#first parking services tells me to go fuck myself

[rotpunks]

i am going to start biting motherfuckers

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[lanadelnegan]

Wildest Dreams

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Song inspo: Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

Summary: Y/n's celebrity crush, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, makes her dreams come true when she meets him at a bar after the walking dead comic con.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, *Jeffrey is single*, plot, smut, sexual tension, cursing, sex, oral, daddy-kink

This is my first attempt at fanfiction ever, ahhh! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

This can't be happening right now. I can't believe he's actually right there. I'm about to touch him.

"Well hello there." Jeffrey's smile widens as I approach his open arms. "What's your name, darlin'?"

"Y/n...Hi" I smile and let him wrap his arms around me.

"That is a beautiful name, y/n. You ready?"

"Yeah, but can we pose a different way though.. maybe looking at each other?" I ask, hoping he can't hear the nervousness in my voice.

"Absolutely, doll." He turns his body facing mine and gently places his fingers around my jawline, looking directly into my eyes and lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "Relax." His tone is soft but demanding.

The photographer counts to 3 but it feels like 10 because Jeffrey's hazel brown eyes are burning flames into mine. I swear this man is staring into my soul as if he can read every thought I've ever had about him. Including that one, because the left side of his mouth suddenly raises and he lets out a "negan-like" chuckle that only the two of us can hear.

I'm the first one to break away from our embrace and I can feel my cheeks redden as I take another glance at him. I make a mental note to never forget what he looks like in person and let my stare linger a little too long on his chest hair peeking out from his white t-shirt. His smirk grows wider and he leans down, putting his mouth next to my ear. "You... are adorable."

When he leans away, the smell of tobacco, leather, and sweet mint fills my lungs.

Even now as I sit in my car, his scent is burned into my nose and the front of my shirt.. I'll never wash it again. My eyes close and my head falls back against my driver's seat.

The rest of my evening is spent binge watching The Walking Dead -season 7 of course - and ordering too much room service. I should go out. I drove 3 hours to Austin, TX.. by myself, which is a big deal for me. I should at least explore the city while I'm here.

I shower and throw on some jean shorts and a cute top, pretending I'm not bothered by the fact that I just washed any trace of my parasocial boyfriend off of me. At least I have this. I hold the picture we took and study it for the 48th time today.

After google searching "nightlife in Austin", Sixth Street seems to be where it's at, so I head that way and although it's only 7 minutes away from my hotel, it takes me 30 to find parking. I have no clue where exactly I'm going or what I'm doing, but hell - I met Jeffrey Dean Morgan earlier. If I could do that, I could do anything. I apply some lip gloss and tell my anxiety to go fuck itself before climbing out of the car.

Bright neon signs from every building light up the street and I smile to myself at the couples holding hands walking past me. I browse around at my options for drinks - not food - because I destroyed $70 worth of room service earlier - and make out the faint sound of Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift coming from one of the pubs up ahead as if it's calling my name. "Shakespeare's." the old sign reads, and I know that's the one. I make my way into the mildly crowded pub, find a seat at the end of the bar, and don't waste any time ordering a drink.

I bring up the picture of Jeffrey and me on my phone and study it.. for the 49th time today. I'm lost in my thoughts when a deep voice fills my ear. "Shit. That is one handsome dude." He takes a seat next to me and orders himself a drink while I stare at him wide-eyed and unable to speak. Oh.. my god.

Jeffrey orders his drink and turns his body towards me slightly with that signature grin on his stupidly handsome face. He breaks the silence since my lips seem to be paralyzed at the moment.

"Tell me what you're thinking, y/n." ... he remembered my name.

"I'm thinking that there is no way this is real life right now." I grin and look around, trying to mentally focus on suppressing the redness in my cheeks.

He laughs as the bartender places his drink down. "Want me to pinch you?"

"You can do whatever you want to me." I say under my breath as I sip my drink, surprised by my liquid courage. If he heard me, he ignores it and I internally cringe at myself.

"Cheers, darlin'." We tap our drinks and I throw my head back to finish mine completely. I sense his gaze on me and turn to face him completely. "So.. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" He fires back.

"Apparently having a drink with my celebrity crush." I laugh and cringe again. I need to stop.

"Crush? Me?" sarcasm drips from his smirk as he sips on his whiskey. "Would have never guessed.. not with the way you were blushing like hell during our picture."

My mouth drops open. "I was not!"

"No? Lemme see then." He nods towards my phone in my lap.

I pause hesitantly before handing him my phone and unlocking it for him. Bad idea. Instead of looking at our picture, he clicks on the camera button and turns it to selfie mode. He raises my phone in front of us and leans into me. I'm caught off guard but quickly lean into him, our faces touching and I smile as cool, calm, and collected as I can be in this moment.

He snaps a couple pictures of us and looks at them. "We are fucking cute as shit." He shows me and I laugh.

He pulls some glasses out of his jacket pocket and slides them on his face while holding my phone. I watch him in awe as he takes it upon himself to browse through my phone. My heart drops when he goes to the home screen and sees himself as my wallpaper with cute little hearts and cherries surrounding him. Fuck.

I wait for his reaction but it doesn't faze him. And if it does, he says nothing. He stares at the screen a little longer then finally glances at me with a smirk before turning his attention back to my phone. His thumb presses the tiktok icon and I watch curiously. He's not seriously about to suggest we make a tiktok together. Ick.

Worse. Instead, he clicks on my favorites and multiple squares of his face pop up - edits of him. I almost reach for my phone, but part of me likes that he sees it. What is wrong with me.

He looks at me and raises his brow. For the first time all night, I don't blush when he looks at me and it seems to amuse him because he chuckles and looks back at my phone. He clicks on one of the edits and watches himself on top of another woman kissing her passionately. I watch it with him unashamedly. Before it ends, he suddenly clicks my screen off and hands me my phone back.

"Why did you save that?" he asks with a serious tone.

"Uh, I jus - I liked it." I shrug.

"You like watching me make love to women?"

I laugh to myself. "Uhhh. Yeah, I guess so."

He pauses and stares at me, this time with a serious expression. "Do you wish it was you?"

My eyes widen and I open my mouth to answer but no words come out.

He stands and puts his jacket on. Oh great, I scared him. Good job y/n.

"Let's go." He throws a $100 on the bar and motions for me to stand up too.

I'm obviously not going to question this man. If he tells me to bark, I'll bark. I almost faint when I feel his big palm firmly placed right above my backside as we're leaving.

We exit the bar with our heads down as we quickly walk to his car. He opens the passenger side and I get in, waiting for him to appear on the other side. Leather, mint, and tobacco fill my lungs and I'm gone once again.

I'm so lost in my head that I don't even notice that he's already in the driver's seat. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Don't ask me that. I don't even know anymore." My answer amuses him and he drives a few blocks away to one of the "rich" hotels. The entire ride over is awkward silence with the exception of Jeffrey blowing puffs of cigarette smoke towards the crack in his window every few moments.

"Y/n." He puts the car in park and turns towards me while flicking his cigarette out the window and rolling it up. "At any point tonight if you want to leave or.. you.. want me to stop, I need you to tell me, okay?"

I look at him and his face is the most serious I've seen it all day.

"Okay." I whisper.

"Come here." Is all he says before I'm leaned towards him over the middle console and so close to his face that our noses are touching. I wait for him to make the move but he doesn't. He looks down at my lips and sighs. "Fuck. I'm not going to kiss you."

I back away a little, feeling embarrassed before he continues explaining. He brings me back closer to him and his hand caresses my cheek. "I need you to understand that tonight is a one time thing, y/n. You.. you can't catch anymore feelings for me than you already have, okay? I'm going to make you feel good, but I'm not going to break your heart in the process."

The smell of his minty cigarette breath tempts me and I have to mentally restrain myself from not crashing into this man's lips. But I just nod instead.

"Good girl." Is all he says before he gets out of the car and comes around to open my door.

The way up to his room is quick and discreet. It's 11pm so we only pass two people on the way up and they didn't seem to recognize him. Even his hotel room is already filled with his signature scent, minus the tobacco.

"Would you like to stay the night with me, y/n?"

"Um, obviously. Are you kidding? ..Yes, I'd love to." I laugh and look around his room.

The lights are off, but the room is bright enough with the city lights shining through the windows. I fall into the bed dramatically on the side closest to the window.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower. Make yourself comfortable, okay?" he grins before closing the bathroom door. I stare back at the closed door and imagine what he looks like getting undressed behind it.

I glance around the large room and notice his phone sitting on the nightstand next to "his side" of the bed. He went through mine.. so it's only fair if I -

I reach over and grab his phone. 042266. I type in his birthdate and the phone locks. I laugh to myself. Too easy, old man.

There's a recent text message from.. my number? I click it and the picture he took of us at the bar pops up. And another one - our picture we took at comic con. He sent them to himself.

I don't want to intrude on his personal business too much, so instead I open his camera and take some goofy selfies. The bathroom door opens while I'm mid tongue out. He stops and stares at me as I slowly set his phone down on the bed. I shrug at him and he shakes his head a little and laughs. He appears in nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. I turn my gaze away before I get carried away and my eyes get permanently glued to his torso.

"It's okay, y/n. You can look at me. In fact, I want you to."

I look back at him and don't even bother hiding how hard I'm checking him out now. I observe every hair on his chest and my eyes travel south until I'm imagining what he looks like under the towel. A lucky water drop runs down his flat stomach and disappears and I'm hoping the drool I just felt run down my chin was just my imagination. He walks slowly over to my side of the bed and stands next to me.

"You ready to find out what my cock looks like, y/n?"

If I was drinking water right now, I would have just spit it out all over him. I nod and he drops the towel. His cock springs free and I stare at it in awe. He's about 7-8 inches of thick perfection and I've never seen something so hot in my life. He looks down at himself, a proud smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me one of your fantasies, y/n. We're not doing anything tonight that you haven't already thought about."

"I - well, one of them is.. putting it in my mouth." I look up at him innocently.

"What are you waiting for, then?"

I get up and push him gently for him to sit on the bed, then get on my knees in between his legs. If I weren't still buzzing from the drinks earlier, there is no way I'd have the confidence to do this.

He leans back slightly with his hands on either side of him on the bed and looks down at me through lust filled hazel eyes.

"It's all yours baby." He smiles and tucks his bottom lip under his teeth.

I slowly take him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him - like man and fresh leather soap. I groan around him as I take him further and the growl that escapes his throat encourages me to take him as far in the back of my throat as I can.

"Fuuuck baby." His deep voice strains and I watch as his head fall back with pleasure. I continue steadily sucking him and stroking where my throat won't reach. His moans grow louder with each time he hits the back of my throat.

He suddenly thrusts his hips up slightly, causing me to gag and jolt back a little.

"Goddamn it, y/n. You are not making me cum yet." He hanks my hair back and his cock pops out of my mouth and stands strong against his stomach. It's big and wet and throbbing, and my legs clench together and the sight of him.

I stand up and take my shirt off, then my bra. Then slowly slide my shorts and panties down while facing away from him. A satisfied moan escapes his lips and he wastes no time grabbing me and throwing me on the bed. He positions me until my head is on the bed and my ass in the air before I feel his cock press against my soaked pussy from behind. He rubs himself against my wet slit until I'm whimpering and begging him to put it in me.

"Beg for me, baby." He slaps my ass and the sensation causes me to jump a little.

"Please, Jeffrey. I need you. Please."

"Baby, now I know that's not what you call me in your fantasies, is it?" Another slap to my bare ass makes me yelp.

"Daddy.. please!"

His dark chuckle fills the room and every one of my senses is on fire. His scent, his voice, his dick all surround me until I'm crying and pleading for this man to ruin me. "Please daddy, I need you. Please."

"Sorry, princess. I'm taking my time with you." He flips me over suddenly until I'm laying flat on my back. His knees push mine apart, signaling me to spread open for him until he positions himself above me. He leans over me until our faces are inches apart.

My hands roam over his lean body and scratch his back lightly as his lips travel down my neck. His hard cock slides back and forth between my slit and it feels too good every time it brushes my sensitive clit.

"Goddamn, you are soaking my fucking cock and I haven't even put it inside you yet, baby." he groans and bites my nipple gently before taking it into his mouth and sucking so hard it hurts.

He finally leans up, sitting on his knees, and positions his cock right at my entrance.

"Was I or gentle or rough in your fantasies?" He rubs the head against my clit before sliding it back down. My pussy is weeping for him at this point.

"Rough.. please." I choke out.

"Please.. what?" He growls.

"Please daddy!"

He chuckles. "You want it rough baby?" I nod and a tear runs down my cheek at how bad I need him.

"Be careful what you ask for." In one motion, he enters me fully, causing me to scream out at the sudden sensation. My body feels like it was just completely ripped in half, and I wouldn't want it any other way so I cry out for him to do it again. He smirks before pulling out all the way and ramming himself back in.

He starts thrusting at a steady pace and I concentrate on the way his balls feel slapping against me.

Even more tears fall from my face from the extreme emotions he's making me feel. Horny, desperate, obsessed, in.. love.

Fuck.

"Baby. Why are you crying?" He slows his pace and leans over me, assessing my eyes.

"I - I don't know. I - I just.."

"You want me to stop?" his voice is filled with lust and concern.

"No! .. No, don't stop. I just.."

I love you.

"I want it slower." I lie.

"Y/n.. I know you better than that already." He says gently as he thrusts into me deep and agonizingly slow. His lips brush over my ear. "Tell me, baby." He kisses my neck before grabbing my jaw firmly and looking for answers in my eyes. "Tell me, y/n, or I'm stopping."

I close my eyes and blurt out before I can stop myself. "I - I think I love you."

Jeffrey's expression falls serious and he looks back and forth between my eyes while slowly releasing my jaw. His head drops and his eyes close as if he just got slapped, but he continues fucking me.

"Goddamn it, y/n... I told you.. I told you not to catch feelings."

I just stare at him and cry. "I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes again tightly as if contemplating what he should do next. Before I can say anything else, his lips crash against mine. I kiss him back passionately and his tongue slips into my mouth. He picks up the pace with our kiss and his hips and I moan into his mouth.

"Fuck, baby. What am I gonna do with you?" his breathing grows faster and heavier with mine.

"Jeffrey.. fuck, I'm - I'm."

"Cum for me, baby." He growls and quickens his thrusts again.

I scream out for him and he moans into my neck.

"Jeffrey.. you know what else I fantasize about?" I ask him while trying to catch my breath.

"What's that, baby?" His balls slap against me over and over and over.

"What you taste like when you cum."

He lifts his head to look at me and paints a devilish grin across his face. "Yeah? You want me to cum in that pretty mouth, baby?"

I nod without question. I've dreamt about what this man tastes like for so long. If this is our one and only night together, I need to know.

"Fuck." He pulls out of me and leans back on his knees, bringing my head with him as his fingers tightly grip my hair.

"You ready, baby? Open up." His voice is deep and hoarse as he moans out and I swear I've never heard a man sound as sexy as he does right now.

His warm, salty cum fills my throat and I greedily swallow every drop of him, licking his tip until he's completely drained.

"Holyyy shit. Look at my dirty girl." He grins down at me and strokes my hair like he's proud.

He drops down in the bed and holds his arm out for me to lay next to him. I lay my head on his chest and listen to his rapid heart beat. A few minutes pass and I'm hoping he forgot about my little comment earlier. Well - big comment. I can't believe I told him I love him. I mean, I do love him and I think I have for awhile now, but why did I have to be a psycho and tell him that.

He finally breaks the silence. "Y/n.. We have to talk about it."

I sigh. Here it goes. "I know.. listen.. I didn't mean it. Obviously, I barely know you. I was caught up in the moment and I was just.. emotional. I promise I'm - I'm not crazy. I know this is a one time thing and I'm okay with that."

"Hmph." I feel his chest rise a little and he sighs. I lift my head up to look at him and he smiles wide at me before kissing my lips.

"That's too bad y/n.. Cause I was thinking we could do this again tomorrow."

The End.

If you read this, thank you so much. This is my first time writing fanfiction, so pls be nice. If you hate it, I'll cry. :') Xo,kb.

[official-magnus-institute]

hey Jon can we have that book recommendation I’m curious

STATEMENT OF DONNA RHETTE, REGARDING 'THIS FUCKING BOOK'- VERBATIM FROM TEXT. STATEMENT TAKEN FROM REVIEW LEFT ON www.lionstreetbooks.com/i-spy-housewarming/K-6482749278.html

(tw: stalking, scopophobia, loss of child, arson)

STATEMENT BEGINS.

@_Donnarhette

★☆☆☆☆

do not purchase this book do not buy anything off this website theyre stealing your information. this website is unreliable and customer service does not respond they do not pick up their phones.

i bought this book for my 5 year old daughter. she kept waking me up in the middle of the night for weeks beforehand. it was normal, kids do that, kids are scared of monsters. but i would always read her i spy. we have every other edition, down to the miniature versions and the seasonal ones. eventually, she learned where everything was, though, and the books got boring, so i looked up 'i spy books' for the 80th time this month. it brought me here, and i purchased the book for shipping.

the very next day it was brought here, and i was astonished at first, but once i saw the condition of how it was packed, i figured why it came so fast. it was a wreck, the corners all beat, a handful of packing peanuts and some thin paper tossed cattywompus inside. the shippers mustve played hacky-sack with it before tossing it up to the house

even so, my girl was excited. she had completely forgotten about the supposed monsters, she just wanted the book. it's a unique edition for sure, instead of looking for small items on a small scale, it just looks like pictures of parks or buildings, along with riddles like 'i spy a tricycle, i spy ten cards, i spy a crack in concrete that's hard'. it was a change of pace for me, even- a challenge. but my daughter was doing phenomenally.

the photographer must be local to my area, because i recognized the photos soon. hell, i think i saw the back of my head in the bank one. but it got strange when it came to a picture of a street.

my street of my home.

now im thinking, 'maybe it's personalized, it's google maps, and they look up the address for the buyer before they send it out?' but that was... impossible. after i ordered the book it came the very next day, there was no way theyd be able to just cram this page in last second. not only that, but there was the riddle.

i spy a sewer grate, a baseball, a torch,

i spy a busted-up box on the porch.

i shut the book on that page and told my daughter to go to bed. there was fuss, but something was wrong. i tuck her in and she complains again about monsters in the window. all through the night, theres monsters in the window, and i snap at her when she wakes me up the 3rd time.

at that point she was crying, and i was.. yelling. i dont feel good about it, god, especially not now, but i was tired and scared. thats no excuse. so was she.

after telling her it would be ok, she slept in my bed with me. i held her tight the whole night through, and i would do my research in the morning, i assured myself.

but i didnt het a chance. by sunrise she was gone. not in her bed, in her pillow fort, not in the kitchen, the den, nowhere. i phone the police, and i end up running down the street screaming her name.

as i get back home, though, i felt compelled to that damn book. god, why did i go back to that damn book??

it was a picture of us through the window.

'i spy ten earrings, 2 rings, and a comb

i spy a mom and daughter at home.'

it was like my tears froze from shock. i steeled myself and flipped to the next page.

'i spy a woman, big tears and brown curls

i spy a book, but i see no girl.'

as i said, the police are investigating this store. burn in hell you freak. ill see you there.

Well. It took some digging, but there's your recommendation. We were able to get I Spy: Housewarming from the crime scene - or, more so, the wreckange. Donna was griefstruck, this adding onto the loss of her husband shortly before this, leading to a burst of arson. The book was recovered just fine, seemingly one of the Leitners that can withstand some flames.

J. Sims, The Archivist

[catwyk]

tsv finale spoilers below. i wrote this during my first listen through. its long as fuck. im dead im ruined.

cull calling out to rane instead of faulkner.... rane is truly the real leader now

FAULKNER......

"katabasian rane? sister thurrocks?" im gonna be sick

"hes basically a cow" spit your shit carp

"people in my life keep leavin to serve a cause i just cant understand" BASHES MY HEAD ON THE WALL

"we must love them for fleein from our touch e must not run after them" oh baby :(

this is actually fucking destroying me right now oh poor faulkner. failed by the world.

"of course i recognize you. youre carpenter's ghost" // "yes. i am" // "that must mean that im being punished. arent i?" he sounds so small and young oh my god

"if this is my punishment, then why am i smiling?" OKAY PARALLELS TO HIS VISIONS IN S2. OKAY. IM NOT GOING TO CRY. I WONT.

his monologue is ruining me actually oh god.

"they invented their own faulkner. and they forced me to be him" THATS WHAT IM SAYIN

he called her his sister...

im sure hes gonna die

"you crashed a car??" // "yeeah. i crashed a car." i love her

"they need to fix you, they need to make you better, and ill, ill watch over your bed, ill be there, carpenter. ill pray, ill pray and pray for as long as i need to" christ alive. i need to lay down RIGHT NOW.

méabh de brún too good at acting like shes in pain im abt to dial an ambulance

EM??? EM MENTION. EM MENTION

ok this is fuelling my hc that faulkner reminded carpenter of em in some painful and undefinable way

"i should tell paige that story, if i get to see heg again"

"OUR paige?" CRYING FOR A MILLION YEARS. AND HIS "HUH" AS WELL WHEN CARPENTER CONFIRMS

twin mouths truther forever

"i hate you too, faulkner, i truly do. and i love you, too. in spite of everything" // "always on the very precipice of understanding one another"

faulkner's "DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!" is fucking me up b narr the voice actor everrr

SHES GONNA LEAVE HIM A CAIRN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"there'll be a place for you, and itll be beside me" DRIVING STRAIGHT INTO A LAMPPOST AS WE SPEAK

NO HES GONNA TRY AND KILL HER ISNT HE

"yeah. perhaps thats it. do you?" again. coolest fucking character on the planet

"this is when the waters parted, and at last..! at last he understood!" jesus christ. jon ware the writer that you are

"say you were raised in the service of a god of fire. so you feel like the world would be a much better place if more things were on fire" i busted out laughing WHAT a tone shift

"dennis duplace helped. hayward.. dad.. carpenter.. im leaving all of you behind" i am a husk of a person. lucille valentine knocking it out of the park

"best feeling in the world, seeing you walk away" holy fucking shit this is DAMAGING ME.

i wanna write every quote thats making my heart sting but the transcript is already up so theres no real point

every single va is popping the FUCK OFF by the way. i have to keep reminding myself theyre acting so i dont like. kill myself

val saving hayward was NOT on my bingo card what the fuck

"and before she died... she remembered who she was" OHHHHHHH MYYYYY GODDDDDD

hayward doing his own rites of the cairn maiden for himself :(

no gods coming for hayward but "fuck it. this one's not... for any of you. this ones for me"

WHY IS FAULKNER BACK. NONONO ITS ONLY GONNA BE BAD. PLEASE NO

i never realized the parallel between faulkner's gardener father and his gardener god

carpenter meant so much to him :(

"Sister! I love you! Where are you going? Dont turn your back on me! Dont you dare- Sister! I need you! SISTER! SISTER! MARCO! MARCO!" FAULKNER NO NOT LIKE THIS NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

FUCK YOU JON WARE (<- COMPLIMENT)

THE FAULKNER BODY FAKEOUT. SEE ABOVE POINT

carpenter's scream...... oh god.. oh méabh de brún the woman that you are

"he could be a face from my childhood. or his" charlie.......

HES BEEN BLOND THIS ENTIRE TIME????????????? i should have fucking known

"but no matter how it starts, no matter how it turns out for us, it can end with love, cant it? it can end with love. it can end with kindness." i said oh my god out loud

the delivery of "and then i let him go" why not just drive a railroad spike through my lungs

"the river is vast, and no dam can block every channel, and ours is a world of miracles." i said jesus christ out loud

i wheezed when she just. got back up this old bitch cannot die can she

not nana glass' song............

FUCKING TAINSLEY. CHEKHOVS TAINSLEY.

oh my god. a final heartbreaking credits scene

i had to just sit and lean back for a second. what a fucking ending. what a fucking podcast. this is one of those pieces of media that takes up residence in your brain forever. im never gonna stop thinking about this

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Critical (m, cold)

It’s an Elijah fic! Okay, so, I wrote this fic specifically for @waterfallofspace because she’s sent me so many amazing prompts and I’ve been blueballing her saying I’m going to use them. So I used as many of the prompts you sent in as I could in this one, along with a prompt from an anon about a critic coming to the restaurant, and this text post from @ithadtobesneezing. What can I say, all of you inspire me :) 

Hope you all like it, let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see in the future, and I’ll stop rambling so you can read it lmao. 

A little under 3k words. cw: male snz, colds, mention of contagion but no explicit contagion, vertigo/dizziness, a passing out moment, light mess. 

Critical

“We have a problem.”

If there was one sentence Elijah didn’t want to hear today, that was it. “I haven’t even set my shit down yet,” he said to Greyson, running a hand down his face. “Can we have a problem in twenty minutes, when I’ve mentally prepared myself?”

“Unfortunately, it’s an urgent one,” Greyson said, pushing his computer monitor towards his boss. He had the reservation sheet pulled up; Elijah raised an eyebrow.

“Is the problem OpenTable?” he asked, dropping his bag on the ground and siting heavily in his chair. Greyson gave Elijah a look and tapped the screen hard enough to brighten the spot he was touching.

“The problem is this,” Greyson spelled out, clicking on the name Trevor James. Elijah, still not following, just shook his head. “It’s a critic,” Greyson said.

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “Grey,” he said, “I know every critic in this city’s name. Trevor James is not a critic.”

“Wanna bet?” Greyson asked, pulling out his cell phone and clicking the screen rapidly. He held the device up to Elijah’s face, making the other man squint and pull back from the bright light.

“Christ, Greyson, hold it a little closer why don’t you,” Elijah pushed his glasses up his nose and grabbed the phone from the chef, whose eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Oh, fuck, you’re wearing your glasses,” Greyson groaned. “Oh, shit. Tell me you didn’t catch the plague that the servers have been passing around.”

“I didn’t catch the plague the servers have been passing around,” Elijah parroted, a liquid sniffle betraying him immediately. Greyson slammed his head into his hands, defeated. “I didn’t,” Elijah insisted, squinting hard at the phone. It was a conversation between Greyson and a chef at an Italian spot in the financial district; the chef at the other restaurant was warning Greyson about the newest alias of the New York Time’s most renowned food critic, Natalia Gomez, who had showed up at his place unexpectedly and docked them a star. Elijah knew Natalia well; they had been first acquainted when he was managing at Eleven Madison Park in his twenties, and she was working for Forbes; she was known for being ruthless even back then.  Apparently, ‘Trevor James’ had made her way through half of Manhattan under the fake name, collecting stars with every unexpected drop-in. It was dirty, but it was propelling her to national attention – the only thing critics really gave a fuck about at the end of the day.

“Lij, you really cannot be sick for this service, like I’m sorry but we can’t lose a star; we just got two last year, and -”

“I’m fine, Greyson,” Elijah snapped, placing the chef’s phone back in front of him. “I – HNGTSHH-ue!” Elijah caught the sudden sneeze in his elbow, cursing himself for the comically-poor timing. He sniffled again and sat himself up, attempting to look as put-together, as unruffled as possible. “I’mb good.” Fuck.

“Fuck, Elijah,” Greyson moaned. “This woman is going to tear us to fucking pieces, and you pick today of all days to get fucking sick?”

Elijah gave Greyson a look that could cut glass. “I’m not sick.”

“Your nose is literally twitching.”

“Fuck off, you dickhead it is n- hhNGSTHH! IGTSZCH! Huhh -!” Elijah allowed himself a moment stuck in pre-sneeze torture before putting his arm down and sniffling pitifully. “Okay,” he said, grabbing a tissue. “I have a cold. Happy? It’s ndothing. I’ve done full events with a fucking cold, I think I can handle one critic for one night.”

Greyson was already pawing through their medicine drawer like a madman. “Dayquil,” he said, placing the bottle of orange liquid on the desk. “Cough syrup. Ibuprofen. I don’t think -”

“Chef,” Elijah said, an attempt to snap Greyson out of his mania. It seemed to work; Greyson whipped his head towards his boss, the endless bottles of medicine seemingly forgotten for the time being. “What I need from you is to go prepare to cook the meal of a lifetime. Okay? I’m a grown man. I can handle myself.”

The two of them held eye contact for a few moments before Greyson sighed and looked back at the reservations. “Okay,” he said. “Just… let me know if you need -”

“I won’t need anything,” Elijah insisted. “Just go do what you’re best a- ahh… ahhTSHZUE!”

The chef set his jaw as Elijah yanked another tissue from their shared box. “Bless, boss.”

“Go do your fuckin’ job.”

***

Elijah didn’t have a cold.

Or maybe more accurately, he didn’t just have a cold.

From the moment his feet had hit the floor this morning, Elijah knew that he’d picked up the awful flu the servers had swapped back and forth for weeks. His head and neck hurt, his lymph nodes were swollen, and he could feel the tendrils of a soon-to-be fever snaking up his back before he even got in the shower. The servers had complained over and over about this illness, but he’d assumed they were all just being dramatic, as servers are wont to be.

He assumed wrong.

“Hey, Elijah, so I think we should put the critic at twenty-seven, I know you had her at thirty-one but -”

“GTSHHH-uhh! hhhNGTSHZUE! ITSHZ-ue! Hhh…”

Mark, caught completely off-guard by the intensity of Elijah’s sneezes, placed the floor chart he’d been holding on an unset table and pulled out a chair for his boss to sit in. Elijah did so, grateful, and invited Mark to sit next to him with a flourish of his hand. He did, and regarded Elijah with a look of disquiet before addressing the elephant in the room. “Um...you good?”

Elijah gave Mark a watery glare. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and congested. “What were you sayigg?”

The floor manager warily picked up the floor chart again and pointed to the two tables he’d been considering for the critic. “So, twenty-seven still has the city view, but the sun doesn’t set near it. At thirty-one, she’s going to get the sun right in her eyes; see, she’s coming at six, and -”

“HFTSHH! HRRSHH-ue! HTSHHH-uhh! Fuck – hhhETSZHUE!” Elijah doubled over at the waist, barely able to get a hand to his mouth before the volley of sneezes escaped. Mark, eyes wide, fast-walked away from the table, only to return a few moments later with a box of tissues. His boss pulled a handful out, grateful, and cleaned himself up before regarding the younger man.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting up and rubbing an eye behind his glasses. “Yeah. Twenty-sevend sounds like a good pland.” Elijah directed a wheezing cough into his elbow and cleared his throat. “Andything else?”

“Uhh… I mean, other than once again asking if you’re okay, then no, nothing else.”

The GM attempted a smile. “I’mb okay,” he said. “Is Riley on tondight?”

Mark nodded, silent. Elijah gave a nod in return.

“Let’s put her on Natalia, okay? I ndeed someone strong serving her.” Mark nodded again and escaped to the kitchen, leaving Elijah to wallow. This is going to be such a goat fuck, he thought, pushing himself to a standing position and grabbing the table when a wave of vertigo passed over him. Oh, shit.

A minute or two must have passed while Elijah closed his eyes and willed himself to stay upright. Finally, the vertigo unraveled its fingers from his aching head and he opened his eyes. For now, he was fine.

Elijah walked carefully back to the office in search of more Dayquil, those two little words rattling in his fevered mind. For now.

***

“Guys, the mbost important reservation tondight is Trevor Jambes at six o’clock. It’s an alias for Natalia Gomez, the critic at the Time’s. Riley is ond it, but I really ndeed you all to – to… hhh…” Elijah trailed off, an arm raising to catch a sneeze that didn’t seem like it was going to come. After a moment, Elijah lowered his arm and sniffled. “I ndeed you guys to be on your best behavior. Okay? Ndo gossiping on the floor, everyone ndeeds to check their uniforms for spots, just… let’s all act like we’re civilized tondight. O – HNGTSHHH-ue!”

“Bless, Elijah,” a few of the servers chorused. Elijah nodded, pulled out a tissue from his now-ever-present box, and blew his nose quietly. Greyson stood and placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder to signal that he would take over.

“If not for the restaurant, be on your best behavior for your boss, who one of you infected with your disgusting germs,” Greyson joked, prompting a collective chuckle from the group. “We’re already biting our nails waiting for Elijah’s nose to blow this whole thing for us, don’t make us worry about you blowing it, too.” Elijah reddened, and the servers laughed in earnest this time.

“Hilarious, Chef,” Elijah muttered, rolling his eyes. Greyson did as he was told, while Elijah held on as tightly as he could to his consciousness. The wave of dizziness earlier seemed to set off a ripple effect, and now anytime Elijah moved his head a little too quickly he was about three seconds away from passing out.

“...boss? Hellooo? Earth to Elijah!”

Elijah yanked himself back to the present and looked up to see Greyson standing above him, looking worried. The servers had exited the dining room to go eat family meal – when did that happen? - and the two of them were alone. “Yeah, what’s – hhNGTSHZZUE! Guh, fuck. Snrf. Whadt’s up?” Elijah asked, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

Greyson raised an eyebrow and sat back down next to his boss. “Are you sure you’re alright? I mean, you took Dayquil, right? How are you still sneezing so much?”

Elijah gave Greyson a look. “I have a cold, Grey. Combes with the territory.”

“Yeah, but like… you also look fucking awful, dude. Like not trying to be an asshole, but you look like you’re about to keel over. Do you have a - ?”

“HNGTSHH-ue! HTSZZHHUE! HhhNGTSHZUE!” Elijah wrenched away from Greyson, managing to bury his face in his elbow just in time. Greyson pulled back, pushed the tissues towards his boss, and waited for the other man to clean himself up before gently placing a hand on Elijah’s forehead.

“Dude,” he said when Elijah pulled away. “You’re burning up.”

Elijah rolled his eyes – mistake, he thought, steadying himself on the table once again. He took a big breath and swallowed painfully before responding. “Shut the fuck up, Grey. I’mb fine.”

“Yeah? Because you’re holding on to the table for dear life right now.”

The GM bit the inside of his cheek and let go of the table, allowing the wave of dizziness to wash over and move past him. When it did, he regarded Greyson again. “I’mb good. Just go get ready to service. I’ll take some mbore meds. Dond’t worry about mbe. Okay?”

Greyson stood and shook his head. “Whatever you say, Lij,” he said, defeated. “You trying to ignore the fuckin’ flu has nothing to do with me. Try not to sneeze on the critic, okay?” He exited to the kitchen, and Elijah slowly lowered his head between his legs. He took some deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay, he told himself. It has to.

***

By the time six o’clock rolled around, Elijah was 100% sure he wasn’t going to make it through the night without passing out.

The first hour of service, he’d been able to sit in the office and try to hype himself up, while avidly avoiding the looks Greyson flashed him every few minutes. That was the easy part; the moment the critic showed up and the hostess came back looking for him however he really didn’t know how he was going to pull this off. “Yeah,” he said to the concerned-looking hostess. “I’mb coming. Thanks.”

Elijah took a deep breath and pushed himself to a standing position with little drama, then swallowed hard as he put on his blazer. He checked his reflection in the tiny mirror Greyson had put up in their office a few months ago – looking absolutely horrifying, congrats – then grimaced and looked away. He took one more slow breath in, uncapped the Dayquil he’d been chugging the past ten hours, and took a long swig. Good as it’s going to get, he thought, walking out of the office and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors.

The restaurant was packed; it was a Tuesday night, but it was spring break and every local in the area knew that Elliot’s was the place to see and be seen, even during the week. Elijah breezed past the server’s station, ignoring the looks the servers were flashing him, and approached the host stand.

“Is she still at twenty-sevend?” Elijah asked the hostess, and she nodded without looking back at her boss. Elijah nodded in return, swallowed hard, and waltzed into the dining room.

Natalia Gomez was not the kind of critic the Time’s usually employed; that is to say, she was anything but unremarkable, which was generally what you wanted in your critics. Natalia certainly stood out in a crowd; tall, curvaceous, big hair and a bigger laugh – stunning was the first word that came to Elijah’s mind, but he shook it away as quickly as it entered. Critics were the bane of every restaurant owner’s existence. Not meant for ogling, but for tearing to shreds from the comfort of the back-of-house, post-service.

“Good evening, Natalia,” Elijah said, approaching the critic’s table. “Good to see you, as always.”

Natalia turned away from the window with ease and smiled at Elijah. “Elijah,” she said. “Can’t pull one over on you, can I?”

Elijah returned the smile, with difficulty. “It appears ndot,” he said, clearing his throat. “Chef has prepared a tasting menu for you this evening, if you’re interested.”

The critic laughed, the sound light and tinkling like water poured into glass. “You know me too well,” she said, handing her menu over. Elijah nodded, picked up her bottle of wine, and refilled her glass.

“I’ll send himb out shortly,” Elijah said, placing the bottle back where it was. “Enjoy your night, Natalia.”

Elijah turned and walked away from the table, not stopping at the host stand, not stopping at the server station, not stopping until he was at the pass, in Greyson’s line of sight.

“Chef,” he said, as clearly as he could. “Tasting mbenu’s a go.”

Greyson nodded and signaled Matt to start putting Natalia’s first course together. He turned back to Elijah and asked, “Are you going to take the first course out?”

The GM swallowed hard, grabbed onto the prep table, and shook his head. “I don’t think -” he started, then stopped suddenly. Elijah’s grip on the table loosened, he blinked hard, and his eyes rolled back. He felt his knees buckle, heard Greyson say, “Lij!” and finally lost consciousness.

***

When Elijah came to, he was laid out on the infamous tablecloth bed that every manager seemed to succumb to when they were ill. It took a moment, but when he remembered where he was and what was going on, Elijah attempted to push himself to standing.

“Whooaa, boss, go ahead and stay right there,” Greyson, who Elijah hadn’t realized was sitting behind him in one of the office rolling chairs, said, gently pushing Elijah back to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere til I take you home.”

Elijah slowly sunk back down and cleared his throat. “Why aren’t you cookigg? Shouldn’t you be mbakigg Natalia’s tasting?”

Greyson looked down at his boss with bemusement. “Natalia’s long gone, boss,” he said. “She ate, we talked for awhile – she said she loved everything. She sends her regards; she said she’s sorry she booked on a night when you’re so sick.” Greyson turned his chair to fully regard his boss. “You never told me you guys knew each other.”

The GM shrugged weakly. “Doesn’t mbatter, right? She’s still a critic. She doesn’t give a fuck if I’mb her best friend; her job is to critique at any cost.”

Greyson knitted his eyebrows together. “I mean, but she does give a fuck though, Lij,” he said, handing Elijah a bottle of water that the GM gratefully gulped from. “She felt badly. I feel badly.” Elijah gave Greyson a confused look, and the chef shrugged. “I know I made you feel like you were going to ruin our star rating because you’re sick,” he said. “I’m sorry. You know I care about your well-being, right? Like, more than I care about stars.”

The GM closed his eyes slowly and took a deep breath. This conversation would have been a lot even if he wasn’t flu-ridden and fever-addled; in this state, he was sure he was about to burst into overwhelmed, sick tears. “I know, Grey,” he managed. “Thangk you.”

“Anytime,” Greyson said, clearly grateful to be done with the conversation. “Now, just lay there and try not to keel over, okay? I’m just going to check out the line, and then I’ll drive you home.”

Elijah managed a weak smile. “I’ll do my best,” he said, and thanked whatever God there was that Greyson’s back was turned when a single, grateful tear fell onto the tablecloth nest.

[p-t-love]

Things “Bulls” Like

I recently read a post about the collected thoughts of “Bulls.”  A Bull is the “other man” in a hotwife / cuckold relationship.  I got so aroused reading this.  I’ve selected some of the hottest ones.  I’ve also added a few that I’ve heard myself.

I like fucking a married woman if her husband has no idea. It’s great knowing I can convince her to cheat.  

I like watching the faces of husbands as they deal with the emotions of watching their wife get fucked by another man.  

I get off rubbing in a husband’s face how slutty his wife is with me.  

I love seducing a married woman and making her husband a cuckold for the first time ever.  

I enjoy cumming all over a married woman.  It’s like I’m marking my turf.  

I love keeping a married woman out overnight or taking her home with me.  I know her husband is sitting awake, wondering what she’s doing.

I like fucking a wife in front of her husband and telling him what a good piece of ass she is, or how good her pussy feels.

I like the first time a married woman sees my cock and tells me that I’m bigger than her husband.

I like cumming on a married womans face knowing she has to clean up before she goes home, and cumming in her mouth knowing it will mean I’m always a part of her.  

I enjoy seeing her wedding ring while I’m fucking her. It’s a power trip fucking someone else’s woman.

I love hearing a married woman beg me to fuck her, because I know she doesn’t get it at home.

I love fucking a wife in their marriage bed.  

I love claiming another man’s wife as MY slut or girlfriend.

I like walking into a hotel to get a room with a married woman.

I like hearing someone’s wife thank me after I fuck her, or if its a couple I like hearing her husband thank me for fucking her.

I like sending her husband to get me a beer or something while she sucks my dick.

I like giving her to a friend to use and treat her like my property. They love that shit.

I like telling her husband that his wife’s pussy is mine now.  

I love when a wife tells me fantasies or experiences she’s had that she’s never told her husband about.  

I love when a married woman wants to do things with me that she doesn’t do with her husband.  

I like to call a husband on speaker phone while I’m owning his wife in bed.

I like to call a husband and tell him I’m done with his wife and to come pick her up.

I like to take a married woman with me into a drug store, stand in line together and have her buy a box of condoms for us.

I like coming in a wife’s pussy while her husband watches and waits his turn.

I like getting a wife to tell her husband how much bigger I feel inside her.

I like to show up at a married woman’s work place and pick her up for a lunch quickee with her coworkers watching her leave with me.

I like to call a husband at work and and tell him his wife is servicing me.

I love to make her lose track of time so her husband comes home and catches us in the act.  

I like having a married woman tell me I was the best fuck she ever had, especially if it’s right in front of her husband.

I like to make a husband stand guard while I fuck his wife in a public place, or fuck a wife in the back of a car in a parking lot while her husband is in the driver seat.

I get off trying to make a husband jealous while I fuck his wife.

I enjoy feeling up a wife in a public place, where others might see her.

I like introducing someone’s wife to my friends, telling them she’s my girlfriend.

I dig the risk of knowing her husband might catch us.

It’s fun having a married woman tell her husband that she can’t do without me.

I get off big time fucking a married womans ass in front of her husband.

I like showing up unannounced and lead her off to the bedroom.

I get off knowing that she might get caught but is willing to risk that to get laid.  

I love to go out with a wife and her husband to a bar or club, and have the whole place know it’s me that she’s going home with.  

I like when a wife I’m fucking tells her friends about us.

[welcometololaland]

Thanks for the self-rec asks! I'm feeling very...not into my own ao3 right now so INSTEAD i'm going to send the asks on and tell you five things (in no particular order) that i've been thinking about this week <3

ONE: Swimming - I NEED TO FINISH THE SWIM FIC AKA THIS AMAZING WORK BY @carlos-in-glasses. I started reading and then I went overseas and I felt like I didn't have the time to go through and scream line by line and I'm so excited to dive back in (hehe see what I did there) now that it's finished!

TWO: State parks and secret service agents - not necessarily together, but I've been lowkey dreaming of obtaining my own slightly insane-looking garden gnome and a stock tank for a while thanks to the beautiful fic created by @iboatedhere (I don't have a pool and a stock tank seems like a good option right now). Also the secret service AU snippets are life giving (recent one here).

THREE: Guaranteeing nothing - screamed (literally) my way through the first fourteen chapters of Never a Guarantee and now I need to finish it!!!! @clottedcreamfudge and her writing make me so fucking feral in the best way and this fic is no exception. I had much fear about my sanity going into this because I knew it was going to drive me wild but my crops have been watered and I eagerly await completion of the arcs.

FOUR: Mythical things (aka. a dearly beloved universe) - to be fair, I'm not sure I ever stopped thinking about Jen's masterpiece - as if you were a mythical thing - because it lives rent free in my head (genuinely one of my favourite fics ever). I'm thinking about it a lot more now that @strandnreyes has put the idea of writing a sequel in my head (snippet is here). A re read is in my sights and I'm very excited about it! If you haven't read it, you absolutely have to.

FIVE: TK and Carlos getting unprofessional - @rmd-writes and I have been playing around in this document for ages, co-writing something so silly it borders on crack and it's the most fun I've had writing fic in ages (thank you to @celeritas2997 for putting up with us lol). Everything I do by myself seems so hard right now but this feels so easy and (I think it's fair to say) it's almost done? 1 and a little bit more chapters? I'm EXCITE. You can read the most recent snippets of the fic colloquially known as "(un)profesh" here (rmd) and here (me).

ALSO to anyone who has shared a doc link with me - I promise I am also thinking very hard about those and will give them the time and attention they deserve when I get home! I never know whether people like me specifically mentioning those types of things so I'll just like...sit down but please know i'm thinking of you and sorry that I haven't been around much!

[codename-adler]

Hello, Andrew.

(If this isn’t Andrew then bug off. I’ll know.)

So. Hi. I’m Aaron Minyard. Your brother. Your twin brother, you know. Did you know? I didn’t know. That was some surprise. Good surprise, though. Only good. Promise.

I don’t know if you know how I found out? I was at the park, doing things, you know, doing my own thing, and some police prick kept yelling for me, only, by your name. He swore I was you. Officer Philip Higgins, at your service. Well not really, he was ready to drag me back to where you belong (I don’t know where that is). But you must know that. How he is, I mean. Not where you belong. Although you just might. I hope you know. You could help me out then.

But, uh, getting ahead of myself. Imagine I start asking you all sorts of philosophical questions and truths when we haven’t even met… Yikes… You’d probably tell me to fuck off, and I’d agree with you. So I’m not gonna do that. It’s not why I wanted to write to you anyway.

Brotherhood is what I wanted to write to you about. I woke up that day, never in a million years imagining I’d go to bed a brother. Like, I have a brother . You. You are my brother. My twin brother. And I’m yours. I don’t know who was born first (I was, I’m sure of it), but… Twins , Andrew! That’s wicked cool.

And not just that. We are IDENTICAL. ("Monozygotic" twins, it's called. Epic.) Even Higgins was fooled, and frankly astounded when he found me. His face! Although he must’ve thought the same thing about mine, and twice worse at that. I can’t really wrap my head around the fact. That there’s a whole other person, completely separate from me, that looks exactly like me nonetheless. It seems impossible. I guess it’ll only really sink in when we’ll see each other, right?

I wonder if you and I have the same teeth. Mine are alright, I think. Not exactly Colgate-worthy, but I’ve got all of them, in the right place, which is good enough for me. I never really paid attention, before. I've learned that teeth are often different, even if slightly, in sets of identical twins. I read about it in a textbook at the school library. When I found out, I mean. I don’t want you to think that I have a weird tooth fetish or something. I just really like biology.

There’s so much to a body that you don’t realize makes a body a person. How does my hair look on you? Or like, the other way around. Higgins said we have the same eyes. But to what extent? Where do yours end and mine begin? Is it in the shape? The color? The light’s reflection in them? The lashes, perhaps, or the eyebrows above? What about the eyebrows? Two bodies, side by side, exactly the same in every way, yet one is you, and one is me. Wow. It just… It never stops. My brain exploded just now. Again. Does yours do that too? Since you’ve known?

Like, imagine we have reverse parts! I mean, you know how my right half is your left, and your right half is my left? Maybe our moles are mirrored. That could be how people tell us apart. “Hey, there’s Aaron with the left-cheek mole! Not to be confused with Andrew, with the right-cheek mole!”, you know? Jeez, we can’t be that identical, can we?

Can we really?

I don't have much experience with twins. There were those Conway girls in 4th grade, not identical, just fraternal twins. They still looked a whole lot like each other. It's crazy to remember them, now. To think, that as I was fascinated by the pair of them, not only did I have my own other half, but you were so close. And I didn't even feel it. Is that bad? Is there something wrong with me? With... us? Do you think, because of what happened when we were born... because of Mom... our connection suffered? Don't tell her that. Please don't tell her that. But how? How could I not feel anything missing? I never knew, Andrew. Never once had an ounce of a doubt. No phantom limbs, no echo in my mind, no unexplainable pains nor random premonitions. You were never there. Even now, as I write to you, I really hope you'll be at the other end of my letter, because you still feel... void. Like this is all a joke my mind is playing on me. I hope you're really real. Not just a pipedream.

Maybe we can work on it. The twin "bond" thingy. Maybe you knew? Not, like, knew-knew, just... knew? Or maybe looking back on things now, you realize you knew? I'm trying to do that, to look for memories where there could have been something tipping me off, but I have a shit memory. It's so vague and fuzzy most of the time. Does that happen to you? So much for wanting to be a doctor...

So did you? Know?

I hope you did, in some kind of cosmic way, as they say. Because if you did, maybe the connection, our twin bond, isn't totally broken. We can get it back to full strength. 

If you'd like, that is.

Imagine the fucking bad luck of it all if we were those ill-fated twins of big stories, destined to be sworn enemies, and everything would have been fine if that damn policeman had just minded his own business! Ha! 

I haven't really talked about Mom or the family. I hope you're not expecting a dad, because I haven't got one of those for you. I'm sorry. I would have liked for you to have a dad. I mean, when they find your long-lost family, you hope for the whole package, right? So yeah, no dad. But we got an uncle and an aunt, and a cousin! I'll tell you about them if you want to. I'm just worried I'll scare you off if I start right away, on top of the mess I'm already telling you now. But we got time, right? I shouldn't feel rushed, I must remember that. We found each other and there's no way I'm letting go. And we'll meet soon, right? I know Mom refused the offer your foster mother gave us, but Mom doesn't have to know... Not immediately, at least. I mean, she did carry us for 9 months, but I also shared the womb with you from the beginning, so I don't know who's got priority over who... But I'm choosing to give it to you. 

I'll stop my nonsense here, now. I don't want you to start believing your newfound brother's a total nutcase. I'm not, promise. I hope you're doing okay on your end with everything that's been going on. Your foster mom seems nice. That's nice. So, yeah, again I'm really glad you're here now, and I'll be seeing you soon, yeah? Okay.

Bye now.

- Aaron

[an-aura-about-you]

a little more procrastination, a little more Handbook for Mortals!

let's do Chapter 8 part 2:

when we last left our hero, Scheherazade told us she was flirting with Jackson. we didn't actually see her flirting with Jackson because the narration thought it was more important to show us the logistics of everybody going home.

-Zade walks into her apartment and reiterates to us that she likes both Mac and Jackson for some reason.

-Zade wonders if it's possible for her to love two people and thinks it's not, but sorry, you can't convince me that polyamory wouldn't be a viable solution. High Noon Over Camelot changed my brain chemistry too much for me to not consider trying it.

-she also seems to think Mac and Jackson are friends but I don't really know if that's true. this is the first time she's brought it up, we haven't had any scenes with just Mac and Jackson by themselves, and with how she laid everything out with Tad back in the chapter that introduced him (that I mercifully spared you from reading) it's weird that it wasn't mentioned before. granted, she could be lying again like she did about what happened after she saved Sofia. I am whipping this dead horse until the remains are dust.

-the writing level of this book is so bad that I was actually impressed when Sarem used the correct its in a sentence.

-Zade takes a moment to think about Lambo Girl but decides she's just not as worried about being kamehameha'd in a parking garage as she is about which boy she wants to kiss.

-ok. so I am actually super lenient when it comes to cartomancy because I don't do a lot of it and thus don't have a lot of practice. typically I use my tarot cards to prod my brain for answers by association. "I have drawn x card, which means y in this position in the spread, and this makes me think of z. Why is that?" that's how my own readings tend to go, a way for me to examine why I think the way I do and what I want to do about it. as a result, I believe there is no wrong way to read tarot cards.

or rather, I thought that until I read this book. because Sarem writes the one possible way to do a tarot spread wrong. observe:

I promised myself to do a reading on her when I was done with this. (For what it's worth, I did--and I came up with nothing. The cards made no sense, which told me that someone had gone to great lengths for me to not get a reading on the situation at all...So I pushed the whole incident--and the girl--out of my mind and decided not to worry about it till it came up again.)

what.

the fuck.

do you mean.

you came up with nothing?

how do you come up with nothing with a deck of tarot cards?? no associations spring to mind whatsoever??? did the cards become blank? were they replaced with garbled text and images making them illegible? how are they not making sense? by contradiction? contradictions happen with people all the damn time! also how would this go down in the movie that's totally gonna be made f'real? essentially skipped over like this? just paid lip service?

this is the scene I was saying would be better with a crystal ball or a scrying mirror because this bullshit would make way more sense.

-let's add another tally to bigoted language because it's spirit guide time.

-based on how Zade words her query, she's looking for commitment, which just feels weird when you aren't even really dating either of them yet. don't you wanna, oh I dunno, do that first??? The Straights Are Not Okay.

-Zade is sad about her lack of communication with her mother when she's making the active choice to not contact Dela. we're gonna learn in a little bit that Dela has also chosen not to reach out to Zade, so idk what to tell these knuckleheads. they're just determined to play sea lion and squirrel.

-Zade takes the time to explain what all the cards she lays out means except the Devil because she doesn't know why it's there. really????? you get a card from the Major Arcana in your spread and you aren't even a little tiny bit curious about why that's there???? or the fact that it's appeared between the Magician and the Lovers and shares imagery between both of those cards??????

in fact let's go over it a little bit. the book doesn't specify the orientation of all of these cards, so I'm gonna be a basic bitch and assume none of the cards are appearing reversed.

brushing up a bit from biddytarot.com, the Devil is the shadow self, attachment, addiction, sexuality, and restriction by choice. and without looking up the other cards in this set of three, I know the Magician and the Devil both have their hands positioned As Above So Below and the Lovers are mirrored in the captive couple in the Devil.

honestly, the thing I'm taking from this is Zade is the one causing her own problems. if Zade is the Magician, and she does see it as literal for herself, then the Devil combining imagery from the other two cards is putting Zade in that spot as well. she only sees the Lovers as representing a potential relationship for herself, and while I do agree that that's not necessarily wrong, it does feel like willfully overlooking that it's also a card of choices. when taken as a complete story in these three cards, it will not reach that happy liberation until Zade relinquishes whatever darkness is keeping her from making a choice.

for someone so determined to get back home and do a tarot spread, she sure is willfully blind about what it's trying to tell her.

-we get the spreads for both Jackson and Mac and Zade is ultimately like either of them would be good. hmmmm I wonder if the tarot cards are telling Zade that she needs to make her own damn choice on this one???? think that's a possibility????

-we then jump to an italics scene and get an update on what Dela's doing. she's been doing tarot spreads on Zade to figure out what she's been up to. seems weird we're getting Dela's pov on this, but then maybe Zade didn't have anything to say about how the first card she got for the three she laid out for her future was the fucking Tower??????? I mean, she basically ignored the Devil, so this tracks.

-Dela then gets a customer so we can get info on how tarot cards work in this universe. said customer is a woman who gets more specific description than any of the other women we've been introduced to apart from Zade combined. even more than Lil, who did get a description but it was that of Generic Goth With Tattoos.

-ugh, Dela's talking about Destiny too, but like. I guess there's only so much fighting about it I can do? if it's right there in the story, then that's how it is, but stories in which a character can't escape destiny can be so much better. idk, the thing that I would say if this is a real world situation is the truth: that there are things that we will never be able to control. some things are set in stone, but idk if the things I think of as set in stone are the same things Dela thinks of as set in stone.

-omg it's the lemonade scene. you guys are not ready for the lemonade scene.

-get ready for some serious tallymarks.

-but before that let's play another quick game of When Is This Story Set? Zade buys a small lemonade from Hot Dog on a Stick in the Fashion Show Mall in Las Vegas, Nevada for exactly $2.09 after tax. the same lemonade today costs $3.99 before tax. I don't know what Hot Dog on a Stick's prices have been historically, but if I had to guess, I'm willing to bet this price is circa 2011 when Sarem first started writing H4M the screenplay.

-the teen boy cashier is all goo-goo eyes at Zade and he compliments her hair. I don't even understand why everyone is complimenting her hair? I don't mean that as a slam on it because it's simple, even though it is based on how she described it. (I don't think I ever bothered to mention it because of how unimportant it is? but she's dyed the lower half of her hair like pink and blue and green and shit.) but Zade's hair is the thing she's gotten the most compliments on. she told us back in Chapter 0 that the people she knew back home said she was sweet and kind, but nobody she's talked to in the book has said that about her. it's one of those things we have to take her dubious word for. and that's about to be made even more dubious.

-the narration points out this cashier is probably 19 or 20, so fully an adult and not much younger than Zade, but it feels gross for Zade to look at him and think, "Talk to me in ten years." like. why are you saying a jailbait line if he's not jailbait?

-I will give Sarem this, at least she's writing Zade uncomfortable with Alan the cashier's attention. this is clearly her glamour going on, the thing Lambo Girl said she had.

-but uh-oh! Alan's girlfriend also works at Hot Dog on a Stick and she's mad that Alan's making goo-goo eyes at Zade! so instead of telling Alan to quit it she goes to yell at Zade? why?

-Zade's telling us she's not afraid of this teenage girl getting up in her face about this, but why would any adult be? especially when said teenage girl is more than half a foot shorter than you? it's a simple misunderstanding and you could just walk away.

-Zade tells the girl not to start anything with her, but she's getting mad.

-"I'm not really sure why I had allowed some lemonade girl to bother me--" an excellent thing to bring up since that is exactly what you are doing by not walking away. you know full well she's being unreasonable and she's at work. she, theoretically, is already in plenty of trouble for starting shit with a customer. you don't need to do anything else. but I know you're gonna.

-"I wanted to teach her a lesson." and here's what Zade does to do that: she uses her magic to make the vat of lemonade explode, dumping the entire contents of lemonade on her. the narration says it sent "shards of glass in every direction" so you can't fucking tell me she didn't get absolutely glassed. Zade even had enough presence of mind to spare everyone else. add this assault to the violent actions tally.

-things Zade could have used magic for but didn't: saving Sofia's life

things Zade used magic for but didn't have to: putting up a tent, assaulting Hot Dog on a Stick girl

-she straight up says, "When life hands you lemons..." as she walks away, the thing she should have done before it escalated to this point.

this is how the chapter ends, with Zade assaulting and humiliating a teenage girl due to a misunderstanding that we know full well was because of Zade's magic. the girl was saying some hurtful stuff to her, and it's true there was no need for it, but Zade was the adult here and she chose to do something that could have killed another person because she was called a skank and a bitch. jesus fucking christ.

[crimson-calligraphyx]

14: Like A Villain

Noah

When it was past midnight and I still hadn't heard from Olivia to pick her up, an unsettling feeling sat in the pit of my stomach. She never called me, and she didn't pick up the phone when I called, either. It was possible she didn't have service at the hospital, or maybe her phone was on silent and she didn't hear it, but it was unlikely they'd allow visitors this late. Hell, even bringing her there at nearly 10 pm was pushing it—most visiting hours are from noon to 6 pm.

After I spoke to the receptionist at the hospital, rage replaced the anxiety that I had. Olivia had lied to me when I called her last, saying she was in the waiting room when she had actually left the building. I was already annoyed that she wouldn't pick up the phone, but realizing that I now had to search for her was infuriating. I tried giving her one more call before I began to drive around aimlessly, only to throw my phone into the passenger seat in aggravation from another unaccepted call.

I made my way towards town slowly, taking my time to scan the street in hopes of spotting her walking. For all I know, I could've gone the complete opposite direction of where she was, but my gut was telling me downtown would be the right place to look since there was nothing but woods the other way. When I glanced to my left and saw the liquor store, I had the sinking feeling that that was where she wound up. I groaned and threw my head against my seat when I saw they were closed; I couldn't ask any of the employees if they had seen her.

I resumed my search for Liv, crawling by the commons, scanning each and every bench that I passed. Somehow, by the grace of God, I spotted her—sprawled out on a bench, one arm dangling off the side, a bottle lightly grasped in her hand. My immediate reaction was relief, but that quickly dissipated when I realized she wasn't conscious. I threw the car in park and hopped out, marching my way over to her.

She was snoring lightly with her jaw slack, and her head was tilted to the edge of the seat with her dark hair splayed over her face. I remembered the first time I saw her like this and thought how beautiful and innocent she looked while she snoozed on my lap, but this was not the case at the moment. Seeing that the 375ml she had in her hand was bone dry made my stomach churn, just imagining how revolting it was to drink all of that in one go. It made my blood boil with how foolish she was being—she was more than just vulnerable. Anyone could take advantage of her right now, or she could have wandered off into the road and wound up in the same situation at Vic.

"Liv," I call out and she doesn't so much as flinch. "Olivia," I speak louder, giving her shoulder a push. I clenched my teeth and shook her a little harder, this time being rewarded with her slowly opening her eyes. I heard the bottle slip out of her hand and roll under the bench as she groggily pushed herself up in a sitting position. She brings a hand to her head, looking up at me with one eye closed while she registered that I was standing in front of her. I watched the panic spread over her face as she attempted to stand, stumbling into me. With an aggravated sigh, I looped an arm around her and somehow walked her back to my car.

I sat her down in her seat and buckled her in as she stared at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she slurred. To hinder myself from yelling at her, I ground my teeth together and took a deep breath before I shut the door and made my way into the driver's seat. Her body was slumped into the door, left hand covering her face as she full on sobbed. I felt my heart drop; it fucking killed me to see her like this. I wanted to express to her how awful of a situation this was, but I knew the second I opened my mouth, it would come out as condescending, not comforting.

When I pulled into the driveway, I took her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. She looks over at me, her eyes reddened and puffy, and her cheeks tear stained. She did stop crying, but she was struggling to catch her breath, her chest heaving from how hard she had been sobbing. I felt myself deflating from regret of my silent treatment and gave her hand another reassuring squeeze with a small smile. “I-I’m sorry, N-Noah,” she stammers. I sigh, “I’m not saying it’s okay…but I’m glad that you’re okay.” She gives me a sheepish nod but remains silent. “What were you thinking, Olivia?” I ask, keeping my voice as calm as possible. She shrugs and hangs her head. “I’m just so scared,” she whispered. I let go of her hand and tip her head in my direction by her chin so that she was looking at me. “I know you are, but you know this isn’t the right way to handle that.” “I-I don’t know what is.” I pursed my lips, “You know that I’m here for you, Liv.” “But y-you left m-me at the hospital alone,” she retorts. “Because you begged me to, Olivia! Was this your plan all along?” I shouted, causing her to flinch.

I see fresh tears start to well up in her eyes as she scrambled to remove her seatbelt and fumbled with the door handle before she practically fell out of the car. “Fuck,” I mentally kick myself in the ass, unbuckling my seatbelt and ran over to her side of the car. “Olivia, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that!” She was clumsily making her way up the walkway, her body resembling a marionette being pulled from all directions as she tried to keep her balance. I catch up to her and sling an arm around her to assist, but she pushes me away from her. “Leave m-me alone,” she grumbles, “I can walk on my own.”

I felt anger flare in me from her shoving me away and growled as I took hold of her again. I hoisted her up effortlessly, throwing her over my shoulder as she thrashed in an attempt to free herself. I was thankful to see that the front door was left unlocked, opening it and dropping her on her feet in one swift movement once we were in my living room.

“What the fuck, Noah?” she shouts, “I’m quite capable of walking on my own!” I fold my arms over my chest, raising my eyebrows at her in disbelief. “Really? I’m pretty sure you would’ve wound up on your face if I didn’t literally bring you in here.” “Yes, really! Stop being a fucking dick!” “Then stop acting like a fool and cool it with the drinking!” I holler, throwing my arms out. “Fuck you,” she growls, shoving me in the chest. “You’re treating me like a villain, Noah! It’s not against the law to drink alcohol last I checked.” I snatch her by the wrists, “Stop. Pushing. Me. Or so help me God,” I say through clenched teeth. “You’re right, it’s not—but public intoxication is, Olivia—” “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jolly comes rushing into the living room, “what the actual fuck is going on here?” Nick Ruffilo comes out shortly after, panic written on his face as he takes in the commotion. “Apparently I’m not allowed to drink,” Liv spits out as she leers up at me, jaw tense with anger. “I did not say that. You need to limit yourself because you do some pretty stupid fucking things when you’re drunk,” I fire back at her. She scoffs, “As if you’ve never done anything stupid while drunk—” “I’ve never fallen asleep on a public bench in the middle of the night—” “Alright, that’s enough!” Jolly exclaims, putting himself between us.

Nick wraps his arms around her from behind and pulls her away from me while Jolly guided me into the kitchen by my shoulders. The expression on his face was a cross between anger and curiousity as he waited for me to explain the situation. I sighed, combing my hair back with my fingers in aggravation. "I couldn't get ahold of her," I start, "and later found her passed out on a bench downtown. Drunk, mind you." He cringes, planting his fists on his hips as he nods in understanding. "Alright, yeah, that's...not good." "I'm just worried about her, you know? She's been under so much stress, and she drinks to cope with it. I want to help her, but..." I trailed off with a shrug of my shoulders, not sure what else to say. "There's not much you can do, unless she wants to help herself, Noah. Just be there for her when she needs someone—" "I am there for her!" I snapped, "It's like one minute she wants me to comfort her, the next she literally pushes me away and says she can handle it herself." He puts his hands out, telling me to calm down. "I know you are. I can see clear as day how much you care about her, but getting angry and fighting with her—especially when she's drunk—is only going to make it worse."

I nodded as I absorbed his words. He was right; when drunk, she wouldn't be thinking clearly, therefore my words wouldn't register with her. The only thing that would stick would be my anger, and that's not at all what I wanted. If she developed a fear of me snapping at her, she would never want to confide in me again and that didn't sit well with me. I wanted nothing more than to be her safe place.

"I got her to lie down in your room, Noah," Nick announces as he joins us in the kitchen. "She kicked me out saying she wanted to be alone, but she's still crying." I watched his face fall with concern. "Thanks, man. I'll go check on her," I say with a nod. I made my way towards my bedroom, bracing myself for the worst. I knocked softly before entering, taking note of her body trembling as she whimpered, facing the wall. I felt my heart sink, knowing this was because of me. "Hey," I say softly, sitting at the edge of my bed. "Go a-away," she says in between breaths. "No, that's not happening. I'm sorry for yelling at you, Olivia," I apologized, running a hand down her upper arm. She shoulders my hand away and rolls further into the mattress. I sighed and kicked off my shoes, lying down behind her. "Please don't push me away," I whispered into her hair after placing an arm over her securely. "I'm really sorry. Yelling at you was uncalled for and didn't solve anything."

Her body continues to quake against mine as she remains silent other than her unsteady breaths. I kissed the back of her head and tightened my hold on her. "You don't have to say anything, but I want you to know that no matter how many times you push me away, I'm not going anywhere. I'm stuck to you like glue, Liv. I made a promise to be here as much as I possibly could, and I'm keeping it." I could feel her start to catch her breath, her shakes lessening. "I overstepped and should have never snapped at you like that. It kills me to know that you're upset because of me, and I don't know if I can honestly forgive myself."

"I-I'm just a f-fool," she mumbles. I closed my eyes and sighed with sorrow. "Come here," I say softly, gently tugging on her shoulder to have her roll over. She obliges, burying her face in my chest. "Look at me, please." She cranes her neck and my heart shatters when I see the endless stream of tears spilling from her swollen eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Olivia. You are not a fool, okay?" Her lips tremble as she tries not to cry. "What you did was foolish, but we all make mistakes. The reason I got as mad as I did was because of the danger you put yourself in—you could have been assaulted or wound up in the hospital like Victoria. You understand that, right?" She chokes on a sob, nodding. "It was no excuse for me to say those things and yell at you, and I wholeheartedly apologize for that. I got mad that I couldn't get through to you and you physically pushed me away." "I-I'm sorry," she squeaks out. "I shouldn't have shoved you; you were only trying to help." "Exactly," I give her a soft smile as I swiped away the tears that rolled down her cheek, "I need you to understand that I want you to thrive; I don't want to see you fall deeper into this addiction. I know I can't magically make it disappear, but I want to be able to help you get through it. Every step of the way."

She breaks and starts to cry, burying her face in my chest again. I allowed her to let it out by kneading my fingers into her hair soothingly and kissing the top of her head. I lost count of how many times she apologized until she eventually fell asleep, holding her the whole night.

|Chapter 15|

[opalescent--eye]

This Christmas Party Was So Fun That Now I’m a Communist, by Brennan Lee Mulligan

Highlights:

[I] thought to myself, “This is the most fun I’ve ever seen anyone have. ... This is… so great. This is… completely fucked.”

This party cannot be allowed to happen again. It was too much fun! No human being can justify having that much fun. There is an indirect but tangible connection between my family’s inability to purchase health insurance, and the quality of the hors d’oeuvres at this party. The world that makes my childhood friends go on large, unnecessary detours to get a shot at their dreams is the same world that heaps largely unappreciated splendors on these party-goers. It’s not an intuitive conclusion to draw, but when you think about it, the reason this chocolate truffle tastes so good is that my brother and I went to a state school. The reason this champagne is on the house is that the house is largely on Africa, South America and rural India.

This party is so much goddamned fun and it has to be stopped.

I wondered if I had been too harsh. Perhaps there was some kind of justice to all of this that I, as the malnourished, hayseed-child of the working poor, could not fully comprehend.

In that moment, I knew that I would never again experience a party this fun. Because the next time I was at a party this fun, I’d be burning it to the ground, holding high the banner of the revolution.

--- 

If you had guessed there would be a fortuneteller at this party, you would have been dead wrong. Because there were two fortunetellers at this party.

This party was so insane, extravagant and incredible that the hosts hired not one, but two separate soothsayers. The services of two women capable of piercing space and time with their minds were required for this shindig. Next to one of the three fully-stocked open bars, there was a woman wearing a bird on her head who was reading palms. And downstairs, in a hallway filled with ancient Buddhist art recovered during the Chinese invasion of Tibet, there was a Romani woman giving Tarot card readings. I mean, take your pick, really. Do you prefer the occult prognostications of cartomancy, or the intimate and personal revelations of the mysteries of your own goddamned hand? Because this party had both.

This party was so far off the fucking chain that you could have one of two magic women tell you what was going to happen to you in your future. And if you didn’t like what she said, you could get a second opinion, and never be more than thirty feet away from a fondue pot.

There was also a magician in a tuxedo walking around doing sleight of hand tricks. So to reiterate: Three different wizards were working at this party.

This party was the most fun anyone has ever had. And something needs to be done about it.

I arrived at the party as they were still setting up. The penthouse, located a few blocks from the eastern edge of Central Park, was in a word "palatial." It felt like I had stepped out of the gilded, art deco elevator into the distant palace of some Caliph at the height of the Ottoman Empire, were it not, I should add, for the many Christmas decorations being put up by an army of party planners. Pine garlands the length of city buses, with the circumference of an elephant’s leg, wrapped around marble banisters on staircases that ascended to impossible balconies overlooking Park Avenue. Shelves lined with ancient and powerful scotches, first edition books beyond reading, paintings and sculptures by artists so French that, were I to whisper their names, I would first need to buy a Rosetta Stone app. And all of this was being slathered in artisanal glass ornaments, gilded candles, sprigs of holly and every other thing that turns the darkest part of the year into the hap-happiest season of all. Guys, this party made the trailer for The Great Gatsby look like the strip mall parking lot where two divorced parents meet to exchange their children.

In the scraps and shreds of memory that come to me from that wild night of celebration, I remember certain landmarks. As guests exited an elevator that opened directly into the foyer of the apartment, they were greeted by butlers holding glasses of bellinis, champagne and sparkling water. They walked to a floor of waitered tables and a small dance floor, while being serenaded by a rotating cast of singers and pianists. These areas were overlooked by balconies with performers and entertainers of various stripes and shades, and from these balconies led hallways that arrived at various catered dining rooms and seating areas, all cozy, lovely and intimate, all just the right size to see that, yes, other people were having fun, but not too many other people were having too much fun too close by. And throughout it all, guests were bombarded with trays of lobster, caviar and truffle oil brioche canapés.

This party was like if the Dalai Lama and Elrond Half-Elven owned a castle together, and had decided to throw a birthday party for Santa Claus. More money than I have yet made in my life was spent on this party. It was immediately the most fun I’ve ever had, and within minutes, I was deeply unsettled.

As the immaculately dressed and bejeweled guests wended their way to banquet tables of delicious food and various dance floors, they were lit from not a single actual light bulb. I don’t know when I realized it, but aside from candlelight and the glow of the city through the windows, there was not a single visible source of light in the entire party. “Why do the rich find light bulbs so distasteful?” I thought. Every light had been tucked, hidden or sequestered from view, ensconced in little cubbies or stowed underneath cabinets, so that a warm glow filled everything, and you couldn’t tell how or from where. It became almost maddening as soon as I recognized it. Where is all this light coming from? Is this why I’m poor? Too much direct light?

While I was trying to piece this together, the music had once again changed, and I peered from the balcony where I was standing, to see the hired singer and pianist walk from the small raised stage with its rented Steinway through the doors into a literal servants’ quarters, like in Downton-motherfucking-Abbey. AND THERE WAS A PARTY IN THERE! A separate party for people working at the first party! The performers, jugglers, soothsayers and probably sex-workers that had been hired by the hosts had a separate catering group attending solely to their needs. This party was so dope, it was spawning sub-parties to bolster the spirits of workers for what I’m now calling “The Motherparty.”

I ducked into the servants’ party to discover that one of the singers had a day-job at the New York Metropolitan Opera. This Christmas party was so fucking great, that one of the 16 people they hired to sing in one of the rooms is a professional Opera singer at the Met.

I began to notice how many people were working at this party. There were the many performers and entertainers, and a fleet of photographers, separate from the gentlemen running the rented photo booth, which swarmed all night with beautiful young women immortalizing their splendor. One such woman was photographed while instagramming herself in front of the photo booth, which is maybe how wormholes are created. There were business staff, house staff, building staff, the host’s personal and executive assistants, custodians, and caterers, all of whom disappeared into grey hallways, designed to be ugly but also kind of invisible, a place where the help disappeared to. When you’re rich, you can afford to have sections of your home into which you never go.

As I watched the quick, nervous movements of the help, I began to look at who was actually attending the party. I ate my free lobster and furrowed my brow. These people probably didn’t even call their free lobster “free lobster.” They probably just called it “lobster.”

I watched the beautiful children of the rich mingle and converse. Young, gay men so fabulous that I couldn’t even tell you the most basic elemental details of what they were wearing. Possibly a fabric? Maybe not. It could have been a ceramic. I just don’t have the facts. Some young Ivy League dudes, pupating senators and ambassadors. The young women were gorgeously dressed, adorned with jewels, and so beautiful that they seemed photo-shopped in person. It would be easy to write off these airbrushed debutants as vapid, but they weren’t. They all had sharp, predatory eyes and laughed quickly and with fierce intelligence. They were ubermensches, as much the daughters of their bloodthirsty, corporate fathers as their supermodel mothers. These stunning women would spend the rest of their ball-gowned lives handing out their fathers’ likely ill-gotten fortunes to worthy charities, and going to parties just like this one.

From a distance, it was hard to tell the mothers and the daughters apart. Rich women don’t age, they just desiccate. Their jewelry, hair, gowns, even their posture and attitude all stay the same as their elegant, somewhat more humid daughters. A rich young woman and a rich old woman, standing next to each other, kind of look like a snake having perfectly shed its skin.

The old men were by far the most diverse bunch. Old billionaires wear whatever the fuck they want. One man wore a maroon, velvet, three-piece suit and a paisley cravat, and he must have been sweating in it, but I couldn’t tell because he had doused himself in a cologne that I’m going to call “A Million, Billion Different Kinds Of Fruit, by Calvin Klein.” There were two shaven-headed men of Caucasian descent, wearing black hakama robes and some kind of pendants. They had white socks and sandals, and from the way people were bowing to them, I’m guessing they were some kind of religious officials, but I can’t be quite sure. Whatever faith they practiced, it wasn’t Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Baha’i, Taoism, Shinto, Confucianism, Voodoo, Wicca or the Dreamtime Faith of the Aboriginal Shamans. If I had to guess, I would say they were either members of the Illuminati, or we are living in the Matrix and they are priests from the remaining human city in the real, outer world.

I don’t know what religion they were from. Do we get why that’s scary? Aside from the fact that a vast chunk of my education centered on world religions and mythology, religions really want you to know about them. That’s their whole business model. They tell you why things are the way they are and then you give them money. So the fact that there’s a religion that I’m too poor to know about is deeply troubling.

These rich old billionaires were the kindest, sweetest old gents. In conversations I overheard more than once, a man worth more than my entire extended family (which is Irish and therefore vast and mighty) talked about another man at the party as “just being the sweetest soul,” or referred to a cupcake at a certain café as “sinfully seductive.” And I realized, these men may have been cutthroat sharks before, or they may have inherited their fortunes, but none of that matters now. They won. They won life. They are lions that, having killed enough gladiators, are now left gloriously alive to become old and toothless. The host of the party had an entire wall covered in plaques and trophies. I read most of them, and still couldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Because whatever he had done, he certainly didn’t need to do it anymore. His accomplishments referenced his humanitarianism, his civic heroism and his contributions to culture and civilization. So whether or not this man had worked at Bain Capital gutting companies in the American Heartland didn’t matter, because he had rescued a bunch of Tibetan art and now he was kissing other billionaires on both cheeks and saying, “Tom, I’m in love with you!” because who gives a fuck, I’m rich!

I watched these crazy old holiday wizards and their jeweled scarab wives, their Oxford sons and Cambridge daughters, and thought to myself, “This is the most fun I’ve ever seen anyone have. Louis the XVI would've shit a brick if he'd ever thrown a party this good. This is… so great. This is… completely fucked.”

I began to notice that people were looking at me funny. For a moment I became scared that they realized I was poor. Perhaps I had used the wrong fork, or a moth had flown in lazy spirals out of my wallet, or my toes had popped out of the holes in my shoes. But then I realized it was my expression that was drawing looks. I looked flabbergasted and astounded. And they didn’t.

That’s when I realized it. These motherfuckers weren’t going to the best party of their lives. They weren’t even necessarily going to the best party of their week. Who knows? Maybe one of these plutocrats was sneering at the lack of a third fortuneteller. “No augur divining mysteries from the movement of birds? No oracle breathing poison and screaming prophesies? You call this a Christmas Party!”

Well fuck that!

This party cannot be allowed to happen again. It was too much fun! No human being can justify having that much fun. There is an indirect but tangible connection between my family’s inability to purchase health insurance, and the quality of the hors d’oeuvres at this party. The world that makes my childhood friends go on large, unnecessary detours to get a shot at their dreams is the same world that heaps largely unappreciated splendors on these party-goers. It’s not an intuitive conclusion to draw, but when you think about it, the reason this chocolate truffle tastes so good is that my brother and I went to a state school. The reason this champagne is on the house is that the house is largely on Africa, South America and rural India.

This party is so much goddamned fun and it has to be stopped.

The last singer finished a tear-jerking rendition of Ave Maria, and the DJ came out. A man who looked like a young, handsome Santa Claus wheeled out his holly-studded turntable and then killed it. Every song he played was fucking perfect. Cecilia. Signed, Sealed, Delivered. Rescue Me. This goddamned DJ could do no wrong. And the patricians began to dance.

And oh how they danced. I used to think that only we poor, starving bohemians could truly dance with the hedonism and reckless abandon of our pagan ancestors. I was WRONG, guys. Starving artists don’t dance with reckless abandon. We dance like we’re trying to forget that the rent is past due. We dance to sweat off that last box of Annie’s Mac & Cheese. We dance to trick the endorphins into healing our tired, unkempt bodies.

The rich, however, dance as if possessed by Pan himself. The young and old alike gyrated, wiggled and bounced like they had not a care in the world. Sorry, let me rephrase that. The young and old alike gyrated, wiggled and bounced BECAUSE they had not a care in the world. And it was magical. Every face beamed with glorious jubilation. I saw five separate people fall in love that night, and I know it’s going to work out, because of just how good that party was. It was the most magical night I have ever witnessed, and so help me God, I will toil unyieldingly to ensure it never happens again.

For a brief moment I surveyed the upper balcony. The host and his wife smiled gaily, singing along and dancing. They looked so serene. So happy. And I saw the host turn, and start handing out tip money to the staff. $50 bills flew from his fingers into the waiting hands of the army of party workers. And they thanked him for his kindness. And he was kind. He was a kind man, this white-suited oligarch. In that moment, I wondered if I had been too harsh. Perhaps there was some kind of justice to all of this that I, as the malnourished, hayseed-child of the working poor, could not fully comprehend.

The caterers left the hall, and the DJ stopped.

That’s when I noticed that while the dance party had been happening, a Pinkberry and a Wafels & Dinges had both opened inside the penthouse.

Let me say that again.

A Pinkberry and a Wafels & Dinges both had their grand openings during and inside this party. Two, miniature, satellite restaurants with mobile service stations, serving free food, staffed by uniformed employees, with their full assortment of products, had sprouted up within the span of ten minutes. For every fortuneteller in this party, there was a restaurant in this party. And the choir sang. And the people ate. And the champagne flowed. And the two fortunetellers ordered extra nutella on their wafels & dinges. And the velvet suit fruit man hugged a young gay boy wearing a scarf with the whole Bhagavad Gita written on it and whispered, “We are never, ever going to die.”

In that moment, I knew that I would never again experience a party this fun. Because the next time I was at a party this fun, I’d be burning it to the ground, holding high the banner of the revolution.

Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Fight the Power.

— Brennan Lee Mulligan

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, JULY 31, 2012 If what came out in yesterday’s listings is still available this weekend, we may be giving notice to our extremely rude landlord real, real soon. It was another expanded single-wide. It’s a little small at 720 square feet, but it might be livable enough depending on the layout. If they can ever let Tom have a full weekend off, we can go see it. He’s definitely going to call them this weekend either way. If he has to take some of the days off he’s accumulated, fine. The layout can be more crucial to how much living space you have than the actual square footage, so that’s one reason we’re not going to just write it off without checking it out first.

Don’t know if it’s got AC, a swamp cooler, or dual-paned windows, but here are all the good things it does have and why we’re so eager to check it out. It’s only $1500. It looks WAY nice inside. Super modern. Not sure what year it is, but it was absolutely gorgeous! It’s a 2-bed, 1 ½-bath. No one parks alongside it and it’s in a good location within the park that has a nice clubhouse, pool and spa. The lot it’s on leases for just $400 a month! It would be cheap to cool at that size. It doesn’t have a fridge, dishwasher or washer/dryer, but at that price, we could buy the exact models of OUR choice the day we moved in. We’ve got enough cash to buy it all and it wouldn’t matter if it drained our savings cuz as low as our monthly expenses would be there, we’d save it back up again in 90 days or less. :)

As for long-term expectations in a place like that, hell, we could end up with enough money to buy just about any house anywhere when he retires. :)

Again, the layout is everything in most cases. When we moved into this 500-square-foot place, we moved in with what we had. But with the savings this place would give us, we could afford to furnish it according to size to help make it more livable and spacious.

Got up at 4:30. Not even 20 minutes later the fucking mutts start going off. Has Jesse gone back to work? Well, wherever he is, I doubt he’ll be back anytime soon if he’s taken off that early. This means fairly consistent barking till 9am, then scattered spurts till he gets back. Between the barking, the breakage and the shitty Internet connection, I really hope that if this place isn’t it, we find it real soon! This may not be like the Phoenix or the NHA, but I’m more than ready to go!

Later…

The Internet has been out for over an hour and I have a feeling it’s not coming back anytime soon. Really ready to tell them to fuck off and just do the net by cell till we get out of here. Trying to reason with people who simply refuse to help us does us no good at all. These old wires need to be replaced. Period. But they refuse to spend the time and money with how few people there are out here. When the wires act up out here, just a few people lose service. But in the city, 40-50 people lose it so they keep them maintained there unlike out here.

I have a feeling I’m going to be doing a lot of reading and writing today. I’ll probably do some cleaning, too.

Still feeling rundown with some bouts of lightheadedness. Not much in the way of racing heartbeats or palpitations. I probably shouldn’t share this with anyone, but I just don’t feel like myself at the same time I don’t feel sick or anything. My hip still acts up at times, too. My teeth are the only thing that’s been better lately. I still intend to see a dentist once we’re moved, but the salt and baking soda mix is really helping to keep the dental pain at bay.

Anyway, since I already opened my mouth, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks or believes because I’m pretty sure there’s nothing wrong with me. Could have a bit of a wacky thyroid, which would explain why I have to nearly starve myself to lose weight. Losing weight is supposed to be hard, not damn near impossible. But I’ve already decided to just eat when I’m hungry and allow the scale to do what it wants. I can’t deal with the constant hunger and fatigue it would take to not only get the weight off but to keep it off, too. Do I want to gain 50, 100 or more pounds? No. Absolutely not. But I also don’t want to go through life hungry just to stay where I’m at, and that is so, so much work. Just so much work. So until and if they come out with some magic pill, I’m sure I don’t have to get into how much work and misery would go into actually trying to lose weight and not just maintain it. I’m sick of how every time I think this is finally it and I’m finally going to lose weight, all I end up doing is losing a few pounds that return within a month. Millions of people out there are 50 or more pounds overweight yet they still manage to live life just fine. Well, so can I.

Tom said it looked like I didn’t lose my water this time around like I usually do after periods. Yesterday I felt it throughout every inch of my body. You could see the water in my hands and feet. Today, though, I think most of it is gone. So for the next 20 days, I get to be just skin, bone, muscle and fat. Lucky me.

MONDAY, JULY 30, 2012 Nane appears to have checked out one of my blog posts, but Wissal, the I-know-your-secret girl, hasn’t accepted my friend invite on Jango yet.

That was easy. I tried calling Paula back but it said that mobile phone was no longer in service. Really wish she would just get with the times and email me instead.

What’s not easy is living here. Today’s problem is yet another leak. I’m going to call Jesse at 6:00 about it. There’s not enough light yet anyway. The pressure gauge is leaking and spraying a stream of water. Tom discovered it this morning and says Jesse will spot it right away. I’m just so fucking sick of all the problems in this damn place! I was really hoping they’d hold off till we moved, but even if we’re only here two more months, we couldn’t possibly go that long without some kind of problem. Hell, we can’t even seem to go a month without a problem here and I am just so, so fucking sick of it! I cannot wait to get the hell out, and like I said, I’m ready to settle. We can’t get what we want anyway, so let’s just pick the best of the settlements and go. I’m not staying here another 6 months to a year till we can clear up our credit and get a nicer place.

Really hope our own place doesn’t have this many problems. That’s part of why I was hoping for a place no older than the '80s, but I think we’re going to end up with a '70s place. At least that’s a decade above this '60s place. Maybe after retirement, we can hit the '80s.

Damnit! Just tried to call up there but got no answer. Oh well. It’s his shit of a trailer, and our number will show up on his Caller ID display for him to call me back when he can. Maybe he just got up and is taking a dump.

He just called back. He’ll be down soon.

Later…

Wissal. Interesting name, huh? Well, Miss I Know Your Secret hasn’t accepted my friend request on Jango, so I simply replied to her message and asked her to be kind enough to divulge it. :) I’m pretty sure she lives in Washington, but I don’t know where exactly.

Nane urged us to hold out a little longer and don’t settle for any place we have doubts about, especially since it will probably be our home for a while. She’s got a point. I’d hate to go into a place with any doubts or discomfort. However, we’re not exactly rich here so we’re going to have to settle at least a little. Hopefully not for the dumpiest dump around, but something we can work with easily enough that also won’t be biting off more than we can chew.

Jesse fixed the leak quickly enough and now we’re good to go until the next problem a week or two from now.

SUNDAY, JULY 29, 2012 Both of us have been catching up on our sleep. When I got up at 4am to find Tom had turned the sound machines on I could tell it had been a noisy night. I’m just glad I slept through most of the circus up the hill.

The heaviest part of my period has set in so I may opt out of going to Walmart. As Tom said, we can go anywhere else we want to go for fun later on.

That comment and user I couldn’t find the other day on MyOpera turned out to be a spammer who was removed. They came at me again from Senegal with a similar u/n and a new account they created which was also removed. Then I had to restrict even my photo albums from anonymous comments. It really pisses the shit out of me that MO has become so overrun with spammers and scammers that I can’t allow for anonymous comments. I don’t know why MO is such a magnet for them, but lately, there are tons of spammers that leave their email addresses saying they’ll “show you their pictures.” I never could get this one. Why would anyone want to see pics of someone they don’t even know?

I’m also sick of getting email scams from phishers claiming to be from every law enforcement agency in the country. The only scam that seems to finally be getting old is the various lottery scams.

Later…

“I know your secret.” That was the statement I received in the form of feedback on MD. Well, do tell, whoever you are!

I ran their addy and found them on Jango. So I logged in and friended them. If they accept, I’ll ask them to humor me by letting me in on my “secret.” It seems Aly and I have gotten that same exact “question” on Ask. Anyway, the chick appears to be young but doesn’t look like anyone I’ve seen before. Don’t know her location either.

I gotta remember to call Paula tomorrow. She left a couple of messages.

Found an expanded single-wide for 6K in an ideal location within the park it’s in. It’s way ideal because it’s at the end of a row. That way you not only don’t have neighbors on both sides of you but no one parks directly next to you either being on the particular end that it’s on. It’s only 750 square feet but looks livable enough. It’s not perfect, but it’s functional enough and doesn’t look nearly as ugly as that other place I mentioned. It’s got 1 ½ baths which is what I’d prefer as opposed to 2 baths, cuz we only want an extra toilet and not an extra tub or shower. The clubhouse and pool look really nice, too.

Personally, I think we should just grab the cheapest 2-bed we can find that isn’t a total dump and that isn’t in a questionable location within the park and just go. Why wait around for what we can’t have? We can’t have first best with our credit and I don’t want to stick around another year or two to save even more. Life is about settling anyway, so within reason, I think we should just go for it and get out of here. I’m sick of this place! The lack of space, the shitty Internet connection, Jesse and his dogs…

Tom thinks August 1st will be our last full payment to him. I hope so! September would be an ideal time to get out of here when you think about it, cuz that’s when the outdoor projects, barking, and chainsawing escalate.

Tom said he didn’t turn the sound machines on last night cuz the dogs started barking but just cuz he thought I’d like them to be on.

Lately, I have been having bouts of lightheadedness, shakiness and a racing heart. I also spent the first half of today hungry as hell. No matter what I ate, nothing filled me up. I don’t understand what’s causing this. I don’t feel sick or anything like that.

Why do so many people around here drive so slowly? It’s amazing how many creepers there are in a state you’d think most people would drive like maniacs in. Well, I don’t know how SoCal is, but up here in NorCal they sure love to hold you up. It seems everywhere we go there’s someone slowing us down that’s going 5-10 MPH under the speed limit.

Made out pretty well at Target and spent $50 on new sports bras and nail polish. The sports bras are girls’ size large, and as big as I am they fit great. They’re super comfortable but definitely not meant to be worn as outerwear because of the thin material. Not sure how much support they’ll give these big hooters when working out with the thin material and straps, but I love the comfort they bring. Even a medium would fit well if my weight keeps dropping. I got one in neon orange with purple straps and the other is an inversion of that one; purple with neon orange straps.

For nail polish, I got blue crackle nail polish, frosty royal blue polish, green magnetic polish, hot pink polish, and a hot pink nail art pen.

When I first applied the blue crackle I was like, what the fuck is this shit? It went on streaky, almost like weak nail polish and dried up with a dull matte finish. In the store, I grabbed it cuz I liked the color without reading the words “crackle overcoat.” Then I read up on it online and realized that these things weren’t meant to be worn alone. When I put a thin coat on top of the hot pink, it made it appear like I was wearing blue polish with bright random streaks of pink. It was so damn cool! Because it’s dark, it will look great on any light color. I’ll definitely want a light one some time to put over dark colors.

Had I realized how the crackle polish was meant to be used I probably wouldn’t have gotten the nail art pen. Or the magnetic polish. It’s a rather dismal shade of green that looked better in the store and the effects are rather subtle. It’s still kind of cool even though there are little clumps in it. That’s the iron particles so that the magnet can create the wave pattern.

SATURDAY, JULY 28, 2012 Here’s my home/park attitude for today, which has changed somewhat since yesterday. For better or for worse is a matter of opinion. Despite the money savings, I’m not as thrilled at the idea of taking the dump I recently mentioned. Money to fix it up or not, it is just too ugly and the location is iffy. If the little canal we lived near up in OR could breed such nightmarish spiders, what might this big lake breed for us? Canals and lakes just aren’t like oceans.

I would have to see more about the home and the park to decide if renting this place we found going for $850 would be worth it or not, but I would say it probably wouldn’t be. This is mostly because I don’t like the idea of paying more than we do here. If we’re going to do that we might as well do it with something as new and as nice as the “octangle” house. That’s another thing that’s changed. Now that we know the lot that house is on is cheaper than the triple-wide, I’d go for that first cuz it’s newer, nicer, has a garage, has a pool, and has more reasonable square footage.

We either spend money on something nicer or we spend it to fix up something that’s not as nice. I’m still sick of old dumps and even if we got something that was comparable in cost to this place, saving $500 a month is still a lot of money when you consider that we couldn’t even save 5 cents for the longest time and that’s without even trying. With a little effort, we could save around $700 a month. So it takes us longer to get the things we want for it, but that list would be a lot smaller if we don’t have to replace snot-green sinks, neon piss counters, and diarrhea-brown ovens. Plus paint and recarpet.

I had a dream last night that Tom was all psyched because he got “approved” for something that someone else insisted was just a dream. Meaning that he would never get approved for whatever it was he got approved for. Let’s hope that means we’ll get the house we want. One that isn’t so old and dumpy but still lets us save $500 or more monthly. The biggest thing is always having 3 grand in savings. That’s become our new magic number. Anything above and beyond that is unnecessary and would be seen as a bonus.

For the first time in my life, I am glad for America’s obsession with blacks and the way they are so favored so much of the time. I’d just hate to see Romney get elected for two reasons. One, Mormons are crazy just like Tom said. They’re serious extremists who see sin in everything. You cannot have one single conversation with them without having to hear about God, sinners, and all kinds of other crap that either couldn’t possibly be true or that we can’t possibly know the answers to. Two, Republicans don’t want gays or women to have any rights. They are big-time haters and control freaks who will do anything to force their beliefs on others, and if anyone has a problem with my saying so, fine. Just click on out and into someone else’s blog. It’s that little X up at the top right corner of the screen for you Windows users and the little red dot in the upper left corner for you Mac folks. :)

Tom’s on his way out to work and doesn’t give a shit if he’s late or not. Not after the way they’ve been treating him. They let him come home a few hours earlier so he could get 6 hours of sleep instead of 3, but we wish they’d stop jerking him around and giving him so much OT. The man needs a life for once. But as he said, he’ll just go collect his $20 an hour to just stand there, since he doesn’t expect there to be much work.

“Then why are they having you come in?” I asked him and he said they’re just a bunch of idiots.

I asked him if he thought it could be personal. Hey, my husband is white and older after all, but he doesn’t think so.

I got up at 10pm after 6 hours of sleep, was still kind of tired, and ended up dozing on and off for a couple of hours. It was so nice napping like that late at night with no sound machines and hearing nothing but the train off in the distance. Tom’s snoring got a little annoying at times, but I realized that maybe the way to get used to sleeping with sounds is to actually do it. Not cut the sound machine altogether. I’m too light of a sleeper to do that. But when we move I may start off with just the regular sound machine and see if that alone will be enough. After all, there shouldn’t be motorcycles and other insanely loud vehicles going through there. At least not nearly as often as they come and go from the Jes pest’s place.

Gonna get this posted before the engine gunning, loud motors and barking start up, then it’s off to do the bathroom, laundry and the grocery list.

FRIDAY, JULY 27, 2012 Had a dream I was in Nane’s apartment building standing just outside her door. Although I never saw her in the dream I assumed it was her place because all the signs around me were written in German. It appeared to be a big building and what I was doing there is beyond me. I guess I was either waiting for her to come home or come to the door.

I will never eat another banana again. They make me too gassy. On top of that, I was extremely lightheaded, hot, and had a racy heart for a while yesterday. Too much dieting, I guess. The older I get the more my body rebels against even light dieting.

I am so, so happy now! Although it’s hectic and frustrating at times we are really having fun researching various adult communities and picking out potential places to live. I’m really excited about our latest idea but want to cover the not-so-nice things first.

They’re really jerking Tom around at work and it’s starting to really piss me off. He’s not too happy about it either. I feel not just bad for him, but bad for me as well because when they put him out it puts me out too, not that they give a shit.

He was really liking the second shift and working just 8 hours a day even if it meant a little less money despite the shift differential. Well, he’s hoping it’s just temporary and just long enough to train this woman he’s to train because next week when he returns to first shift on Monday. I guess the woman was driving the forklift, is really fat and won’t lose the weight, so now he’s gotta train her to do what he was doing or something like that.

To make matters even worse, he has to work this Saturday after working late into Friday night. So he’s got to run home at 11:30 at night, catch a few-hour nap, then run back to work at 6am for 8-10 hours, WTF?! We appreciate all the money, but it’s going to really make the move harder if he has to stay on days. He has many days off accumulated, but the more of those days he has to take off to move, the less chance we have of going on vacation. We might have to just fly to Hawaii instead of cruise there.

Because of this, we decided we deserve to really treat ourselves on Sunday after he’s had a chance to catch up on his sleep and make that a fun day. So what if we blow 2 or 3 hundred bucks, we decided, as he can earn that back in just a day or two tops. So we’ll probably go out to Denny’s real early in the morning, then hit Walmart, but not just for groceries. We’ll get fun things as well. As in split up (so we can each visit the departments we like) and just help ourselves to what we want.

Another huge disappointment was what I heard in the bathroom yesterday. It shocked the shit out of me and at first I was confused. I thought, why would Whiskey be down here barking in back? As noisy as they are when Jesse’s out, they’re dead quiet when he’s home or when they’re roaming the land. When they walk by they just walk by. They don’t go barking by or getting into things or anything. They simply walk by without a sound.

Then recognition hit me and I remembered who that bark belonged to. That was the bark of one of the dogs the people in back would let run loose. I was so, so bummed out to hear that, but not because I’m afraid of them. The problem is that they’re so fucking loud. They don’t walk by quietly at all. They come barking onto the land, and when they’re right outside the place, especially with the window closed, it’s loud as hell. I used to see them standing around out there barking at absolutely nothing at all. I am so, so disappointed. With all the people who complained about those people for letting their dogs attack their dogs, chickens and goats, I thought they were gone years ago. That’s what Tom says, but I know what I heard. The owners probably figured that since it’s been a while maybe they can let the beasts run loose and this time no one will mind. Well, I still have the number of the complaint line Jesse gave me and if I start hearing and actually seeing those damn mutts, I’ll mind and I’ll be sure to give them a call. I’m not going to sit and listen to these things bark by or just stand outside the windows barking at nothing. Jesse’s mutts are bad enough. One of the dogs is missing a back leg and another is a pit bull. Those are one of the nastiest breeds of dogs there are.

Later…

The Iceberg Lotus nail polish I have on my toes never fails to dazzle me every time I put it on. It is as beautiful as a color can get that’s far from pink, and it’s about as far away from pink as a color can get. It’s like a bluish-green. Or is it a greenish-blue? It’s hard to say, but I can easily say it just may be my third favorite color.

Swapped messages with my German hottie today. It’s hot and humid there, but she’s enjoying it while it lasts. German summers aren’t long.

Found a nice site called Nulu that’s great for advanced Spanish speakers to get their Spanish Spain-ready, even if they’ve got a decade and still may not end up there for sure. I may be knowledgeable and fluent for a non-native speaker, but there’s always room for improvement. There are always more obscure words to learn and I can improve my listening skills by listening to different accents. Some are harder to understand just like some people who speak English can be harder to understand. Yo no siempre intiendo (I don’t always understand).

We got a secured credit card with credit of $500 on it to start helping to boost our credit, and we’re getting fonder of the idea of going with cheap and uglier as opposed to nicer and newer for a couple of reasons. One is to make it exactly what we want it to be, and then the obvious reason; the money savings, since it would be on a cheaper piece of land. I’m also dying to do more wall tats like what I did on the dresser and headboard.

Any and every place is going to have its pros and cons with both the inside and the outside, but if we got that triple-wide, for example, the expenses would be comparable to what they are here after the place was paid off. So we could still save $500 - $700 a month comfortably enough.

But saving money has made me greedy and want to save even more. With this ugly-as-hell dump, we could save around a grand a month. I’m only sharing the link to it with my utmost of closest friends in case we do end up living there. So that means only Andy, Maliheh, Nane and Aly will see it. They should feel honored and special:)))

When I say it’s ugly, I mean it’s UGLY! Whoever designed it had the EXACT opposite taste in colors I have. The outside is bright and colorful and feminine with a sunny yellow exterior and pink flowerbed. The color of the oven alone makes me want to cry, and the tub and sinks are just sickening. Even the damn toilet seats match all that damn paneling I wish to hell had never been invented!

But when you know that in 6 months or less you could recarpet, paint, wallpaper and get rid of the institutional gray carpet, the snot green tub and sinks, the diarrhea brown oven, the puke brown walls, and the neon piss countertops, the money that can be saved living on a $500-a-month lot as opposed to a $765 one, is damn appealing.

These modulars are usually pretty black and white. Meaning, you will usually find single-wides like this that are too small, or bigger ones that start at around 15K. This ugly place is the cheapest 2-bed, 2-bath we’ve found so far. It’s $6500. I also like the square footage better on this one which is just over 1100. 1000-1400 is reasonable for us, but the triple-wide is almost 1800. I’d rather too much space than too little and I would still prefer the triple-wide over this thing, but it does have some potential as ugly as it is.

Unlike the park the triple-wide is in, this park has a pool. We checked it out via satellite and there’s nothing around it that could end up being a problem. There are just the freeway and the lake that wraps around most of it. Some of the lakeside homes are really nice and they have docks and boats. Those would probably be pretty expensive. There’s also a KOA near it, but not close enough to be a problem. Car stereos shouldn’t be an issue cuz there’s nowhere to go, so people wouldn’t be cutting through the park. Once you enter the park it’s like entering a maze with many dead ends. They all lead you to various parts of the park with no way out.

I don’t like the location within the park nearly as much as the triple-wide. No doubt about that much. I’d worry I wouldn’t sleep well there when I was on nights, but I would think that that’s about as bad as an adult park could get. So if I could sleep there, I could sleep in any adult park anywhere. But still, I don’t like how the people to the left would park right alongside us or how close it is to the street that isn’t at the end of the dead-end I’d prefer to be on. What we saw across the street is a little worrisome, too. We suspect that since it has a little parking lot and a dumpster (that’d be an eyesore to look out and see) the park maintenance people may work or live there. Lastly, I don’t want people camped outside my window gabbing all day whether I was up or not, or rummaging through storage sheds.

It is so appealing yet such a turn-off at the same time! Wish we could spend a few days/nights in different places to see what it’s like. With the way people are so company-happy, the thought of being jolted awake by tons of car doors does not sit well with me at all.

We’re both torn between a nicer more expensive place and a cheaper place that isn’t as nice but leans more toward the money saver. The problem isn’t that we couldn’t afford to make payments on something we couldn’t afford to buy outright, the problem is getting places being sold by realtors to approve us even though our credit score isn’t that great. But regardless of what the home costs, it would be nice to be on a lot that’s $400 - $500 a month instead of $750 - $850. It’s just that the cheaper lots are the ones the dumpier places are housed on.

Tom thinks that we haven’t found the house that’s going to be ours yet and that if he had to guess, it’s a park-owned home that isn’t advertised online. The parks just don��t have time to maintain sites online so you have to drive through the parks and see what for-sale signs you can spot.

If we do end up in that place, though, it’ll feel like a palace compared to this place, just with ugly colors. We’d also need to buy a refrigerator right away. But to be able to easily afford the front-loading washer I’ve always wanted in this place is still mighty tempting. I’d just worry about being able to sleep there during the daytime. Tom said we could cushion the bedroom floor if we needed to with thick padding and I asked what good that would do since it’s a vibration and not just a sound (when people slam car doors). He said car engines vibrate a lot but you don’t feel it cuz it’s mounted against rubber instead of the frame of the car. Well, I guess it’s that same idea. There are other things that can be done to soundproof a room, but I’d rather not have to. I’ve been soundproofing this and adding sound machines to that long enough!

I feel like this searching has been going on forever! But as Tom reminded me, while I’ve been impatient and wanting to move on, he hasn’t even been 55 for a month yet. Still, I hope we find something soon. I just want to get out of here and on with life already! But the longer it takes the more money we save.

THURSDAY, JULY 26, 2012 Got to listen to the damn mutts for a little bit this evening on a weeknight of all nights. I was worried he’d be gone overnight so I couldn’t enjoy a movie later on in peace (if I could stay online long enough), but I heard a car door slam shortly after 11:00. He’s the only one I can hear around here, so it had to be him. Plus it’s been quiet for 45 minutes now.

Dealing with this shit for two decades has got me so fed up that I don’t see how I wouldn’t lose it at the next place if dogs left outdoors unattended to bark up a storm continues to be an issue for us there as well. I will literally go over and kick the thing to death. Or at least have a helluva time keeping myself from doing just that as dogs have more rights than humans unless you’re not white. They’d put me in jail for years for that. But complaining to the owner either makes things worse or gets nothing accomplished. They’ll either blow up in my face like they did in Phoenix and make my life a living hell, or they’ll just give me all kinds of lame excuses, “There’s nothing we can do about it.” “Oh, but he’s a good dog and doesn’t bite.” “That’s just what dogs do. Babies cry, dogs bark.”

Yeah, and the pushed-to-the-limit sometimes snap.

The law wouldn’t give a shit because they’re more interested in what people have to say as opposed to what they let their mutts do, and God help me if they’re not white because they will use their race/nationality as a crutch and it will be guaranteed to work in their favor. Therefore, I will simply end up looking like someone who’s picking on them for their color and not for their refusal to control their dogs.

My hip is better today. I’m taking a couple of days off from working out, though I don’t know if I can stand to take the whole week off Tom recommends. I’d probably gain weight if I did even if I stuck to my diet, which is going very well lately now that I’m doing it right. I didn’t realize the protein was having such negative effects on me. It’s also better to go 3 hours between snacks and meals instead of 2 when I can stand to do so. I’m PMSing now so hunger levels are up a bit and it’s hard to pinpoint my exact weight with all the water I’m carrying.

Tom finally drove the forklift at work. He said he was a little nervous at first since it was something new. He described how it works and how he wears a harness that’s attached to a cable and all that. He goes up as high as 25’. That’s a scary thought! But he said it’s more dangerous to things around him than it is to him.

Later…

I went to bed hoping I’d “see” where we may move to in my dreams. Well, I was somewhere, in some house, but can’t remember it to save my life!

Then I got lost in Italy. I was there with my mother of all people. We sat down in a large and crowded dining area in some mall with some other woman we may or may not have met there. For some reason, I decided to wander around and see some shops. Maybe I wasn’t hungry or maybe I thought it’d be a while before someone took our order.

I found myself in a doll shop and decided I needed one as a souvenir even though I’d quit collecting dolls years ago. I pulled a tiny, old and beat-up vinyl doll from a bin and asked how much it cost more out of curiosity than interest. I was told it was 21 cents, and why we were speaking English and not Italian is beyond me.

Then I picked up a larger doll made of all porcelain. I found it weird that her hairline extended so far down her forehead that it came to right above her eyebrows.

I placed the doll back and returned to the diner. Only my mother and the other woman were gone. A slow panic began to rise within me. I knew that if they didn’t return I might never find them because I had no idea where to even begin to look. So that’s how I awoke, lost and looking for mommy at age 46.

TUESDAY, JULY 24, 2012 Alison confirms she hasn’t been on Ask in days, so it isn’t her that’s been asking the mixture of simple and polite to rude and religious questions unless I don’t have the clue that I think I have as far as who’s crazy and who’s not. Oh, I know for a fact that Molly and Kim are crazy, but is anyone else out there crazy and two facing me that I’m not aware of?

I would still be willing to bet that today’s poorly spelled, “Have you asked for forgiveness lately” came from Molly. When Kim brings up God it’s to tell you He hates you. When Molly brings up God it’s to tell you things like how He’ll be nicer to you if you’re nicer to others.

Yeah, I should be asking God to forgive me for refusing to be their friend, all right. rolls eyes I have a two-strikes-you’re-out rule. Nane dumped me once. I forgave her when she wanted to make up. If she ever chooses to end the friendship again, that’s the way it stays. This is my rule with everyone and I don’t care how damn good-looking you may be. But Kim and Molly are far from good-looking, so that makes it all the easier not to want to associate with them.

Aly says it’s hard to say if Molly’s still reading my journal or not. She doesn’t think Molly would be smart enough to disable cookies beforehand and more than likely she believes in her mind that if she leaves me alone (at least in ways I can see) I’ll be more likely to want to talk to her the next time she reaches out to me.

Worst of all she says the sick cock she has to work with is still harassing her. She and a couple of others are getting a restraining order against him tomorrow and says she doesn’t understand how this cock can be allowed to work where 3 people are taking legal action against him and fears the restraining order will make things worse.

Sure it will. When you show some sick fuck that he can keep his job and stay out of jail no matter how many people he assaults, threatens, stalks and harasses, of course they’re going to retaliate when someone tries to stop them. Until this cock actually kills someone, the shit’s not going to stop.

And people wonder why I have no respect for law enforcement and no faith in God!

It just hit me that Molly may be going to my other blog that I can’t track. I started posting the first 4 months of this year and some of it mentioned her and her shit. That may’ve prompted the “Have you asked for forgiveness lately” thing.

Later…

That strange noise I heard the other night was thunder after all. We had an unexpected storm that’s rare for July blow on through here, but it was mostly thunder and lightning and hardly any rain. It only lasted a few hours and we only got a drizzle.

Ok, you God lovers out there! This entry may offend some of you so don’t say I didn’t warn you up front. If you read this and get all upset, remember you chose to read it, so I don’t want no complaints or anything like that after I made this clear. Disagree if you will, but don’t expect to change my beliefs or edit this entry.

I was watching this horrific case on Hulu about this guy who killed his girlfriend and then nearly decapitated his 3-year-old daughter. snorts with disgust And people believe God is good? Well, I’m sorry but I wish people would wake the fuck up and quit bullshitting themselves! I try my best to let people think, do and believe as they will so long as it’s not harming anyone, but in cases like this you just want to shake some of them at times! No good, loving God would allow something like this to happen. This can only mean one of two things. Either God’s a real asshole or there’s a separate entity that is and it has a helluva lot more power than God has.

Either way, I guess most of us have to tell ourselves what sounds best in order to cope with this big bad world. Telling yourself something far beyond your control may have it in for you as well as an awful lot of others out there may be true but it’s anything but a comforting thought. People want to believe what they want to hear. So what do you do? You tell yourself God is good and that He loves everybody. Then you close your eyes to everything else. But again, we all gotta do what we gotta do to get by. For me it’s time spent with my husband and doing my hobbies; not telling myself there’s a guardian angel out there waiting to catch me if I fall. I’ve fallen many times in life and while I may’ve survived, no one caught me when I fell. And no one’s gonna catch me in the future either.

So the next time you want to tell yourself that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, you might want to think of all the little kids out there who could only stand by helpless as hell and utterly horrified while those who were supposed to love and protect them brutally murdered them instead. Yeah, that little 3-year-old sure got a helluva lot more than she could handle when Daddy slit her throat. Ah, but God is good, right?

On a happier and more exciting note, we’re looking forward to the 3rd! That’s when we’ll have more money than we’ll need to officially get the ball rolling toward our new home. Just don’t know if we should go for older and cheaper or newer and more expensive. We could afford both. It’s just that we won’t be able to save a grand or more a month if we go with the latter.

My hip is still bugging the hell out of me at times. It’s like it’s taken over my teeth and I still don’t know what’s wrong with it.

Tom’s now up to $14.33 regular time and $21.50 OT. The funny thing is that his computer knowledge is the reason he’s paid more than everyone else (they make $10) yet they’ve never had him working on computers.

MONDAY, JULY 23, 2012 Got up at 8pm to find Tom, who’s usually in bed by then, wide awake and at his computer. A split second of panic went through me as I remembered how he stayed up to tell me he’d been laid off the last time around. Instead, he told me that while it may only be temporary, he and a couple of others will be starting on second shift tomorrow and getting a little bonus for it. That’s great! Second or third shift always makes it easier to do things that need to be done during regular business hours. Things like moving, going to dentists, etc. So he’s going to stay up till midnight since he has to work from 2:30 - 11:00.

Really hope this is a good sign that something up there (Dad?) is helping to pave the way home for us and line things up in our favor. If it is, then the move is getting close and I should start getting more info from my dreams.

Not that I plan to change my mind, but I had a disturbing thought about these “adult communities” that say only one has to be 55. Well, what’s to say we couldn’t end up next to a woman with a 10-year-old and an older BF or husband? Or how about a young woman with a couple of 4-year-olds living with an older parent? I don’t know if there’s a limit on the number of residents. I guess it varies from community to community. But most parents are single these days and this is totally the kind of shit luck we would have ending up next to a couple of preschoolers home and outside screaming all day long. But until I too am 55, we can’t go to an all-55 and up community.

Tom thinks we’ll get next to all adults. I sure hope so and that they don’t live outside from sunup to sundown, but this is a relatively warm climate. Therefore I’m expecting people to be outdoors more than indoors. But if they can carry on like civilized human beings while they’re at it and tend to their yard work when it needs it and not every single day just for the fun of it, we’ll have it made.

So I get a “how be everything going for you deary?” on Ask and my first thought is Aly. But then I saw that Molly had answered a few questions and had to reblock her yet again (I don’t know how she keeps coming unblocked even when her u/n doesn’t change) so it could’ve been her. By asking a pleasant and simple question like that she can know I would answer in the same manner and then get to “feel” like we’re buddies. Still, I check her account every day to make sure it’s blocked, even though she could come at me anonymously when I have that enabled.

I asked Aly (who I hope is ok) if it was her that asked that. I also asked if she thought Molly could be dodging my tracker but still reading my blog for some reason, even though she’s never seemed to care about trackers before. If anything I think she liked being seen.

As funny as it may sound I almost miss her faithful viewings, though I also don’t need the constant prying eyes of someone I dislike.

Later…

Tom made it till nearly 11, and I ate nearly 2 hours before I planned on eating, but close enough.

Upon screening old journals for publishing on MD, I looked back on a lot of the shit that happened back east with disgust. Particularly the legal trouble I got into. I’m disgusted, ashamed and embarrassed both at myself and at the South Deerfield pigs. How could I have not only done something as stupid and as pointless as prank calls, but how could I have been so goddamn naïve when it came to the pigs?! Shit, that was worse than naïve; that was downright dumb! Why couldn’t I see through the pigs’ utterly phony as hell “friendly” disguise? Was I that lonely and desperate for positive attention or something? Well, I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but despite the fact that yes, I broke the law, the pigs ought to be ashamed and disgusted with themselves for the way they carried on with their lies and other bullshit. I’m as embarrassed for them as I am for myself and even though it was over 20 years ago it’s sad and even scary to know that you’ve got scum like that who were and are supposed to “protect and serve.” Not “lie and manipulate.” I’m just sick of the double standards! They can speed all they want, they can lie all they want, and they are literally above the law they’re supposed to abide by! Well, I don’t ever intend to break the law again. At least not knowingly or intentionally. However, if I’m ever taken advantage of like that ever again by any so-called authority figure(s), I swear I’ll be the richest chick in whatever town I’m living in at the time when I get through with them!

Now here’s where it gets really weird, although in my favor. Definitely in my favor. Back east I had to go to court – IDK – maybe 6 to 8 times. All for prank calls and nothing else. However, when I lived in South Deerfield it was the first time I got in trouble in two different towns at once (Greenfield and Northampton). Of all the Springfield charges I can remember, I got in trouble for pranking 1 stranger, the crisis center, an old friend named Jenny, and 2 cops. I didn’t even know one of them was a cop, and the other was married to an old boss/friend of mine and I guess I just didn’t care what his occupation was. I was targeting his wife for stabbing me in the back, not him. The other pig, not surprisingly, had me arrested and came to tell me I was “lucky he didn’t know where I lived” when I was by myself in a small holding cell.

Here’s my big question: Why were all but one of the 7 cases dismissed??? The only one that I ended up being thrown on probation for was Greenfield and even that “faded away” when I moved. All they wanted were monthly forms stating my current address. Ok, so I’ve been known to have both good and bad influences on the outcomes of some things in a way that falls into the psychic category, but how could even I have influenced 6 plaintiffs, 2 being cops, not to show up in court? Clearly, someone kept getting me off. Why didn’t I see this before? There’s no way they all could’ve said “what the hell” and failed to show up. Nor were the cases dropped cuz they felt sorry for me for being poor and on disability. Nor was it cuz they thought I was cute. Someone with some serious clout had to have gotten all these cases dismissed.

I do remember something weird that maybe had to do with a lawyer I was related to. Someone named Jimmy. If you go to the police station or are picked up on a weekend with a default warrant out on you (there was one out on me at the time for failing to appear for Jenny), they’re supposed to hold you all weekend and bring you to court on Monday morning instead. Well, when Kim drove me to the SPD for calling that cop Laurie (ok so 3 cops I picked on, though I didn’t exactly “pick on” Laurie. I called, I hit on her, she took it wrong, then she used her badge against me) the sergeant we spoke to that night said he had better things to do than waste time on my calls and dispute with Laurie and that’s when he mentioned this lawyer. If I ever met him, I don’t remember it. Then I was ROR’d out of there on a weekend of all times and ordered to appear in court for Jenny. I did. Then the case was… yeah, you guessed it… dismissed.

I also remember being in South Deerfield on the phone with my sister one night and telling her I wasn’t sure whether or not I should let Mom and Dad in on what was going on. She suggested they might already know about it. Well, unless they “hired” Kim to report what was going on with me, maybe I did have this lawyer relative who kept getting me off, but that couldn’t get me off with Greenfield because it was out of his territory.

Kim was oddly afraid to address an envelope to my folks one time. I don’t remember why I wanted her to send them something for me. This was after I moved out west. I think it was some joke that had to do with something I printed from the computer when the internet and all that was still relatively new, though I fully intended to eventually let them know it was me behind it. I sent the thing to Kim and asked one night over the phone if she sent it down to them. She had said something like, “Yeah, I had a friend write out the envelope.” I asked why she would do that since they’d never seen her handwriting and she said you never know. But she should know. They only met her a couple of times, they were never in her apartment, and so they shouldn’t have ever seen her handwriting.

I guess that, and whoever was calling me after I was charged and whoever seemed to know some of my movements for a while in South Deerfield, will forever remain a mystery.

Life sure is weird at times. There I was getting off when I was guilty and going down when I wasn’t on the other side of the country. It was like Phoenix ended up being my karma, though that doesn’t make me any less pissed about it or the situation any less wrong. No one should do time for something they didn’t do, or do a sentence fit for someone who beat the crap out of someone when all they really did was something so petty and harmless in comparison. Yeah, doing half a year and losing thousands of dollars for a letter I didn’t write was a huge step above and beyond getting off for doing something that at worst, was highly annoying.

SUNDAY, JULY 22, 2012 OMG, what the hell was that? I just heard something that sounded like it could’ve been thunder or a large animal or person either crossing the porch or running across the planks in back (the trailer is set against a cliffside). Although the wind chimes are sort of active, July isn’t the time of year here for thunder. It really sounded more like footsteps running, but who the hell would be traipsing around in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? And dumb enough to make that much noise in an area where most people have guns. We’re not armed, but pretty much everyone else is around here.

And what was that I heard a couple of hours ago? That one sounded more like it was inside the place, sort of like the floor creaking. I thought Tom got up for some reason, but he didn’t.

Ok, so maybe this is not just paranoid of me but downright insane, but I still live in fear of old enemies hunting me down and harming me. Oftentimes what has worked for us in the past doesn’t always work for us again in the future. So if you once victimized someone through the law, but the law finally saw through at least one of you enough to kick your ass out of law enforcement and vindicate the real victim in the case, why not screw them outside of the law instead? Especially if you may be pissed off over someone’s “testimony” that helped expose you for who you are and get the word out about you? Whether you have been or are presently in law enforcement, you should be able to pull some strings and find practically anyone you want. Then with or without your sick little buddies, lovers or whoever the hell they may be to you, why not go visit them if you feel they’re that worth spending the time and energy on, right? Gosh, I hope not!

After Tom helped me figure out what the hell was blocking my computer from logging onto Twitter, I’ve now shared the link with Nane as well, but no one else. I know Andy and Aira would like me to add them, but I’d rather keep it just for Maliheh and Nane (because they don’t tweet) and not have to worry about annoying or being annoyed by overtweeting. I can always change my mind later on if I want to. Another reason I don’t want to give the account link to just anyone is cuz of Molly. Even when I was careful not to post new links, like my Ask account, Aly and others who she also stalks would post theirs and she would find me through them.

SATURDAY, JULY 21, 2012 Tom just went to bed to catch up on his sleep and tomorrow he’s going to enjoy his only day off this week. He said I don’t need to be with him, but next weekend he’s going to drive through the most desirable parks and decide who he’s going to call. I’ll probably be with him, though. My schedule is usually 12 hours ahead of whatever it was the week before. So since I got up at 4:30pm today, I should be getting up at 4:30am next weekend.

So this weekend has been a “non-action” weekend. Other than yesterday evening’s loud motor show, it’s been hot, dry, quiet and just wonderful.

Once we get moved Tom may see what other jobs are available in the area. He makes great money and the benefits are good, but he’s just not happy. They’re working him to death and he’s working with a bunch of stupid idiots. With his experience, he should be able to find a job with similar pay and benefits. Besides, the only part of the benefits that’s really good is dental, which we’ll use for the bulk of my dental needs once we get moved. Also, the 401K is nice but they only match half of it and not all of it like most companies do.

Then I got to thinking about it and I really wonder if he’s not just as cursed with jobs as I am with getting neighbors who allow their dogs to bark every single fucking place we go. Tom doesn’t mind cuz he grew up with that shit. But I didn’t. Dogs are supposed to be household pets where I come from, not noisy lawn decorations. I just can’t remember the last time he had a job he was happy with. It seems they always suck from the get-go or they start off ok, then they end up sucky.

Still losing weight since I stopped lifting. Even my thighs don’t rub together as much when I walk. But this hip shit really pisses the shit out of me. My right hip has been really annoying, even painful at times, and I don’t know why. Sometimes it seems like the pain is coming from different areas and is hard to pinpoint exactly where it’s at. Sometimes it seems to start in the hip and shoot down to my knee. Other times it starts in my hip and shoots back to my ass. I cannot lie on it or in certain positions. It seems the only one I can lie in that doesn’t aggravate it is on my back. I don’t know if it’s cuz I’m getting older, the years of running or what, but I hope it doesn’t get any worse. If I’m ever unable to work out, I’ll gain tons of weight even if I eat like a bird.

The daily shots of bug spray under the sink have been helping to keep the bees from invading the bathroom. Still gets a little nerve-wracking parking my ass on the toilet at sunrise and sunset when they’re most active.

FRIDAY, JULY 20, 2012 Went back to Twitter but decided to share my little microblog there with just Maliheh for now. Haven’t decided if I want to share with Nane yet. I don’t think I will, though. The reason I’ve decided to be so secretive about this one and have signed up as Miss Anonymous is that I have more freedom this way. This way I don’t have to worry about overtweeting and annoying friends, or feeling obligated to follow back those that annoy me with their own share of overtweeting like Kim used to do. I can’t control who chooses to follow me, but I don’t have to follow them back if they’re not friends and they can choose to unfollow me anytime they want.

The reason I chose Maliheh is that we have no mutual friends. I would have loved to have bitched about Kim on my old Twitter account but couldn’t do that because I knew it would offend Alison. This way I don’t have to worry about offending anyone. So yeah, the decision’s been made. Only Maliheh will read this entry and only she will get the link, and I will make sure I don’t connect my Twitter account with my Facebook account or anything like that where I use my real name.

Another reason for sharing my “secret” Twitter profile with Maliheh is because that way if she wants to, she can get an idea of what my current schedule is like and whatever else I’m up to and random thoughts I may have. She doesn’t have to check it of course. I’m just going to make the link available to her so she has the option.

I kind of wish Maliheh would start tweeting from her own secret account too, so I could know what was up with her even when we weren’t in the mood to chat, and even if it were something as trivial as what she ate for lunch, but I understand that isn’t her thing.

Maybe I’ll end up deactivating on Twitter. I left for a while because I got sick of all the constant change and the forced ads, recommendations and “promoted” tweets being thrown into my stream.

For now, it will be for Maliheh and I, though I’ll still tweet at least for a while even if she’s not interested in checking it out, and have fun changing backgrounds every few days or so. They don’t allow animated ones, but I have plenty of stills to decorate with.

Later…

It fucking figures that less than 24 hours after rejoining Twitter the site is down. I can’t access it at all, so they’re down hard. Probably got flooded over the latest mass murder.

Before I state what’s on my mind, remember that you chose to read this blog. If you’re sensitive or you disagree with what I may have to say, that’s fine, but that’s your problem. Whether you live in my country or not, whether you’re rich or poor, whether you have an “important” job or not, I don’t want to hear it. It’s fine to disagree, but don’t even think for a minute that so long as I don’t harm or threaten anyone you can still mess with my rights. Or try to. The worst you can do is make yourself look worse and me get rich. So… am I worth it?

Ok, so as far as what’s on my mind. That’s easy. I hope to hell they fry the guy’s ass that’s responsible for the theater shootings in Chicago. I really do. I’m glad he’s white because that will up the chances of him getting the death sentence he deserves instead of pity and a lifelong stay at a local funny farm at the taxpayer’s expense.

What pisses the shit out of me is knowing that this cock probably will get off on an insanity defense because apparently, he’s showing no sense of reasoning, unlike the Oklahoma bomber. He was sane and did what he did for a reason. The government fucked him over so he blew up one of their buildings.

That’s another thing that’s scary. You would think those that have bombed or flown into government buildings would be an example to the government of just what can happen when you fuck over your own while catering to the rest of the world, yet they still go on fucking us over and nearly killing some of us as in the case with my husband and I last year.

Ok, why is my landlord driving his loud truck up and down the driveway??? I have sound machines and fans on yet I still hear this fucker! That’s why we may as well not worry if we go back to having neighbors so close to us. They’re going to be just as annoying whether they’re close to us or hundreds of feet away, so why not? Seriously, God doesn’t give us any breaks when we distance ourselves from neighbors, He just makes them louder. What this cock is doing right now more than makes up for the distance. It’s no different than if he were just an arm’s length away. It’s getting dark, though, so maybe it’ll stop soon, and he’ll either stay home or take off for the night like he sometimes does on Friday nights and leave me with 8 hours of barking.

What else can I complain about? How about attitudes toward suicide? Just like some people’s attitudes towards rape victims suck with the way they blame them and not the perp, people always blame the suicide victim, too. Sure there are some that kill themselves for the wrong reasons, and sure some of them would have made it through life just fine had they not given up when they did, but what if Tom and I hadn’t received a miracle in the end and therefore gone through with our plans? I’ll tell you exactly what would’ve happened. People would’ve blamed us for our own deaths and insisted we just “didn’t try hard enough.” But when you fill out every application available to you yet no one calls, that’s NOT your fault. Luckily for us, though, one did just that in the nick of time, and they saw past Tom’s age and skin color and right through to his qualifications.

We still would’ve preferred to go quickly and painlessly in the comfort of our own home and bed, as opposed to slowly starving on the streets, but we definitely would’ve preferred to go on living a normal life. We are forever grateful to our deceased loved ones for saving us in the end, cuz no other theory makes sense to us and it’s too hard to write it off as a coincidence. At the same time, I wonder just how much of an influence the dead really have on the living. Overall, it doesn’t seem like much. But I wonder things at times like if my dad can and will try to help us get the right home.

It annoys the hell out of me when people say that suicide isn’t the answer. That should be up to each individual to decide and not society. It’s our lives and our bodies. So if you can tell me that suicide wouldn’t have been the answer had a miracle not saved us in the end, then what you’re basically saying is that a slow miserable death on the streets would have been the answer. Sorry, but that’s just pure bullshit knowing my own self as well as I do. I’m pretty in tune with what my limits are and what I can and can’t handle. Streetlife wouldn’t have been one of them. But someday, unless something else kills us in the meantime, my husband will die and then I will kill myself so I don’t have to live without him, rich or poor, then you can all blame me for it. :)

Last night’s negative dreamfest consisted of the dogs barking and me going to turn the sound machine on to drown them out. But the sound machine wouldn’t work. So I decided to go yell at them to shut the hell up, even though I knew it would only last about 10 minutes. Yet when I opened the door to let them have it, the place looked just like we were in the city. Instead of seeing trees and hills, all I saw were closely set houses.

The other bad dream I remember is that I had been run over by a car and was trying to sue the driver for millions of dollars. One night I was at a party and although I seemed to be just fine physically, I was talking to a legal expert at the party who told me that the case would probably drag on for years and in the end, I would most likely lose. I felt myself tense up with anger, not just because of what they said, but knowing that God would protect my perps as usual. Then I spotted the guy who ran me over. I hurled myself at him and he went down on his back with me on top of him. I pummeled his face with my fists till it was perfectly red and unrecognizable. It took 3 or 4 people to pull me off the cock.

sighs Why can’t I have fun, happy dreams more often? The kind you hate waking up from.

When I was bitching to Tom about there not being any home jobs that pay at least minimum wage, he said everyone would be doing them if there were. Really? I thought most people would want to work outside of the house and be around other people.

I had to laugh when Tom said he worried if I’d be able to survive an adult community without blasting music. LOL, I don’t have to blast music. I do it cuz it’s more convenient than using the iPod when I’m cleaning or something like that. I’d worry more about how well others will control their dogs there than anything I may do. I can use iPods and headphones anytime I need to. I don’t expect two big dogs to be left outside overnight to bark their asses off, but I still worry about a small dog being left out during the daytime when the people are working, or more than likely out on errands or entertaining company since we don’t seem to be allowed to have neighbors who work no matter where we live. Besides, the only pet restrictions I’ve seen mentioned so far are the size and number of dogs/cats, not that they’re not allowed to live outdoors.

Jesus, now TIP is down. What is wrong with people tonight?!

THURSDAY, JULY 19, 2012 There are now at least 40 bees in the trap, so now it’s cost us about a quarter a bee. Definitely better than a buck a bee, LOL.

I haven’t heard from any Internet trolls today because they don’t have the balls to drop their masks of anonymity and show themselves before fucking with me.

No nightmares last night. Just a quick dream of drawing with a green crayon and another of being in a very old house with a very high ceiling.

Tom’s still working 10-hour shifts and is tired but getting us richer by the minute. He still doesn’t get why they want to spend money on unnecessary OT. His only guess is that they want to have more employees for some reason and they hope that this is the way to achieve that.

Miss Not Allowed to Make Money has been told about what’s going on with Alison and she is so fucking enraged it isn’t funny! I’m not just pissed for her, but it only drives my anger and hatred towards men in general even deeper. And the fucked up “justice” system as well.

She made me promise not to tell anyone since she signed an agreement not to discuss it with anyone but wanted to tell me because she felt the need to get it off her chest and felt that it would help her to talk about it. She’s only got Dustin and her friend Regina, who also works where she does to talk to, and of course Kim’s too crazy to be trusted. I’ll keep it out of public though I don’t see the harm in telling Tom and Maliheh.

She lost her cyber defense job to some cock with more experience and because of some stuff going down she didn’t agree with. She was ok with this because she got a job as a security specialist immediately afterward that pays more for fewer hours. But first she was asked to train the guy who was to take her position. She agreed even though she had a bad feeling about the guy and made sure not to spend any time alone with him.

A few days later she saw him kicking and punching his soon-to-be ex in a public parking lot near the base, then he was screaming and threatening a bunch of coworkers a few days after that. Then a higher-up asks her opinion of the guy, so she gives him her take on the little cock and tells him what she saw.

She left his office with the belief that their discussion would be kept confidential. It wasn’t. The cock started threatening her both on the base and online and that’s why she shut down on Facebook, Ask and other sites. Bad move, in my opinion. She should have A, stood up to the fucking cock, and B, not shut down and sent the wrong message. Bullies like that are like dogs; you run, they chase. They prey on fear. They crave it, they live for it, and I really wish to hell they would go up against the wrong women a little more often and that will happily take them down a peg or two. Do we reach into small spaces in the desert without looking after we were surprised by a rattlesnake biting us? No, we usually think twice the next time around. Well, if God would just direct these assholes to bitches like me more often then maybe they’ll remember that they can’t always threaten or attack someone and not expect to be attacked in return. At least not always. And maybe then the little fuckers won’t want to take chances. But that’s just the thing. These cocks aren’t going to come at bitches like me who they know or at least should be able to sense will fight back. And I have absolutely zero qualms to admitting that if I am ever again threatened, lunged at or struck in any way, I don’t care what color, race, gender or how damn superior and how much of a hold you think you might have on me. I’m fighting back! And if I can’t get you with my fists or feet, I’ll get you with a weapon.

I would prefer not to have anyone make trouble for me in the first place and I’m not the kind to go looking for trouble, but I can’t stress enough just how quick I’ll be to fight back. You can call me every name in the book, but as soon as I hear threats or see you coming at me, my husband or our property, down you go. I’ll gladly go to jail for you even if no one takes assault very seriously. If they did people wouldn’t do time for threats they never wrote while these people get little more than probation and anger management classes thrown at them. Yeah, that’s what this cock got despite all his threats and violence. It infuriates the living hell out of me. A part of me wishes one of these types of cocks would come to my door and say the wrong thing at the same time I hope I’m never forced to take some cock who’s grinning with confidence and turn his “I’m gonna beat your ass, bitch” into “OMG, please, please stop! I’m sorry! I swear, I’m sorry! Oh God, please let me go!”

This has always been a concern of mine too; the thought of some cock (or even a woman) making what amounts to one too many threats causing me to simply pop like a balloon. Just explode like a volcanic mountain erupting. The night I got pissed at yet another plumbing problem in this damn place, did I really go outside after Jesse got here because I was curious as to what the hell was the problem? Or was a part of me, perhaps on a subconscious level, hoping he’d do something to provoke me into going after him and unleashing some of this fury that’s been pent up within me for years for various reasons?

I’m ashamed to say it but it’s true that for many years I turned the other cheek and walked away from things I shouldn’t have and later regretted because it only got me taken more advantage of, thus more abused. In some cases, it was legally, in some cases it was in other ways. I was too chicken for various reasons to fight back until I got older and angrier. Not fighting back has left me feeling both angry and like a coward. It isn’t just about enjoying the look of shock and embarrassment when someone smaller than them turns around and belts them hard enough to make them think twice the next time around. Nor is it just about possibly saving others from being threatened or attacked who won’t fight back. It’s about having self-respect. Maybe it’s just me, and I don’t expect those who haven’t been in my shoes to understand, but why is it I feel that not fighting back was the same as saying it was ok to do what they did to me? Oh, I’d have gone to jail, all right. And they would’ve slapped all kinds of false labels on it rather than called it what it actually was (me defending myself) and God help me even more if the perp wasn’t white, but any time I did in jail would’ve been worth it in the end. Just like some people would die to defend this country, I will go to jail for you if you threaten or attack me. Again, though, if you’re a man or you haven’t been in my shoes, don’t even think of judging me or telling me I’m being “unreasonable.” You can’t possibly know how I feel.

Judges make examples out of some perps by going extra hard on some of them. Well, I wish some women would make examples of themselves. Sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves isn’t going to change things.

Yet those who have threatened me in the past (though I’ll admit there weren’t many) have always had some kind of a hold on me where as much as I may’ve wanted to fight, win or lose, I couldn’t because something more important was in jeopardy. This left me feeling even more like a coward, but when this chick in jail threatened me, I couldn’t “lose it” on her, though I came so incredibly close and it was all I could do to keep from making her just try to put her actions where her mouth was (though she probably could have) because I would’ve been thrown on restriction. That would have meant no visitation or commissary. Well, Tom wasn’t worth throwing away to this bitch and neither were my Milky Ways or more batteries for my radio. Now if I ran into this bitch on the streets where there weren’t any holds on me when she threatened me, that’d be different, though I’d be more likely to go to jail for attacking a woman than a man. A man’s simply going to be too embarrassed and ashamed to admit he took one from a woman. It’d be like my getting my ass beat by someone half my size. You don’t think I’d be embarrassed? Sure I would be, even though I’m smart enough to know that size and gender isn’t what determines a fighter, but rage instead and the will to fight back and defend one’s self.

But that anger lives on. It doesn’t just go away, we don’t just forget and we don’t just “get over it.” That’s why I laugh at these so-called anger management classes they throw these fuckers in. Anger isn’t a choice. None of our emotions are. We can’t trick, manipulate or control our emotions and be reaching into our brains and flicking little switches at will. The only thing that could maybe curb some of the anger is if our perps apologized to us or tried to compensate for their shit somehow, but that’s not going to happen. Therefore we remain angry and it’s not much of a choice. If it were, no one would ever feel negative emotions like anger, sadness and fear unless they had something wrong with them like Rihanna, and yes, sadly there are women who genuinely enjoy being abused by men. Hey, when you don’t fight back AND you stay with the guy, well, I gotta believe you actually get off on it. Mary sure did for a while. But these women aren’t going to stop and admit that every slap, kick and punch turns them on any more than your average cock is going to admit he’s probably a sexual fuck-up in bed and defunct as hell. So I can personally say that anger management classes are a joke. I sat in a cold hard jail cell and took cold showers and ate insanely spicy hotdogs for half a year on account of the very people who made my life a living hell for years after I had something to say about it. Then I went on to lose thousands of dollars and I won’t even get into the amount of stress and anger I experienced. If they think they started off with a pissed-off person, well, after they got done raking the legal coals over my ass, they ended up with someone a hell of a lot angrier and I’m not ashamed to admit it. No “class” can simply diffuse anger and other emotions brought on by such an atrocity. I know justice will never exist in this case. I know they have forever gotten away with it. I know nothing can undo what was done. But I’m never not going to feel a sense of anger over what happened and simply forget about it. A million-dollar check and a public apology in the very paper that libeled the hell out of me could never change that. It would help, but it wouldn’t change or undo what’s already been done. I was eventually vindicated, even though it was 2½ years too late, but the papers weren’t exactly as quick to shout that from the rooftops, were they? “You gotta forgive” people have told me, promising me that I would feel oh so much better in the end. But how? How?

I’m tired of the double standards in the courts as well as the reverse discrimination. Had this cock been a woman going around kicking ass and making threats, she’d have been fired and jailed. I don’t doubt that for a minute.

As I told Aly, I wouldn’t have let the cock drive me offline. That’s what it wants. Instead of running scared, she should get angry and let him come at her with his online threats and taunts and gather more evidence against him, joke of a system or not. If she deletes it then she has nothing to back up her word. Goes to prove that a certain someone from my past was never really scared. No, it was all about hate and anger for them, but never fear cuz if you are genuinely victimized and if you are genuinely scared, you do run and hide. Not throw yourself out there as bait.

I’m just so pissed for Aly! If I were the cock that’s bullying her and I didn’t believe in guardian angels, I would now. That’s because if that had been me he threatened, I’d make it so he NEVER threatened another woman again! So something was looking out for this cock, though he’ll never know it. Ugh, I just fucking hate these low-life cocks and when women don’t stand up to them! Aly said she’s been bullied too much as a kid to take it as an adult, but I just wish more women would do more. Studies have shown time and time again that there is no “stronger” or “weaker” sex any more than there is a dumber or smarter race. The problem is that men tend to have more of a temper than women, thus giving women the false label of being weaker. Just because women would prefer to work problems out with their voices and not their fists, doesn’t mean they’re weaker. Just wish they’d do something. Beat ‘em, shoot ‘em, something. Yes, more women would go to jail in the end, but more of these little shit cocks would be more hesitant to fuck with just anyone. Ok, so some of them still wouldn’t get it. Some of them truly believe they can beat anyone. But how the hell can the number of these types of attacks and threats not go down if more women are serving up a taste of their own medicine? Sometimes two wrongs really can make a right.

On the bright side, sooner or later this cock is going to make the grave mistake of going up against a crazy bitch like me because no matter how good we are at judging and sensing people, we’re not always 100% correct. It really is nice to have guys like Tom in the world cuz most cocks are just a bunch of dumb-ass cowards who think they’re the baddest till they cross the wrong person. I wish there were more Paulas in the world, though Paula tends to beat guys just for the fun of it and that’s wrong. I’ve always been against people being violent toward those who don’t deserve it. Violence should be reserved for those who threaten or attack us or who burn our houses down and shit like that. Still, I’m just tired of seeing human shit like this walk away with little more than a slap on the wrist if even that. Meanwhile, I never touched anyone (our old neighbors) and look what happened to me. Like I said, I hope I will never again meet anyone like this or like this cock Aly’s dealing with, but if I do, I already feel bad for them. I really do.

Ah, that feels better. Not as good as it would feel to see this cock get the beating of his life from his ex or someone else, but writing really is therapeutic. My own perps will never see a day in jail, but they can’t stop me from venting. I just can’t do this one in public cuz I promised Aly I wouldn’t. She says things have died down there a bit while this cock is under strict watch, but she’s still worried. I don’t blame her. With all the trigger-happy psychos you hear of that end up losing it at universities and military bases, it makes me worry, too. I’d like to think the cock would know that harming or killing Aly means going to prison, but some people just don’t give a shit. Some people are actually happier there. I was in jail and not prison, and I was with women of course and not men, but many of them genuinely seemed to enjoy being there and were very happy to be in a place where they didn’t have to pay rent, bills or anything like that and where they could have all their meals (even if dog food would’ve been better) cooked and delivered right to their door.

A part of me wishes women would snap and riot against men like the blacks did during the L.A. Riots. But while the thought of it may be funny as hell, it would be wrong. The blacks not only belittled and degraded themselves by proving to be poor losers acting like spoiled little kids taking a bunch of temper tantrums (though I agree that Rodney King was beaten), but they also took their anger out on innocent people. Many people lost their lives and businesses and were hurt physically and emotionally cuz of their shit. So funny thought or not, I wouldn’t want a bunch of chicks beating up on a guy like Tom simply cuz some shithead beat up on her.

Now the question is should I or shouldn’t I share this with Tom? Well, he’s complained before that too many emails detract from his time spent looking for a place, and I know he’s been tired and overworked a lot lately. He was also never one to handle other people’s stress very well. He’s the type who tends to defend, play down and make excuses for who/whatever you’re angry with and can sometimes make a person feel worse afterward even if he certainly doesn’t mean to, so nah. I’ll share it with just Maliheh. I thought about sharing it with Aly, but I said enough to her about how I felt about the situation and cocks like this, so rather than risk all this writing making her uncomfortable even if I tell her it’s private, I’ll skip sharing it with her. Andy’s trustworthy, but I don’t want him to accidentally slip in public. So it will be for Maliheh and myself. I don’t want to send it to Nane cuz it’s so long, though she’s aware of the situation. Not what happened with Aly but my feelings toward men in general. I just needed to get this off my chest just like Aly needed to get it off hers. Maliheh can be trusted and she’ll understand.

Speaking of Nane, yesterday I watched her view a particular entry – and I know it was her – then turn around and ask me about it in a message. Now why would she ask me about something she just read? To try to throw me off and into thinking it wasn’t her that visited? Most people definitely don’t seem to like knowing you can see their visits. Maliheh was spooked by it, Andy was spooked by it, though he never admitted it, and Christiane denied visiting me altogether.

Later…

I was sitting here thinking about the many injustices of this world and how angry they and the system make me. I can’t right all the wrongs in the world, but what if I could “avenge” some of them? Registered sex offenders who move into the area are required to have their addresses listed online for anyone to see. All one has to do is look up these animals in any given town, city or state. These sick, incurable animals that the courts keep tossing back out at us to harm us over and over and over and over again while they get off on some technicality or because some equally twisted judge feels sorry for them because they may’ve abused as children.

But if the courts won’t do their job, should it fall upon us the people to do it for them? At the same time, these little fucks are blessed with the privilege of residing amongst us, the pigs don’t exactly feel sorry for them should bad things fall upon them.

Well, what if that bad thing was me? Yeah, what if? What if I happened by their house one day? What if they let me in, assuming a woman couldn’t hurt them? What if they were wrong? What if that woman did hurt them and take out or at least disable one more dangerous person and release a lot of anger while she was at it? What if?

howls and squeals with excitement as ideas form in her mind What if for just one night of their lives, they got to feel what their victims felt? What if? What if I let them live so they could suffer with what I did to them during those few hours I toyed and tortured them? What if I left them crying, degraded, and begging for mercy?

The problem? Well, for one I don’t drive. Secondly, Tom certainly wouldn’t approve of it. I also don’t have a weapon for those I may not be able to handle with my hands. Lastly, I wouldn’t have the guts to pull this off even if I could.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 18, 2012 While we sometimes do end up with a pet we’re not too thrilled with and that we thought would be friendlier, it seems that house hunting is like pet hunting. You know it when you’ve found the right one. Well, although that triple-wide has its flaws and may be a bit bigger than we need and would like, I can’t seem to stop thinking about it. We’re still going to talk to people in a couple of weeks just to get a sense of what we may or may not be up against, but based on our calculations and the way they’ve been throwing so much OT at him, we could probably pay off more than half of it in September. Even if the payments were $300 a month after that, that’d be less than two years to have to pay that on top of the lot rent. That’s the only other thing I don’t like is that the lot cost is forever. Then again, it’s not literally “forever.” I can’t say for sure what’s going to happen in 11 years, but I doubt we’ll remain in NorCal forever. I don’t know if it’ll be Spain or Florida that we end up in, but doubt we’ll be here for the rest of our lives. So “forever” would really be a decade.

I really wish they’d do away with central AC/heating and install individual wall heaters and coolers in each room. That way you save energy and money, not heating rooms you don’t use often and things like that. Closing vents doesn’t cut costs; it just cuts down the airflow to a particular room.

Anyway, I can’t help but wonder if someone else will get the house before we get a chance to either hope they drop the price some more or make a play for it. And if we do, will we win it? It would probably be smarter to just forget about it and get a smaller dump on a lot that’s only $450 a month instead of $765. But I’m sick of dumps! Even if there’s money to fix it up, I’m just so sick of dumps. Yet it seems that the usual options in life unless you’re rich are to either get a cheap dump or buy something newer and nicer that may put you at risk or not allow you to save much. But with the triple-wide all paid for, the lot and utilities would be pretty comparable to this place. Here we can save an average of $500 a month and that’s without even trying, so it’s not like we wouldn’t be saving anything at all. We are going to start actually trying, though, cuz the more down payment, the merrier as it may lower the monthly payments. So no more eating out, expensive groceries or fancy nail polish for a while.

They’re OTing the hell out of him again and he just doesn’t understand why they don’t save themselves money and add a second shift to throw just a few people on. With the way California OT works, they’d save a ton of money that way. Business must be booming if they’ve got that much money to throw away. Hopefully, they won’t run out, like Tom said, for being stupid. Nonetheless, he has to work Saturday and that alone will be over $200 and buy us what will hopefully – hopefully – be the last propane fill-up.

It sure would be nice to see that house in person. A picture doesn’t always speak a thousand words. Still can’t get the house off my mind. It’s sitting there right this very moment totally empty. It’s waiting for its new owners. But who are they?

I wish the nightmares and even the dreams that are just plain old negative overall would stop. Sure I’d rather bad things happen in my dreams than in reality, but I have had dream premonitions before. Enough to rule out any coincidence. So when something broke in here in my last round of dreams (the cooler?) and Jesse said it was going to take him 10 hours to fix it when it was at the end of my day and I was ready to crash, that doesn’t exactly make for happy dreaming.

I also wish that after 3 years of pestering me that Molly would leave me the fuck alone. I still think she’s the one pestering me on Ask lately. Again, she comes to me. I don’t go to her. So if she hates me that much, based on the things she says to me, then why does she bother with me? If she’s going to keep on pestering me, though, can’t she come up with something new other than the usual 3 or 4 things she keeps telling me, like how God would be nicer to me if I were nicer to others? Besides, if this bullshit line were even true, then what about infants that are smothered by their parents? Who were they not nice to? So you see, her sense of logic is a bit twisted when you really think about it.

So much for Mommy and Daddy restricting her online privileges since they don’t seem to get that they have to ground this nut for life if they want to keep her from bothering anyone. Yes, literally for life. No amount of time off is going to change things when she’s suddenly allowed limited online access. Why don’t they get this yet??? Perhaps they just don’t want to.

This is someone who has shown to have an intense, passionate hatred for gays, bisexuals and lesbians. Well, I’ve been attracted to a few men and lots of women, so why would she want to bother with me in that case? I’ve had sex with half a dozen women in my life and sooner or later I’ll probably have sex with more. I just don’t know with who, where, when or how many there’ll be. Meanwhile, my brain is like a slut when it comes to writing the kinds of stories I write. Now why in the world should she bother wasting time with me, an “evil sinner” with a whorebag of a mind??? Really Molly, I am the unhealthiest fixation you could possibly have since you believe your conservative, hateful ways are the only correct and acceptable way to live. So instead of you and your mommy making empty threats to sue me for having the nerve to bitch about your stalkerish ways in my blog, why not actually get a life and get a job for the first time in what, 5 years? Or at least throw yourself in that group home you once mentioned so you can be with other pesky misfits like yourself.

rolls eyes and sighs I was really hoping that since Alison’s the target of her obsession, she would leave me alone since Aly deactivated on Ask, but no such luck so far. So I will only allow anonymous comments there when I think they’re less likely to come around.

I wonder why she hasn’t shown up on my blog, though. That one I just don’t get. She’s still just as obsessed with me, so if she can be curious enough to keep tabs on me on Ask, why not my blog, too? I think she is still reading it regularly but is just disabling cookies to avoid showing up on TIP, thinking it’ll make her look less stalkerish once she crosses the line enough to draw law enforcement’s attention.

looks towards Citrus Heights Hi, house, how you doing out there tonight? Feeling kind of lonely sitting all alone and empty? Aw, someone will come keep you company sooner or later. Us???

Yeah, I know, I know. Wake up and smell the coffee and look around me, right? This is reality. This was what was meant for us.

Good night, house. Sleep well.

TUESDAY, JULY 17, 2012 Just had a bit of a chilling thought pertaining to a damn good cyber friend of mine that I’ve known for about 4 years now. Let’s just say that something happened that got me thinking. How well do we know our friends? How well do we really, really know them?

And who are we to say for sure just who’s on the other end of the computer? When we open ourselves to anonymous comments and questions on sites we can’t track, who can know for sure just who’s on the other side of the computer? Maybe – just maybe – it’s someone we least expect. Hell, I didn’t expect Kim was pulling the shit she was pulling on me despite knowing she wasn’t all there, and I may never have figured it out had Aly not expressed her own suspicions about the Kimbecile.

Today on Ask I got “bully” and “dont you feel guilty?” I automatically assumed it was Molly. These are her signature questions, so to speak, though I also realized it could be Kim. I’d still be willing to bet on Molly.

But right around the time I got these “questions,” Alison shut down on Ask and sent me an email saying I wouldn’t hear much from her for a while cuz things have gotten really bad for her. She said she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Just that something happened online that scared her (she said it had nothing to do with either troll) and that she would explain more when things calmed down. Meanwhile, she was taking a break from Ask and from being online as much.

I know how frustrating online trolls can be to deal with, but I hope she won’t let them get to her. I also hope she’ll eventually tell me what’s going on. I hate it when people drop hints without telling the whole story! I just hate being left in the dark and curious as hell.

Then I got to thinking about the timing of everything that happened today and while it seems like a seriously far-fetched idea, how well do we really know our friends? I’ve always considered Aly to be one of the smartest, sanest people I know. But what if? What if??? Then I say, nah, she couldn’t be “one of them” could she? God, I hope not! I’d feel even more betrayed than when I learned that after being a friend to my face, Kim was trolling me behind a mask of anonymity. That’s because she and I were even closer and shared so much more with each other. I never considered Kim a true friend in the way I considered Aly a friend. Kim was always just a borderline friend/annoyance in my eyes.

I’d still bet my money on those questions being from Molly, but again, how well do we really know our friends? It’s not something Andy would do. I’ve known the guy all my life. Whenever he plays with me he eventually lets me know it’s him. Whoever this really is, it isn’t Andy. Oh, how I would love to be able to track Ask! But that’s where the trolls go; where they know they can hide. Even if some of them make themselves obvious at times. I doubt it could be anyone else I’m close to in the U.S. or anyone in Europe. It just doesn’t seem like the type of thing they’d do… even if we can never truly know our own friends.

A group of women was bitching on Nane’s wall about how chilly it’s been lately in Germany. I said that they should come here and Christiane replied with: I’d like to come very much.

It was all I could do to keep from adding, “Would you be jealous, Nane?” LMAO!

In private, since Nane might see her as “competition” of sorts even though she’d probably never admit it, I told her that if all goes well we should be open to visitors in a few months once we have more space.

What do I like best about German ladies? They’re so tall. :) Tall, dark and lovely or not, Christiane’s always been a nice person, so why not stop by and see me when and if she visits the area? Well, because only the ugly ones would prefer to visit, that’s why.

6 pounds of muscle has now been flushed down the toilet. You definitely don’t want to build tons of muscle unless you have no body fat. Building muscle when you’re fat only makes you look and feel fatter. Oh, you could see some of the muscle through the fat, alright, but I hated being bulked out like that and not being as flexible.

In other news, thank God the dream premonitions have stopped. Sure seem to have anyway. It’s been a long time since I had one so hopefully, my dream that we were right back in the situation we were in last fall was just a nightmare and nothing more. Tom assured me it was and that it would take years to end up that way with all we’ve got saved. Well, I don’t know about that, but while the economy isn’t exactly booming, it should take even an older whitey less than 6 months to get a job these days and he’d still get unemployment for a while, too.

Mary’s release date is now pulled up to August 29th. Damn! I can just imagine the excitement she must be feeling. I just hope she isn’t going to live with any of the losers that helped put her where she’s been for the last 12 years.

MONDAY, JULY 16, 2012 I noticed a checkmark next to Nane’s message when she picked it up, then an arrow appeared. So maybe Maliheh really did pick up my message. She probably did as it makes no sense to just ignore it.

Nane had me laughing my ass off when she said that while the house I showed her looked nice, she said it looked like it was made of spit and glue. LOL! She never understood why American homes weren’t built tougher since we have our share of natural disasters here, but as I told her, even homes built to hurricane standards in Florida sometimes get taken out, and we’re pretty safe from earthquakes and other things here except for wildfires.

My weight’s been dropping like a rock since I stopped lifting and am now just sticking to running. I swear my arms are half the size they were a few days ago. I’m also dieting a little more seriously, too. It is so hard! I could eat the entire jar of Nutella straight out of the jar.

Lady Di shut down on Ask and Facebook. I guess she got sick of being harassed, though I don’t know why people picked on her so badly. I don’t think I ever saw anyone get so much shit dished at them online like she did. She probably just temporarily deactivated and will be back soon enough, though, after she’s taken a break.

Andy’s answer to Molly’s, “Why is Jodi ignoring me?” was so fucking funny, and yes, I know it was her. She makes herself rather obvious just like Kim does. Anyway, he answered with, “Because you left her hairbrush out in the sun.”

I was reading back on some of the shit I pulled in my 20s and forgot all about “Kevin H.” I not only billed calls to celebrities, but it seems I also had TV characters subpoenaed as well, LOL. In the last apartment I would ever have in Springfield, MA, Andy and I were discussing what name I should get the phone in since I was such a prankster in those days and he suggested Kevin H, a character on the Twin Peaks TV series. So he got the phone in that name since I couldn’t make myself sound like a guy when calling the phone company. The best I could do was two separate female voices. That was a few years prior to that when I was a young American female and an older English female at the same time but in a different situation. It worked, too! Anyway, being the idiot I was at the time, I got caught making prank phone calls. Only Kevin H got the subpoena and I never had to go to court! My heartfelt thanks, even after all these years, to the creator of that TV series. :)

While the Kevin H thing may be funny, the “stolen books” appearing on our credit report isn’t. I haven’t ordered introductory books and then failed to buy the required 8 or 10 books or so over the following 2 or 3 years since Phoenix! So how can it say I did this in 2010??? And where are all these books I supposedly stole??? Somebody’s fucking around somewhere and they should remember that I may not always have much muscle and I may not be very tall, but I ALWAYS have the temper from hell!!!

The overall report isn’t as bad as we thought it was, even though the two things that are on it are bullshit.

Later…

Still not sure what would be better to aim for, old and cheaper or new and costlier. Thanks to the bastard above who saw fit to curse me with a sleep disorder that would forever guarantee us two people lived on one income, it’s not like we could get just anything. Then again, it’s also not like we couldn’t get something newer and nicer and not still be able to save money. But we’d rather save close to a grand a month as opposed to just a few hundred.

Money has become much more important to me than objects after the hell we went through. So knowing the importance of money and how things could go wrong for anyone, anywhere at any given time, and seeing that I’m used to living in old dumps anyway, we should probably go for something cheap and old. It would still be better than this because it would not only be bigger and ours, but where people are hopefully made to control their dogs. It really pissed me the fuck off to hear the dogs start barking on a Monday night of all nights. I don’t know where the damn cock went, but knowing he could be out anywhere from a few minutes to all night long, I threw the sound machines on.

If we can’t escape barking in an adult community, where can we escape it??? Most have pet restrictions but so far all I’ve seen those restrictions entail is the size and the number of pets. Nothing that says you can’t toss them outside and leave them there.

You can take out a 10 and even 20-year lease that locks in the cost of the lot pretty much for the rest of your life, but again, as much as I’d love to live in something newer and nicer, we could lose it all if they laid him off. Haven’t we lost enough already? I just hate to settle (within reason) and move from one dump to another even if it may be ours, super cheap, bigger, and easy enough to fix up.

I almost want to scream when I hear 20-somethings bitch about their dishwasher or garbage disposal not working right. Well, guess what, kiddies? I’m twice your age, maybe more, and I don’t even have those little luxuries in life to complain about! Some people don’t realize how good they’ve got it till they’re reduced to such poverty and bummery as a trashy old trailer. Now that’s fucking degrading and embarrassing in some ways! Even when you know it’s not your fault and you’ve worked just as hard as others, it still has a way of really pissing the shit out of someone when you know you deserve better in life. But I didn’t ask to be born cursed with a sleep disorder any more than I asked for a lot of other shit to happen to me, and my husband didn’t ask to make a 28-month career of out unemployment. So sometimes things really are beyond our control and all we can do is make the best of it even if it’s not always easy.

There are other obstacles we may be up against too, like our lack of rent receipts. We have nothing to prove we’ve been paying rent anywhere because Jesse asked us to start paying him in cash a while back so he could hide this extra income from the Disability people he was trying to get benefits from. This was on account of a bad back that really doesn’t seem to be all that bad considering how often I see and hear him working outdoors. Hopefully, we won’t need to use him as a reference so long as we don’t take out a loan. I asked Tom why they couldn’t just call him and have him tell them we’ve lived here and rented from him, but as he said, anyone can ask anyone to say that. They want to see things on paper, not hear them from people’s mouths.

These are the kinds of things that make me wonder if our lovely God lined things up this way. Did He time Jesse’s asking us to pay him in cash with us deciding to try to buy a place? As funny as it may sound, though, buying a place, especially if it’s outright or financed through a park or an individual instead of a realtor, may actually be easier than renting. Well, so long as it wasn’t a dumpy old apartment and we certainly don’t want that. I’d still prefer the dumpy trailer to that any day!

The propane tank is down just under 20% so it looks like we’re going to have to order up another round, most of which might be left over for the next people. Why oh why must things always take longer than anticipated?

SUNDAY, JULY 15, 2012 Weird just got weirder. I don’t get it. Maliheh’s changed her profile and cover photo, but my message to her is still showing up as unread. Is she ignoring it for a reason? Or is Facebook just messed up again? It just seems weird that one would change their pictures but not pick up their messages.

People are quick to be so thankful to God and to want to praise Him when good things happen, and that’s fine, but why are they hesitant to cuss Him out when bad things happen? Huh? How come He’s supposedly only responsible for the good and worthy of praise, but never responsible for the bad? Why do people “let Him off the hook,” so to speak when the shit hits the fan in our lives? Even if people aren’t comfortable with literally cussing him out, why not at least a good scolding?

Why do many give God credit where it isn’t due? God didn’t make me good with languages, I did. I did through years and years of study.

“You must be so grateful to God for the way things are going so well for you guys,” some people have said. I am, but let me point out that that same God nearly led us to our deaths last fall. Maybe there’s a God and a devil and sometimes the devil’s more powerful than God, which would mean God’s not the most powerful being in the universe most people seem to think He is. But if God and the devil are one and the same, then He’s just as responsible for allowing bad things to come our way as He is for good things. So again my question is, why don’t we hold him responsible for His part, so to speak, and let him have it when times get rough as well as praise Him when good things happen? Just wondering this is all.

Until God either had a change of heart or something more powerful like a guardian angel or our deceased loved ones stepped in and overthrew God, God toyed with our survival as if it was a fucking game that was funny as hell. And for that, I will never forgive Him. I don’t think I ever could even if I wanted to. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just as grateful for the good that’s come our way as I am angry for the past, but angry I am! Really, there’s just as much anger and hatred as there is gratitude and relief, cuz guess what? We didn’t think it was funny!

Later…

The meltdown of my muscles has begun and no, I will never do bodybuilding again! Fortunately, they start breaking down just 48 hours after your last workout. I’ll still walk and run, but no more hardcore lifting. I just hate the way the excess muscle bulks me out and cuts down my flexibility. So I stopped lifting a few days ago and my weight is dropping like a rock. I’m already much more flexible, too. I’ll just do a few ab crunches a day and that’s about it. I’ll focus mainly on cardio and not strength training.

Next, it’s on to decide if I should cut my nails off or not. They look really cool, but they really are a pain in the ass and I don’t expect them to get much longer.

I’m seeing more traces of Molly online these days and I don’t like it one bit at all. It tells me the parents are loosening their control on the sicko and that means we can expect more harassment from her soon enough. She hasn’t peeked in on my blog much lately, but I know it’s only a matter of time before there are dozens of views a day. Since I’ve got her blocked on Ask and her only choice was to ask me anonymously, I got, “Why is everyone so mean to me?” Aly got similar questions at the time as well, so it’s obvious that it’s her. That’s totally Molly’s type of “question” so she may as well sign her name to it. Anyway, I decided not to indulge in her childish shit and just deleted it.

Molly’s a sneaky little bitch, but I’m just as sneaky, hee hee. She changed her u/n on Ask so she would come unblocked and therefore able to “like” one of my answers. But I blocked her again and that automatically unliked her like. :)

I’m really surprised she doesn’t check out my blog more often unless she’s doing it in a way I’m unaware of.

Aly had me laughing my ass off the other day when we were talking about what lousy pics Kim takes. She said, “I’m no beauty queen and I know it sounds mean, but I always thought that if you added a trunk to her face she’d look like an elephant.” LMAO, that is sooo true! Funny-mean or not, it’s so true. She’s not just ugly but she’s HUGE. She’s got to be 250 pounds at the very least. I once asked her her height but didn’t get a straight answer on that one. This was before I knew what a contradictory liar she was anyway. She’s answered tall at times on Ask, then short. She claims to know Spanish, and then later says she wants to learn it. She always says she’s got blond hair too, yet clearly it’s brown.

The elephant actually surprised Aly by admitting to asking some of the crazy/mean questions on Ask, Aly told me, but another friend of hers also fessed up to some of them. I can pretty much tell who’s asking what. They make it rather obvious. The dumber and crazier they are, the more they give themselves away.

As I told Aly, who admits Kim still lies and uses her, I don’t see how she can hang onto the Kimbecile after all she’s done or even care that she doesn’t have any other friends. She doesn’t have other friends for a reason. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t care who else someone may or may not have for friends if they treated me the way she did. Maybe no friends is just what she deserves. Maybe then she’ll learn to treat people the same to their faces as well as anonymously. This isn’t “normal” playing around like she and I sometimes do to each other.

SATURDAY, JULY 14, 2012 Strange how Maliheh hasn’t picked up the message I left her yesterday afternoon on Facebook. Is she just busy? Not in the mood? Sick? Dealing with naughty blacks who like to terrorize anyone that dares to make perfectly reasonable requests of them like keeping their damn racket to themselves?

Waking up to forty-fucking-two messages on MO wasn’t exactly a thrilling thing to do. I figured it was either trolls or spam, but most likely spam and I was right. Some shithead in Ghana left spam on nearly a third of my fucking blog

Why are some sites more susceptible to spam than others? Thanks to this fucker and a growing number of them on MO, I’ve had to disable anonymous commenting. Once is bad enough, but to have to take the time to go around and delete dozens of these same “comments” gets old. Sorry to those who received auto-alerts when commented after on account of this shithead.

Wish MO would also allow us to block friend requests!

And who the hell had nursing training info sent to me via postal mail? Tammy? I just wonder this cuz A, one of her mistakes got into nursing training, and B, she knows I was hesitant to give her my address for fear of her abusing it. Whoever it was, I’ll stick to writing. I prefer my line of work not to include piss, puke, poop, blood and needles unless it’s part of a story I’m writing.

In Citrus Heights there’s a 1981 3-bed, 2-bath triple-wide for 10K (the lot is $765 a month). It’s 1870 square feet and in an ideal location cuz it’s at the end of a cul de sac and no one parks alongside the place. It doesn’t have a garage, though, and has its pros and cons as with any place. It’d be 12 miles to and from work. Here it’s 18 miles.

But why do I have a feeling this is just a dream just like the “octangle” house in Roseville? Oh, maybe because something up there doesn’t like to see us get what we really want. So it’s either settle or stay here longer to save for what we want. sighs This may not be the worst place to be and the dogs may not bark every day, but man do I get sick of being so cramped in here! I’m constantly bumping and banging myself trying to make the bed in such a tiny space and other things. I can’t imagine a huge person living here. They’d be lucky enough to fit through the hallway and bedroom doorway. I can’t wait to not have to move 20 things just to get to 1. I can’t wait to be able to walk up to a full-size washer that’s always hooked up and ready to go and be able to do things like my comforter anytime I want to. I can’t wait to have a dryer instead of having to hang things. Clothes come out so much softer in the dryer. Fabric softener helps keep hang-dried clothes from being overly stiff, but still, just to be able to have a normal washer and dryer setup would be so nice!

So far this house in Roseville with an octangle-shaped bathroom window and garage and the Citrus Heights triple-wide, are the best two we’ve seen so far as park places go where you always rent the spot it’s on even after the thing is paid for. Again, though, the problem isn’t the down payment or affording the monthly lot fees, it’s paying off the house on top of all these things. Especially if it’s thousands a month till it’s all paid for. But with our bad credit, it’s unlikely we could get a loan or anyone willing to work with us. Not a realtor, that is, which is who’s selling the triple-wide. The octangle house may be through the park itself, but we can’t tell that from just looking online. If it were financed through the park that may make it easier for us. Right now, due to the way the checks fall and his getting paid every other week, we have enough for a down payment, but not enough for food, gas, closing costs, and other initial fees. So we won’t know much more till next month. Until we’re in a position to talk to people, we won’t know what’s the best deal for us.

There are also other types of parks to consider like that one where everyone owns a percentage of it, plus another where you own the land it’s on. This way the payments are either super low or nothing at all after the place is paid for. It’s just that these places are usually tiny dumps or super ritzy.

If worse comes to worst and we can’t get what we want, we’ll then have to decide if we want to pay off the $400 or so in bullshit “bills,” and settle for something that’s borderline (meaning it’s cheap enough that we could afford to make it what we wanted, or stay here and save more money). I can tell you right now that staying here won’t be our first choice. So it looks like we’ll still be out of here sometime this year. Just don’t know when or where to. There are so many options and so much more research to do.

Tom figured out why so many cars were parked in the driveways of that place in Roseville; because the garages are too short for many of these newer cars, and Andy figured out that “chirping” sound we heard at IHOP. It was the low battery indicator on the smoke detector.

Decided to put up the new shower curtain even though the butterfly curtain wasn’t in bad shape or anything like that. It’s just that from the looks of things, chances are we’ll have shower doors in the next place. So I figured that even if we’re only here a few more months, why not enjoy our new colorful neon curtain until then? It’s gorgeous! Love the new metal hooks I also got that you just hang it on, instead of those tough-to-use brittle snap-hooks that break so easily.

Some people worry that when I bitch about certain things like some personality traits I dislike in others and when I promised to dump the next person to betray me in certain ways that it’s directed at them. It’s not! I just wanted to set the record straight on that one. If I have a problem with you I promise I’ll let you know it. Anyone who knows me well enough knows I’m very outspoken and not afraid to say what’s on my mind. If you upset me in any way, you’ll be the first to know it. You can count on it. :)

I’ve always been one who likes to not only write down what’s going on but also random thoughts, plans and desires that don’t necessarily have anything to do with what’s going on at the moment. I’m just an observant kind of person. I notice things. I feel things. I think things. And I like to express them whether they do or don’t seem to have any sense of order or connection to me or my life.

The other day I said I would dump anyone else who can’t accept my word about whatever, but that was just stating a fact. I wasn’t implying that I’m planning to dump anyone in particular. I’m not. In cases like that, I don’t plan, I just do. So why tell you I’m going to dump you when I can just do it? But I will tell you what offends me and what I don’t consider a true friend. I don’t care if you don’t see God for the evil, cruel, unfair being that I see Him as. I don’t care if you don’t see pink as a lovely color. I don’t care if you think fried chicken sucks. It was never about having a problem with someone disagreeing with me. But when I’m called a liar for disclosing a disorder I may have, or I’m made to feel that my way of doing things is wrong while yours is the only acceptable and correct way, then I have a problem. Especially if it’s done over and over again after I’ve expressed my feelings to you about it.

Anger after the fact won’t cut it with me either, and no, I’m not presently pissed at anyone who later on down the road told me something I said or did pissed them off when they could’ve told me when I supposedly said or did this offense. It’s merely a fact I’m stating and nothing that’s aimed at anyone in particular. I’m not dropping any hints and trying to tell someone something in a roundabout way.

If I say I believe some of my “friends” may not really be true friends if they would leave me to starve on the streets instead of helping me only to end up saying that I just “didn’t try hard enough” after I was dead, that does not mean I’m talking to whoever may be reading this. It’s just a fact same as if I said I was chewing gum right now.

The rich get picked on just like the poor do, only not as badly. Another observation. People have picked on me for my “poorer” moments in life and the dingy little trailer we live in. I, like many others, am often blamed for circumstances beyond our control. If you’re poor it’s automatically assumed it’s your fault, you asked for it, and you must be lazy. Well, either that or a drunken druggie.

But the rich get their share of shit, too. Rich people are automatically assumed to be selfish, stingy, insensitive little snobs who only give a shit about themselves. Sometimes that may be true, especially if they never knew what it was like to struggle, but they still have their own stigmas as well.

Did I settle for Tom and give up on women? Someone asked me this and it was accidentally deleted when trying to get all that spam out of my blog. Definitely didn’t settle for Tom but I did give up on women. You can’t make be what isn’t meant to be, but I believed I was going to be alone because I’m not a settler. So when I met Tom it was an unexpected surprise. I settled a few times when I was young and felt bad for it. Solitude is better than second best. At least to me, it is. But sure enough, once I stopped trying and was taken, out of the woodwork came the women. There were a few in-person I could’ve had just for casuals and almost did have till whatever’s up there that decided it wasn’t meant to be for whatever reason came in and interfered. Either they moved away, I moved away, they were online and too far away, or whatever. It still goes to prove those right who say they come around when you least expect it and when you’re not looking. Seek and you shall not find.

FRIDAY, JULY 13, 2012 It’s been so hot I’ve wished we had a pool! Soon enough we will even if it won’t literally be “ours.” I just don’t know if we’ll have it before it starts cooling down. Then again, it doesn’t cool down till November here and where we’re going is likely to be a little warmer than here.

The house we want most is both in and out of reach. We could make the down payment and we could afford the $800 a month for the lot. That’s not the problem. The problem is that until the place is paid for, things may be a bit tight. We could probably afford the mortgage, assuming they’d let us have the place, but there wouldn’t be much room for savings and that’s how you end up in risky situations. I like how they dropped the price from 42K to 24K, though.

I hope nothing’s wrong with Andy. I haven’t heard much from him. I suppose he’s just busy catching up on work after being on vacation. I hope that’s all it is. He’s usually as free as I am busy on weekends, so if I don’t hear anything over the weekend I’m going to be a bit concerned. Maybe he just met the love of his life. :)

Facebook added a really cool feature. One that MySpace has that I wished for so long Facebook would add and that’s the ability to tell when someone’s read your message that might not have time to reply to it. No more wondering if they got the message or if FB is screwed up.

THURSDAY, JULY 12, 2012 How nice (and a bit surprising) it was to hear from Christiane again. We’ve been talking about various climates and how we both want to live in a tropical climate someday.

I must’ve jinxed myself when I wrote how glad I was that the troll hasn’t been playing peeping Tom on me or pestering me, cuz she was in my blog last night. :( The fact that she landed on a post that starts off welcoming Aly back to MO (remember, Aly’s the root of her obsession) leads me to believe she jumped in from Facebook. I’m not surprised. The nutjob creates new FB accounts faster than we can block them. So for the sake of protecting my friends who she can link to through their comments on my posts, it’s back to friends of friends on Facebook instead of public. I’m not saying she’s going to go back to pestering my friends. But she’s done it many times before so I didn’t think it would hurt to take precautions. I’m not changing settings on any other site, though. Anonymous comments on my blog and Ask are still allowed.

Tom saw a fire that looked like the mountainside was ablaze on his way home from work yesterday. Fortunately, it’s not too close (though it is somewhat close) and we shouldn’t be in danger but man does this place reek of smoke! It’s been that way since last night when the winds picked up. I just hope to hell they get the damn thing under control before it can spread any further! Not even incense is masking the damn smokiness. I haven’t had any nightmares signaling impending danger ahead, so hopefully we’ll be ok.

Tom and I didn’t “go home” last night in my dreams but we did go cruising.

Finally busted a nail when housecleaning yesterday, so I cut that, plus the one next to it that had a snag in it. I almost hacked them all off but decided to wait.

Later…

I can see him. I can see my dad as clearly as if he were here in this room with me even though I haven’t seen him since 1997. The tanned, weathered skin from the Florida sun sprinkled with age spots. The rings and bracelets he regularly wore. His warm smile, gray hair, and the hazel eyes I myself once had till the damn things went green on me in my early 20s.

It still blows my mind at times to know I can never see him again. Never hear his voice. Never receive any cards or notes from him, even though he was like most people and not into writing. I’ll never call him up to share good news with him or cry on his shoulder when times get tough. He is forever gone until and if we meet again in the afterlife that may or may not exist. None of us can know for sure till our own time comes.

The smoke has cleared so I’m assuming either the wind has shifted or they got the fire under control. I’m just glad, whatever the reason.

I chatted with most of my usual online buddies today and hung my wind chimes back up. I kind of missed hearing them, and if we’re not gonna get out of here for a few months since we’re not willing to settle, why miss out on hearing them? Maybe it will help “jinx” speeding up the process a bit, though I’m not really sure we can take them with us. There are several of them and they can get kind of loud. If our next neighbor’s going to be an arm’s length away, they may not appreciate them very much. I don’t know that the park even allows them. Come to think of it I don’t remember seeing them hanging anywhere in any of the places we’ve seen either on or offline. So if we can’t take them we might as well leave them here for the next people to enjoy when the dogs aren’t barking.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 11, 2012 Tom found a site that tells what ages are accepted into the various adult communities. We just learned that one of the ones we recently looked at is all-55 and up. So that rules out the Country Villa. The Diamond K Estates requires just one of you to be 55. This really ideal community that’s too far away requires one to be 55 and the other at least 47. So it varies from community to community. What I don’t like is that all the best deals on both homes for sale and for rent (I’m still open to renting so long as the landlord didn’t live with us and we didn’t have to share the lot with anyone) just happen to be too far away. Why is it I suspect that’s not a coincidence and it’s just something up there working against us as usual?

Another cool setup we discovered is where you don’t continue to pay to rent the lot your home is on after the home is paid for. Instead, everyone who lives there owns the park. You pay 10K for your share of the land, then for your home. After your home is paid for you only pay $397 a month in Homeowner’s Association fees, plus your utilities, of course. Talk about saving money! We’d save over a grand a month that way. jumps for joy at all the nail polish, perfume and lobsters she could get Then if he were laid off before he retires, no problem. With something this cheap I totally wouldn’t mind something that was dumpy on the inside because we’d have plenty of money to make it what we wanted it to be, pink champagne carpet and all. It may be fun, and then we’d get to pick out the exact styles and colors we wanted.

Our best bet, however, is probably going to be finding a park that does its own financing so we don’t have to deal with banks and loans and all that fun stuff. The problem is while there are plenty of them out there, they don’t advertise online. They prefer people to learn of them via word of mouth. So we’re gonna have to get back out there and get the phone numbers off some of those for sale signs we saw, and now we’ll know which places not to waste time on since we can now look up the specific age requirements per park/community.

sighs That’s twice I had to yell up at the fucking mutts to shut the hell up. Really don’t want to have to put the sound machines on now. At any given moment there are dozens of pistols and shotguns within a 1-mile radius of us and hundreds of bullets yet not one of them can make my day by ending up in these mutts’ heads? Then again, why bother? The “lawn ornaments” would just be replaced in a matter of days.

So what was I saying before they interrupted my train of thought? Oh yeah, the phone numbers. We’re going to have to get a hold of those, but in a week or two, we’ll probably enlist the help of a real estate agent who can hopefully point us in the right direction. The only reason we’ve been hesitant to tell them specifically what we want is that they will do what’s best for them and what makes them the most money, and not what’s necessarily the best deal for us. No one truly does for you unless they love you or have a crush on you.

Later…

Andy says he’s been busy and angry (not at me) and Kim is being her usual crazy self. Aly received a “question” on Ask saying: concerned tweeter here ur friend “kimball” no allow anonymous questions no mor so i ask u. y she hav so many profiles? rythemraindrops, russosgirl, wassgurlie, rainrythem, weatherchick101. sur shes got others 2. but she got issues or sumfin cuz iz lyk multiple personality n jus real weird.

I first wondered if it was Kim herself until Aly told me of her reaction when she shared the “question” with her. It doesn’t seem Molly’s style, so as Aly said, it’s probably someone who’s spent an awful lot of time studying Kim’s strange online behavior. Having multiple accounts is one thing, but having multiple accounts with different names and bios is another.

Nonetheless, Kim reacted the way she always does when she’s guilty of something – deny, delete, delude, disappear. This is why I think it may not be her that asked this question. Aly’s going to text her with: If it’s not you behind all these accounts, why did they all suddenly disappear?

LOL, that’ll piss the skitzomaniac off. She also deactivated on Ask cuz of that question. rolls eyes Really, how can anyone be so stupid as to be so obvious like that???

It could also be someone whose native language is Spanish. The way they say “no allow anonymous questions,” well, in Spanish, there is no equivalent for words like don’t and doesn’t. You simply use “no” for those kinds of negatives. Yo no se = I no know. Spanish has fewer sounds and words and many more words tend to have multiple meanings. There is no “it” either. You usually use “is” instead. Es aquí = Is here.

I still can’t believe she two-faced me like she did after I was so nice to her for so long. Yet the whole time she hated my guts and I’ll never know why. Maybe she’s too crazy herself to even know why. It’s just ironic that the harassment stopped as soon as I confronted her, even though she gave me her classic reaction and became very angry, and accusatory and denied it all the way before deactivating and running off. Again, is she crazy? Or is she just so damn unbelievably stupid?

Molly still checks in on Ask periodically to answer questions she asks herself, a few she doesn’t, and to ask Aly a few of her own. Although they’re anonymous, the “how are yous” are just very Mollyish.

What I don’t get is why Molly’s been so well-behaved lately. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’m enjoying every single second of it while it lasts. But why hasn’t she shown up on TIP? She wouldn’t be smart enough to blind a tracker. Or would she? Her friend Sarah helped her beat my Tumblr block so you never know. But I don’t see why she’d want to hide from me. That was part of the fun for her; making her presence known to those she knows would rather not have anything to do with her. And why hasn’t she pestered me anonymously on Ask or Facebook?

For now, I’m loving the freedom of not being trolled by this shithead. I can post publically now on Facebook, allow for anonymous comments on my blog and Ask and more. Es ist Wunderbar!

Nane’s brother Toby “liked” one of my funny wall posts. No one enjoys them as much as Marie and Cindy but I’ve been posting half a dozen or so a day. Some of them are quite hilarious.

I chatted with Christiane a bit today too, though all we did was exchange messages. I complimented her new profile and cover photo, saying they were all nice as long as they didn’t have snow in them. She thanked me, then asked, “Why not snow? It can be so nice.”

LOL, not to me!

TUESDAY, JULY 10, 2012 The battle of the bees still wages on and unfortunately, they’re winning. The good news is that where we were at a dollar a bee based on the cost of the trap and how many bees were in it, now we’re down to 50 cents a bee cuz there are about 20 bees in the trap now. Sunrise and sunset are when they’re most active since we’re having triple-digit temps. It’s just that some of them like to stop off and torment me in the bathroom before I give them their final send-off to the pearly gates.

Ok, now listen up, folks! Our internet connection has gotten so bad and no one will help us that I’m seriously contemplating shutting down and just using our cell or the library till we get out of here in the next – IDK – 3 to 6 months based on all the hurdles our lovely God (if there is one) has thrown our way to help hold up the move. I just hate paying full price for part-time service whether we were rich, poor, or in between. I’m going to make a point of being online less often and getting more into my writing because I’m so damn fed up with it being hit or miss when I want to go online. So I’ll basically check for messages when I get up, post journals, and then check in again before bed. I just didn’t want people to think anything was wrong if it ended up taking me a while to get back to them or that I’m ignoring them or anything like that.

Later…

I’m not sure which home calls to me more. Both are doublewides with 2 beds/2 baths, but one’s cheap, ugly and far from work while the other’s more expensive, beautiful and just a couple miles from work.

Tom sent an email asking to see inside that 6K home in W. Sac that looked beautiful on the outside. I would’ve been really damn worried had they not responded, as that’d make the fourth person to blow us off. Something up there is against us enough as it is. Tom said he had no idea our credit was this bad, and while I couldn’t have told him the specifics, I could’ve told him the logistics – nothing up there likes to see me get the things I really, really want in life, and when I do get them it isn’t without a huge fight. So nothing’s going to make it easy for us and pave the way home. We are right where it wants us – in someone else’s bummy old dive. Would we have spent the last 7 years cramped into these places if that wasn’t what was “right” for us and what was “meant to be?” Ah, but bad things do tend to run in 7-year cycles, don’t they? Well, our number’s up this year! It just might take 3-6 months to get over the hurdles currently facing us and it’s not just our credit (or lack of it). Tom hasn’t been at his job for over a year. There are things we can do to boost our credit but it’s not going to happen in 5 minutes.

Anyway, they emailed pictures of the inside of the home and it’s ugly as hell. Not beat up and broken; just downright ugly. The place is not only old but it was never upgraded in any way. It also not only doesn’t have a dishwasher but it doesn’t have a refrigerator either. Still, we could buy it pretty much outright right now if we had to. This is the place we’d save about a grand a month at having to pay just $500 for the lot. So we could remodel the entire place.

But… I’d still prefer to go for the gold, even if it may be forever out of reach, and for one of the nicer places with a garage.

A Facebook friend posted a picture of a billboard in New York suggesting abortion alternatives. She wondered why blacks and Hispanics were the only ones pictured on those types of billboards since whites often struggle with their kids’ expenses as well. Well, since there just seems to be no escaping topics like God and race, she’s right. Whites do struggle with supporting their children as well. But could she perhaps be seeing racism where there isn’t any? I ask this because I think she is on this billboard because non-whites are the new majority in most places these days. In fact, I’m waiting for the moment a white is shown on some kind of billboard and someone cries racism on their behalf. Oh yes, reverse discrimination is alive and well in America today, my friend. In the courts, in the job market, everywhere. It’s real, it’s sad, and it’s unfair. But we also perceive things differently. She sees racism in that billboard, I don’t. Most people don’t take offense to the term Native American, but I do because I was born and raised here. So if I’m not a “Native American,” what am I? These days I think too many people are seeing racism where it’s not and not seeing it where it is.

MONDAY, JULY 9, 2012 Welcome back to MyOpera, Aly! I missed you there.

So what is it with some people? Why is it some don’t mind you hating groups they hate as well, but if you hate a group they don’t hate they’ve got a problem with you? Just something I’ve noticed lately in observing various people interact with each other online.

Reading back on some of my old journals from the '90s, I wonder what I am more, amused or embarrassed. But hey, I guess we’re all silly and naïve when we’re young, right? I just thank God my dreams and goals of today aren’t what they were back then. And I also thank God that the dreams I had either came true or I ended up changing my mind.

Change.

It’s amazing how our beliefs, desires, lifestyles and personalities can change with age, mine probably a little more than average. It seems the only things I’m still into are music, languages and writing, and when it comes to music I prefer to mostly listen these days as opposed to singing. Haven’t touched a musical instrument in years either. But so, so much of what I think, do, feel, believe, like, communicate, dislike, want and don’t want has changed. I still have my evil laugh, I’m still short, and I still love lobster, bright colors and rodents, but it seems so much more has changed than has not. I almost cringe at the thought of reuniting with someone I knew 20 years ago, LOL, for it’s only human nature to see a person as you last knew them to be. Only they wouldn’t be seeing “me” at all.

The fact that I would even bother with people like Fran and “Nervous” goes to show how little self-respect I once had. I would put up with so much abuse from so many people for so long. Being too forgiving can be just as bad as being too non-forgiving. Ah, but I am totally way beyond fed up with the “disbelievers” out there and have totally run out of patience and tolerance for those who can’t trust me enough to take my word for whatever. Those who feel the need to challenge and contradict me with things like, “Yes, you would,” after I’ve answered with a “no” to something they or someone else who may be present asked me really irks the hell out of me. When you do that to someone you’re basically calling them a liar. At my age, I’m getting a little too old to deal with people like that, and again, it’s a matter of respecting myself and knowing there are better things to do than sticking around and explaining or defending my word to whoever. The next person who can’t take me for face value will be forever dumped in a heartbeat with no chance of being forgiven! Why waste time fighting with a bear when you can just shoot it, you know? Really, if you think I’m “joking” or just trying to impress you by saying I’m multilingual or something like that, then I’m not the right friend for you. If you think I’m using my deformed and half-deaf ear as an excuse not to clean the bathroom, go get yourself a friend whose word you feel you can trust.

Later…

I called my mom and was glad to learn she was out of her cast and able to get around unassisted. No crutches or anything like that. She didn’t sound as depressed, but she didn’t sound happy either. She was just there, you know? Like she’s existing but not living. We didn’t have much to say to each other. I just wanted to let her know I was alive and see what was up, though sometimes I wonder why we bother. I mean, I feel sorry for the woman, but at the same time, I don’t. And does she really care about me? IDK, maybe it’s my imagination but sometimes I feel like she’s not happy to hear from me. Not mad or upset, just IDK. I really don’t know. Then again, the woman is 80 years old. Can one really be all that sure of an 80-year-old anymore than they can be sure of themselves?

One minute I’ll remember the physical but mostly emotional pain she caused me and be like, fuck it, and fuck her. Next, I’ll remember the good she’s done me, and Tammy if you see this and you mention this to mom I’ll put a nasty spell on you! I swear I will. I’ll make everything you eat turn into a cucumber for a whole month. Seriously, keep your lips sealed.

Because it’s been so hot lately, the bees are most active when the sun first comes up and when it sets. Right after Tom left for work I looked out and saw 5 newly caught bees buzzing around in the trap. That’s the most I ever saw in there at once! Just when I was thinking we weren’t getting our money’s worth. The trap was about 10 bucks, but there were only about 10 bees in the thing before today. That’s a buck a bee! Kind of a pricy trap.

But then I turned around and there is another one of them fuckers in the bathroom window. So much for spraying under the sink as we did from both inside and outside. Since we could still be here for a few more months, we should probably bomb again. That’ll back them off for a while.

The sad thing is that they can nest anywhere. Literally anywhere. In the ground, in trees, indoors, outdoors, in open spots, enclosed spots – anywhere.

Saw this incredibly cool nail polish at Sephora’s site that has iron particles in it. The cap has a magnet in it and you hold it over the nail and it creates this really cool pattern. They have a fishnet and a wave pattern, but the reviews on the fishnet weren’t good at all, so I’ll eventually try the wave.

What is it with my nail polish obsession lately? LOL, Most women would probably envy how long all my nails are right now. Not daggers but long enough. They’re getting to the point of being a bit annoying when I write, but they feel oh so good when I scratch an itch or my scalp.

I removed the Ice Queen earlier and threw on a coat of the Iceberg Lotus with stripes of Wedding Crashers over it. I don’t usually like dark colors but I really like OPI’s Play Till Midnight. It’s a deep dark satiny blue. I also like Nicole’s Cobalt Purple Passion and then there are a few neons I wouldn’t mind adding to my collection in pink, green and yellow. The one color that I’ve never had that I don’t see myself ever trying is orange, and I definitely won’t touch the gray and olive. Ew! Those two are the ugliest colors in the world!

Really getting worried about my weight. Am I simply not cutting back enough or is something wrong with me? On the one hand, most people are fat so it’s unreasonable to assume something’s wrong with them all, but on the other hand, most don’t bother to cut back and work out either. Yet here I am not just struggling to get weight off, but to keep more from coming on - WTF??? Every few weeks or so I seem to be up a few pounds. How long is this going to go on? Until I hit 150? 200? 250? It’s getting to be a bit of a scary thought.

“I’m the good Bill. I don’t come in the mail, I come in the female.” ~ Bill Clinton.

LMAO!

SUNDAY, JULY 8, 2012 “You’re not going home, Jodi.” That was the message in the reoccurring dream I had for months back in Oregon. The “message” was delivered through half the damn town. I’d pass by Jan at her old store, she’d ask how I was, I’d answer, then she’d say, “I’m sorry, Jodi, but you’re not going home.”

I’d check out at the grocery store and hottie Liz would tell me to have a nice day, then, “You’re not going home, Jodi.”

Then Randy the mailman would bring me my mail, greet me with a friendly nod and smile and say, “Sorry Jodi, but you’re not going home.”

This was just a couple of years after losing our home and land in Arizona and then the land we had planned to build a home on in Oregon. It was also at a time when I was into entering sweepstakes and contests.

In real life, Randy came around shortly after this dream and started off with, “Sorry Jodi.” Just when I went stiff as a board and no doubt pale as a ghost, he said, “But I don’t seem to have any wins for you today.”

Just the way he started off so similar to the dream was one helluva creepy, freaky experience!

Backing up to the series of dreams and what they meant. To me, they represented the obvious; that we wouldn’t be homeowners again anytime soon if ever again. Well, that’s the way it has been ever since we last owned a place in 2004 and that’s the way I thought it would always be. Although it took a little time, I grew accustomed to renting once again for the first time since 1993. I was even ok with it, liking the fact that we didn’t have to pay for anything that broke that wasn’t ours. The management company, although they ripped us off in the end by denying us our deposit despite the fact that we left the place spotless and undamaged, never bothered us. They didn’t show up unannounced on a regular basis and the place didn’t have a million problems despite its age.

Then we came here and things were just the opposite. Our landlord comes down anytime he feels like it, the place has regular problems, and it has made me miss owning a place and being the boss of what happens and when so long as it isn’t urgent. The number of times we’d have to pay to fix things could never compare to how many times I’m either annoyed by the landlord himself, his dogs, or worry that he’s going to wake me up depending on what my schedule is at the moment.

The economy has also knocked what are normally 100K - 200K houses and modulars down to 15K - 100K. For the first time in years, I saw possibilities that just weren’t there before and that I thought never would be there again.

If you read my blog yesterday, you’ll know we went and checked out a rather nice 55+ park. Well, now the question is, was last night’s dream a sign of something good to come, or was it merely a reflection of my wishful thinking? The dream certainly suggests we just may get into this place, but I’d rather not state the name of the estates in public or where it is.

The dream only lasted a few seconds. I asked some woman (someone in the sales office?) about plants, trees, or something to do with landscaping. The only part of her answer I remember was the last few words… “Because of the flower arrangements.”

We also apparently had a bird we kept outdoors because it was rather loud. LOL, nothing we’d ever have in real life. I’m not a bird person anyway. But I asked if we could keep it outside and she said, “Sorry, but you won’t be able to keep anything like that outside here.”

The thing about it is that in the dream I thought to myself that I would miss the bird but would be perfectly ok with giving it up. Like I knew we were going to live there.

Christiane did “poke” me back after all. I was wondering if she would. Thanks, good looking. :)

Later…

The road home has been a long one that has required tons of research and sightseeing. We drove past a senior park here in town and wouldn’t even go into it as we didn’t like how it looked from the road; all dumpy single-wides. We love the idea of saving money, but we want to find something we can live in comfortably for the next 10 years, too. Hopefully, we will be able to find a good balance and get something between dumpy and fancy. I don’t need to have the fanciest place anyway. Just one that isn’t so damn old and ugly.

So we headed into both Rocklin and Roseville. A park we checked out in Rocklin seemed in between the dumpy Auburn park and the nice Roseville park. It was beautiful, but nothing that would take your breath away. I like the Roseville park better as it had wider streets, garages, and a little more breathing space around the homes. The Rocklin park also had modulars and not trailers, but they didn’t have garages and the streets were so narrow it was hard to believe two cars could pass each other on them. It was still very well maintained with beautiful flowers everywhere.

Saw some old folks sitting outside their places, and one guy even said good morning to us as we were slowly cruising by, and you definitely had to go slow. Not only because the roads have many curves and turns, but also because there are speed bumps in the roads. Another thing is that there’s only room for one car to park in the narrow driveways. Forget being set close to the road, these places are practically right on the road. So excessive company would hardly be a worry there since there’s no on-street parking and no place else to park all their company. No room to leave dogs outside regularly either from what I could see. It too, was walled off, so there’d be no outsiders passing through it with blasting car stereos and shit like that.

So then we came home, jumped online and found a place in a park in West Sacramento for just 6K! The catch? Well, it’d be a bit of a drive to work for Tom, and the place, although beautiful looking from the outside, is probably a dump on the inside. Especially since they didn’t show any pictures of the inside other than the living room, and they mentioned it needing some TLC. The thing is estimated to be 30-40 years old. This place is 45 years old. It was well-shaded and appeared to have a little more space around it. Loved the pink flowerbed that ran along the front of it and the bright cheery sunny yellow color of the place itself. We estimate that we could comfortably save nearly a grand a month there, which would allow us to fix the place up, but we don’t exactly want to play fix it and we don’t want Tom to have such a long drive to work, though we also looked at getting a newer car that wouldn’t guzzle as much gas. Either way, it’s there as a possibility, though at that price it may sell fast. They already reduced it from 14K.

There is still so much research to be done as there are so many possibilities, each with its own set of pros and cons. So getting out of here next month is unlikely. It could take till the end of the year, but I’d rather take longer to get it right and make a smart move this time around than act in haste and end up regretting it. We’ve done stupid enough times in the past. Now it’s time to do right.

Been doing quiet, but that’s cuz of the heat. It’s going to be around 100° all week. I was surprised at how hot I felt when we were out this morning yet it wasn’t even that hot yet. Have I really grown that sensitive to heat since leaving the desert? Or am I just that fat?

I was surprised to wake up the same weight as yesterday despite how much I ate yesterday, but I think I might be up tomorrow. I did the math twice and I don’t think I went over 1500 calories today. Still, that’s a little high for a short middle-ager. I should take it down 200-300 cals. I just don’t know if I could stand the hunger and fatigue.

The internet is out (what else is new?) so I’ll have to post this later or tomorrow. What else can I say for now? Well, the best deal we actually saw so far, though only online, was a land/house deal for 74K where they finance it themselves and you don’t have to deal with banks or anything like that. The places were also laid out more like traditional houses, set short side to short side instead of long to long. I like that better as it gives you more space around you, but that also leaves more room for people to get more dogs and leave them outside.

Anyway, the net will probably be out for hours and by then I’ll be in bed, so I’ll just post this in the morning. I really hope we have a better connection wherever we end up! This is getting really ridiculous!

SATURDAY, JULY 7, 2012 I feel so bad for my sister Maria. She’s not my biological sister, but she and I share a special kind of kinship that will forever bond us as sisters, and that was that we were both victims of Valleyhead. The so-called private school for girls that was run more like a prison. Everything we did, said, and ate, along with when was dictated to us, and that’s only the things that were allowed in the first place.

Today Maria is a victim of the economy much like we were. She’s staying with friends and while no one has asked her to leave, she’s only got a couple of weeks left of unemployment. After putting in zillions of applications only to be denied a lousy job, she’s about to journey elsewhere in hopes of someone allowing her to work. It’s not only tough to find work when you’re older, but when you’re female and white. These days it’s the so-called “minorities” that get first dibs on life’s opportunities. Like it or not, unfair or not, the young, male non-white is considered today’s favorite in society. This is why I damn near want to scream every time I hear them bitch about how rough they think they still have it in today’s world.

As Maria herself said, though, she’s teachable. She’s able-bodied, willing and ready. But the color of her skin and the date on her birth certificate has apparently held her back right along with her body parts. It’s sad. It really is. But it’s not only sad, it’s sick. Had I been magically cured of my sleep disorder and able to start job-hunting right along with Tom back when he was looking, I don’t doubt that I’d still be hunting today.

Anyway, my heart goes out to you, dear sis. I hope that someone somewhere soon enough will see past your age, color and gender and give you the chance you so richly deserve. I know you too, have nothing against the young and the not-so-white but are sick of the unfair treatment going on in order to “avenge” the past.

Later…

Tom’s in the shower now, then we’re FINALLY off to the IHOP, then to Walmart.

Except for a few yips and power tools that fortunately can only be heard outdoors, all’s been pretty quiet. It usually is quieter here in the summer anyway thanks to the heat. Wish it could be hot and dry all year long. Then all I would miss would be the rain.

I would have been down another pound for sure. No doubt about it. But with the combination of eating my last meal too early and being up for 18 hours, I had an extra 500 calories yesterday. I’m lucky I’m only up two-tenths of a pound and no more. I’m taking today off from the treadmill and the diet, though, like I usually do on Saturdays. Hey, IHOP alone is going to be like two days’ worth of food!

Later…

After a busy morning, I’m now kicking back and relaxing along with Tom. I probably won’t be online anymore today after I post this. Breakfast at the IHOP was great, although there was something making this strange sound every few minutes or so the entire time we were there. I’m not sure what it was. It was sort of in between a squeak and a chirp, like on someone’s gadget or something. It wasn’t that annoying, though, as opposed to screaming kids, but we were fortunate enough not to have to deal with any of those.

I was going to get a pitcher like the one on my desk to keep in the refrigerator so I could have a cold drink of water after my workouts. These pitchers hold about 4 cups. But then I saw these beverage dispensers that hold 6 cups and decided to keep that on my desk instead and throw the pitcher I had in the fridge.

I read online that nail polish remover with acetone was better for removing glitter nail polish, so I grabbed a jar of it, thinking it was like my non-acetone remover that had a sponge in it. This one’s so cool because you stick your finger in the center of it instead and there’s a little brush that helps scrape off the old polish. It still takes a little longer than removing non-glitter polish, but not as long as it used to when using cotton balls on even the non-glitter stuff. My fingers are a bit short and skinny, though.

Naturally, I couldn’t resist grabbing a bottle of Ice Queen to add to my ever-growing collection of nail polish. It’s just ok, though, and actually looks better in the bottle. It has different grades of glitter in it. The really fine kind I like best, plus some bigger pieces in the shape of a circle. The bigger pieces are hard to get on cuz the brush tends to pull them back off as you apply it. Every single one of my nails is long right now. Once they start interfering with my typing, I cut them. A week later they’re long again, though, LOL.

I also got that purple eyeliner with the pink glitter covering half the pencil.

Someone asked me “wherez your buddy Andy?!” on Ask and my first thought was Aly, Kim or Molly. I asked Aly on Facebook if it was her as she sometimes asks questions when she’s at work and doesn’t want to sign in. She said no, but wondered if it could be Kim because she asked her about Andy a couple of weeks ago. I guess the little skitzo thought that maybe he was harassing her or something, though I highly doubt he was.

As for Molly, last she heard was that her parents were keeping such tight strings on her that she was only allowed online a few hours a week. Yeah, I knew she didn’t just suddenly get sick of us after all these years. Thank God those damn parents are finally doing something about that fucking nut instead of making lame excuses for her and blaming her actions on everyone else. Sooner or later, though, the parents are going to think a miracle has entered their home and their lives and blessed their crazy daughter with a dose of sanity and forget the fact that the crazy don’t get uncrazied. Not by pills, not by outer forces, not by themselves, not by anyone giving them a pep talk, not by anything. Once crazy, always crazy. So knowing that the crazy stay crazy, I know I can count on her returning with a vengeance someday. Only difference is that next time around I will not allow her to drive me into hiding or to change my online habits. She will not steal my fun and ruin it for others as well! Sie wird nicht! Nein, sie wird nicht! But I will continue to hide my friend lists on Facebook and MO.

Although we plan to do more touring of adult communities tomorrow, we drove through a rather high-end 55+ park. It’s a beautiful gated community with a pool, a clubhouse and more. The cool thing is that they have no old dumpy, single-wide trailers there. They’re all doublewide modulars with garages. It wasn’t the most breathtaking place I’ve ever seen, but it was still very nice. It reminded me of an adult community my folks once lived in. The only thing this place didn’t have that their park had was more palm trees and the ocean. After a handful of years, they headed inland for fear of hurricanes, though remained fairly close to the coast.

But Jodi’s not allowed to have it as fine as her mommy and daddy had it, so even though we saw some promising signs there, I still have my doubts that we could get the financing necessary to get a place there since our credit isn’t that good. I went to their website when we got home and they mention helping those with lower credit scores get financing in months instead of years and all that, but I’m not going to get my hopes up. Not after living in little old dumps for so long because the longer we live in them the more they were obviously meant to be, whether we deserve it or not, right?

Someone once told me, “Always think negative. If you think positive and things don’t go your way, the harder it will hit you than if you thought negative and didn’t expect things to go your way in the first place. But if they do go well after you thought negative, that’s all the more delightfully surprised you’ll be.”

Well, there’s no need to literally get all negative cuz I know we’ll get in somewhere sooner or later. We’ll just have to do some settling, but isn’t that what life is about for most people anyway? But I’m definitely not going to get my hopes up for any of the nicer places either. I don’t think we’ll have to settle for another single-wide, but I think that the doublewide we end up with probably won’t be all that nice. But if it’s ours and the people can be civilized, control their dogs and not live outside so damn much of the time, that’ll make it well worth it. I just miss being the boss of our own place.

I like how there was a sign at the entrance saying No Soliciting. Back in the city, I used to hate it when perfect strangers would come to our door on sales or religious calls. The Avon lady, the Girl Scout cookie sellers, the Mormons wanting me to join their hate campaign…

We saw 4-5 houses for sale (their site says they have 12, ranging from 24K - 118K) and Tom said that makes him think we have a better chance of getting financing, along with the fact that there were several cars parked outside the garages, a sign that some people living there are still working which would mean they wouldn’t mind me being under 55. Usually only one of you has to be 55 and the other has to be at least 45, so that’s the least of my worries. Besides, most people don’t retire at 55 anyway. I’m sure God would make sure we got the home-all-the-time neighbors, though that might be better than working ones. Ones who are home a lot may have more company, but if they work all day, chances are they’ll throw their dogs outside for me to have to listen to. If they’re home, though, they may at least let them indoors some of the time. I find it hard to believe anyone in California would dare let their dogs remain indoors all day long while they worked, and unfortunately, it’s when a dog’s owner is away from home or is tossed outside when company arrives that’s most likely to get a dog going.

I was a bit surprised at how many cars I saw parked outside some of the garages. One driveway had 3 cars in it, and one was clearly a business vehicle of some kind. Not sure I’d want that much traffic coming and going so close to me, and again, the houses are a bit close and close to the roads as well, but there’s no way we’d have to worry about kids skateboarding and playing basketball on the streets or loud car stereos passing through since there’d be nowhere to go in a gated community, and you can only have two small pets per household. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything that said you couldn’t leave them outside 24/7, so other than barking and car door slamming, I think it would be a pretty peaceful place to live. I just don’t think we could get in in just a few months.

FRIDAY, JULY 6, 2012 I’m looking so forward to the weekend and all we’ve got planned. I should have more to write about soon enough. I’d love to write now. It’s just that I’m exhausted and struggling to keep my eyes open.

So, not much more to say before I go to bed and hopefully get more moving signs from my dreams. Just that I fucked up on my diet today, but oh well.

THURSDAY, JULY 5, 2012 “Do you believe the Adam and Eve story?” someone asked me.

I don’t. How would you explain black, Asian, Indian and Hispanic people if we started with just these two white people? I think we started with a lot more than just two people which evolved from a lot more than just two apes.

Had another bathroom bee in here the day before yesterday. They’ve got to be coming from up under the sink. I sprayed the hell out of that area, but if they keep showing up we’re going to bomb again.

For just $20 we ordered replacement foam for my expensive Bose headphones. The originals held up for 4 years, so that’s not bad at all.

The more muscle I build that I can both see and feel, the more I want to build. I also want to lose more fat to show them off even more. The new eating intervals are working out, but I don’t know that I can lose a significant amount of weight this way because my calorie count may still be a bit high. At my height and age, 1500 is fine for maintaining so long as I exercise, but I may have to drop 2-3 hundred more to lose.

I only remember one dream and it’s nothing useful as far as possible moving information goes. We lived in an old two-story and had 3 rats. Well, I don’t know for sure that the place was old, but it was definitely two stories. We had a hooded rat like Ratsy was, a brown rat and a white rat. The rats were upstairs and I thought that it would be a good time to let them run around loose downstairs for fun and exercise. The Ratsy rat tried to nip me when I woke him up, but I knew he would try so I was ready for him. Then I looked down the stairs and saw the brown one was already down there. So I called to the white one who came running to me right away. A second later I was downstairs dropping lettuce on the kitchen floor for them.

I think there might’ve been one other dream where Andy and I lived just a short walking distance from each other, though I don’t know where.

I usually make two posts per day, but as you know, our Internet connection has been horrible. For some reason, though, it’s more stable during the daytime.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 4, 2012 Christiane has been ignoring me since I asked if she were my “pretty lady” commenter, so fine, I get the message, LOL. I will buzz off.

Again, if Aira wasn’t 300 pounds and Lori wasn’t so damn ugly, would I get so much attention from them? Would I still hear from them as much if they suddenly looked like a couple of German hotties I know? I know I said I shouldn’t take it personally as these things will reach out to anyone, but they say we subconsciously go for what we perceive to be our equals. So in other words I’m fat, ugly and not all there, right?

On the flip side, the uglies tend to be a helluva lot nicer than the hotties, though I don’t know why. I never could figure out the connection there, but that’s just the way it usually is. Hotties = bitches, uglies = sweeties.

Regardless of Lori’s looks and state of mind, she pesters me to join groups she knows I don’t want to join (I’m simply not the group kind of gal), and she posts conversations to my wall that have nothing to do with me, like her and Cindy’s discussion about their weather. Well, she’s in Virginia and Cindy’s in New England. Am I missing something there, LOL? I asked why it was posted on my wall, so we’ll see. I could always hide any unwanted posts, but it’s not hurting anything.

Speaking of my own extra pounds, a few have come off, though it’s probably mostly water at this time. I had an idea to try pushing most of my food out toward the end of my day. I have a set menu that I try to follow during the week. The later into my day it gets, the hungrier I get. So instead of spacing my food out at even 2-hour intervals, I’m trying to start off with 3-hour intervals so I can eat more once I’ve been up 12-14 hours.

Fireworks just scared the shit out of me for a second there. I forgot about those. It’s a good thing I’m up now. It literally sounded like someone was knocking on the wall of the trailer since they’re actually way off in the distance.

I never get headaches. Well, almost never. Yet I have a slight feeling of pressure in my forehead sort of between my eyes. I guess it’s sinus pressure, though my allergies have been stable.

There goes more firecrackers as well as Jesse on the motorcycle. This is the latest I think I’ve heard him leave on that thing. I turned on the sound machines as soon as I heard him, knowing the dogs would go crazy unless his kid or someone else was up there, which I doubt.

Polished my toenails 5 different colors. The big toes are light blue, then candy apple red, black, turquoise and magenta.

I dreamt I was looking forward to meeting my friend Adonis. But the funny thing was that in the dream I was thinking about how he was just up north of me. An indication we may make it to Spain someday? Really wish I’d get more indicators of where we’re moving to and when, but that’s the thing with dream premonitions. You can’t always know you’ve had one till what you dreamt becomes a reality. All I’ve “seen” so far are the colors blue and tan, driveway to the right, an orange tree in back, and the house number having 2 or 3, but probably 3 digits in it.

Since it’s so hard to get online between midnight and 6am, I’m going to make a point of working out and reading during those hours.

sighs Looks like there’s already no service. They’ve been turning us off earlier and earlier each night. I’ll get this posted as soon as I can.

TUESDAY, JULY 3, 2012 The cutting in and out of the Internet connection is driving me absolutely insane! It’s gotten so that I don’t want to be online but I also miss it, too. I miss being able to watch movies without them cutting out or taking forfuckingever to buffer. There are so many things I’d like to do but instead, I’m forced to mostly write, read, listen to music, work out and just wait till we’re out of here. But how many more fucking days am I going to have to deal with this shit?! And how many more weekends of barking?! Well, I may only be going to listen to someone else’s dogs when we move, but at least we’ll have a better Internet connection.

There are now 9 bees in the trap, so that’s 9 fewer bees that could’ve ended up in here. I actually saw one fly into the thing just before 7am.

Decided to go to the IHOP on Saturday instead as soon as it opens, then hit Walmart from there. I like to be present whenever possible for grocery runs. Not just to get out but because it seems to be hit or miss as to whether or not they have what I put on the list. That way I can decide what to substitute these things with.

Sunday is 55+ community stakeout day. Tom said that although he’s reluctant he might take me to the nicest place he’s seen so far on his way to work that he says is really, really nice. He says I won’t want to live anywhere else if I see it. But why see what we can’t have? I know I’ll never have it as fine as mommy and daddy got to have it. So why bother? The most important thing is not giving God a chance to screw us again financially. He wants to see us lose. He wants to see us suffer. So if we give Him, or whatever the hell is up there that would prefer to see us struggle most of our lives, a chance to beat us over the head with money, it will. Create weak links when chaining the areas you tend to be cursed in, and they will be broken for sure! I worry enough about our money being stolen, so we don’t need to make stupid investment decisions on top of it. Tom checks our accounts online at least once a day so he can report it right away if we’re ever ripped off. The rest is up to us.

For years I blamed myself for having a hard time attracting women I was attracted to and having a hard time not attracting those I wasn’t. But online experiences have taught me that it isn’t me and I shouldn’t take it so personally even if it has a way of making me feel downright ugly as hell at times. I think in reality it’s more a case of that I turn off the attractive women than that I attract the unattractive ones. I can’t help the way I look, though. I’ve never been what most lesbians consider attractive and I never will be. But I realize it isn’t anything about me personally - the way I look or the things I say - that attracts the uglies and the not all there. The fact is that they will reach out to anyone. And because I’m as nice as I am a bitch, these people know they can come to me with their sob stories because they know I’ll at least listen and that I’ve probably been there before myself. So yeah, I’m one of the “uglies” according to most of the better-looking lesbians and bisexuals, but I realize that I don’t quite have the talent I once thought I had for attracting what I myself consider less than attractive. They will reach out to anyone who gives them the time of day.

I don’t know why but for some reason it cracked me up when Nane told me my blog background was driving her crazy, LOL. I threw on something that isn’t animated for now. Then she won’t have to “read between the swirls.” hahaha

Got a kick out of how she deleted some unwanted comments from Dieter on a wall photo she posted. The photo showed 3 men, one Muslim, one gay, one black. “Labels are for clothes,” it said, then Dieter came in saying that the lunatics should be labeled while Nane insisted no one should be labeled, etc. Anyway, I always thought the old bastard was nothing but an argumentative, lonely old man with nothing better to do. Back when he added me he did nothing but complain about almost everything I posted. I was ready to tell him to just shut up or fuck off, but then he deleted me after rudely jumping down my throat for reasons I still don’t get. Perhaps there was a touch of Molly in the guy, IDK.

Ok, Miss Ugly to the Women but Cute to the Guys is going to go see if she can get online long enough to post this.

MONDAY, JULY 2, 2012 I can’t get online right now so I’ll post this when I can. I can’t wait to move! Not just for a bigger place with hopefully no overnight barking, but I am so, so sick of not being able to get online half the time, the slow connection, etc. Lately, they like to pick on us around midnight, though it’s erratic at all times. You just never know. Sometimes it hangs on for hours, then it’s in and out and in and out.

Calling AT&T and bitching about it is a complete waste of time because after being on hold for two hours you find that AT&T doesn’t give a shit whether or not you can get online because they know your only choice around here is them or nothing. So they’re not going to be in any hurry to give a shit about customers till they get competition in the area.

Maybe I will use the remainder of our time here to get back into my writing. I don’t need to be online to write, work out, do housekeeping, or read, though I do have to have a connection long enough to get books onto my Kindle.

Just checked to see if I can post this and I can’t. sighs I’ll go work out a bit, then try again later.

Later…

I probably shouldn’t bother making another post today with the connection cutting in and out, but I’ll give it a try.

I managed to upload a few hundred pics on MO to use in posts. That way I don’t have to upload individually, and if they’re having a problem with that at the time it won’t matter because I’ll already have tons of pics to grab for decorating posts. Despite having over 500 pics I’ve still only used 7% of my space. I really prefer to upload than to copy from Photobucket so people don’t get that ugly gray square that says, “Someone’s been popular this month! Upgrade to Pro now.” That’s what would happen when my monthly band usage got sucked up. The more I write, the more followers I seem to get.

Nothing’s changed as far as our shitty connection goes, so I’m still not going to do any more uploading of pics or old journals unless I get really, really bored, and that doesn’t happen very often. I’d love to go watch a movie now, but I don’t want to even do that till we get moved, knowing it’s hit or miss.

Bunny Nose wasn’t entered into the last NaNo contest because her author didn’t write enough words to her story, so maybe in August when they have their next contest.

Before it got dark last night we were up to two yellow jackets in the trap. Wonder how many we’ll catch today. I also wonder when I’m going to be tired. I ended up taking an unexpected nap last night for 2-3 hours. I don’t know why. I wasn’t tired and I didn’t take anything that causes drowsiness like some allergy pills can.

I guess I’ll go have a bite to eat now. Why not? Controlling my weight seems to be getting harder and harder by the minute anyway, and that hour-long workout sure worked up my appetite right along with my muscles.

Later…

Tom didn’t work any OT today and I could’ve sworn I had a dream with Nane in it but can’t remember it. I guess that means it wasn’t overly good or bad because then I would remember it for sure.

I hope it won’t be much longer before we get moved. It seems I spend too much of my life waiting for things. The move is holding things up too, like getting new rats and me seeing a dentist. I just hate to get a dentist here in Auburn only to find out we end up in Roseville. Or maybe Folsom or Citrus Heights. I just don’t want to get started with one dentist, and then have to transfer to another one. The salt and baking soda concoction is really helping in the meantime.

Tom will have Wednesday off cuz of the holiday so we just may finally get to use our IHOP GC early that morning before it gets crowded.

The weather’s been hot, dry as a bone, and the pain in the back of my left hand is really starting to piss the shit out of me. So is my weight. It’s getting out of hand again. If upping the diet and exercise doesn’t help it, I don’t know what else I can do. Sit back helplessly and watch the scale climb?

It’s still weird that I can’t just pick up the phone and call my dad. It’s like a part of my mind can’t accept that I’m never going to see or talk to him again, though I do accept it at the same time. Does that make any sense?

I’m still torn where my mother’s concerned, too. A part of me thinks I should call her since it’s been a month. Another part says, fuck it. Let the bitch worry and wonder about me. This is the woman who abused and then gave up on me as a kid, mother or not. sighs I don’t know what to do seeing that she also saved mine and Tom’s ass a few years ago, so yeah, fuck it. At least for now.

SUNDAY, JULY 1, 2012 It was so nice to be able to wake up again and check to see those who visited my blog while I slept. MO’s counter is totally messed up. I get way more visitors than it says I do.

Tom was able to find one of those bright, clear yellow traps for yellow jackets and already we caught one whereas the other wooden one with the strip of yellow around it that’s faded away never caught a single one. It makes for a pretty decorative piece alone if you like bright colors as I do.

MO’s back to not letting some of us upload pics. Oh, so they’re not going to fix the problem. Ok, I’ll link to my Photobucket pics and just hope Molly’s never as obsessed with me as she used to be so she doesn’t get overly click-happy and suck up my monthly bandwidth.

I hadn’t even been up an hour when I’d already heard Jesse on the motorcycle 3 times. I hate knowing when my neighbors are home or not. I shouldn’t have to know this. But he’s out right now, so I guess he’ll zoom back in anytime now and that’ll be it for the night. Since it’s Sunday night I should have the blessing of being able to watch a movie without the barking in the background (assuming I can stay online long enough to do so). But like I said before, if we still have to have one of those here-they-come-and-there-they-go neighbors at 200’, then we might as well not worry if they’re just 2’ away. I will, however, totally scream if we end up next to someone with a motorcycle or a loud car stereo. Technically there’s nothing that says we can’t just because it’ll be an adult community. They may own the park or the community itself, but they don’t own the roads.

[christopher-bryant]

i went to get my haircut today but i ended up walking out over some bs.

when i got there the chairs were full and there were some people waiting so i figured it would be a while. not a big deal. i could wait. my only plans for the were to go grocery shopping, pick up some paint and then do a meter reading at one of my accounts.

so the people in the chairs leave, people waiting go ahead of me. again no big deal! i got there after they did. naturally they would be first.

one chair opens up. i get up but the lady stops me and says she's waiting for her 10 o clock appointment. i give it a little grace at firsr. its 10 am. maybe they're parking or jusr getting here. i give it 5 min. thats it. i go to get up again and head to the chair. lady says no.

i try and tell her that im here and her appointment is not. she tells me that if no one is there by 10:45 she'll see me. absolutely fucking ridiculous. the other chairs were full of women getting their hair done so that was going to a while before one opened up. i was the only one left waiting for a simple cut.

i left and gave them an honest review of that shitty service

ended up just going to lowes, walmart and then went to best buy to get myself a ps5. so no haircut but shopping got done

[purplesurveys]

1943

Are you more afraid of death or not completely living? Not completely living. Death happens to all...I can easily accept that. But I don't think I can forgive myself if I end up not living my life to the fullest I can make it.

What are you most afraid of? I feel like my answer here changes every time I'm asked this, haha. To prove that point, today I'm feeling most afraid of being helpless in vulnerable situations. Scenarios like getting raped, being held at gunpoint or knifepoint, being demanded that I turn over my wallet... stuff like that.

If you had $100 dollars, how would you spend it? Hundred percent it'd go to savings. ~5000 bucks is still a very big deal and I don't want to spend it recklessly right off the bat.

What’s something you would love to have happen right now? For traffic in this country to be permanently eradicated, lol. I came from Makati earlier today and was in a State of Shock seeing EDSA still as stacked as goddamn ever. As if it was weekday rush hour. Unbelievable. I want to go out less and less everyday – the traffic takes up most of people's energy and patience anyway, lmao.

You were given the opportunity to get a new cellular device, what do you choose? I'd go for the iPhone 16, I guess. I'm not desperate to have it since the features haven't changed much, and my 13 still feels relatively new to me; but if I get a freebie pass for a new phone I might as well get the latest version.

How nice of a person are you, honestly? Tbh I try to be as nice as I can to everyone, but I admittedly have a bias toward service crew...or, really, anyone who is from a lower income class. Parking attendants, security guards, baristas, servers, Grab drivers... god knows how other people may have already treated them or spoken to them that day. So I'm nice. It's free to do. If the meal I wanted to order is out of stock, it's not the end of the world; let's just get another one. Versus older, entitled people who'd have a meltdown if their stupid fucking pasta is unavailable.

For people who look middle class or rich, I'm also nice but I generally keep it formal, if that makes sense. I'm just nice enough to not cause a scene – mostly because I expect more from them to be more educated and be just as nice. It's also the richer people who are more uptight or act super entitled, so I've learned not to overly bend over backwards for them.

Is there anyone of your preferred sex who tends to mess with your head? My mom sometimes does.

What have you recently gotten the most compliments on? My hair, since I dyed it brown a few days ago. It's still super fresh and noticeable, so people have been telling me how nice it looks.

Do and your best friend(s) act the same, or are very different from each other? There's many overlaps but I feel like in the grand scheme of things we're more different from each other than we are the same.

On a scale of 1 to 10 how shy are you? I want to say a 6. I won't shy away from small talk, but I also gauge my level of interaction based on how un-shy the other person is. If they seem talkative, I'd definitely talk to them. But if they seem introverted or don't want to be bothered, I won't force myself on them.

Have you ever fallen for your best friend? Yeah.

Who was the last person you made plans with? I asked my sister to go with me to the vet tomorrow for Cooper's monthly appointment.

Are you currently wearing a charm bracelet? Nopes.

Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Not currently, but my first Twitter username fucking sucked lol. In my (very weak) defense it was 2008, I was 10, and nobody knew yet what constituted a good or cringy username at the time...but in any case I think it's safe to say that username aged like milk and I try not to acknowledge its existence LOL

Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? Not me, but my sister. Girly is OBSESSED with plushies and anything animal-themed these days, so she's racked up quite the collection of animal-shaped stuff.

Do you ever get called the quiet girl? Yeah definitely, especially when I was in grade/high school. It wasn't my favorite environment so I just waited till college to open up.

Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? Yes, I have pretty bad and sensitive dermatitis :( I actually have a patch on my thigh now – it started itching on Thursday, and now it's equal parts bruise and equal parts rash. The rash I could understand, but I could not for the life of me understand why the edges started bruising.

Do you always clear your history after using the computer? No, not really. I clear my cache and cookies if I notice my usual pages not loading or if the laptop seems generally slower, but that's it. I don't want to lose past links.

Have you ever had your food stolen by a bird? Definitely could have happened before but no particular memory sticks out.

Do you have any Christmas pajama pants? Nope.

Do you ever wear red lipstick? Sometimes. Depends on the colors I'm wearing that day.

Did you go to high school with your current best friend? I did :)

Have you ever wanted to be vegetarian or vegan? Yes, when I was a teenager. I followed this vegan baker blogger who at that time for me was the coolest person in the world, and I wanted to be like her sooooo badly. I still find her very rad, but I've grown out of the vegan ambition haha. Only the super rich can afford being vegan here, anyway.

Do you like eggnog? I haven't tried it but I really want to and I also feel like I'd love it!

Who is the person you dislike the most? I dislike the people I dislike equally. There isn't one I'd have the strongest feelings for.

Girls, how old were you when you first got your period? I had just turned 10. Like, three weeks after turning 10.

Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? My parents insist I don't, but I hand them a certain amount anyway every two weeks. They can funnel that to anywhere they want.

What is your favourite way to eat rice? I mean there is no 'favorite' way for my Asian ass lmao. Rice is just rice for me; it's second nature and is in every meal I eat. Whether white rice, fried rice, kimchi fried rice, brown rice, bagoong rice, garlic rice...all of them are heavenly and are non-negotiables for me, hahahah.

Do your parents know how to text? Yeah. They were pretty much the generation that started the phone craze.

Do you text your parents often? Ish, but it's just in the nuance. I talk to/update them on Messenger all the time, but not so much in text format.

Do you watch Youtube videos often? I love YouTube hehe, I watch videos on it all the time and allot a few hours each day.

Do you prefer to have a lot of friends? No. Too exhausting at this point.

Do you sleep with one blanket or many blankets? Just one. You'd only ever need one here.

What is the FIRST thing you do when you wake up? Check the time and do the mental math re: how long can I keep sleeping. If I don't feel like going back to sleep anymore, I check Reddit for news.

What do you usually have for breakfast, if you do at all? I don't have breakfast; I'll just have a cup of coffee.

Do you have any rituals you perform before you leave your home for the day? Erm, not really. I have a basic routine, but not a ritual. I just put on minimal makeup, fill up my tumbler with water, and say bye to the dogs lol, nothing special.

Have you ever cried in front of your parents over a boyfriend or girlfriend? Nope.

What brand is your digital camera? I don't own one.

Who was the last person to cook something for you? The real, correct answer to this would be the crew at Yabu since I ordered food delivery from them for lunch today, haha.

Do you talk to any of your ex-boyfriends/girlfriends? Nope.

Do you know where your best friend is? She's either home or out somewhere with her fiance.

Who was the last person to comment you on Facebook? Angela, I think.

What is your display picture of on Facebook? It's me posing in front of the concert arena before Yoongi's show.

Have you ever kissed the same sex? Sure.

Have you stuck with your New Year's resolution? I don't make any.

Do you need to lose any weight right now? Nope.

When was the last time you had a period? Around two weeks ago.

How frequently are you inclined to read, and how much? Not very frequent at all, honestly. I just don't have the time; and when I do, I usually don't have reading as a priority. Maybe once or twice a month would be a good estimate.

How does the rain affect your mood, if it does? I like the rain and find comfort in it more than anything.

Chipotle order? We don't have Chipotle here, but Army Navy does have a Chipotle chicken sandwich that's literally my favorite fast food order.

Mythical creature you think/believe is real? Well, none.

Favorite form of potato? Fries.

First thing you’re doing in the purge? Idk but I think I'd definitely be hyperfocused on protecting the dogs.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? No, not since I was like 10. I don't even know who I inherited it from; my mom and dad have never needed prescription glasses, and yet I have horrible eyesight.

When was the last time you spoke to the last person you kissed? December 2020.

Have you ever been your friend’s shoulder to cry on? Of course.

Grab your keys and tell me what each one is for. I only have two – house key and car key.

What is your wine of choice, if any? I don't have any. I drink wine quite often but was never interested in learning the different kinds. All I classify them as is either This Is Okay or This Is The Worst, lol.

Is your bed against more than one of your walls? Yup.

Have you ever made out in your room? Last time? Sure. 4 years ago.

Do you have a crazy aunt? I can think of one Trump fanatic grand aunt and anybody who's on that side of the political spectrum is crazy, so.

Have you ever been to an art museum? Of course. Lots of them.

What fictional character/s remind you of yourself? Diane Nguyen and Monica Geller.

Are you afraid of spiders? A little bit.

Are you afraid of snakes? Only if they're out to kill me, lmao. Otherwise I've held snakes before.

Do you often post about politics on social media? Of course. To stay silent is to oppress.

[gamesbyalbie]

So, I started writing something this past week (inspired by DPR Ian's incredible music video for Don't Go Insane, and my feelings about [redacted]). This is all a work in progress and I'll be releasing it in sections. Anyways, here's the first part of...

The Cursed Journey

PART 1: PROXY

I don't sleep anymore. Anxiety and caffeine provide me with the energy I need to live and free up hours of otherwise wasted time. 

However—quite unfortunately—they've also stolen my ability to rest.

Most nights I lie in bed for 30-45 minutes but that's merely a formality, a tribute to a past life, a wish I'm certain will never come true. I get nothing from it—except for rare occasions where I stray close enough to dreaming to scrape up a bit of creative fodder—but it's one of the only things I do for myself.

Actually, it might be the only thing I do for myself.

It's not like I do it for long—I couldn't even if I wanted to (which I don't). It's just one half hour out of a full ass 24. Statistically, that shouldn't be the time when I get the most surprise calls. Yet, somehow...

"Fuck me. What now?" I growl, slapping my hand over my phone. It tumbles off the nightstand, because of course it does. A deeply dissatisfied groan rumbles out of my chest like distant thunder. Taking the sheets with me, I crawl halfway out of bed.

This is the third time this week. Who the fuck is it? I wonder, arms supporting my torso while my legs are still on the mattress, looking like I'm waiting for a wheelbarrow race to start. There's something degrading and weirdly primal about this position—stretching to reach my phone, grunting like an ape. I swear, if it's Michael, I'm going to—

The Ward

My blood runs cold. Shit. My arms start to shake. I slip down onto the floor and stare at my phone. It rings several more times before I finally gain the courage to answer. I press the button and a hologram of a woman's face appears. I recognize her and her bob vaguely—she has very distinctive bangs—but I can't remember her name. "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm calling for Ody Specter."

I can't tell if she genuinely doesn't recognize me, if she's being polite and pretending, or if she's following some kind of script. Then again, maybe I just look like shit. "You've reached them." I lean against the sharp edge of my bed frame. The discomfort clears some of the fog from my mind.

"Hi. This is Kelly calling on behalf of the Writer's Ward. Are you sitting down? I'm sorry to say that I have bad news."

That's all you call with, I want to reply. Instead I say, "What is it?"

"It's—"

"Is it Min-joon?"

"Oh, uh, no." She stammers. With how surprised she looks, you'd think I'd just jumped out of a wardrobe wearing nothing but a jester's hat. Probably the script then. "No, um, Mr. Park is stable as far as I'm aware."

The weight crushing my ribcage shifts. Nothing's alleviated, but it changes in nature.

"It's actually Kim Ji-yeon." There's a pause. "Mx. Specter?" Silence. "Did... did the call freeze?"

My mouth hangs agape. Less than two hours ago I was venting my frustrations and fears to Ji-yeon. She was comforting me. My brain cannot process this information. How? How could she— 

"Ji-yeon, she... is she there?"

"She's in transit to the facility."

"What? Uh, when? When did this happen?"

"Around 15 minutes ago." Damn, they move fast. Not that I should be surprised. This is their sole purpose and there's been no shortage of practice. "She made an alarming call to her editor. By the time emergency services reached her apartment, she was unresponsive."

How did the curse get her? Ji-yeon was the best of us. Of the few remaining writers, I would've picked her as the most steady, the most consistent and confident. Hell, she has two new books slated to come out next week.

Maybe... did I not see it? Could I have done something? Was it obvious? Min-joon would have noticed. No, shut up.

"I see. Um..." I rub the back of my neck while trying to force my eyes to stay open. I need coffee asap. "Okay. You need me to come down?"

"Yes, she'd selected you as her proxy. We need you to sign the onboarding documents for her. I believe you're familiar with—"

"Yeah, I'm well-acquainted with the process." Kelly's still relatively new. I'm certain I've done this more times than her. "When do you need me there?" I glance at my watch. 03:17.

"The flight carrying her is set to arrive within the hour. Can you make it here by then?"

"Sure." My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting off an inevitable headache. "I'll be there in ten."

"Great. Thank you. So sorry to bother you, I know you're probably hard at work. I apologize if this is distracting or..." She probably means to say "puts you at risk" but she's smart enough to leave that unspoken.

"It's no problem. I'm," not happy. "I'm more than willing to do this for Ji-yeon. She would've done the same for me."

She literally would have. It occurs to me that I'll have to select a new proxy. Maybe I should just sign my own papers now. No, shut the fuck up. "Anyways," I tear my mind away from that disturbing thought. "I'll see you soon."

"Alright, see you. Thanks again."

End

My hand falls limply to the floor. The phone clatters onto the concrete. I allow myself a few seconds to stare into space, but I have no time to spare. That's more clear now than ever.

My knees crack as I rise to my feet. I'd been sitting weirdly at my desk all day. In general, yesterday was a bad day. I barely passed 15,000 words and Michael's already breathing down my neck. Almost a month has passed since my last big release. I've been worried, fearful that my well was drying up.

"You're too hard on yourself. Go to bed. Reset your brain."

Ji-yeon told me that. She's the reason I was in bed. Shit. She knew I was "asleep." Is that why she called her editor? Would she have called me if she—

I get dressed quickly. Forcing myself to stop thinking. Well, thinking about that. My mind turns to stories, to the words I'll have to write on the ride over, because I can't stop now. 

This... this can't happen to me.

I won't let it.

End of Part 1 of ? • NEXT PART

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The amazing music video that inspired this: