Carnival of Madness

Went to a concert this past weekend.  We had a lot of fun.

There were 5 bands on the ticket... including Papa Roach, Skillet and Shinedown. The band I went to see was In This Moment. There weren't nearly as good live. Oh well, you can't win them all.

Papa Roach was awesome. I would never set out to see them specifically, but I'm glad I got the chance. They put on a good show and the music was great.

Bobby took some pictures of me while we were there. I'm sort of wondering if I've lost too much weight. I don't much care for this picture, but it illustrates what I'm thinking. I'm weighing in at 125 these days, but this looks odd to me. Too skinny?

Motor Mouth

I don't understand how someone's mouth can run 400 miles a minute as soon as their feet hit the floor...

I am not an overly talkative person. I know this is shocking to readers, but it's true. I write. And even when I do talk it's not at 6:30 am.

My roomie, I swear to God, must talk in her sleep. All day long. And whats worse, is she tells me the same shit over and over. Like she's forgotten whom she told her latest drama to already. I guess that's a good thing. I can pretend to listen and I'm not missing anything because I've heard it already.

The woman follows me around the house. She's talked to me through the bathroom door. I don't even let my kids do that. I'm sittin' there on the pot thinkin' 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

I get that she is girly, and girls chatter. It makes me roll my eyes. Makes me want to stick my finger down my throat, but I get it.

Yesterday was a special kind of day. I was up late and didn't even have coffee in hand yet before she started. At some point she asked what was wrong. "I'm not even awake yet." I told her. She tried like hell to be quiet, but still made noises with out saying words. I knew it was taking all of her strength not to talk.

I was up until nearly 1 with Bobby last night. So another late start for me, and again, before I had coffee in hand, her mouth was moving. This morning I was battered with her theories on free love in Europe, the reasons why we are puritan and prison sex. Great topics for morning coffee... NOT!

Fat Girl

I bet you never would have guessed I got fat! I'm not sure how this happened. Well, I am, but I didn't realize it was happening at all. Truly, I was oblivious. It never registered in my brain that I was wearing size 14 jeans. I didn't take the hint when my knees started hurting more often. I am always the one taking pictures, so I never really saw myself.

And then one day my fat ass stepped on a scale. For the first time in years, mind you. And what I saw almost made me faint.

I stretch to reach 5'2” in height. Keep in mind, pre-children, I was a 110 lb Go-Go dancer.

Young and skinny.

Many years, and two healthy babies later, I looked more like a blob of human. It happened slowly. I suppose that is a contributing factor to why I had no clue. But about two years ago, I stepped on a scale and was instantly pissed. The number: 170

Older and Wider (not wiser)

In the middle

And why was I pissed, you ask? Because no one told me I'd gotten fat. Maybe they were trying to spare my feelings. Maybe they thought I knew. Well I didn't. And I've spoken to the people who are close with me and asked why they didn't tell me. They just laughed and didn't take it serious.

60 lbs overweight is A LOT on a 5'2” frame. A 42” waist was just ridiculous! I had no problems getting motivated to lose it and get back into shape. And I'll tell ya, it came off a lot faster than it went on. All I did at first was quit eating garbage. Limiting my sugar to only my coffee. I also stopped eating so much. I took to heart the “fist size servings” the experts recommend.

When I started seeing improvements, I put more effort in. I started working out. Shadow boxing, dancing and more. It didn't take long... I was getting buff. I didn't make radical changes. Opting instead for the simple things. Parking far from the store so I could walk more. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator. It's the little things, trust me.

Today I am much happier. A 29” waist is so much cuter on me. Sure I'm not at 110, nor do I think I'll ever be again. That's not the goal. It's to be in better shape. To put some effort in. Lemme tell ya, going to the thrift store to buy size 6 jeans, because the 8's won't stay up, is fucking awesome!

We Call This Progress

 It's official. Itty Bit is the most clumsy. She's now had more stitches than I have.

When she was about 4, she fell and busted her face on a vacuum. It was a nice lightening bolt shaped split that required 3 stitches. It took 3 nurses and me to hold her down so the doctor could stitch her up. She screamed so hard she burst the blood vessels in her eyes.

This time, she slipped in the bathtub and smacked her chin on the edge. I debated just butterflying it at home, but every time she talked, it gaped. So off to the ER we went.

This time it only took me and a nurse to hold her down. She didn't struggle much. Though she did try to bite the nurse. A couple of times actually. She was mostly calm when the Doctor was actually stitching.

We call this progress. Maybe next time, she'll be good and not have to be wrapped up and restrained.

Playing Catch Up

I've been away, and not had time to read all my wonderful blog broads. I promise I am going to catch up. You can read along with me if you like. This is what I'm reading...

All Fooked Up  

Shoulda Been a Stripper

Ann's Rants

Seriously Shawn

I'm Gonna Kill Him

Enjoy.

This One Time...

At Chat Camp...

My readers know I'm a dorky chatter. I know you are all making fun of me, I just don't care... Anyways. Mama Kat issued her writing prompts for this week and it was so funny that #2 on the list was " That one time you went camping"

As it happens I was "Camping" just last weekend. Bobby and I took off Friday morning on a 4 hour drive to go hang out with a bunch of our chat friends. All in all I think 14 people showed up. Bobby brought all his DJ gear and he mixed live. It was streamed into the chat room all weekend. Friday evening was pretty chill. I had a horrible headache so I didn't drink.

Saturday, on the other hand, was a much different story. I think I cracked my first beer at 2 in the afternoon. Anyone who knows me, knows I don't drink often. So when I do it doesn't take much. By 5 or 6 I was toasted. I'd been thrown in the pool a couple of times. We played a drinking game. Music trivia, which I won. I did my victory dance on a speaker. I was subsequently scooped off the speaker and thrown into the pool... again.

Music Trivia Drinking game

At some point during the day, after my hair had been completely destroyed, someone loaned me their flat iron to fix it. Can I just tell you, one thing you don't ever want to do while intoxicated is try to straighten your hair. I burned the hell out of my fingers. Hey! Mirrors are tricky when your trashed.

 Thrown in... Again.

I broke a candle holder and cut my toe on the glass. I know, Only me! No one else was injured during this camping trip. Oh wait, there was that girl I burned with my cigarette. But I don't think she can be blamed for her injury so it doesn't count.

 Playing the part of Obnoxious Brat

All in all, I had a blast. I didn't puke... I didn't get naked.... and my hangover wasn't unbearable. In my book, that's a good night!

 You join in on the writing prompt fun. I tell ya, that Mama Kat broad has a good thing going. Hop on over and see what it's about.

In Which DQ is Getting Better

We have been working hard on DQ throughout the Spring. She was on the Ablify, and doing so much better. She was a pleasure to be around again. I could see my little girl was still in there somewhere.

They have changed her meds, because she gained 15 lbs on the Abilify. I'm not sure I like the new one, but we are trying it. I have to option to go back if we want.

We've been able to do more things together. I've had the joy of watching her smile and laugh again. I can't express what a relief it is to know this will get better. Because it's really had to enjoy being a parent when your child gets in your face and says "I don't give a fuck what you think."

Recently we went to the beach in the evening, after the sun had set. We walked in the water with our shoes off. I watched her collect shells with excitement. She was a child again. The angry ball of rage was no where to be seen. It nearly brought me to tears to see her this way. I thought I'd never get her back.

I'm looking forward to more positive changes. And I think she is too.

I Must Be Crazy

Yeah I must be crazy. Actually, I'm very up front with people on this point. My chat name is Crazy Tat2ed Chick. All three of those things are true.

Please don't roll your eyes at this post. Clearly I need to have my head checked.

He is:
6 foot tall with tanned skin and broad shoulders.
His eyes are deep. He thinks they are guarded but I see him clearly just by looking in his eyes.
He is older than me by 5 years. I know, it's a first. Usually the young pups are chasing me down.
He is responsible and mature.
Yet a class clown and the life of the party.
He is giving and kind, almost to a fault.
He can keep up his end of the conversation.

And he is also a chatter. The same chatter who lives 400 miles away. The one I was supposed to be safe from because he was so far away. I know, someone needs to smack me. I swore I would never date another chatter. But he's so fucking charming and charismatic.

When the topic of long distance relationships came up, I told him that I wasn't interested for one reason only.
If things work out and we really get on, we will eventually want to be closer together, right? I can't leave this area, because of my custody situation. And I would never ask someone to leave their job and come here. I'm so freakin' smart and level headed sometimes, it's scary.

But then he says, "Let me make something clear to you, dahlin'"
Oh this is going to be good. He's going to say, he's only DTF, and there will be no long term. I am soooo out!
"My job goes where I go." he says. "I was ready to move to The Beach 2 years ago, and do my job with my toes in the sand."
Oh.
"My house will be paid off in 2 years and I don't plan to stay here much longer after that."
Oh.
Well that just threw a wrench in all my carefully thought out logic!
And boy am I glad he did. He came to visit. Sort of a get to know ya, see how we meld kind of thing.

And did I mention he's funny. I was on the phone with him when he dialed up On-Star to get directions to my house. When the lady answered and asked what she could help with, Bobby said, "Yes. I want to go see this really hot girl who lives in virginia beach. Can you tell me how to get to her house."

He is also so sweet and romantic, it's nearly blown me away. While discussing whether I could drive out to see him, he said he would be the one to do the traveling. And when I pouted he said, "Hasn't a man ever cared enough about you to want to do these things for you?" I didn't have an answer for that.

Chatters, as a group, get together sometimes to do dorky stuff. I've been known to plan many get togethers for local chatters. There is a chat camp event coming up. At first there was no way in hell I was going. (Bam was going to be there) Then I thought about it, and I might go, but not tell everyone. And now... Now I can't wait. Bobby and I will get to spend the weekend together, hanging out with our friends and being big chat dorks.

Yeah, Life is Good!

This Motha Fucka

Ah the boys of chat... Bam fucked up my chatting for a long time. I didn't even sign into the chat client for a long ass time, so as not to "bump into" him. Then when I did go back I avoided him. If I went into a room, and he was there, I left. But here's the thing... The room he was hanging out in, everyone else was there too. Seeing as I did nothing wrong, I decided fuck it. I can hang out there and ignore him. Surely we can act like grown fucking adults, right? Right?

Uh, no. Apparently not.

Real quick, for those people who aren't familiar with chat, let me share...
I chat on Paltalk. Each chat room has an owner. Usually the owner designates a couple of people to keep an eye on things. Such as, no nudity on cam or in profiles. (it happens) No bugging the crap out of the girls trying to hook up... you get the idea. These people are called Admins. I quickly figured out why Bam was always in that room, he is an Admin.

Well great. He has the power to kick me out whenever he wants. Whatever. I'll ignore him, and it will be fine. It quickly become apparent that he's trying to get people against me. No one really talks to me. Which is odd, because they used to before. Huh? Ok, it'll just take some time for the newness of the Bam/Missy drama to wear off. They'll see that I'm awesome, and things will go back to normal.

Well let me get straight to the point. Bam is fucking crazy! It takes a while but I finally figure out that while we were dating he installed some kind of program on my laptops that allow him remote access somehow.
He knew the moment I opened a dating profile.
He knew when I started talking to another chatter.
My PayPal got hacked, TWICE. Wonder what that was?
And when I created a different nickname to sing in the room under, he was the only one who knew it was me.

Keep in mind, that we have not contacted each other AT ALL since he told me to keep the ring and hoodie. (I gave the hoodie to DQ.)
The nastiness started slowly. Little barbs that only I knew were meant to be hurtful. So I sent him a quick email asking that we not bring drama in the room and just get along. Water under the bridge and all. And little did I know, that behind the scenes he was telling people all kinds of crazy shit.

Meanwhile, all the girls love him. He gets on cam with no shirt on and they all soak their panties over him. Fine by me. Until they all treat me like crap cuz I'm "The girl who did him wrong" Oh but wait, Didn't he break up with me? Why yes. And wasn't that like 4 months ago? Yes again.

So this room, that everyone likes because they don't put up with drama and bullshit, quickly turns into a cat fight when I start showing up. And for the most part, I have no idea why or whats really going on.

Then the room owner and I start talking a little. I swore I would never date another chatter. But there is no harm in talking to him. He lives 400 miles away. Safe for me cuz nothing could come of this. In my paranoid head, I somehow think he's fucking with me. All the other Admins hate me. Maybe they are trying to play a fast one on me.

Finally, I'm let in on some of the behind the scenes talk. Bam is telling everyone that I'm stalking him. WHAT? You're out your fucking mind son. I had to laugh at that one because I didn't tap into his computer... it was the other way around. Who is stalking who?

The owner (Bobby) and another Admin start catching on to his little barbs. Bobby sees that Bam is talking about parts of private conversations. Bam is warned multiple times to keep it out of the room. And then it hits the fan.

I'm sitting there minding my own business, waiting to play music trivia, when Bam starts posting zingers in the public room. He basically calls me a whore, and warns Bobby that he'll get used. He is warned one last time. Then Bam sends me a virtual gift. Which everyone in the room can see. "A Kick In The Butt". Nice. Fucking mature of you. Way to show your ass moron! I didn't respond. I just sat and watched.

By that point Bobby has had enough. Bam is stripped of his admin rights, booted from the room and banned for life.

He immediately messages Bobby and says "Missy is only talking to you to get to me."

Then he messages another Admin and says he still loves me. Ah, I'm gonna have to call bullshit on that one.

The room looses 2 female admins, because they think Bobby is taking my side, simply because he wants to get with me. People are so clueless. Girls are especially stupid sometimes. No wonder I hang out with mostly guys.

Through out this whole thing, I've given Bobby the short version of what happened between me and Bam. He asked. I was honest. And the both of us are confused, because he broke up with me. There has been no contact since then. Why is he acting like this? Bobby seems to think Bam will try to get me back. And he is worried that I might accept him. Ah, not even if hell froze over!!! Sorry, I don't do psycho.

That night, he was acting like such a lunatic, I was actually scared. I just knew he was going to blame me for him loosing his room. Even though I didn't say a word. But clearly he was not thinking straight. Every time I went outside to smoke, I sat with my Glock in my lap. I'll be the first to tell you, men do stupid shit.

Fast forward a little bit, and I still can't figure out why he acted like that. He's never contacted me directly. Finally, the other day I had an Ah-ha moment. It's an ego thing with Bam, He was thinking when he dumped me that I would pine and cry over him. Beg him back. Clearly he didn't know me well, because Missy does not chase boys. And when I did come back to chat, I didn't start drama. Didn't flirt with him. I ignored him and started talking to someone else... He realized I didn't want him. His little feelings were hurt. His ego bruised. I really don't think Bam wants me back. And even if he did, that bridge burned long ago. No, He doesn't want me. He would like to think I can't live without him. And it eats him alive that our history is no skin off my nose.

All Settled In

I know, I know. It's been a long ass time since you's heard from me. I'm a busy bitch, what can I say? The house I moved into needed a whole lot more work than I was lead to believe. Every square inch needed paint. And that would have been simple enough, if the last asshole to paint this joint hadn't used oil based paint. For those who don't know, other paints won't stick to oil. FML. But it's almost done now. I'm to the point where I can sit back and enjoy the place.

My roomie is a spaz and she talks way too much for my taste. But... she doesn't have 4 cats that never get cleaned up after. Also, she is pretty clean. I can't bitch too much.

Her kids are great... usually. And we have a nice system of babysitting so we can take turns doing stuff without our kids. Just last weekend I had her kids so she could go camping. I'm awesome right? Yeah, I know.

So there ya have it. I'm back. Don't groan. I heard ya's. It's not that bad. Catch ya on the flip side.

Excused Absence

For those of you not following along, I'm moving. Only a couple houses down, but still. The same amount of work will be required.

Before I can move though, the new house needs a tiny bit of work. Mainly the carpets need to be cleaned and everything needs to be painted. The homeowner had a nasty cat, and their kids peeled the paint in spots, just for fun.

So that's what I'll be doing this weekend. We've got a brand new carpet cleaner and a bottle of enzyme solution. We've got a 5 gallon bucket of Behr premium paint. My new roomie and I will be up to our elbows in making the new house beautiful.

And really, I can't wait.

I never asked to move in with the roommates we have now. The wife suggested it. It was to be a win/win situation. They could get their house out of foreclosure, and I would have a live in babysitter to get my kids off the bus.

My current roommates did not keep their promises.

This house was supposed to be a good place for my kids. I was told that she wouldn't yell at or punish my children. I was told she would be around to help my kids with homework and snack in the afternoon. I was told that we would all work together on things like meals and cleaning.

The reality is:
My kids, especially DQ, get treated like second class citizens. The wife has threatened to punch my child. The husband has told her not to speak to him ever again.

Her idea of helping my kids in the afternoon is to unlock the door for them. And many days, she's forgotten to do that. I get a call from my neighbor saying Itty Bit is locked out.

They don't clean anything, especially the litter boxes for their 4 cats. I've been told everything smells like cat piss and menthol cigarettes. (I don't have a sense of smell) They left their Christmas tree up until the end of February. Hell there are still lights hanging off the house.

In the time we've been here, ONE meal has been served that I didn't cook. One time, I came home and dinner was already cooking. And even then, I had to clean up after it. I was responsible for dinner every single day except that one.

Anyone who knows me, knows I am miserable in a mess. My home has always been clean and organized. I'm slightly germ phobic. All this filth had nearly driven me crazy.

My new roomie, Mel, is awesome. She is also a single mother with 2 kids. Her oldest is autistic. We're going to call him Whip, because he is as smart as one. He is high functioning because of the love and attention she's paid to him. Her youngest is Itty Bit's best friend. We're going to call her Fire. One, because she has beautiful red hair, and two because she is a fire cracker!

Mel is Itty Bit's girl scout troop leader. She is clean and organized. At least that's what I've seen when I visit. Lets hope it stays that way.

We've pooled our resources to make a nice home. She has a vacuum, I have pots and pans. Together we're going to provide our kids a safe, clean, fun and loving home.

We both look forward to big family meals and family game night. Our home is going to be filled with music and laughter.

On a side note, I have a second date this weekend. We're going to call him Aquarius. He has long, blond hair crawling down his back. He is funny as hell. I think I scare him just a bit, but he's being brave in asking me out. We had a couple drinks at Applebee's earlier this week. And the kiss goodnight was the best one I've had in more years than I can remember. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to more of those.

So for now, I'm going to be away from the blog world. Shouldn't take me too long. And the internet is being turned at the new house Monday.

Until I get things settled, or something happens that's so extrodinary I can't wait to share....

Love   Peace   and chicken grease~!

Tell My Mama What

Another fabulous writing prompt from Mama Kat:
5 Things You Should Never Say to Your Mother

My mom is 76 years old. Be that as it may, she is still about all most of her wits. She is my favorite adult person. She is the one I turn to when I need to vent or moan about a problem.

Still, as close to being a Girlfriend as she is, there are things I would never say to her. It might be funny to see her reaction though, if I were brave and not with-in smacking distance.

1: You would not believe the amazing sex I had last night.
     I know! This one is obvious. But still. My Mom and I have been known to get tipsy on a bottle of wine together. It would be nice if I could share something good for a change.

 2: I got my tongue pierced. And then stick your tongue out to show her.
     I'm telling you this one from experience. Because, at age 26, I did just that. She was so mad she threw a 2 liter. It was at that point I decided not to tell her I got my nipple done, too.

3: Your best friend and I had a chat today about sex. She encouraged me to masturbate and wanted to know if I had toys.
     Yeah... this is a true story. My Mom's best friend and I had this exact conversation, when I was single. She has since passed away, and I want my Mom to remember her friend as not being a perv.

4: You were much nicer when you smoked.
     My Mom is one of THOSE people, when it comes to smoking. She smoked for years. She has since been a non-smoker for years. She acts like my smoking is a personal assault on her.

5: Your other daughter is a bitch!
     Some of you know, my Mom is my foster Mom. To me she will always be My Mom. She had adult children by the time she got me. My "sister" has never liked me. Or my kids. Or really anyone else that I know of. She looks down her nose at all of us. Unless she needs my Mom to fly to California to take care of her kid for three weeks.

You can play too.

When it All Works Out

You want to talk about stress? I got a quick rundown for ya.

I am a single mom with no financial or co-parenting support.
I struggle to pay my bills Every Single Week.
DQ is Bi-polar and everyday is a test of my self control not to smack her.
Between Work, Girl Scouts, Dr. appointments, Court.... I run around like headless chicken.
My roommates are absolute slobs.
Everyday it's my responsibility to feed and clean up after EVERYONE in my house.
I have to find a new home for my dog.
I can't afford a real lawyer to take The Douche to court for alimony.
The Douche CAN afford a lawyer to thwart all my court actions.
I have been advised by my Legal Aid "Attorney" to find a better place to live.

I could keep going but I think you get the point.  The important one on the list is the last one.  I won't go into detail about that one right now, except to say, if I don't move, I risk losing custody of Itty Bit. Yeah, OVER MY DEAD BODY!

Alright, so when I picked myself up off the floor, and put on my big girl pants, I found a perfect opportunity. Itty Bit's Girls Scout leader needs a new roommate because hers are moving out of state. It's a 5 bedroom house, with plenty of room for everyone. She is clean and organized. I can afford the rent/bills. The girls won't have to change schools. Perfect! Right?

Except that I couldn't save up for the first months rent. When The Douche paid his child support back in December, they took away my food stamps. Which was fine by me. Until he stopped paying it in January. Then I was screwed. They will reinstate them in April. Until then I use whats left of my paycheck to feed everyone. I pay my household bills on a week by week basis.When it's all said and done there is nothing left To Save.

I was really looking forward to my tax returns. I was golden on that alone. Until they took all $4000+ of it for a 14 year old debt. Then I was fucked again. Until The Mural came up. I was saved again at that point. Until she changed her mind. Then I was... you know. I have already signed a rental agreement for the 1st of April. That's less than a week away. I'm screwed in every way but the good one. I'm also freaking out!

I don't subscribe to organized religion. I think church is a crock of crap. But I am spiritual. I've been asking God How much more am I expected to handle before I just give up? What have I done to deserve all this? Why do my girls get punished? When is enough enough? I prayed that he would help me with my current dilemma so I can give my kids a better place to live.

Yesterday I sent DQ out to check the mail. She came back with an envelope that looked a lot like a government check. Addressed to me. Maybe child support? Ha, over HIS dead body. No, it was a remaining balance of $950 from my tax return. My debt is paid and there was some change! I nearly cried in relief. And then text my roomie-to-be to inform her!

Not only can I pay my first months rent and move out of this shit hole... But my debt is paid. So when the Human Services Department of the city hiring police officers checks my credit history, that won't be a flashing sign of "Irresponsibility"! Oh, didn't I mention I am in the application process for the police department? No? Well that's another post for another day.

Yes, every day I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. But somehow, when it really, really counts, we manage to pull through. I can only attribute this to the grace of God.

Pricing My Services

I may have mentioned that I'm a custom painter. I look forward to the rare occasions when I get to paint a mural. It doesn't happen often, but when it does I am like a giddy child.

I love to paint. I am fortunate to get paid to do it.

Recently, a client inquired about a mural in her young sons room. She wants a jungle theme. I went over and talked to her. Gave her some sketches. Drew a floor plan of the room and noted where she wanted each element.

On the main wall, with no windows or doors, she wants a complete mural, edge to edge. The wall is about 9 feet by 9 feet. Not huge, but not small either.  In another corner she wants a recreation of a funky tree I did on another mural. In yet another corner she wants a jungle tree with a monkey in it. These are the layouts I came up with.

 

Beach front view. Water and sky with cliffs.

Funky tree

My problem in doing these is how much do I charge? These are the only projects I get to price out myself. Because I run the show on these. No one else I work with can really do these. I am a fine line artistic painter. But how much is my time and talent worth?

For this mural I decided to charge what I am normally billed out at on large projects. $35.00 an hour. It's a relatively simple project, so I estimate it will take me 40 hours of painting. That works out to be $1400.00. Now that doesn't sound high to me. But what if it does to the clients? They can afford it. Just trust me on that. But just because a client is well off doesn't mean they are going to be okay with your price.

On the other hand...

There is another VERY GOOD mural painter in our area. His work is all over the city. He recently did a 9x9 foot mural and charged $12,000.00 for it. Yes twelve thousand! I could never see charging that much to paint a wall. I wouldn't be so high on myself to think my talent is worth that. It's exorbitant as far as I'm concerned. But his work is EVERYWHERE. So other people don't think it's too high, obviously.

Whats the middle ground? What is a fair price that a private home owner might be willing to pay? Help me out here please!

 

The tree she wants duplicated. 

UPDATE:

Before I could even get this up and ready to comment on, the client changed her mind. Or her son did rather. He now wants fat head cars. Whatever the hell those are. They are ordering some kind of sticker to put on the wall. Seriously bummed now.

Spaz

I have a coffee cup. It's green and a little large. It's my favorite cup. It was a gift. It has paw prints on the inside...and on the outside it says: Some of the best conversations I have are with my cat.

It's my favorite cup because the words are so true. Well, that and it holds more coffee than the average cup.

Spaz was originally a birthday gift for The Douche. A tiny feral kitten covered in flees when we got her. A black furry ball of terror, she was. I had to hand tame her. She was from a long line of feral farm cats and her natural instinct was to run away. I worked with her for months before she settled into being a house kitten.

When she first came to us, I had no choice but to bathe her in our kitchen sink with Dawn every other day because she had flees. She was too young for the drops. And boy did she hate that. She was good at throwing the kitty scowl face at me, in case I didn't know, cats don't like to be bathed in kitchen sinks.

Spaz got her name because of her odd behavior. She would tear ass around the house, going up and around the top of the couch, bounding off walls. We called it The Kitty 500. She once got a hold of a snake skin my daughter got from the aquarium. She had that thing under our couch and actually growled at anyone who dared take her “kill”.

One thing that sets Spaz apart from most other cats I've seen is her talkativeness. She will follow me around the house, talking up a storm. I answer her back. How could I not? She “speaks” with different tones and inflections. She is so good at it, I can usually understand what she has to say.

In the morning when I am tooling around my bedroom getting ready for work, she has a lot to say. Spaz will walk the edge of the bed, following me as I move around the room, talking, talking, talking. In the mornings I swear she is saying “mom”. Usually she wants her kitty treats. And when she is done, she is back on the bed until I stand still to listen to her. She will walk her front paws up my stomach and reach for me. I have to bend down so we can butt heads. This is her way of saying thank you.

When I settle in bed for the evening, we have some quality time together. She will climb in my lap and purr and rub her face on mine. This is “I missed you. I thought you'd never get home.”

If I am up late on the computer, she has no qualms about bithcin' at me. She will stand next to my chair, and meow sweetly, putting her paw on my leg to ensure she has my attention. This is “Mom, it's past our bedtime. I'm tired. Come on.”

When we sleep, she has to be touching me, somehow. If she's not on top of me, she is curled in behind my knees. She is all about a nap. When I want to lay down during the day, she thinks it's great. And the best part is she snores. Loudly! It's hilarious.

God forbid, if she runs out of food before I get up. She feels like it's her duty to wake me so that I can fill her bowl. This usually happens around the 4 am hour. And she won't take no for an answer. I can toss her off my bed 10 times and she comes right back. Putting her paw on my face. Sniffing my nose. Climbing on my head.

When I am sick, or depressed, she is my shadow. Never leaving me for more than a few minutes. Curled up with me. Talking me off the ledge. Giving me little kitty kisses. Somehow I know this cat loves me. She and I can take on the world together. Or... at least talk about doing it.

I am Not Irish

Mama Kat gave us this writing prompt: Something You Ate...

Well, being the rebel that I am, I'm going to say something I cooked, and THEN ate... like a pig!

I like food. I don't particularly like to cook it but I don't mind eating it at all. Especially when it comes to some of my favorites. A good pasta. A rare steak. Nachos...

One of my favorites is Corned Beef. And I just love March for the fact that Corned Beef usually goes on sale. This year I damn near forgot. It was the day before St. Patrick's when the girls and I were in the store looking for dinner. This family came in decked out in green. They'd been to the parade, which I missed due to a previous engagement. (scowl)

When I saw them I rushed over to the beef section and scooped up the last corned beef. I almost missed out on it this year. 

I am not Irish. But I cook like one when it comes to this. Mine is better than a friend of ours who is straight off the boat from Ireland.

A good corned beef is pretty simple to make. I skip the cabbage, because none of us really like it, and I don't want to encourage THAT kind of gas. Here is a winner for ya.

@ 2.5 lb brisket

Couple of thick onion slices

2 bay leaves

Palm full each of salt and pepper

Baby red potatoes

Carrots

And the most important ingredient, 6 pack of BEER

Brisket, onion, bay leaves, salt and pepper go in the pot. Add 50/50 beer water until brisket is cover and or floating. I emptied two bottles of beer and added two bottles of water.

Cover and let simmer on low 6 hours

Add red potatoes to fill the excess room in the pot.

Drink the other 4 beers. Maybe you'll get a nice buzz and forget that you're cooking corned beef. Maybe it will keep you from taste testing the corned beef ahead of time. Just a theory.

Continue cooking on low another 2 hours.

At the 8 hour mark, remove the meat and potatoes from the pot. Slather REAL butter on beef and cover with foil to stand.

Add peeled chopped carrots to broth/water/beer. Bring to slow boil and cook 20 mins. If your potatoes get cold in that time, you can dip them back in the water when the carrots have cooked.

All done!

For my family, what takes more than 8 hours to cook, only takes 15 minutes to devour. It takes longer to clean up than it does to eat this meal. There aren't even any left overs.

But damn is it soooo worth it.

Now go play with Mama Kat. She likes it... trust me.

More POF Fun

 

Morbid curiosity led to me switching up my search criteria. I went on POF as a male looking for a female between 34 and 44. If you're ever feeling low, I highly recommend this. My self-esteem went through the roof.

First glance is the profile pictures. To our cores, we are all visual people. We want to see what people look like. And the options for the men in my age group aren't very pleasant. Aside from big or small and other things we have no immediate control over.... Well, I lean towards thinking that if you're extremely overweight, you probably don't have much self esteem. But I can look past that.

You've got the women with a ton of make-up and those with none. Some look like drag queens. Some have had so much plastic surgery it's comical. You've got the ones with huge fake boobs. I feel sorry for them. That was a trend in the 90's that's fallen out of favor. Unfortunately, they are stuck with those silicone bags. The girls who can't be bothered to put a bra on who haven't had a boob job. At our age ladies, it's sad. I'd say less than 10% are normal good lookin ladies.

Past the first profile images are the headlines:

Don't try and run game on me.

Rescue me

Do I crank your tractor?

Looking for the BASS of my dreams

Lets move on. Again, reading profiles is hilarious. There are numerous girls stating they are not looking for intimate encounters. They are good Christian woman and want to be respected. But when you look at their other photos, they tell a different story. Back to the camera, hands on a wall, poppin' their ass out, looking over their shoulder. Trying for the sex kitten look. Oh yeah! Nothing screams self respect like “Check out my ass”

Some are very jaded. I suppose they've been on POF too long and run across some real assholes. But really girls? You knew you would be dealing with a wide pool of men. Many of which are dogs. What else did you expect? They go on and on about the things they won't tolerate. And if you are blah blah blah, move on. What they are really doing is telling the potential good guy: high maintenance, and bitchy.

I'm baffled that they can't weed through the crap and ignore it. They respond to the bad apples in their profiles, turning everyone else off in the process. Guys want to read about you. The things you like to do, and what makes you happy. What you are generally looking for. They don't want to read about all the bad experiences you've had with other POFers.

I especially liked the one where the lady says she loves to cook and clean. “That's right guys, I love being domestic and taking care of my man” or some such shit. What I read is desperate.

I should be a profile and/or lifestyle coach. These women have no clue, and then wonder why they can't get a date.

On the other hand, I'm debating how sad it makes me, that I am lumped in there with them, seeking a date. Something to ponder. But not now... I've got messages to check and cute boys to look at.

Here's my profile. What can you read between the lines?

I am the good kind of crazy. Moderately tattooed, mildly pierced, mother of two. I'm an artistic painter by day and for my hobby. Music is the background to my life. The last 3 show I went to were, Halestorm, Framing Hanley and 100 Monkeys. I'm looking forward to seeing Volbeat at the Luau.

I have a raunchy sense of humor, which I usually keep to myself, unless I know you well. I am loud, open and very social. I like to go out with friends for drinks or coffee. I love movies, but hate slapstick. I also enjoy comedy shows. I think Bill Maher is a genius. Ricky Gervais makes me laugh til I cry.

Music interests vary depending on my mood. I stray more towards hard rock. Godsmack, 5FDP, Disturbed, and Pantera top my list. I'm recently in love with Volbeat and Halestorm. When I'm cleaning, you might catch me dancing around to hip hop. On a rare occasion I'll indulge my youngest in her love for country and girl bands. I dig going out to see live local bands.

I'm allergic to the sun, so I can't do the "outdoorsy" thing with you. Don't let that stop you from doing it without me. In fact, I feel like a good relationship involves doing somethings without your mate. It's important to me that you have other friends and interests.

I am currently in the application process for the Ches. Police Dept. This is my plan for the future. If you're into getting high on the weekend, I'm not the one for you!

Yes, I am separated, with absolutely no chance of reconcile. We've been separated for more than 3 years. I have custody of my 2 girls, and they are my priority. But I do have some time to invest in a good relationship. I would love to find “the one”. Someone to take on the world with. Someone to grow old with. I have a lot of love and passion for the right man.

Randomness:

When I sing, I sound like someone is killing a cow. I don't care, I do it anyway.

There is more coffee in my veins than blood.

Clutter makes me insane!

I am the most coordinated, rhythmic, white girl you'll ever meet... on the dance floor. Otherwise I'm a klutz.

POF makes me think Pound of Flesh. Is that just me?

Random Thoughts

Why can't I ever write a short blog post? Aside from random thoughts and the like, I can't limit my bitchin' at all. I'm convinced you guys need/want all the details.

The POFer seeking a 1950's Submissive Housewife wants to meet me. I'm positive there is absolutely nothing in my profile that would indicate I might be interested in getting to know someone like him. I'm laughing hysterically about this one.

I've decided I hate cookie booths. Standing around for two hours is boring. Do you know how much crap I can get done in two freakin' hours? Thank God we are on our last week!!!

I miss playing with Legos. I have always loved those little plastic, sharp edged blocks. Except when I step on one. Then they suck. But otherwise they are all together awesome!

I just found out Anderson Cooper is gay. I never had a clue.

On a final note, I'd like to encourage everyone to read this post at Late Enough: Friends Don't Let Friends Rape  It is not happy or funny, but it IS important. 

In case you missed it, I bitched about:

My Gun

My Dates

My Ex 

 

Bam is Confused

I must apologize in advance for the poor grammar, spelling and writing structure of this post. I only changed Bam's text to remove my child's name and put DQ in it's place.

As previously stated, I had no problems getting over Bam. The way he dropped me spoke volumes about his character. Keeping in mind that he broke up with me, I'll share the message I got from him last week.

Well since you obviously don't get it and lost complete interest in me and already looking for someone else, Don't count on me being your second chance if your next partner doesn't work, You really want to know why I broke up with you, you have no respect, 2 fuckin weeks and you are already looking, good luck to you and consider this goodbye forever!

I responded with a simple message:

Who said I was dating. And why should it matter to you? You didn't want me, remember? And you will see me again. I've got your DC hoodie and a ring that you want back.

The next day I found this in my email:

You're right, you don't matter to me "now", The way you acted, you being all loud and critical about Debbie's church and shit when we were just trying to help your daughter. We tried our best to help you, you expected your daughter who's so smitten with some boy to just wait one week, to just stop contact, just like that. You don't know what love is. Which is why you are so quick to look for another guy. I could tell with her in the room that she was really in love with the guy even though it was stupid love, just like I with you. She gave you good advice but you put a stupid one week test out there? You knew DQ was going to break that. Anyone who's in love would break your stupid fucking one week test. And I told you when I gave you that second chance that you are going to have to help me rebuild my trust in you. You not only ignored that but made it worse with your selfish attitude and some of your wreckless decisions to do with DQ. I tried so fucking hard to be nice to you but you keep testing my nerve, well now you tweaked it with not respecting what we had, not even 2 weeks and you are trying to date, absolutely no respect for what we had which probably didn't mean shit to you since you are back on the block getting your fuck on. And to think I was going to wait for you? Damn, I was stupid. Atleast I can say from my end that breaking things off with you was a damn good decision. Thanks for using me and wasting my time. I see now why there are some people who dislike you. Keep the hoody and ring, I do not want to see or hear from you ever again. God help you and your fucked up ways.

I was a little steamed when I read this. I resisted the urge to respond though. This relationship is over. No need to go back and forth. Besides, it sounds as though he's got some twisted ideas about me. Whats the point of trying to change his mind when I really don't care what his opinion is?

For the record, his friend Debbie told me her church was non-denominational. In reality it was an extreme evangelical “church” They scared the hell out of DQ. Speaking in tongues and falling on the floor and shit. I was pissed when I got her back that night!!!

DQ broke every household rule when she found this boy. She's not allowed to date. She's not allowed to have simulated internet sex. She needs to focus on herself and the mess she's in. But then Bam is not a parent, so he wouldn't understand the things we'll do to keep our kids safe. Being that he is a child himself, I guess he would take DQ's side.

Bam didn't give me a second chance. It was a lot closer to the other way around. I tried to tell him I couldn't devote the time he required of a girlfriend. He said he would take what he could get.

I ain't getting my fuck on. I'd like to, but ultimately, I'm not a whore.

And on a final note, YAY! I get to keep the hoodie. I love this fuckin' thing. And the ring, a tungsten carbide black band. I've got no problems keeping that either. It matches the original black band I had that I gave to DQ when I got the new one. We have matching rings. That's what I see when I look at it. It doesn't remind me of Bam.

So for you Bam... YOU can fuck off and get bent!

Foxy Friday: POF Edition

I am having too much fun on this dating site. Really! Someone needs to stop me.  I've run across some real hotties. Man if I were more whorish, I would be in BIG trouble.

For now I want to share in the yummy. First up on the list is:

The Player

We were talking a lot. I gave him my number so we could text back and forth. Things were going great. He asked me if I'd be interested in a couples massage. Hells Yes! But when I asked him where, he said "My house or Yours." I am nothing if not honest. I told him I wasn't comfortable with that, having not even met yet. I never heard from him again.

The Bad Boy

With a great smile

You guys could probably peg me for liking this type. His profile is snarky and quick witted. We've been talking a little. We'll see where that goes.

And last in the line up, for today anyway is:

The Cop

He looks like a cross between Sully Erna (Godsmack) and Gerard Butler Don't ya think?

Believe it or not, The Cop is the one I actually went out with. We talked for hours over coffee, where he poked fun at how short I am. Our second date was spent in an arcade where I whooped his butt at air hockey and he helped/distracted me at pinball. It ended with us making out like teenagers up against Centipede. If I was a dirty dirty whore, I would have so gone home with him.

A Girl and Her Gun

Let me preface by saying, this has NOTHING do to with the current gun debate in our country. I am a gun carrying Democrat. No, I don't think they are going to outlaw my right to bare arms. They may restrict who can own a fully automatic weapon. I'm ok with that.

No, this is about the fact that I open carry a Glock 34.

When I first got my restraining order, I couldn't sleep. I was in a constant state of panic. I was waiting for the bomb to go off. I took the class for the carry/conceal permit. In doing so I learned that it's perfectly acceptable, as a law abiding adult, to open carry a side arm in my state. And so.... that's just what I did.

I originally wanted a .22, because of it's size and controlability. My friend, who also open carries, explained that a crazy person could take a couple rounds from a .22 and keep coming. I thought he had an excellent point. So I went with the 9 mm. Enough to blow a hole in someones ass, but not enough to knock me on mine, which kind of defeats the purpose of self defense.

I am a good shot. Back in MI, I used to shoot skeet. Even my first time, I didn't miss any of the moving clay targets with the 12 gauge shot gun. I do get fussed at for not using my sights. I sight down the barrel because I have a better success ratio that way. I hit my target center mass, no problem. And if I really try hard, and the paper isn't moving, I can make a head shot, by lining up the barrel.

I understand the extreme dangers of having a gun in my home. I'm a scatterbrain when it comes to most areas of my life. One thing I am fully aware of at all times is my weapon.

I get a mixed bag of reactions when I open carry in public. Oddly enough, it's usually men who comment on it. And who knew men were so stupid?

As I'm standing at the coffee counter in my painter clothes, they whisper to each other, “She must be an undercover.” I get a little giggle at these sorts of comments. They are the type I get most. I always want to ask if they are naturally so dumb. If I was undercover, why would I have my service weapon on my hip? “Are you a cop?” “Nope, I'm a painter.” I thought that was obvious by my attire. Silly me.

The guy in Target: “Oh no! She's got a gun. Don't hurt me ma'am.” As he jumped back and and waved his hands in the air, the universal sign for “I mean no harm.”

Me: “Don't be stupid.”

He was trying to be funny. I really wanted to say, “Oh no! A black man. Please don't rob me.”, because that's exactly how moronic his comment sounded to me.

My corner 7-11 has a mini precinct in it. Yeah, I live in a bad neighborhood. I'm poor remember? There are always a number of police officers in there on any given day. When I first started to carry, I thought I would get some harassment out of the police for it. Boy was I wrong. One of them actually walked up to me and said, “I wish everyone would exercise that right.”

Since I frequent that 7-11 to supplement my coffee addiction, they know me pretty well there. My favorite clerk told me that the cops talk about me a lot and think it's pretty awesome I am so proactive in my own defense.

I did have an adverse reaction from a woman, standing behind me in line.

Lady: Is that thing real?

Me: Yes ma'am. (In my head: No, it's a freaking water gun.)

Lady: Can I ask why?

Me: Because I have a crazy ex-husband and the piece of paper the protective order is written on won't do me much good if he sneaks up on me.

She took an exaggerated step back. Oh well. She should feel blessed she doesn't have to stress about those sorts of issues.

My mom, bless her heart, went a little nuts when she learned about it. We didn't speak for a week. Opting instead to express our opinions in email. She was convinced I'd shoot myself or one of my kids. She had no interest in hearing that I know what I'm doing. I ended the conflict by explaining that I would respect her by not bringing it into her home, and she should respect my right to have it in the first place.

Before “dating” Bam I explained that I carry a gun, and that if he had a problem with it, he should let me know now. Though he said he was Okay with it, it turns out he wasn't. I told him politely to fuck off. Repeatedly.

A large guy once asked me, “Whats a little girl like you need such a big gun for?” My reply? “I think you just answered your own question.”

The judge wrote out in our custody and visitation order that my weapon should be secured with a trigger lock. And that my minor child should not be allowed to handle it unsupervised. That is so ridiculous that I can't even muster a response. I will say that I am not one of those parents who lets a 9 year old fire a gun.

The Glock is currently separated from it's clip. The two pieces are locked away in different locations. With all that's going on with DQ, I felt it best to take a break from carrying it. Her safety is more important than my feeling safe.

If Its Yellow Random Goodness

You know what an oxymoron is, right? Jumbo Shrimp..ha ha ha. Well I have a new one for you:

Loading your groceries, packed nicely in your reusable shopping bags, into the back of your new, shiny black Suburban. But hey, the leather seats and wood grain interior make it all worth it, right?

I came across this post http://imgonnakillhim.com/uncategorized/show-video/ and I am now demanding you all go check out this blog. The writer is actually a comedian. And we all know I could use a little funny in my life.

Every Single Morning, my roomie uses the entire tank of hot water. I think we all know what he's doing in there. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that his wife won't screw him.

Why in the hell do most of my matches on POF look like gang bangers and Yo boys? Seriously, you're 35 damn years old. Pull up your pants and fix your hat. Just because I have tattoos doesn't mean I'm a street thug. Hello.... tattoos are one of my interests because you should know what your in for BEFORE you message me.

Bam keeps messaging and emailing me. He hopes I'm working on my depression. It's really starting to get on my nerves. To this I say, I didn't allow myself to be all emo when we broke up, so I think I'm doing fine, thanks.

I had an entire weekend to myself. Itty Bit was with The Douche and DQ went to my moms. I did some laundry, delivered some G.S. Cookies and I slept for 10 hours Saturday night. I am such a party girl!

I get the “If it's yellow let it mellow...” way of thinking. You are going to save water, and thus the planet, by not flushing the toilet after you pee. Thank you for not doing the same when you take a crap. But for the love of God, could you maybe divert from this practice while I'm working in your house. Because there is no way in hell I am going to use your toilet while your urine/toilet paper is in the bowl. I am flushing your toilet before I pee, and then again after. 

If you want to play too, head over to Stacy Uncorked. She's the go to girl for RTT these days. 

Pound Of Flesh

I started a little adventure. To all the “not single” peeps out there, count your blessings. I opened a profile on POF.com. Hey! Don't judge, I'm lonely.

It took me about .03 seconds to get over Bam, Man child that he was. I am not one to lament a relationship that was never meant to be. He did show me that I like dating, and sharing my life with someone else. Who knew?

I'm not convinced online dating is where it's at, though. Still I am addicted to it. My phone constantly alerts me to new messages. The first couple of days were kind of insane. I'm not one to be distracted by such things while I'm at work. This leaves me anxious to get home and check my messages. I really should get over it, because most of whats in there is not good.

POF offers a chemistry and personality test to better match you to your soul mate. HA fuckin HA. This is who they think is my # 1?

Seriously? This guy?

All I can say is: You must be out yo motha fuckin mind!

I moved on down the list, mumbling, “No...no...no...Woof...no...Hell no! Oh, now he's cute.” Click on the profile to see he only wants a fuck buddy. NEXT!

I'm not above saying there must be some physical attraction. I don't want to spend the rest of my life thinking “Damn, you're ugly” about my mate. Also, why would you not put your best face forward in your profile picture. You've got the rednecks holding up guns or dead deer. And then there is the yo-boys throwing up gang signs. W.T.F?

Reading profiles is an exercise in laugh therapy most of the time. I do it anyway. Maybe it's my cynical side that lets me read between the lines.

“I'm very loyal.” I'll be stuck up your ass because I have no other friends.

“Not into drama or games.” My wife took me for everything I had.

“I'm very laid back.” I would prefer if you cook and clean while I sit on the couch watching TV.

“I think I have a great sense of humor.” I'll likely make fun of you when we hang out with my friends so they think I'm cool.

“looking for fun, easy going woman.” I'd like to get laid as soon as possible, so I'm hoping this happens quick.

Here are a few of my other favorites:

“No more probation for me.” This left me shaking my head.

“Prove to me your the one.” I'd rather show him how to spell “you're”.

“Lookin 4 a woman I can chill & get 2 know.” Really? I'm “lookin” for a man who doesn't use numbers in place of words. And you want to chill me? Are you a serial killer?

But the award goes to: Seeking 1950's Housewife

I’m asexual. I have mental issues with sex. I also have a physical condition that affects sex for me. Due to these three things it will take a very special and very caring type of woman to be with me and to be able to find happiness with me. I will explain it all if you care. Just don’t ask out of general curiosity and waste my time please. I will tell you this up front though. I can and do have sex. But if you like to be satisfied and enjoy sex, you wouldn’t be happy with a guy like me. If your old fashion, submissive, have issues with sex that makes you not enjoy it, etc. and want a man that is very loving, caring, and shows you in all the little ways how much he appreciates you… Then maybe you would be.

If your not old fashion and submissive like a 1950’s housewife, don’t bother replying. If you enjoy sex, don’t bother replying. I thought I was pretty clear in my profile before. But I still keep getting reply’s saying they are interested… But they aren’t old fashion, not submissive, and they enjoy sex. Well great… You’re the exact opposite of what I’m looking for. And you thought I’d be interested why? Please don’t waste both our times. I’m a very loving and caring man that stays home and treat his woman with all the love and affection they deserve. But I do know what I want, and what I need. And I’m not going to change.

Asexual… Doesn’t create the hormones or chemical release that most people release upon finishing so they don’t orgasm or enjoy sex like most people.

Old fashion… Look up 1950’s housewife “Good Housekeeping.”

Submissive… Religious cultures such as Penicostle, Mennonite, Amish
Asian cultures
1950’s type American woman

Doesn’t enjoy sex… Doesn’t moan, thrust, react, respond, participate, finish or release.
Proper woman, Lady like woman, Puritan woman.

I laughed so hard at this one, DQ asked me what was wrong.

Oh, nothing. Just read something really funny on the internet.

Hey Whatyerface

Things you'd say to people if you thought it would make a difference.

Dear Vitamin Water,

Putting the Fruit Punch flavor in the Mega pack of Vitamin Water I get from BJ's is NOT going to make it any more palatable to me. And seeing as I can't give this shit these bottles away, I think everyone else agrees.

Thank you.

The Triple X Junkie

Dear The Douche,

You didn't get anything for Itty Bit's birthday last year. Are you planning on a repeat this year? I'm pretty sure she's going to notice. And FYI, no, a new baby sister does NOT count!

Also, I appreciate your inability to pay your last 6 installments of child support. Really I do. Because I was so looking forward to applying for food stamps again. I missed people looking at me like I'm lazy white trash because I'm paying for our food with their tax dollars.

Regards,

Your Gun toting ex-wife

Dear Bam,

You asked me to communicate better with you, and I made an effort. When I broke down and showed you my raw emotions, bared my soul to you, showed weakness, you dropped me like a lead balloon. You showed me, I was right to keep these things to myself in the first place. So... thanks for that.

Love,

Happily Single Missy

Dear Free Will Baptist Church,

The “FWB” acronym on the back of your church van did not inspire very Christian thoughts at all. It did inspire me to laugh my ass off and then want to hook up with the neighborhood hottie, who I may or may not watch while he walks his dog.

Sincerely,

The Twisted drive behind you

Dear Self,

You're dealing with a lot right now. Kudos for not having a nervous breakdown. We think you need a vacation. You're not going to get one. We just wanted to point out that you deserve one.

Fond Regards,

Your other personalities.