just breathe.

starting over. its a blessing and a curse. breath taking and suffocating. sometimes i wonder if i'm doing this damn thing right. where's the guidebook? two steps forwards, five steps back. i outlived the hell that sorry ass son of a bitch put me through to get to this point? why am i having such a hard time now? hell, this shit should be easy. that used to be me. i used to be the queen of starting over. it used to be so easy. (coincidentally, so was i.) i know what it is that i want, but honestly, i'm so damn jaded that... i don't know. i just need to catch my breath.

on with the show.

its friday night, i'm wide assed awake, theres a girl in my bed with my two furbabies sleeping, a dr pepper by my side and here i sit frumpy as can be. alas, its a 7 year old girl my mom is babysitting and i have to a) sleep on the opposite end of the bed (but with this sprawling spider bed hog, thats not an option) or b) sleep in my sister's room. eh. joy. looking on the bright side, however, my sister did manage to perform a miracle tonight, though. i insisted she bring home a dr pepper for me (as she was out and about on the town) and she shot me down saying she wasn't in her car. after some good old fashioned sisterly brawling, a miracle ensued: she dropped off a dr pepper at my mama's doorstep like a redheaded stepchild on the front steps of a convent in the dead of night. the vatican would laugh if i were to approach them, claiming a true miracle happened: a thoughtful teenager. maybe i could claim mother theresa's characture on my dr pepper bottle? or that mother theresa's holy spirit engulfed my sister's soul, transforming her into a thoughtful teenager? who am i to question such miracles? on with the show!!

violet skies.

cheryl & i went to atlanta this weekend to see a very sordid affair. it got canceled due to snow but we met everybody at an elite hotel bar. everybody was so down to earth, it was unreal. i got the inside scoops on certain hollywood elites that were fascinating. leave it to me to have a clutz moment. i wore three inch fuck me pumps in a snow and ice covered atlanta and didnt slip. i get to cheryl's house and slip barefooted on a sock and landed on my knee. only me, i tell ya.


i got my truck back, for which i'm grateful and relieved. now i won't be trapped at home any longer. this coming tuesday i may have a possible run-in with my dad and step mom's daughter. we were both invited to a poetry night at a local coffee house. i'm a confirmed guest, she a maybe guest. i don't want any shit. no fake conversation, no nothing. i wanna enjoy my night with my friends and my cousin.

this week is vintage picture week on facebook. i'll leave yall with my vintage picture. its the first time i met reba.

goodbye, 09.

timing. what a funny, funny bitch. she's perfect. perfectly annoying. and oh.em.gee. sarcasticly cynical in every way possible. she has slutty tendencies by screwin you every now and then. (bitch takes the $20 off ya night stand, too.) she does have a secret though,... she's a secret user. she's a profuse sweater with a ginormous b.o. problem. she's just so damn nit-picky about being exactly perfect. if you're late, you sweat. if you're early, you sweat. i'mma kick a bitch in her taco.

me and time haven't seen eye to eye much this year. this year we're both on crazy meds though. maybe we can get along and play nicely this coming year. ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes... bitch gonna fall down when i kick her in the taco.

here's to a new year.

my left tit itches.

today marks the anniversary of their deaths. two years, i think. it still seems unbelievable that he's dead. i wonder how long it'll be before he's gone. i let my mom read my story that i began. maybe i'll share some of it with yall. if yall have any interest, that is.

this being single shit sucks fat dick. seriously. but my singledom has given me a greater appreciation for my family this holiday season. especially given the bad news we received. its hard to muster compassion for an embodiment of nastiness, even when you know you need to. i feel better in knowing that i am not alone in feeling that though.

i'm uber looking forward to my mini vacation with cheryl to atlanta to see del shores and his husband on their sordid lives tour.

my butt STiLL itches.

OMFG. if i could get a tattoo again, i know what i'd be getting:

http://ugliesttattoos.com/2009/11/19/funny-tattoos-you-would-see-the-biggest-gift-would-be-from-me/

my butt itches.

things have been going much better lately. "Right back in my hometown, with my ...family, There’s old friends and new friends, and even a bear..." okay maybe not a bear, but still, it is nice to reconnect with old friends and new friends galore. i have to admit, though, i do feel guilty for going out and socializing so much when cheryl is sitting home. i know that we are broken up, and that it shouldn't matter but damnit, it just feels weird going through my days and weeks without her there day to day. i went back for a weekend with her. we had a blast but it was bittersweet. the dogs acted as if no time or routine had ever changed.

i'm having fun with my friends and family. so thats good. i went to a new doctor here at home and had a horrifical experience. first of all, mind you that i am 27 years old. the new doctor, Dr C, was who i was supposed to have seen and with whom my appointment was made. but the group he's in got it messed up and had me see Dr J. concerned about my anxiety, i spoke with him about my medication. i don't have many options there because of my addictions. he literally got in my face and lectured me on how to manage it. then said he wasn't the doctor who put me on the med i am on, so he couldn't take me off of it.

i take a deep breath and tell this fucker that i am managing my anxiety in the non-medication ways that he "suggested" and informed him that the doctor who placed me on the med for the anxiety is no longer my doctor because i'm no longer an inpatient there anymore. he sticks to his guns, refusing to change my medication. (what the hell is a general practice doctor for, then?!) then he wants to listen to my heart since i am a cardiac baby. after that, i sit up to jump down off of the table. when i did, he said, "good girl."

WHAT KIND OF OUTRIGHT GOD FORSAKEN FUCKERY IS THAT BULLSHIT?! seriously. what. the. fuckity. fuck. my BFF, ashes, went with me. evfen she was sittin there hopin and prayin i didn't kick this holier-than-thou man's ass. and believe you me, it was hard as hell not to do so. stupid fuck. he can go the fuck on somewhere with his bushy ass eyebrows that need to be mowed with a lawnmower. ugh.