Four hours of my life I will never get back. Thank you, Michigan/Michigan State game. I was perfectly happy with my earbuds, listening to Lana Del Rey, but my husband kept tapping my shoulder, because for some reason unknown to me, he thought I gave an actual fuck about first downs and whatnot.

I cannot invent enough curse words that do justice to my level of ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ I would have rather watched Allegiant on HBO than pretend to pay attention to this ‘monumental’ football game. It’s ‘monumental’ every goddamned year, and guess what? The world keeps on spinning, for fuck’s sake. Seriously, people act like their first born children will be cursed with warts or some shit if their team doesn’t win. Michigan State wins every year. There. You’re free to live your lives for-fucking-ever without wasting a single second watching the game.

And now the news is covering the game. Because there isn’t anything more pressing to discuss? Jesus, fuck.


Cover your eyes, and count to one hundred

against the old oak tree in your backyard

Do you know who you seek?

Your liberal grand-daughter, raised Roman-Catholic,

now engaged to a Muslim who works for a mulatto family

back in the city you’d left behind to save your


But you weren’t listening, or Father wasn’t teaching…

which is it?

Are you really a friend of Jesus?

Your grand-daughter argues that you do the devil’s bidding

because you spit on her Muslim fiance

and his bi-racial employers

You laugh because you’re cocky,

but you are old, knocking on Death’s door

So why fight a losing battle?

Each generation is moving further away from religion

Religion, in the traditional sense, has one foot in the grave

And religion, by and large, no longer dictates–

at least not here in the States

So stop pretending that gays are going to hell

Stop pretending that God is real

and that God gives humans morals

God does not equal morality

I know many Atheists who are far better human beings

than the most stringent followers of God and his son













I win some, I lose some; I win more than I lose–I lose a follower, I gain three. Fuck you very much. I’m not a gambler, I’m just honest, and for me, honesty is never a wager I’m afraid to bet on. I know I often rub people the wrong way, and I’m totally good with that, because those who find themselves rubbed the wrong way will either respect our differences, or they will throw me to the vultures. Those who throw me to the vultures, bless their hearts, are people I don’t want to know. Not because they have different views than I do, but because I have different views than they do, and they are too small minded to accept variety. I like variety. Variety keeps me on my toes. Variety keeps me learning. And I never want to stop learning.

Not to say I am never offended. I am often offended. I’m offended by racism. I’m offended by people who contribute to rape culture. I’m offended by modern day feminism. I’m offended by anti-gay Christians. I’m offended by people who are offended by those who say ‘Happy Holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas.’ I’m offended by people who wake up every motherfucking morning with the goal to find offense in dusty corners.

Activism is good, unless your activism is built upon physical harm–yes, ANTIFA, that includes you. Listen, you can’t denounce groups known for violence, and come at them with violence, and claim you are better than they are, because violence begets violence. Fucking DUH! If you want to make a difference, don’t be a part of the circle. And if you are hell bent on injuring people, or even killing people, join the fucking ARMY.

Those who know me, know I am married to an ARMY veteran. Those who know me know I have the utmost respect for America’s Armed Forces. I only mean that if people have so much energy to waste on hating people, and if they want to play big shots, maybe they should be fighting the real enemies. Because Black people eating in the same restaurants as you, and transgenders using public restrooms in a motherfucking Wal-Mart are the least of America’s worries, you know what I’m saying?

For real, America, get your shit together. Why do I feel like I’m one of the few with a goddamned brain? Seriously. I’m poor as fuck, and I’m not stupid. The government could pay me minimum wage, and I’d be happy to take the fucking lead. Hey government! You know where to find me, I’m sure.



I am blessed with friends who care about me. If I feel hopeless–if I feel like my life is not worth continuing, my friends will speak out to me–this I know. But not everyone is so sure about their friends. Not everyone knows their value. I wish I could personally tell everyone the world over that they are valuable beyond words. I wish I could make every human see that they are important. No one should ever question their value. No one should ever feel they don’t belong.

But there are those who do struggle. There are those who feel hopeless, despite the number of friends they can count. Depression is real. Listen to me; Depression is real. No matter what some may say, depression is not a sign of weakness. Andrew Tate, you’re a fucking ignorant asshole. And I’m happy you’ve never fallen to the illness that is depression. I wouldn’t wish depression on anyone, even you. A lot of people are bashing you now, because you’re fucking stupid. I’m bashing you, too, because not only are you a fucking loser on a loser prime time program, but you’re fucking stupid enough to think your opinions mean a goddamned thing in the grand scheme of things.


You are not cute. Some stupid dudes at least have their looks to fall back on, but you do not. I wouldn’t fuck you for ten million dollars. And believe me, that is your loss, you fucking ignorant monkey fucker.

Have fun being irrelevant.



I respect, and do defend the First Amendment. All of you KKK motherfuckers, you have the right to publicly barf your hatred. You can march with your swastika flags and Confederate flags all you like, but the real Americans with functioning brains are on to you hillbilly motherfuckers. I can generalize you all as hillbilly motherfuckers on my blog without real repercussion, because First Amendment, bitches.

How many of you piss-ant wannabes know the origin of the swastika? Do you know it has roots in Hinduism and Jainism? Of course not. Because you’re all racist thunder cunts who adopted your beliefs from a psycho-path with halitosis–Adolf Hitler. It makes me sick that he was smarter than most of you fucking idiots. Have any of you even looked up Hitler’s history?

All of you racist pricks claim you are upholding the law of the Bible.

Motherfuckers, I don’t believe in the bible.  I believe in equality.

Come at me.








“I wish I could like, I don’t know, burn his blog down, or something. LOL”


“Hahahaha. Oh go on, write a blog with that title. X”

“Hahaha! Yeah, that whole thing as a title lol”

“Yeah, the whole thing, lol”

I’ve been a blogger under various variations of my name, as well as a few pseudonyms for like, ten plus years. And even though I know ghosts will find me, being that I have chosen this eternal internet life, I am still annoyed when these cockroaches and douche bags make attempts to rekindle relationships that I wish had never been in the first fucking place. That being said, I will almost always choose to be polite, because I’m working on a better version of me; one who doesn’t chew bologna smelling fatty heads off at the base of the spine. Rather, I write vague prose and poems about them for my own amusement, and for those in the know.

I understand that it is a mean-spirited, juvenile thing to say–wishing I could destroy someone’s creative outlet with a beautiful, raging fire. Some people are dirty, dirty cockroaches and/or useless douche bags (douche really is useless, and has the potential to be harmful, actually; and anyway, vaginas are self-cleaning, so douche is redundant), but I am not justified in my desire for their grief. Yes, grief, because listen, if some twat waffle were to come along and set my blog on fire, I’d be moaning like a hired fucking funeral mourner.

That’s all I got, folks.




Entertainment is King. In the United States, game shows are prime. Answer a series of questions correctly, and you could win hundreds of thousands of dollars–maybe a million. Okay, so most game show contestants only walk away with thousands before taxes, depending on the game show. It’s fucking gross though; we have politicians fighting over which programs to cut and save, but if Joe Street answers a series of random questions correctly, he may never have to work again. Why the fuck do these networks have so much fucking money that they can pay these people when our entire country is in debt? Is there is a secret storage of money to pay game show contestants? Why is it okay that some random fucking asshole wins more money than he’s ever seen simply because he could name the correct recording artist of a shitty song, while our U.S. Veterans are fighting for their right to receive prompt and adequate medical care? Why is it okay that a single mother has to pay $1,000 a month for family heath coverage?

I’m just fucking disgusted. Nothing makes sense to me. Kids are losing their band and art programs–and its been proven that kids who are involved with band and the arts perform better on tests.

Tests. Don’t even get me started on standardized tests. That’s for another blog post.

I am absolutely disgusted with the treatment of our veterans. I’m disgusted with the treatment of our U.S. citizens in general.

And I’m totally fucking OVER the deficit. As far as I’m concerned, the deficit doesn’t fucking exist, given that it seems like the ceiling can lifted on a whim, ffs.

Seriously, I don’t get these politicians. Why do they deserve better than the average American? If I’m not mistaken, their job is to serve US. US. Me, and you.

They have the power that they do because we ALLOW it. Get that through your heads. For fuck’s sake, I learned that in middle school.






Twelve children nationwide had died in unattended vehicles this year before the official start of summer.

Now car manufacturers are talking about equipping new models with a sensor to remind the fucking grown-ups to check the backseat for children before exiting the car. There have been devices on the market for a number of years, but apparently they are doing fuckall, just taking up space on retailer shelves. But! we shouldn’t have a need for these products to begin with–that we, as a society, require electronics to prevent child death by “forgetting” them in our vehicles overloads my system. My brain, and my heart hurts.

What the actual fuck is wrong with people?

New vehicles shouldn’t only be installed with simple sensors and alert systems. They should also be equipped with tasers. Because if you exit the car, and close the door with your child(ren) locked helpless inside–setting off the reminder alarm–the alarm should trigger a taser to take down your ignorant ass, AND! automatically alert 911.

[Preface: I am a patriotic woman; the proud wife of an ARMY veteran.]

There are actual rules to safeguard against unfair warfare.

Read that again:

There are actual rules to safeguard against unfair warfare. I’m sorry. Color me fucking stupid, but what’s the point of these rules? There are weapons that are illegal in warfare. Weapons such as plastic landmines; Phosgene gas; Mustard gas; Nerve gas; spike pits; biological weapons; Napalm; poisoned bullets; and non self-destructing landmines.

Okay. Fucking fine.

But the Geneva Conventions created protection for people not participating in hostilities, including the wounded, sick, shipwrecked, prisoners of war, and civilians. Children are killed daily on their way to school, or while shopping in the street markets, without repercussion–mothers and fathers bury their sons and daughters despite the rules of fair warfare. So what the fuck is the point to these rules when no one has to adhere to them?

I just don’t understand the point in making select warfare weapons illegal when military forces are ultimately going to act accordingly. You know…with the optimal end.

Tonight, I said to my husband, “Why not make it a rule that warfare be carried out with fucking muskets and cannons–Civil War style. That’s fucking fair.” And he said, “We’re (the U.S.) the only ones who would follow the rules.”

I know Jim is right. I also know that I’m naive/ignorant, and not at all intelligent enough to pass judgement on military tactics/rules–U.S. or otherwise.

I just find it laughable that there are rules in place that ultimately don’t mean jack-shit when it comes to the outcome.



I can’t say it enough.


It won’t change in our lifetime.













The Trouble With Fuck Faces: part one

[Fuck faces are everywhere–you know, those special groups of people who’ve been slugged in the face with a heavy bag full of fuck, and they’ve allowed that fuck to fuck up their lives forever. Their sole purpose becomes spreading the disease. They’re similar to dickheads, who run around hitting people with bags of dicks for shits and giggles.]

Even small, neat, calm neighborhoods are blighted by fuck faces on occasion. Last summer, my husband and I were befriended by new neighbors directly next door. At first meeting, they were quite talkative, and seemed polite, so of course, I immediately suspected them of habitual fuck uppery. Because growing up, my dad always told me, “When someone you don’t know too well is especially nice to you, you’ve got to ask yourself, what does this person want from me?

Damn, dad. Paranoid much? 

Puff-puff-pass, you know what I’m sayin’? For but for realz, the truth is my dad is not paranoid. He’s experienced. He’s observant. He possesses a keen insight that surpasses the human level. He’s bad ass. I’ve learned from the bestest. So these fuck faces next door…yeah, they’re the fuckest upppest, and I knew it all along.

“We’re shady fuck faces, so we’re polite to the nines.”

Gladys Kravitz. The nosy neighbor of Darrin and Samantha Stephens (Bewitched). I’m a goddamned Gladys, folks. Jim isn’t any better. Both of us are at the living room window, peaking through the blinds whenever we hear any signs of life at the rental house to the south of us. It’s normally just their dog, barking his fuck face face off. Yeah, even the dog is a fuck face. The postmen won’t deliver the mail anymore because they are afraid of the dog, who is always outside.

So this is my beef: these fuck faces, over the winter, had decided not park in their fucking driveway, but cruise on between our two houses, cutting far over the property line to park in their backyard. Our lawn has been murdered by the various vehicles that frequent their place. I mean, what the actual fuck is happening over there??? I will tell you!

Jim and I recently purchased a car, and we ordered a Persian Gulf veteran license plate for it. When the plate arrived in the mail, Jim attached it, proud as fuck–as he should be. The lady neighbor happened to be outside, so Jim said, “Finally got ‘er legal.” To which Shady Lady replied, “Yeah, that’s why we’ve been parking behind our house. We will be legal this weekend.” Guess what? It’s been three weeks, and they are still being creepers.

I hate them, and I want to junk punch them. Over the winter, their stupid fucking big ass inflatable swimming pool blew into our yard. The fuck faces LEFT IT THERE, killing our grass. First of all, who in their right mind leaves an inflatable pool (empty or not) standing during a Mid-West winter??? Second of all, what the actual fuck is wrong with people??? I want to ask them, but they are gone early in the morning before I can pry myself out of bed, and come home late at night–by that time, I’m sleeping.

So, this is what shady fuck faces do. They blow sunshine up your ass, talk your ears off–build a friendly relationship–just so they can destroy your fucking lawn, and run drugs or some shit out of their house while you look on, smiling and waving like a goddamned idiot.