Moderation? Moderate on? Mod their inspiration?

I came home today, pissed. Pounding the tetris of cement and asphalt, huffing my cig like it was an untriggered answer.


and all i saw were gifs i’d seen before

angry trailer trash shouts at angry trailer trash, angry trailer trash gets beaned with iron shovel.

this violates every rule of the “rumble.”

Clearly she’s the weaker for busting out a weapon when it was hand to hand.

how more clearly can you define a coward?

why do i even debate this? 

why should i have to?

clearly if its hand to hand and you whip out a shovel you’re the weakest link.

If this bitch showed up to fight, friends could level her sans gardening tools. #bearealbitch


oohfiretwerks asked:

thank you your message made me feel a bit better i guess I just need to look on the brightside (I'm glad you're still here btw stay perfect)

Dudes of course! i struggle alot and I like your posts. stay strong and never hesitate to be vulnerable. when I post whats really going on then I find something new. you”re apart of us.


Obviously i’m a lady.

and I have lady parts

So when i work out its usually fully swathed in as much of an american-like burkha as I can manage.

But today I got home, had a drink, and was like, f*ck, I gotta work out.

So I went in my room, shut the door, took off my shirt and then was like “LETS GET WEIRD!” I took off my bra too.

It was…strange.

I felt so f*ckin free.

and then i wondered, is this male peacocking? is this how they get their self-esteem?

To bra-less workouts my minxes and men!

it WILL be a good day, won’t it?

Last night i had a terrible dream…

I dreamt I was dating NinjaDick.

and it was a looooooong dream.

I woke up surprisingly early. and very confused.

Not only do I never want to sleep with that dude, DATING HIM?!!


But I squared my shoulders and kept my chin up.

I cooked breakfast. went for a run. went to the bank. cooked lunch. enjoyed a beer.

and just when i’m feelin pretty spiffy, 


The exhusband writes me another long abusive email. 

Now that he is broke he’s claiming i owe him thousands of dollars? Wuuuuuuut. Not like i paid for all the plane tickets, got him sober, had him drink away my parents expensive liquor cabinet, AND paid and did everything to make the divorce happen. Where’s my money?

I filtered his ass. and i’ll be damned if that drunken idiot ruins my effin saturday.

today is weird…

Holla atcha Big Girl

Hola mis compadres.

I’m no dainty flower. 

Well, I’m not huge. But not small. Either.

And to all those pussies who think we’re fat.

I got some numbers and letters for ya:



Unfortunately fabulous tits come with an ass and a larger package.

So, yo, make love to pre-pubescent girls or someone with a full figure. Its america after all. Choice is everything.

Ciao Fellas!

How to lose everything you are. And smile?

My parents are bankrupt.

Like many of us, our steadfast supporters are crumbling. we are here to sort through the rubble.

I knew my parents were on unstable gound in the mid 90’s. Classic tale of too much money, too young, hubris = two abandoned kids living the dream, by the seat of their pants or brain livin.

And I don’t blame them.


As wasps, we barely dip our little toe into my brother’s dui.

so a major life fail. losing everything in your 60’s and 70’s? um that’s a wall that cannot be breached. no matter how smartly you you dress your trojan horse.

but here we are.

with visceral consequences.

25 years of my mother’s shopping addiction and my father’s financial neglect laid across a two lot lawns.

and so the call goes out.

my five month pregnant sister, her husband, and I. we respond. we drive down.

We swiffer unopened boxes of first editions from the 1850’s, we carry box after box after box up the stairs and down when our mother changes her mind.

I cut my possessions in their house from 12 boxes and furniture down to 1 duffel, 3 boxes of journals and postcards, and one of recurds culled from their 10 box collection.

I lose: my books i was saving for a daughter I might have. Original Madelelines, the entire eloise set, countless books about historical women who kicked ass. two thirds of my closet. all of my cookbooks and cookware. my furniture.

and across the lawn I still see hundreds of boxes of 25 years of my parents life.

I can’t know the pain they are experiencing.

I cried as I went through my photo albums to pick only the ones I really wanted,

Imagine that, though, you’re sorting through your entire family life.

every ancestor photo. every book you read to your child. every photo.

who else has gone through this?

I know I am not alone.

Outdone and Done Out

Nostalgia hour continues, let me unhook my bra like mr. rodgers unlaces his shoes…

Hello my Mournin drunks and left alone Mornin ladies,

This is a tale of an unexpected hookup gone, well i’ll let you see…

Like every single girl, I have my hunting grounds


Usually I go and find some douche to satisfy my hunger


Obviously, I would prefer love, wit, and tenderness. but i still have a body


And so I go out, usually my excuse is lonliness


And so this night I sit at the bar and I swear not to look for dick. I’m here for conversation.


But anyway, I sit at this bar and fall into conversation with the MARRIED dude next to me. 


So we talk about the state of education in America, violence, the mental health system, and I bring up his wife. He tells me she won’t take birth control and so he’s been PULLING OUT for 7 years.


I…just…couldn’t fathom that.

Yeah birth control sets my body haywire, yes it sucks. But being long term with someone and making them constantly pull out?!


She’s got to worry about being pregnant EVERY MONTH! Unless she trusts he’s infertile. Weird. I thought this all was weird Also, because as a couple when you trust each other enough to leave the condom, the whole point is to feel each other cum right?


Well, I expressed my disbelief and distress but dropped it. The night went on. I decided to go and he invited me to another neighborhood bar. conversation with so many lovely, truly awesome folk, impeded our progress so we got there when the bar closed.

I should have known.


So we walk to the bar and it closed. Outside we meet some dudes who work construction but are old school neighborhood. But I have an amazing conversation with a guy who is a stage hand for the opera.


But cigarettes end and so does conversation, and so me and married go home.



We didn’t sleep together in the evening but come sober daylight, yes.

And there was this moment where he stopped, and I could see 16 thoughts flood him. And his hands were still wanting but he wasn’t drunk and some reality was setting in.

That’s when I started to feel bad.

He got up and searched for his clothes and his knife?! which he carries around apparently.

Lesson to self: See the ring and run,