Jeepers Creepers

I don't scare easily.

I grew up on the poor side of town. I was orphaned at fourteen. I lived in foster homes. I lived on the street. I was homeless for awhile. I was raped at seventeen. My rapist stalked me for two years.

Thinking married life would save me from the rapist/stalker, I married a 'nice man' who decided on our wedding day that the vows included the phrase 'to beat and kill'. It took 18 months to get away from that moron. Oh, and when he destroyed my vintage Peavey T-40 because I gave it more attention than I did him, there were a few local bass players ready and waiting to kick his pansy butt. The story has a happy ending, they found me another T-40; it was similar but it didn't have a 3 digit serial number like the one from my youth....sigh.

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Then I played with the narcissistic ex hubby in a court of law that decided that restraining orders would infringe on my abuser's rights. Thank goodness for baseball bats.

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I kept one in my car and another by my door. He only played with me once after our divorce. He tried to rape me in my car. Lucky for him, he only tried that once. Now he just makes eyes at me.

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Anything that has happened since to me is laughable.

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I once walked in on my sister's ex-con boyfriend beating her up. He came after me and I tore his clothes off, pushed him out a locked door and left him naked in a snowstorm two blocks from the cop shop. He was on probation. I got the last laugh.  

My sister was NOT amused.

I was...

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Last summer, some moron threatened to beat me up because I wouldn't give him my parking space in downtown; he sped off when I growled 'bring it Bubba' as I smashed my hand down on the parking meter. I shattered an agate band I was wearing!

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Do not piss off the redhead.

She is mean.

She is nasty.
Nothing scares her anymore.
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Well, almost nothing....
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I got an email today from a man who says he kisses the pictures on my website and smells my digital hair. He signed the email with with the same name used on an envelope sent to my home address last week. I never opened it as there was no return address and I didn't know the sender. I'm thinking it's the marriage counselor stalker dude. I'm getting freaked out now.

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I guess it's time to buy a gun. Thank goodness my daddy taught me how to shoot.

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Stay safe.
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Love,
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S.