Isn’t he beautiful? Don Quixote. Hand carved, even his crotch.
That’s all I got, hand carved crotch.
I want to personally thank each and every one of you that has reached out to me these last weeks. Even you creepers. Thank you. It means more than you know. I will answer each of your messages and comments. I will, when I can.
And to show my love right back, I have something for you.
Name That Crotch!
Usually when I fall on my face, I’m back on my feet just as fast. No beats skipped. Usually, I brush myself off, shake out my hair (Yes, I whip my hair back and forth), scoop up my kid and keep going. I back down to no one, nothing. Nothing.
However, that doesn’t seem to be the case this time. I remember the exact moment I felt my brain unravel. It was like the moment of impact in a fatal car accident. But I wasn’t in a car, I was in my bedroom. From the moment I heard myself say “No way” on Feb 8th, I’ve felt as though I have completely lost my mind.
I keep being told that time will fix it - “You just need time to get back on your feet.” Bitch, I don’t even know where my feet are. Do I even have feet? Can YOU even see my feet at this point? Have they been stolen? They’ve been fucking stolen! Feet, ha. I’ve been down on my face for weeks. Every time I even lift my head, the Universe delivers yet another kick to the gut.
I feel everything and nothing, all at the same time. I’m on auto pilot. What’s worse is I’m pretty sure this auto pilot program was written by a drunken crackhead. I want nothing to do with anyone. Not even people I love. My son being the only exception. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want anything to do with any type of social connections. I’m not capable of handling other people’s emotions, at all. The people I usually run to, I’m hiding from. I just want them all to stay over there. Over there, where I can keep an eye on you, but you can’t get to me. I feel nothing for them. Nothing. I know I love them. I know I do. I just can’t feel it. At all. Seems to be the more I care the thicker the brick wall I’m constructing. I know it’s unfair, I know it’s hurtful, I know it makes no sense to most. But, at the moment it seems to be what I need.. Lest I open my mouth and burn bridges I constructed in love. I feel poisonous. You should hear all the hurtful things I don’t say. I know why my brain is constructing such hurtful sentences. It would only take one or two to get you all to permanently leave me alone. My brain wants you all to go away and never look back. But logic (is it logic? Maybe it’s the fragments of my heart) is what keeps my mouth clamped shut. If I just keep you all over there, I won’t set you all on fire, my brain can’t get to you, and I won’t cause permanent damage to the things I love.
I’ve got two funerals to attend in the next two weeks, and next Tuesday is my first day back to work since the 8th. I can’t even function, but I’ve somehow got to pretend to be normal and not the complete lunatic I now am. Catriona was crazy, and I owned it. I loved it. But I don’t know what this is, I don’t know what I am any more.
You’ve broken my heart, and my head. Smashed them.
I feel like you’re punishing me for something. You are, aren’t you? I’m not sure what I’ve done, or how to repent, but you’re killing me. I feel like you don’t even notice. Do you even care?
You keep dropping me to my face, and gleefully kicking me while I’m down.
Two weeks ago I found myself clutching the phone with my head and shoulder while pulling the lifeless body of the person my son considers to be his other parent from the bed to the floor, for resuscitation. I found myself in the ICU for days; the noises of life support filling my ears.
This week I found myself in a different hospital looking down at one of my closest friends as he showed me how the surgery went. They took his leg to save his life. He’s not a candidate for prosthesis, he’s wheelchair bound, and elderly. And I’m so helpless it’s killing me.
Also this week -I found myself in a room hearing things like “PTSD”, “Time”, “Brave”, and “you should really resume writing”. Resume writing? I don’t know how to resume anything, let alone writing.
That’s just this month. I’m so broken Universe, can you see this? I’m destroyed in places I didn’t even know existed. I don’t even feel human anymore. I feel poisonous.
What have I done to you? How do I fix it?
omg, OMG, O.M.G You will never guess what I stumbled upon, OMG!!!!!!
I was looking for a Pick Punch, and do you know what I found? DO YOU?! I.JUST.CANNOT.EXPLAIN.HOW.EXCITED.I.AM.
and a testicle, and an ovary, and a Mammary gland! I NEED TO HAVE THEM ALL!
I’m almost, almost as excited as when I discovered STDs! ALMOST.
HOW DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT THESES! WHAT THE HELL!? I NEED A TESTICLE! I need a testicle to go with alllll the STDs I will one day have!
GIVE ME A PROSTATE!
I’m off to buy a prostate.
*Edit – And the award for best sentence spoken this month goes to my best friend, who after reading this post said:
“That reminds me i have dropped the ball on giving you an std.”
I’ve been watching Doctor Who for hours. Superbowl, bla!
I’ve avoided FB and Twitter all night - for fear of being Super Balled. Doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it?
While avoiding taking a Ball to the eye, I’ve been tooling around on WordPress. You know what I’ve found? THIS:
Those are the search engine terms from the last few days, for my blog. Bahahahah!
“Are Craiglist Whores Crazy?” hahahah! People actually search for that? REALLY? Gosh, I love people. So, amusing.
“Penis Spam Eat” – Wait, what?!
Man, I need to start blogging about puppies, and cotton candy, or something. LMAO Yeahhhhhhh, we know that’s not going to happen.
Gosh, I’m tired. Ugh.
Good Night my friends, I hope you haven’t gotten Super Balled, too hard.
Can you say the word “Coulrophobia”?
Cuzz I can’t. Nope.
I can read it, I can spell it, I even know what it means! Buttttt I cannot verbalize it with out sounding like I just woke up, still drunk from a hot-mess-of-a-week-long-binge.
If you are unfamiliar with the the word; it’s an extreme fear of Clowns. I can’t tell you the statistics on Coulrophobia (I can tell you that Auto correct doesn’t like the word at all. Maybe it suffers from Coulrophobia?… ), but I can tell you more often than not – people react negativity when faced with even the image of a clown. I should know, my childhood bedroom was completely covered, right down to the bedspread, in clowns. (That bedspread had ruffles, like, A LOT of ruffles, btw. I friggen hated ruffles, but somehow is was totally ok because it was clown themed.) Reactions are fascinating, especially to clowns. More people went running in terror from my childhood bedroom then they do now. hahaha. . and that’s saying something.. Bahahahahah…
Is it just me, or are more people getting rid of more clown stuff, at a faster rate, than they ever used to? I looooove thrift shops, and I have to say I have seen more second hand clown items pop up in shops within the last year, then EVER before. I look for clown stuff…so, yeah, I’d know. Hhahahaha It’s too bad I don’t decorate with clown items as much as I used to. haha.
Side note* - have you ever been writing at your desk, just mindlessly jamming out to a random song, when alllllll of a sudden you realize the lyrics of said song are a grown man purring about “licking a loli pop” annnnnnnnd you come to a FULL stop? No? Well, that just happen to me. haa. I hate when lyrics kill a perfectly good beat.
Clowns are all over these days. The Northampton Clown has a book out (wow), and there’s some gun wielding clown now (I’m not surprised, are you?), and that’s not even the half of it. I confess.. I just can’t get enough. I recently stumbled upon darkclowns.blogspot.com, crazy interesting. All sorts of tid bits that will make you wanna pee your pants (if you suffer from Coulrophobia that is). Ha…..
Oh my stars! I have to interrupt this crazy Clown rambling to tell you that I have been on the phone with my boss for almost 20 mins, and within those 20 mins she has used the phrase “Honey Hole” AT LEASE 7 times, YES I was counting, and OH MY STARS IT HAS TAKEN ALL I HAVE NOT TO BURST INTO LAUGHTER. BAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH! She just said it again! BAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH! Does she not hear herself?! OMG someone please, PLEASE send this woman a link to Urban Dictionary, STAT! I am trying so, SO hard to keep a straight face and serious tone. BAHAHAHAHAHAH! She Just said it again. IS SHE MESSING WITH ME?! She has got to be messing with me. AHAHAHAHAHA! Holy CRAP BATMAN! She actually just uttered the sentence: “Well, we are all after the Honey Hole” OMG SERIOUSLY?! Is she drunk? She’s got to be drunk! FUCK, AM I DRUNK?! I cannot take it. She is as serious as she could be, just working that into the convo. I have a whole new respect for this chick. “It’s my job to help you find your Honey Hole.” OH, OH wow. No joke, that was just said to me. I have spent this whole convo with my hand clamped firmly over my mouth trying, desperately, not to laugh in her eye. Oh man, I’m so glad that’s over. ahaha wow. Just, wow.
I want to take this time to thank my bladder. Thank you bladder, for being stronger than I give you credit for. I surely would have peed myself, had you been as weak as I tell people you are. For realz. Peed. Myself. In. Laughter. So, thank you blatter for being there for me. I’ll try to treat you better going forward.
I am completely in awe of that convo, and am unable to continue to ramble about Clowns. HAHHA. I cannot even go back and proof read. You will have to just. Deal.
Well hello, peoples! How are you? How have you been? Good? Bad? Join any cults while I was gone? (No, I’m not down to join. Just, No.) Anything exciting happen while I’ve been away?! Do tell!
What have I been doing, you ask? Nothing really. Just painting my nails. What? I could be a compulsive nail painter, you don’t know. Or, I could be that chick who drinks nail polish (seriously, have you seen that? WHOA). Hahha! Maybe that’s how I’ll call out of work tomorrow; “Sorry, I drank a bad bottle of nail polish, I’m not feeling very well….” I mean, I do call out “Dead” sometimes, soooo….Hmmm.
Have you ever actually read the names of your favorite nail polishes? Seriously, you should. Go do it right now. I just went and found mine a second ago as I was giving you all a hard time about judging me for being a compulsive nail painter, annnnnnnnd it’s hilarious. Wait till you see the names and colors:
This is “Kiss me here”…
Now, wait a min, kiss me WHERE? WHAT!? That there is GREY. Where, WHERE are you going to kiss me that is gonna be GREY?! WTF? Hahahahaha! Unless, of course I’m deceased, or diseased. In that case YOU have some serious flippin’ issues for wanting to kiss me ANYWHERE. SICKO! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!? UGH. Some people.
This is “Spit Fire”.
Makes much more sense than that first one. I have nothing witty to say. Sorry.
That’s what my nail polish says about me: Kiss me here, Spit Fire.
What’s yours say? Hahhaahah Seriously, I wanna know.
* I would like you all to know that when I typed in “Grey” into the Tags box, “Teal and grey Molesters” populated automatically…um…hmmm… While I am sure this means something to someone…..It’s still a very creepy mental image to have without warning. .
I came across something on the internet recently that was enraging.
Hold on to your underpants guys, this is going to be a long one, but it’s important.
A woman went missing in Western Massachusetts last week, she was later found dead. The DA has released a statement that her death was determined “Not suspicious”. No details have been released surrounding her death. And yet, a contributor for Allvoices, Chelsea Hoffman, felt the need to quickly slam up an article entitled – T. B. death: Suicide or drug overdose? ….I was floored.
Now, I am sure I don’t need to spell out what “Not suspicious” means, but I will anyway for the sake of argument- It means that whatever the circumstances, there was no foul play. Meaning – whatever happened to this woman is no one’s business, unless the family wishes to share. I couldn’t believe that this Chelsea person, who frequently writes for Allvoices, felt the need to make this speculation, publicly, where anyone who googles information about the funeral will find it.
Annnd then I read the comment section of the site. The title of the article alone is heartbreaking, and the contents of the post are hurtful and poorly written, but it’s the comments Chelsea writes in response to reader’s pleas to remove the post that really highlight this “journalist’s” agenda (among other things). Chelsea never once responded to her readers, either on allVoices or on her FB page, in any way which could indicate she actually IS in possession of a human heart. Her lack of compassion, let alone professionalism is deplorable. I had to reread Chelsea’s replies twice because I just couldn’t wrap my head around how awful this woman was. (After visiting the site again I can see that Chelsea has had at least 15 comments removed from the thread. I’ve seen most of these comments – a lot of them contained the Allvoices contact info (hmmmmm) and the others were just well-worded comments and pleas to remove the post.)
(Original article and replies she hasn’t had deleted yet can be found here: CLICK HERE. It will take you to the post on Allvoices.com)
Not only is the post still up – she’s posted two follow ups. One states she stands by her speculation and in the second Chelsea Hoffman states the following:
“She hadn’t been missing for long, but there are no published details about what led to discovering her body and there are no reports indicating why or how she vanished in the first place. What is certain is that a select handful of people — including so called reporter Joe Durwin — have bombarded me with hate-messages demanding that I remove any speculation about drug overdose or suicide. Of course, none of these people will even begin to tell how she died, as if it’s some kind of embarrassing secret. Are they ashamed of how Theresa died, or is there something else going on?”
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? SERIOUSLY? DO YOU EVEN READ WHAT YOU WRITE?
Let’s recap shall we?
1) First, she wildly speculated on a news report the death of young girl whose body had been found thousands of miles away, whose cause of death is not known but was deemed unsuspicious- with a glaring headline and hack job blog that it must be drugs or suicide.
2) Second, she HECKLED a series of reasonable, well-worded comments from actual friends of the girl who said things like “no, you’ve got it all wrong, and please, please take this down, this is very upsetting to come across for family and friends”. She made fun of them, insulted, them, “LOL’d” them while hiding behind cheesy freedom of speech arguments in defense of why she just HAD to post a lot of sensationalist speculation about a girl she’d never met on a very visible public site before the poor girl’s family has even buried her, purely for the hits it would garner her crappy low rent True Crime blog “career”.
3) Third, she seems to actually get off on being a horrible, mean-spirited person.
WHO DOES THIS?
Well, after a little research – It seems Chelsea Hoffman does this.
She likes hurting people.
Sampling of past infractions:
Chelsea Hoffman called another grieving family who complained about her news “coverage” “trailer park meth addicts” and said of their murdered teenage daughter:
Elsewhere in her intrepid, free-speech-loving “reporting” Chelsea Hoffman called an accident victim “an idiot” a “Dumbass” and half a dozen other names, concluding:
“Again, I totally sympathize with his family and his kids and glad this guy is recovering, but wow, what a fucktard.”
Chelsea Hoffman has also been suspended from Gather for repeatedly, endlessly failing to ever use the word “alleged” and “accused” in her horrible, pure conjecture, barely coherent, unnecessarily mean-spirited and hateful rants masquerading as “news” items.
It’s bad enough all the trolls out there hiding in the cracks. But when someone masquerading as a journalist, who actually sometimes gets paid a few dollars, and has even been in HuffPost, is worse not only than the worst journalist but in the same league with the nastiest anonymous Trolls the web has to offer… that cries out for punishment.
Read the articles. READ THE COMMENTS SHE POSTS. If you are as offended as I was – DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
First post – CLICK HERE
Second post – CLICK HERE
First post – CLICK HERE
<Click on the Flag button at the bottom of the piece, and in the menu of reasons, click “False information.” (There is no information, just rumor-mongering conjecture out of nowhere. < Feel free to use this as a reason in the optional explanation box, or write your own. Then click on the Report Abuse button to submit it.)
Also, feel free to repost, re-blog, re-investigate, and share, share this info like an STD.
Her Facebook page (show some love!)
her main site:
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