Today I turned 44. I started writing some epic post about how I was in surgery 25 years ago. How I almost died, how I have had to repeat it 7 times, and the experience is to be repeated again, supposedly soon.

Soon is anytime before 10 years or so. At that point I am good, I will be older then, and obviously there will be less of my brain left that might remain unaffected by the fuzziness that plagues my vision sometimes.

Today I went downtown to Alexandria. I walked back and forth. My pink hair was out. I was wearing a pretty sweet black bodysuit with cutouts. It was a bit hot for what I was wearing at the time for most of the walk, but I don’t think I have the sunblock on as I should.

I bought 4 of the same damn cupcakes. The girl behind the counter was not too excited to be there. I left her a few bucks and some of the change as things right now are tough. I still wish I got 4 different flavors vs an expectation given they were like 4 bucks a piece which is a lot insane. Either way, I just wanted to get out of there. The cupcakes were my consolation prize. I knew Don wouldn’t do anything. He is terrible with that kind of stuff in general, but ultimately I was the one who cooked and bought the cake and wine. He pays the rest, after all.

I strutted down the street in my black catsuit and pink hair and set those cupcakes down on the seat in front (not a good idea). I kind of cried a bit, because I have no friends. I mean none. How do you make friends in a pandemic? You don’t. How the fuck do you when everyone is 6 feet away and that’s the only way to stay alive? So I get that and I am okay with that, though not entirely OKAY, just small okay, a slight hint towards making sure you just make it through this shit mentally whole.

I am clearly not a bad person. I am a person who gives a fuck and wants everyone and everything to be good for people and I am the person with a million ideas, a fantastic cheerleader. I give a shit about people, which explains why I am such a political junkie. I think our government should protect us better than it has. instead of launching a bunch of ridiculous private contracts to people who gave you money, I think all projects should be open to bidding, with the best proposition chosen, as best helped for the people. I want ethics emphasized. I want a world and a country that has its best interests at heart, vs the interests of oftentimes the wrong people, the wrong ideas, and the incorrect outcomes for what we could make happen, were it not for a few shitty people ruining things.

I saw a photo of Mitch McConnell’s hands, obviously taking blood thinners, and he’s either drinking too much pomegranate juice. or it is, as my husband says, that’s not blood thinners, that’s Satan coming through.

Jesus Christ, that’s the only way I have been able to survive, that sense of humor he has—he is the fucking FUNNIEST person I know. And I have known a lot of you, but YES. the funniest, and the funnest. We had a period of pretty intense fighting, getting close to each other’s limits and understanding ultimately there is no one better for the other than each other. At this point he’s not run away–and many people do–I can only offer limited things sometimes. but always and I mean ALWAYS kindness. I am not a hateful person, though I’ll tell you a few definitely deserve some at the very least INTENSE CRITICISM, in capital letters because YES.

So I am trying to build these things, my comments on articles I see posted in facebook and the various news sites I frequent– but MY COMMENT on my own website, linked the the article. You want to argue, great, but if you suck as a person and you abuse my policy, well you get deleted, the end. I get to decide what I allow posted, since I own it and all. Nothing about the public domain allows you forever access when it is privately funded and nobody has any control but me.

That was a response to all of the pushback I have gotten lately with regard to my commentary on everything from our debt looming from half a billion to over 3 trillion under the current dude. WHAT THE FUCK AMERICA?!?! The shit I have posted about–everything from this list of regulations cut, to the obvious fact that we are all being sacrificed unless we personally donate cash to stay alive. We are dead unless we front the cash to not DIE at the hands of our wretched government representatives, all favor paid by the people who can afford that favor, and that is NOT all of us. I need my outlet, where if people are contrary, they can argue amongst themselves in a world I design.

So that is the state of things. I am the pathetic person, the person who bought herself a boring assortment of cupcakes. Dressed in a catsuit and pink hair, the easiest way to feel like you did something without doing a fucking anything, even stepping in a store besides the unimaginative cupcake shop named after the place I live. YES. That name. I am listening to a pretty sweet mix lately, but if you want to drop a general line or spotify, let a lady know. I might even one day organize my music enough to share.

I am 44. A bicentennial babe, a person born in the 1900’s a person who will more than likely be dead in 7 years or so–this is okay, but give me a few years of ease or at least the CHANCE to change my own outcome. Clearly it would be worse if it was 7 months or 7 days, but I am always trying to mold my mind, to meld my consciousness to relay better things to my brain. I have a strong will just to prove to those of you who sucked my soul and never gave me a second thought–maybe some even dead now, yes a few. the one who I literally pissed myself in front of–he is dead a few years. He was a good guy, but I did pee myself, because girl’s got a single YES single kidney. It is the size of a pig kidney, having grown enough because I am an alcoholic, or at least because I played one for a few years. No more on that, I would rather eat my high, but where I am that is not entirely possible all the time. Tonight, maybe. Most nights, no.

This is what happened with all of that early access to trauma in my experience. I got used to expecting normally bad or not so great things. Making things like this.

That is what I think largely happened to me.. 9 times out of 10 situations, yes.

Thanks for checking up on me. I am alive, I live. I don’t have any friends here, that is, but I realize the reason I still kick, the reason my heart still exists is because I learned how to expect and have nothing here and look out there, and so when I have no one it is not a strange place to be. I have my husband, who is yes, still the funniest person I know. And he is the one thought we have been through a TON of shit. We are still the one the other counts on when things are you know, existing, haahahah. I miss so many of you–life was interesting at points, and a complete miss at others. And even still I have never been afraid to change. It’s what it’s been, never boring, never the same too much to make shit boring.

PRO TIP: don’t buy 4 of the same fucking cupcake. Ever, 😉