Do you support Rabid Cupcakes?

So, I have these stickers I received as a test to see how they would come out:

Support

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd now. I have 40 of them. Hahhaha. So. I have decided that I want to see them all over! I gave some to my son (Stars knows where he will stick them….) So here is the deal: The first 40 people to send me a mailing address will get a Sticker! BUT the catch is you have to send me a photo of where you stuck it. Doesn’t matter if it’s under a bridge where no one sees it, you still have to send a photo! (Sigh, keep it semi clean). 

So, send your *mailing info to Catrionaiscrazy@gmail.com & if you are lucky, you might get a sticker.

Support 2

Then, send a photo of the sticker and the location, to the same address. If you don’t want to include a location that is fine.

Rude photos will be laughed at, and then deleted.

I wanna see how far I can get the stickers to travel, STD style! who’s interested?

XOXOXOXO

Catriona

*Any mailing info collected will not be shared, and only used for this purpose.

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No one’s got time for that, Batman.

My kid, I tell ya.

So today I was sitting on the couch messing with my phone as my son played Mincraft.

annnnnd then Pandora does what it loves to do: scare the crap outa me by starting up by itself.

annnnd the song was GREAT. And by GREAT I mean it was horrid, but my son’s reaction was fantastic.

*spins around to glare in my direction* “What the?! Is that Batman? WHAT is that? That’s terrible. No one’s got time for that, Batman.” – Son

So naturally, I downloaded it, and set it as my texting ring tone. And since I have been talking to my brother all day, every day (a boring story), it didn’t take long for it to play.

“WHAT. WHY?” -Kid

*laughing so hard I fall over on the couch* “What?” – Me

“WHY BATMAN? WHY?” – Kid

“What, you don’t like that song?” -Me

“No, I certainly do not.” – Kid

“But you like Batman.” – Me

“BUT WHY IS HE TALKING LIKE THAT?” – Kid

I giggle, and he goes back to playing. I mute the sound so he doesn’t hear it go off.

About 30 mins later, I turn the sound back on:

“Seriously? you chose THAT as your ring tone? Dirty Batman.” – Kid

“OK, time to go shopping.” – Me

So, we get into the grocery store and it goes off:

“REALLY? You are ok with people hearing that???” – Kid

“Sure, why not?” – Me

*Whips out his phone* “I am going to spam you so everyone can hear it” *evil grin* – Kid

*Pulls phone out of pocket and holds it up so everyone can hear* “OK” – Me

“Oh my God, you don’t care.” -Kid

“Nope” – Me

“Why don’t you care? It’s HORRIBLE. And it’s Batman.” – Kid

“It’s not Batman, it’s Manson.” -Me

“It’s Crazy. And it’s Batman.” – Kid

“It’s Manson.” – Me

“Why’s he calling himself ‘Daddy’? – Kid

“Does Batman Call himself Daddy?” – Me

“No.” -Kid

“Because it’s Marilyn Manson.” – Me

“No.” – Kid

I laugh harder than one should in an store, and shut it off. The subject then went to what kind of tomatoes were are going to get.

When we get home I put everything away, and turn the the notifications on my phone back on. I walk up the stairs and am just about in my room when it goes off. This is what I hear from down stairs:

“NOOOOOOooooo Marilyn Batman!”

BAHAHAHHAHAHAH!

It really is a horrid song. It’s Marilyn Manson and …..Wait for it…..Avril Lavigne. Yeah. What? 

The beginning is Manson’s growly voice saying “Lay your head in daddy’s lap, you’re a bad girl.”

If you want to hear a horrid song click HERE.

And for those who are going to listen and then scream that I let my son listen to THAT. He’s only heard the beginning. Also, he plays XBOX. He’s already heard everything under the Sun. 

XOXOXOXOX

Catriona

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Heartburn & Sherlock

Spent the day cleaning, catching up on E-mails, and cleaning out half of my son’s closet to make a “Club House” so he’d stop searching about all the closets in the house with a pillow and flashlight. Lol.

Now the kid and I are now watching Sherlock.  Lol.

I have the worst heartburn, ever. EVER. I may name it. Like, Bethany, or Beatrice.  Nothing seems to help it. I think she’s her to stay with me and Pansy.

I have a lot on my mind. Pansy and I have been going at it again. Our fights are worse than ever. It’s worse when someone provokes Pansy, knowingly. Friggen awful that Pansy can be used against me. Oh well, everyone has a weakness, mine is just out there like a huge red lighted button for anyone to slam, causing me horrid pain.

Lots, and lots on my mind.

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I think that’s enough for now.
OXOXOX
Catriona

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Origami to the face

This new medication has been knocking me on my ass. Not only is it causing a ruckus in my stomach (which is flippin unheard of as I live on meds and coffee all day long, no problem), I have been experiencing sleeping issues due to the side effects. I guess the headaches aren’t helping either. Anyway. I woke up with a dog on my head, and my kid forcing an Origami space ship in my face. hahah. I think there might have been a ladybug involved, too. Yeah, there was. At several different times there were several different Monsters in my facial region. hahah. I think he was checking for life. lol.

I am so proud of my kid. We took Medical Transport to our appointments annnnnd of course the first thing you see is a stretcher. “That brings back bad memories, but it’s ok.” He said, sitting there looking at it. And he really was. I thought for sure it was going to set the tone for an already stressful appointment. He took it well, noted that life is better without my Ex, but that he still has so much love, and still considers Ex his parent. “(Ex) is just sick. (Ex) may not get better, I know that. But that doesn’t change my feelings.”  I’m so sad for, and proud of him -being able to break it down like this, despite it all.

So I walked him into his appointment bracing myself; knowing I would be holding down/ carrying/ putting in a hold my child that is my EXACT weight, very soon. I was dreading this friggen appointment. We walked in and he was so enthralled by the architecture of the building that he forgot it was an eye appointment, Hahah. My kid doesn’t allow anyone to put anything near his eyes, except me, and even then I have to really work at it. I was floored that he allowed the tech to HOLD his eye lid open. He expressed EXTREME dislike, but allowed it. I was impressed. Then eye drop time came. This is the time I usually have to put him in a hold, ending in my having to carry him out of the building in a meltdown. Sooooo I stood up, smiled at him and said “Now you know what we are going to do now. Do you need me to put you in a hold now, or can we try it on your own first? (I always give him a choice, he knows himself, and I always want him to try/ have a choice). He simply said “I think I will try”“Good job bud.” I said as I mentally braced myself to intervene because I am the only one that can…..I reminded him that the Tech was a professional – does this everyday…. I stepped forward again still smiling, found all the strength I could feeling like I was about to wrestle a gator (because trust me, that’s what this is, my son does the Death Roll, I swear) and then, just like that, he allowed the guy to put drops in his eyes. WHAT!? HOLY CATS BATMAN. Not once but twice. WHAT?! Who’s kid is this?? Not mine! Mine would have been in a hold by now as I use both of our weights to keep him pinned in the chair, like our specialists taught me, to keep him from hurting himself, or someone else accidentally. Mine kid would be screaming and crying because his Sensory Processing Disorder had already taken over the situation. By this time I would have pulled him from the chair, carried him through the lobby, from the building, braced myself up against the outside of the building, while still holding on to him, all the while talking him down. Instead, I was staring at my kid holding a tissue to his eye telling me how much that “was not pleasant”, glaring at the Tech and simply sitting there. HE WAS JUST SITTING THERE! I could have fallen over. This appointment is the one I thank the Gods every year for only being once a year. This is the only time of year I KNOW I am going to be sore the day after. Autistic kids and Eye Exams just are not friends. Going room to room, machine to machine. Nope. But this year, we hit another Mile Stone. I’m over the moon. I can’t tell you what this means.

I was still in shock and SURE that I would be dealing with a meltdown later since it didn’t happen while in the chair, but I was wrong. The only thing I had to do was pin him up against the outside of the building, not in a hold, but because he said “My eyes are wonky, things are doing stuff”. He needed to feel secure. haha. He tripped twice over his own feet, and laughed that he thought someone must have drugged him.

My son picked out maroon glasses by the way. lol. He unfortunately has his momma’s eyes. He will now have to wear glasses constantly, not just for reading, just like me. The Doctor looked over at me and made a comment about how blind I was, and to watch for that with my son. “What the hell, these are the thin lenses!” I laughed. He smiled real big and told me could tell by how my lenses were refracting light. WELL I NEVER! I AM A LADY! DON’T BE LOOKIN’ AT HOW I’M REFRACTING! He laughed so hard I thought he was going to pop an eye ball.

My son later noted that the Eye Doctor’s mannerisms reminded him of Doctor Who. Just so you know. 

So there you go. Origami and Autism Mile Stones, and Doctor Who.

Also, did you know this month is Autism Awareness Month? Well you do now. lol 

https://www.autismspeaks.org/

OXOXOX

Catriona

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Accidental Social Experiment

I don’t believe in being wasteful.

So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that from time to time I use my son’s old, raggedy ass, kick you in the face Bright Orange school bag (if you knew me, you would know that Orange is not my color, annnnnd you would die laughing). I mostly use it because it has the BEST laptop pocket ever. Anyway. So, this morning I grabbed it, dumped the contents of my purse in, grabbed my laptop, and out the door I went with my son.

We hopped the bus, I dropped my son off at school and I hit the bakery. I was low on cash so I skipped coffee and got a doughnut (to lessen the Parkour going on in my stomach due to meds)……only to be surprised by free coffee – cream already in it and everything! YES! I could have kissed my coffee guy.

Annnnnnd then I left the bakery…. it didn’t take long for um, weird dudes thinking I was a High School girl to try to pick me up. I get that I am small framed, I was wearing glasses, and a backpack – OK. but I don’t REALLY look THAT young. But, lets get back to the several different OLD guys, in several different areas trying to pick me up, because I looked like a teenager?! One was in a company truck and NAMED the School he thought I went to. Even sighted that he spotted me across town (and was accurate). WHAT? Now, if I were a High School girl I am sure I would have been terrified. TERRIFIED. This dude spotted me across town – did he follow me, or did he just happen to be in the same two places I was in several hours?? Now, I am an adult, and I will hand ANYONE their ass if they come near me, BUT if I’m being treated this way – WHAT ABOUT REAL HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS?!

I ended the day disgusted with humanity. I’m lugging around my 8 year old, ten pound Dino of a laptop in my son’s beaten up backpack so I can attend a meeting I’d rather throw myself off a building than attend, and these sausages want to pick me up because I look like young meat? FUCK THAT, where’s Lorena Bobbitt when you need her?! I better not catch any dude even looking at young girls. WHERE THE HELL IS MY BAT? The world should breath a sigh of relief that I have a son, NOT a daughter.

Pervy, pervy World.

UGH. I need to go scrub with bleach.

XOXOXO

Catriona

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I name you Pansy.

To be told several weeks ago that I have “PTSD medically proven to be comparable to soldiers coming home from Afghanistan” is just flipping ridiculous to hear. I KNOW that PTSD doesn’t just happen to Vets, but it is just disturbing to hear. I didn’t fight a war!  The Nine Month PTSD Treatment Plan has been thrown out the window. I will continue treatment until my brain gets back to it’s regularly scheduled program. Who the hell knows when that will be.

And because life is already colored so perfect, I have Bursitis in my left arm from incorrect injection location, from all the rounds of meds a few months. It could take a year to heal.

Medical diagnosis: FUCKED.
LMAO

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I’ve named My PTSD Pansy. Why? Why the Hell not?

And, because I feel like a pansy being shacked up with Pansy. Oh and, it’s the English word for a type of flower, ultimately deriving from Old French pensee “thought”.

I feel like I’m flippin’ nuts all the time. Me and Pansy, we go at it several times a day, and not in a good way. 

Anything and everything, and NOTHING sets her off. Then there are three glorious types of Pansy Episodes:

Pansy Episode A – I lose compete audio of what is going on around me but keep my vision. The volume gets turn up to an unbearable level and instead of hearing what’s around me – I hear nothing but the memory of finding my Ex dead. The alarm going off. My saying ‘No way’ at what I walked into. The 911 call, the thud of a body hitting the floor as I pull my ex off the bed. The dispatcher telling me what to do, the fire department, my son terrified in the livingroom. The EMTS, all the questions, the Ambulance. The noises as they worked on my ex. Hearing my Ex code out, and the EMT’s scrambling in the back of the Ambulance. The wheels of the stretcher coming off the ambulance, then on the concrete, and then the hospital floor as we follow behind my Ex and the truck load of people working to stabilize. The Doctors and Nurses kicking us out of the OR as they tried to save a life. My Voice as I try to explain to my Ex’s parents what had happened. The Nurse who brought us to the Serenity room, the cracking in her voice. The loud silence of the fucking Serenity room. My voice as I lose it after over an hour of waiting in that FUCKING ROOM, and storm the nurses station to DEMAND someone tell me what was going on. Hearing the words that described the possible death and brain damage, the lack of oxygen, coma. The thought ‘Oh my god I didn’t get there in time‘ screaming across my brain. The noises of seizures when they finally let us in the trauma room. The nurses shoes rushing across the floor. Their worried voices as they work to get and keep my ex stable. More questions. The days and nights that followed in the ICU. The noises of life support. More questions. The noise as they pulled the respirator from my Ex’s throat. Ex’s first words so broken up I wasn’t sure what was said. The days that followed. All playing in my head. Never stopping until it reaches the end.

Pansy Episode B – I keep audio. I can hear everything that is going on around me in real time, but the volume is cranked up so high it hurts my ears, and I lose visual. While I can hear what is going on around me I cannot see anything but the memory as described above. My bedroom. Pulling the blankets off my Ex. My son in the door way. My phone as I call 911. My hands and feet as I brace myself against the bed to pull Ex to the floor for resuscitation. The look on Ex’s face, I will never for get it. Clearing air way. Listening for breath. Following the dispatchers instructions. The EMT’s. The Fire department. The scene as they work from the floor. Me grabbing the nearest EMT to explain my son’s Autism. The EMT who  took him outside. The EMT that pulled me from the room to pummel me with questions. The three men that carried Ex in a white sheet, like a corpse,  from the bedroom to the front door because the stretcher wouldn’t fit. Grabbing my son’s hand and directing him to the Ambulance. The sight that could be seen as they worked on my Ex in the back of the Ambulance. The procession of EMT’s, Doctors and Nurses that met us at the hospital working as they wheeled the stretcher into the OR. The looks on the faces as I was told I would have to wait in the waiting room so they could work. Pushing open the door of the waiting room to find my Ex’s Parents. The look on their faces. The Nurses eyes as she had us follow her to a Tiny room filled with tissues and bibles. Me stumbling as I saw where we brought. The sign that said “Serenity Room.” Staring at my Mother and Father in Law as we waited. The hallways as I stormed down them to find the Trauma center and someone to tell us what the hell was happening. The look on the faces of all of them behind the counter before I even opened my mouth. The 30 seconds in which everyone looked to the person next to them not sure what to say to me. The Nurse who had locked eyes with me as I rounded the corner and never took them off me, even as she rounded the counter to whisper to the Doctor. The halls again as I following that same nurse back to THAT FUCKING ROOM. The look of horror on her face as she explained the situation. The Trauma room nurses rushing around the room. The days I stood in the ICU with my Ex hooked up to every machine known to man. The nights in the waiting room because they wouldn’t let me stay. The pure sadness on everyone’s face, including the nurses,  until the day Ex woke up almost a week later. The condition and lack of motor skills when Ex woke up. The days that followed.  All spinning around me as reality buzzes in my ears.

Pansy Episode C A combo of both A & B. No joke. It’s like I’m swept away and slammed right into the memory as if it were real time. Only I’m aware that it’s not what is actually happening at the moment, but I am trapped until the memory plays itself out. I have to wait until Pansy releases me from this other dimension and then pretend like I am totally fucking normal, and carry on with whatever I was doing prior; Laundry, work, riding the bus with my son, ordering coffee at the bakery, the grocery store, the Mall, the fucking Pharmacy. You name it. Pansy doesn’t care that I might be walking my son to school, or crossing an intersection.

It’s like having an abusive Spouse that follows you everywhere.

 

 

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This is how I know Pansy is Female. LMAO

My doctor says that I will most likely be dealing with these issues, to some degree for the rest of my life. Oh. Fucking. Goody.

I say OFF WITH HER HEAD. Who wants to help me with a brain transplant? Anyone? LOL

 

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All in all, I say being in a relationship with Pansy is great. Everyone should try it (Help she beats me), and this:

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(Hey, why is the person in this photo wearing Rape gloves?)

Hope you are all well and didn’t actually read this. LMAO.

Pansy says hello (not really, what she actually said was obscene. She’s a Bitch.)

Love you guys,

Catriona

OXOXOX

 

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Today is the Day Of Monsters

Today marks the one year anniversary of me and PTSD. We have been together for a full year now. I’d love to break up but, it just doesn’t seem possible.

Today, a year 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.

Apparently, I am still screwed up in the head. I thought I was getting better. Nope. On Friday I went to the Hospital to pick up my medical records. I was fine. Walked thru the front door, navigated my way through the labyrinth they call the Hospital, found the Records department, spoke to the woman, laughed at her jokes, and was fine. I got my records, checked the time and realized I had 45 mins till the next lift. Being the caffeine addict that I am; I thought “Maybe I will go get some coffee.” I made my way back through all the damn halls, found the café, zeroed in on the coffee bar, and was fine. I made my coffee, laughed with the coffee attendant, and was fine.  But, when I turned around the find the register the food bar and I locked eyes. I remembered myself there the last time, and before I knew it everything went to hell.

The whole thing played again in my head. Saying “No way” out loud. 911. Resuscitation. Fire Department. EMTs. Watching 3 men carry my Ex out of  the bedroom in a white sheet because the stretcher wouldn’t fit. Sitting in the ambulance. Hearing the code in the back as EMTs worked. More Resuscitation. Following the entourage of professionals into the hospital to be told I couldn’t stay as they worked to save a life. The waiting room. The nurse who said we needed to come with her so the Doctor could talk to us as she led us to a small room filled with Bibles, pamphlets, and tissues. The shock of where she had led us. Waiting in the “Serenity Room” for over an hour before I lost it and DEMANDED someone tell us what was going on. Being told about the coma. The lack of oxygen to the brain. The uncertainty of survival. The good possibility of brain damage. Being in the ICU for days; the noises of life support filling my ears. Sleeping in the waiting room every night. Starring at the body in the bed covered in tubes and machines every day as I answered background questions. The day the coma left us. The person that survived. The realization that I brought someone else back, not my Ex. The days and weeks after. The Torment. The realization that this was a self inflicted situation created by my Ex, to cripple me.

It all hit me while I was standing in line to pay for my coffee.

Later while walking it off I realized the date. I also realized that although this happens to me on the daily basis, THIS was by far the worst episode I have ever had. WTF. It’s been a Friggen YEAR.

 

Sigh.

(Interesting Side Note: that day ended with me bumping into my Ex at a restaurant. Thank you, Universe.)

 

So today, is just like every other day.

Except, I know a year ago I resuscitated one person but got another.

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I think a Tranquilizer is in order

(“I think a Tranquilizer is in order.” – Grams, about an hour ago.)

Helllllloooooo People!

I am not dead! Here I am! ( I think?)

Thank you to those who have checked up on me! I am alright. There’s been a whole  hell of a lot going on….

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Quick recap, shall we?

  • I’ve moved out, and am all moved into the town house.
  • Ex was partying, frequenting online dating sites, and ignoring my son..but trying to “Date me”.

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  • I squashed that, and put my foot down about my son. Ex was told there would be no coming and going. My son is not something that can be picked up, and put down whenever convenient. Ex then declared more effort would be made (that was in November). Ex and I made a plan on visitation and how to best support my son through all of this.
  • Ex has disregarded the plan and has ACTUALLY said the words “I am choosing me, I am choosing to be selfish.”
  • On more than one occasion the Ex has chosen to drink over spending PLANNED time with my son.

OFF

  • I Officially filed for Divorce, I will be done with that in a few months.
  • Ex is still partying, and has time for friends but not my son, and has not initiated contact in over a month, and prior to that it was only made if I initiated it.
  • My son has been good in school EVERY DAY for 3 weeks IN A ROW. IN.A.ROW. That is unheard of. So proud of that kid. He’s come so far, and is trying so hard <3

Ballons

  • My beloved laptop died. I just got him back. Yes, HIM. STFU, don’t judge.
  • I got the MOST FANTASTIC E-CARD from one of my followers, Like WHOA. BAHAHAHA
  • Some days, I just feel like this:

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  • But, otherwise I’m doing WAYYYYYYY better than I was. :)
  • there are no more of THESE days:

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  • I may actually be a rabid cup cake.
  • I have had to use the sentences “Contrary to what it looks like, those marks are not from suction, but from friction. Sorta like an Indian burn. I very sexy Indian burn.” at least once in the last month.
  • I’ve named my Job “Chad”.
  • I’ve seen wayyyyyyy too many “Ankle Pant” action.
  • I have learned that flannel thongs paired with shear pantyhose is a suitable pant substitute. (Have you seen my twitter, you would know this.)

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Have I already used this photo? Yeah, I’ve already used it. But, I feel like it’s relevant.

  • My son IS Batman.
  • My best friend has moved in with me to save me from myself, and eat all of my ice cream. (He’s actually ranting about chocolate at the moment. Hysterical.)
  • My Gram has actually been heard saying “No, you have to compare the crotches.” and “We are headed for your pants!” I now have proof she is to blame for my behavior, and sentence choices.
  • I have 2 STD’s and a Bookworm in my house at the moment . MUAHAHAHAHHA
  • Also, while going through my Gram’s computer, I found this:

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  • I have not joined any cults.

I think that’s about it. I’m sure I have missed something. Lol. But, now that we all up to speed, HOW ARE ALL OF YOU!!???

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Accidental Art installation By Gram

Today Sucked.

However when I came home from picking up my child I opened the door to the smell of burning plastic.

Which, really, can only mean two things: 1. Grams gotten into the Crack again, or 2. Gram forgot about the bread in the oven and turned it on, again.

 

To my surprise is wasn’t Crack (OK, kidding. My Gram wouldn’t even know what that was).

Fresh Baked Bread, anyone?

LMAO

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Goodnight friends

OXOXO

Catriona

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Ripples.

Took my son to the Zoo for Trick or Treating yesterday. He loved it.

He went as Captain America.

I went as the Wicked Bitch that I am. Ha.

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Today we went to one of the Bays. We brought lunch and played by the water.

 

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Tomorrow I hope to get to go to some thrift stores. I need everything you can imagine for my new house, and I’m sorry but Walmart doesn’t carry my vintage cookware and Tupperware.

My gram keeps insisting I make a public wishlist for Walmart. I think everyone should just send me their old outdated housewares, instead. But, then again what do I know? LMAO.

XOXOXO

Catriona

 

 

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