Fucking Assholes

Some say I got a bad attitude, 
But that don't change the way I feel about you, 
And if you think this thought might bring me down, 
Look again cause I ain't wearin no frown! 

And I get sick when I'm around, I can't stand to be around, 

I hate everything about you! 

So, I think I’ve finally come to accept the fact that some people are assholes for no reason at all what so ever. They lie, cheat, and back stab just because they can. For example this bitch I know, I’ll call her Thundercunt, is a habitual liar and back stabber. She lies about big things, little things, sideways things, and upside down things. Why? Because she’s a fucking asshole and I think she couldn’t tell the truth too save her life. The bitch could be on her death bed and God could come down and say, “Yo Thundercunt, the sky is blue right.” Being God he already knows the answer and she knows he knows, but instead she answers, “The sky is cherry red God. What’s wrong with you?” Of course Thundercunt thinks she’s the smartest thing that ever walked the face of the fucking Earth, but not smart enough to realize the jig is up. I’m not the only one who sees through her bullshit. I’ve racked my brain over time trying to figure out why she’s likes this and why she’s still in my life. I’ve tried to figure out what makes a person act like that and for a time I felt bad for her. Her life must really suck if she has to create such an extensive imaginary life and way of thinking. I like logic and order and there is neither when it comes to her. None. I’ve called her out on shit many a time, placed the proof at her feet, and she just talks around it. She turns my words around and around and inside out and uses them against me. It’s sad, pathetic, and ridiculous. Unlike Thundercunt, I won’t lie. It hurt like hell the first time I figured out what she was doing. When I figured out damn near everything she told me was a lie. Here I was, thinking I had found a friend, a good friend at that. We had sooooooo much in common it was unreal. Unreal was the correct word I guess. I told her so much. Things I didn’t normally tell people. I should’ve written her off then, but I felt bad for her and believed that I could salvage things. I am ever the optimist. I was wrong. Unfortunately, for the moment, Thundercunt is still in my life, but not to the extent she once was. She’s more on the peripherals of my life until I can kick her ass to the curb for good. Sometimes people are just assholes with no rhyme or reason to it and I just have to accept it and move the fuck on.

imPRESS Press On Manicure

Recently I was picked by Influenster to receive one of their VoxBoxes. I got the MomBox to be precise. Below is a pic of the everything, but this little blog entry is about the imPress nails. Sorry the pic is a little fuzzy. I can't find my regular camera so I had to use my phone. First here's the official company hoo hah about them.


~*~~ imPRESS Press-On Manicure by Broadway nails ($5.99 to $7.99) - Featuring advanced nail technology, now you can get a salon-perfect manicure in seconds - simply peel off, press on, and you're done.  There's no drying, a killer shine and a manicure that lasts up to a week!  Available in 36 colors and patterns. You can pick these up just about anywhere like Target, CVS, Walgreens, Walmart, ect... Check out their website for coupons and other what nots. http://www.impressmanicure.com/



So, I must admit I wasn't too excited when I saw these. My mind went back to the old school Lee Press On Nails that didn't stick for shit. The color is also pretty damn ugly is you ask me. They were free so I figured it couldn't hurt much to give them a try. So far so good. It was a little bit of a pain getting the backings off, but nothing too difficult. I slapped them on and pressed them into my nail and voila I've got long-ish nails. They are a perfect length for me. I can still type and dial my cell phone without having to use a pen to do it. I may paint over the color later because I just hate it. They do have a ton of fabulous colors as you can see below. The real test will come later when I do the dishes. I may put on gloves though. I would totally buy these.

As you can see they have much cooler colors than the one I received. **imPress Press On Manicure was given to me for free to test by Influenster in my MomBox.**

The Contents of my MomBox

Tonight I Wanna Cry...

But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyesTonight I wanna cry

My younger cousin RayRay is pregnant. Her baby daddy is a piece of shit loser nigger who already has 4 kids and is currently in prison. I’m worried about her, but I think she’s gonna be ok. I was in her situation once, except my baby daddy wasn’t a nigger, though he might as well have been. He was a cocaine and gambling addict at the time and he already had 3 kids.  Yeah I know pretty fuckin dumb right? I was young, too young to know anything, and I wouldn’t listen to anyone.  My cousin is a little bit old then I was when I was pregnant for the first time. She has a mother who is there for her. Here’s the sickening part of all of it though. My dad, he hates my uncle P, RayRay’s pops, and is absolutely fuckin giddy to find out how bad my uncle P takes it. It fuckin just sickens me in ways I cannot even put into words because all I can think about is RayRay and how she’s gonna feel. My dad truly wants him to flip his shit without any regard for RayRay and how alone and broken she might feel. I know what it’s like to have the 2 people you count on the most in the world to be there for you to totally and completely let you down in every way. Now, I wasn’t stupid enough, even in my most wild fantasies, to believe my parents would be at all happy for me to be pregnant at the time by that man. What I got was beyond my worst fears. I had left him, we’ll call him Roscoe, and had moved back home because of his drug and gambling problem. A month later I found out I was pregnant. Roscoe said he’d be there for me, to make sure I had an abortion. After all he already had 3 kids. I didn’t know how I was gonna tell mom and pops, but that was taken care of by my dad going through my shit and finding my pregnancy literature. He had a habit of doing that and saying shit like, “Oh it fell out of your zipped up, closed bag,” or “The mail that clearly had your name on I thought was mine.” Yeah, sure. It was hell after that. They told me to expect no help what so ever from them. Not money, not housing, not emotional, nothing. They hated Roscoe so fuckin much, and I really couldn’t blame them, but what they failed to remember was that the baby was half of me too. It was abortion or nothing so, ironically, on Mother’s Day I had an abortion. For a very long time I wished I had died on the table. To add insult to injury they tried to make me pay for it too. I had charged onto my credit card that was under my dad’s name. I told them to sue me. It turned out my bro had knocked up his girl at the same time, but he was the smart one. He didn’t tell anyone in the family but me until after my nephew was born. I moved back in with Roscoe not even a month later. I was moving out one way or another because I couldn’t fuckin stand the sight of my parents. I HATED them. Especially when I’d come over for the obligatory Sunday dinner and watch them ooohhh and aaahhh over my nephew when they were content to throw my baby away. It’s been about a decade since then. It took me a very long time to stop hating them even thought I haven’t stopped hating myself. I never talk about this, to anyone, but I’m sharing this story with any Tom, Dick, and Harry who happens to come across this page. I don’t know, maybe I hope by sharing this, by putting it out there I can let go a little of the pain. After all I have a beautiful daughter now that I love more than my own life, yet at the back of my mind is the lost baby and all the what ifs that go along with it. My aunt is not my mother, thank God, so I think RayRay will be ok. And I hope to hell my uncle proves my dad wrong. Peeps love the babies, even if you don’t like where they came from. It’s not their fault. 

Letters To Elise

*Letter 2*

Dear Elise,

                It’s been 16 days, 12 hours, and 5 seconds since you left me. I went back to work today, even though you made it so I didn’t have to. The alarm went off at 5:00am. I scrambled, nearly falling out of bed, to shut it off before it woke you. Pretty stupid huh? I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I showered and shaved for the first time in a week. I put on the appropriate work attire and drove to the office. Every one acted the way you would’ve expected them too. Nobody would meet my eyes.  Whenever I would walk past anyone talking they would shut up and pretend they didn’t see me. Of course everyone mumbled all the right, socially acceptable, meaningless words with the appropriate feeling they didn’t really feel. I just wanted to stab them all. I didn’t even make it to lunch. I took the pictures I kept of you in my office and just walked out. I’m not going back, another failure to add to the list. Heather called again, threatening to come by if I didn’t answer the phone. So I answered to tell her to leave me the fuck alone. Another failure. If our roles were reversed, you would be handling this so much better. You always knew the right things to say and had the incredible grace to mean them. Heather would call to comfort you but instead you’d end up comforting her. I’m so lost. I picked up an old friend today, Jack Daniels. I know, I promised a long time ago that’s I’d never touch that shit again. You promised to never leave me. Looks like neither of us kept our word.

                Lolly keeps wondering from room to room until she’s exhausted, looking for you. How do I make a dog understand that her most favorite person in the world is never coming back? How do I make her understand that you’re a fucking liar? Me and Jack need to go get reacquainted now.

I love you, even though you lied,                                                                                                                                                          Elliot

This, That, and A Letter

It's been many moons since I last blogged about my business. There have been good times and a bunch of bad, but such is life I guess. My nail polish obsession is still going strong. I've added well over 50 bottles to my collection since I last blogged. I've been really into independent polishes that I've found on Etsy and other blogs. Some are really super, galactic, fantastic, while others are overrated like Lynnderella. Yup I broke the fuck down and bought a handful of bottles and I'm not seeing what all the fuss is about. Very soon they will be going up on Ebay. Yes, you read that correctly I'm gonna put them up on Ebay. If stupid bitches wanna pay an average of $50 a bottle, who am I do deprive them? They're mine, I bought them, so I can do whatever I damn well please with them and that includes making booku bucks with them. I'll put up pics of my independents at a later date.

So I was watching a movie, reading a book, and listening to a song and an idea popped into my brain and had to be purged. It might turn into something, but probably not since I have a very short attention span. The working title is “Letters To Elise”. 

*Letter 1*

Dear Elise,

            It’s been 14 days, 9 hours, and 23 seconds since you left me. You told me not to be afraid, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m afraid all the time. I was never really brave without you. You made me brave. You made me strong. You made me better. Without you it all feels so pointless. I took Lolly for a walk today. I took her to that stupid dog park you both always loved and I hated. All those yappy ass dogs and their pretentious owns always got on my nerves. You always managed to get along with everyone.  Lolly paced around, sniffing, looking for something. Finally, it occurred to me that she was looking for you. This place, full of over pampered dogs, belonged to you and Lolly. I didn’t belong there. I was an invader. She came and sat at my feet, looking as miserable as I felt. I shouldn’t have brought her there. It was wrong, just another example of my many failures. You would have known this, but you weren’t there to point it out to me. I won’t take Lolly back there again. Heather keeps calling and leaving messages that I don’t return. I wish she’s take a hint. I don’t want to talk to her. I can hear you, right now, in my head, telling me to give to give her a break and that she’s just worried about me. I’m sorry sweetheart; I just don’t have it in me right now to deal with your sister. Seeing her and talking to her would just make me miss you more and I’m just barely hanging on as it is. Maybe I’ll change our phone number. I mean my phone number. There is no “our” or “us” anymore since you had to leave and no amount of tears, begging, pleading, or bargaining will bring you back. It’s not fair. How could you leave me like this?

Loving and missing you,                                                                                                                                                                             Elliot

Dreams, The Ones You Have While Sleeping

The stars of my dream.

Along with this guy. WTF?

I think I have some pretty fucked dreams. Ever since I can remember, like since I was little, I’ve always had dreams of being chased by something. I’ve been chased by killer clowns, monsters, people, the aliens from Aliens, ect… I could go on for a fucking week. My dreams are pretty vivid too. I can taste, touch, and feel things, even pain. Lately I’ve been having crazy TV dreams. Like I have the TV on and I fall asleep to whatever is on. I’ve solved cases with Grissom and Brass from CSI regular, had a gun fight with Stella from CSI New York, busted a hooker with the black chick cop from Southland, tried to get into the pants of Starbuck, Apollo, and Helo from Battlestar Galactica, but the fracking Cylons kept attacking. That would’ve been one epic ménage cuatro. Fracking Cylons always ruining everyone’s fun. 

I could have had all three. :(

The other day I took a nap on the couch while Burn Notice was on and had a full on Burn Notice dream, but without Jesse. I didn’t even miss him. It starts in a movie theater and ends in one. I’m at the movies with me and Michael Westen’s kid. Yup we had a girl. Too bad I didn’t remember the conception. He and Fiona weren’t together anymore. Boo hoo. Some dude tries to kidnap our kid, who I just call baby. He fails, but the whole team shows up, Michael, Fiona, Sam, even Michael’s mom. The kidnapper gets the drop on us and kidnaps me, Michael and our kid. The kidnapper is none other than C. Thomas Howell in his Southland police uniform. In my dream he’s this bat shit crazy former spy who’s obsessed with Michael. He holds me and the kid hostage and forces Michael to go on this insane crime spree. C. Thomas is killing kids, kidnapping Dalmatians, robbing Dairy Queen, and all sorts of retarded things. C. Thomas is ridiculously nuts, singing, laughing at nothing, humping his car. You just had to be there. So we all somehow end up back at the movie theater where there is a big gun fight between Michael, Sam, and C. Thomas. Bam C. Thomas is dead. Michael has to wire $100,000 to the Russians to come clean up the mess. Then there’s a twist. Sam and his new girlfriend betray Michael and give him 24 hours to pay them $100,000 or they’re going to turn him into the FBI for his crimes. I wake up. You have to agree that is some weird ass business. Now I’ve never tried to have a TV dream on purpose, but I think next time I’m going to put on Farscape and hopefully have a 3 way with John Crichton and Aeryn Sun. I let you all know how it goes. Peace out homies. 

Hoping to be in the middle of a John and Aeryn sandwich  real soon.

Bitches Be Trippin. What's New?

Would you pay $162 for this polish? Yes? Then you're fuckin stupid!

Just when I think I’ve seen it all I get slapped upside my head and reminded that I most certainly have no. I have recently entered the world of nail polish and nail art. I’ve read some nail blogs to get ideas and learned a thing or two. One of those thing is bitches go bat shit crazy over nail polish like you would not fucking believe. Seriously you won’t believe it. I learned the existence of an online shop called LLarowe http://www.shop.llarowe.com/. They sell some fabulous, you don’t see every day, nail polish. I like them on my Facebook page and monitor them for sales and what not. They sell a brand called Lynnderella. I must admit Lynnderella has some fabulous shit, but it’s always sold the fuck out, but that’s no biggie since they shit is $15 a pop. I get queasy paying more then $8 for polish. I hop on to LLarowe to see if they will have any sales coming up. What the fuck do I find? Bitches going psy-fucking-chotic over this Lynnderella shit. Sure as shit the nail blogs I follow are talking about it too. There are actual hate groups devoted to hating LLarowe for not selling more Lynnderella. Lynnderella is a one woman show. Lynn makes and bottles the polish all by herself so it’s not super plentiful. That’s the way it goes twats, get the fuck over it, go to the store and by something else. Don’t start hate groups over the shit. Hate groups for fuck’s sake what the fuck is wrong with you people? I heard rumors that Lynnderella was going for ridiculous amounts of money. Out of curiosity I check it out. Sure as shit the stuff is selling anywhere $18 to $162.60. $162? Don’t believe me? Look here http://www.ebay.com/itm/New-Lynnderella-CONNECT-DOTS-Black-White-Glitter-VHTF-Nail-Polish-/110825183020?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item19cdb2172c#ht_585wt_905. Are you bitches retarded? You can’t think of anything better to spend your money on 1 bottle of nail polish. While you dumb cunts are pissing your dough away why not sling some my way? Or help some poor homeless or starving kid you stupid whore? I’m a pretty shallow bitch, but not that shallow. I do give cash to the homeless and starving so suck a dick bitches. Anyway here’s a little tutorial for all you bat shit crazy whores to make your own fabulous polish so you don’t have to send hate mail to people or spend stupid amounts of money on it.

 1.       First decide if you want to make a bottle of the shit or just enough for one use.

         2.       If it’s more than 1 procure some small glass bottles with tops and a decent artist’s brush.

         3.       Go to Walgreens, Walmart, or where the fuck ever and get a pallet of eye shadow to tint your polish if desired, a few bottles of clear NOT fast dry top coat, pure acetone remover (for cleaning up your shit), and paper cups to mix your shit.

         4.       Go to Jo-Ann’s or better yet Michael’s. Go to the Martha Steward section coz that bitch has some first class glitter and pick out the colors and shaped of the glitter you want. They also have some nifty ass non Martha glitter in the scrapbook section.

         5.       Go the fuck home.  Pour a little or all of one of the top coats into a cup. Use a dry artist’s brush to brush some eye shadow into polish until you get the desired tint. Dump in a little or a lot of various glitters. Mix that shit with something. Paint your stupid nail and pour it into a bottle to save for later.

         6.       Clean up after yourself twat. Nobody wants to see your mess.

       Yes it sounds like a bit of an ordeal, but look on the bright side, you don’t have to go all nuts when you can’t get Lynnderella, you’ll save a shit load of dough, and you can make whatever fucking color chokes your chicken. So that’s the end of tonight rant. If one of you crazy bitches somehow stumble across this I’m so very, very, very sorry…you’re bat shit crazy. Grow up; get a life, or whatever. You annoy me. There I feel better now and that’s all that counts.