A Dance In The Hurricane

The other day I was cleaning out our closet.  It was time to do some much needed purging.   I decided to gut out everything and go from there.  I ended up finding some old cards from a few years ago when my mother passed away.  I opened each one and read them again, this time with five years behind me.  They were sweet and sympathetic.  My Aunt had sent one reminiscing about when she and my mother were teens and very close.  Some I kept and others I didn’t.  So much for the big purge.    In among the cards I found a letter that was written by a childhood friend of the family.  Her kids were friends with us when we lived in the old neighbourhood.  She and her husband were friends with my parents.  We used to visit them at their house after they moved away into a new house.  She wrote to say how dismayed she was of my mother’s passing and that she hadn’t realized my mother continued to reside in Chatham.  She assumed she had moved in either my brother or myself.  She was disappointed she had not made the effort to reconnect.  I think she was disappointed neither had my mother.  I don’t think it was anyone’s fault that they got disconnected.  It was just life.

Kids grow up, graduate, move on to university or not, tragic events unfold, weddings and new houses, new babies, new lives.  It’s everything that happens over a lifetime. We get disconnected. We get disjointed and enmeshed in the everyday we forget the connections that were made years ago on a summer’s day when the children were small, who later walked to the bus stop hand-in-hand on frosty fall mornings, caught “all things squirmy and squishy” (her words) and played basketball until nightfall.

letter

Those days get lost in band practices, packed lunches, hockey games and baseball tryouts.  People get older, move to other streets or to other towns.  They work, they make new friends, they move on to other hobbies, other occupations and other past times without the old acquaintances that have become a part of their past.  The present is different.  Its fluid and changes with the seasons and the ever-speeding passage of time.  We don’t notice the children becoming adults until they are there.  We don’t notice our hair changing colour until our hairstylist points it out (while saying loudly WHY ARE YOU NOT COMING HERE MORE OFTEN?!  )  we don’t notice the deeper cracks in the sidewalks outside the house,  how the maple tree has grown exponentially or how few little children are out playing street hockey these days, until all of that suddenly seeps into our consciousness and we take a look around us with open eyes.  And older eyes.  How did this happen?  When did we get HERE?

I understand her disappointment and dismay.  It seems like a sudden about-face of one minute she’s there, the next she’s gone, but really it wasn’t like that.  It was a lifetime of being, of living of surviving.  The disconnection of relationships is unfortunately, an everyday occurrence that can be prevented if we take the time.  Aye there’s the rub.  TIME.  We never have enough. It flies away so fleetingly.  If only we had more time to connect, to say ‘hey’, to reminisce, to support, to actually stop and watch everything grow and change without having to be awoken to its transformation.  It’s a difficult dance.  Maybe we don’t want to watch because if we do, then we’ll have to admit that we are getting older, life is flying by without us even moving or flinching in this hurricane.   Maybe we don’t really want to see the children getting older or the sidewalk cracking or the maple tree growing so big we can’t see across the street, anymore.  We’d rather hold on to today, to live in the present, just let me have one more day!

Connections are our lifelines.  We crave them, seek them out and some hold dear for a lifetime.  Our intentions are for connections to last as long as we take a breath, to be eternal and constant, but sometimes those bonds get weaker and grow more distant, then are suddenly lost in the gale force wind.  It’s not wrong.  It’s life.

I’m thinking after all of this time, to send her a letter of reply.  To let her know I did receive her letter and I did read it and I still have it.  That I remember everything she said was true.

Maybe, that could be one little dance in the hurricane.

The Universe Is Being Trumpy


 

Whenever an issue arises that seems too all-encompassing or beyond any conscious reckoning, I throw it on out to the Universe to take care of. That way, if it all goes to shit, I can throw my fist into the air and curse the Universe for being obstinate or even a little too self-important and not blame myself for being lazy or forgetful. I mean really, you couldn’t spare five minutes to take care of that little thing I asked for? YOU HAD ONE JOB, UNIVERSE.  

Meanwhile, I’m stuck reveling in the mundane and eking out a bit of fun where I can muster the energy. This life thing is tedious sometimes and I must admit to being just a bit tired. I get tired thinking of getting up in the morning, I get tired of going to work, I get tired of doing household crap and I get tired of getting tired. I sound old. And like I’ve just given up on life all together, but really I haven’t. Honest.  

I still get to sit by the fireplace on my quiet nights when I’m alone and write in my journal. I still get to get out with friends and be obnoxious. I still get to bother my kids and ask annoying questions like ‘what are you doing?’ and say the ever popular ‘CRACK IS WHACK’ That pretty much sums up my discussion on drugs. That and ‘JUST SAY NO’. Lame slogans I can get behind. My point in there somewhere is that even when life seems very dull or overly annoying to the point of downright ridiculous, I can still find things to make me feel a little myself again. Like spew annoying clichés at the kids about drugs. Write about my dullness in my journal that is non-judgy and even kinda enjoys my boring run-on sentences. At least, that’s how I like to think of it. I get to exercise. SOME people may roll their eyes or say ‘oh, yeah. What a privilege’ but when I look forward to getting to the studio and a having someone yell at me that ‘YOU CAN DO ANYTHING FOR TEN SECONDS’ and ‘YAY BURPEES!’ then maybe, it’s become a part of me. Maybe I can’t have a good day without moving and feeling stronger. Or maybe, deep down I’m a masochist and I like all the yelling and sweating and swearing…like a Trump rally, only without all the hate.

Either way, there are other things to do and feel good about when life gets dull or ridiculous or too Trumpy. (Trumpy – Adj. word that describes life when it gets judgy, hateful, sweaty and utterly ridiculous to the point of giving the world the middle finger. Eg. He was to the point of swinging from the balcony after his girlfriend dumped him. He wanted to give up. He felt his life had become too Trumpy without her presence. ) Feel free to use this new word. I expect Webster’s will indoctrinate it soon enough.

Get outside, find a hobby, write in a journal, or do some burpees…whatever makes it better.  

Leaving shit up to the Universe to take care of may work some of the time, but it seems to me if I can tackle it myself, it will work out better. This way, I might get all of the blame but I just may get all of the credit, too! And of course, the cake in the end.  

THERE IS ALWAYS CAKE IN THE END…

 

Right! Best. Quote. Ever.

 

 

Perfection Is A Myth and Words I Don’t Like


It is a myth. Seriously. Perfection is impossible to attain. It’s an illusion. A mirage. A trap designed to suck you in and laugh while you fail miserably at all attempts to own it. Don’t fall for it. Just be you. Imperfect. Flawed. Making mistakes and owning up to them. It’s better for all of us if you just calm down and be you. You will be better for it. So will your mother. And your father. Siblings. Friends. Colleagues. The kid that mows your lawn. The guy that leaves you creepy notes on your desk….Everybody. Essentially, the human race will be better for it. Stop trying to perfect perfection. It can’t be done. Instead, concentrate on being. Being in the moment, being present, being you. Still trying to stand up straight, still working, still breathing, still paying your bills and raising your kids; still walking your dog and helping your neighbour; still falling down and getting back up only to fall down again. Maybe that last part is just me. Anyway, we like you. Honestly, we do! Stop trying to be better than someone else or better than anyone or anything. It’s not a competition. Just be you.  

That was my anti-perfection rant. I felt it needed to be said.

Also, I need milk.

Words I Don’t Like

I felt like I needed to sub-title the second half just to make it easier for you to follow along. I didn’t want someone to get lost inside this post and wonder what the hell all the fuss was about. I care.  

I hate the word ‘deserve’. I don’t understand its usage. How does one person ‘deserve’ something more than another person? How does that work, exactly? I deserve to have a day off and the other person doesn’t? Or do we both deserve it? Who decides? “Go have a good time. You deserve it!” I’ve heard that on many occasions. How do I deserve that? I worked hard? So did many others. Do they deserve it to? “Oh he got what he deserves.” Implies that he was on the other end of some bad shit. What did he do to ‘deserve’ that? Broke the law? Broke someone’s heart? Broke Mrs. Brady’s lamp? What?  

It bothers me.

I never use this word.

It’s in line with other words I don’t like.  

I have a list:

Bitch ( Although, I did force myself to use that in a post)

Moist (I’m not the only one who HATES this word)

Dumb

Stupid

Retard(ed) (SHOULD BE OBLITERATED FROM THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE)

Various terms used to describe women genitalia (All of them are AWFUL)

Craptastic (WHO THOUGHT OF THIS WORD?! Ugh)

Newfie ( Newfoundlander is much better, thank you. AND, just so you know, I’m not a REAL Newfoundlander, I’m still a Mainlander with an honorary title of Newfoundlander. Somebody important told me that. I can’t tell you who, it’s all very hush-hush. Stop asking. A secret ceremony was held. There may or may not have been alcohol involved…)

 

I can’t think of any more right now, but I’m sure there are a few that bug me. Add to the list if you like…It’s an add-on-to-the-awful-word-list blog post. I like to get people involved.

I’m a giver like that.  

 

 

 

An Open Letter To Humanity

Dear Fellow Human Beings,
I know the past week has been a shithole of nonsense, lies and outrageous tweets. I know that most of us are sitting here questioning the future of the human race. I know that the new leader of one of the biggest nations in the free world is a royal butthole and insistent on remaining narcissistic, misogynistic and racist. I know. I see it too. Let’s all just take a deep breath and ponder the other side.

Yes, the other side. The other side of negative-hate-spewing-nonsense. The side that is clinging to righteousness, decency, compassion and kindness. The side that still champions the underdog, encourages forward thinking and values intelligent dialogue. The side that recognizes the value of a diverse culture, freedom of thought and expression, and the ability to accept the worthy differences in other human beings. This is the side of which I’m choosing to remain a big part, because this is the side that will always win.

I know it doesn’t seem like it now. I know that dark days are ahead of us and the knee-jerk reaction is to duck under the covers and hide until it’s over, but we can’t do that. We need to be the light. We need to guide the way. We need to be the strong ones. We need to take back the human race for the next generation.  

All the light people, stand up. If you can’t stand up, that’s okay. Raise up something…a hand, a foot, a finger an eyebrow, anything. Do it. Remain the positive force that I know you all are. Smile at people. Remind them we are all in this together and one asshole does not have the right to make our lives become a shitty existence. Show some compassion when you can, help a neighbour when he needs it and be there for a friend when she calls. Human decency and kindness is all around us, we just need to take a closer look and shout it for the world to see.

The other night, I was in the line-up at Walmart. I didn’t have a cart thinking I only needed a few things, but overloaded myself with stuff. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t that heavy. I was number ten in a long line, but just ahead of me was a woman in a wheelchair. I knew this woman since I worked with her when I first moved to St. John’s. I was her PCA. She would curse and swear at me. Throw food at my face. Call me down for hurting her and all the while, I would smile and say ‘sorry’, not because I did anything wrong, but because she had so much more going on and she was bitter about it. I got that. So that night as I stood in line at Walmart and watched the cashier help her with her groceries, load them in bags and attach them gently to her chair, assist her with her debit card and make sure she had the correct cash back she needed, and make sure she is okay, I remember the bitter woman and smiled at the cashier. She was calm and courteous and respectful. She didn’t rush her or roll her eyes. She didn’t make her feel any less of a person for being in a wheelchair. She treated her the same as everyone else…A HUMAN BEING.  

No matter what some orange guy with a personality disorder spews over Twitter or says in a news conference, we are all valuable worthy human beings and deserve respect and decency. We are all capable of spreading a little compassion and kindness instead of revelling in dark hate mongering. We need to be the bigger force, the better people the stronger team for those who can’t; for those whose voices get drowned out by all the yelling and hateful speech. Take a breath, remember the light and concentrate on battling the dark side with humour, kindness and warmth. It’s a little thing, but in the bigger picture will make a difference to someone and that’s what we’re here for.  

Stay positive. Smile. Laugh. Walk your damn dog. Buy your kid a cookie. Carry someone’s groceries. Tell someone you love him. It’s all enough, even if it doesn’t feel like it.  

I’ll be over here in the light with the rest of the human beings if you need me…

Thanks for reading and listening and smiling. Carry on, Light People.  

Carry. The Fuck. On.

KJ xo 

  

 

 

Top Ten Tips For Surviving The Snowaggedon Headed Our Way

The forecasters are busy sharpening their pencils and keeping vigil over the radar to see if the blizzard of 2017 will actually happen, or actually float off to sea and forget about us plebeian Newfoundlanders. Snow is inevitable on our lovely Isle, however, THIS IS RIDICULOUS EVEN FOR US. So without staging a riotous panic and running out to get ‘supplies’ (and by supplies I mean WINE), and fighting with the entire population of the Island now lining up at Costco over the last case of KD, I think it’s a good time to run down some necessary information that could prove useful for surviving The Weekend It Wouldn’t Stop Fucking Snowing, or as I like to refer to it, HELL WITH NO CHANCE OF ESCAPE.

 

10. Keep your wits about you – good advice even when you’re not enduring the snowstorm from hell. Stay vigilant. Stay alert. Stay drunk. It’s pretty much all the same anyway and when that mountain of snow is at your doorstep, simply stay hunkered down under the blankets and close your eyes. SOMEBODY will shovel that shit. Hopefully, you dodged the task by staying blissfully ignorant…and drunk.

9. Keep the lights on – Let’s hope for everybody’s sake that Dark NL is a thing of the distant past, but if not, keep the flashlights handy. Candles are Satan’s flashlights, people, so no going to beddy-by-by with a lit candle. Flameless are better and if not, playing pin the tail on the donkey in the dark IS TOTALLY AWESOME. The kids will love it…just have the first aid kit handy in case the pin goes eyeward….OR, playing cards is great too. MAKE ‘EM GUESS WHAT’S IN YOUR HAND. I guarantee, you will win EVERY TIME.

8. Stay warm – don’t you hate it when you post shit on Facebook about having to endure the WORST SNOWSTORM THE EARTH HAS EVER SEEN and all your friends are posting “stay warm. Stay safe” smiley face-happy-ho-ho shit? Gawd. I’M FREEZING MY ASS OFF, HERE. THERE’S NO POWER, HEAT, OR ELECTRICITY. I’M COOKING HOT DOGS OVER A COLEMAN STOVE IN MY ICE ENCASED FUCKING SHED. THE KIDS ARE NEAR DEATH SINCE THEIR PHONES RAN OUT OF BATTERY POWER AND THE INTERNET IS DOWN…but, Smiley face-happy-ho-ho!! Hugs! Ugh.

7. Activities will save your sanity – keeping everyone busy is key to surviving two+ days of tortuous snowfall and since a lot of moms out there will be THE go-to person for the laments of ‘I’m bored’ and ‘what can we do now’ here is but one idea about how to keep the kiddies busy: Play Find the Neighbours. If they can guess where the neighbour’s house is hiding in the 100km hour winds and the whipping masses of snow THEY WIN. They can get bonus points for guessing which swear words the neighbour is currently spewing at the snowplough driver for putting a mountain of snow back in the driveway. Double bonus points for doing the maniacal laugh of the snowplough driver as he drives by. Another one: get the kiddies dressed in their snow suits, throw them out the back door and play a ferocious game of ‘Find the Barbeque’. If they can locate it within an hour, they get to shovel the deck…USEFUL AND FUN. Not a good game if the bloody thing was put in the shed like responsible people. FIND YOUR OWN GAME!

6. Make sure the electronics are charged – for fuck’s sake, make sure the cellphones, tablets, computers and anything else that requires battery operation is fully charged. If those kids lose an OUNCE of time without ANY OF THIS SHIT you will live to regret it, my friends. Hell has taken on a whole new meaning. Nothing pisses off a kid more than going a few milliseconds without texting ‘LOL, WTF, OMG’ to all of his friends…and their friends… And of course keeping you up to date on how much snow has fallen already and when the next round of ‘nikky-nikky snow-plow-man’ will happen….

5. Radio? WTF is a Radio?! – remember in the ole days when a transistor radio was THE KEY TO EVERLASTING SNOWSTORM LIFE? Without one you were doomed to wonder what was happening outside your door. You were left to imagine the snow was coming to an end, that spring was around the corner, that there was life after forced quarantine by snow. WHO HAS A DAMNED TRANSISTOR RADIO NOWADAYS?! Nobody… besides the conspiracy theorists who are fearing the dreaded Zombie Apocalypse headed our way and are holed up in their homemade bomb shelters armed with rifles and canned goods that they got at Costco THREE YEARS AGO, that’s who. FIND THOSE DAMNED PEOPLE AND INVITE YOURSELF TO THEIR UNDERGROUND CEMENTED BOMB SHELTER. THEY WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE! They will also try to brainwash you into believing the Zombies are coming…so…your choice. Just get a radio and MAKE SURE YOU HAVE BATTERIES IN IT! Gawd.

4. Snacks – I vote for snacks. Nothing makes everybody hungry like being ensconced in a house of horrors for more than an hour, so keeping the cupboard and fridge loaded with crap they can eat will at least shut their pie holes for a few seconds of quiet magnificent bliss. Spoken like a true mother…

3. Make sure the pets are indoors – an important one as you don’t want Spot outside frolicking in the whipping snowstorm then getting lost in a fortress of mountainous snow…now, the kids on the other hand…hmmmm

2. Arts and Crafts – I’ve heard that in order to keep everyone calm and quiet during a storm, that mothers actually participate in activities WITH their kids like arts and crafts and coloring and shit. REALLY?! EXCELLENT. I’ll be over here crafting my wine bottles after I’ve consumed WHAT WAS IN THEM. Here kids, modge podge the shit out of THESE EMPTIES. WHAT A GREAT IDEA. Mommy gets to drink the contents and the kids have activities to keep them busy! NOTHING LIKE QUALITY TIME WITH THE KIDDIES!! I LOVE arts and crafts….

1. Be Helpful – Snowstorms can bring out the best and the worst in people. Take care of yourself and be helpful to your neighbours. If you see Mr. Wilson out attempting to shovel the four feet of snow that landed on his driveway, be a community-minded helpful neighbour and cheer him on. Nothing shows support more than standing in your window with a beer in your hand applauding his useless attempts at battling the Mt. Everest of snow at his feet. Be a hero! Sing the National Anthem as he attempts the first few shovelfuls…he’ll soon come to his senses, throw down his shovel and join you…so, make sure you have beer. I think that’s evident from the first tip. ALCOHOL AND FOOD ARE ALL YOU NEED TO SURVIVE THIS SHIT!  

ANYBODY KNOW ANYONE WITH AN EMPTY BOMB SHELTER LYING AROUND?!

I can bring the snacks…and the wine.

Good luck…

See the polar bear? See him? Me either…

 

 

Namaste, Bitches

Daughter and I have decided to give Yoga a try.  She signed us up last week and tonight is our second class.  It was a little disconcerting to be walking into someone’s private home as a Yoga studio, but we decided to keep an open mind and give it a go.

Our Yogi is a slightly-more-than-middle-aged woman who has cleared away the front room of her house to use as a space for practicing.  It was spacious and warm, a perfect spot, really.   There are only 8 people to a class, and to say Daughter is the youngest is akin to stating that an elephant is big.  EVERYONE is my age or older.  She seemed undaunted by this, but I was a bit concerned.  I mean, hey it’s all good for me sista, but she’s just a youngin’…not the class I think she had in mind when she went on Google to find a studio.  Yep.  Googled ‘Yoga Studios’ in our area and this is the one she chose…huh.

yoga

Yeah, we don’t look quite like this

I was unfazed by the older man with the ZZ Top beard and the ragged faded jeans, but the dude who placed his mat beside me (I think his name was Brian) was a heavy breather.  Yep.  Like a bad Seinfeld episode, this guy sounded like he had just run a marathon in under four minutes.  Good thing he wasn’t a close-talker or I really would have had an issue…

seinfeld-close-talker

Close Talkers and Heavy Breathers back up and turn over, please

There were more men than I expected, but I think they were part of couples since the ladies they joined seemed to be very supportive and insightful in the ways of Yoga.   “Bob, YOU WON’T NEED THAT BIG CABLE KNIT SWEATER DURING CLASS.  UGH”.     “Jim YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG”    “Frank, for GOD’S SAKE JUST BREATHE!”

I did not hear any of that, but it would have been AWESOME if I had.

Couples Yoga should provide counselling services after class.

Hello, business idea for the psychiatrically inclined…

By the way, ‘psychiatrically’ is probably not a word and I’m not about to look it up.  I just spent waaaay too much time re-watching Seinfeld episodes looking for a Heavy Breather gag…

The class was a wee bit longer than I thought and when she pulled out the bolsters and dimmed the lights, I thought ‘couples yoga’ is about to get weeeirrrrrd, but it was more like nap time in Kindergarten.  Sorry, ‘relaxing time’…

Her voice suddenly dropped a few octaves as she went around the room to make sure we were ‘relaxed’…mkay.   I suppressed my urge to laugh and made it through relaxation time unscathed…. except for Heavy Breather Dude who I think almost went into cardiac arrest when it was time to come back to reality and this plane of existence…and stand up.

Poor Bob had to put on his sweater lest he got a chill….tonight is about to get awesome with Geriatric Couples Yoga….

yoga-posing

Lose the sweater, Bob.  It’s about to get real up in here…

I CAN’T WAIT!!

Namaste, Bitches.

 

 

12 Days With No Added Sugar and Still Alive To Tell About It

I’m finished my 12 days in the 14 Day Challenge the Land of No Added Sugar, and I have to say it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.  I figured by now, I’d be hoarding little sugar packets and chugging back their sweet goodness in a bathroom stall. (I didn’t do this)  Or licking the remnants of a latent brownie or cookie crumb off of the kitchen counter, ( I SO WANTED TO DO THIS) or sucking back the remains of wine from the recycled wine bottles still downstairs. (NO, I DIDN’T DO THIS EITHER, EVEN THOUGH I SEE YOU EYEING ME AND THINKING THAT I REALLY DID…OKAY, I THOUGHT ABOUT IT… GAWD)   Or even sneaking mouthfuls of chocolate chips straight from the bag. (Somebody beat me to it)   I haven’t done any of that.  No, really.  I haven’t.

Oh, sure the first few days were like The Hunger Games around here.  I could have easily made one of my kids a human sacrifice for a piece of chocolate cake…or cookie…or crumb of a cookie.  Seriously.   Hubby wouldn’t even drink a glass of wine in my presence lest he endure a death stare of epic proportions.  He still hasn’t had any wine…maybe he’s been visiting the recycling bottles downstairs…

I’m better now.  I don’t feel the need to stab a baby for its juice nor take down some random person in the street for drinking a can of Diet Coke.

Most days.

All that being said, I feel well.  My cravings have diminished.  I have found a coffee that isn’t like drinking the bottom of a sink hole filled with sludge and I’ve lost a few pounds along the way.  All good.

I have noticed a few other things since embarking on this journey of sugarless magnificence:

I’m not craving sweets as much as I used to. Not even chocolate, which is surprising since it’s as close to my heart as cute puppies and Christmas

My eyesight has NOT improved.   WTF sugar?!  Not that I thought it would, but I thought if I was clouded with sugar-induced haziness, it may improve to the point of me not having to squint.    Still read today’s bootcamp exercise as ‘Stripping’ instead of ‘skipping’….and just so you know, the Canadian government weather website tab says ‘Taxes’ not ‘Texas’…I remember thinking “WTF has Texas got to do with Canadian weather?”   Or Taxes for that matter…MAGOO TOAST

I still want a glass of wine. That hasn’t gone away and next Tuesday, I will possibly indulge in a glass…TUESDAY IS NOW MY FAVOURITE DAY.

Sorry to the fellow bootcamp ladies. I must apologize for my epic under-my-breath swearing ( I only said ‘Fuck off’ a few times…yeah.  A mere few times…)  at your effortless perfection in the kitchen in posting all those wonderful looking recipes whilst I slob over on the couch watching Leah Remini take down Scientology and then  cry over the next FUCKING AWESOME EPISODE OF SHERLOCK EVER.  (I think that’s the new title, by the way.  Look it up.  It’s on PBS.  Even THEY can be a wee bit sweary when they want to.)     Anyways,   I would post an epic pic of my unflavoured oatmeal drowned in Cinnamon, but I feel it would cower in comparison to all of your blah blah wonderful soup-stuffed-something-or-other with kale and fucking AVOCADO dishes.    Not a wee bit edgy….

I eat more often. I eat better food every couple of hours so I’m not ravenous when I get home.  Seems to do the trick

I drink more water…probably because there’s nothing else to drink, but it has helped.

It doesn’t bother me too much when my co-workers plop down in front of me with their tea and Oreo cookies and eat them in front of me without offering one or putting them away out of sensitivity for my plight with sugar and all it’s evilness. Oh, you’d think they’d care, but apparently they are as empathetic as an abandoned indifferent stagnant rock with no care or compassion for others who are working their asses off at improving their health and fitness and becoming an overall well-rounded individual, so piss off!  Nope, doesn’t bother me ONE BIT.

So, there you have it.  I’m rocking the sugarless thing with all the raw emotion of a person on a runaway roller coaster with a death wish.

ONLY TWO MORE DAYS TO GO AND EVERYONE MAY SURVIVE THIS SHIT.

Maybe….

karen

Me on Tuesday