Wednesday, May 30, 2007

May 31st - My Personal Memorial Day

I have alluded to the fact that I had a somewhat difficult time growing up. Tomorrow I will be in mourning for the one person that was my savior and champion throughout those difficult years – my grandmother.

While I am now, as an adult, able to have a meaningful relationship with my dad and mom (biological and step), I did not have that opportunity while I was growing up. I lived with my egg donor and stepfather from the age of four (when the original set of parents split up) until I was seventeen. Throughout that period, I moved over twenty different times, lived in ten states and another country and attended a legion of schools. The original cast of me and my sister was increased by two half-sisters and a half-brother as well as two step-sisters from my dad’s new marriage. (This is the last time you will hear me refer to any of my siblings as half or step. Love and not blood means more to me in any relationship and I feel that they deserve more from me than to demean our closeness – or sometimes lack thereof – with abbreviated titles like step and half) I was sometimes neglected and often abused by people who were supposed to love and guide me. I do not say this as a person with a bitter childhood, but as a responsible adult who knows the difference between discipline and abuse.

The ONLY reason I made it through those horrible years was due to the love and guidance that was given to me by my maternal grandmother. Mary Thelma Virginia Smith was the greatest person that I have ever had the opportunity to know and love and be loved by in return. Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of her passing and there are still days that I wake up and think about calling her just to hear her voice and laugh. In my mind, her death was a travesty bought on by neglect and abuse and I will forever regret not moving sooner to make a change in her life.

You see, my grandmother and I lived together for almost my entire life. Even into adulthood, we lived together. She helped me care for my child, as I was a single parent, and I worked two and sometimes three jobs to pay the bills and put myself through school. When I married my husband (tomorrow will be four years – she passed away on my wedding anniversary), we got her an apartment and I helped to pay the bills so that she would be able to keep it. In the years previous to this change, she had some serious health problems, but we were taking her to the Cleveland Clinic and she seemed to be getting better.

Then, out of the blue, my grandmother called me as I was driving home from work and told me that she decided to move in with her daughter (my egg donor) and that she was leaving that evening. I was shocked to say the least. I walked over to her apartment – she was close by – and my real mother, who I had not seen or spoken to in years, was there with her husband and some of their friends and they were packing my grandmother’s stuff into a moving can. The egg donor did not say one word to me the entire time my husband and I were there. It wasn’t until after she moved that my grandmother explained to me that she felt as if she was keeping me from having my own family while I was so worried about her and that her daughter promised to care for her and take her to her doctor’s appointments that she would now have at John Hopkins.

The devotion and fawning that her daughter displayed was just a ruse. Once she had my grandmother ensconced in her house, watching my siblings, cooking and cleaning for them and paying rent, she and her husband would pack up and take off for months at a time. My grandmother would have to pay other people to take her to the doctor or ride a special bus when she was able. Once my siblings were old enough and moved out, she was often left alone for very long periods of time. In addition to having heart problems, she had a very rare lung disease that made her prone to pneumonia and she also had diabetes. I was extremely angry when I found out about this, but at the time, there was not much I could do. She was in Maryland and I was in Ohio and I had just gotten married, finished school and started a new family. I did not have the means to bring her back to Ohio at that time.

Last winter, she came for a visit and I was horrified by the stories that she was telling me. The way she was being treated by her own family shocked and horrified me, but I should not have been surprised as I know these people and they only think about themselves and their desires without a care for what is happening to others around them. While she was with us, my grandma got pneumonia and ended up in the hospital. After she recovered and returned to Maryland, my husband and I talked about it and decided that since we had moved into a much bigger house and we both had established careers that we would move her back in with us. We set the date for June, but did not say anything to my grandmother for a couple of reasons. One, we wanted to make sure that we could get an exact date set and two, my grandmother was so disgusted by her daughter that if she got mad enough, she would tell her off and we would need to go earlier than expected to move her. So we waited and came up with a weekend in June to move her in with us. Our three year wedding anniversary was on May 31st and we had planned to go away for the weekend and then tell her about the move. On May 31st, 2006 I received a phone call while standing in line at Costco. It was my egg donor. She called me to tell me that my grandmother had passed away and I broke down in the middle of the store.

I won’t go into details about the funeral and the sick behavior of some of the people I have the misfortune to be related to, but I will tell you that I have completely severed all ties with my “mother” and stepfather. They knowingly left a very sick person alone for over two weeks – she had just gotten out of the hospital after another bout with pneumonia. These people treat their dogs better than they treated the woman that raised and clothed their five children. I almost hoped that they would go to jail on some type of neglect charges, but there was no way to prove it by that time.

However, I will say this: I do believe in God and in Heaven and Hell. Some people choose to believe in other deities and some choose not to believe at all and that is fine by me – I am the last person who should be judging others. But that belief is deep seated and abiding and while I am not open and blatant about my spirituality, it is there and was taught to me by the smartest woman I have ever known. She may have only had an eighth grade education, but she was the best person in the whole world and she loved me more than anything and kept me from ending my own life more times than I care to count – no one ever knew about this. That belief gives me some hope about a final judgment for people who absolutely deserve to rot in hell. Whether it is on this earth, or in another plane of existence, I truly hope that those responsible for my grandmother’s death end up getting ass fucked with pitchforks in Hell. (My grandmother would be appalled at my evil thoughts and maybe I will learn forgiveness in time, but I don’t have that enlightenment right now – I am still very angry)

To the woman who taught me everything I ever needed to know to get through life I have this to say:

I love you still and miss you every single day. Sometimes I can close my eyes and see you and I ache in a special place in my heart. I regret that I did not do something sooner to ease your burden and I feel a terrible guilt that you died alone and scared without anyone to hold your hand. I can’t wait until the day that I see you again and I hurt because my youngest child will never get to know you. I miss you so much, but I know that because of your love I am a stronger woman than I ever would have been without it.

Thank you,
ADW

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

I'm Baaaaack!!!

OK. So I really heart going back to Maryland. I grew up in the area on and off during my younger years and it always feels really good to go back "home". I had tons of fun and completely turned my soon to be four-years-old niece into a potential felon, but I will post about that later.

I just want to now give the folowing insights on certain drivers:

1. Maryland/DC/Virginia Driver (from the tri-area) - these folks are not mean, or reckless, but they like to drive FAST people - get out of their way. I am used to 55 mph speed limits in the Cleveland Plus (more about that in the future) metro area, but it does not work like that back home. I was in the "fast" lane on 270 North out of DC and we were doing 85 to keep up with traffic. The Slow Lane was going about 77 mph.

2. PA drivers are assholes Period. Fucking pricks. Plus there are Falling Rocks everywhere and I like nothing better than being tailgated while driving 80 miles an hour through mountains. I hope the cocksucker in the POS white Ford flew off the mountain and his truck blew up in a massive, glorious explosion. That shitfuck almost ran me off of the road.

3. OH - speed up fuckers. I want to get home. Once I enter OH it is the homestretch of my trip and the speed limit on the turnpike is 65. Do you know what that means people? It means that they don't even bother pulling you over unless you are going over 75, so step on it- I want to sleep in my bed before the sun comes up in the morning grandpa!!

An Ode to the Ohio State Flower

You come in the Spring,
and leave in the Fall.
Your lovely Orange color,
a beacon to all.

A rare bloom is our lady,
she grows in strange places.
Like roadsides and medians,
berms, drives and pavements.

With stripes down her sides,
a reflector on top,
Where the flower springs up,
traffic comes to a stop.

Oh yes, many believe that our flower
is a carnation.
It is not nor it should be,
to our eternal damnation.

No the state flower is ever lovely,
but could be your peril.
The wonderful, dangerous,
ethereal Orange Barrel.











Wednesday, May 23, 2007

On The Road Again - Maryland Bound

Woot, woot!!!

I'm a comin' to Maryland. My baby sister is having a baby of her own and I am driving down to the MD to be with her tomorrow.

I frigging love Maryland. I used to live in Maryland. I can't find a hotel to save my life that is not a fortune because of the holiday weekend.

If anyone is in the Rockville to Frederick spread, give me the scoop on good hotels.

I need the following amenities:
1. Decent Neighborhood
2. Pool
3. Internet Connection

That's it people - I'm pretty simple and I would also like the hotel to cost less than 2 freaking hundred bucks a night. I love my sis, but not that much.

She is expelling her loin fruit at a Hospital in Rockville, but lives in the Frederick area along with a lot of my family, hence the wide area where I can stay in a hotel.

Suggestions, anybody?

Also, any other suggstions on food, shopping and entertainment would be appreciated as well. One of my other sisters is driving up from Va Beach on Saturday AM, and since this is a "family-less" weekend, we may imbibe upon a few alcoholic beverages.

Watch out Cabana Boys!!!

Just kidding honey (=

ADW

Monday, May 21, 2007

A Great Big Fuck You

SEARS

You motherfucking corporate giant pain in the fucking ass cocksuckers.

People, if you do only one thing for me EVER, DO NOT BUY ONE MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT FROM SEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot believe the shit that those assholes are putting me through.

This is the deal:

We bought a house almost two years ago and purchased our appliances through Sears. For some reason, they opened up TWO accounts in our name and double charged us for a fraction of the purchase on the second account. We have spent the last TWENTY-TWO fucking months trying to straighten this shit out to no avail. We have sent them numerous copies of the receipts. We have sent all of the letters that they requested. We have talked to no less than 463 different fucking people from Sears, CitiBank (they sold the account) and now a collection agency. NO ONE HAS DONE ONE FUCKING THING ABOUT THIS AND I AM FUCKING PISSED PEOPLE.

I get 17 calls a day on my cell phone - I have no idea how they got that number - and each time it is a different person and they tell me that they are taking notes about the issue and they will no longer contact us. Guess what??? They call back a pissfucktarding hour later and I want to strangle someone through the phone.

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK

I am at my wits end and I really didn't have much wit(s) to begin with. I hate dealing with this, but what I hate even more is knowing that this issue is affecting my credit score and I worked my ass off to pay off a shitload of debt. Fuck that I say.

I feel like I am being hassled by this bullshit crock of elephant turds and I am seriously considering taking legal action. I mean there are laws out there that protect honest consumers like me, aren't there?

Legal Eagle, help me out here, what should I do? We are being harassed over a debt that wasn't ours to begin with and I absolfuckinglutely refuse to pay one cent to them that I do not owe, including interest and late fees on this amount that we were double charged for.

I'll say it again: FUCK YOU SEARS, you GIANT PIECE OF COCKSUCKING CUNTINESS. I FUCKING HATE YOU AND YOUR CORPORATE "WE NEVER MAKE A FUCKING MISTAKE" CULTURE.

Kiss my ass, you will never see another dime from me.

FUCK YOU,
ADW

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Oh Shit, My Parents..

may be embarrassing me. I did not think that this was possible as pretty much nothing embarrasses me anymore - I worked at Hooters!!! Duh.

So I called my mom (stepmom - long story) for Mother's Day and she and my father were driving from Georgia to Gettysburg with my grandparents (step-maternal). My dad answered the phone and sounded semi-suicidal which is justifiable, since my Grandma loves to bust my dad's balls at any given opportunity and he had been stuck in a car with her for the last 12 hours. So I did what any loving daughter would do, I laughed. Hysterically. Seriously, for like 5 minutes I couldn't stop cracking up because the visual of Grandma P in the backseat fucking with EVERYONE for half a day was just too much.

When I finally stopped laughing, dad put mom on the phone and I wished her a happy M-day. We chatted for a while and then I talked to Grandma P, blah blah, blah.

The next morning, I get a message from my mom on my cell phone. She was like "ADW, you will never believe what your father and I did, call me when you get a minute." Since I wasn't sure whether this little incident happened before or after I talked to my mom - hell it could have happened the previous year with the way they are forgetting shit - I didn't call her back until later that evening.

So I finally get a hold of the folks and my mom forgot why she called me in the first place. After some discussion with my dad and grandparents, she finally remembers why she called. They got kicked out of the restaurant they went to the evening before.

The Fuck???

Seriously, my parents - and subsequently the grandparents, got kicked out of an eating establishment.

The reason?

The host accused my mom of being drunk and making a scene.

My parents' excuse?

They say that the waitress was very rude to them and threw silverware at them. When they complained, the host accused my mom of being drunk and beligerant.

My take...

Yup. I can totally see my folks pounding down a couple of bottles of wine and pushing their waitress too far. Sometimes I think that if I was waiting on them, I would throw knives as well. I thought that I had trained them to behave better than that. You would think that after working in the service industry for over a decade, my parents would have figured out what passes as acceptable behavior. Apparently, they have not.

You see, my dad is a retired Command Master Chief, US Navy. He totally reminds me of Robert De Niro in "Men of Honor". Seriously, he spouts this kind of shit off all the time:

Billy Sunday: My name is Master Chief Billy Sunday. There was a preacher by the same name who cleaned up Chicago of all the whoring xxxx, drunken xxx and motherfucking xxxxxx that was making that place unfit for decent folks to live. The only difference between me and that old preacher is that he worked for God, and I *am* God!

OK, not exactly the same, since he doesn't use the racial slurs, but you mostly get the idea.

My dad also likes to say things like:
"Pain is vastly underestimated as a positive motivator."
"You deserve what you tolerate."

And other such shit.

Anyway, the point is, my dad will fuck with anyone, anywhere, at anytime and doesn't give a shit who it is or what they do. Maybe that is where I get my brass balls and irreverence. Probably. But I can totally see him fucking with a waitress, not meaning any harm by it, and having his jokes taken the wrong way.

No matter what, I won't know what really happened until I talk to my Poppa. My parents will each have their own story and Grandma P will most likely take whatever side is the opposite of my dad's. But Poppa, he is the quiet one. He will observe and wait in any situation. But when someone asks his opinion, that is the one that is usually right.

I'll just have to call him up secret-like in a week or so and get the full scoop.

Until then, I am left with the vision of my parents being forcefully escorted from the PennsylTucky Dutchhaus after too much Gew├╝rztraminer.

Ha!
ADW

Friday, May 11, 2007

I Hate Grape Pop

Actually I love grape pop - Shasta (McNasty) is the best. But Sean, well Sean hates grape pop, he says that it tastes like medicine.

Sean is what I like to call an irregular, as opposed to a regular in restaurant vernacular. He was a Hooters customer who came in at least 3 times a week and sat in my very good friend BBS's section (BBS stands for Built like a Brick Shithouse - the girl is fucking amazing). Sean is one of those people who are a "little" off. He is not quite Rainman material, but he is not normal either.

I saw Sean this week. Randomly. Walking through the mall.

So I called BBS to tell her and this is the conversation that took place:

ADW - Hey BBS what's up?
BBS - Can I call you back, my kid is trying to run into the street.
ADW - Sure, I just wanted to let you know that I just saw Sean - I hate Grape Pop Sean - at the mall.
BBS - What? Did you talk to him?
ADW - Fuuuuuuuck No!!!
BBS - OK, I'll call you back.

3o minutes later:

ADW - Hello?
BBS - It's me.
ADW - What's up?
BBS - I can't believe you saw Sean, what does he look like?
ADW - Cuba Gooding Junior, but you can tell he is a little bit...... off.
BBS - Was he wearing his normal outfit?
ADW - Yeah, he had a T-shirt tucked into jeans with tennis shoes and a baseball hat on.
BBS- I wonder how he got to the mall, there is no way he has a driver's license.
ADW - Well we do have busses.
BBS - I guess so.
BBS - I bet the people living at my old address still get mail for me from him...

OK - so you get the gist of the conversation. I totally forgot that Sean used to stalk BBS. Seriously, stalk her. Can I just say that there is nothing scarier than knowing that someone is following your moves and trying to figure out where you will be at any given time with the express purpose of seeing you.

Now I don't think Sean had it in him to be a dangerous stalker, but you never know about that kind of thing. When I think back on it I can recall quite a few times when BBS was blatently mean to him, just to get him to leave her alone, but it never worked. When Hooters closed, he used to send her things in the mail - no one knows how he got her address. The last time Sean tried to contact her, he told her that he was going to stop by her house to see her. BBS moved not long after that and has not heard from him since.

But, good old Sean was the source of some amusement for us. He used to come up with the most random statements at the worst possible times. He would stop you in the middle of a lunch rush when you had a full section, food in the window and a bus tub to run, just to tell you that he ate a candy bar the night before, but it had too many nuts in it to taste really good. AND - he would say the exact same thing to everyone in the place over and over again. He would sit at BBS's table and stare at her or HOURS at a time. After a while, we all started to feel sorry for Sean, but we could not help but be amused by his antics. He would tell outrageous lies like he was a DJ/Bouncer for a very expensive Gentleman's Club downtown - Ha! No way in hell. He had three jobs and made insane amounts of money - Uh Huh.

But the best thing that Sean EVER said was the following statement that he made on our busiest day of the year - One he felt he had to stop BBS for in the middle of a home Browns vs. Steelers football game when we had people standing up eating, using the cigarette machine as a table (we were fucking shit slammed):

In his cadence:
BBBSSSSSSSS...
What Sean?
I.
Hate.
Grape.
Poooooooooooooooopppppppp.
It.
Tastes.
Like.
Meh-Dee-Sun.

BBS -
Sean.
Are.
You.
Fucking.
Kidding.
Me.

Then she walks away and Sean tells everyone else about his hatred of grape pop.

Maybe you had to know Sean, but seeing him brought back that story. Whenever I see grape pop, I think of him. It's weird the effect that some people have on you. I guess I'll never forget him - and he still probably thinks that he is BBS's boyfriend.

BBS - I am sure that I left some things out - feel free to fill them in for me on the comments page.

Happy Friday.

P.S. "Take off your shirt, it will make you feel better about yourself"
quote taken from BBS during a double shift at the Alces Azul

ADW

Monday, May 7, 2007

Enough is Enough

The lovely Miss Britt had a post on her blog today that made me think. Since this doesn't happen often, I would like to elaborate on what went on in my head today.

Britt's post was a question/answer for a woman whose boyfriend was getting out of jail after he violated a restraining order she had against him. She wanted to know if she should take him back.

Seriously? Seriously.

If you want the full story, hop on over to her blog and then come back.

Anyway, I posted the following:

All I can say is: Oh Wow, right on!!!

Well that is not all I can say…

I grew up with an abusive step-parent. I even had my “mother” - while taking me to the freaking ER after he hit me with a 2×4 beg me, crying, not to tell anyone what had really happened.

If you are reading this post - question asker - THINK ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN. There is no way that you should ever put them in that position.

Here is a question that you need to ask yourself:
“Would I rather be with this man now, or would I rather have my 3 children grow up to hate my guts?”

I am telling you right now, with 100% certainty, that will be what happens (Or something even worse) if you let this guy back into your life.

And if you decide that it is more important that you are with him at this time, then I hope children services takes your kids away you stupid fucking cunt.

I think that the question poser had a problem with my response because she countered with this:

ADW - I apreciate your kind thoughts. However someone in my position who has to ask for advise is not someone who is stupid, remember there are no stupid questions. Fucking cunt would have been just fine.


Breath. Breath deeply and breath calmly.

I feel for this person and her situation, but I still think that the question was stupid. It never should have been posed because there is only one answer.

Anyway, her question brought to mind a lot of the shit that I went through growing up. We won't get into the full of it right now, but suffice it to say it was not an easy time. I had it better than some, but worse than most.

I went out with an old friend who was in town from Maryland this weekend and that made me think of my childhood as well. I had not seen him in over a decade and we were sweethearts once upon a time. I was fourteen and he was sixteen when we started dating. He cheated on me and my heart was broken. I was devastated and inconsolable. But I realize now, looking back on everything, that I was pinning a lot on this adolescent relationship. I was in a horrible situation in my home life and I had this guy who seemed to be crazy about me. (This is all in perspective to me now, since I was so very young at the time.) I think that I saw in him a way out of my misery. Even if it was only holding hands when we walked to class, or stealing kisses at football games, that relationship opened my eyes to a new world. One where you aren't wondering where the next hit will come from. One where someone cares about you and doesn't make fun of you or call you stupid and worthless. This kid was my way out of that awful life and then it was over in the blink of an eye.

Now for all of those who know me now, you are wondering why he is still alive. The truth is, the blame really wasn't on him. I placed that relationship so high on a pedestal, there was nowhere for it to go but down. We were children who had no idea what it is to love someone for real. For all the good shit and bad shit that comes along. Plus I wouldn't put out....

We stayed friends, even after we broke up. I cared about him too much not to have a relationship with him. We even went to his senior prom together, since he didn't have a girlfriend at the time. Then time passed and we lost touch and I didn't see or hear from him until about six months ago.

Now here we are, fourteen years later and I still see in him the sweet, wonderful boy that he was back then. We had a few drinks, a lot of laughs over old times and took in the De La Hoya/Mayweather fight this weekend. He is a wonderful father with a great wife and a good life and I would never wish anything else for him. I have two beautiful children and a pretty good guy myself and I am happier than I ever thought I had the right to be.

In some ways, he changed my life in the time we spent together. He made me realize that I deserved more out of this world than what I had at the time. I went out and got that more.

To my first love, I have to say:
"Thank you for seeing in me what noone else did at the time. Thank you for opening my eyes and making me realize that I could have so much more out of life. Thank you for giving me my first, sweet taste of love. I forgave you a long time ago and when I thought of you in the past, it was about the good times, not the bad. That is the key to telling how positive of an effect you had on me."

I know this post started out on a different topic, but there was a purpose to that. Love is not cruel, it does not hurt you, it does not hit you and call you names and make you feel worthless. I don't want to get into the details of my childhood at this time, but if there is anyone out there reading this who is either abused or an abuser, I have one piece of advice:

Get professional help. There are people out there who are well trained on how to help in every situation imaginable. Your children love you and you are the example they see day in and day out. Stop and think about this - do you want to see your child in the situation you are in right now when they grow up? Scary isn't it?

To those who prey on the weak and the small - I hope you die a slow and painful death. Then, when your rotting corpse lay in the ground, I hope a pack of wolves dig up your skull and a Sasquatch finds it and fucks you in both eye sockets.

I'm still fucked up and dealing with my issues - obviously. Thanks to those of you who read this post. I know that it probably won't change anything, but I got a little torqued up when I read that woman's question.

Love,
ADW

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Quit Fucking With Me...

OK - so this is my big fuck you to everyone and everything today:

FUCK YOU - stomach, the flames of wasabi you keep shooting out of my ass leaves me feeling violated, raw and in dire need of vaseline.

FUCK YOU - drunk redneck, who was fighting with his boss in the middle of the bar last night. That is a sure fire one way ticket back to Alabama son.

FUCK YOU - to people who think I don't know how to do my job.

FUCK YOU - to the guy that keeps telling me that he "wishes I were a hot chick, then I would have an easier time selling". Fuck you dumbass. Being a woman in this industry is extremely difficult. Having my coworkers assume that the only reason I am good at what I do is because I give out free blow jobs is unacceptable - Blow Jobs are free you shit. FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU!!!!!

If I gave head for every sale I got in the last six months, I would have fucking lockjaw. My lips would fall off and my teeth would rot out of my mouth.

FUCK YOU - for the "*nudge, nudge, @wink, wink*" elbow about my "special" relationship with one of my vendors. Yes we have a relationship, we have been business associates and then friends for four years now. Does that mean I am fucking him? No. It. Does. Not.

We help each other out. I make his job easier and he makes mine easier. If I had a fucking dick hanging in between my legs, there would be no snarky comments or sly insinuations about us. If I were a dude, we'd just be buddies. Well FUCK YOU!!

In case you can't tell, I am more pissed off than when I broke my ass at Hooters. The fuck of it all is the guy that is pulling this shit doesn't even realize what he is saying, or the effect that it has on me. It is kind of a running joke with some of my engineers and they are in on it, but he is not. He is a very successful salesperson and I respect him immensely, but he has a real downside when it comes to his oral diarrhea. He just spouts off without thought to what he is saying or who the words are aimed at.

I am not really sure if I am going to say anything to him at this point or not. I really like the guy and he has been a good mentor, but he is a little bit of a geek and thinks that saying the shit he says is humorous and it really makes him look like a giant Dillhole and pisses me the fuck off. BUT - the guy really fought to hire me and is one of the partners in my company.

It's a dilemma. I am not really great at holding my tongue, but I don't want to rock the boat this early in my career. I think my best solution is to sell balls out in my patch, exceed my quota for the year and then see if that shuts him up.

What do you guys think??

Oh Yeah:
FUCK YOU - to my dentist who called with a "reminder" about my cleaning, but failed to say who was calling. When I called all of my doctors, including that dentist, I was told by all that I had NO appointments. Then I miss the time and they charge me $25 for not cancelling in advance. WHAT THE FUCK you stupid fucking accounting fuck douche cock sucking cunt. I am NOT paying that fee - FUCK OFF is all you get.

Anyone want to give a FUCK YOU?

Feel free to leave yours in the comments section.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

I don't think it's the wine

Fuuuuuuuck - totally one of my favorite words.

OK, so I thought that when I got "sick" after dinner a few weeks ago it was because I drank a whole bottle of this menage a trois wine.

Then, I had dinner again a week later and got "sick" again.

Then, after dinner last night.... Yeah you are a fucking genius... Sick AGAIN!!

What the fuck??

There was no wine last night.

There was fish on all three nights. Twice it was Chilean Sea Bass and last night it was Tilapia.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

I am mother fucking pissed. Yes, that means I am mad enough to fuck a mother. What the fuck - I say again.

A little personal information:

I am allergic to shellfish.
Part of my family is from Maryland and I lived there once upon a time.
Old Bay seasoning and Crab Cakes are a food group to me.
I can no longer eat Crab Cakes (I capitalize the words Crab Cakes because I love them THAT much), due to my allergies.

I love fish.
I love all kinds of fish.
Salmon, Sea Bass, Grouper, Snapper, Tuna, Tilapia, you get the frigging picture people?
I think I am allergic to fish.
I am probably still going to eat fish.

What happens when I eat fish?

Lately it feels like my intestines are trying to leave my body. My ass opens so wide, if you looked, I bet you could see out of my mouth. I get all crampy and feel like a popped zit for two days straight. I lay around and moan and groan. I get bitchy(er). There is a burning pain from my esophagus all the way through my entire digestive system, ending somewhere around a foot outside my asshole. Also, the toilet gets clogged. It's not from the size of the load, but the quantity. I think if you weighed my turd output over the last 24 hours, it would come out to more than my current body weight and I DON'T KNOW HOW THAT IS POSSIBLE, but it is.

I am rambling.

This happens when I feel hollowed out and empty, yet full at the same time.

My O-ring is on fire.

Fuck, I think I need to make another trip to the bathroom AKA the diahrrorium......

I love you guys.

Later
ADW