Hello Ladies! It's been a solid 2 weeks I think since I've ventured into MJJC threads and even longer since I've been in manhood. Here is a rundown of how I spent my last few days -- Michael edition. Also, if any part of you needed a reminder of how deranged I still clearly am, here it is:
I recently discovered the glory (and sexual torment) of the 'split screen' style video for Michael Jackson performances. APOM performances are already artistic porn (I am so sorry, Michael, you beautiful, hip-thrusting, joyful soul, but it's true) but a SPLIT SCREEN version of two DIFFERENT versions of APOM at the same motherfucking time?!?! I survived exactly 12 seconds of that shit and have yet to catch my breath three days later. I'm still having heart palpitations. Once again, I really do believe I should be hooked up to some lab equipment and studied by scientists everywhere. I'm working on the grant proposals. A few days before this I told someone that if Michael were a volcano about to explode, I would just let him boil me to death, and I believe this may be the most accurate description of how I feel about Michael that I have ever mustered. So that's something.
Anyway, aside from the split screen memories of Michael's thrusts, which call to me like a siren's song, I have had an exceptionally busy work week. Well, the last two weeks have been exceptionally busy, actually. But this morning was my first day I could work from home in awhile, so (naturally) I spent the first 2 hours of it watching Michael. This started out innocently enough, but quite quickly devolved into something else entirely. Some of you may recall how I had a mini-breakdown a few months ago, which I believe I also documented to no one's request, from my reaction to his astounding sexiness and beauty in the live performance of TWYMMF at Wembley in 1988. This mini-breakdown involved me sobbing openly because I was so distraught by how sexy he is. I never claimed not to be unhinged. Nevertheless, I shared this because it felt like a new level of insane, even for me. I am now here to top myself.
This morning I watched the Billie Jean performance from Yokohama, which I have of course seen 12,000 times already. But today I found myself openly weeping. Why? Ladies.... have you seen his sweat in that video? Have you seen it? HAVE YOU?! The top comment on the video I watched was "Never has sweat looked so beautiful" and it has like 1.5k likes, so I am not the only one who is mesmerized by his glistening, dripping skin. But here is what sent me over the edge...
Oh God. I'm not sure I can even type it.
Perhaps you recall when
@zinniabooklover broke me by sharing that some person in a YT comment shared that their mom felt Michael's sweat drip on them at some concert during the Bad tour. This has haunted me like PTSD. Sometimes, deep in the dark of night when I can't sleep, I have visions of Michael's sweat flinging through the air and landing on the skin of some woman 35 years ago who is not me and I want to tie myself to some train tracks just to end my suffering over the reality that it wasn't and could never have been me. So, needless to say, I feel some kind of way about this shit.
Well, today in the comments of this ****** video, underneath the comment about the beauty of his sweat, some person said that their mom, their horrible, unworthy mother, caught Michael's sweaty towel when he threw it from the stage and she kept it the rest of her life.
...
you all.
I just.
where do I begin.
do I have the language.
does the language exist yet? Do I need to invent a language for this new fresh and shiny suffering I am experiencing?
It's not like I didn't know Michael's sweat towels existed, or that he probably threw them into the audiences, and that probably some fans caught them, but never did I expect to be confronted with such a reality whilst procrastinating, and already in such a weakened state at the sight of his beautiful face, and his sex hair, and his every other everything that makes me drown in longing, when really I just want to be drowning in his sweat. Sorry, not sorry, for the semi-grossness of that statement. Just kidding. There is nothing gross about it. If I could drown in Michael's sweat, that would be my chosen avenue toward death.
Anyway, all this lead me to screaming "NOOO!!!" I mean, shouting it. I jumped up immediately and just kept yelling it over and over, and starting crying and laughing like an actual ****** lunatic over this woman I do not know catching a sweat towel in an audience on a continent across the ocean from where I live a year BEFORE I WAS EVEN BORN.
I mean.
What. is. wrong. with. me.
Anyway.
This is what my life looks like off-MJJC, off-Twitter, off-Reddit, off-99% of the FB pages I am on. Basically, I am still the raging psycho I have always been, but now all the psychotic behavior is stemming entirely from me and not provoked by anyone else, which is possibly more alarming...? Hmm. I have to think about that.
I hope it is ok to have my whole contribution to this thread be "story time." But that's what I have to offer.
Oh, hell. I'll throw in sweaty Michael for good measure. But I can't guarantee I won't cry about it.
I'm honestly feeling the "Manhood vibe" most of the time, so while I can only speak for myself, I can definitely tell whenever I have a "Manhood reaction" to something. Though usually, other people tend to agree, lol.
)
what boots? There is only one thing visible in that picture and I was to play it 
