiopathic joint pain and fever for that matter-- isn't naturally a cakewalk filled with flower crowns and pretty outfits; it's our job as chronic illness influencers to get out that message while still looking romantically chic and living our best lives. That said, the last thing I want on this earth, amico mio, is to dishonor anyone's memory. That's the refrain I kept getting on illnessfakers as well, and I simply fail to make the connection between being chronically ill (or if we must get into the semantics, experiencing distressing symptoms in a chronic fashion) and deciding to turn the hand of fate into A Tumblr Aesthetic, and dishonoring victims of that illness. I'm sorry; I just don't see the connection. I have cerebral palsy and I frequently browse the #cripplepunk and #cpunk tags. I love seeing people who have or appear to have my disability making it look so beautiful in the ways that I can't always manage to when living with it day to day. If they can be elegant even just for long enough to take a photograph, so can I, and that thought gives me a little self-esteem boost to keep me going in a rough world that doesn't always like what I look like. I just absolutely fail to see the offense factor here, to the point where I'm actually starting to get a little miffed at KF for seeing it, like one of those illusion pictures where I can only see one half of the illusion.


And you know, if it turns out I'm not supposed to be a chronic illness influencer, that's all right too. If things don't turn out with Janiece, I will be the first one to admit that I am not naturally a social creature and I was being hubristic and foolhardy. You win or you learn, and all that.

It's so much more than a test of skill to "collar the dragon," if you will, for someone who is actually experiencing the illness. Illness refuses to be collared at all, it simply will not happen. Illness will never, ever, coordinate with an outfit and it certainly isn't the sufferer's job to make it so. Here, I'll stoop down to your wilted frame so delicately reclined on your chaise longue in an attempt to create some understanding.

Chronic illness is a dragon, yes, but this dragon may never be tamed into wearing a chain and a name and it will never sit on ones lap except to crush with reckless abandon. It towers over all who see it, completely obscuring any "owner" seeking to make acquaintance; belching blood and covered in growing and popping boils, the teeth from it's terrible maw black as death and smelling just the same. Surely, one could adorn the beast in jewels and lace, wrapped tall to it's gnashing, snarling head and for a moment, the glittering monolith will be almost bearable to see. Too quickly the moment passes as shade from the clouds and the lace is soaked in blood and tissue, the jewels bathed in bile and flesh so they may never shine again, and for one's daring gaze the beast gives only it's horrific cry and the option to either die with thunder and fire or to quietly mourn what once was.

Will the blood boil over, spilling from the mouth as an endless rain? Will the bones snap under their own weight with a cry soft as a footstep? Will the fight be long and arduous, lasting only until every path has been walked with dauntless grace when suddenly, the path ends and the dragon either flies off or finally feeds on it's long awaited meal?

Else, will a simple cough be waved away as naught, a skeletal figure congratulated despite lack of effort, and a slow ache be ignored until the silent feast? Alas, this question is not answered by the meal, but by the dragon itself. It rears and cries and lashes whenever it so chooses and to think otherwise is at best foolish, at worst, immensely insulting to those with a dragon breathing down their necks.

While you have presumed your lap dog to be a dragon, there are those of us who know we will never tame our beast, simply bargain with it to avoid consumption. This is the only boon one could acquire; the animal will only strip us of beauty and romanticism, leaving reality and disgust in its wake. Respectability can only be jealously guarded with perseverance and cunning, adherence to duty and constitution with which to handle the often disgusting nature of one's own flesh. None of which you possess, and none of which your lap dog threatens. Yes, it may snap and yes, it may frighten but give it a bone and it will obediently return to your lap. Best, bones intended for lap dogs are easy to come by and remarkably inexpensive.

Edit: In case I was unclear, and in response to what you just said while I was diligently typing away, one cannot be beautiful because of their terminal illness, only perhaps in spite of it. These diseases are inherently disgustingly hideous, and to imply that they are anything but is delusional, insulting, and condescending.

Spoiler

I'm so proud of me for continuing that edit even close to the same bullshit style holy shit go fuck yourself Chrissy. Anyway...
Bones from your husband are only available to girls under 13 amirite? Spoilered because I have a rant and didnt want to take up a whole page. Also yeah fuck you anyone can sound like Dickens after a raise and a brain injury you aren't special. And earlier in the thread when they were talking about the cancer patient you doubted would want to punch you in the face? Yeah, square up honey. You'll have to give me a minute to stand, I'm Actually suffering from an Actual terminal disease (Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma) but dont worry I still Actually want to sock you as hard as I can, which is hopefully still at least hard enough to shatter your dainty jaw, what with the radium poisoning and all. What in the fuck is wrong with you? What do you mean you dont understand how pretending to be dying is offensive as shit? Fuck you! It's offensive because some of us won't be around to be a washed up fat old hag you fucking dolt. You are not dying of lupus. If you somehow actually have CP then go fuck around with those people! No one will be offended by you claiming to be part of a group that you're actually in! What's offensive is you injecting yourself into a group that is a fucking hellscape and romanticizing the fuck out of it until it's completely unrecognizable and dangerously benign! You want to be a public figure? Fine. Then consider the message that you and people like you send. That chronic illness means you never have to do anything again, that you can stay an immature kid forever playing pretend and daintily coughing occasionally and then making a living off more people who will now think the same thing, creating a dangerous disconnect between the condition is and what people think it is. This doesn't just disrupt diagnosis, it completely fucks over everyone who actually has the disease! What if you were faking NHL, and my boss followed you and saw and believed that it's not all that debilitating, just a little annoying and occasionally mildly damp. He'd fire my dumb ass in ten seconds for lying about my capabilities to get out of work! Thank God not many fake my condition (that I know of dont show me if you think I'm long winded now) because if it was a trendy thing to malinger like fibro is? I wouldn't have my boss's sympathy with my limited ability and continued paycheck to cover massive care costs. I'd have a street corner. And I'd be fucking dead. That's why this is offensive, you risk people's lives and livelihoods with this behavior. A caretaker is not an option for most people, and self sustainence is way too damn uplifting and healing in itself for us to quietly lose to people like you. You are offensive because you lie in a feeble attempt to not have to grow up and actually do something with yourself, and put a terrible name on people who are dying by making us look like lazy sacks of shit! Who the fuck do you think you are? I'd wish an illness you so dearly want on you so that you can regret it minutes after you get it, but honestly it would ultimately make you happy to die young. I hope you die an old, withered woman only seconds after finally realizing you wasted your limited days doing nothing but lie and fuck people over. I know I've just wasted some of my Actually very limited days fucking around with this shit but that's all I had to say. Fucking hell.

 

[Cheeseman]

To be incredibly clear I do not believe I have achieved this Herculean calling yet, at all. I am not anywhere near on the level of 99% of chronic illness instagrammers. I am an apprentice and a fledgling to this life; I fell sick with my first lupus flare in October of last year. I have not accomplished anything yet. I only have the potential to be a chronic illness influencer; if I'm going to choose this more public life, then I must be the first to admit that I haven't earned my laurels yet. My above comment was in no way intended to be boastful, and again I am incredibly sorry that it came across that way.

how smooth of a brain do you have?

 

[Whatthefuck]

Oh, Zeus, no, that is NOT what I meant. No, gods forbid it and excuse my clumsy mishandling of language. I am so, so sorry. That is not remotely what I meant to say. I too am horrified at how that was recieved.

Please allow me to try again:
I'm absolutely NOT saying that because being gracefully ill is a skill, people who don't wish to or physically can't be graceful are unskilled. That is NOT what I'm saying. And I'm certainly not implying that Jacquie Beckwith, of all people, was less talented than myself!! The opposite is true. What I was trying to say is that living with lupus is a nightmare and simply surviving an act of bravery and great skill, and if one can, even temporarily, make oneself into living art because of, not in spite of, this nightmare, then one has achieved a feat of almost titanic proportions.

To be incredibly clear I do not believe I have achieved this Herculean calling yet, at all. I am not anywhere near on the level of 99% of chronic illness instagrammers. I am an apprentice and a fledgling to this life; I fell sick with my first lupus flare in October of last year. I have not accomplished anything yet. I only have the potential to be a chronic illness influencer; if I'm going to choose this more public life, then I must be the first to admit that I haven't earned my laurels yet. My above comment was in no way intended to be boastful, and again I am incredibly sorry that it came across that way.

Girl, sis, sweetheart, you DO NOT have Lupus and it's pretty shitty of you to pretend you do. I've known people with Lupus. It's debilitating, but they get on with it. They go through treatments that wouldn't fit in to your uwu so sick waifu narrative. Frankly, having seen them suffer, this shit is absolutely insulting. These are folks who soldiered through and raised children, had healthy relationships, worked for a fucking living. The last thing they wanted was sympathy or pity. You are a fucking joke.

 

[Christine Milneaux]

It's so much more than a test of skill to "collar the dragon," if you will, for someone who is actually experiencing the illness. Illness refuses to be collared at all, it simply will not happen. Illness will never, ever, coordinate with an outfit and it certainly isn't the sufferer's job to make it so. Here, I'll stoop down to your wilted frame so delicately reclined on your chaise longue in an attempt to create some understanding.

Chronic illness is a dragon, yes, but this dragon may never be tamed into wearing a chain and a name and it will never sit on ones lap except to crush with reckless abandon. It towers over all who see it, completely obscuring any "owner" seeking to make acquaintance; belching blood and covered in growing and popping boils, the teeth from it's terrible maw black as death and smelling just the same. Surely, one could adorn the beast in jewels and lace, wrapped tall to it's gnashing, snarling head and for a moment, the glittering monolith will be almost bearable to see. Too quickly the moment passes as shade from the clouds and the lace is soaked in blood and tissue, the jewels bathed in bile and flesh so they may never shine again, and for one's daring gaze the beast gives only it's horrific cry and the option to either die with thunder and fire or to quietly mourn what once was.

Will the blood boil over, spilling from the mouth as an endless rain? Will the bones snap under their own weight with a cry soft as a footstep? Will the fight be long and arduous, lasting only until every path has been walked with dauntless grace when suddenly, the path ends and the dragon either flies off or finally feeds on it's long awaited meal?

Else, will a simple cough be waved away as naught, a skeletal figure congratulated despite lack of effort, and a slow ache be ignored until the silent feast? Alas, this question is not answered by the meal, but by the dragon itself. It rears and cries and lashes whenever it so chooses and to think otherwise is at best foolish, at worst, immensely insulting to those with a dragon breathing down their necks.

While you have presumed your lap dog to be a dragon, there are those of us who know we will never tame our beast, simply bargain with it to avoid consumption. This is the only boon one could acquire; the animal will only strip us of beauty and romanticism, leaving reality and disgust in its wake. Respectability can only be jealously guarded with perseverance and cunning, adherence to duty and constitution with which to handle the often disgusting nature of one's own flesh. None of which you possess, and none of which your lap dog threatens. Yes, it may snap and yes, it may frighten but give it a bone and it will obediently return to your lap. Best, bones intended for lap dogs are easy to come by and remarkably inexpensive.

Edit: In case I was unclear, and in response to what you just said while I was diligently typing away, one cannot be beautiful because of their terminal illness, only perhaps in spite of it. These diseases are inherently disgustingly hideous, and to imply that they are anything but is delusional, insulting, and condescending.

Spoiler

I'm so proud of me for continuing that edit even close to the same bullshit style holy shit go fuck yourself Chrissy. Anyway...
Bones from your husband are only available to girls under 13 amirite? Spoilered because I have a rant and didnt want to take up a whole page. Also yeah fuck you anyone can sound like Dickens after a raise and a brain injury you aren't special. And earlier in the thread when they were talking about the cancer patient you doubted would want to punch you in the face? Yeah, square up honey. You'll have to give me a minute to stand, I'm Actually suffering from an Actual terminal disease (Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma) but dont worry I still Actually want to sock you as hard as I can, which is hopefully still at least hard enough to shatter your dainty jaw, what with the radium poisoning and all. What in the fuck is wrong with you? What do you mean you dont understand how pretending to be dying is offensive as shit? Fuck you! It's offensive because some of us won't be around to be a washed up fat old hag you fucking dolt. You are not dying of lupus. If you somehow actually have CP then go fuck around with those people! No one will be offended by you claiming to be part of a group that you're actually in! What's offensive is you injecting yourself into a group that is a fucking hellscape and romanticizing the fuck out of it until it's completely unrecognizable and dangerously benign! You want to be a public figure? Fine. Then consider the message that you and people like you send. That chronic illness means you never have to do anything again, that you can stay an immature kid forever playing pretend and daintily coughing occasionally and then making a living off more people who will now think the same thing, creating a dangerous disconnect between the condition is and what people think it is. This doesn't just disrupt diagnosis, it completely fucks over everyone who actually has the disease! What if you were faking NHL, and my boss followed you and saw and believed that it's not all that debilitating, just a little annoying and occasionally mildly damp. He'd fire my dumb ass in ten seconds for lying about my capabilities to get out of work! Thank God not many fake my condition (that I know of dont show me if you think I'm long winded now) because if it was a trendy thing to malinger like fibro is? I wouldn't have my boss's sympathy with my limited ability and continued paycheck to cover massive care costs. I'd have a street corner. And I'd be fucking dead. That's why this is offensive, you risk people's lives and livelihoods with this behavior. A caretaker is not an option for most people, and self sustainence is way too damn uplifting and healing in itself for us to quietly lose to people like you. You are offensive because you lie in a feeble attempt to not have to grow up and actually do something with yourself, and put a terrible name on people who are dying by making us look like lazy sacks of shit! Who the fuck do you think you are? I'd wish an illness you so dearly want on you so that you can regret it minutes after you get it, but honestly it would ultimately make you happy to die young. I hope you die an old, withered woman only seconds after finally realizing you wasted your limited days doing nothing but lie and fuck people over. I know I've just wasted some of my Actually very limited days fucking around with this shit but that's all I had to say. Fucking hell.

That is stunning, brilliant prose. Bravo, bravo. I do get it, to some degree. I'm going to try for once to avoid extraneous details that might annoy you, but very recently I had a mishap with my cerebral palsy that made me look very ungraceful even though I was literally wearing a ball gown and jewels at the time. I received plenty of sympathy from onlookers and from my husband but I still felt a deep sense of shame that I have not encountered since childhood, a sense of shame that I long ago fought to conquer by proclaiming illness my cherished lover rather than letting it rape me. I am not entirely unfamiliar with the unromantic side of illness, I hope I can impress this upon you. I felt and still feel humiliated, but I am determined to romanticize even that incident, and intend at some point in the near future to pontificate about it on Insta.

 

[ADHD]

Y'all, call me nuts, but I'm really starting to wish that this would be the chick Amberlynn would replace Becky with.

 

[China Rose]

I do know your real name. You may not ever use it online (or use it much), but your husband has used his and he was not hard to find.

Yep, same here - it wasn't very hard to find her and her husband's real Facebook profiles simply from what they themselves have posted online.

Also, I find the idea that Janiece (who is dumb as a box of rocks and can barely use basic English) would even be able to understand "Christine's" pretentious wordy ramblings, let alone be impressed by them, pretty hilarious.

 

[pinkbutterfly]

Yep, same here - it wasn't very hard to find her and her husband's real Facebook profiles simply from what they themselves have posted online.

Also, I find the idea that Janiece (who is dumb as a box of rocks and can barely use basic English) would even be able to understand "Christine's" pretentious wordy ramblings, let alone be impressed by them, pretty hilarious.

(The Raw Life = Janiece).

 

[MistressCaridad]

Yep, same here - it wasn't very hard to find her and her husband's real Facebook profiles simply from what they themselves have posted online.

Also, I find the idea that Janiece (who is dumb as a box of rocks and can barely use basic English) would even be able to understand "Christine's" pretentious wordy ramblings, let alone be impressed by them, pretty hilarious.

(The Raw Life = Janiece).

This bitch likes to pretend she’s erudite and flowery in her writing but... she’s fucking not. Honestly, any one of us could eat alphabet soup and shit out more concise and comprehensive paragraphs than this cunt’s word salad garbage posts.

She also doesn’t seem to grasp that people are annoyed by her because she’s a lazy fucking cunt that pretends to be sick when she’s not, she’s just lazy and manipulative. There are several examples where she’s tried to gaslight people in this thread by making a statement and when someone calls her on it, claiming that’s not what she said. Unfortunately, this isn’t the bleeding hearts of Reddit she’s talking to and we’re not so easily misled.

 

[ADHD]

Yep, same here - it wasn't very hard to find her and her husband's real Facebook profiles simply from what they themselves have posted online.

Well don't be stingy, drop the dox!

 

[Whatthefuck]

That is stunning, brilliant prose. Bravo, bravo. I do get it, to some degree. I'm going to try for once to avoid extraneous details that might annoy you, but very recently I had a mishap with my cerebral palsy that made me look very ungraceful even though I was literally wearing a ball gown and jewels at the time. I received plenty of sympathy from onlookers and from my husband but I still felt a deep sense of shame that I have not encountered since childhood, a sense of shame that I long ago fought to conquer by proclaiming illness my cherished lover rather than letting it rape me. I am not entirely unfamiliar with the unromantic side of illness, I hope I can impress this upon you. I felt and still feel humiliated, but I am determined to romanticize even that incident, and intend at some point in the near future to pontificate about it on Insta.

A ball gown. Jewels. Sis, I may or may not be a southern belle debutante and I can bullshit with the best of them and I've never come up with something so fucking pretentious. You may be the next Tennessee Williams with this horse shit. I need a mint julep and a lace handkerchief to handle this level of over-dramatization.

ETA:
pon·tif·i·cate

verb

/pänˈtifiˌkāt/

1. 1.
   express one's opinions in a way considered annoyingly pompous and dogmatic.

I was going to take you up on not knowing what 'pontificate' meant, but ironically, you hit the nail on the head.