I won something...!

This page is for my confessions, so here's a big one;
I am a really bad blogger. Like, fucking horrible. I'll get struck with a spate of inspiration and then I'll get back to my oh-so-chronic illness and lose the ability to use words right, or hit a depression patch and end up not feeling up to doing jack shit beyond what absolutely *has* to be done, and I'll forget this place  even exists. (This is not true, I always remember it's here, I just don't want to deal with this part of myself....)
That Mad Mommy
So... Moving right along, a while back, one of my favorite bloggers, That Mad Mommy held a contest and I'll be real here, I never expect to win anything, but in a shocking twist, I won the cutest makeup set that had some pieces that I've never gotten around to using even with the whole contouring craze. (Yes, I used the word craze, I'm basically an old lady in a 35 year old's body with pink hair, so, whatev.)
Anyway... I finally had a reason to apply some makeup today, doesn't happen often with my hemoglobin count and the lack of activity that comes with that, but, miracles some times happen and I applied everything in the set. Didn't even have to look up a tutorial because it came with instructions, thank the gods!

OhMyFuckingGods, it made me look super fucking cute y'all! Like it really is shocking what a little thing I thought to be a trend can actually do, but safe to say, I have been convinced of the insane benefits of a tiny bit more makeup than just the eyeliner that I've had as my trademark look for the past 20 years.... Isadora makes a great product and I can't thank That Mad Mommy enough for turning me onto it...!

You want it darker, we kill the flame.

My emotions have been dispermitted. Stifled and curtailed.
The backstory: My husband and I run a gaming crew. We have for years, it's quite large and varied and not long ago, we realized that we had some players who were local to us, so we organized a bit of a get together.
A fairly small thing, as one of the attendees was just about as a big a sufferer of social anxiety as I am, so really just her and then another player, her boyfriend who was also in the crew and her seven year old.
It was a really small thing, just some grilling and some beer, the usual cast of characters when we grill...
The chick with the boyfriend and the kid ended up having an insane backstory with my husband, which is definitely a story for another day, like an already writing it in another tab type of story for another day.
This story is about the other chick. The one I actually became friends with... Like, legit super close friends.
Until one day we weren't. I don't know what happened exactly, she didn't say anything, she just stopped coming by, she unfriended me on Facebook, stopped replying to my messages, etc...
I'd been Friend Ghosted.
Months passed and I received a random friend request and message from her. She didn't want to get into any of the why of it, she just wanted to pick back up and pretend that nothing happened. Which, I guess some people might be fine with, but I was a bit too hurt from it all. And I told her. Her response was along the lines of "oh pity me, I'll just go kill myself since you didn't just take me back, no questions aaked"........
I know this type of response. Hell, I lived with this type of response for 12 years....
To make someone feel guilty over having emotions us straight the fuck up emotional blackmail. And if I won't put up with it in a marriage, why the hell would I put up with a friendship?
So, I told her of my issue with this style of behavior and that we should just part ways.
Which is what I thought happened until I recently found out she's been shit talking my entire crew over the fact. She's found herself some little friends and the three of them spread lascivious lies about my husband and myself. They attempt to say lots of shit about him that he is not and say even worse about me..
I didn't have a normal childhood having gone to private schools who actually did a really solid job of keeping bullying out of my life, but I think this is what playground bullying felt like. And gotta say, it fucking sucks.
That said, we're not kids and this isn't a playground. This is the real fucking world where real fucking negotiations have been taking place in efforts to get our players sponsored...
And now, all because Copper Top thinks I shouldn't be able to feel hurt by her actions, I'm now being intentionally hurt by lies being told to me night after night about things my husband would never do... And the players that he would never do them with...
I'm mad.
And I feel I should be able to be. This is my livelihood and my life that's being simultaneously fucked with...
And for what? Because some chick I thought I was friends with completely ghosted on me and now I've been told by her that I'm not allowed to be hurt by it?
Because she's sick?
Bitch, I'm sick too.
But I don't run around telling people lies cos it makes me feel better. Grow the fuck up Jamie. And Sarah. And Provolone. Be fucking adults about this shit. I mean, really, isn't there enough shit given to girls that game? Must we add to it?


I'm just so mad lately. And I hate it. I hate me like this but I don't know how else to be.

I feel like I'm either fighting crying or fighting screaming and there is no in between.

And hell, I even feel bad for all the rage I feel that I want to direct at the SIL, when yeah, she definitely deserves quite a bit of it, but I feel like maybe I'm looking at it wrong and the things she does that piss me off only piss me off because I'm completely incapable of sharing my house with another woman.

I don't fucking know anymore..

I'm just mad and I'm damn certain my health is the one that's taking the most damage from it....

How do you fix a fast food junkie?

“If we pay someone else to make it, it must be better, righ...?”

Wrong. Just so very absolutely, unceasingly wrong.

But not for the reason you may think.

I used to be a fast food junkie. Restaurant junkie. Like, seriously, any way that I could get dinner without having to spend my small amounts of free-time after work cooking dinner for myself and an ex-husband that refused to cook while simultaneously refusing to work. It felt worth it to me to shell out a bit of money for a meal that was at the very least acceptable, warm and most importantly free of me having to be the one to cook it.

On the health side, it was an abysmal choice. Daily intake of high calorie foods that honestly didn’t really taste like much of anything since they all came from the same fryer with EVERYTHING. 

(Here is where I stop for a second to clarify: I’m not opposed to massive amounts of calories. Quite the opposite, actually. I LOVE lots of calories. Big fan.)

And monetarily, it annoyed the everlovingshit out of me. I tried to offset my hatred by working through the math of not buying groceries in the traditional sense. Bought a few things here and there but I was never a real stock-the-entire-fridge type person back in those days. 

Shopping took time. Cooking took time. Working took time. And based on how much time I was giving to the last one, the other two didn’t seem worthwhile to me. 

Fast forward to now: I’m a stay at home mom to The Teenager. And I don’t know how much you know about teenagers on the spectrum, but it’s kind of my whole life. The caveat to that is that I do have the ability to cook food, the knowledge of how to do so in a tasty manner and the more or less ability to do so for a much more reasonable price than eating out costs. 

Would we like to eat out more, I suppose there are times, yes, but on the whole, not really. We do pizza maybe once a month, but, mostly I just cook. 

And I don’t mind it, not really. I have a list of meals that the three of us agree on and are... Not healthy, per se, but definitely heavy on nutrients, at least. And the system was great. Damn near perfect, even....

Until the SIL moved in, desperate for a place to stay as her family didn’t want to deal with her living with them and not contributing in any way, shape or form. 

She does not cook. Like, not at all. The few times she’s made a show of “getting ready to cook” she’s pulled out my good pans, and... well... said things that led me to fear for their safety.

She does not clean. Took seven months to get her to finally acquiesce to doing dishes once a week, which led to them having to be re-done by me the second she’s finished. And the one time she tried to clean the kitchen floor, she got down on her hands and knees and tried to use my Swiffer from that angle. Based on how quickly I needed the floors to be done that day, I told her to get the fuck out of my kitchen after she spent nearly forty minutes cleaning a whole square foot worth of floor.

This grown ass woman is just completely incapable or unwilling of contributing... And she has thrown out food situation for a complete loop. Initially when she moved in, I asked if she had any allergies or preferences. She gave me one allergen and said she would eat anything. 

Lies. Lies. Lies. 

Rice is too filling. (That’s not a thing. Ffs.)
Pasta bakes are too spicy. (Fuck off with that shit, but fine.)
My tacos are too spicy. (There is like a zero level heat factor in my tacos.)
I overcook pasta. (That’s cos I cook to Yhe Teenagers preferences, the rest of us have to deal with it, so do you.)
My stew is too bland. (Used to be spicy til she complained about that.)
She hates any type of potatoes that aren’t home fries from a deli. (Are you kidding me with this shit?)
Sandwiches are too boring. (Yeah. Duh. They’re fucking sandwiches.)
My grilled cheese is too “pan-fried”. (What the actual fuck?)
Casseroles aren’t imaginative. (No one ever said they were.)
Brisket is too meaty. (What are we even doing here?)

What does she want to eat? Good question. McDonald’s. KFC. Pizza and wings. Taco Bell. Diner food. Wendy’s. Pretty much anything that wasn’t cooked in my kitchen. 

Oh, and seeing as how she has no job, we’re the ones who hear incessant bitching about how we should get fast food more. Or go out to a restaurant. Or order pizza non-stop.

And how we should pay for it.

Which... no. And not just no, but, fuck no.

So, we don’t and she sulks more than our actual child, our dog, and our cat combined. I kid you fucking not.

How do you fix a fast food junkie? 

Asking for a friend. A friend who is me.

Tree fatality.

Gods, I love this view. 

Except for that it kind of makes me sad now.

I’m from Texas and a tornado isn’t exactly something I’m completely in the dark about how to deal with, but it’s also a fear I truly thought I’d put behind me. New York isn’t exactly where one thinks a tornado is likely to appear. Ever. In fact, most of the people in my sleepy little lakehouse community have never seen one here nor would they ever expect to...

And yet, here we are... Seven months ago, almost to this very day, a series of three tornados struck my neighborhood. They were all quick and vicious, as tornados often are, complete with the freight train sound that confused the hell out of all of my neighbors. Not me, though, I knew the sound the second I heard it, and with it came every memory of every tornado I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. And born of it was the return of every bit of fear and anxiety that I’ve ever associated with them.

I’ve tried very hard to overcome that in the past few months now. I know this weather pattern was a rarity, and while it’s still possible for it to happen again thanks to the miracle of climate change, it’s not a fear I need to live with every time it starts raining like I used to fear in Fort Worth.

All of that said, it’s really difficult to move past it and lose the fear when every time I leave my house, I’m met with the sight of a giant stump that my neighbors are refusing to remove.

Actually, I suppose it’s not quite fair to say they’re refusing to remove it, they want us to pay to have it removed. Despite the fact that it’s not our tree, it didn’t fall into our yard, and the costs already on us for repairing and replacing our entire electric line that it dragged with it on the way down, plus the box that was pulled down in its wake as well.

To be honest, it didn’t even occur to us to tell them that they should be responsible for the roughly $2000 that we paid to restore electric service to our house even though according to the letter of the law, they should be responsible for it as it was their tree, in their yard that pulled it down. This was a natural disaster and it is what it is, we covered the cost rather than delay and go on not having power after our entire block had already been restored.

Yet, when the tables are turned, they now want us to pay to have it removed or they’re just going to leave it there forever. They pulled it upright, which I suppose is better than it continuing to be uprooted on its side where my neighbor was convinced that burning it whole would be the best disposal option. (And would likely dispose of the entire block in the ensuing blaze.)

So, every time I walk out of my house, I’ll be met with a reminder of this horrible storm that cost our family so much. This horrible storm that cost us our vehicle that my stepson and I desperately needed to get to our various medical appointments. This horrible storm that leaves me waking up in a sweat and panic every time it starts raining in the middle of the night.

And our neighbors? They get to be reminded of how they’re “sticking it to us” in the own minds every time they walk outside by not dealing with their own fiscal responsibilities of home ownership and crossing their fingers that we’ll just write a check to do it for them...

They have three cars, an intact house, and received a big fat insurance check to cover their shit. We have no car, a house that required close to 28k in repairs and an insurance check that only covered the costs of the barebones structural damage and a new roof.... I can’t even understand why they’re thinking it’s right to ask us to pay for their stump removal.

Can you break the broken...?

This day has tried to break me. 

And I need you to know upfront that many days have tried to break me and failed. This isn’t a new experience to me. But, it’s definitely done its damndest and has pretty much come closer than any of it’s determined relatives of days past. 

I can’t get specific, not without telling someone else’s story, at least, but essentially, I had to defend and protect my own family in order to deal with someone else’s bullshit words. 

I need to be clear on this, if I did something wrong, I will forever and always own up and take my lumps. If a member of my family does something wrong, I will encourage, (not so gently), that they also own up and take their lumps. It’s just how I was raised. And, in all honesty, even when it sucks tremendously to own up to something, and it hurts to even make eye contact when doing so, I still believe it’s absolutely worth it. 

In the same vein, though, I expect to be believed when I explain, (calmly or not), that any accusation against me or those I love is patently false. I understand why people sometimes have a very hard time with that, especially given the overwhelming train of thought that all people lie, but fuck all, it’s where I am with all of this. 

I said all that to say this, I defended a member of my family that I love dearly a week ago. And with good cause as the accusation laid at their feet was one I know to be absolutely untrue. And even if I were to possibly doubt the innocence in this, I was also present to see that what was said was not something that happened. My thoughts circled around the (assumed) knowledge I have that guilt has to be proven, but that belief has now been shaken. 

At my very core and in my heart of hearts, I no longer trust the system that has clearly led me to a false sense of comfort. To a place where right and wrong are different and obvious at the end of the day.

Justice clearly isn’t for those who deserve it....

Be careful, that Angel might be a con man. #SPNFamily

I’m an extremely naive person. It’s a trait that I’ve been told is endearing and something I should try to actively maintain by some, but in my mind, it just makes me feel like a sucker. A lot. To the point that every time April Fools Day comes around I sequester myself for 24 hours. I’ve started to doubt every single person and every single thing because my instincts can never seem to point out what I should be second guessing or who I should be casting aspersions on...

To put it quite simply, since I can’t tell what I should doubt, I just remind myself to doubt every. damn. thing.

Recently, though, something happened that I convinced myself to not doubt. Actually, that’s not even an accurate statement...

I received a message on Facebook from the actor Misha Collins.

I had no reason to expect a message from him, but that fact in and of itself didn’t mean that I would be completely surprised to get a random message from a celebrity. It’s happened before and not just once. Be it messages on twitter, random 6am voicemails, job offers for my brief foray into being a nanny in LA, and the like. That said, with all of the digital insanity I’ve been dealing with for the past two years thanks to my cyber stalker, I’ve started to look at everything as a potential ruse and this message was no different. For the first few days after receiving the initial message, I gave every single response a bit of side eye. I responded in short sentences. I tried to bury any potential excitement deep down and just answer the fairly innocent queries.

Nothing was untoward about the communique, all above board and not distressing in any sense.

After a few days of responding back and forth, I brought my concerns about this having something to do with my cyber stalker to my husband. After all, he is much more familiar with this person and their manipulative methods. He read over the messages and after not picking up on any familiar syntax, said that I didn’t have anything to worry about and to just go ahead an answer the last question I’d been sent...

The conversation had gone down the path of discussing autographed items and whether or not I’d ever been to a Supernatural Convention. I haven’t and I’d answered that fairly truthfully, it’s not the type of thing that ever fit into my budget as a freelance writer, same goes for anything autographed. (There’s a reason I had to take on additional work as a nanny and personal assistant when I lived in LA, writing pays... shit.)

He responded with a request for my address to send me an autograph, and after the conversation with my husband about whether or not I should be concerned, I obliged.

Not long ago, I noticed an alert that one of my contacts had changed their Facebook information. It was the person who was contacting me as Misha. The name it had been changed to, Anthony Ruffin, seemed to not exist as the person in the new photo either.

I will probably never know exactly who it was that seemed to want my address so badly. I know my terribly violent ex has had my new address for years, so he’s not a concern. My cyber stalker probably had it well before now, too.

I don’t know why they did this and I doubt I ever will, but it’s certainly left an indelible mark on my nature. I’m definitely going back to reminding myself to question everything.

Maybe I should get it tattooed on my forearm?

I won something...!

This page is for my confessions, so here's a big one; I am a really bad blogger. Like, fucking horrible. I'll get struck with a spa...