i'm NOT dead. in fact, i've been busy and wearing my Wonder Woman gear: lasso, invisible jet, funk band playing my theme song...
"aww, Cherry! you change men like you do with your underwear!"
actually, sometimes i don't even wear under things.
my snail mail to him: here's No. 2
shock value: Mein Kampf
HOT, right?
.
the storms totally tore through the South. it's as if we can't catch a break! my old town is all BUT leveled, but my friends have high spirits and strength. i've been praying like no other time.
Yaya is a slut and got pregnant. she delivered seven babies March 30th. someone is driving down from Lexington today to pick up one of the little buggers for adoption in response to a craigslist ad of mine. we simply have no extra room for so many more pets! and that's saying something because i live out in the country on three acres of land, surrounded by trees and ponds. it's bittersweet, but Yaya has to remain my main baby. i'm keeping one of her puppies; I've named her Dixie Diamond, the jewel of the South. kawaii!
my undies!
oh! and Nic Sheff has been ALL over my mind. here he is in the bookstore where I work (and play):
gosh, i'd love to meet him. all the more reason to finish MY novel.
YES: i'm studying for the MCAT AND writing a book at the same time...
also, just have to say how proud i am of LIZ! you go, you! you are such a beautiful and powerful force! i would definitely vote for you and rig the votes (if this was a National election and i was managing Florida's ballots).
i'll make a proper return. this roundup stands only to prove that i am alive and well. speaking of which, the Osama bin Laden news couldn't be more major and difficult to fully absorb at once!..
i'll get back to y'all, all of my dear friends, SOON.
(don't read any further if you cannot tolerate the details of graphical reference to open surgical wounds, violence against attacking animals, gore, guns, saws, and Tough Ladies with not one, but TWO firearms)
truly not as bad as it appears. she's watching TV right now.
i rushed outside to find my baby girl, YaYa, down and caught at her neck by the jaws of an evil pit bull bitch that we had been fostering from the threshold of death for the past few months. when a pit's jaws clamp down, NO force can pry them open. the pit has to relax before the jaws release. i heard YaYa crying in pain with her eyes going red. i could only imagine the damage to her jugular and i wouldn't let MY baby die--without the responsible one dying FIRST.
i tried to break up the fight with my words. i reached my bare hands inside and tried to pry open the great, slobbering jaws of the pit, but they didn't budge. i put a pole in the pit's jaws and used my weight into my foot as a lever in attempt to pry the jaws from YaYa's neck. i went and got the rifle from my uncle's bedroom to shoot the bitch in the head and get it all over with nice and quick. there were no rounds for the chamber, and the damned thing was jammed anyway. useless. i went and got my brother's .22 pistol to take some head shots at the pit to get her off. there were no bullets. WHY DOES NO GUN IN MY REDNECK COUNTRY MANOR OF A HOME HAVE ANY AMMUNITION?! i spied a saw in the garage where the fight was still raging. YaYa sounded awfully hurt, damaged, and in unbearable pain. i pressed a button, but the saw wouldn't run. i had had enough by now. i was going to end this violently and with all of the aggression, anger, hate, desperation, determination, and crazed drive to kill that i could muster in me at the moment (and boy was it a lot). little, ole me, saw in hand, reached way back overhead and brought the deadly sharp blades of the saw down cracking into the pit bulls skull. i'm telling you, the skull audibly had been cracked quite impressively. and i didn't stop. i kept hacking with all of my blood-lusty might and every bit of force and strength to drive the saw's blades harder and deeper down into the head of the attacking dog. fur flew from my blows, blood spewed and spurted from fatal stabs down into the dog's own brain. i shortly saw the pit bull's eyes go dim and roll back into her head as she was losing consciousness and life. her jaws slacked and it was just enough for my YaYa to split and dart inside of the house for cover. i stayed outside. with the saw. i hacked down the dog's head into a broken and bleeding nightmare. i was met with wet, gushing sounds of pulp splitting, and the sounds of skeletal stability being ruined. i reached back way overhead and made quick work of mutilating the head of my former pet. she went still with blood pouring from her misshapen eyes in her gruesomely and warped shape of what was remaining of her cranium. i hacked at her neck over and over and grunted as i partially decapitated her. i stabbed her with the saw. i heard her whimpering in the throes of her being currently murder, so i kept hacking at what was becoming a flattened stretch of bits of loose fur, bloody flesh, innards, and large pools of bright red blood.
when Animal Control arrived, the wagged their finger at me for using two guns that were not registered to me, but chucked when i told them the damned rifle was jammed anyway and i couldn't find any fucking rounds or bullets anywhere! the Sheriff pulled the cigarette that i was smoking out of my mouth and threw it away directly. "I used to smoke like a train; you ought to stop that early on, you know, little miss.!" the Sheriff and the accompanying cop laughed at my accomplishment and called me a "Tough Lady." they removed the remains and mess from my garage and suggested that i buy myself a nice, new rifle to register to myself. i'm going to comply with that.
YaYa is fine. her wound is still open. she had a drain sutured in during her surgery. God is good and let me save my puppy's life, because her jugular was completely unharmed, and the skin there is alive and will heal, so there's no need for a risky future surgery to separate her flesh and muscle from the organ in attempts to save it. she has five prescriptions: a pain reliever, a sedative, an antibiotic tablet for twice a day, a spray-on steroid for healing and cleaning, and a spray-on aluminum bandage. it makes her all shiny, and i've been calling her "Silver" for the past couple of days. she's antsy to no surprise of mine, so i had to also purchase a muzzle to strap onto her snout after her sedative calms her down in order to apply her daily sprays to the wounded areas without risking some painful bites. i've even mastered the art of using a leash effectively to lasso around her middle (she has no neck suitable for a collar to go around), for walks and such. i love my baby YaYa. we take our medicine at the same time together, and both of our mix of medications has increased our appetites. she has been my partner for several midnight snacks and second lunches and the like. she, with her sparkly silver aluminum bandage sprayed onto her neck and her surgically inserted drainage tool, is lying on Momma's (my) bed right now suffering no pain, just the annoyance with her plastic drainage tool getting in her face and pissing her off. she's content and tiredly loving my pets and rubs. she kisses me in the mouth as she has always done. she still rushes at my two cats just to knock them over when they invade her territory (she's still a spoiled, Tough bitch). she's my baby. and she's alive. (end of my Amazonian warrior woman blood-lust attack of rage with multiple weapons tale that i like to brag about)
oh, and my dearest "Claytoris" and i are having so much fun together:
and this is my second mention of this awesomeness! i have a brand-new and fully functional Google Voice Number!
absolutely without charge (unless you happen to be International, outside of the USA) and with all of the freedom and familiarity as with any other telephone, you may call me to chat, listen to my charming, thick accent during my voicemail greeting, leave me a silly voicemail message laughing about said thick-ish Southern accent, and even send me an SMS txt message! if not connecting to me via the widget, then the number directly to my line is: (601) 871-0635ahhh! exciting and SO cool! cookies to the one who leaves the funniest voicemail or txt message!
did i ever actually relay to anyone in particular just how i am convinced that my boyfriendmanfriend Hung the Moon?
how sweet it was (and IS still)!
any man deserving of my considerations, reconsiderations, explanations, and, yes--even apologies summoning up a pain in self-reflection and a ghosting of grieved desperation (and there have been so, so, SO few of these males that i have chanced upon encountering) is special.
Hot Clay.
un-ornamented (and a bit ill)
i am still enjoying my brand-new, first-time-in-my-life dangerous and short real hair. i am known for wearing a choice from my unhidden. brazen collection of beautiful wigs when i am feeling rushed, or when i draw a blank during my routine styling. Meet Bob, some of you for the first time. a couple of months ago, my tresses were whacked off so short, that the ends curled under at my cheeks and didn't fall to my neck. NOW, after my regimen of multivitamins, DHEA, Doc's orders, and a more wholesome lifestyle all around, i find my real hair touching my shoulders in a longer fashion of bob. i even crafted some blonde streaks (oh, you know me) upon some small hair combs in long, flattering layers to place at the front, framing my face. the extensions are human hair and are entirely genuine-looking. i don't apologize for looking tired and ill in the photo. and i wasn't wearing any makeup (but Clayton thinks that i look especially beautiful in this way).
i'm a lucky, smiling lady. longer, grown-out bob with blonde streaks and an 8 years-older 30 years-old manfriend (who will be 31 to my 22 years in only two months) included.
look at my card of affirmations (and commentary on HBO's True Blood series if you get closer and squint)! these are the strongest statements resonating of my growth thus far. indeed, they are quite important to me and fun to remind myself of! i knew all of these things already, and right now, i'm always only going about remembering these fantastic truths which make me a damned-near superhero.
hmmm... if i were a superhero, who would i be? some sick little part of my mind jumps immediately to supervillain, and immediately assumes the role of Harley Quinn, Joker's (excuse me, Mistah J's) hench wench with the awful accent and jester costume. heh, good girls go to Heaven, and bad girls go everywhere!
and, let me not neglect to say,
"Happy New Year, People!"
do you have a kiss this year? i do ;-) if you don't, i'll send one your way! *smooch* two-thousand-and-eleven is two-thousand-and-heaven; it's our BEST year to date! it goes on! it goes up from here! and that's a promise.
i really don't like to deal with jealous people. i don't like people who try and fail to manipulate my emotional health. i don't like sneaky people. i don't like hypocrites. and that's why i'm making this post--so i know exactly what type of person i don't want to be associated with.
click to clearly see ip address, dates, destinations, and frequency
of recent visits from my dear and long-time persistent stalker friend.
i had originally intended this here lifestream of mine to remain, not private, but un-announced and very low-key. in fact, when i was designing an old header image for here, a FaceBook friend asked me for the link to my current project. i refused to share it, because i wasn't interested in outside attention because it had absolutely no significance in my life journey. i wasn't adverse to the idea of it being seen, or else i would have privatized it. but the fact remains, that if i had been seeking attention from the person who asked, or from anyone, then i would have given out my URL. but i didn't.
i logged into my counter service and found that not only was i getting popular, but i had an anonymous visitor from Belhaven University. this is very close to home, and it's also the university where the FaceBook user who asked me for my link goes to. could it be that they did some super snooping and research behind my back to look at my blog? it would be pretty hard to do, since i didn't even have my blog listed anywhere and not even linked on my profile then! i've obviously laughed about it and gone more public now, since then. this particular person used to stalk my previous blogging activities for a load of sad reasons, including to make sure that her boyfriend wasn't anywhere in my life. anytime he WAS there (and it was quite often that he decided to be), it was because he chose to. so, simply, she wasn't being satisfied at home by her man in some areas, and had to spend her time being worried about me. what a "life." NO ONE has a more significant place in my life than myself. there are no special place-holders. but i had a big place in this girl's life. and i still might, if it's her who was snooping. she sadly admitted to fear of losing her man to me, and also a sick fascination with trying to "be" me and to "top" me. this just proves to Myself how amazing that i really am. i must be, if others want my life! but this is my job, and my job only. not accepting applications. jealousy to the point of emulation is a disease. and it's something that this poor, poor soul has failed to resolve within herself.
i didn't assume what is probably true, and i commented on her blog asking about it. the comment was deleted. i asked her about it on FaceBook and got no response. i even posted this picture onto her wall, and now there is a privacy block in place. and her blog is private now. are all of these actions stemming from shame at being found out? is there a reluctance to accept her actions? i can't be bothered by it. i don't regret bringing any of it up, especially since my wishes were so obviously disregarded about a project that is in my possession. it's my right to show concern about my things if want to.
it's sad to see people not changing. it's pleasing to see how much more Well that i am when compared to them. everyone can say that it is correct to indulge so much in your OWN life, that you have no desire to be worried about the next person, but it takes a mature, strong adult to actually walk the walk. i would like to think that after all of the suffering that this person has miserably endured, that they would get the idea that their tactics do NOT work, and that they need to change already. what a tragedy.
thank you, Universe:
i don't have a baby.
i dumped the lousiest ex in the world.
i don't use drugs to escape from my life because reality is too painful to face.
i don't keep secrets or do things in the dark.
i'm not obsessed with something outside of myself.
nothing has a higher place in my life than myself.
i'm not a huge hypocrite.
i don't have an insignificant significant other.
that i dumped my Stalker's husband because he wasn't man enough, and I'm absolutely thrilled to have done so.
he begged to stay with me, would sneak and call me while his girlfriend was in class, and cry on the phone with me while he told me the sad secrets of his life. and it has absolutely no emotional resonance within me now.
i don't have to fist fight my lover because i'm miserable in my conditions.
my life is not a big joke to me everywhere i turn.
my "husband" never talked about kicking me and his baby out on the street. and i still manage to stay by his side.
I HAVE GOTTEN OVER THE PAST A LONG TIME AGO.
it must suck so much for your life to play out in refrain of the most painful part of your past life--day in and day out with no escape. i'm so happy that i'm not imprisoned in my past! i'm so happy that this is True and that i don't have to fake like it is, or cloud it over with drugs! i am so thankful for contrasting experiences to aid me in further knowing what it is that i DO want. i'm so thankful for such people as described above to be in my life, so i can use their mistakes and interaction to co-create an even better experience for myself. their only purpose is to help me to better visualize the life that i want and to achieve it.
i have gotten over the past a long time ago. i have triumphed through it all. if you can't be sure, just look at my life. look at what it is saying. how does your life speak of you? other people can always see it. let that always be on your mind. let it be something that's worth thinking about (or being obsessed about, like my life is).
this isn't the server who made us laugh. FINE--it is.
my "little" bro turned 21 today. the fam (including my other little bro's friend-turned-relative) celebrated at an asian buffet place. the food was excellent; i gorged myself on sweet rolls dipped in drawn butter (i get so tired of eating food from my job). Mom asked our server what this particular restaurant did as to special procedure for birthday tables (note that i didn't say "if")--and our server was obviously not communicating on even the same plane as us--because she said "Yeah," very unenthusiastically and quite un-surely, and walked off to tend to another table.
i laughed at the same time as my mother was literally bursting into tears from her laughter. we asked the server a third time, and she excitedly answered us saying Oh, I know what you mean now! Yes, yes! She and the other servers came back after an extended time with an improvised cookie cake with jello and a candle miraculously stuck and holding in place in the center. the Birthday Song, which was voiced by persons sounding as if they were all under the age of 9 years of age, was played over the restaurant's speakers, and onlooking guests from other tables around looked on us as we all laughed at the insanity and took photos for blackmail purposes:
GOTCHA! Dare you to make me angry now!
other things that happened that night:
i hurt my tooth severely after biting into a lobster roll that has bits of beef bone ground into it.
two younger persons were getting it on in the restrooms when one of my party members had to go inside.
it took 20 minutes for someone to actually even understand our request for our television's channel to be changed--not to change our actual remote control--after a gentleman gave it up after watching his team lose.
i tipped the server because i originally was going to head straight home after work for sleeping, but i honestly had more fun and laughs out with mah peoples. AND because i had someone act unkind towards me today, and i counteracted the experience with my giving. AND i went to the Boos-A-Million efficiently located too closely to resist the tempting promises within--and i purchased absolutely nothing. the working associates (who all know me by name), were SHOCKED. i was too, frankly. saving is becoming so easy to accomplish--and i don't even have a goal in mind immediately. i wonder what the Universe is trying to bless me with very soon...
lagniappe: this is the most romantic song that i've heard in a long while. heard while driving around today. all-in-all, today has been filled with Magic in the Mundane. and it only gets better, of course.
despite what my face allows me to get away with, i'm embarrassed to say that i suck at flirting. my mother is always pushing me to wink at the older guys [do something, darling! look at him, at least stop looking in your book..] and my grandmother also reminds me that i never know when i could meet my husband and that i should always smile and stop scowling at every evidence of fuckery that i witness, because it isn't going anywhere.
well this has absolutely nothing to do with any of that.
there is this absolutely GORGEOUS woman in my facebook network. i'm talking smoking. and i had the guts to message her one day to tell her that i thought so. this is what it got me:
woah! and she is supposedly "straight." this happens to me more often than is conventionally casual being how i am easily perceived as an established heterosexual lady, what with the being engaged to a man? once and everything. so i wonder about myself. i like to imagine that i have an attractive androgynous wile that draws the eyes of both men and women. guys look at my face, my legs when i expose them and like it. girls look at my striking and wise eyes when i look at them without inhibitions, my strong walk, my independence, the flair i use when simply opening a door for myself and get both embarrassed and flustered when i acknowledge and smile at their staring and even wink at them.
haha. i'm a monster. it's so delicious to flirt with a pretty woman! why can't more guys do it the correct way and stop pissing me off?
waggle your eyebrows at me after i look at you and look away. don't stare at me when my back is purposefully turned to you and will me with your mind to turn around and face you via telekinesis. don't honk your horn at me unless you're in a well-kept antique car and wearing a top hat with a cigar hanging out of your mouth. don't yell at me "Hey, girl.." don't start "whispering" about me to your boyfriends to travel with. don't don't don't. blow out your cigar smoke in my direction, smile. wink at me and don't expect me to do anything back. have a commanding presence and something to talk about other than your money and gaudy accessories. wear suits, not baggy denim shit. Oversized tees paying homage to legends are OK. hip, urban jargon sucks. call me "Miss" and "Lady."
