The Joy of Fiction

Fiction is fun...especially when you put a splash of the truth in it. 

Writing crazy- @ss fiction a good way to make the people who you don't want in your life run away because they think you're slowly going mad. 

I'm so happy. 

I recently learned that I got rid of a narcissistic bonehead who was prone to yelling at me in private and destroying my work.  

He wants nothing more to do with me!!!

Yeah!!!

I'm a lucky lady!!!
Life is good!

Love ya,

S. 

Internet Follies

Online fortune pasted on my Facebook wall. 

''S. sweetie, having an internal talk about what you need in your next relationship could make your next date a success.''

Okay...

I need a skewer to the heart and a lobotomy. 

Men = pain. 

If I ever get another one, someone please shoot me. 

The keys to the gun cabinet are in my undie drawer. 

Love,

S. 

Expecting a Backlash

pics on Sodahead

Okay...

I'm a member of a blog that I cannot unfollow due to a Google glitch. 

So, every once in a while, I'll get a post from this website that was written by a ball-less, control freakish, insecure little man. 

I got one of those today. 

The little dude was whining about his fat wife.  She won't work out.  She won't do this.  She won't do that. 

He's not attracted to her and can't have sex with her. 

I read all the way down to the end of his pity party and saw her weight. 

He estimates it to be 170 pounds.  She is, according to him, 5' 4"

That's it? 

170 pounds? 

The world is ending because she's a little overweight. 

Maybe she isn't overweight at all.  He writes that doesn't even know her weight. 


Maybe he's just looking for an excuse to get a little something-something on the side. 

Probably...

I left a snarky comment for Blue Balls Bob and expect a backlash. 

Let me help, poor lil' Robbie...

It's not about weight per se but muscle mass and measurements. 

I was a model.  I was 5' 6" before being injured in a car crash.  I am now a little under 5' 5".

As a model, I was a size five and weighed 135 pounds! 

During my last year of high school, I was a size 8/10 and weighed 145 pounds. 

The doctors say that my ideal weight is 145. 

During my 20th high school reunion, I was still a size 8 and weighed approximately 150 pounds.  I worked out a lot and had a ton of muscle mass.  I had a 28" waist. 

I've had a lot of stress.  I ran for office and stopped working out daily.  Over the past three years of political life, my weight has ballooned to a little over 165 but I feel and look like I've gained 40 pounds.  I am a size twelve and hate it.

I work out one hour daily now because I miss hot girl clothes.  My waist is less than 33" because my 33 x 32 jeans are loose but I am afraid to measure it.  I know that the day those pants fall off, I can start measuring myself again. 


Yes, that is how I diet.  Crazy, huh?  There is nothing more satisfying that parading your hot self around your love ...getting turned on...and having your pants fall off on their own.    
Those were the days...
It is not my weight that's the problem.  It is that my muscles are not where they ought to be.  Once I get nice and toned, a few pounds may drop off -but- I'll look like I've lost much more weight than I actually have. 

As a behemoth old lady, my measurements are 38D, <33", 38".  I'll shrink that middle back to where I once was and probably have to do exercises to get my boobs back. 

Men still ogle me. 

I am told that I have more va-va-va-voom now.  A guy I've known forever told me that I was 'hot' before I gained weight but ...now my figure makes him crazy....

and yes, I avoid him now because I don't need any temptation in my life.

sigh...

Why didn't I date him when we sat next to each other in school? 

Damn....

It's annoying. 

Anyway... the little controlling one needs to grow a pair. 

It is a myth that thin is 120 pounds.  I modeled at 135.  In all truthfulness, back then, people were afraid of AIDS and they liked their models with a little meat on their bones.  That's probably why I got the gig. 

Still... any man that whiny is a control freak looking to have an affair. 


And, he should count himself lucky if he can still screw because he knows where the equipment is. 

If you know what you're doing, sex with a 170 pound person can be exquisite.  Perhaps one needs to brush up on his technique. 

Good sex with a 350 pounds person is fairly easy.   

It becomes difficult to find the equipment somewhere between 425 and 500 pounds.  That is where I draw my line.  If I spend more time finding it than kissing it and if I can't use both hands because I have to hold up your gut to access the fun....well....then....we have a problem. 

And...young one...

Men don't stay hot for long.  Old age does a number on men.

My advice, dude, stick with the lady trying to please you. 

Don't piss her off.

Most pissed off women are bitchy and won't give a rat's ass what you want. 

Most women get bored of whiny guys and don't tell them what they want. 

Bored women aren't very exciting. 

Damn...


I sure miss my weekends in bed with nothing but vegetarian pizza and those lovely protein shakes he used to reward me with when I did a good job. 

I miss the protein shakes. 

If you like making those protein shakes, stop being so damn controlling.  If you complain about her weight and make her tired working out with weights, you're going to miss the workout you really do want...huh, boy?

Oh, I studied psychoneuroimmunology in grad school.  If you ignore everything else I write, pay attention to this:

 Incessant nagging increases cortisol, which inhibits the break-down of fats and slows metabolism. 

You could be the cause of her problem. 

Hell, you could be her problem. 

I hope she runs like the wind. 

Love ya,

S.

Old Lady Blues

Have you ever met a rock star and not know who that person was?

Allegedly that happened to me. 

I know a lot of agents.  For a time, I had a huge list of online contacts and agents would send me promos, songs and pics of up and coming musicians to share with my list. 

One day, they sent me a link to a song from a beautiful young lady....

I was enamoured from the moment she sang that first note. 

She had a familiar voice. 

It's strong, like Patsy Cline's.  

Her voice is fun like that of Belinda Carlisle.

She's energetic and liberating, like Pink.

She had all the qualities of women I admire, rolled up into one positive person. 

So...

In a public forum, I told her to keep up the good work because I know she'd eventually inspire legions of young girls to live the lives of their dreams. 

I knew she was destined to be a superstar!!!

She said I was charming. 

My teenage daughter won't let me get over the fact that this beautiful woman, with the amazing voice, sings a song I play all the time when I'm by myself.  This songs speaks to me.  When I hear it, I remember the half-grin the forty year old version of my high school sweetheart has when he's thinking thoughts he won't share. 

Some things are the same at sixteen as they are at forty.  When gets randy, he grins.  I always look at him and say "what?" in a long, drawn-out soft tone. 

To which, he always replies to with a quickened, sing-song "nothing".

He won't share his feelings.  I pushed the man away because grappling with my feelings is difficult to do around him.   God always allowed him in my life when I'm unable to do those things that feel natural.  Why is that? 

The truth is that I'm no longer his muse. 

Yet, he's still mine. 

I should have told him what he means to me -but- I know he wants skinny, young, beautiful, cellulite free and refined.  I'm chunky, curvy in the wrong places, old, prunish, dimpled, and part-nympho.   Well, I don't know what he wants...I just know that something made him leave me after I mentioned a scholarship back in the day. 

I was so heart-broken, that music scholarship didn't mean anything anymore.  I realized that love was the most important thing in the world and decided to stay in the city to care for my elderly grandfather. 

My worst memory is a spring morning at a bus stop.  I still have to drive by that place once a month or so and each time it reduces me to tears.  I remember that spring day, two weeks after he left me.  I felt him approach me.  I turned, looked up and saw that he'd been crying. 


I could feel the love drip off of him.  I could feel his regret.  I knew he left for a reason, I must have hurt him somehow.  On that bright sunny day, I remember feeling sick at seeing him in so much pain and I swore up and down I'd never do that to him again. 

If I don't get too close, I can't hurt him ever again.

I can't risk telling him that he's loved.  It's no big secret.  Everyone can see it....well....maybe not him.

I can love him with my art. 


I can love him when I pray for his happiness after drinking my shot of vodka and taking my little sleeping pill that usually helps keep the dreams of him away.

It's a selfish delusion to think I have the right to burden him with my feelings. 

I listen to this song and tell myself that I screwed up and need to suck it up.  Maybe in our next lifetime we can fix what I unraveled. 

It helps...a little. 

As much as this song speaks to me and as much as I'd love to meet the singer some day;  I am holding out hope that the woman I conversed with really wasn't named Katy....it will save my ego to believe that the person was an impersonator. 

Still, I will always be a big fan of any woman that inspires my daughters to live their lives in the manner best for them.  

Katy Perry Rocks! 

Love ya,

S.  

Broken

So, I tried to get eight hours of sleep like a good girl. 

I did my nightly ritual of lighting candles around the bedroom.  Yeah, I know its not safe but it helps me sleep. 

I worshipped Dionysus, thanking him for the elixir that made dreamless sleep possible as I slammed a wine glass of full vodka down my throat.  To make it seem healthier, I added a few drops of Valerian infused vodka to it.

I feel things I'm not supposed to feel.  I find that vodka takes the edge off.  I still hurt...just a little less. 

Why in the heck do I feel this way? 

It was 2:00 a.m.

I lay there wondering if I should go to the studio and work. 

I couldn't move. 

Then the visions came. 

At first I didn't understand. 

I saw the university where I studied health psychology.  I saw the neighborhood surrounding it where I recently spent hours going door to door to try to get a friend elected. 

Weird...I was running for mayor in another city but I wanted this man to win. 

I saw the office in the area that I'm tempted to rent on Tuesdays but don't know if I could tolerate the drive.   Whenever I drive on the highway, around a little bar called the It'll Do Lounge, I feel a tugging at my soul that makes me sad. 

That bar is a few blocks away from the university. 

Then I realized that there is a bigger reason for my hesitancy. 

In my waking dream, I saw a little house.   

My car was parked on the side street as I went door to door, meeting people, talking to them, wanting to know what they wanted their government to do for them. 

I remember that house on Fenton, the one that I was afraid to visit.  The one that I feared for some stupid reason I don't quite understand.   

I knocked anyway and no one was home. 

The vision faded and I remembered an event that occurred last week, on the 16th of January. 

I was birthday shopping and found myself at a shopping center a mile away from this house.  I had this nagging feeling to visit the restaurant next store and order soup.  I wasn't hungry. 

They had vegan food. 

I could get tea. 

I decided to go home instead.  I wasn't hungry, why make myself sick? 

The memory faded when I found myself startled by a noise.  In a hypnogogic state, I heard my ex bring my car back to the house and glanced at the clock. 

It was 5:30 a.m.

I immediately fell asleep and awakened again around 8:00 to more visions. 

I won't give life to what I see. 

They must be warnings...

But at least I understand now. 

There are men all around me. 

Some men I've known since I was a child. 

One I usually meet at a steakhouse near that vegan restaurant.  He's waiting in the wings, I'm trying to get him married off to someone else.  He says I'm hot.  We've got too much in common.  By that I mean, we both are psychic with OCD.  Things would be boring....how can you get dirty if you're afraid of filth?  How can you be surprised when you know what is going to happen? 

Another man, oh, we met in another city but I found he only fives four blocks away from me.  He'd sit and listen to me talk.  We were both members of the same business group.  He's a single dad and I really want to help bring business to him so I try to network with him.   One day, he meets me in the parking lot and asks me who this Mike person was and why I don't seem happy to say his name.

People see my unhappiness.  I don't like that. 

Then there is another member of that group who asked me why I look like I haven't had a good bang session. 

And my actor friend who wants to know why I don't act married.

And a guy a few doors down who wants to know if I'd.....oh, I can't repeat that in public.  Let's just say....he's not very discreet. 

There are more stories....after three and a half years there have been lots of little temptations. 

I know I don't want any part of it....of them....and I thought it was due to a delusion that I was still in love with an ex. 

An ex that I thought of when I knocked on that door on Fenton. 

An ex that I write about all of the time.

One of the two exes that I kicked off of facebook (meaning none of them are my FB friends anymore).

An ex that I see at that PHO restaurant. 

The ex whose memory is making me daydream about moving to Mexico just to get away from the triggers. 

Then it hit me.

I don't avoid men because I'm a deluded fool.

I'm a deluded fool because my subconscious wants to go back to the one person who didn't break my heart on purpose.  The one person who didn't smack me around, steal my money, destroy my property, spread believable lies about me, and make me clean his stinky socks. 

He just fed me coffee with weird stuff in it. 

I want to go back to the time when I could trust just sitting with someone, in silence, and know it would be okay.  I want to go to the time when someone looked at me with love, I didn't question it.  I want to go back to the time when a dinner was just a dinner, holding hands meant something, and no one had to feel pressure to say three little words when a look said all that needed to be said. 



That was insightful. 



I'm going to go out to that part of town today.  I go there every Saturday to support a business whose profits go to help battered women.  I like to donate my suits to them because they give them to women escaping the grip of abuse by looking for a good paying job. 

My dream has aways been to start a foundation that would help these women regain their self-esteem.  I have an esthetician on board, a life coach, and a hypnotherapist.  I'd like to get a massage therapist, a psychotherapist, an acupuncturist, a yoga instructor, a dentist, and a cosmetic surgeon on board. 

If I ever get money... this is what I'll do.  I even have a name for it; Laxmi, after a  Goddess of prosperity, beauty and courage.   

So, I'm hoping that if I go to that place today...I will work through the feelings and come back not missing, not desiring, and not wanting my friend.  It is entirely possible that I don't want the wrong things....I may just want the wrong person.  I mean, seriously, he doesn't like me like that and I must be freakin' insane to even think he does on any flipping level. 

My friends will argue that last point with me, so I don't let them talk about it anymore.  He did take a picture of me once when my shirt got a little stretched out and revealed too much.  He refused to let me see it.  Part of me thinks he was being kind because I looked like hell.  The dirty old lady in me....well, she wonders my old lady saggy things didn't make it into a spank bank.

But then...I'm just a pervert and there is no reason to assume he is one, too. 

Truth is, unrequited love is deadly to a friendship and I really miss being able to be his friend. 

I've had these dreams for over six years now.  Every morning I wake up thinking that I'm broken because I want the wrong things. 

Maybe, I don't want the wrong things.  Maybe I just must have a sick subconscious desire to make my old flame throw up by seeing a little too much of me. 

May this end today.



Love ya,

S.

Next Day Edit:

I just realized something...

I want my ex to live on Fenton Street because my other ex lives less than a half-mile away. I feel both of these men in the same neighborhood. It is probably because I want to contain my old flames to a one mile stretch of town so I can easily avoid them.

They both hurt me in much the same way, I just don't let them know that I know that there were other women while we were together.  After we broke up, they both lingered around and bad-mouthed me.

This is a good thing to mentally connect them to the same neighborhood.  It means that I think of them as the same kind of people....the kind it is best to love at a distance. 

They taught me that I'm stupid.

I don't know why I love people who tear me down at every opportunity.

Why in the world should I love someone who looks at me with puppy eyes only to make fun of me on Facebook?

My other ex did the same thing. After he remarried, he tried to get me to screw him in the back seat of his car only to hire a lawyer to harass me in the court system for years.  He's the reason my name is bizarre....I'm too conservative to name myself after three 80's rock songs, so....he didn't have a clue who I was. 

No...I won't tell you the names of the songs. 

The internet screwed my name-change scheme up.  His wife quickly found me in '98.  Damn...  She used to call and ask for advice on how to deal with him.  I never knew what to say.  The last time he propositioned me was in '06.  I haven't let him near me since.  I know that when he had to be nearby, his wife always went with him.  Thank goodness, he's so good around her.  I love my replacement!!

You know....if my intuitions are right, God has given me a gift by putting the men from my past in the same neighborhood.   If I'm wrong, at least my subconscious mind has grouped them together. 
All I have to do is stay away.   I will not rent an office in the area.  I will not eat at my favorite Italian restaurant.  So, when the salaried jailers in the city where I ran for mayor leave work early and enjoy a two hour lunch at this restaurant on the taxpayer dime, I won't be there to take pictures for my reporter buddy.   I know what they're doing...one of the jailers is the mayor of a neighboring city.  It's only a matter of time before I get the evidence I need to get my friend an article that will get the whole city talking...

It'll happen...probably when people start to question why we have to buy jail services from a neighboring city.  That would be perfect timing, wouldn't it? 

Ah, but I digress. 

The subconscious mind is a funny thing....it knows exactly what I need to see to make me not want what I thought I wanted. 

I know...

My heart is a liar.

Men who love you won't act like these men do.  

Neither men ever loved me.

My heart is stupid.

I collect archaic folk recipes. I have an old wiccan recipe for a de-lusting potion that is made of the juices of various kinds of peppers. I tried that once before in '08 when the sex dreams got out of hand.


I drank it and, the truth of the matter is that brought the guy practically to my doorstep.   I drank it before I met with him, too.  I'm not sure it worked, though.  My breath must've been super intense that day! I did sweat a lot, too. 

Don't drink hot pepper sauce and expect to look pretty.  It doesn't work.
I'm going to try that potion again after I move and change my phone number.

I can't find a potion to destroy love.

The moment I do that....it will be the primary food in my diet.

I love far too much. 

Like I said, my heart is stupid. 

Cheers!

Something Clicked

The chit-chat about his stuff and her stuff must have worked.

Or it is the new neighbor from New York that talked some sense into him..

but something clicked today.

Yeppers...

I saw a car on Ebay.  We contacted the guy and found out that he only lives a couple of blocks away.  We met at a coffee shop. 

He is a musician from New York.  I don't know his name but the guy offered Mike a decent car for only $2,500.  I promised to use "Buy it Now" and take the car off the man's hands but he flew home and removed the "Buy it Now" button.

We asked him what happened and he wrote back and told us to only bid $1,500.  We bid a little above the promised amount.  

A promise is a promise.  We could end up losing it in a bidding war...it's no biggie.   There will be other cars. 

I don't know what the guy told Mike during the test drive but he came home and said the car is going to be the beginning of his new life.  He'll start talking care of his stuff.  He'll start taking care of body, his image, his house, his needs, his car, and his career. 

Then he told me he loved me. 

Whether or not we divorce, I'll just be thrilled if he lives another decade.  I'm getting worried about his health...and still think my sticking around is making him pack on the pounds.  His mother doesn't want her kids married and her not talking to him really hurts.

Men get fat when something is missing in their lives.  Unhappy men get chunky.    

But, something today made him realize that he has to take responsibility for his happiness. 

I don't know the neighbor's name but, whoever he is, I'm already a big fan. 

Thought you'd like the update. 

Take care of your stuff.

Love,

S.

End note:

Sometimes taking care of your stuff can mean getting rid of nutty people in your life. 

The problem with estrangement is that married people can't warn each other about psychos and related behavior. 

In the former post, I talk about the couple with political aspirations and how the wife tends to take offense at everything and the husband verbally assaults me over it. 

Today, I mentioned to Mike that I felt guilty for considering to ditch my political party over the narcissist and his wife.  Michael told me that he was the treasurer for this guy's campaign for Congress.  He said that the guy refused to communicate with him and finally sent the receipts to him two weeks after the federal deadline claiming he was busy up in the mountains building chicken coops with his buddies. 

Oh, really....

The man was consistently calling me badmouthing Mike and asking me to get him to file the campaign reports.  He would worry that he and his wife would be fined several hundred dollars a day.  They have a big family.  I was really freaking out for them and I'd venture to the man cave in the basement to try to find things. 

I'd mention the calls to Mike but he really wasn't listening to me at the time.  The whole thing made me question who the man in the basement really was and whether or not he became a zombie and his brains fell out. This was the same time the lawyers from the city were harassing me and telling me Mike was lazy and stupid.  I was really wondering if he was brain-dead. 

Lawyers lie.  Aspiring politicians lie.  I guess that explains all of that. 

I learned today that it would appear that I'm not the only person this man tried to set up to fail. 
Oh well,  that wanna-be politician never learned to keep his enemies close....that's a shame.  There are some people you should keep on your side. 

It's a fun lesson. 

I'll get the chance to take care of him later. 

Cheerio!

His Stuff.... Her Stuff....and Their Stuff

(Damn....my cassette of this album broke yesterday.  I've had it since the mid-80's.  YouTube is giving me my Police fix until I can buy a CD.)

Okay...

I tried to have the relationship talk again yesterday. 

I'm failing miserably. 

He wants me to stay here to help him with the kids.  I don't know if I can do that. 

Let me explain...

Because the economy is so bad, many couples are choosing what they call a non-divorce. 

These people live separate lives but stay married for the sake of the kids and to keep assets and health insurance.  Since we really have no assets except the house and he isn't covering me on any health insurance, I find myself staying for the kids.

The problem, though, is that he is taking liberties with my time.  I have to be on-call twenty-four hours a day due to his ever-changing schedule and that makes it hard for me to commit to a job. 

The other problem is that I'm a woman and....

well....

things haven't happened. 

Things aren't happening. 

Things are not going to happen for a very, very long time....

 if ever. 

So, I find myself sharing a house with a man I consider my friend.  Doing so puts me in the position of ignoring my needs for fear of hurting his feelings. 

He says he wants to fix things.....eventually. 

I'm going bonkers as I have no outlet for my energy. 

I'm trying to re-establish my business.  He is constantly changing his hours and expectations of me.  I have access to little money.   I am quickly realiing that I need to find an office within access of the bus but outside of city limits due to audit threats from his former boss (the gossipy, lying, and number fudging head of the tax audit department). 

The phones are on the fritz. 

The lock on one of the doors is broken. 

The front door looks like someone tried to break in; the door jam has become detached from the wall. 

His car is dead, so he is taking mine.  I am without transportation after 2:00 PM until about 9:00 AM. 

This puts me in the position of having to do things the long and hard way, wait until he is home to make appointments, and find alternative means of communicating with people.  I really don't have time to spare. 

I'm referring potential clients to my competition until I am sure that I can cope with what is going on.

There are days when I wonder why I'm attracting so much garbage into my life.


I'm being asked to do volunteer graphic design for a politician that craps on everything I do.  In fact, I'll spent hours on a project (sometimes years) and she'll just take it from me.  It happened when I tried to design a yard sign.  She did it with a website.  She did it with a campaign for city council. 

In fact, when she asked for my help, she made it a point to say it was something that I couldn't "mess anything up". 

Geez.....she can do it herself. 

For an artist, perpetually unhappy people are tough to work for.  When you know someone is going to b!tch about anything you do, you find yourself unmotivated to spend three hours with Photoshop to create something decent.  You just want to go to Morguefile and get a .jpg because nothing you do will be good enough. 


The lady that needs my help has an obnoxious husband who likes to call me and chew me out over trivial matters.  She takes offense at just about everything I say and he'll go on the attack, via gossip, emails or even the telephone. 

Let me tell you, it takes a ton of self-control NOT to suggest to him that he's impotent.  Why would anyone harass a hypnotist on the phone?  That's a stupid thing to do.

I decided not to tell him the limp noodle hypnotic story because...well....at least he's getting something.  There is no other reason for a couple to make up reasons to fight with someone. 

He's picking fights with me in order to show her he's protecting her....in other words, he's doing it to get laid.

The last phone call was completely insidious.  He told me that I didn't represent the PAC I'm involved in.  He told me that I didn't represent the Libertarian party.  I tried to confront him over a deal he made with a Republican to have me run for office to help the Republican win.  Apparently, the Republican made great strides to help with wife network politically.  When I tried to keep the deal he and his wife made in order to help the Republican, I got my @ss chewed. 

Now, this Libertarian mentioned the deal in a room full of Republicans, who were pressuring me to keep my promise to help their party member win.  It killed me to be told to go back on his word and see the dissappointment in people I highly respect.  This guy is now on the party board, so he said he cannot afford to tell other people what actually happened or it will ruin his reputation.  I felt so set up by him!!!   Luckily, I am the queen of embedded hypnotic commands and subliminal imagery, so I found other ways of helping a Republican win. 

I made sure everyone saw that I stood behind him.  I name dropped and mentioned that I agreed with him.  I said he'd be good for the city.

I did mention my frustration with a friend who is a Republican and he's trying to get me into their fold.  After getting yelled at so much and dicked around, I'm thinking of quitting the Libertarian Party.  I don't know if this guy is a psychopath or just a narcissist but he alone is enough to ruin an otherwise good time.  They let him get involved in everything; so there is no escaping his obnoxiousness. 

I can get more done if I hang out with the guys who have the money.  The truth is, they will never get anything done in the face of lies, deceit, and untreated psychopathology.

 I didn't realize how angry I was until I spent five hours trying to design a convention logo on GIMP.  I must have made three versions before realizing that there was nothing I could create that wouldn't bring criticism and charges of being passive aggressive from this person and her husband. 

I asked to meet with her to find out what she wanted.  She refused citing a lack of daycare.  I told her I'd pay my daughter to babysit and she declined.  I can't work with her...

so I quit. 

I hate quitting...but there are times when you can't set yourself up to be someone's punching bag. 

The homemaking thing is becoming tedious, too. 

I'm trying to cook everything from stratch to help him my ex and the eldest daughter to lose weight. 

The house is gross from the years I took away from homemaking and he was home, so I'm trying to clean everything up, repaint, repair and get rid of whatever is here that is making me sick.  There is something here that is making it hard for me to breathe.  I don't know what it is.  I'm thinking it must be mold. 

And, the school nurse has been really sweet about helping my daughter and the neighbor kids when they get filthy at school.  So, I made it my mission to collect clothing for her to share with the children who need them.  That's probably the one thing I do that doesn't drive me bonkers.

I don't get a lot of sleep.  I've started taking sleeping pills to avoid the alcohol but sometimes I forget and end up taking both.  I sleep a little too well then. 

Today....I had to have the talk about my ex taking liberties with my time and possessions while letting his responsibilities fall to the wayside.  He wants me to continue doing everything I am doing. 

So, we talked about his stuff and her stuff. 

We both brought things into the marriage.  He brought his football card collection (that takes up most of my walk-in closet).  I brought in my musical instruments. 

That is normal.  We get to keep what we brought here.

He brought in more debt than I but I amassed more student loan debt during the course of the marriage.  I was stupid to use my inheritance to pay off his credit cards.   My student loans are mine and he has no right to claim any money I borrow for school to pay household or legal expenses (yet...that happens).

 I am responsible for those loans, they considered my stuff.

And then we have baggage, lots and lots of baggage. 

I explained....

When I need to talk to him about lawn maintenance and he screams at me that he won't help because his mother made him mow the lawn when he was ten years of age....that's his stuff. 

It has nothing to do with me. 

When I need to coordinate taking classes so that I can earn a decent living and he refuses because his family doesn't want me educated....well....that's his stuff.   

It is really limiting my ability to do right by my family. 

When I am in the hospital and want pain relief and he yells and screams that all women are worthless pieces of crap because that's what his mother and sister are.... that's his stuff, too. 

I'm tired of dealing with his stuff!!

We don't communicate because he says women are stupid (just like mom and sis) and he won't listen to me.  My life is suffering.  I am missing out on having a relationship because of his stuff. 

He didn't get it. 

So, I finally got frustrated and put it together for him....

I can't have the communication, intimacy, and respect in this relationship because of his history and his stuff. 

He looked confused. 

Then I asked him if he was ever been denied sex because I was sexually assaulted as a teen. 

He said no.

That's because I had a ton of therapy to work through my stuff  before allowing myself to get married.  I need him to do the same. 

I'm not sure he gets it. 

I want him to be responsible for his stuff.  I will be responsible for mine. 

When his stuff interferes with my life, we have a problem.  When his responsibilities encroach upon my ability to meet my commitments, we won't be able to live together, even as roommates.

I wonder if that would make a good book....His stuff/Her stuff.

It works with everyone, even on a macro level. 

Libertarians helping Republicans win...that's the party's stuff. 

People making deals with the competition and then refusing to tell the truth about it...well...that's a political idiot's stuff.

Misreading insults into every word, picture, action or deed.....that's the idiots wife's stuff. 

My examining my past relationships so I don't desire to date....well, that's my stuff.  Seeing how crappy I am helps keep me faithful in the face of....loneliness. 

It is an interesting concept...to bad I'm not good about explaining it yet.  Maybe if I write about it more. 

Oh, and it is dawning on me that it is time for me to get glasses.  This screen is hard to see and the numerous typos I miss is disturbing. 


Here is the lesson of my life: I guess I can't correct what I refuse to see. 

It sucks getting old...but then..that's my stuff. 

Love ya,

S.

Freaky Dreams & Blah Chick Disguises

 I dream of men before I meet them.

I dreamt of my high school sweetheart when I was fourteen and actually drew a picture of him.  I wrote songs about what I visualized us doing but never could get his name...so the songs have different names.  When Tom saw that he threw my tablature notebook at me and flew into a jealous rage at a bus station. 

A handsome young man and his friend pulled him off of me and helped me onto the bus.

Now, that young man is middle aged and living in the basement apartment.  We married eleven years after that bus stop experience.    

I dreamt of Michael when I was seven years old.  In the dreams, he was always on top of me, but at the time, I couldn't understand what that meant.  It was a crushing feeling in my chest. 

I don't want to write about those dreams.   


I did write several songs that described our future relationship before I was fourteen.  The worst was one titled 'Silver Shackles'... I think that describes our marriage quite nicely. It feels like a prison with lots and lots of sparkly things. 

I'd rather have freedom and smiles than tears and jewelry.


I'll keep mum on the dream inspired poetry I wrote describing Tom re-entering my life as an old man.

Dreams are interesting....

When I was living with my Satanist friend, Anton, I would dream of both Tom and Mike. 

I would cry about Tom in my sleep and it interfered with the loud parties he and his buddies had in the living room, so Anton and his coven cast a spell to release my pain.  That way I wouldn't be a downer during the mushroom-fest.

I didn't know what they were doing until Tom found me (some twenty-five miles away) and threw my Satanist roommate into a beer case at a convenience store.  Then I discovered some of my things missing and asked why he needed my hairbrush.  Anton explained things to me. 

I learned on that day that to cut a soul-mate out of your aura tends to bring them to you rather quickly.  It's best to send them love and well wishes than to push them away.

When I did that, Tom went away for a long time and, from what I hear, found love.

Anton cast a spell to help me find the one I was supposed to be with.  As I slept one night, he yanked me out of bed and told me to lead him to the place I saw.  In a trance and in my bedclothes, I walked at least thirty blocks with my friend holding my hand.  I stopped by a Christian church at the point where Broadway (the main road in town) turned into Brighton Boulevard (a tiny street in the warehouse district).  Anton told me to tell him my love's name.  The name that came to me was Something John. 

Would you care to guess what Michael's middle name is?

Would you care to guess who worked at the warehouse by the place I stopped walking? 

That was far too freaky. 

When I recounted the story to Mike, he said that he used to drive that route in the wee hours of the morning every day when out on the prowl with his friends. 



Anton never forgot.  When I started dating Roscoe, Anton would confront him and cause trouble.  Ross was never good enough.  Anton always found something to yell at him about.  Ross got chewed out for forgetting my birthday, for hanging out at the bars and leaving me home alone.  Now, that I think about it, Anton knew he wasn't the one for me.  I think Anton was a better friend than I gave him credit for being. 

Then there was the day Roscoe tried to kill me. 

Oh, my...that was scary.  He beat me unmercifully and I fell asleep crying.  I awoke by myself the next morning to the sound of pounding on the front door. 

It was Anton.  I hadn't seen him in over two years. 

He spent the day with me.  He took me to lunch and we sat at my favorite park by the flowers and fed the ducks.  We didn't talk much.  He knows how much comfort I get in silence. 

He took me home around 7:30 at night and waited until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door.  Upon the door unlocking, he reached over and gave he a huge kiss and glared at Roscoe. 

I was stunned. 

Ross was stunned. 

Anton left without saying a word. 

Ross refused to talk about it. 

He didn't hit me for awhile after that.  He and his mistress just avoided me and it was not such a bad thing. 


That was the last time I saw Anton until '05 when he pulled up alongside me in a parking lot while I was shopping. 

Anton is one scary man. 


He taught me to trust my intuition and listen to my dreams. 

When I ignore that lesson, crazy things happen. 

When I minimize my dreams by saying that they are the result of my subconscious mind clearing out the crap, they tend to come true. 

I had a dream diary for awhile but when the Tom dreams started in '05, I quit writing them down because they disturbed me.  And, by the way, most of those dreams actually came true. 

I don't know if I want to go into it too much.  I had an astral projection one hot July night and saw Tom's image approach me wearing a green shirt around 3:33 a.m..  I started screaming and woke up the guy in the basement.  I asked him to stay the rest of the night with me because I was freaking out.

That was the night that ruined our relationship because Mike fell asleep and pushed me off the bed in his sleep.  His boss found out and spread a ton of gossip about him beating me and throwing me into walls.  He was blackballed from his profession due to her slander.  I'll never be forgiven for that. 

The next day, I received a notice from a website that Tom had sent me a message around 4:00 that morning.

That was a scary night. 


I keep my astral projections to myself, now due to the trouble that one caused.  I've had others.  Once right before I passed out from my untreated asthma in the shower as the steam made it hard for me to breath, I saw a spirit who told me that I would be okay.  I woke up bruised a few hours later in cold bath water still running.  My ex said he heard a thud but didn't think anything of it. 

Men....


Like I'd take a three hour shower.....sigh...



Another time I ate a candy bar with a cup of coffee and had a blood sugar reaction and fell on the floor.  I could see what was going on but couldn't move or speak. I saw an blue being tell me that he was going to get help.  I know my ex moved me onto the bed and sat next to me trying to wake me up.

I try not to eat so much sugar now. 

My dreams are spooky.  I pay attention to them but don't understand what they mean or why I have them. 

If I say that I am intrigued by the supernatural and metaphysical it is because I truly don't understand those phenomena.  I've seen so much.  It's hard for me to say what is real and what is coincidence.  I truly have no concept of the mechanisms by which such things occur.

And when I think I'm done trying to understand it, something new happens...

A few years ago, I had a dream about an illicit affair with a blond haired man. From the dreams I knew what he did for a living, where he lived previously, and what his hobbies are.

When I met him, I avoided him like the plague until he fell in love with a beautiful young lady.  He still seemed to be everywhere I went.  He offered unique services that I needed, so I sucked it up. 

When I would accidentally ask him questions pertaining to things I shouldn't have known, his jaw would drop and he'd just stare at me. 

I wasn't supposed to know that he missed jet-skiing, or that he was spiritual, or that he will eventually become well known for writing a book helping men connect to their authentic self. 

I wonder why he and his love haven't bought that white car yet?  It's a nice one. 

I wonder if he's started his book. 

I'm his friend now but when we first me...

I was incredibly uncomfortable. 

The dreams were warnings.  I needed to be good so he could find the beautiful person he needed. 



I literally met another man from my dreams today. I've never seen him before, except in the midst of slumber.

It was awkward.

It seemed that this afternoon, he was everywhere I was.   Whenever I saw him, I'd turn tail and walk the other direction.

I know what we did in those dreams and it will not happen in real life.


After I ran into him the third time, I turned around and switched direction only to find a frenemy, who likes to cause trouble, walking towards me. 


I fear what I'll say to her more than I fear any man. 

So....guess who I had to run into?

The universe is going to do what the universe is going to do.

I'm going to do what I feel is best. 


I'm going to be a good girl.


I'm not going to talk to this man who owns his own plumbing business, likes to garden, and has lots and lots of girlfriends.  At least, that's what I see...it may or may not be real. 


I'm not going to attempt to find out if my dreams are accurate. 


I'm going to keep all men at bay until I get my head screwed on straight. 

I'll be this way 'til I'm 64.


So...I decided that I would separate my clothes into two piles:  hot chick disguises and blah chick disguises. 

I usually try to wear my hot chick clothes but, from now on, until I'm sure I won't be a bad girl...

I'm wearing the blah chick disguises. 

I will wear thick glasses, have my hair up in a pony tail, not straighten my curly bangs and wear as little make-up as possible.


I have a pair of huge work-out shoes that have weights inside of them and make me look like I've got man feet.  I'm going to wear those more. 

I also have a size 18 red coat that make me look obese. 

I started wearing that this evening.  No one knows who I am.

Let's see if this works...

I'm sure it will! 

No one wants a middle-aged, blotchy, frumpy old lady!!  Not even the frumpy old men!!

I should mention that I wore this outfit to the store and this young man who chats with everyone and knows all of the customers just stood there staring at me.  I think he recognized me and wondered what the heck was up. 

Maybe I need Groucho Marx glasses and an ugly temporary tattoo on my decolletage instead! 

What would be the biggest turn off in the world? 

I could stuff a TP roll in my pants....that would do the trick! 

Hmmmm...that's probably going too far. 

Love ya,

S.

The Dumb Things I Hear

When a woman running for office tells you that she hates politics after you make a couple of  political assertions with the hope of changing the subject...

it's because she doesn't want to embarrass you. 

There are a few things that I tire of hearing.  First, I dislike it when people approach me freaking out because of the false belief that the United States owes most of its gross domestic product to China.

Nope...

If the US defaults, the biggest losers will be the citizens who invested in bonds and contributed to social security.  American citizens are owed about 53% of the debt.  Then China (9.8% of the debt), Japan (9.6%), the United Kingdom (5.1%) and several smaller debts to other countries. 

No one has to worry about learning Chinese just yet.

(From http://www.cartoonmovement.com/cartoon/1708)

Another thing that I often hear is that that Julian Assange was a folk hero hated by governments. 

Nope.

Activists who are actually a viable threat usually end up dead or harassed* and that Assange seems to be protected somehow.  Even his rape charge isn't really bad.  So what?  He didn't put a sock on his worm...it's not like he threw a woman to the ground, pulled out a gun and ripped the he!! out of her..if he did then he must die a slow painful death at the hands of man-hating feminists.

How many men would agree that failing to cover ol' woody is an act of rape if the woman consented to sex?

Very few...  

Assange is a joke. 

Ask yourself...

Would any corporation be stupid enough to give an international criminal a talk show? 

Would political leaders agree to go on a talk show with an international criminal? 

NO!!! 

I believe that Assange is a disinformation agent and it is best to take what was on WikiLeaks with a grain of salt. 

It appears that I was right. 

https://www.commondreams.org/headline/2012/01/24-3

If Assange were a criminal and hated by governments world-wide, the set would have been shut-down before it got off the ground, he'd be assassinated before the first interview and no politician in his or her right mind would agree to show up.

Now, those aren't the dumbest things I've heard. 

The dumbest thing I've heard was that the constitution doesn't allow for birthright citizenship.  The fourteenth amendment exists because black people freed from the bonds of slavery needed to be protected with citizenship and birthright citizenship was the best way at the time to extend those protections.  A man approached me after a political event and went into a mini-rant.  He actually thought that the citizen clause was a myth put out there to serve Mexicans coming into this country illegally.  The guy even gave me a little Constitution booklet.  I wonder why he never read it? 

Oh, well...


Politics is show business for ugly people and, damn it, the ugliness is not only on the outside.  It's all acting.  It's all lies and if you tell the truth, you get shouted down. 

I've been there and done that. 

Love ya,

S. 

*I speak from experience.  Within one month of becoming an activist, I had a death threat from a guy who claimed to work at the city.  My last threat was in July when a city lawyer sent a promise to continue to harass me due to my ex suing the city but that they'd blame my activism for any misbehavior on their part.  That's okay.  I'm a musician.  I always carry recording equipment. 
I've gotten to the point that any threat I get is uploaded to the Internet in several places.

I'm a small threat.  I'm fairly even-keeled and if I end up dead, my family will post 380+ documents that will show just how nasty the city can be.  

They've been pretty nice since November.  I wish the hacking would stop....maybe if I find the right virus....(scheming)....maybe...could that work?  Hmmmm..

Considering what I'm dealing with from my ex and the in-laws, I would say that the threat from the city is probably fairly minor.  All threads lead back to my ex, even the abuse I got from the city: they cite him as the reason they threaten me but promise to blame it on my politics.  Now that I think about it, the threat to continue to harass me from the attorney representing the slanderous Tax Audit Supervisor was forwarded to me by my ex's lawyer.  

Interesting.

I've got an extensive Voodoo doll collection now. 

Sewing always helps ease my anxiety. 

The problem, though, is that I am always running out of pins. 

Why could that possibly be? 

Doans anyone?

Pissy Missy

I'm frustrated. 

Today I learned that if I stay here to help my ex with childcare, I will NEVER hold a job or have a career. 

He's not really supporting me.  I don't have health insurance.  I don't have a retirement account.  I don't get a stipend.  I basically live here as a nanny that works in exchange for rent. 

In late December, I found a lovely office.  The day I went in to sign the lease, my ex told me that he had a day job working twelve hours a day from 4:00 am to 4:00 p.m.   In reality, he was leaving at 3:00 a.m. and coming home around 8:00 p.m.

I've never seen his paychecks, so I don't know if these are his hours.  Yeah, I know...that is a tell-tale sign of an affair but, sadly, I don't believe that is what is going on.  I'd probably applaud him for finding someone willing to play with him and feel less guilty about leaving if he had someone on the side. 

I'm just angry that I have to rearrange my schedule at his whimsy.  I feel like such a flake to have to pull out of committments.  I'm actually stopped making them in recent weeks. 

He promised me things would stabilize enough so that I could work from 5:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. and he promised to be here with the kids.  I know I can work a few hours during the day when the kids are in school from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. but that is only when school is in session.  I want to be able to work hours that are stable year round. 

As I arranged to sign the lease in early-January, understanding that his hours would stabilize.  It wasn't long after that he told me that I needed to be here at night so he could work between 3:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m.  I didn't get any notice.  He just told me that I needed to be here. 

So, in an attempt to accommodate him, I didn't sign the lease and let the office go to someone else. 

Yesterday, he returned to day hours.  He stated that he would work from 4:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., leaving me free to work from an office at night.  I found a new office yesterday and as I prepared to sign the lease I learned...

that as of today his hours are now 4:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. and he expects me to be here at night until further notice.

I'm frustrated as heck. 

When in the world can I begin to make commitments to employers or clients? 

I can't, can I?  If I have to work my life around his and he has no clue what he's doing...I'm basically screwed. 

He is so damn fickle! 

Then it gets worse. 

The locks are broken on a prominent door at the house.  So, now I'm stuck in a house that is open to thieves.  I grew up in a ghetto, so I'm good at pushing furniture in the way of doors that don't have locks.  People can still rip off my stuff from the patio but at least I found a way to keep people from entering the main living area. 

But still, I'm here...alone...with three kids in an unlocked house all night long. 

What do I need a man for? 

Protection? 

Maybe I need to start sleeping with a Louisville Slugger. 

And, it gets even worse. 

His car died. 

I don't like him driving it anyway because he broke the seat due to his ever-expanding girth. 

But now it fails to start.  It shakes like mad.  The heater doesn't work. 

And it smells...

Guess whose car he's using?

So, now...I'm stuck in a house that is open to thieves without any real transportation to get any of us out of here should I not feel safe. 

Why can't he be more responsible?

Why can't he do basic car maintenance? 

Why can't he really help me repair the door so I don't wake up every time it sounds like it is opening?

What I need is access to my own money, so I can get a car, fix the lock and hire my own nanny. 

Crap, man....I need a wife!!!
I'm frustrated and hurt.  I don't have money for childcare and have to find a way out of the meetings and speeches I set up to do this week. 

I got another offer to give a speech at a local university.  I'm going to give that one to my competitors.

I average five referrals a week to other people in my field just because I don't know when I can schedule with them!!   At $150 per hour, that's a lot of dough.

What do I do? 

The worst part of it all is that he acts so darn innocent.  It's not his fault that he hasn't changed the oil in his car for five years.  It's not his fault that his schedule keeps changing.  It's not his fault that the lock has broken and it can't be fixed. 

That may be true -but-

It's my fault I'm still here. 

My political Christian friends did a number on me.  They made me feel guilty for trying to leave and asked me to consider staying here for the children. 

I did....I've overstayed my welcome for nearly four years!  

However, staying here for the sake of children keeps me in an impossible situation.  This man is not taking care of me.  I can't take care of myself (e.g. hold a job, save for retirement, earn money and health insurance). 

It is irresponsible to stay in this situation for the sake of the children. 

Trying to do what's best for everybody will leave me with nothing.  There has to be a limit to selflessness.  I can't be the only one trying to work as a member of a team. 

I'm hurting. 

Love,

S. 

RIAA Bull

Do you know why the RIAA shut down Megaupload? 

Megaupload paid musicians to bring in traffic. 

This has nothing to do with piracy. 

Let me tell you, there is this a-hole-ish record company that claims my recordings belong to a heavy metal band. 

If you want to visit their crappy website, you can do so here:

http://www.nuclearblast.de/en/

I've been in only one band that actually gigged and it was a country music band. 

My recordings are strictly vocal...and pertain to self-help psychology. 

So, if anything, my recordings are heavy-mental.

Still Nuclear Blast thinks that it owns my voice and they take my work down every three months or so. 

I think they removed 30 out of my 810 recordings over the past year. 

They do that so they can inflate the incidence of piracy and make it look worse than it truly is.

For months, I wrote to them demanding that they put back my files before I nailed their arses with a counter-DMCA claim.  They ignored me.

Then I told them that I was a politician wanting to do away with the DMCA. 

I didn't tell them that I would be willing to get an anti-DMCA pin to wear at all my political events.  I have big boobs...the pin would get noticed.  When I really want to get things changed, I hire a bunch of big-breasted young models to run around in t-shirts.  That works like a charm. 

Filthy sarcasm is a good attention getter... 

I got an apology and a promise that it would never happen again.  They claimed they have a robot that sends out an automatic DMCA request for any file with certain common words in the title (such as success). 

I'm trying to motivate people to find their own success.  Of course I'm going to use that word!

Then the stupid clownish record company took down four more of my files.

YIKES!!

I did have an account with the website the Department of Justice (DOJ) shut down due to concerns about piracy.  This guilty without conviction thingy is constrained by the constitution. 

Who do we need to re-educate in the Obama administration?   

I do have another account with 4shared.com and anticipate it being shut-down by the DOJ any day.  It's on the RIAA hit list. 

http://torrentfreak.com/riaa-wants-to-shutter-torrent-sites-and-more-111116/

Truth be told, within hours of receiving a DMCA form, 4shared had my stuff taken down and threatened me.  They always remove content just on the accusation that it was infringing.  I will fight to the death in order to see that company protected.  Rest assured, I have shared this with every politician I know. 

And yes, fight to the death is not an exaggeration...I will.  I'm a redhead.

4shared is deleting files today, so I wonder if my blog readers, clients and fans are going to be unable to access their files all because some idiotic group of politician bribing aholes want to be little pills. 

If you want to sign a petition to get Obama to investigate former Senator Chris Dodd for bribing politicians to get them to vote for SOPA/PIPA, you can do so here:

https://wwws.whitehouse.gov/petitions#!/petition/investigate-chris-dodd-and-mpaa-bribery-after-he-publicly-admited-bribing-politicans-pass/DffX0YQv

That arrogant pin-head threatened to stop giving money to people who won't let him buy their vote.

-And-

Another company I had an account with will no longer offer its services to people in the US.

http://www.zdnet.com/blog/btl/fileserve-shutters-in-light-of-file-sharing-site-crackdown/67739

So, if I want to continue to bring my services to the public for free, to give it to the people who would get scammed by jerks that don't know what they are doing, or those who can't afford real information...I'm going to have to rent a server. 

I can't afford to do that and give away my inventory. 

Stupid government. 

Still, I wonder...

Is the RIAA trying to claim pirating is a big deal to protect the artists? 

Or are they doing that so they can shut down those websites that actually allow artists to make a dime or two? 

I betcha that is what they are after...choking off alternative income streams for musicians. 

What do you think? 

Those of us who have dabbled in the industry know that the music companies are the real thieves. 

Yes, my work has been stolen, repackaged and resold.  I've been lucky, though, the idiots that do that tend to keep my name on the files.  When they do that, I consider it advertising.  When they take my name off of the files, which I have suspected on a couple of occasions, they can't sell it. 

Do you know why?  Because my name is the branding.  I am the product. 

Having a moronic Internet marketer steal my stuff and sell it on EBay as a $5.00 compilation is far less of a hassle than having a music company rip my work off the web because I put a common word in the file...success...oooh, Nuclear Blast USA owns my freaky blog now.

Success...success...success...


Go ahead, make my day.  File that false DMCA take down notice now and I'll ship it off to all the papers I can.

No music company can claim copyright on a single word.  Sorry.  It doesn't work that way.  Maybe that Nuclear Blast blew out the CEO's brains...cuz he is failing to think clearly.  He ought to get control of the people who represent his company.

From my point of view, after being victimized time and time again by false DMCA claims, the pirating issue is not as bad as they are painting it out to be. 


Truth be told, I really dislike having my clients frustrated because they can't download a promised file because I put the word "success" in the title.

Greedy lil' porkers...aren't music executives just annoying as heck? 

No matter who you are or what you've done, if you're not a music exec., you're a-okay  in my book. 


Love ya,

S.

Dreaming of Stomping Idiots

Quote of the day:

Explaining why he put forward a bill that would ban transgender people from using dressing rooms and restrooms that do not match the gender on their birth certificates, State Rep. Richard Floyd (R) was quoted recently as threatening to “stomp a mudhole” in anybody who might be wearing the clothing of the opposite sex if they came anywhere near his family.

Wanna know why I'm mad? 

Read about it here: http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2012/01/13/tenn-republican-senator-threatens-to-stomp-a-mudhole-in-transgender-people/

Man, oh man...

how I fantasize about seducing sick politicians and stomping them into mud holes. 

Only the sick ones...

We have an idiotic, potentially in the closet, Congressman Floyd from Tennessee who likes to threaten to kick gay young men down into the mud and stomp on them.  Actually, if you read his quote and look at it from a psychoanalytic perspective, the man appears to have gay fantasies. 

I mean he wants to "stomp a mudhole" into gay men. 

What does he mean by mud?  He's not fooling anyone. 

He wants to ram something into into a man until mud comes out from a hole? 

Using what tool? 

Huh? 

He just wants to make it feel so good all that Santorum leaks out, eh? 

This man is in the closet. 

Only a back @ss Congressman with homophobic tendencies, would threaten to harm a male that threatens his masculinity.

I wonder if "Stomping Dick Floyd" would make a good rock song? 

Maybe if I just call it Dick. 

I'm a better musician than I am a politician.  It strikes me that I could do a good job with a song and it takes off, maybe it would hurt is political career as much as the gay rights activists have destroyed Santorum. 

If another musician wants to run with the idea, so much the better.  Let's take out the pig.  Maybe someone should have a "Stomping Dick Floyd" Art Contest...we could have paintings, music, songs, poetry and really take over the Google rankings!!

Let me see if I can find someone less obnoxious to run with the idea. 

Perhaps that is my calling.  Get rid of those that destroy the downtrodden. 

Love ya,

S.

Freeze Frame

(The video....currently has a commercial for Ron Paul.  As much as I respect him and value many of his contributions to our country, Paul is NOT a Libertarian.  He is sexist.  I just wanted to clear that up with people who confuse his values with mine.  My candidate will be Gary Johnson.)

So...

I'm getting made fun of because I went public with the notion that red light cameras are unfair because they can't capture everything.  They are not human and cannot see every circumstance from every angle, like a living, breathing police officer can. 

By the time people get tickets for a red light camera offence, they forget the circumstances.  If a police officer issues a ticket the moment that the offense happens, drivers can usually remember why they did what they did.  The shock of the situation would get 90% of the people telling the truth; they'll say if they were in a hurry, or trying not to hit a child in the gutter, or afraid of getting rear ended by the road-raging fool behind them.  Ten percent of the people will lie (the psychopaths) simply because that's what they do. 

I may consider revising the post to talk about B.F. Skinner and the notion of punishment as a deterrent to driving offenses.  In short, unfair punishment ONLY results in avoidance...meaning people will avoid the shopping malls in the center of the placement of all those red-light cameras.  This means that our dear city is losing not only sales tax revenue -but- head tax revenue as eventually jobs will be lost because sales are down. 

No one ever prints that. 

I could also talk about studies which show that people have to be flexible while driving in order to increase safety.  Hard and fast nonsensical rules which exist for revenue collection cause mortality rates to spike.  The truth of the matter is that drivers will do their best to stay safe, even if it means breaking a law.  For example, moving into oncoming traffic to avoid hitting a truck that has crossed into their lane -or- stopping in the middle of the road so little unsupervised kids can cross safely.  Both of these have happened to me this week!  I broke the law because if I didn't, some stupid idiot would probably be injured or worse. 

If anyone has any doubt that the camera lies, I was once a department store model. 

I have never been pretty - if you look at my family photos,  I AM the ugly duckling. 

Models are chosen because of the way the light hits the bone structure. 

Cameras miss my acne scars, they miss my hyper-pigmentation, and if I sit just the right way I look thin (even though as of today, I am about 20 pounds overweight). 

Any model can tell you that cameras lie. 

Yes, people do recognize me from my photos because of my auburn hair but they tell me that I look nothing like I do in the pictures.  Do you know why that is? 

Cameras only capture the photographer's version of reality.

If the city and the company behind the cameras wants to issue tickets, you'll have to deal with their version of reality and pay through the nose. 

Love ya,

S.

Femme Fatale

God only knows how many men I've put on the government watch list over the past three years*!

Follow me at your peril.

I'm on this journey because some silly city employee extorted hundreds of dollars from my ex and had the assistant city attorney call me to gloat about it while asking

"[w]hat are you going to do about it?"

Never, ever do that to a redhead.....ever....

When I started to ask for my money, they started to slander and harass me...publicly. 

Hmmm..I wonder if I can file a complaint against the lawyer on the Career Service Commission as he has no clue what he is doing.  The feds have told me that what the city is doing is illegal.  This @ss is the jerk giving the go ahead for extorting the city employees with $500 fines...all I need to do is get someone brave enough to share their story with me. 

I have a website sharing my story but it is hacked daily.  I've taken it down until I can afford to hire an expert in Joomla.

Don't mess with a redhead. 

The only reason I didn't take my party up on the offer to run me for congress is because I've got to settle the score with the city attorney the the HR office.  The Democrats are going to love me when I'm through, apparently my talking about workplace rights is a big turn on for some of them.   I did a lot of this when I ran for mayor last year and they'd call me me and show their support. 

Government entities have got to follow the same rules they make for everyone else.  It is only fair, why should governments dabbling in private sector enterprises be given an advantage in the marketplace.  US Case law (e.g. the Supreme Court) shows a history of government entities being slapped down for breaking workplace laws.   

Did I ever tell you that after I gave up my music career, I studied law for a time but realized I couldn't live my life on the edge of daily drama.

Yet, I find myself here. 

The city is so lucky they've got my ex too scared to file a formal complaint with the feds.  I tried and got shot down because my story is hearsay (even with evidence in hand and proof they stole MY money).  One of these days, a dumb city supervisor will extort money from a red-headed employee, that person will contact me and we will enact the plan.  I even have a lawyer set aside to do a class action. 

Behave now and I'll go away....maybe. 

Love,

S. 

Move it!

You move like Jagger?

Okay...

At my age,

I just want someone that moves.

Love ya,

S.

Angries

I'm still averaging between two to four hours of sleep a night. 

I'm in pain and a little angry.

I joined an online support group for women stuck in dead sexless marriages to 500 pound men. 

I can't log in anymore.  The more other people bitch, the more my attention is focused on the painful aspects of my life and the more of the crap I see. 

It was helpful, though. 

I thought I was the only person who couldn't bear to take care of her own business.  It makes me cry. 


I thought, as a hypnotist, all I had to do was hypnotize myself to get a big 'o'.  It worked when he was 350 pounds and things weren't fun....maybe I could do it all alone. 

So...I triggered the big 'o' and immediately started to cry because I felt lonely.  It is a feeling that is hard to explain but it is far worse than waking up alone in the winter.  I found it easier just to drink a shot of vodka than to let myself feel anything. 

This is why I choose celibacy. 

Apparently that is quite common for women whose guys won't even try, even if they love the man. 

It hit me last night.

He stopped trying eleven years ago. 

That's why he got fat.

That's why he stopped talking to me.

That's why we sleep apart.
That's why he stopped planning for our financial future. 

That's why he complains when I try to hold a real job.

He doesn't care.

I thought he wanted a divorce but now he doesn't.   He's been promising to help me fund one since '08 but his promises are falling flat.  He now wants me to stay. 

He doesn't want a real relationship with me.  He wants a nanny. 


If I stay, I will never be warm in the middle of the night.  I will never find anyone to meet my needs.  Can I really do that to myself?  Can I deny who I am just so a guy can have on demand daycare?


So, I tried talking to him today and he did the shrugging his shoulders thing. 

Why am I putting up with this? 

I don't know if I dare go into the socio-political-economic forces that put women into these situations or if I should just single one moron out for a bitch fest. 

Let me single someone out!

I'm singling out Newt Gingrich.  Newt...that's a good name for a slimy reptile.  His last name works, too!  If you say it fast enough, it comes out Grinch!  He's a greedy, slimy, disgusting, hypocritical little man!

This is why Gingrich is what is wrong with Conservative America...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/marianne-gingrich-newts-ex-wife-says-he-wanted-open-marriage/2012/01/19/gIQAJzgwAQ_story.html


Seriously...

Newt Gingrich parades around in his cloak of family values.  He believes children need two parents, a husband who works a full-time job and a pregnant and barefoot servant at home.

Gingrich does not believe in equal pay because women shouldn't work - they should stay home with their kids and be good little uncompensated slaves.  If we paid women for the work they do, they wouldn't want to stay home and cater to the public school system!  They wouldn't volunteer!  We need to treat them as a permanent underclass of reserve workers, so we can threaten the men should they form unions.  Yep, that is the real reason women are discriminated against, we are the reserve workforce necessary to maintain the status quo of capitalism!

What if the husband dies or leaves?  Too bad for the stay-at-home slave for now she must work outside of the home!  Yeppers! 

What if she doesn't have skills or the jobs aren't available?

Well...she goes into workfare and works 30 hours a week for the meager benefits the government provides which will give her a net wage of about $1 per hour (maybe more if she has several children).  Will these jobs help her find work?  NO!  These jobs are the same ones she was doing for free when she was a stay-at-home mom.  The problem, this time, is they will take time away from any educational or professional opportunities that come her way.

The next time I see my state reps, I'm going to ask why they don't pay workfare people minimum wage.  That would be the best way to help them off welfare -and- stop taking jobs away from high school graduates.  Workfare and prison labor are stealing jobs from our economy and driving down wages for everyone else. 

And this little troll wants to do the same thing to orphans.  Yep, little girls like me were supposed to go into homes like the one in 'Boystown'.  Gingrich envisioned sweatshops where little orphans would slave away and eat at the wages of union workers.  Sweetie - orphans who aren't cunning have men go downtown for in exchange for a place to stay: Girls and boys found themselves used sexually in exchange for basic survival tools like a bed or a meal.  I spent my teenage years taking in such kids.  Social services...they won't help.  They are a joke.  If I had a nickel for every freakin' social worker that ignored me, I'd run for Congress.  .

One idiotic social worker sent a 14 year old girl back home to her parents in a city two hours away.    She ran away because her father was molesting her.  Rather than let her continue to sleep with men who had lord knows what, she stayed with me before the social workers sent her back home.  She committed suicide six months later.  The government doesn't care. 

Why am I so hard on Gingrich?  Because he's one of those f*ckers

Think about it...he marries someone, has kids with her, starts sleeping around and leaves her for another woman. 

What does he need that law to pass to make it harder for him to leave his third wife?  Is he worried he's going to continue to be an ass? 

NO...that would assume he has compassion.  He clearly doesn't.
He's proof that women should never give up their careers to make homes for men.  There is no point in making the investment, men will squander it and leave the woman and her children fighting to survive.   The government won't be there for you. 

In the end, we are on our own. 



When the pain of staying outweighs the pain of leaving - we leave.

For me right now, the pain is unbearable.

Love,

S.

Edit:  I figured out what's going on.  It took an older lady to tie it together for me. 

He is an Adult Child of an Alcoholic (ACOA).  When his parents starting meddling, he freaked out and became ultra controlling.  In fact, anything his parents wanted - they got - usually from me and usually to keep the peace within my own household.

That explains all of those crazy expectations my in-laws had of me: preparing holiday dinners but not being invited to join the festivities, cleaning their homes, babysitting their nieces, nephews, and grandchildren, and now they have an expectation that I will provide elder care. 

His parents never gave him time and attention.  They were never there for him, thus, it appears that he expects me to fill in the emptiness caused by his upbringing.  I have to be here at all costs, all of the time.  I have to cater to his every whim.  I cannot get my own needs met - or else he rages. 

I guess this is common. 

He did go to ACOA meetings, but his boss at the city found out and thought they were meetings for abusers (as per info given to me by members of the staff) and started to slander my ex and myself.  She claimed he beat me.

For 17 of the 20 years we've been together, the abuse has been financial and emotional.  He has come close to hitting me.  Recently, it has come to blows but I grew up homeless and can fight back.  It didn't get violent until after his former boss blamed me for getting my ex fired (due to my master's degree and what not...I still don't get my connection there).  Because of her slander, he quit the meetings and has been a more difficult to live with.  I should sue the city the next time someone says something to me about it - that'll teach them to support this type of crap.  I have a year from the last time someone mentions the slander to file a lawsuit.  It's ongoing. 

It probably doesn't help to know that his bosses were alcoholics, too.  I have no clue what that triggered.

The weight gain is due to his fear of intimacy. 

The lying is due to his fear of telling me the truth: rather he says what he thinks I need to hear in order to feel safe.  His parents would beat him if he didn't say what they needed to hear.

The ambivalence about our relationship is common.  People who are ACOAs often leave relationships and return, or they claim to want the relationship and then waffle.  I've been going through this our entire relationship.  The first time he left me was in '93, over something his sister said but I didn't think too much of it at the time. 

The frequent changes in his schedule, which make it hard for me to do anything, is due to the rule changes he grew up with.  There was no consistency in his home.

It happened again yesterday.  I was scheduled to give a speech tonight -but- at the last moment I was told that I needed to stay here to watch the kids because his work schedule changed.  No matter what I do...it gets messed up.  I don't feel like I can escape. 

There's more...but I really can't stay.  It's that feeling in the middle of the night that hurts more than anything in the world.  The realization that I am worth nothing and that all of my efforts here are futile.  It is the realization that if I stay here, I will never find anyone who will get close.  I will never find comfort, warmth or companionship.  I fear that feeling more than I fear anything else. 

When I first began giving speeches, I told myself that it was easier to get booed by a crowd of 500 people than it was to cry on my pillow all night long. 

It is gut wrenching.  I'd rather be living in my broken down mini-van.

That is the thought that will force me to run back to my divorce lawyer.  I just need $3000 more.

The dumbest thing I ever did was let him come back. The second dumbest thing I did was give up my practice to help him with the kids.


I thought we could work together for the sake of the kids, as it is the most practical approach given the current financial crisis.  I was wrong. 

I can't deal with the pain. 

Basically, he'll never change unless he gets help.  I can't wait around for him to grow up. 

If I told you how I'm living, you'd be shocked.

I'm pretty angry with myself.  Before we married, I had a ton of therapy but didn't request the same from him.  I still didn't want to get married and I still didn't want to have kids.  I did the dumbest thing imaginable.  I had myself hypnotized by a licensed therapist to get over it! 

That was dumb...I should have trusted my instincts.


I'll pray for answers.  I overstayed my welcome because I feel sorry for him.  I know it's stupid.  I realize now that I probably shouldn't be making him a priority anymore until he makes me one. 

I am not my happy self.  I am getting bitter and angry.  I wish I could find a way to leave.  It's not selfish...it's survival. 


Love ya,

S.