#melanoma tramp

[rejectingrepublicans]

[republicansaretheproblem]

[spottedgalaxy46202]

Great, I'd like to nominated former First Whore, Melanoma Tramp be fast tracked for denaturalization and the chain immigrants that followed her.

[wdonnait]

Morto Rossano Rubicondi, ex di Ivana Tramp

Nuovo post pubblicato su https://wdonna.it/morto-rossano-rubicondi-ex-di-ivana-tramp/111908?utm_source=TR&utm_medium=Tumblr&utm_campaign=111908

Morto Rossano Rubicondi, ex di Ivana Tramp

E’ morto Rossano Rubicondi, l’attore e showman aveva 49 anni.

Era il quarto marito di Ivana Trump. A dare l’annuncio è stata Simona Ventura sui social.

Rubicondi era noto ai telespetattori per le sue partecipazioni ai Reality italiani, tra le quali quella dell‘Isola dei Famosi nel 2008.

La causa della morte pare attribuirsi ad un melanoma alla pelle

[themagicnut-blog]

Chapter 10: Butterfly Kisses pt. 2

While Dad and my step-mom and sister were down in June 2016, someone had noticed a spot on dad’s back that he promised to have tested for skin cancer once he got back up north.

He was always stubborn about going to the Dr. But all of the men on that side of the family were. Plus men are babies in general when it comes to that kind of stuff.

The tests had come back positive. Stage 2 melanoma. No big deal, right? They would just remove it, and the affected lymph nodes. Quick out patient procedure. Nothing to worry about.

The procedure had been scheduled for the end of October 2016, after he had flown back up from the week he spent down here with my son and I after he was born. Of course he was nervous. Heart issues and high blood pressure run in the family, and just being in a hospital setting was enough to send his blood pressure through the roof.

I remember him telling me that they almost didn’t do the procedure because of his blood pressure. It was too high. But instead of sending him home, they doped him up with meds and what not to help bring it down, and by 4:55 p.m. he was calling me still loopy from meds, and on his way home. But they had removed everything and all was good. Now all we were waiting on was the final tests to come back and confirm it had all been removed. I was in the middle of unloading groceries when he called and really only half paid attention to what he was saying before I rushed off the phone.

Shortly after that I received a picture message of his green pee LOL He was still feeling pretty good from the meds I guess. We texted back and forth awhile before I left his last message on read.

Like I said, the communication had made a drastic change for the better once my son came along.

Around midnight I had woken up to feed Cason, and while I was scrolling through my phone a Facebook message popped up from him asking what I was doing awake. We went back and forth for a good 30 minutes cracking jokes at each other, having a serious talk about the procedure, how his pain levels were now that meds were wearing off, and as I was starting to doze off I told him I was heading back to bed and he should too

Me, 10/29/2016 12:40 A.M.: I’m gonna try to get some sleep you should too lol Love you, night night

Dad, 10/29/2016 12:40 A.M.: Soon I hope, love you

Dad, 10/29/2016 3:05 A.M.: Y u up

The worst part about that last message is that I had woken up around 3 a.m. I even briefly considered messaging him to see how he was doing before falling back asleep. And I didn’t because he hadn’t been active in almost two hours. I assumed he was sleeping. Just 5 more minutes and I could’ve talked to him again.

October 29, 2016 5:30 A.M.

*Phone vibrating out of control on the night stand*

Why is my step mom calling me? Might as well get up and feed the baby…

“Sissy…*hyperventilating step-mom* SISSY wake up! Daddy. They’re taking Daddy.”

I couldn’t understand most of what she was saying through the heavy sobs. What I got out of it was that they were rushing my dad to the hospital. They thought he was having an allergic reaction to something he had been on from the procedure just 12 hours ago. Something about his tongue and neck being swollen. I told her she needed to calm down for my 12 year old sisters sake...all she said was that we can't lose daddy...And that she would have to call me back, and to pray. Pray hard.

I had gotten up and gone to the living room with the little one to nurse him in the rocking chair. We had been having quite a hard time with the breastfeeding, but I was still trying.

What seemed like an eternity had passed, when in reality about 15 minutes had gone by, before my phone rang again.

I honestly can’t even explain what I was feeling during that phone call. I don't remember a whole lot of the conversation beyond the initial sobs and my stepmom barley managing to spit out that he was gone. They weren't able to save him. My sister was bawling in the back ground. First thing I do remember is handing our son to George before I lost it completely. And then I called my mom. Shortly after we hung up she got to the house, and more family started calling to check on me as the news spread. By 8 a.m. we were all headed to grandma's where the rest of the family had gathered. I didn't see much of my son that day. The family took turns snuggling my dad's first grandbaby as a form of comfort while I sat outside with the rest of the cousins who were also avoiding all the stories and Facebook posts. Beer:30 started around 9 a.m. that day. Right along with my cigarette smoking habit that I had given up once I found out I was pregnant.

I know, shame on me.

They ruled it a heart attack. To this day I still feel like he would be here if they hadn't sent him home so soon. If they would've just kept him 24 hours to make sure his blood pressure was back to normal and everything was alright... But you can't sit around thinking of the what if's. It's not healthy. It doesn't change anything.

Life happens. You move on.

That's what I tell myself anyway...and anyone who still asks how I'm handling my father passing.

He had plans to fly back down with my sister and stepmom on Halloween. My stepmom and sister decided to keep the flight and arrived super late on Halloween night. My stepgrandma and stepbrother came to the house to surprise them once they got here. After the long hugs and them finally meeting their grandson and nephew for the first time, I got the little one to bed and we converged on the back porch to drink a few beers and talk. Again, most of that night is fuzzy. I was feeling pretty numb at that point. George was already making my father's death about him and freaking out over how quiet I was being. Apparently my response of "he's dead. He really wasn't around much to begin with. It's life," when he would try to get to me to talk about it just pissed him off. But George knew about the relationship (or lack thereof) that I had with my father...

Don't pry.

Just leave it be.

Even when I told him I just needed some time to process things and I would talk when I was ready he'd blow up on me and it would turn into an argument. But anyway, back to the back porch after my stepmom got into town... So, were all sitting back there. Me, stepmomma, brother, and stepgrandma. My sister had stayed inside with the baby and to nap. Stepmomma started going into more detail about what happened that morning, and everyone was crying but me. At one point they had all gotten up to group up my stepmom who was full fledged bawling, and I continued to sit in my chair, lost in thought, until she got up and dropped to her knees in front of me. She apologized. She apologized for taking daddy away from me. For not being able to save him. Promised that she did everything she could, and then continued apologizing. And what did I do? I consoled her. I played mom. I told her that she couldn't blame herself. And not once did I cry. I was too angry to cry. Angry with God. Angry with the doctors. Angry with myself for all the years of resentment that I could no longer take back. Angry with myself for being so jealous of my sister for her getting all of this time with my dad, when in reality he got to be there for things like my high school graduation that she'll never get to have now. Angry that my son wasn't gonna get to know my dad, his grandpa. Angry that he was gone when things were finally getting good. After more crying (on everyone else's part) and a few more beers, everyone went to bed. More family piled in the next day and everyone started making plans and arrangements for dad's service. I didn't have much part in the plans besides making sure that it wasn't a fancy event, and letting everyone know we'd be having a fire at my place and drinking afterwards...an actual celebration. The way dad would've wanted it. And again, George managed to make it about him. I still don't remember exactly what happened...basically he pitched a fit over something stupid because he had drank to much and decided to disappear for two hours with his phone turned off. Typical move for George. By the time he got back "we were over" and "he would watch our son for the service and then he was gone." Normal banter after we fight. You know how it goes. Strike 1. And of course this was all right after he had been telling me everyday since my dad had passed that he would never leave my side and always be there for me and to take care of me.

Ha, what a joke.

He made sure to catch a good buzz the night of the service too. And instead of staying sober to help me out with our son so that maybe I could be spending some time with my family, he was outside slamming beers and talking with a "family friend" that's quite the tramp and was getting awfully friendly. He didn't even noticed when I walked up and was standing right next to him until she made it a point of acknowledging me.

Strike 2.

We decided to have one last get together at grandma's the Sunday before everyone had to go back home. And suprise, I was left to tend to the baby, while George got drunk and spent time with my family. Oh, and the overly friendly family friend that just so happened to be everywhere he was when I would get 5 minutes away from my son.

My sister can be quite annoying, and she tends to show affection through physical pain...especially towards our brothers, and my boyfriends over the years. So, she was picking on George. George decided to respond with a little bit too much force (but that's what he does, especially when he's been drinking) and ended up welting the back of my sisters leg with a corn hole bean bag...and made her cry. My stepmom got in his face about it, as any mother would. And George jumped on the defensive side quick...which turned into him leaving, followed by a bunch of "fuck you" "fuck your family" "just because her dad died doesn't mean she has to be a little bitch" and then telling me that we were over and I could bring his stuff to him and that he wanted his half of the money out of the account. At this point he sounds like the adults in Charlie Brown any time we fight. Wah wah wah wah But this was the 3rd strike. Because now you've officially shown your ass in front of my family. And what did I do about it? Excused his behavior. As always. Jumped to his defense. And as usual, by the time I got home things were fine. My stepmom and sister left the next day and they didn't even acknowledge George before leaving. Not that he left the bedroom for them to do so.

[veronicainftl]

This is one award that melanoma tramp keeps winning. Lol 😂 https://www.instagram.com/p/B6JxvmrnjSTzIlN1JPOUIDJfbiPI8eJjG_7GWY0/?igshid=z8b2h9mdelri

[bryanevansdufflists]

6 Heartless Hussies Moving In On My Gramps For A Sick Bump-And-Go

You heard it: my sweet gram gram croaked the big one. I miss her so much it’s not even funny. But the worst part is that even though the paperwork is not even done on the farm she bought, the hussies have been flying over my gramps for a nasty one-night romp. Here are the worst ones.

  1. Edwina

First and foremost is Edwina, the flooziest off the floozies. She dared to show her gnarly face at grams’ visitation and took her sweet, sweet time through the greeting line. I call that “lingering for a fingering” and I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit!

  2. Mrs. Johnstone

Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that Doris Johnstone lost her husband just a few months before gramps lost gram gram? And that they both had something called “melanoma?” Sounds convenient. A little TOO convenient if you ask me! I don’t know for sure that Doris killed her husband so she’d be free to coax my gramps into a twisted one night stand, but one look into her sad, sad eyes tells me something has got to be going on.

 3. Mrs. Morris

There are fat old tramps, and then there is THE fat old tramp: Mrs. Morris. If Mrs. Morris had any shame at all, she wouldn’t be gunning for a roll in the hay with her BEST FRIEND’S husband! That’s right: I know all about your backstabbing, skanky ways! And I bet if my gramgram was still alive she wouldn’t want to play cards with your anymore. Or at least not as often.

 4. Lucinda Mae

Lucinda Mae, have you no shame? I get it, my gramps is a real catch: he’s a nice swole stud who gets his haircut twice a week. But Lucinda Mae I am pretty sure you are still married! Get control of yourself, you old hag!

 5. Noreen Williams

Of all the strumpets rolling up to my mom’s dear old dad, Noreen Williams surprises me the least. What else should we expect from Dirty Old Noreen? This is the same woman who prowls every church gathering flirting with any old man with a heartbeat - especially if that heartbeat is controlled by a Medicaid Pacemaker. I feel like telling Noreen “my gramps is an honest man, NOT the kind of scab you hit up for a quickie!”

 6. Great Aunt Charlotte

Come on, Aunt Charlotte! Gramgram was sister! Your OLDER sister! I don’t care that you never married! I don’t care that you and my gramps seem happy when you’re together! And I even don’t care that you told me that my gramps was the best man you ever met and you wonder if God had now given you a second chance since you felt like he might have been the one who got away. I know you said I should forget you said all that because it was just the silly ramblings of a sad old woman. And guess what: you ARE a sad old woman, BUT I didn’t forget! Get your own husband already! And don’t think I didn’t see you lock eyes with my gramps at the funeral. You’re trash to me now.

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

[spottedgalaxy46202]

Donnie von ShitzenPantz and his skank Melanoma Tramp suffer from the same delusion, that a n y normal person gives a rat's ass what these mentally ill individuals think. When the MAGAt cult collapses, who will they find to bring their constant lies and whining to?

Whiny Orange Voldemort

Back in August, Trump shared AI images of Taylor Swift dressed as Uncle Sam which said, "Taylor wants you to vote for Donald Trump." This was intentionally misleading, a lie. Anyone that follows Swift knows she can't stand Trump.

Almost immediately following the Harris/Trump debate, Swift posted on social media that she watched the debate, researched the issues that were important to her, and came to the conclusion that she was voting for Harris. Nowhere did she tell anyone who to vote for. She did encourage people to check their voter registration and to do their own research.

Trump, the living embodiment of a coward, is throwing a fit. Let's be honest, he was proven yet again that he is a lying sack of horse hockey. He hates when his lies are discovered and he really hates being called out for them.

Let's not forget his fear of strong, intelligent women.

Now the MAGA crowd are threatening Swift, her friends, and her family all because the orange baby is upset. There's even discussion of someone bombing Swift's concerts.

My question is simple: How is this behavior Christian behavior? Why are people who claim to be Christians following someone who is Satan's bosom buddy? I question anyone's Christianity when they support such a disgusting narcissistic, misogynistic, SAer who can't handle losing so he lies through his ugly orange face and makes up conspiracy theories that his fan base lick up like drug addicts.

[republicansaretheproblem]

[rejectingrepublicans]

[spottedgalaxy46202]

If lies are what we're doing, just go for minimally exaggerated truth; like First Whore Melanoma Tramp wants a chance to destroy even more historic areas in the White House. Donnie von ShitzenPantz wants to replace the National Anthem with a song of his choosing.

The Dems should not have agreed to this. Junior Dingbat Vance will lie like a rug and do it with conviction. All the boneheads watching will say the couch f—king hillbilly won giving the failing Chump campaign a boost.

😡

[socialjusticeinamerica]

You can't make this up!

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

[republicansaretheproblem]