Archive for the ‘I dream of being a ninja’ Category

Longest post title ever.  Like Fiona Apple long.

Last night/this morning, I had a migraine that was so grand that I wanted to rip my brain out of my head.  I had to call out of work today because I hardly slept all night and my head was still a mess this morning.  Ugh.  I still have twinges, but I’m feeling a little better.  Ugh.

This week has been quite busy for me.  I’ve hardly been home and when I have been here, I’m trying to write and can’t because people keep calling me.  I know I know…I don’t have to answer the phone, but they’ll just keep calling my house line and cell until I pick up.  My family and friends are persistant stinkers.

Now for the updates:

  1. I got a new cell phone and new cell number.  I know that people love keeping their numbers, but when I get a new phone I feel that it’s an opportunity to start fresh.  Those fuckers that keep calling me, even though I don’t want them to can find someone else to bug.  Oh, and I got the EnV.  I love it.  It took me forever to figure out which phone I wanted, but I settled on this one because of the keyboard and the built in music player.  I don’t need to carry both my Ipod and my cell phone anymore.
  2. i have a bone to pick with Apple.  Yes, that Apple.  I’m in the process of converting all of the songs I have bought from ITunes to MP3 because these asswipes can’t put their files in a formt that can be used on anything other than an Ipod.  Fuck you.  I bought the song, let me do what I want with it.  I have spent the past few hours burning all of the music I have bought off of ITunes onto a CD and then reloading the songs into Itunes so that I can convert the music.  I’m then deleting all of the files that are retarded from Apple.  They should reimburse me for my fucking time.  I’m never downloading another song from ITunes.  I will make Amazon my place for music.  They have more of a selection anyhow.
  3. To provide you all further evidence that I am a dork, I will tell you what my ringtone is for my new foxy phone.  It’s Hedwig’s Theme from Harry Potter.  Yeah, you wish you were as cool as me.
  4. I’m reading the book The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula le Guin.  It’s brilliant.  I want everyone who loves to read to go to the bookstore, pick up the book, and read the first couple paragraphs of the book.  If that brilliant peace of writing doesn’t ensnare you, you have no soul and you’re dismissed from my blog.
  5. The show Fringe is fucking awesome.  It has, so far, replaced the whole in my heart left by The X-Files has left.  I love this shit.  Crazy, out of this world, impossible, and tests the limits of our beliefs and imagination.  This is what television and entertainment is about.

That’s all.  Have a great weekend!

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Yesterday, I went to a local Irish festival with my mom, stepdad, and their friends.  My uncle and cousin were there too.  I had a good time, the music was quite good.  I had about 5 hard ciders with little to eat.  After the festival, I went to my mom’s friends house for a barbacue.  They lit their fire pit, even though it was hot as fuck, and we drank lots of homemade wine.

And today I have paid for it dearly.  I also made these Pilsbury cinnamon rolls and ate them all.  This always happens when I’m hungover.  Can you say oink oink?.

A few things happened at the festival:

  1. I got choked up when the bagpipers were playing.  Why?  I have no idea.  It just got to me.
  2. I saw 2 old friends I haven’t seen in years.  It’s nice to run into old friends.
  3. While I was going around to the different vendors, a teenage girl was staring at me like I was some kind of freak.  I frowned at her and she blurted out, “You have golden eyes.”  I said, “Yes, I do.”  She then looked around and whispered, “You’re not a vampire, are you?”  I wasn’t drunk yet, if that’s what you’re thinking.  I rolled my eyes and asked her if she liked the Twilight books and she giggled.  I informed her that they weren’t for real.  She said, “I know that.”  So I asked her, “Why the fuck did you ask me if I was a vampire?”  Ugh.  I can’t stand retarded people.  Not real mentally challenged people, my heart goes out to them.  I’m talking about normal people who don’t think.  Especially, know it all retarded teenagers.  Am I a vampire?  What the fuck!  And why do these idiots always come up to me?
  4. I used a port-a-potty three times without gagging.

Oh, and I’m loving the new HBO series True Blood.  I bought all of the books in the series that inspired the series and I really loved those too.  Maybe I am a vampire, though I’d rather be a ninja.

Vampire eye…really?

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That title is really really really long, huh?

I have a lot to say, so I’m going to list it to make it easier on me poor addled sleep-deprived brain.  And it ain’t going to be in the order of the title either. 

  1. Why did I get two kittens?  What are their stories?  Why was I even considering getting 1 kitten when I had two fiercely gorgeous bitches at home?  Because I’m a sucker for a sad story and cuteness, that’s why.  The woman, Bobbie, who had given me Roslin, called me 3 weeks ago in a tizzy, telling me that Roslin’s mother had given birth to a litter in her (Bobbie) neighbor’s lawn mower bag.  Bobbie and the neighbor got the kittens and mommy cat situated in a box on Bobbie’s porch.  All seemed well, until that afternoon.  Her town was having a block party and the motorcycles spooked the mommy cat.  She took one of her babies with her and left the other 3.  If you recall, Roslin and her litter mates were abandoned by the same mommy.  Apparently, she’s extremely skittish.*  Hayden was one of the three abandoned by mommy, Nina was the one kitten that the mommy took.  So, Hayden has been hand-fed since day 1.  Bobbie found Nina walking around the backyard last week and brought her in the house.  When I got there, I was coming for only Hayden.  I wanted a boy cat and Bobbie was holding him for me.  But, then I saw him cuddling with Nina.  She looked up at me and I gasped.  Bobbie told me that she had homes for all of the other kittens, but not for Nina.  I just didn’t think and said, “I’ll take both of the babies.”  And that’s how I became a crazy fucking cat lady.  If someone told me a few years ago that I would have this many animals, I would have laughed in their face.  Damn.
  2. And why aren’t people who have multiple dogs mocked and labeled?  I know a lady with 6 dogs and nobody calls her crazy.  Just sayin.
  3. I have to clean my office.  Bad.  You can’t see the top of my desk because of all of the junk in there.  I’m sure nobody cares that I need to clean my office, but writing it hear seems like a promise to myself.  It’s written down, so now I must do it.  Or something like that.  I’m sure I’ll put it off another week or two.
  4. I think I’m going to start recording podcasts again.  They were fun and maybe I can talk some of my friends and family members to be guests.  I’ll talk my sister into it tonight.  Now, if only I could remember how to post the podcasts…
  5. Oh, and I found a webcam in my desk drawer.  How long have I had it…who the hell knows?  I’m not even sure if it’s a good one.  It’s probably one of those webcams that has a delay by a second or ten and the playback is like watching a record skip.  And the audio is out of time with the visual.  I’ll have to check it out.  Maybe I can show you how big of a bitch Stella Marie is.
  6. Oh, Stella Marie.  She is pissed.  I mean, PISSED!!!!!!!!!!  She is all like, “What the fuck is in that bathroom moving around? Why must you do this to me?  I am a spoiled brat and don’t want to share you with anyone?  It’s bad enough you brought that pain in the ass Roslin home…two more?  Bitch, I will claw you until you scream.”  Roslin is so scared of Stella that I had to accompany her to use the litter box.  Yes, I had to stand there while she pooped and Stella hissed like a fucking mental case.  And let’s not even talk about my lack of sleep because of Stella Marie’s hissing, spitting, yowling, growling, and screaming.  Such. A. Drama. Queen.  I told her yesterday that she might as well get all of that foolishness out of her system right now, because the kitties are staying.  She turned her back to me and walked away growling.  She had dingle-berries on her butt, so that kind of diminished her haughtiness.  Of course, I had to cut them out.  So, I guess in some strange way she won that argument.  She certainly wasn’t wiping my ass.
  7. I have to cook cook cook for my mother’s party tomorrow.  She graduated from college, yay, and we’re throwing a gigantic party.  I hate the prep, but it’s so worth it in the end.  It should be a great time.  I’ll try to take some pictures.  All of my stinkies (Morgan, Connor, Rylee, and Colin) will be there. 
  8. Morgan wants a kitten and is coming to visit me today to see my babies.  My sister-in-law promised that if Morgan made the principle’s list she would be able to get a kitten.  She already told me that she’d name that kitten Keira or Zoe.  I asked her, “What if it’s a boy?”  She cocked her head and gave me a raised brow, “Aunt Debbie, I don’t want a boy cat.  How can I have a secret club for girls and have a boy cat?”  Makes perfect sense.
  9. Blog Drama.  Or better yet, Blogworld Drama or whatever you want to call it.  I’ve read about 5 posts in the past day dealing with it and I’m like, what the hell, and creeped out.  Does anyone take this blog shit (or life!) that seriously?  I mean, come on people.  It’s the one way you can be sure I will lose my interest in your blog, write about blog drama or posts dedicated to haters or whatever.  I used to do that and then I realized that it was retarded.  So retarded.  I have haters and I don’t give a shit if they come to my blog 100 times a day.  Happy reading to all, even the people who hate me.  Maybe that’s why my blog isn’t as popular as it used to be.  I don’t care about the blogdrama crap and I’m certainly not signing up for that club.  It’s so tedious and middle school and I have better things to do, like clean my office or learn ninja moves or poopy-scoop 4 litter boxes or masturbate or clean my bellybutton.  When I read a blog, I want to hear about a person’s days or thoughts on politics or how good he/she were fucked the night before or some creative stories or something that challenges my believe system and makes me go and learn something new…that type of shit.  Who buys into this form of Blogs of Our Lives bullshit?  It’s kind of disturbing.  Stop it.  Stop writing about it.  You’ll be happier.
  10. I just realized that my whole family will be at my mom’s tomorrow for the party.  Oy vey. 

*Mommy cat was fixed last week, thankfully.

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One of my famous numbered lists because it’s old school Fresh Air Lover and because I’m back to my dumb-ass and ridiculous self.

  1. Let’s start with Monday. I finally spoke to Mr. Wood (aka Construction worker I’ve been all kinds of crushing on…he’s a carpenter). Don’t get too excited, he sneezed and I said bless you and then he said thanks and I smiled and then he smiled and then we stared at each other for about 20 minutes which is how long the train ride home is and…the end. I’m a smooth operator, don’t be jealous.
  2. I moved my desk at work and it’s very nice. Very very nice.
  3. I was wearing my favorite pair of pants on Tuesday. They are too big on me now. Everything is too big on me. So, I’m wearing them and I’m in the bathroom looking at the sagging ass of the pants when I notice that my waistband is sticking out. They have a thick waistband with those hook-type thingies instead of buttons. I looked down at this protruding waistband and I had a thought, which is usually bad. My thoughts are often retarded.  I thought it looked like I had a package. You know, package that boys usually (hopefully, you know what I mean) come with.  I shared this with one of my good friends to which she replied, “GET AWAY FROM ME YOU NUT.” Yeah, I’m sorry for that Dawn.
  4. I got so irritated by the OxiClean guy on Tuesday night. I just hate his grating, irritating, obnoxious, constipated sounding voice. I believe I raised a fist and yelled, “Shut up you stupid fucker” or something like that when I heard someone clear their throat. Real close to where I was standing. It was the new guy who lives downstairs. He scared the shit out of me. I didn’t hear him come up my steps because I was concentrating intently on telling off the commercial. I also forgot my door was open. It was weird explaining my sad personality and anger issues to someone I don’t know very well. He looked a little weirded out.
  5. Period talk, consider yourself warned. I woke up this morning to bad cramps and what looked like a crime scene on my sheets. I haven’t bled like that in a very long time. What was even more terrible is that I was really lightheaded all morning. I feel better now and my flow has backed off, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit concerned.
  6. I haven’t seen Mr. Wood since our big conversation on Monday…bless you…and I’m pissed because I’ve dressed up and put some effort into my appearance every day this week. I even had my knee-high leather boots and eyeshadow on today.
  7. I could eat a whole baguette right now. This is the stuff I crave during menses. Not chocolate, but bread. With bruschetta. Or guacamole. Or butter. Or plain. Or the Alfredo dipping sauce at the Olive Garden. Ohhhhh, now I really want some bread.

And lastly, I feel like we need some Tool up on this shit.

…I sure could use a vacation from this stupid shit, silly shit, stupid shit…Fuck L Ron Hubbard and Fuck all his clones. Fuck all those gun-toting Hip gangster wannabes. Learn to swim. Fuck retro anything. Fuck your tattoos. Fuck all you junkies and Fuck your short memory. Learn to swim. Fuck smiley glad-hands With hidden agendas. Fuck these dysfunctional, Insecure actresses. Learn to swim…

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As I did last year, I will be live blogging about the Grammy’s. I will do this as long as I can stay up. I’m still sleepy from being sick.

I think the Grammy’s are pretty much a joke and I enjoy making fun of rich, clueless, mediocre pop stars who think they’re artists and matter to the world. Actually, that last sentence only applies to about 95% of those the Grammy’s are celebrating. There are some seriously great artists around, such as the Foo Fighters, Alicia Keyes, Amy Winehouse, Neil Young, Tool, Tori Amos, Wilco, PJ Harvey, Kate Bush, etc…

I’m going to start with the Red Carpet shit…

7:26 PM: Who the fuck is Flo Rida? Are you kidding me with that name? He just said that he’s definitely going to be nominated next year because his record is going to make history. Really? Make history? Historical?
7:28 PM: Christ Daughtry’s wife has huge boobs.
7:30 PM: Why do the women of E! look like aliens? They are so skinny with giant heads. They need to eat a bit more.
7:38 PM: JayZ is a fucking prophet.

And now the award ceremony…

8:02 PM: Alicia Keyes makes me happy.
8:06 PM: I hate this Carrie Underwood song. Can we retire it? Her hair should have it’s own flag. It’s terrible in a Dollywood way. And that’s nothing against Dolly. I love Dolly. Only Dolly can pull that teased shit off. Carrie’s such a pretty girl, she’s doesn’t need all that hair.
8:09 PM: Prince still looks hot.
8:11 PM: God has been thanked for the first time. Ri-fucking-diculous. Let’s thank god for waterfalls, hmm? Not Grammys.
8:18 PM: Jungle Love…oh there ain’t nothing wrong with that. Oh ee oh ee oh.
8:20 PM: I think every time someone thanks god, I’m going to thank god too but I’m going to thank the gods for something appropriate. And I will thank different gods, not just the most popular one.
8:23 PM: I fucking LOVE The Band!!!!!!!!!!! I grew up on this kind of music.
8:25 PM: And the Beatles! I love the Beatles. This is lovely that the Grammys are honoring them. They should honor them every year.
8:31 PM: Oh, I love this version of Let It Be. It’s beautiful. It’s makes an amazing gospel song.
8:35 PM: What the hell am I going to where to work tomorrow?
8:37 PM: What the hell is this violin shit?
8:45 PM: I don’t get Kanye West. I admit I haven’t really tried to get him and I don’t really think he’s worth my time. It’s not like he’s saying anything profound or new. So far, all I hear in this retarded glow-in-the-dark song are old and tired cliches.
8:50 PM: I know Kanye lost his mother recently, but I feel like he should really keep her memory a bit more sacred than this. I’m uncomfortable listening to this.
8:53 PM: I don’t get Fergie either.
9:05 PM: How does Tina Turner look so good? Mercy. I hope she sings the theme from Mad Maz Beyond Thunderdome. I love that song. Or Proud Mary since John Fogerty is in the audience and he wrote it.
9:09 PM: Beyonce looks good and she sounds really good tonight.
9:11 PM: I’m wondering if they’re actually going to give out any awards. I think they’ve only handed out 3 so far.
9:13 PM: Andy Williams is still alive? Holy shit. I love his Christmas albums.
9:22 PM: They put the best act so far on the stage outside so that those fakes inside don’t get jealous. The Foo Fighters are real musicians. You can tell. They sound great. Hi Dave, do you remember me? I saw you in 1992 and then again in 1993 playing with Nirvana. You don’t remember? Well, you were great then too.
9:33 PM: This dude has a paisley printed guitar. His last name is Paisley. Country music today is a place where notes go to die. I think every song tries desperately to be mediocre.
9:39 PM: You’d think Kanye would take that stupid jacket off.
9:41 PM: I now know why I don’t get Kanye…because he’s retarded. Someone should teach him how to be a bit humble and to pronounce the word genre.
9:43 PM: Arethra looks terrible. She sounds great but she looks like the picture of bad health.
9:46 PM: The giant cross all lit up like that is kind of scary too. I wonder if they would have a big production like this for a Jewish choir, if there is such a thing. I find it insulting that this Jesus-lovin shit is being featured. This ain’t church and not everyone is Christian. They should have equaled it all out with Nine Inch Nails playing right after this or something like that. I’m going to have to get this shit out of my head with some Slayer later.
9:50 PM: I would rather listen to John Mayer sing than this shit. Oh, they’re finally finished.
9:56 PM: Carol King looks great too.
9:57 PM: What the hell is Feist singing? I can’t understand a word she’s singing. I hate this song. I feel like I should be at the circus.
10:00 PM: Kid Rock, please retire that damn hat and the chester molester facial hair. And maybe cut your hair. Even the guys in Metallica cut their hair and they’re still rock and roll. You look like someone Megan’s Law was made for.
10:05 PM: Shit. John Mayer is performing.
10:08 PM: I don’t know how much later I can stay up. I’m fading.
10:15 PM: Are Alicia’s leggings supposed to be so sheer?
10:16 PM: At least John’s hair looks better. Thank goodness it wasn’t a whole performance of him and his orgasm faces.
10:18 PM: Nice dig at Kanye, Vince Gill.
10:24 PM: I’m taking a shower.

Okay, I’m going to bed. I can’t stay up any more. I’m recording the rest of this show and will update this post tomorrow evening. It will be like real-time because it will all still be new to me since I don’t usually watch shit like this or pay attention to shit like this.


I’m back. It’s Monday and I’m watching the rest of this crap. Of course, I won’t do timestamps since it’s not live blogging anymore.

I loved Rhapsody in Blue. I love listening to orchestras and especially to people who can play the piano like that. It’s just awe inspiring.
— Why aren’t they giving out any awards? Isn’t this an award show?
— Amy Winehouse. She cannot dance or she’s so skinny and her hair is so big that she just looks weird dancing. But whatever, I like this performance. She’s looks a lot better.
— Okay, it’s nice to see a reaction like that. I’m talking about Amy Winehouse. She obviously didn’t think she was going to win.
— Is this the most boring Grammy’s you’ve ever seen or what?
— I’ve been so fucking emotional lately. Everything is making me cry. Just 5 seconds of Pavarotti’s amazing voice is making me tear up.
— John Fogerty sounds pretty good. I wish he would have sang “Fortunate Son”. I guess that they had to sing something about rock and roll.
— Oh shit, Little Richard. I love me some Little Richard.
— Um, album of the year? Herbie Hancock? Yeah, he could have made a magnificent album but here’s my problem with it. All of the other categories of the Grammy’s have nominees that are popular but not necessarily talented. This is the way they have been swaying for years. And then they give the album of the year to a very, and this isn’t to take anything away from Herbie, unpopular album. Grammys, either have some integrity and put some worthy nominees on the ballots or go completely pop and forget about the real artists.

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I have some announcements and resolutions I’d like to put in writing before I start this picture post. I’m going to number them because that’s how my brain works.  Oh, and before you start reading please be warned that this is a boring ass post with pictures of my cat and family. Here goes..

  1. I’m on my way to becoming a vegetarian. I’ve decided to completely revamp my lifestyle and I’m committed to making myself as healthy as possible. I already eat all organic, but now it’s time to take it a step further. My body is a temple.
  2. To go along with the healthy eating, I have a strict workout schedule that I will be following starting today. I want to get my body back. The body I had years ago when I was magnificent. I will be doing 2 hours of yoga on Sundays and Saturdays; running Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays; bellydancing on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Oh, and 30 minutes of yoga first thing in the morning on weekdays.
  3. I have given up on my blog Coquettishly and From My Knees. I can’t keep up with all of these blogs. And I feel like I need a break from talking about sex. I’ve decided to put my clothes on around here. I know I’ll still be frank and uncensored about things, but I’m just so damned tired of the subject of sex. Seriously.
  4. Fresh Air Lover, this here blog, is NOT going away. I planned on deleting this blog and moving on, but I got a lot of emails asking me not to. I can’t tell you how humbled I was by these emails. I really didn’t think people cared that much. So, I’ll keep this here blog alive and well. And after thinking about it, I find that I need this space more than I thought.
  5. The Home Cook will stay where it is for now.
  6. I’m currently writing a book. Yeah, fun huh. The rough version will be available on a new blog called Too Many Brambles and Too Few Mulligans. The book is about my life, from start to now, and I have decided that for the time being I will allow people to read this blog but not to comment. Not yet, anyway.

I think that’s all. Here are the pictures.

<img src=”http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k230/freshairlover/xmas%202007/roslin.jpg” alt=”
My pretty baby girl, Roslin.

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My little tree. Don’t you like the tapestry I got when I was in South Africa? Yeah, I’m looking for a picture to replace it cause I’m sick of it.

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Yes, I hang stockings for my cats. What of it?

<img src=”http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k230/freshairlover/xmas%202007/roslinstocking.jpg” alt=”

<img src=”http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k230/freshairlover/xmas%202007/mystocking.jpg” alt=”
My stocking.

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Hallway decorations.

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More hallway decorations.

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My festive kitchen.

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Stella and Roslin being nosy about the gifts.

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Don’t the gifts look pretty.

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My nephew, Colin, in his santa hat.

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My mom’s dog trying to get his presents.

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Connor with his truck.

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My favorite picture of this Christmas, my mom and Morgan.

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My nephew, Rylee, with one of his gifts.

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Time for a nap.

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Colin keeps rubbing his tongue against the teeth that are coming in and it’s adorable.

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He’s so cute, I can’t stand it.

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I’m going to tell a story here. One for the ages. It’s the story of how some of my friends came to know me as Peppers. It’s the stuff legends are made of.

I’m not kidding. This is the story that my friends tell new members of our circle. This is the story my sister will tell my children and my grandchildren and generations from now they will tell this story with pride, knowing their great great great great grandma Debbie was one fierce bitch.

I was 23 and dating a man named R. We had been dating for about 3 weeks and, from what I remember, everything was going pretty okay with the budding relationship. I don’t remember him being too weird or anything like that. Normal guy who liked to drink and have a great time.

So, one night we went to an old haunt of mine. Back in those days I was a force of nature. A party girl. A vixen. A temptress. Anyhow, I had haunts and I was well known.

Back to…we’re at one of my favorite bars in Philly. I remember that a few of his friends were with us and we were having fun. After about an hour there, I noticed that a few of my friends had come in and sat down at a table across the bar. These were a group of gay men I lovingly called, The Fudge Pack. Yeah, I was good enough friends with them to call them that. I think they would have skinned anyone calling them that outside the group. You know what I mean?

I get up when I see them and run over to give hugs and kisses. I loved these guys. I bullshitted with them for a while and then went back over to my table. R asked me who those guys were. I told him they were friends. R didn’t say anything else, so I thought it was the end of the conversation.

Fast forward a few hours. We went back to his apartment and I walked into his living room laughing about something. When I turned around to look at him, BAM!!!!! He punched me. Hard. Like I was a man. I hit the floor, dazed and more than a bit scared. After a while I got up and he was sitting calmly on a chair watching TV. I got myself up onto the couch and he asked me if I knew why he hit me. I told him I didn’t. He informed me that because I was ‘his girl’ that from this point on he would be the only person I knew, anywhere, and that there will be no more talking to other men. I told him that the men I talked to that night were gay and therefore no threat to him, but he only asked me if I wanted to get hit again.

I finally decided to agree with him, if only so that I could get out of there in one piece. I didn’t want to be beaten within an inch of my sanity again. Once in one’s life is more than enough. I finally did leave his place and while I was driving home, I devised of a plan that would make me a legend in my friends eyes.

I woke up the next morning to a terribly bruised face. This only made me more determined to seek revenge. I got my keys and went to the grocery store. As I walked up and down the aisles, I debated calling the cops. The police are useless in these situations, I concluded. I wanted R to remember me forever. I wanted to mark him and hurt him so deeply that he would be afraid to hit another woman again. I wanted him to be petrified of me.

I bought 3 habanero peppers, a bottle of massage oil, and a box of rubber gloves.

I put the gloves on and cut the habaneros. I then dumped the peppers, seeds and all, into a saucepan with the whole bottle of oil. I warmed the oil for about 45 minutes, until I was sure that it was infused with the habanero’s heat. I then put this mixture in a container and let it sit for two weeks.

During those two weeks, I was pretty busy so avoiding R was easy. I saw him a couple times during my breaks at work and stuff, but we weren’t alone. Finally, when I thought it was time, I called R and told him I wanted to take our relationship to the next level…that I wanted to make up for being so thoughtless and stupid when I left him to talk to my friends.

He was thrilled by this. Not 1 minute after I hung up the phone was I in the kitchen straining the oil and putting it back in the original ‘Massage Oil” bottle. I dressed sexy and off I went…with my oil and gloves.

As we were getting hot and heavy, I whispered that I wanted to give him an erotic massage. He was excited by this and laid down on his bed. I put the gloves on and he asked me what they were for. I acted bored and told him that I didn’t like having the oil all over my hands, “I find it irritates my skin” is what I said exactly.

I smiled as I poured about half the bottle of habanero infused oil over his penis and then I started rubbing it in, concentrating on getting it right in his urethra. It took about 10 seconds for the pain to register and by that time I had the rest of the oil all over his balls and up his asshole. Through his screaming he was calling me every curse word one can think of, but I just laughed.

I asked him over and over again if it hurt. His penis had turned a nasty shade of red and he was hoarse from screaming. I leaned over him and told him that this is what he gets for hitting me for no god damn fucking reason and that I hope the next time he even considers hitting a woman to think twice because I might not be the most fucked up woman he ever meets.

And then I left.

I wish I could feel bad for what I did, but I don’t. He deserved it. I heard he had pain in his nether regions for days. I never saw him or heard from him again.

And that’s why my friends call me Peppers.

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Well, I suppose it’s only fair that I tell you the reason for posting those lyrics. It’s not what you think. Not even close.

You see, and I’m going for the abbreviated version because I’m so fucking pissed, a friend of a friend of a friend took something I wrote in an email the wrong way. A bunch of my friends were emailing each other to pass the day and he was part of it. Soooo, I replied to something he wrote and he decided I was in love with him.

Yeah, let that one wash over you.

Talk about thinking highly of oneself, huh?

Apparently, he thinks that all of the times I’ve been in his presence I’ve been in total awe of him. I’ve only seen him a few times. He has been to a few dinners, but I’ve never really given him much thought.

Until last week.

I can’t imagine how one could think someone is in love with them over one smartass email I sent. Maybe he forgot that he wasn’t the only one receiving that email.

He then started emailing and texting my friend about me. How he would date me, but it will never be love. This all ended with him emailing me the lyrics to that song, I’m Not In Love, and a stupid ass email about my love for him.

I ended up giving him a piece of my mind on Monday night. So much drama. I’m not even interested in talking about it anymore. Why does this shit happen to me? Where are the normal people?


Stella’s eye is acting up again. I put a call in to the vet tonight and I have an appointment for tomorrow morning. They want to run some tests and give her a shot of antibiotics. This shit is seriously driving me insane. I don’t have the kind of money to keep sending her to the vet every 2 weeks. This will be my 4th appointment in 6 weeks for the same fucking thing. Oy!


You’ll notice that I took down the blog to help that homeless woman and her dogs. We can’t find the woman. I found out she’s out of her mind on drugs and that she’s using the dogs for sympathy. I’ve spoken with several police officers who know her and they said that if anything happens to her, they know of several people willing to take the dogs.

I feel like a real fool for getting sucked in the way I did. I should have known better. But, I just wanted to help her. We did help her and the dogs though. We bought food and water and gave her money and clothes. At least that’s something.


I’ve started plans on starting a vegetable garden in my backyard next year. I think if I grow my own vegetables I’ll feel better. Like I’m using the earth for something. I know I’m a dork. I also joined a nature club in my area. I’m really excited about going on some nature walks. We have a huge bird population here, that’s right…New Jersey, and I want to see as much as I can. I love birds of prey, so it would be cool to see some hawks or eagles.


I took two laxative tablets tonight. I haven’t had a good poop since Saturday. It’s just not right. I usually poop twice a day, at least. So, I’m not feeling like myself. I need to have a day of pooping. Seriously. A whole day. I’m backed up and it ain’t good.


Ann Coulter said the following….

“If we took away women’s right to vote, we’d never have to worry about another Democrat president. It’s kind of a pipe dream, it’s a personal fantasy of mine, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And it is a good way of making the point that women are voting so stupidly, at least single women. It also makes the point, it is kind of embarrassing, the Democratic Party ought to be hanging its head in shame, that it has so much difficulty getting men to vote for it. I mean, you do see it’s the party of women and ‘We’ll pay for health care and tuition and day care — and here, what else can we give you, soccer moms?’”

I hate this woman. Seriously. I want to know what the fuck happens to you as a human being to make you hate your own kind so much. If she was lying in an alley being gang-raped by sadistic serial killers, I would have to pause to contemplate helping her or not. I probably would because I’m the type of woman who would love to have a little piece of shit like her in my debt. Hmmm, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Ann, you have scorned me. You have given those uptight rich masogonist white men you are on your knees serving. You don’t deserve your uterus, clitoris, or tits. It’s not womankind’s fault your face looks like a dirty dried up cunt. I have proof, see below.

Sorry…you know, I was going to put a picture of her on here, but I don’t want her gangbanged looking face on here.


I’m out. Cross your fingers that I have a good day of pooping. And I hope never to write a sentence like that again.

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I don’t really feel like writing a post, but it’s been a while so I’ll tell you a funny story from my childhood.

I was kicked out of Girl Scouts.

Actually, I never made it out of Brownies. I got the boot. From the same troop leader that kicked my mother out of Girl Scouts. She was older than dirt.

It all stemmed from my bitterness at winning not the Best Costume Award for Halloween, but the Corniest Costume Award. Fuck that, right?

I was a flapper. I took dance class and was wearing a beautiful costume. My mom even did my makeup.

Corniest Costume.


The next troop meeting, I found myself in the upstairs bathrooms of the church where our meetings were held and I had an idea. I switched the men/women signs on the doors of the restrooms. People were in there, so imagine a man’s shock in seeing a woman walk into the bathroom while you’re shitting in a doorless stall.

Booted out.

Just like your mother, she said.

I liked that.

At least I never had to sell those fucking cookies.

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