Clutter bad, fire awesome

Set it all on fire and begin again. My personal views and methods on how to life a carefree happy life. It should be noted that by “methods” I mean “shit I've done with relative success,” and by “success” I mean “without loss of life.” Mine or anyone elses. For those of you clinging to the notion, that none of this is particularly fascinating or even remotely noteworthy. A: You're still reading! B: I also run with scissors so anything can happen. And C: Since when is not dying even one time in my entire life not a big deal?

Every year, on my birthday I reevaluate my life's path. I look at all that I've done, all that I've seen, and all that I've yet to do. I remind myself that being nicer to others is a good start, thus I vow not to punch the stupid people. I'm proud of myself for something like a week, and every year, without fail, I regret ever having thought it. It’s a stretch goal, but I aim for difficult targets because I’m brave. I also enjoy a challange.

Growing up without stability in my childhood home, possibly has something to do with my dislike of bullshit. Stability in many forms has always eluded me. It eluded me still after becoming a mother, but in this life I now share with my daughter and my pack, the organized chaos has become a familiar and welcome presence. When I was far younger stability was only seen as being financially set with a husband who'd adore me. It was a concept my mother had deemed most important to ones social status.

And as mother has always taught us, social status was key. After that it was being thin, beautiful, well dressed, and with money in the bank. Affluent would be a status she'd be proud of.  Well that and being thin. She hated my being fat. It absolutely appalled her when I gained weight. Thus we went on our first diet together when I was 7. 800 calories a day and not a calorie more! As you can imagine before I truly hit puberty my metabolism was fucked. I've reread all my old journals from back then shaking my head and laughing equally at my 7 year old selfs ability to write out my caloric intake and drawing pictures of the foods I could eat.

Being firmly rooted both physically and mentally was also something we were taught. It was never something I wanted though. Not like so many others did. I’ve always believed that home is where your heart is. And that stability isn’t about remaining unchanged. It’s more about not allowing temporary but intense emotions and thoughts to dictate your actions or  views. It is also about staying true to yourself and not falling prey to self destructive behaviours. Learning to carry the often overwhelming burden of grief, sadness, and disappointment without letting it define you came as second nature.

Its a trait that has served me well. So thanks crazy childhood for that little gem.  Mental stability is all about not losing your motherfucking shit when life throws you a curve ball. It's an important trait to have when dealing with the public at large or an asshole DM who thinks she's a god. Since running away at an early age and being my own parent, I’ve had kids, moved to a new country, buried all my grandparent's, gotten married,  buried a mother in law, travelled all over the globe, moved more times than not, and left it all  behind without ever looking back.

Not a fucking regret to be had.

Although I have not been rooted in one place physically, I am always at home because of Esme, GQ, and my pack. I am with my chosen family. My belief then and now when it all becomes too overwhelming remains: Tree bad, fire pretty! In other words, "If you’re lost in the woods, burn it all down." It might not be easy,  but it is damn effective. Well thathat and laugh at everything; including yourself! Laugh at the good times, the bad times, the fun times, the hard times, the glad times and the sad times alike. That's right, yes there are times to be serious but not all the fucking time.

Landing on my feet is one of my main skills. I know that even when landing knee deep in the muck and mire, I'm still standing. It's one of my about eight or nine major skills. Humility aside, eight and nine might be high numbers so, yes, I’m a person of many talents, but I still like to be low key about it. Humor is my candy of choice. Laughter and hugs cure more than penicillin or hospitals. Seeing the good in everything, even if not in everyone; is also pretty damn valuable.

Know or finding your passion, is a sheer thing of beauty. Be passionate about what you do. From great to small, add your own flare to it and embrace the little lessons that pop up along the way. Find and stay truly loyal to at least one friend who makes no qualms about cheering you on and just as importantly calls you out on your bullshit. That one friend who won't say, “Yes, yes, you’re right. Of course you should do it all.” But will instead, give you a lot of hard stares and say something about how on a previous ocassion or two you ended up on the floor praying to Oden to please take you to Valhalla because you're so fucking done with this fucking shit.

Don't bother gloating or assuring yourself that this time, things will be different, or that you've got it all figured out. That kind of pride will get in your way. Failures are just different ways to learn. Be it about a situation, a person, a method, or yourself. Taking those failures for granted are ever so foolish. In the midst of feeling strong, flexable, and agile I tripped going up the stairs. Thankfully the large glass of water I was holding came up at me with equal force as that of my fumbling forward and hit my face like a cold shower. The cold water splashing me made me feel rather awake and refreshed as I lay groaning on the landing.

Life is like that sometimes. You have to stop, gain your bearings and focus on sorting out your next steps with the newfound knowledge you've gained. Should you feel boxed in, lost in all of the mental baggage you've accumulated to fill the empty spaces of your mind, heart and soul. Stop, take a breath and go back to that one pure place in your heart where everything made sense. Should that still be too confusing remember; if you’re lost in the woods, burn it down. Instead of looking for ways to save everything, leave it all behind.

I've learned: Decluttering an entire life requires more than a handful of days. It isn't ever just a physical clearing. No matter how much you wanted it to be anything but, the process wI'll be a steel-edged emotional purge. Freedom and loss. The loss will bring saddness, discomfort, and yes heartache. Remembering not to stay mired in desire for what no longer remains in your life.

If your lost I  the woods and you cannot find your way; burn it all down.

Simple truths

It should be noted that anyone whom truly knows me, would advise you that when I become the solid voice of reason; shit has gone horribly irrevocably wrong. I maintain my aloofness, aLloyd while being a boisterous joker. It keeps the masses guessing. Many in fact believe I am never serious. Never settled. Never really knowing what's going on.

They would be very wrong.

I watch and listen to everything. Especially because no one believes I am. It makes for a very informative life. I typically say nothing, not of great importance in any case. I smile and joke and when it's time to; I walk away without an ounce of hesitation. I fear very little outside of letting my children or fur kids down. Nothing else truly matters. Not work, friends, family. My kids and my rescues are the only things that matter when the day is done.

Be yourself, everyone else is taken.

I was recently informed that boredom is my greatest enemy. Admittedly I'm not a fan of utter boredom  however I do not find it to be my greatest enemy either. I tend to find things to keep me entertained rather well. I would have to say that my boredom, is other people's greatest enemy. What I find entertaining or mildly amusing tends to not sit well with other more often than not.

Truth be told, I never understood most peoples  sheer boredom. There are a plethora of both useful and completely unuseful things to fill ones time with. I surmise that most or maybe many people's boredom is due to their inability to be happily alone. I've not a single issue with this. I rather enjoy my own company. At least I know I am in good company.

What is it about being alone that sets so many people on  edge? Yes like anyone else there are times when loneliness does enter into my life. I'd be a liar to say that it doesn't. Yet I found over the years that I can be surrounded by people a day still feel completely alone. It's all perspective. Small talk is okay, but I'd much prefer to get to know the real you.

Long heart to heart on a variety of topics is far more interesting to me than thever superfluous banter people seem to hold onto like a lifeline. Letting your guard down can be scary. No one likes rejection. At least I've never met anyone who's happy about being rejected. At the end of the day though, who would rather be with? The person who smiles and nods at everything going and pretends to like you? No thanks. I want a partner who can say, "well you clearly fucked that up. What are you going great to do about it?"

I typically want what I can't seem to have.

I’m going to be completely honest here, as the truth will surface eventually, or on the first date if you supply me with enough alcohol. Actually when I drink, I tend to be the exact as I am sober. I just tend to laugh more and filter even less. I tell stories that are hilarious to me, but may make others that don’t know me so well wonder if I'm nuts or just mean.

I’m 43 years old. I’m gainfully employed at a job that I can live with for now. It pays next to nothing for the work I do, and I believe management are morons, but I like my coworkers. I moved my daughter (she's an adult) and I into an apartment that works for us over a year ago, but its nothing to write home about. We make it work and thats enough for me. I'm not materialistic in the least, so having the best of everything isn't on my priority list.

Buying a house isn't even a glimmer on the horizon of my rent-paying life. I lived in far worse conditions like those years spent at home with my unstable ex, ill tempered mother, idiotic and often drunk off his ass step-father. I'm a silver linings kinda girl. My kids father and I are friends and I love that he has always been an amazing father to them. We just don't happen to work as a couple. Life happens, deal with it. School, well at this point i just cant see myself returning to it.

I cannot waste my time or energy on something I only have a vague interest in so that I can graduate in five years and start making decent money right off the bat. That isn't going to pay my bills in between, and I believe would cause my daughter a hardship I cannot accept. Working with anamals is a passion of mine. I've yet to figure out how to do so and make scads of money while still being ethical. So I roll with the punches.

I am not skinny. Given today’s standards, I am what you would call “full figured” though others say I'm average. I couldn't tell you, I care very little about that kind do of thing. Were I to grow another six inches, I would be what you would refer to as “built”, but as it stands now at 5’4… I have a big ass, hips, and thighs. I had a big ass when I was young, and I will have a big ass when I’m old. My teeth are not perfect. Far from it. I generally don’t smile with teeth, but I’m learning to accept this flaw for what it is since dentists don’t usually accept sexual favors for payment.

I used to drink quite a bit and had a decently high tolerance for alcohol but ever since I have moved with my pack, I don’t drink nearly as often and I’m afraid that when in the mood for drunken silliness, I become inebriated quickly. I prefer quality over quantity anyhow. I use big words sometimes, if you can’t understand what I’m saying, it’s probably best that you just nod and smile. Bae is not a word. My spell check and grasp of the English language tell me so. Sarcasm is second nature to me, maybe even first nature, I don’t really know since I’ve been using it for so long. I will make fun of you, to your face, and not feel the least bit guilty about it.

I will also laugh so hard I cry and most likely snort when and if you fall down or injure yourself in some other way. I’ll be okay with it if you laugh at me when I fall down… there is entirely too much gravity these days and accidents happen. At least with my drunken ninja skills as the case may be. My friends can be assholes. Most of my friends don’t even like each other and may not even like you. I’m a bit of a commodity where and when I actually make myself available. People also think that I’m probably a lesbian. I just smile and nod. I cuss like a sailor from time to time, but am perfectly capable of being politically correct.

If you do not understand sarcasm, if you have no wit or sense of humor, if I can’t con you into watching The Blacklist on TV and if you don’t like The Boondock Saints, please do not bother wasting my time. As it stands, I bring very little to the table at this point. I will not buy you nice things, I will go dutch but I expect you to pick up a bar/meal tab once or twice, you know… just to make this as much like prostitution as dating can be. I am more than likely not going to have sex with you anytime soon unless you really know what you’re doing and can get me past the point of “Whatever, I’m just going to lay here until it’s over”… Good luck with that. I am no beauty queen although if I make an effort, I can pull off cute, even pretty at times.

I am rockin’ the mom tummy. I've never given it much thought but it seems to be important to men. But if you’re interested in a witty, sarcastic, physically flawed, employed, yet has little time or money, a girl who lives simply with her pack of misfits, feel free to e-mail me with a picture and an honest description of yourself and what you’re into. I don't care what you drive, but if you play video games for more than 2 hours a day (every day) or are into RPGs, or if you're a racisit do not even bother. And please, do NOT send me a picture of your dick, or someone else’s dick that just happens to me more photogenic, or visible. That’s not the prettiest sight in the world, or Play Girl would have fared better.

Hypocrisy end

Way back in December of 1993, the 23rd I believe. I stood in my living room. It was a bright crisp day, the snow had fallen and piled up in all its fluffy glory. I tossed the mail onto my desk with a shrug, still running through the items I'd need to gather for the outdoor adventure I was planning on taking GQ on once he awoke from his nap.

One envelope, smaller than the others, stood out. It was addressed to me in strangely familiar block letters, the sender’s name, my biological father’s. It had been years since I last saw him. The crisp cream envelope now in my hand stood out like a sore thumb, I realized I'd only expected to hear from him on his deathbed (mainly via a news clipping in the local paper)—if ever. My biological father had never been cruel to me as a child, had barely raised his voice unless I was in danger, but was never a major figure in my life. “Absence” implies missing, and I never felt loss or abandonment.

He and my mother had always been there but were lack luster parents at best. They hated one another behind the closed doors of our home but put on a great show for the rest of the world. At best he'd been aloof through my early childhood, until my mother decided that I was much too great a hassle to deal with and forced him to drive me to every extra curricular activity she'd enrolled me in to keep me busy and under someone else's care. I was 4 or 5 before I actu ally lived full time with my parents. My sister had been born and my mother wanted to work from home after she'd had the first of a gaggle of kids she actually wanted. Thus I was moved out of my grandparents home and brought back into the fold of what was to be my childhood home.

I remember my paternal grandmother and i having a heart to heart when i was 14. I was once again living with her and taking care of her in her failing health. My father living there as well now since my mother had thrown him out. She kindly but firmly stated that it was in my best interest to emancipat asap. I had been raising myself and my siblings as long as she could remember and at this point no court would allow her to be my caregiver in her failing health. She handed me a wad of cash and a bag she'd packed for me opened the door and told me to run before he killed me.

His rage had always been there, but unlike my mother's he'd hidden it from his children. My grandmother whom I came to find had always been terrified of my father's temper. I had come to know it, but as rage and violence were pretty standard parenting techniques throughout my life it was the norm. To have my grandmother show me such fear, well it was quite the revelation at 14 to say the least. So I ran. I ran and hid with friends, stilling attending school with the aid of my principal and two teachers whom I trusted. I didn't think aboutique all the drama and weirdness I just went about my life.

My grandfather and grandmother died within a year of each other. I couldn’t articulate the emotions. I couldn't actually feel them either. It was just one more death. Funerals seemed to be 3 a year for me for as long as I could remember. This wasn't any different although I wasn't able to attend the funerals as I was still keeping clear of "the family". Still they’d watched me after school nearly every day, when I wasn't living with them that is. Imagining a world without them, well that was kinda sobering.

In the years after their deaths, I had children of my own. A life that moved along at a rapid pace. I saw my biological father a handful of times, from a distance in public. Never engaging or harbouring any desire to speak to him, there was no relationship at all. Dad was the man my bipolar mother married for stability and possibly to annoy her father. Her hatred truly began to errupt when I was in grade school, as did her openly mucking around with any man who showed her attention. Id never bonded with parent if I stand back and analyze it all with a critical eye.

So there I stood with this cream envelope in my hand and wondering if I should even open it. Why was he choosing to send my a Christmas card now? Was it because I had a child of my own? Was he feeling guilty that he'd missed out on the majority of my childhood, and was now going to miss out on his first born grandchildren life as well? Did he want to try and be a part of my child's life!

The last thought scared the shit out of me. There was no way I was ever going to allow a middle of the road racisit into my childschedule life, let alone a man whom I'd come to distrust with good reason. Blood has never meant family to me. Family was what I made of it and I was not allowing him into my family. I would never allow my children to feel the terror I felt. I would always protect them.

Yet the nagging voice remained. "Open the envelope." I did. A crisp 100 dollar bill lay inside the Victorian style Christmas card. Part of me was numb, the other part was a combination of confusion and annoyance. Did I send the card and money back? Did I just burn it? I wanted to send it back k, I didn't want to be a hypocrite. In the end I was. I pocketed the 100, and when GQ awoke we had our outdoor adventure.

Then I drove us into town and bought 100 dollars worth of baby supplies. Going against my beliefs for the benefit of my child's well being was a small price to pay. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant my kids would benefit. They're the only thing that matters.

It has been 25 years now since that day. 25 years of ensuring my children are happy, healthy, and know beyond any shadow of doubt that I love them beyond reason. That my world was made so much better because of them. I'll happily spend the rest of my days reminding them of that with every thought, word, and deed. 25 years and I don't miss him. Sometimes I feel bad that I feel nothing at all for either he or she, and then I smile and remind myself that that is a wasted emotion and carry on.



"Anyone can achieve their fullest potential, who we are might be predetermined, but the path we follow is always of our own choosing. We should never allow our fears or the expectations of others to set the frontiers of our destiny. Your destiny can't be changed but, it can be challenged. Every man is born as many men and dies as a single one."
                           - Martin Heidegger

I Don't Play Well With Others

I've managed to maintain a few good relationships over the years. I cannot say that I am the most attentive friend however. I adore my space and a great deal of it between myself and 99.9% of the population. I have a small fraction of those people that I allow in, whom I share a strong enough bond with that those whom need me, understand they can call upon me at any given moment and I will be there. Fewer still whom understand my locality to them is so strong that I will unleash hell upon earth should such things be required.  These are the people who understand me well enough to know that my privacy and actual personal time is so very precious that they forgive me a great deal.

I am in awe of those people. I could never begin to express my love and gratitude to them for accepting me as I am, no matter how difficult of a friend I am. My son and I are similar in a few of our mannerism and friendship maintenance; to a degree. He is better at staying in touch with some of his closers friends than I. Sometimes I do wonder if he ever gets pissed that I keep such poor contact with him. When we speak it's meaningful and the depth of our country versatile is something that reminds me of a touchstone. That undeniable place, feeling, and moment that reaffirms just who we are and why it is we are here on this earth.

Today I miss him more than I can express, and yet I am over the moon pleased to see the man he has become and continues to be. Here's to another year older, wiser, fuller, and filled with love baby boy. A better man I could not wish to know. Thank you for honouring me each and every day with who you are.

Happy birthday son.

Bring on Armageddon, I'm ready.

Who thought remakimg the classic Frogger game was a good idea? Just stop that shit now, mmkay? I am one of the lucky ones who as a kid had the tabletop game of frogger sold via the Sears catalogue. It took 4 D cell  batteries and made my life bliss. I also had the Pacman version too. Yeah I was a gaming nerd as a kid, who still played outside and climbed trees. When I wasn't locked away in a ballet studio for hours on end. How I loved to dance.

Dancing, gaming, and running wild and free outdoors was the most fun anyone in the history of the world could have ever. At least thats my take on it all. The point is I once had mad skills baby. And the other point is that my asson has always been phat and fantastic. So, anyway, I've been loafing between bouts of infuriating chaos. I'm still working full time, but my drive to be a super-d-dooper sales associate is pretty much nonexistent.

Management are morons, which is of little surprise. This is often the case of big xyz corporations who transition from caringredients to cash making. Thus I've been dreamily emailing out a few thousand resumes and generally dreaming of marrying rich, and being a spoiled trophy wife with lots of plastic surgery and porcelain veneers.  We all have our dreams. I don't actually want a boat load of plastic surgery but a tummy tuck and a boob lift might be nice. A personal trainer and someone who will wash my windows might be nice too.

So, when did summer coming to an end happen?! As soon as I get out of work, I just want to hike in the woods and enjoy what's left of this season. Dogs by my side soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells that the gods have graced us with. Now that you're all a swoon with imagry of sun and trees; and dogs ambling merrily along as furry woodland creatures scamper about preparing for winter; while you begin to think I've accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. While you heathens turn toward your devil-loving and false-prophet following leaders; shaking your heads at my glorious and shiny soul. Allow me to remind you just who will be the one laughing on that exciting day when the world ends.

I will be. But admittedly I am an odd duck, plus I'm a ginger thus all your bass souls belong to me.  Some guy nobody except some cult-followers cares about says the world is going to end. I didn't care to read further to find outhe when. I got bored and someone who possibly belongs to one of those cults sent me a picture of their foreskin so I just shut my eyes and wentertainment to my happy place for a bit. Still, I've prepared myself by regrowning a new hymen for my born again virgin status and making pamphlets on the importance of removing ones foreskin for those men who've yet to get with the program.

Then I wrote a list of things I might like come doomsday and started checking off the items. I read my survival guid to the apocalypse, shaved my head, painted my toenails and douched my vagina with mint water. Those of us who get taken to our heaven promise not to judge you while we're having an orgy with each other, and drinking all the wine. We would never do that. We're not perfect, we're just saved from boredom.

Of course by "we," we don't mean to include "you." In case you were wondering. However if you'd like to subscribe and follow me you too could be saved! Just drop me a message, and tell me what wine you prefer. We're completely civilized here on the road to salvation after all.

Bring on the Armageddon!

Rough Waters

They say tough times don't last but tough people do. I like to believe that to be the case, but I also realize that everyone has their breaking point too. I haven't come close to my breaki g point to yet, but damn could we just have a bit of a break? Just a little one? Esme and I have been fighting our way through another setback with Mako. She's been out of sorts for about two weeks now and with that come her regressive behaviour.

Between her moodswings, and our work schedule we've had our hands very full. We'd love to see her come round that corner and be happily wagging her tail. When will that day come? Or come on a consistent basis? She has moments of great peace and happiness,  we are so very grateful for those moments. We are amazed at how far she has come, and we will continue to work with her everyday to further reinforce the behaviours we want to see her display.

We had to sit down and take a hard look at her recent setback. It was quite sobering. We certainly aren't blind to any of her behaviors. We never have been nor will we be. Yet this latest setback was much more troubling than any of the others. I wish we could see into her brain and truly unique derstand what it is she is thinking when these things occur.  What an amazing gift that would be for any of our bad rap pups.

Randomly searching the void.

How are y'all? Whatcha been up to?

Busy as a bee on this end. The desire to loaf a little; watch sappy movies nonstop; while sipping piping hot homemade Chai tea with frothy milk and dark honey; while listening to Yani; is occupying my frontal lobes. I did save my foster pup from certain death. You know, the end of summer stuff. Turns out just when i think im in the clear, life rears its maw and lets out a big thunderous laugh.

I am thrilled beyond belief that pup is doing great. I'd have bawled my eyes out if the little nugget hadnot made a full recovery. Still I am now viewing the negative balance that was once my account and crying big fat salty hot tears on the inside. As such, I am also wondering why I never became a stripper or a whore. Men like a phat a$$ right? Oh I could have been a well paid puppy saving legend with full dental and health benefits. Oh the path not taken it such a disheartening thing.

I am now accepting bids on the following: Beyond Jennifer and Jason, a blessed find for those wishing to name their children something less fucking mundane, circa 1980; a video of drunk me doing something slightly risqué; a half-full (the power of positive thinking!) bottle of colloidal silver; and the body massager my best guy pal said looks like a cross between a massive vibrater and anal beads. Which I bought after my car accident to wish away the pain in my lower back. It has this cool infra-red heated end that totally works for cramps too. It's a little slice of cramp free heaven let me tell you!

Actually, scratch the last one. The thrill of being electrocuted by a giant vibrating infra-red dildo anal bead massager is too good to give up. I'm open to ideas, though, and I can always con my drunk as hell friends into humiliating situations and take possibly illegal photos of them with garden tools and stuffed toys of your choice. Message me with your flights of fancy. I'm sure we'll all enjoy the chuckle. Or at least I will.

I like kids

Now let's take a wide birth around how creepy that title reads and take it at face value. Thanks.

Kids are awesome. I love kids honesty, directness, creativity, and yes even their completely oddball yet wholly innocent humor. My kids unlike are others are of course comedic geniuses. I am their mother after all. With that in mind maybe their humor is just a tad more sarcastic than others. Just a tad.

Still, other people kids can be quite funny. My girlfriends youngest has the best imagination and humor of any kid I've ever met. He truly is a little kid do hearted genius. So I'm always a little extra disappointed when some strangers kid shows none of these signs. It's sad. Either they simply do not have that carefree whimsy, or their wretched parents have quashed it right out of their innocent little souls. How terribly sad indeed.

I met a child today whom only seemed to possess the ability to laugh at another's misfortune. She seemed to delight in teasing and taunting in a cruel manner. I watched for a moment as her mother stood back smiling as her prepubecent demon spawn behaved with all the compassion of a psychopath. Hown she could stand their smiling, laughing light heartedly even while watching her child behaviour was maddening. I thought slapping g the little demon spawn was a better option.

After a moment I could take no more and waltz over and haulterior the behaviour with a shap, " you're being cruel and it's not remotely cute. Knock it off now!" Her demeanor turned from her I tended victim and toward me with a half smile. My words effecting her very little as her mother drew I  a sharp breath. I awaited the " do the you dare tell my child what to do," bullshit and was quite ready to lay into the mother if need be.

The child studied me like one would study a bug under glass. Great! The next generation of psychopathic assholes is well under way. I briefly wondered what cult she'd join, or if she'd just go it alone torturing animals before escalating to bigger prey. It broke my heart a little. Not for the child, certainly not for her parents, but for all those who would have to encounter her on a daily basis. For all those people who would try to make a difference in her life for the better, only to find out that she's already well past the point of no return.

I pray she doesn't have siblings.

I really do adore children. I just don't adore all of them. Nor am I soft hearted enough to believe that they can all be fixed, loved enough that they'll change, or that they should all be "just who they are." I have been blessed to have and have cared for some amazing children whom are now amazingly compassionate, strong, self assured, productive members of society. They are certainly the best of their father and I.

Long may they live, love, and give.

Milk Carton

On occasion I receive some odd requests. Pictures, dates, personal information of a questionable nature. Some guy even email to ask for my worn socks. Overall I laugh and hit the delete button wondering just how many poor fools fall for that shit. But none have been so persistent as this spam trafficer. Once again I have to wonder if anyone has actually fallen for this ridiculousness.

Unlike quite a few of my other would be trafficking freaks, this twatwaffle wants me to pay for my own kidnapping travel! How absurd is that? I mean sure I have some great shots that would look stunning on the side of a milk carton, or do they use those 4 litre jobbies for adults taken into some kind of human sex trafficking? I do so wish we could round up these morons who pretend to be military personnel, complete with stolen pictures; and spamming jackasses. Oh the joy of getting them all in one room and torturing them for day...maybe weeks or months on end with the Sound of Music soundtrack while having them watch those disgusting medical youtube videos all damn day long. Either that or they could listen to sound bites from Trump until their brains leaked out their ears.

In any case as you can be certain I am happily still standing tall upon Canadian soil and dancing a merry free jig.

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Wealthbliss
Enjoy/get\take plenty:many:most:majority of the things you need/want\desire by travelling:coming to Nigeria\Africa ALL ALONE together with ONLY me any moment:time from now on.The abundance:excess of whatever/everything you are looking:searching:craving for are all expecting\awaiting ONLY you ALL ALONE together with ONLY me in Nigeria/Africa at the present.You are paying\responsible/accountable for your own transport\travelling fare:expenses and feeding[both to/coming and fro\going].Write all your phone numbers and E-mail address{es} ONLY IF you AGREE/ACCEPT and you are ready[prepared] to start travelling:coming to enjoy Nigeria/Africa ONLY you ALL ALONE together with ONLY me.{DO NOT answer\reply/respond\text/e-mail IF you are NOT travelling:visiting:coming:exploring:touring}.
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Too Many Flags, Too Many Fairs...

I've not traveled as far and wide as many of my service men and women, but I've come to rest my head for a spell in a number of countries and states long enough to call them home. I value and cherish each and every experience I've had upon my travels. Both the good, bad, and horrifically comical. It has however left me with an ache in my chest that no one place can subside.

Each of my homes, be they long term or almost "passing fancies" that drew me in; have given me an insight into so many wonderful people and their respective cultures. The kindness I was afforded in each was soul drenchingly beautiful. Southern hospitality, island charm, First National pride, Latin passion, French decadence, Creole desire.  I remember it all. I remember how I was welcomed with open arms. How I seemed to fit.

I look around and note, this fits too. As well it should, I was born here. And still I feel like a woman who is home, and yet homesick all at once. A Gypsy soul with too many flags too call anyone of them "my true home." I've set down roots now, and it feels amazing, Yet I do so long, for my other homes and the rich tapestry of culture they enveloped me in.

Until I am home again, I love you. I miss you and shall carry you within my heart always.

Xo My Gypsy heart
♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆☆♡☆♡☆♡

BALLAD OF THE FROGMAN

 I’ve been around the world twice, talked to everybody once, Seen two white whales ****, been to two pigmy picnics and met a man from marble head with a wooden ****, been to three world’s fairs, tow sheep shears, and a pig ****, drank everything from Rum to ***, seen a goat rope, two worms arm wrestle, and watched a monkey try to **** a football, seen a six pearl petered pino form Diego Garcia and watched the water burn on the Persian Gulf, I’ve pushed more peter, more sweeter, more completer than any other peter pusher in town, cause I’m a lover, I’m a fighter, I’m an American Naval UDT/SEAL diver, that’s a rootin, tootin, lootin, shootin, parachutin, double cap cripping, scuba diving, Ka-bar carrying, Rolex wearing FROGMAN!!!- last of the bare-knuckle fighters!!! There’s no sky too high, no sea to deep, no muff to tuff, we dive at five and that’s no jive, that’s eat, ****, suck, nibble, bite, chew, hog style, dog style, any kinda style, wine, dine, intertwine, *********, **********, ********, ream, steam and dry clean, And I can drive anything the military has to offer, them 2x’s 4x’s 6x’s 8x’s, them big ass mother****ers that bend in the middle and go shooo shooo when you step on the breaks, now lady if you don’t like my face you can **** it, birds do it and fly from it, bee’s do it and die from it, dogs do it and stick to it, So here’s to it, and from it, and to it again, and if you don’t do it to it when you get to it, you won’t do it to when you get to it again, So up the old red rooster, just like she use to whip it to her, smack her on the ass, send her on her way and never mind her skinny ass legs!!!!!!!!

Frosh Your Ass Off Ontario

It's that time of year again. That busy week where common sense and partying like it's 1999 slam dance in tutu's and clogs while carrying pokeballs. Have fun, expand your world, meet new people, make new friends. Just remember that every action has a consequence, Don't loose you 4.0 gpa or worse your freedom.