Letters Unsent… But maybe they should be

I often struggle between my inner dialog and the one that goes through my lengthy filtering process. When friends ask for my opinion or advice, which happens way more often than I care to say, I often ask myself repeatedly ‘should I really give it??’ ‘do they really want it, or are they just asking so I will reassure them that their decision is perfect and I am their minion?’ ‘Don’t they know by now I’m gonna be honest??’ ‘Why the fuck are they asking me??’ Then I give a kindly worded, much pondered, answer that may not be what they wanted to hear. But oh well, you asked. However, there have been a few things since my last post that I haven’t addressed. Frankly, this shit is tiring. Buddha (or whoever writes cool quotes and says they are from Buddha- either way, I like it) said that carrying around anger (or resentment or frustration or unaddressed hurt- those mine) is like holding a burning coal in your hands and expecting the other person to get burned. Smart guy this Buddha. So I’m gonna drop some hot rocks. Prepare yourselves bitches…


Dearest Friend,

Please stop apologizing for the things that happened almost ten years ago. We both made mistakes and we both did stupid things. We let pride and ego and self come between us and now… We don’t. We’ve grown, we’ve changed, we’ve suffer losses without each other to wipe tears. We’ve had wins without each other to celebrate. We’ve seen the people that we drifted toward drift from us and we’ve made our way back to each other. Yes it’s different. No, we are not the inseparable pair we were then… But we wouldn’t have the amazing men in each of our lives. Now we are friends. Not just friends, but true friends. Friends with history and shared heartache and shared love and shared laughs and shared jokes that no one else understands. We can be three but cycle and the other one will always get it. So move forward, because we can’t finish the movie if we keep rewatching in the last scene.

I love you princess. More than my shoes… Even the ones I don’t wear anymore.  

Less than three.


Dear Friend (are we still?),

Thank you for finally articulating your feelings after simply dropping off my radar for three weeks. I really thought we had the kind of friendship where you could drop by and say ‘hey friend, we need to hash something out’, but I guess we don’t. To be honest, it wasn’t so much the content of what you said texted that hurt most, but that you couldn’t talk to me… That you still can’t talk to me. Don’t get me wrong, what you said affected me too… In a what the actual fuck? Am I really reading this right now? Noooo, really?? Kind of way. I have been the same person since well, always. I think what’s really changed is the message. You don’t like what you are hearing now. A few years ago the message was supportive, because that was my truth to you then. Now the message isn’t as supportive, it’s more questioning, more of a devils advocate. It’s still given with kindness and in my voice, but I am not towing your party line. I’m not sorry. I think you are making some horrible decisions. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the decisions you are making are good and I’m wrong. Or maybe I’m the enabler. Maybe these couple months without hangin out with me have been good. No one is helping you spend time self destructing. If it took my “hurting your feelings” to get you to pull your shit together then I’m not sorry, not that I was anyway. I don’t hold on to those coals. It doesn’t help anyone, least of all me.

I hope the last couple months have been really good for you. I hope the kids are well and if they ever want to come over for Mac n cheese and minions, I always have time for them. And when you are ready to have a conversation, with words… Through your mouth, I’ll be here. Same as always. Because unconditional is the only way I know how.



Fucking figure it out because we didn’t choose, you did. So fucking act like it. Act like you give a shit, because frankly, I don’t. Others do, but I don’t. And do you have any idea how much it takes for someone like me to stop caring??? Ask around, ask my friends, ask other people that know me, ask people on the street. It is known. But I am done and over it. The fucks are gone, the shits have done been given. The love that remains falls under the obligation category but the like… There is no requirement for like that in the handbook. I checked. For fuck sake. This isn’t even about me, it’s about them, the ones that still have something left to give.

I can’t even. Words are failing me and words are what I do. I just can’t.



You have put the knees on my bees. You are the grammar nazi to my writers journal. I have had best friends that are forever friends (you have met the princess) but you are somehow a part of me I didn’t know I needed. You give voice to things I can’t and help me rein in the compassion that seems to flow unimpeded when you aren’t around. At the same time, I think I lend a chisel to your edge and a filter to your outer voice that you may have been looking for… The chisel and filter that have been sitting there in their pretty boxes just waiting for their home. Plus, you get the parts of my favorites that I don’t, and you eat the centers of my cinnamon rolls and you smoke when you aren’t on fire giving me a chance to take a break when I need it. 

I love you too, more than my shoes… enough to let you borrow them and give them to you if you want them. Or find a better pair made by ALDO and send them to you as a gift.


Dear Country,

I knew some of you were not that bright. I knew some of you would believe anything the channel you watch most told you. I even knew some of you were such fucking sheep that you would listen to the loudest one in the room even if he was telling you that you were on fire, while you were wading in a swimming pool. I did not think enough of you were were so blind and ignorant that you would allow such an obvious piece of shit to leave his mark on your door. I did not think you would lay back and open your legs to what is obviously the smallest dick of them all, while he tells you how huge it is… And then tell him how huge his centimeter feels. Haven’t you had enough of this nonsense? Haven’t you felt sufficiently reemed? Must you allow this to continue so the rest of us have to endure your shame? Once again I find myself struggling to find words to properly describe the disgust I feel at the people I have to share citizenship with.

Wake the fuck up! You think we have issues with “terrorists” now? What the fuck do you think will happen if you right wing nut jobs succeed at putting this idiot in office? You know, the guy that has insulted every race, creed and culture I can think of. Do you think we’ll be fine? Do you think it will be okay, that his GIANT centimeter cock will protect you?? Think again motherfuckers… All the “terrorists” that hate each other may stop for a minute and get together to decide- hey, wait… We need to go show the giant, entitled, overinflated, American wack-job that he fucked with too many of us. You can fuck with the people that guy hates, or the guy over there, but not everyone, that’s just greed. Terrorists hate American greed. And who is a bigger poster boy for American greed than our Republi-cock candidate? NO ONE.

So sort yourselves out. This has gone way past funny to, again ridiculous.For fuck sake people.

For. Fuck. Sake.

I can’t even. Again the words are failing me and words are what I do. I just can’t.

So I will let someone else… (It’s not new… But it will work)

Words Words Words

When you sit and try to write to old friends after a really long time it’s a daunting task. And you are friends of a sort. I’ve shared my darkest moments and my triumphs with you and I’ve shared some of your darks and dawns as well. And we’ve all fallen off the radar at one time or another. Some of us because we had real life happening- we had adulting to do and adulting gets in the way every time. Some of us were opening new chapters in our lives, and that chapter didn’t include the space that was created here. Maybe it was a new space, maybe there was no space for “us” at all. That’s okay. Who am I to judge your lives? I hope you aren’t judging mine. I’ve sat at this keyboard (a totally different iteration than the little netbook at the beer bar of old) a good 25 times and tried to write a love letter or a holiday update or just a funny postcard and gotten no where.  It’s too late for a New Years update… That would be forced and awkward. A ketsup post would just drone on and on and insult you. Frankly I don’t think either of us wants that. So where do I start? What do I say to tell you I’ve missed you and I want you and I have things to say that you want to hear… 

Do I just launch into a tirade about the current political bullshit (and by bullshit I mean Trump, in case you forgot who I was) or do I talk about the retarded zealous parents who think they are making informed decisions by are not vaccinating their children (yes, this is still relevant)? Do I give in to the desire to throw verbal shitbags at the fucktards and their ridiculous over the top 2nd Amendment insanity? Do I go postal on the wing nuts that are literally shortening our collective lifespan as a species by plowing through acres and acres of rain forest a day? Hell not just our species but all the species! Or do I forget for a moment that human beings are completely fucked and talk about how awesome my life is. After several years in a hole of crazy coworkers (we are talkin batshit, not just “a bit off” but completely fucking nutter) and under appreciation, bad meds, weight gain and loss (let’s be real, mostly gain), and a lot of uncertainty to be sure… I am in a good place. I am more happy than sad, more loved than lost, more up than down. I think this has definitely caused some creative frustration. Let’s be real, wait… I hate that phrase… I’m calling myself out on using it because if I’m not being real what the fuck am I doing???? So let me restart that: It’s pretty clear from studies by actual doctors and observation of my own past practices (you miss me talkin out my ass.. admit it!!) that depression and trauma breed creativity. At least they do in my case. So I’ve been stunted. Add to that the fact that people I sometimes write about in a not so favorable way have figured out that I sometimes write about them… in a not so favorable way, and you have a constantly blank screen. 

So here I sit with words words words. After weeks of pondering how to start, fuck it. I am just going to. I’ll start with a short list of things that I’m pretty sure of. Some of them may be different than the last time I listed things and some may be the same, I’ll leave it to you to do the homework.

I’m pretty sure that…

… I love my nephew more every time I see him and I didn’t think that was possible

… As Aunt’s go, I am the best. 

… I didn’t realize how life changing It would be to have met my female soulmate, my yang, my forever friend

… for the first time in my life my ratio of friends tips more to the female than the male side

… I don’t know how I feel about that 

… Turning 40 has had more positives than negatives, especially the wine thing, I love the wine thing

… Beer is proof that Gus loves us and wants us to be happy

… adult coloring books have always been around, we just didn’t like crayons, so someone decided to sell one with colored pencils or markers and now… $$$$

… Uggs with a skirt is still not okay

… My job is kick ass and I am awesome at it… I may talk about that a lot more, as I’m trying to decide whether Bourbon or Vodka is better

… I can’t decide if I like Bourbon or Vodka better so I just bring both to the party… It’s one of the many Gemini perks

… Bacon still wins

… yep, still not okay

… Donald Trump is a fucking idiot 

… Pot should be legal. I don’t use it (smoke it, whatever) but I think it would help in so many ways

… Technology has made us retarded for real and shortened our attention- LOOK! A Squirrel!

… I love any kind of music except, poppy country, something that tells me to rape my sister (cringe) and fucking Nickelback. I will take Creed over Nickelback, maybe, shit. Can I stab my eardrums out?

… anyone that would vote for Donald Trump is a bigger fucking idiot

…. I have a lot to say about a lot of things and I will

… Clowns are creepy

… anyone that reads my posts and would vote for Trump should send me a very detailed email about why and expect a very expletive filled response about why those reasons are so not enough

… I should post this shit already so I can move on to the next topic

Letters, Therapy and Music to Heal the Soul

Sometimes its just like that… you start out writing a letter to a friends kid and it ends up being to you.. and your friend and her kid… and maybe a few other people you know. Hell maybe a lot of people need it. But mostly it was about my struggle with resentment toward my dad, my inability to get past some shit I fully blame on him.

My missive started as a note about how we, as children, like many of the most amazing things in science, are not only what we appear to be. We are an amalgamation of intricate detail. We are made up of so many things. Some good, some beautiful, some complex, some completely incomprehensible, some ugly, some insincere, some repulsive and some that want to admit is part of us. But all those tids and bits are what makes us who we are. And we as a whole are greater than than the individual bits that make us. What does this have to do with anything and why am I writing this to someone elses child? She doesn’t like her dad. (I don’t blame her, he is a piece of shit and I know a bit about dads that are pieces of shit). He isn’t a good person. She and her siblings struggle with the same self loathing I and my siblings struggle with because our whole is made up of some bad parts.

Fortunately we are not our parts. Without an arm, we are still human. But we are not the same human we were with that arm.  That specific arm, no matter its state, formed part of who we are. So I wouldn’t be who I am without the contribution of my dad, however bad I may think it, and my friends daughter wouldn’t be the amazing person she is without all her components either.

My last therapy session started with a song… My therapist was rather speachless for a bit then reminded me I dedn’t really need to see him. I have a penchant for self analysis. I know this, yet I can’t fix the resentment and anger. So we talked about the words and the song and the singer. I’ve written about Austin Lucas before and how his songs have helped me through other things in my life. At the time I played this and talked about it with the shrikydink I hadn’t come to the realization I did when writing this. Nothing he did, said, or didn’t do or say can make me who I am… but it contributes to my whole. I like the whole. It is rough and needs constant work to keep from becoming a bag of shitty parts.

Somebody Loves You

Easy there, old man
I’ll drop you where you stand
You wear wings of white but I smell your hellfire
Cause I know who you are, a racist and a coward
And all you’ve got to show for life is dust

Cause you lay roses on the ground
And turn lies to common wisdom
You’re a good man when it suits you
Yes I know

But whatever good you’ve done
Is dwarfed by mountains made of wrong
And your savior may forgive you but I won’t

Oh but somebody loves you
I guess they don’t know better
There’s a fool for every fool
And somebody loves you
Oh yeah somebody loves you
And how can it be true
There’s a fool for every fool
And somebody loves you

It was from you I learned some men cannot be trusted
And from you I learned some friends do not inspire
Cause you were like my brother
But you filled my heart with anger
And I’ll thank you when those lessons have helped at all

Oh your stories gave me life and they flowed through me like wine
But they were darkest pitch-black arrows to my soul
Yes I was your true believer now my bones do shake and shiver
With a poison that does rot me to the core

Oh but I did once love you
I guess I knew no better
Yes I was once that fool
And I did love you
Oh yes I did once love you
And how can it be true
That I was once that fool
And I did love you

And like some ghastly phantom voice, lifelong companion
Or a devil on left shoulder, lashing tongue
I spit crescents, spite filled language like some drunkard
To the heavens, when to hell he knows his spirit’s surely bound

Yes I lay roses on the ground and deceive you beyond wisdom
There’s a good man in the shadows, so I’m told
But whatever good I’ve done
Is dwarfed by mountains made of wrong
And that truth comes cold to blacken out the sun

Oh but somebody loves me
I guess they don’t know better
There’s a fool for every fool
And somebody loves me
Oh yeah somebody loves me
And how can it be true
That somebody loves me
Somebody loves you


Maybe I’m still resentful. Not as much as yesterday. And not nearly as much as when I last met with the shrinky dink. I still think this song speaks more about my relationship with my dad than I could ever write on my own, At least for now. But I’m working on that. 

And sometimes it’s just like that… you walk through a shadow and notice your own, and it isn’t as bad as you once thought it was. 


(a really good) holiday challenge

Is it just me or do the holidays start earlier and earlier every year? It seems to me that if Samhain has not yet passed, then stores should not be allowed to put up decorations for magic baby day.  If I haven’t even given thanks for the pilgrims giving smallpox to the indigenous peoples yet, then that shit ain’t right. Maybe if it were Fear’s Fuck Christmas, I wouldn’t be so offended.  But i’m not likely to hear that while picking up diabetes in a bag for the neighborhood ghouls.  Why don’t stations play a better selection of holiday shit? Why must they always go with ye olde golden christmas oldies a la bing? Why can’t we get some hard rock or punk or ska or Queen???

So faithful friends I present a challenge. Most specifically to my favorite diverse type music loving friends; DJ joshpsmsc; The Social Assasian, Mr Atomic, Miss “Jen” e sais quoi, Mr (I use that loosely) Jody Neil Ruth, Miss (morethana) ShoeWhoreTravisISivart and the original mini (t)hug Liz aka FloRich… Don’t be offended if you weren’t named by name. I love you none the less and will happily listen to your crap selections as well.

Make a list, or better yet, a youtube playlist of your favorite holiday tuneage. It can be traditional if that’s your bag but the angrier, the louder the harder…. the better!!  I expect a shitload of variety. A minimum of 5 songs would be appreciated but knock yourselves out… Go big. Give me a playlist that will make me the shame most awesome ever of my office when I “accidentally” play it at the company holiday party. 

In fact let’s make a contest out of it. I shall challenge myself as well and have mine up within a week. I know my friends don’t like to pass up a chance for free shit so here goes.

My favorite list/playlist will get a shiney gift wrapped goodie from me.  Sent directly to your door. Go forth, play music and be merry bitches!!!

posted from my tablet thingy

I’m smiling next to you…

Well, well, fancy meeting you here.  I know it’s me who’s been out of touch but I had a bunch of shit and you know there was that stuff with the ting and all that. You know how it goes. One day you have all this shit in your head to write about and the next day its two months later and where did all the time go? In my defense I’ve been training at work, planning baby showers, getting ready for vacation and you know… nursing the sick, giving hope to the desolate and leaping tall buildings in a single bound. It’s a tough job being me full time. There have been days when I have seriously wanted to trade with someone for a while. Just a couple days, nothing permanent and then something happens and I realize I have it easy. My life is wonderful. I am not sure how I stumbled into what I’ve got but I’m not going anywhere. That desire to switch lives dissolved in a moment when I remembered… I remembered I am treated with respect, like a person deserving of respect and spoken to in that same way. It is amazing how much that can change things. I realized that I am flawed, beautifully and unashamedly flawed, but I am me. I am not hiding behind a mask of insecurity pretending to be someone else… I have moments of crazy and moments of lucidity, moments of sheer joy and moments of despair, moments of wonder and impossible amazement at my fortune followed by selfish tantrums about what I don’t have that someone else does. But in all this, I am just me. More good than bad, more lucid than crazy, more joy, amazement and good fortune than not. I have friendship and laughter. I am loved and cared for. I am wanted. I am thankful.


posted from my tablet thingy

Tuesday Dare – For Liz: Time is On My Side

When your daughter tells you “you have no time management skills” with a disapproving tone. Then requires you to “write down everything yo do for the next three days” to discuss upon her return, you are a busted bitch. No, I have not suddenly spawned a precocious, intelligent teenager. But my friend Liz is having some issues with her time management skills. In an effort to help adults thwart the wrath (or is that condescention) of their own children before they are actually adults…

Liz, here is a little tutorial in the basic ways to keep shit from falling into the abyss of lost time.

1. First locate the smart phone I know you have glued to your body in some fashion – you know know, the rectangular thing that lights up and probably has sparkly covers to match your mood and/or outfit (I know my girl). It also doubles as a texting device, camera and thing to check facebook and twitter on…

2. Find the calendar. (picture that looks like a one day calendar that used to be on your teacher’s desk in high school – but with less hidden profanities written by Johnny Jock.) Tap to open. This is typically an app that is in the start-up section, as it comes with every smart phone. If by chance you have moved it…

3. You want this to sync with you normal gmail account… NOT your public email account, lest someone decide you are inappropriately texting her mother and decide to hack your calendar and find out where the hubby is taking your for dinner. No Bueno. You do this by “managing accounts”. Believe it or not, your phone is smarter than me and will walk you through the steps to sync up.

4. This is important… settings. This is where you tell your calendar you are retarded and need it to tell you when to get ready to go places and what to do. I am going to suggest doing this at ye ol computer. It doesn’t matter whether you have a pc or mac, it is the same… in your settings you can tell your calendar (I like to talk to mine when I set things up, makes me feel better) I bow to your greatness and trust you to tell me when to be places…

Now put in your appointments and chello! They will magically appear on your phone. And each appointment lets you decide if you want one, two or ten reminders and if you want them by email text or pop-up on your computer. Those Google peeps are the SHIT! So now you can block out the Wednesday massage, and Tuesday husband makes dinner night and Thursday Daughter brings me tea and tells me how I’m the bomb diggity (see I’m respectful, I didn’t even say shit-diggity) time. You can even invite them via email so they get annoying reminders that they must take care of your every need. And if you really can’t figure it out with my amazeballs directions…. Google tells you how and so does Apple, because those people get paid the big money for a reason!

Now when you have a handle on all this big pimpin shiz, hit up me and Mrs Clark with an appointment invitation from your sparkly phone, that’s glued to your hand that you’ll be bringin vodka and expect good fixins on my table. (Give me warning so the smart one can clean the house… indeed)

For the rest of us.. my calendar says it almost the time to celebrate, Samhainn, all Hallows and the changing of the time. I have no fucking clue what a costume is and the days are closing in… I feel a panic attack coming.

posted from my tablet thingy

more badass than Jules

I  have the most random song in my head… I guess it’s my theme today.

“sometimes…. sometimes, bad is bad.
I stay cool as a rule, but sometimes bad is bad.”

Why fucking Huey Lewis???

I have this friend, I usually refer to her as half my OREO because standing next to her I glow in the dark. Add our MP friend and I become the center in the OREO. I’m the ass white bitch between two women who have no idea what SPF means and are determined to blend if they accidentally wake up in the congo.


see… I am ass white!

My friend sin is a total badass. She is that chick you want on your team when the zombie apocalypse comes. She will be all Tallahassee and shit and you will be standing behind her like the little bitch you are. She is a 46 year old gilf with the body of a 35 year old. Her work out regimen makes douchecanoe-frat boys bow and worship at her feet… and not just to get a better look at her DD’s, they want her secret. They want to know how she does it. Ya know what little man, it’s attitude. She just loves life. She has been dealt the worst possible hand so many times but she ended up with chips left on the the table because she is a badass. Sin works everyday with the worst humanity has to offer yet she reflects the best humanity can give.

well….. she did. Friday was her last day here. She didn’t know it and I think she’d have wanted it that way. She wouldn’t have wanted to sit around wasting time waiting for that stupid bitch to bring her a door…. She’d have hopped on her Harley and gone balls out until the sunset.

Sin had a philosiphy:

” Fear less, hope more; Whine less, breathe more; Talk less, say more; Hate less, love more; And all good things are yours.

…I’m a mother, a daughter, a sister, a grandmother, a girlfriend, a friend, a mentor a leader a local and someone everyone I know can look up too. I am proud, I am strong, I love hard and loose with dignity. I am a challenger and a supporter. I do what I believe in and I do it better than anyone else. I am here for anyone and everyone. I help those that can’t help themselves and I do it cause I can.”

This song just makes me think of her.. She loved country and dancing and country. And I can fully see her doing this.



Sin was a badass and she rocked my world. Sometimes it’s just like that, you stay cool as a rule, but when your girl is a badass, well…

posted from my tablet thingy

Ich Liebe Diche Auch


*wipes nose with Kleenex (with lotion, duh)*

Since being put in the Assassin’s cross hairs it’s been a challenge to catch my breath. His many kindnesses have had me swooning (not to fear Mrs., just in ways that mean my ego needs to have a pin or two taken to it at strategic places). He hath bestowed upon me an Academy Liebster Award! In keeping with his format I offer the following blommit (thanks to whoever said that, I’ve stolen it and I love it, yay!) rather than the lengthy acceptance speech which I had been penning. It brought to light the many causes near and dear and of course thanked the magic baby, whom I have no idea why I was thanking but that’s what one does when accepting awards right? And hell If I’m gonna thank him I may as well thank the evil torcheress from the chamber of doom-wax… but neither of them shall be thanked.  Just you Assassin of all things socially inept, thwarter of skanks from continents away, protector of lady bloggesses and their right to bash on whomever they choose and desire to beat ex-abusers to a bloody pulp with whatever means feels right at the time! Killer of baby seals! (okay maybe not that last one but you know how you get going sometimes…) All the while being a loving husband and rockin, fire-breathin father, not to mention an amazing chef… all wrapped in a 6 foot 8 inch tall package of hot man. Sounds fantastic to me.

So I shall crumple my speech, throw it at those less fortunate and go “off the cuff”. Settle in, this may take a few. First and foremost, thank you Mrs Assassin, for encouraging your husband in his passion and being understanding of the time and boobalicious photo browsing it requires. Having a partner who realizes that writing, a true calling to write, is not a fad but part of our being, is the best gift this universe can bestow. You fucking rule Mrs.

And now you (don’t cower in the corner over there… you’re a foot and a half above the chair anyhow!) Get your ass over here for some lovin’. Mr. Assassin… or Kevin if I may, Ich liebe dich auch. Du nahmst meine Herausforderung und bestanden. Andere konnte es nicht. Sie sind die besten. (that’s right bitches… Deutsch. ha! and Shane, if its wrong – sue the interwebs*) But really, how could I not!!! Even if you hadn’t offered to make me eggs bennie, thus winning my heart for all time…You gave me 35 songs… with videos. Shit Son! I only asked for songs… Not videos. It was brilliant and challenged me to look up music I hadn’t heard for a long time and some of it never. It was nothing short of awesome. But even that is not why I stick around and read your blog. You are funny as shit, but not always gufaw funny, you are witty, intelligent, challenging to my brain. You give me pause to think about things from a perspective I may not have, and I like that. Plus you are fucking tall and well I loves me some tall lean man, especially one that loves music and cooking.  But not to fear Mrs., I have my own tall lean man (serious… 6’7″, loves music and cooks… its like bizaro blog) on my side of the planet so she and I can get together and dish about tall men and all the awesome that you are. Thank you for the support, love and leaving a cute little heart on my twitter feed. How decidedly un-punk rock of you.

Now that all the squishy shit is over, on to the liebing and award bestowing…

When I first started writing it really was just for myself. I had one reader (my best friend) and that was fine. Then it turned out that there was this “feed” thing people who were familiar with the interwebs used and I really had more like one-hundred readers. Holy shit-balls, who knew!!! so on and on and here I am 6 or 7 years of wirting. You know I still don’t have all that many readers (I don’t have N.F *wink* to tweet me and give me global recognition. But I digress as this is not about me. Back when I had no readers I was shocked one day to get a comment from someone I didn’t know. It was mind boggling! And now I’m feeling global love and getting a chance to say thanks to people who I enjoy the hell out of that you (my bloggity fam) may not know.

1. Why not start with the serious shit right?? When I stumbled on this ol’dog (whoever gave her that moniker should be put down, she’s fucking gorgeous!!! and um not old) with her sexy ta-ta’s, I couldn’t help but read. Too young to live through the shit she has, but fortunate to be surrounded by family, friends and a world wide network of people who genuinely wish her hope, love and healing. With all the cards she’s been dealt, she has a very funny take on her situation and whether you are down or not go see what’s up at Old Dog New Tits and you’ll be glad you did.

2. Several years ago I was trolling through images and one caught my eye. No I did not pirate it, but I did find out where it was from and where I could see more. And more I did. He doesn’t know I lieb him and it’s not stalkerish, but I’ve followed Mike’s journey from Utah and a tiny little paper to his new place in Berlin. Go check out whatever Π is up today. Then troll through the backlog. Several hours later you’ll be amazed and the clock will be well past where you thought it should be.

3. I love women. No I am neither lesbian, nor bi-sexual (get your mind out of the porn) but I think women are amazing. Strong, resiliant, tender, ferocious, frail, perplexing and extraordinary. For all these reasons and more, I love Brooke Farmer. I love her brash wit and bitter tears. I love her honesty about her struggles with life, love, and everything in between. I love her heart.

4. Sometimes a good story can be all you need to get cozy on a cold day. Sometimes you are sucked in by someones respectful tale of age and dignity where another author may leave none. Sometimes they aren’t stories but tales of true life adventure or non-adventure. When I read Siren Voices I sometimes laugh at the humour (see got British for ya there) or cry for the humanity shown by people just doing their jobs. Sometimes I can’t read because my eyes hurt and my heart and soul hurt too. But I go back always to listen to Siren Voices. I try to think of what Spence may sound like telling his stories. (thanks to his yule blog I now hear Kevin and well that’s as close as I’ll likely get). But I also try to hear their voices, those of the others that he comes to meet each day. And that is probably the point.

5. Last and certainly not least or he would have been first is Steve. Oh Steve.. You have aptly named your blog but I love, love, love reading it. It is my pleasure and I savor it for the times I need to laugh or cringe – I’m not sure which. Some of your photographs make me wonder but then again, they could only come From the Mind of a Madman.

There you have it… Now I’m tired from all the squishing….

*(I love you too. You took my challenge and passed. Others could not. You are the best.)

~posted from my tablet thingy~


I have said many times in the past and will hold it to be true until I have no breath, word are the most powerful thing we possess. They have the power to hurt or heal. Words can leave scars that tear over and over, or they can serve as a reminder of where you have been and how strong you’ve become. Words are a gift.

Words in the form of poetry can mean something different to each person that reads it. The author may mean one thing and it may touch you in a different way. That is the beauty of words. This was a gift to me when I needed to hear it. I share it because my friend needs to hear the words and receive the gift she chooses to take just as I did.

Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
~Mary Oliver


One other thing…  happy birthday… today you have permission to be just a shoe whore. : )


rainbows and bacon bitches

Well, well…. it is Conversational Monday over at Becca’s little house of snark. I’ve never been very good at remembering actual things we said and I am not a fan of quoting what wasn’t said. However.. this one was captured on my IM because I forgot to update my settings. I’m not gonna lie and say I’m sad this time.

So I had a convo with a good friend I haven’t seen in a while. He is very quick witted (which is why you get no time stamps for my responses!) and all over the map. He is the co-founder of the Tri-Fecta of gus (more on that later). It’s got bacon, zombies, work, and more… It made me happy.

I would apologize for the length but fuck that, its my blog and I’ll post what I want…

Sars! howdy fine sir!!
Zimm Hola!
Sars! miss you and wifey’s faces! If you guys can’t make it Saturday we should plan a Pub date…
Zimm I’m heading out of town for a work conference and have to pick up the company owner so I probably won’t make it. But a Pub visit is always welcome : )
Sars! For sure! Maybe next week for hang time?
Zimm I will be back home Thursday. On a yummy note I have a Belgian Golden Strong* that should be ready soon.
*this is beer for those not aware
Sars! Um.., maybe I can make dinner and er, um you can um provide an adult beverage or something…. perhaps
Sars! : D
Zimm I’m  not above bringing beer to the Pub. I just make sure the Pub-stress gets some. And, I also have a nice *Class V clone from Kern River Brewing.
*again beer… hope you are getting the theme
Sars! sweet! But I was actually thinking come over and have dinner at the house… The Man does enjoy cooking and he is pretty good, not gonna lie. He really enjoyed talking to you at my party. He rarely says that kind of thing.
Zimm Cool, It is nice to have someone you can have an intelligent conversation with on a wide variety of topics. I just need to coordinate with the schedule keeper so I’m not double booking.
Sars! Whenever y’all can I would love it!! And he is a bit on the intelligent side (but he’ll never admit to it).
Zimm Stealth is always a good policy…. the way of the Ninja!
Sars! indeed… I may not look like much but I’m a pro at pretending to be a ninja.
Zimm The not looking like it is the master skill level.
Sars! that’s what I think! The trick is to wear clothes that aren’t restrictive… then if you need to flip in the air and boot someone to the head… DONE!
Zimm So you are also a student of ti quan leap. Not many learn so much so soon.
Sars! I study hard and train with masters…. I pay attention.
Sars! He’s an expensive sen-sa
Zimm But I take it he comes with benefits ; )
Sars! I am never aloud to discuss these things… He does not like it, it is not the ninja’s way… but yeah.. it’s pretty freakin awesome. He cooks, he cleans, he scrubs floors!
Zimm He is a man of many skills, I am not surprised.
Sars! He only takes one concubine, errr student at I time…
Zimm The better to hone your skills.
Sars! indeed, like a sword. It’s good stuff. ; )
Zimm All sorts of inappropriate sword comments are floating through my head and making it hard to concentrate on my work.
Sars! hehe, that’s why I left that there and did not proceed. I could have gotten gross!
Zimm I like the Hitchcock method plant some seeds and let the other persons imagination run with it. The results are usually spectacular.
Sars! indeed.. I’m learning these things. Although my writers block is really becoming a pain
Zimm Have The Man pick you up by the feet and swing you around until stuff comes out. Then sort through it and look for the gems.
Sars! that’s one way of doing it.. or we’ll be sorting through my lunch and I’ll be blacked out and remember nothing at all. Maybe I could lay on the bed and tap one side and see what comes out the other… sift through the ashes, because this job is killing me for real!
Zimm I have found if I leave my soul at home they can’t suck it out of me when I get to work.
Sars! bahahaha
Sars! I think I need to try that!
Zimm It is the only way I have survived this place for almost 10 years. Then you and your soul have something to talk about when you get home. Just don’t leave a credit card and the internet on or you will get weird things in the mail.
Sars! That is brilliant! Now I know why I got an angry birds keychain, a copy of the snuggiesutra and a pair of diabetic socks from amazon. The little bastard. I think it may need a kennel.
Zimm Make sure to put a toy in there or it will chew the bars.
Sars! cong with pb
Zimm good choice nutrition and entertainment!
Sars! He (I think my soul is masculine – kinda like a car) needs to be powered up. The weekend is coming
Zimm Go stand in the sun, it is kind of like solar panels.
Sars! Will I make the windows or mac powering up sound when I’m at full power?
Sars! Kinda like Wall-E, I need to know what to expect.
Zimm If all goes well sunshine will shoot out of your belly button at half power and your ears at full power.
Sars! But will rainbows shoot out my ass?
Sars! That would be entertaining, and make up for the shitty work week all at once
Zimm Only if you forget to clench.
Sars! Well sometimes, even a proper girl such as myself needs to er let loose?
Sars! you know… rainbows and kittens bitches…
Zimm Just clear your path before you do to prevent harm to innocent bystanders. Unless there are vampires then fire away.
Sars! Is this something new? Do ass rainbows kill vampires?
Zimm Concentrated UV light, the vampire council has been trying to suppress this info for years.
Zimm It will also repel the Goth, way too much happy.
Sars! hhhmmm, I must investigate. If ass rainbows repel goth and kill vampires, what will it take to kill zombies? This could be the answer to the apocalypse! Unless I have to swallow real bullets… That shit ain’t happenin
Zimm Not sure it might buy you time or backfire (pun intended) and draw them to you. Only test in a controlled environment. Even cute zombies will eat your brain.
Sars! yeah… I think I’ll let people far more badass than myself test that out.
Sars! And I think people with wet-brain may be good candidates
Zimm Just follow the rules from zombie land and you will be OK.
Sars! I fully intend to.. Witchita would never have gotten my gun with her little scheme.
Zimm Is wet-brain what happens when you try to scrub memories from you brain and forget to towel dry? Never put your brain in the dryer, it will shrink.
Sars! nope… it’s when you drink non-stop for umpteen or more years and have no idea what’s goin on… I’m wondering if  Zombies will even eat those brains?
Zimm Only the ones that were alcoholics before they turned.
Sars! that’s what I was thinkin.
Zimm No one is safe from the zombie apocalypse!
Sars! I was tryin…
Sars! Maybe disguise? Skin suit ala buffalo bill?
Zimm I think that is just like wrapping yourself in Bacon. It just makes you yummy.
Sars! bahahahahaahah
Sars! I always say everything is better with butter bacon or beer!
Zimm Off to play in the bushes, beware the zombies!
Sars! beware of rainbows…