So here is what really chaps my ass....
straglers, rompers, beggers, whatever you want to call them.
We have all seen them, we pull in our neighborhood and you see a neighbor standing outside their door like they would rather be shot than standing there listening to these two goons go on for the next 15-30 minutes about only GOD knows what. You go inside, close the blinds and try to avoid them. Somehow they just don't care. Let me go ahead and tell you now, if you selling something I'm not buying it, if your preaching something don't bother. My father is a preacher and if I haven't heard it from him I'm sure I can ask him on my own dam time.
So tonight two half witted looking young men knock on my door. No, normally I dont answer unexpected knocks. However the knock sounded familiar (yes I know, 'how the hell do you know a familiar knock from an unfamiliar' trust me I do). So I open the door and say YES? and the first thing out of their mouths are "Are you the lady of teh house?" My first response wants to be, well you saw me walk in the house with my 7 year old daughter and unload groceries from my car so What the hell do you think dimwit? But because my daughter is in the kitchen I refrain from being mouthy. I look at them and simple state I am busy with homework and they start stuttering something and I slam my door.
First thought is these two young men were probably going to ask me to contribute to some stupid fucking fund that they have created for idiotic people to believe in them. Help put them through college or send them to a summer camp. Well HELL NO, no one helped me when I needed money for college, I never got to go on Spring Break, or for that matter even have a Senior Trip. If I would have known then what I know now "which is some people are just fucking gullible" I would have been out in every neighborhood I knew knocking on doors making up some sad sob story just so I could get money. Yes, do some of these children have good intentions? Yes I think some do, I know a few church children that didn't come from the best of families and the only way for them to get money to go on a church trip would be to ask. I just find humor that kids these days get to knock on doors and ask for contributions and the fucked up part, is it works for about 80% of them. I am just like REally What the hell? What happened to good ole earned money. The 60 seconds these boys were standing at my door stuttering and mumbling they could have been flipping a hamburger, making a taco, or for crying out loud bussing some dam tables. Hell you could have been making probably $6.00 an hour instead of standing in my doorway irritating the hell out of me and getting not jack shit from me.Go get a job kids. I had to get a job when I was 16, if I wanted a car, I paid for it, If i wanted designer clothes, guess what I had to pay for it. I have been working since I was 16 and anything that I really wanted that was nice, I had to get. So I could go on for hours about the rompers, the stragglers, the beggers, but I'll end with this. Don't knock on my door, because one day I will unleash hell on one of you and you are going to wish you hadn't knocked on my door. On that note, I will be getting a Peep Hole put in this weekend. LOL
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Her Fairytale
Today is filled full of tomorrow’s work
Simple life, simple love is all she said she would ever need.
She forgot and stopped to think that love was something real.
Simple pleasures and sweet gestures were all her heart ever desired.
Although she lied and never thought it out loud, this was all she ever needed.
She didn’t need a fancy ring, a big house, or a shiny car.
All she ever needed was love.
Tomorrow is full of yesterday’s past.
She had restless nights with tossing and turning, her heart such a mess and her mind in a scatter,
But once he came along, she soon forgot about the pain and emptiness.
What a life she thought she had, it seemed so complete and full,
But once he came along she saw she couldn’t go on without him
How had she ever truly lived without him was at much her dismay
Future of a lifetime
She didn’t know right at first that he would be the man that held her heart so tight
However she did know quickly that he was the one.
He was the first true love of her life
Where butterflies don’t end, and each kiss is a breath of fresh air
With every hug and every smile, her heart flutters as if it was hummingbirds’ wings.
Each laugh and each frown, she knew she would never be able to let this man go.
He carved his name in the middle of her heart and showed this woman that there was hope for a life for
of love and laughter after all.
Even though she never believed in silly girls’ and their fairytales,
He gave her, her very own fairytale
The fairytale of hope.
Simple life, simple love is all she said she would ever need.
She forgot and stopped to think that love was something real.
Simple pleasures and sweet gestures were all her heart ever desired.
Although she lied and never thought it out loud, this was all she ever needed.
She didn’t need a fancy ring, a big house, or a shiny car.
All she ever needed was love.
Tomorrow is full of yesterday’s past.
She had restless nights with tossing and turning, her heart such a mess and her mind in a scatter,
But once he came along, she soon forgot about the pain and emptiness.
What a life she thought she had, it seemed so complete and full,
But once he came along she saw she couldn’t go on without him
How had she ever truly lived without him was at much her dismay
Future of a lifetime
She didn’t know right at first that he would be the man that held her heart so tight
However she did know quickly that he was the one.
He was the first true love of her life
Where butterflies don’t end, and each kiss is a breath of fresh air
With every hug and every smile, her heart flutters as if it was hummingbirds’ wings.
Each laugh and each frown, she knew she would never be able to let this man go.
He carved his name in the middle of her heart and showed this woman that there was hope for a life for
of love and laughter after all.
Even though she never believed in silly girls’ and their fairytales,
He gave her, her very own fairytale
The fairytale of hope.
Lust and desire
Lizzie wants him in her bed. She wants to feel his touch. She wants Rory to make love to her like she has never wanted anyone to make love to her before. The way Rory touched her, the way he look at her, the way he kissed her has her mesmerized beyond any desires she could have ever imagined. Yet Lizzie is still confused on if this is truly Rory and if its really the way he feel or if this is just the way that he is with any woman. HIS arm, his accent, his guitar swooning abilities makes her heart beat and race not in her chest, but in her libido. His smile, his quirky way has Lizzie mesmerized. He has Lizzie in a trance, one that she cannot even explain. She has yearned for him since the 1st night they were together. She wants to feel Rory more, she wants to feel him inside of her, Lizzie wants to see if the sex would be as great as the kiss .Lizzie has dreamt every night about the sex with Rory and wake up every morning yearning for him while her panties are wet each morning. Her mind, body and her libido are mesmerized by him. She didn’t know it was possible, she didn’t know it could happen, but she has this unimaginable desire to be in his bed with Rory buried deep inside of her. .
blackness
She closes her eyes tight, she must sleep tonight.
She tries to clear her mind, she tries to not think.
But wait what was that, a tap? A scuffle on the floor? No she thinks to herself “I’m slowly loosing my mind with paranoia. “
She keeps her eyes closed, “I must stop this madness”, she must sleep.
But her mind is racing, her thoughts are taking over, she opens her eyes in the very dark room.
O shit, what is that in the corner of the room? A figure like shadow? No! she tells herself there is no way.
She is all alone, no one could be in here with her. She is frightened now, but not enough to move, speak, or look anymore.
She closes her eyes tight. Must stop the madness, clear her mind. She must sleep tonight.
She has almost reached serenity, then a shiver and wave of uncertainty flows through her body and shoots her straight up in the bed. She then opens here eyes and she knows now what she sees. It is him right in front of her, holding his arms out, he is reaching for her, but how can this be? she thinks. He is gone, I said goodbye to him, he died a few weeks back. She is so terrified she cannot move, the figure staring her straight in the eyes, but still she cant move, she cant speak, then he moves……
Blackness…………..
She awakes the next morning, vaguely remembering the night before.
Simply a fragment, a small detail of something unexplainable and clearly unlikely.
She goes along with her morning routine,
As leaving for the day, she notices something out of place, something that has not been seen since she was maybe 10 years old. A picture, not her picture, but a picture that was never in her possession.
Shivers………
She remembers, it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a fragment.
He was there last night in her room……..
Madness…….
She closes her eyes, she clears her mind, she opens the door. Her day will go on, and tonight she will sleep. She remembers the drugs in her purse that makes the madness go away and induce her sleep.
She tries to forget, however it will be back to remind her again one day.
Blackness…
Madness….
Shivers…..
She tries to clear her mind, she tries to not think.
But wait what was that, a tap? A scuffle on the floor? No she thinks to herself “I’m slowly loosing my mind with paranoia. “
She keeps her eyes closed, “I must stop this madness”, she must sleep.
But her mind is racing, her thoughts are taking over, she opens her eyes in the very dark room.
O shit, what is that in the corner of the room? A figure like shadow? No! she tells herself there is no way.
She is all alone, no one could be in here with her. She is frightened now, but not enough to move, speak, or look anymore.
She closes her eyes tight. Must stop the madness, clear her mind. She must sleep tonight.
She has almost reached serenity, then a shiver and wave of uncertainty flows through her body and shoots her straight up in the bed. She then opens here eyes and she knows now what she sees. It is him right in front of her, holding his arms out, he is reaching for her, but how can this be? she thinks. He is gone, I said goodbye to him, he died a few weeks back. She is so terrified she cannot move, the figure staring her straight in the eyes, but still she cant move, she cant speak, then he moves……
Blackness…………..
She awakes the next morning, vaguely remembering the night before.
Simply a fragment, a small detail of something unexplainable and clearly unlikely.
She goes along with her morning routine,
As leaving for the day, she notices something out of place, something that has not been seen since she was maybe 10 years old. A picture, not her picture, but a picture that was never in her possession.
Shivers………
She remembers, it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a fragment.
He was there last night in her room……..
Madness…….
She closes her eyes, she clears her mind, she opens the door. Her day will go on, and tonight she will sleep. She remembers the drugs in her purse that makes the madness go away and induce her sleep.
She tries to forget, however it will be back to remind her again one day.
Blackness…
Madness….
Shivers…..
Marked
His hands were around her neck, her arms flying violently, trying to push him off. The anger and hatred in his eyes as he strangled her tiny dainty neck were monstrous and looked as if the devil was controlling his body. She couldn’t defend herself as her last breath began to wither until she fell to the ground like a wet noodle. When she came to she was on the bathroom floor. Where was he, o God, she hoped and prayed he didn’t have the gun that night. She crawled to her daughter’s room where she was still so peaceful and never woke up. She was shocked the cops hadn’t been called from the neighbors below or beside them. How she hoped the cops were coming to save her. To take this asshole away. How could someone so small be so strong and strike a woman so hard. The next morning the marks around her neck said it all. This was it she thought, I will take no more. She went along with her day, took her daughter to school and took a personal day. Where was she going to go with these bruises around her neck. She decided this was it, he would no longer push her around, throw things in her face, scream and curse her very living. She was done and now he was going to pay . She knew what time to expect him home, the bastard, the inhumane being that called himself a man. So late lunch would be ready, she would act as if she were sorry like she always had done, He was somehow a great manipulator at making her think she was the one to blame. That if she would have kept her mouth shut she wouldn’t wind up with the bruises or the marks. So she played along this day. This would however be the last day that she did. She made his favorite dish, Crusted Parmesan Chicken. However she added two special ingredients that day, she would not have this attempt fail, it had to be hundred proof. While making the batter for the chicken she added crushed aspirin and rat poison, more than enough to kill an elephant. She prepared the food just as she normally does. Coating each piece of chicken in the parmesan, eggs, and now the aspirin and rat poison, He would never know. As he arrived, he said No I’m sorry, o wow thank you for cooking, nothing. She told him she was leaving early to go to the library for school and then would pick up their daughter and would be back in a few hours. He thought nothing of it. As she left she told him goodbye and that she loved him , knowing that when she saw him again, he would be a corpse and that made her smile. She left the aspirin and the rat poison in the bathroom counter. So when she called the cops they would see that he had probably overdosed. He was a raging alcoholic and had already had a drink before he even arrived home. The cops would merely think he drank too much and decided to take the aspirin and took the rat poison by mistake. As she drove out of the parking lot that day a sense of relief came over here, the marks on her neck no longer ached as they would be the last marks he ever put on her. He would be gone. Her life would begin, she would be safe and her daughter would no longer cry because daddy was hitting mommy. Free she was. Marked no longer.
Granny
But I will always say what I feel and mean what I say
However the words that I chose may not be those of delicate definitions.
I don’t think before I speak and I almost always stick my foot in my mouth at least once a day.
I’m a foul mouth woman with lots to say, but nothing too strenuous, nothing of much concern.
I think in spurts and once my mind starts I’m stuck with thoughts rambling around and making me think more than I should or more than I ought.
I over analyze almost any important conversation and will worry myself until I’ve talked it out.
I sometimes forget the woman I wanted to be, who she was, where she went, or if I was really ever a woman at all.
But when I feel weak and began to lose control, I remember my granny and how she was the toughest woman I knew.
No one could hold her down; she never slowed down not even when the cancer struck her. Fancy rings, long dangly earrings, 3 holes in each ear and a pretty antique diamond rings decorated her old arthritic hands.
Piss Ant she called from as far back as I could remember and when my world came tumbling in and she wasn’t there to guide me, I felt the strength from within that I had gained from her. She pushed me and told me it was ok, that I could do it, I didn’t need no man.” Hell I did it for years and I did just fine”, is what I could hear her say as if she was standing here today.
Cowboy boots and country line dancing was what that old mean bag was about. She cursed and she yelled and she always wrapped our presents in comic newspapers. This woman alone is why I’m not ashamed of my mouth. I am this woman, more than anyone else, and losing her was the hardest thing in my life.
Hard women, maybe that’s what we are, granny and I. Too mean to be nice, but really too kind or gentle for our own damn self. So we just curse, drink, and smoke and do everything an ideal woman’s not suppose to do.
Granny wasn’t a complex woman and always said what she meant and never gave a damn if it hurt your feelings or anyone else for that matter.
I realize now I started this off writing about myself , when really all I was writing about was that wonderfully mean old woman who I called Granny for 20 something years. And I remembered how much being her piss ant was the best dam thing in the world.
Just a little Rant, What I like to call Rachel's Perspective
Rachel’s perspective on things
I laugh a lot at other people expense at least once a day.
Yes this is wrong, but we all do I just have the balls to admit that I do.
So I see pictures of girls/women/whores/hookers whatever name you prefer to call them letting men grab on their books, lick on their chest and I’m just like WTF really?
Am I saying that I’ve never done this, no I am not, however when this was done and it was normally not men groping me, merely close girlfriends being silly I did not post these pictures for the public eye to see.
One day you will wake up and be like wtf was I seriously doing and is this how people are going to remember me? Because let me tell you that when I see these pictures, it is not as if I’m getting a certain positive outlook on your or your life.
I noticed this one day while bored at work and scanning through random people’s pictures who are fucking dumb enough to not have their profile or pictures set to private, which yet alone is yelling I want or need attention to live my pathetic excuse for a life. After scanning through quite a few pictures I thought to myself , shit I have some stupid pictures that I have posted on my stupid facebook wall and I’m sure the friends that don’t know me closely must have thought that I was a bit on the wild side and not someone they should really respect. So this started my process of weaving through my photo albums, unfortunately there are quite a few. I once was a photo whore. I am slowly weeding out the pictures I feel inappropriate for public display, even though only my friends can see these pictures, not all friends are really close friends. I am a mother and a hard ass working woman, so I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about me. I am more than a picture; I’m much deeper than anyone could ever know.
Back to my rant, girls if you let a man grab your boobs while drunk or lick on your chest, chances are he thinks you are a whore and would never respect you number one much less take your ass out on a date. Come on girls, you have a brain , I promise, if you will dig past all your hair and makeup you might see that just being the real you could actually work and you could still have fun without looking like a ridiculous girl or even a whore.
Girls, seems to be the main rant that I have here, because surely no women go around doing this. Although I have to say I am ashamed to say that I have ran across some female UNPRIVATE profiles ( yet again let me say dumbasses) that are old enough to be my mother dressed like skanks and out in bars all the time. I feel that I cracked my true shell about 6 months ago and woman hood as finally came out in me. Just because I have a 7 year old that never made me a woman. My thoughts, views, and perspective on the way I viewed myself seemed to change and then I thought that if my views and values go up then I have to keep this going. Many will see my photo whoring days have really came to a stop, I no longer upload 50 photos at a time of one outing. This was just ridiculous. I love pictures, please don’t get me wrong, photography is another passion of mine, and I believe every picture is worth keeping you’re your own reasons, but this doesn’t mean that you have to share them with everyone on your page.
So my rant as gone everywhere at this point and I’m not really sure that I accomplished the rant that I set out to accomplish. None the less, girls stop being tramps, respect yourself more. No man will ever respect a female that goes around letting everyman in the bar touch her and grope her in public eye. Get it together girls, we come to a point in our life where we must grow up and crack that dam shell of womanhood. So embrace it , don’t fight it. Find one man and let him feel upon you at your home or in private not in the public eye, because if I see you I guarantee you that I will talk about you and pass judgment on you. Its kind of hard not to.
I laugh a lot at other people expense at least once a day.
Yes this is wrong, but we all do I just have the balls to admit that I do.
So I see pictures of girls/women/whores/hookers whatever name you prefer to call them letting men grab on their books, lick on their chest and I’m just like WTF really?
Am I saying that I’ve never done this, no I am not, however when this was done and it was normally not men groping me, merely close girlfriends being silly I did not post these pictures for the public eye to see.
One day you will wake up and be like wtf was I seriously doing and is this how people are going to remember me? Because let me tell you that when I see these pictures, it is not as if I’m getting a certain positive outlook on your or your life.
I noticed this one day while bored at work and scanning through random people’s pictures who are fucking dumb enough to not have their profile or pictures set to private, which yet alone is yelling I want or need attention to live my pathetic excuse for a life. After scanning through quite a few pictures I thought to myself , shit I have some stupid pictures that I have posted on my stupid facebook wall and I’m sure the friends that don’t know me closely must have thought that I was a bit on the wild side and not someone they should really respect. So this started my process of weaving through my photo albums, unfortunately there are quite a few. I once was a photo whore. I am slowly weeding out the pictures I feel inappropriate for public display, even though only my friends can see these pictures, not all friends are really close friends. I am a mother and a hard ass working woman, so I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about me. I am more than a picture; I’m much deeper than anyone could ever know.
Back to my rant, girls if you let a man grab your boobs while drunk or lick on your chest, chances are he thinks you are a whore and would never respect you number one much less take your ass out on a date. Come on girls, you have a brain , I promise, if you will dig past all your hair and makeup you might see that just being the real you could actually work and you could still have fun without looking like a ridiculous girl or even a whore.
Girls, seems to be the main rant that I have here, because surely no women go around doing this. Although I have to say I am ashamed to say that I have ran across some female UNPRIVATE profiles ( yet again let me say dumbasses) that are old enough to be my mother dressed like skanks and out in bars all the time. I feel that I cracked my true shell about 6 months ago and woman hood as finally came out in me. Just because I have a 7 year old that never made me a woman. My thoughts, views, and perspective on the way I viewed myself seemed to change and then I thought that if my views and values go up then I have to keep this going. Many will see my photo whoring days have really came to a stop, I no longer upload 50 photos at a time of one outing. This was just ridiculous. I love pictures, please don’t get me wrong, photography is another passion of mine, and I believe every picture is worth keeping you’re your own reasons, but this doesn’t mean that you have to share them with everyone on your page.
So my rant as gone everywhere at this point and I’m not really sure that I accomplished the rant that I set out to accomplish. None the less, girls stop being tramps, respect yourself more. No man will ever respect a female that goes around letting everyman in the bar touch her and grope her in public eye. Get it together girls, we come to a point in our life where we must grow up and crack that dam shell of womanhood. So embrace it , don’t fight it. Find one man and let him feel upon you at your home or in private not in the public eye, because if I see you I guarantee you that I will talk about you and pass judgment on you. Its kind of hard not to.
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