Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Things I shouldn't say, period

Saturday, January 02, 2010
Cutting on the inside

Talking to a friend and former colleague the other day, and she asks me if I’m still keeping up with ye old blog. I told her, “Well, I’m not NOT keeping up with it, but yeah, my last entry was in September,” and she was all, “You should at least let people know you’re not dead.” It’s always kinda been my thought that bringing attention to the fact that you’re not blogging is kind of trying to BRING ATTENTION to the fact that you’re not blogging, as in “Look at ME, everyone! Don’t you MISS ME when I’m not around!?” as if all y’all do is sit around to hang off my every word. But since she made the point:

No, everyone, I’m not dead.

So 2009 ended on an Ok note considering that Pimp’s alternator croaked in the lefthand turn lane of a major intersection during rush hour; interestingly enough, it was this final straw that snapped me out of what’s had to have been the most terrible, horrible, emotional no-good week I’ve been in months, kinda like “Yeah, this is the blood-clot cherry on a shit sundae, so I might as well just lighten up because the crying hasn’t helped!” There were mitigating factors to this terrible, horrible, emotional no-good week—like the reason I was home for NYE instead of out seeing the boys, for example—but there’s no need to hash, and some of it I can’t talk about here, anyway, because I promised. Anyway, I’m feeling better now, although the week made for some creative suicide ideation techniques!*

Hopefully this year will get me going and writing here again, but in the meantime I hope y’all are well, the holidays were full of love and laughter and that your aspirations for this year are fulfilled. N’ shit.


Posted by Broad5:34 AM
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Once there was a title, and it was a gas … until we kept forgetting the damn thing

I was just sitting here ruminating over how I was going to even start telling y’all about the weekend when the one of the many levels of hell that is my job popped up in my inbox: It’s graduation time, and here’s the first of about 20 you’re going to get to cover! Want it!?? No, I DON’T want it, because damn Region people don’t know how to act during commencement ("WE LOVE YOU, NEECIE!"). But I will do what I always do, which is take as many as they shove down my gullet with the understanding that I’m going to bitch about it the whole time, because I’m nothing if not consistent.

I think the best way to sum up the weekend is it was Girlie/Bitch Fantastic’s (G/BF) weekend to alternately shine and crap out early. From the top: Friday night, I’d just gotten off the horn with my seester to solidify plans for her coming in (she didn’t, although she’s talking about coming in this Friday) when G/BF calls, first to bitch at me for not picking up my phone all day (I get like that sometimes) and then to enlist my help in finding her cousin who inexplicably went MIA. We were talking when all of a sudden her husband starts cussing and yelling like a fool for some reason I didn’t even catch, which is nothing new but whatever. We hang up and I press on with laundry when I get a text from her about 2:30 a.m.: “Relationship emergency. Get here now!”

Well, it’s really her story to tell, so I won’t share particulars except to say “LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE!” and that having the big, dead weight off her shoulders is already doing her a world of good. What WASN’T good was the lack of sleep the bullshit caused as you’ll see; I didn’t leave her crib until 6:15-ish, and I think she and Curlie were up a little longer than that.

(On the subject of dead weight, I should mention that in between all this, the phone rang twice, and whose number should it have been but that of TOG. Not sure if he dialed me by accident or was leaving a “calling card” so that I would get back to him, but the appropriate response, of course, would’ve been to not respond. I, however, am not quite in the mood at this point to not respond and would much rather be as annoying as humanly possible, so I texted some crappy little remark. No response, so I guess that makes HIM the mature one for not taking my bait. Good for him; he gets the cookie. Yawn.)

(I should also add that I’m not anti-men or anti-relationship at all; in fact, there’s a gentleman or two I might be interested in as we speak. I’m just fervently anti-dumbass, and an inordinate amount of male dumbasses have been pissing up my rope lately, is all.)

ANYWAY.

After about 5-ish hours, give or take, I got up and made my way over to Dark Lord Day, the widely popular beer festival Three Floyds throws to celebrate their signature stout that *I* think tastes like molasses but people are crazy-wild about. I covered the event, but after experiencing it once, I’m ready to get a crew and pitch a tent out there next year. Freakin’ thing is a Dead show, only with much nicer and less smelly people; they had the Waco Brothers out there performing and some other band I can’t remember but is supposedly really good. Well, so you can’t go to a beer fest without partaking; it’s not like I was getting out of there without trying some with all the beer hippies offering me a swig of this or swig of that, anyway. Let’s see, that was 2-ish, 3-ish in the afternoon? Came home, showered then picked up G/BF and Curlie and headed toward a breast cancer benefit where we caught Bravo Johnny in one of their two or three reunion gigs of the year. I’d never seen them before, but it kinda turns out I really didn’t need to—chicken-egg, you see. I mean, they are really, really good, but just saying.

At this point, we headed over to G-Town for TSB, and this is where it all started going to hell for G/BF, in no small part because I kinda happened to mention to my D-List celebrity BFFs that she’d had a rough weekend and may need some liquid assistance. They of course obliged and, well, lack of sleep + several 7-7-roses limes + a metric shit-ton of tequila shots = TKO, and by time we got to the boys, she was all “I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.” So Juggsie, G/BF’s pal of a zillion years, left Curlie and I with the boys, who were crooning “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You” to some busted-ass Rod Stewart lookalike (no seriously, this dude was rockin’ the hair) as we walked in, which freaked me out because ew? Really? Then, just as THAT debacle was over, some guy in a wheelchair offered to let Cheeks ride around with him, and who would Cheeks be not to take him up on that? I’m sure other shenanigans went on, but after getting into my second Stella, I too started to wane. White Castle (but not that pulled pork nonsense) was procured, the end.

Fun fact: G/BF calculated our spendings Saturday. Grand total = $200 worth of alcohol between the three of us. That’s a lotta booze, folks.

For those of y’all who aren’t on FB, I’m having issues with posting pictures from the night, so I’ll try to post them later.


Posted by Broad5:47 PM
Thursday, April 16, 2009
“Thank you, Easter Bunny!” (Also: “Wake up and smell the arsenic!")

First I get, “EnterTAIN ME!” then I get “Oh, OH! You go a whole MONTH without blogging, and now you want to do it aGAIN!?? WhatEVER!” The hell. A broad can’t get a break over here.

Show of hands: How many of y’all are having problems with your significant others? I swear, all my girls’ relationships are imploding, and it makes me really, REALLY glad I’m single. Like today, we were at the restaurant, and one of them was talking about how now that she’s asked her husband for a divorce, he’s now all up her butt and—oh God—CRYING all the time. Another one doesn’t have the crying (much), but hers is waiting on her hand-and-foot when all she really wants is for him to pay some of the damn bills. And yeah yeah yeah, I know emotions make me itch and all, but I was, like, horrified, because when I think about the usual complaints, it’s always women jawing about how their men are too involved in work and whatever. But a guy clinging would be SO much worse to me, I can’t even TELL you. Seriously, how do you get “I need to do everything short of wiping my woman’s ass” from “She’s asked me to start contributing to the household”!?? That doesn’t even make sense. But yeah, so, being able to never change out my jammies and loving my cats doesn’t sound quite so bad now, does it? (Not that it ever did to ME, but ...)

Hey, remember my skin flute? It’s on loan to The Unit boys since Holy Saturday. I don’t think they’re going to do anything completely disgusting to it, but I know it brought them great joy, hence the “Thank you, Easter Bunny!” reference. Cheeks took to it quite nicely, in fact. On another note, they played the HELL out of “Honky Tonk Woman”; these guys are really good, but I was FLOORED by how good that was.


Posted by Broad5:44 AM
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
What’s with all the bawl-bustin’!? Damn

Evidently, I’ve been doing my job right this week, because damn people all butt-hurt and telling me how to do my damn job. Jesus. Look, lady, I didn’t stay for “the whole meeting” because my deadline is 9 p.m., and it takes me a half-hour or so to write up a story. Therefore, since I left at 8:45, surely you can see the dilemma, right? As for how I cover a story and what I end up writing about it, my job is to provide readers with the newest information humanly possible, and I hate to tell you this, but the people in the crowd were NOT SAYING ANYTHING NEW. I know you think they were, but between the nutjob who had his son refigure the study numbers, the Rush-wannabe wingnut accusing the board of entertaining real estate offers and HIS mother getting up and talking about how her father was the first union president, really, they weren’t. In fact, the only parent who offered anything remotely reasonable was the woman who asked what improvements would be made with the money that would be saved. And no, no one on EITHER SIDE gave any viable solutions, either, so tell you what: When the parents CAN say anything I haven’t heard ad nauseum since November, I’ll stop acting like I have better things to do. ‘k?

THAT one wasn’t even the best one, either. Behold the atrocity I got over the weekend; my comments are obviously italicized. [WARNING: It’s SUPER long.]


Posted by Broad3:37 AM
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
It’s my damn birthday

Could my cousin PLEASE stop blowing up my phone about the story I’m doing!?? I GOT IT! Jeez.

More on my birthday tomfoolery later—just had to get that out.


Posted by Broad5:39 PM
Thursday, December 04, 2008
No one had to die on Thanksgiving … this year

I know y’all have been waiting for a recap of the anticipated Holiday o’ Horror, and believe me, it’s not that I’ve decided not share. Frankly, there just isn’t anything to tell—it went really well. Mother didn’t stop talking from the time I picked her up until probably the next day, which is either endearing or annoying, depending on who you are; and Baby Brudder did exactly what I figured he’d do and blew out early (HE said it was because work had a server crash, but *I* know it was because he didn’t want to deal, although waiting until AFTER chow would’ve been slightly more polite. On the other hand, though, if you’re going to be twitchy, it’s better to get the hell out of dodge before you turn into a spectacle), but it was eerily normal. I even peeled potatoes, ferchrissake.

It’s the AFTER that’s been a drag.

Friday, after I woke up at ass o’clock to cover the yahoos shopping Black Friday—and I don’t care who you are or how much money you think you’re saying: If you’re up at ass o’clock to shop, you’re a yahoo—helped Girlie texturize the walls of the restaurant and tried like hell to ignore the headache and clogged sinuses that were threatening my well-being, Mother and I went to dinner. That’s when it started:

Yollie said that she really IS your mother, too, because she gave birth to you ... What was she saying when she called you her daughter? Because I kinda took it to heart ... Do you think you’ll call her ‘Mom’ when I’m gone?


Before y’all ask, no, there really is no way discuss this with or placate her. I’ve tried, but she doesn’t get that the two of them are very different people to me, and it’s not a matter of who’s more important. They’re just different. So here I try and do a good thing, and once again it bites me in the ass. Fabulous. I did, however, get a great picture of the three of us ... that I’m expressly forbidden to post. But trust me, it’s something I’ll keep close always.

On to happier business, this weekend is shaping up to be filled with all kinds of tomfoolery, starting with my sister’s arrival Friday; she and I are either going to hole ourselves up away from the rest of the world and drink ourselves stupid or go out and wreak havoc on the unsuspecting, then Saturday is the next Bang-Bang “Drink for ...” extravaganza, for which I plan on getting all hot and gorgeous (AND find a skirt that doesn’t make me look like I’m 3 feet tall). You’re invited if you’re in the area. Ann and Ben said so.


Posted by Broad4:29 AM
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Get out yer longjohns, folks, because Hell HAS frozen over

Tomorrow—or today, whichever you want to call it at this point—as y’all gorge yourselves on everything that’s wonderful about the holidays, I’ll be doing the same, only unlike you, I might well be balled up in the corner with the first bottle of whatever I can find. See, while y’all enjoy your family, *I’ll* be spending Thanksgiving with BOTH MY MOTHERS.

AT THE SAME TIME.

gulp

I know, I know: What a blessing to be amongst those who love me, etc. etc. I get it. But people, complete bizarreness of my situation aside, think about it—TWO MOTHERS. Not a mother and a stepmother, or a mother and a mother-in-law; those are your run-of-the-mill dynamics. I will have TWO MOTHERS who love to—what else?—MOTHER in the same house, mothers who will either fawn all over me or point out every flaw I have as if I don’t know what they are. And if Mother’s in one of her moods, I’ll be inflicting her on completely unsuspecting people. I mean, she seemed in decent spirits when I talked to her earlier, but that was hours ago—who knows WHAT will happen between then and when we’re supposed to get there that’ll set her off!??

I’m a little freaked out here, people. Please send alcohol.


Posted by Broad5:57 AM
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Nothing like waking up to DOOM

Well, I WAS in a decent frame of mind until I logged onto Facebook (where I spend another fairly big chunk of time) and found one of my pals/colleagues posted THIS bit of horseshit: Lookit.

When it comes to the paper, I don’t even know where they think they can cut us anymore, but I can tell you one of myriad ways in which they monumentally fucked it up: Outsourcing our circ to our MAIN COMPETITION. From what I understand, the TRIB is the one that not only prints us but handles our delivery. So, if the Trib’s going to handle our circ, do you REALLY think it’s going to give a Goddamn about what delivery problems the Sun-Times News Group’s having over its own issues!?? Think about that. Yeah, I’ve heard our upper brass goes to Cyrus et al all the time, and Cyrus et al talks about how they’re going to “present these issues sternly” when they re-up the contract or whatever, but again I ask you: With the newspaper industry and all its issues these days, do you really think the Trib cares? Was there a clause in the contract stipulating that as long as the Trib doesn’t ACTIVELY pursue STNG’s subscribers, instead just not doing anything and letting the subscribers get pissed off enough that they cancel, it’s cool? I mean, what!?? It’s stunning to me that these people are letting us die on the vine. And sure, more cuts sort of means more for me, but I don’t WANT more at the expense of other, much better reporters. Never have.

And now with this pissing in my oatmeal, I have to pick up MOTHER in full-on jerk mode to get a new winter coat after she had to sleep on the couch last night because her landlord didn’t fix the roof properly, and it was banging against the side of her crib all night. (whimper)


Posted by Broad5:07 PM
Friday, October 10, 2008
If it’s right, why does it feel so wrong?

So I did something Wednesday that I haven’t done in, oh, something like two years, I think. Ready?

I am now the proud owner of a current valid drivers license.

This comes as no shock to my crew, who’ve had to haul my ass around and hold their breaths while I get carded since I finally admitted my lack of license (don’t worry—I may not look like I’m approaching 40, but I’m still not cute enough to pass as under the age at which it’s appropriate to card), but it shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of y’all, either, because truth be told, I’m kind of an asshole when it comes to stuff. Here’s what happened: I got dinged for speeding in late February or early March 2006 (twice within a week, as I recall); paid my tickets and was told I needed to go to defensive driving. Thing about that was, having gone through DD before several years ago during my last spate of speeding infractions, I seemed to recall the cost as being something like $90, which I didn’t have at the time. And then I forgot to sign up, and then I forgot I forgot and so on and so forth until my license was suspended (and yes, they DO send out the paperwork). Fast forward to April, I was heading down to my accountant’s for the annual buttrapemy taxes when I got pulled over. And the officer discovered my suspended license. Said officer was kind enough to NOT impound my car and wrote me a ticket far less than my actual speed. But did that prompt me to reinstate my license? Of COURSE not, because now that it was suspended, I figured the fee was MUCH more than $90 and I had to prepare for that kind of coin.

Then my first court date in August came and went—it was deferred since I was still a scofflaw—and I decided I’d better take care of this nonsense, so I called downstate to find out what I needed to do to become legal again. The lovely gentleman told me all I had to do was take the DD course I’d put off. “Really? That’s IT!??” I said in utter shock. “Yep, should cost you no more than $50.” Well, hot PISS! I thought, I can do this right quick!

Except I didn’t and deferred two more court dates before sitting my ass down at the computer to TAKE THE COURSE. Hey, I told y’all I was an asshole about this stuff.

In what has to be my punishment for being such a dick, y’all can rest assured that the picture is horRENdous—my face is too small for my head and my hair is HUGE on one side because I made the mistake of pulling it outside my collar (first mistake: wearing a collared shirt in the first place) without benefit of a mirror. None of that, however, compares with my Peter Griffin butt-chin, which is more prominent than I’ve seen it in forever. But you know, now that I have my license back, I kind of feel all out of sorts, like it’s not normal to not be a scofflaw. Is that weird?

Next up: getting my license plate renewed. Then I’ll be COMPLETELY legal (It was due in August.). The question, however, is will I still be the exciting, mysterious rebel I’ve become by having a suspended license all this time? Only time will tell, I reckon ...


Posted by Broad8:21 AM
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wow. THAT gave me the jibblies

So tonight I’m over at Girlie’s for a candle party with the usual suspects when one of them who isn’t part of the crew starts chatting with me as I’m writing a story. She was interested in the types of stories I do, and I gave her the usual shpiel about how I write everything but sports because I’m a sports retard, etc. when she asks me if I do this and that. (It’s here that I’m going to start being vague for reasons I’m sure y’all will appreciate in a second.) I tell her yeah, I’m asked to do this and that every so often, so she asks if I’m familiar with so-and-so, and I was all “Of COURSE! I love them!” when she said “Well, don’t get too excited.” I look at her all intrigued --"Oh?”

And there it came: “So and so molested me when I was in high school.”

See, I’m one of those people that gets told a lot of things regardless of whether or not I want to be told. Part of it is because of what I do, naturally, but nine times out of 10 people just share their deep dark stuff with me. And I’m a pretty good listener, so it’s cool, whatever. But I gotta say, that one was hard to take. I mean, it’s bad enough to hear about abuse when the a-hole who did it has no connection to you, but when it’s someone you know and could conceivably have contact with!?? “Awkward” and “disappointed” don’t even come close. I’m pretty sure my jaw is still over at Girlie’s.

Could she be lying? Sure; there’s also no way of proving anything because she never prosecuted, and this was 20-some years ago. Still, based on the conversation, I don’t believe she is.

Just ... wow.

[NOTE: Before anyone calls me out for putting this in such a public forum—and I understand why you would—she told me in front of the others that I could tell anyone and use her name if I wanted. I’ve chosen not to, of course, because again there’s no police record. But if there was, I’m still not sure I’d name names, because there’s other people involved and oy! does this suck.]


Posted by Broad3:11 AM
Saturday, April 26, 2008
All right, all right, nothing to see here

except for, oh, that Snelling and I took second place in deadline reporting at the state Society for Professional Journalists Awards last night for our work on the Chase Street crash.

shock
Holla,
muthafukkas!


Yeah, I know, I didn’t say anything here when I found out a month ago that I was up for it because bragging kinda sucks (though it didn’t stop me from mass e-mailing my posse with the news, so clearly it doesn’t suck THAT much), but I figured I’d let y’all know when I found out for certain how I placed. And I’m thrilled, though not as thrilled as I would’ve been had we taken 1st. Why? Well, because as I’ve said a million times before, that story meant a lot to me, but also because the story that beat us out was by the competition, and I ALWAYS hate that, though I dig the writer who wrote it, so I’m cool that it was someone deserving and not, you know, someone who WASN’T (ahem).

Now, I just have to come up with the value of drinks y’all will be buying me for my win. Good thing it WASN’T first, because someone would be required to cough up a bottle of Veuve, and that ain’t cheap.


Posted by Broad7:14 PM
Friday, March 21, 2008
Holier than thou-ist

I was going to tell y’all about having to cover a live rendition of The Last Supper tonight and how their communion crackers were the size of Chiclets, but after talking to the performers and seeing how earnest they are, can’t bring myself to be snide about it. Hell, I even refrained from imbibing the shot glass of “wine” after passing on the Chiclet, and I was tempted!


Posted by Broad3:15 AM
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Jezebel did it so I don’t have to

And I was just contemplating this, too, or something very similar: Lookit


Posted by Broad2:17 AM
Thursday, February 28, 2008
And now, back to the nutjobs. Or not

I don’t know what the heck kind of oil my downstairs neighbor is burning in her living room scent burner, but it’s making my kitchen smell like either that drugstore cologne or deodorant that middle-school boys wear. You know what I’m talking about? Kinda musky and sorta spicy, yet ... not? All it needs is rank prepubescent-boy armpit, and I’d be in some version of hell.

So the other day after I threw out my little discussion point about the idea of “nutjob,” I was kinda thinking I didn’t want to go back to it because it came out of not-so-great place that I get into every time I have to make a decision I don’t want to make. And now that I’ve tried to sit down and write it a number of different times between assignments over the past day or so, I’ve decided not to do it here because a) it’s been coming out as a big stream-of-conscious thing of epic proportions even moreso than usually comes out of my head, and who wants to slog through that, and b) I’m feeling strangely self-protective, which is kind of unusual for me. I mean, if anyone’s really that interested in waxing philosophic on the finer points of what makes a nutjob, what I’m thinking is not exactly revolutionary and I’m fine with talking about it—just not here right now.


Posted by Broad3:40 AM
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Apologies all around

to anyone who may have received communique(CQ?) of any kind from me last night. Why I thought it was a good idea to down a pitcher of beer BY MYSELF probably correlates with the ugly, self-indulgent mood I’ve been in the past couple weeks, but I tell you what: My mood has improved dramatically since. And I wasn’t even as hungover as I was expecting!

Also, muy thanks to Paul for going to the meeting I was supposed to go to, because I very likely would’ve hemorrhaged had I been:

HIGHLAND—A Highland Police Commission member accused by Town Council members of violating his oath of office will not continue to serve on that board.

With Councilman Mark Herak absent from the meeting, the other four members unanimously voted to oust John Koval from his position on the Police Commission.

Following the vote, public comments were permitted. Former Councilman Joseph Wszolek of Highland read a prepared statement in opposition to the action taken against Koval.

Wszolek said Koval’s behavior was consistent with the recently adopted Code of Ethics for Highland officials in that he took the responsibility to expose corrupt behavior and took action to support the public’s right to know.

Attorney Joe Hero, who represents Koval, was not allowed to speak.

Koval’s reprimand stems from a letter to the editor he wrote before the November election countering information in Highland First Coalition literature.

The brochure said the previous Town Council trimmed $311,633 from the Police Department’s budget, which in turn would reduce police patroling capabilities by 19 percent.

The Police Department’s net operating budget for 2007 was cut, said Highland Clerk-Treasurer Michael Griffin. But most of that money was made up through two other funds on which the department relies.

In Koval’s letter, dated Oct. 31, 2007, he said former Republican and current Highland First Councilman Mark Herak “concocted a fairy tale.”

“I find it morally offensive for (Herak) to use scare tactics and prey upon our citizens’ fears regarding their safety for the sole purpose of trying to maintain power,” he wrote.

In January, the Police Commission’s four other members—James DeGraaf, Chairman James Turoci, Patty VanTil and Danny Stombaugh—sent a letter to the council requesting that Koval be removed from the commission because by identifying himself as a police commissioner he was allowing politics to influence the Police Department and Commission. The council turned to Town Attorney Rhett Tauber for an opinion.

In a letter dated Jan. 8, Tauber said Koval’s actions weren’t a violation.


So, SO very disappointing, though coming from Herak—a guy who put together his election strategy with Democrats when he was a Republican and who now left out the part of how most of the Police Department money was given back in his campaign literature—I’d expect nothing less. The man is pathological in his need for control of whatever power he thinks he has over his little town.

And how about Danny Vassar wanting to make Lincoln Center “residents only?” Are nonresidents peeing on the floor or holding baby-tossing contests in the fieldhouse? If they’re not, I’d say his reasons smack of racism, or least of a snobbery to which Highland really has no claim. And if Lincoln Center DOES go resident-only, how much are the resident fees going to get hiked to make up the difference? Because you DO know the money’s going to have to come from somewhere, right? Way to go, Danny!


Posted by Broad5:39 PM
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It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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