This and That

June 15, 2005 at 11:05 am (Uncategorized)

Troy has been a good sport about me pimping him out. I told him about all of your responses and he said he was getting the big head (NO, not THAT one, the one on top of his shoulders, geez… gutterminded peeps) and has promised more eye candy pics for you ladies. He also said if anyone would like to write I may freely pass out his snail and e-mail addresses. He then signed it, “Forever your bitch.”

Now, if that doesn’t show a sense of humor, nothing does.

He was also… ummm… not real certain that anyone would write to him. Hmpf!

Snail mail (and all soldiers love snail mail):

Troy Hughes
APO AE 09354

Let’s show Troy some blogger love. As a matter of fact, put that in the subject area: Blogger Love. That way he’ll know you heard about him here!!!

Okay, back to me, since this blog is about me!! Now, I’ve got nothing to say… I tried blogging last night but it was just more bitching about T-Bird and to bitch more about it just makes me want to … be violent. If I have to hear her know-it-all bullshit one more time I’m pouring boiling battery acid in my ears.

T-Bird got a new job so this has precipitated the new attitude that she knows it all about it all. Gah!!! I mean… she is acting like she is an expert on every subject under the sun. She called me at work yesterday complaining because she tried to call and call and call and the phone wouldn’t go to voicemail etc. My phone is old so I went out and bought a new one yesterday. Needed one for the kitchen anyway… but that’s not the point. It turned out to be the phone line.

Anyway… I went to the Office of Economic Options yesterday. If I want to have my jewelry juried and sold by them, it’s a 50% commission, which means, a pair of $35.00 earrings would go for $70. I don’t think that’s quite fair to the consumer. I did get other information on selling my stuff. Not quite what I thought it would be. Oh well. I’m looking now to continue to sell my stuff here and get enough inventory to sell it at a couple of fairs/festivals around here. We’ll see.

Not much else going on. Well, there’s a lot going on in my head but not ready to be put on paper.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Update from Afghanistan

June 13, 2005 at 9:33 am (Uncategorized)

Troy has been great about sending out a weekly e-mail and sometimes daily photographs of Afghanistan and his place in it, namely, Bagram.

Troy is my best good friend and I would like to remind all of you single ladies or anyone who has a single lady friend that he is a100% single, hardworking lawyer who has a taste for classical music and wine. Okay, enough of the personal ad. Here is Troy’s weekly update… with photos. I have edited with paragraph indentations, which he doesn’t appear to be fond of, and here is a bit of background from another e-mail regarding “Zulu,” “local” and “EST.”

I have to explain the time thing. As I write this it is 2252 Zulu, 0222 local and 0652 EST. for some reason the Army runs on Zulu time which is 4.5 hours behind the local time and 4 hours ahead of EST. of course the AF runs on local time – making it very hard to know what time things are open here (and working at night makes it even worse) I work from 1530 Z to 0330 Z (8pm to 8am) which I think is 11:30am to 11:30 pm. Still trying to keep it all straight and sleep during the day. Ok enough – write me when you get a chance.

Sunday June 12, 2005 10:02Z

The run this morning went surprisingly well – I did 3 laps, with each lap faster than last. I was doing laundry in-between laps. It was nice and cool out – almost cold (I could see my breath) perfect for running. For the first lap I wore my new adiddas that arrived yesterday (thanks to the folks!) They still need to be broken in. On the I-Pod now is Phil Collin’s “Easy Lover” classic 80s music (with Philip Bailey of Earth Wind and Fire)

This week was sort of slow (of course slow is a relative term, slow for here is still pretty busy for the rest of the world) Army term for the week: “high speed” – everything that is good in the Army is “high speed” it has a positive connotation. If you are “high speed” this means you are squared away and going places. High Speed, Low Drag is the saying you hear. On the I-Pod now – Bui Doi, a haunting anthem from Miss Saigon – the name of the kids left behind by American GIs in Vietnam.

One issue that I dealt with this week was the what were planning to do with the pile of hexavalent chromium that the Russians left behind. I’m not sure what it’s a byproduct of but apparently its nasty stuff. When it came across my desk – in the form of the question could we pay X amount from our O&M funds to have it moved and capped, I thought it odd that they wanted to put the Chromium (the same stuff that Erin Brockovich beat up Pacific Gas & Electric for putting in the water) near our only running water on base – Coyote Creek – named after Task Force Coyote (the previous engineering group – now replaced by TF Sword – where they come up with these silly names I haven’t a clue – other names: TF Griffin, TF Eagle, TF Bayonnet, TF Omaha, and TF Strength – respectively: rotary wing aviation, base operations, in charge of southern part of the country, the super secret group that can be mentioned no further, and Strength – I don’t know what they do) Sorry for the digression – now playing Talking Heads, “Burning Down the House” – David Bryne is an interesting character – I recall seeing him in Central Park way back in 1991 – rained like hell, but he came out and played anyway.

Ok, back to the Chromium – the creek runs into the town that borders the base to the north. The remediation plan just called for them to remove the chromium infested dirt I don’t think infested is the right word there, but it will have to do – anyway, they would take the dirt and put it right next to the creek (the one place on base that is sort of nice – there are lots of butterflies over there) and then cap it with concrete.

Thankfully I found an Executive Order that deals with what the government has to do in regard to following environmental statutes outside of the country. (Captain Planet to the rescue!) I-pod update: Beatles “All Together Now” from Yellow Submarine – damn, what the hell where they smoking when they wrote this? Lol And, it turns out that we were able to return the packet to the 7 for further review and an environmental review as to just what this chromium will do to the environment if we put it in that location.

Watched the movie “Hitch” via a bootleg DVD of questionable quality – silly movie- a few funny parts, but formulaic and about 30 minutes too long. That’s one thing I miss here – movies that actually won’t make you stupider (or is it more stupid?) for watching them. A viewing of the offering at the shop outside the BX or should I say PX since this is an Army installation: “The Longest Yard” and “Sin City” – hopefully Jessica Alba will be able to bounce back after the disastrous “Honey” (I can’t believe I wasted 90 minutes of my life on that) – actually I don’t really give a crap about Ms. Alba’s career, but she is nice to look at.

Attended another “fallen comrade” ceremony yesterday – it’s a really somber affair – we line up on Disney Drive and salute the flag draped casket as it drives to the plane for the trip back to Dover AFB. The previous day, we had followed how the soldier was killed almost in real time – its amazing the technology we have, and what we did to the AQAM who killed the soldier – damn, talk about overkill. (Al-Qaeda and Allied Militia in case you were wondering)

Giant Voice just announced that there will be a controlled explosion in a few minutes – I guess the Mine Guys found something to blow up I really need to get a picture of them working – with their dogs – yep, they use dogs to help find mines, I saw a few teams of them this morning as I ran. I-Pod update – the Gigue from the Sixth Cello Suite by Bach – a really cool, uplifting piece of music – the final movement of the suite. The sixth is by far my favorite suite – the most complex – its hard to believe that its sometimes only one instrument playing – the Sarabande is for me at least, the most beautiful piece of music ever written. This Gigue is played by Janos Starker – not my favorite recording, but its what’s on right now.

Bought another bottle of wine this week – this one is a 1982 Pichon Lalande – this is a little of what Robert Parker had to say about it “It has been prodigious from its early days, and in bottle continues to be one of the most satisfying wines of this great vintage, both intellectually and hedonistically.” Long live hedonism! Life is too damn short – this is the wine I will drink upon my return to the states.

Image hosted by
This is along the area that he runs every morning.

Image hosted by

Image hosted by
Hard at work on his birthday!

Image hosted by

Permalink Leave a Comment


June 10, 2005 at 2:16 am (Uncategorized)


That’s me, Mizz Resilience. Forget Nanner, forget da Peach, its Mizz Resilience to you. You’ll recognize that trait amongst others in Blogland… Tsarina, Trashman, Rita, Brighton… and many others. I learn more everyday by just being here, in the world, in the Blogosphere.

I once described falling in love something like, “trying to negotiate a steep mountain after a downpour. You stealthily move from rock to root, grasping branches, scooting on your butt, until that one rock breaks away or that branch breaks in your hand and suddenly your sliding down the embankment, desperately clawing at the mud to stop your descend but instead you pitch ass over teakettle into a clump of thorns, torn and bleeding, with the air knocked out of you.”

This time, however, its so much more refined than a quick tumble down a West Virginia mountain. Its more like a chess game. Strategically positioning the pieces, thinking through the other’s reactions before making a move. This is how life changes us. This is how pain and hurt influence our decisions.

I can’t really say “us,” or “our” because I don’t own any part of that. This is so not who I am or ever have been. I don’t look before I leap. I don’t strategically position pieces. I don’t think about my past much anymore. I only think about the lessons I’ve learned. They are not the same. So what if I’ve fallen down that hill a few times. So what if I’ve come out torn up, bleeding, crying, weeping, devastated, lost, betrayed, poor, depressed, angry, disgusted, and hurt. GODDAMN THE HURT AND MAKE IT GO AWAY. And it did go away and I’m better and stronger because of it.

There have been times I have been down on my knees in those thorns and I have wept thousands of tears. I have sobbed into my fists and I have hated and I have questioned, “why me?” or worse, “why not me?”

Because then I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be with you. I no longer look back and think, “what if?” and imagine something easy and happy and harmonious. If it was meant to exist it would have and it still would, but it doesn’t. If it did, I wouldn’t be here today. I’m not that person anymore and I guarantee, neither are they. And if they are, who the fuck wants someone who can’t grow or won’t?

Twister may not be a profound movie but it does have a line that I repeat to myself sometimes. “Stop living in the past and look what you got right in front of you.”

Standing on that mountain, you just never know. The mountains are alive, they have their own histories, their own voice. Maybe I’ll get caught in the storm and fall ass over teakettle. Maybe I’ll just trip and fall on my face. Maybe I’ll lay on my back and watch the Earth move. But maybe… maybe when I smile to myself because I hear the wind talking to the trees, when the sun kisses me, and I stand at the top of the mountain because I am somebody, because I’m worthy, and I run.

I run down that mountain with the wind chasing me and I see the point, where the sky meets the edge of the Earth, and I know this is it. Maybe the rock will crumble, maybe the branch will break, but maybe the wind will catch me and I’ll fly. That’s what I live for. No matter how often or how hard I fall down, no matter how much it hurts, I get up and I walk it off. Sometimes I got to walk a long way to get rid of the pain, but I do, because I don’t live for the pain, I live to fly.

Fly with me.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Drive-By Blogging

June 9, 2005 at 3:42 pm (Uncategorized)

* I’m meeting with the peeps about my jewelry on Tuesday. I’ll be working extra hard on some new projects.

* My grass needs mowed.

* A tornado touched down here yesterday uprooting several trees. We had strong winds and ten minutes of hard rain. The worst of it passed off to the northeast. The tornado touched down on the hill below the airport where Nate’s camp is.

* I have to work overtime this weekend too.

* I forgot Father’s Day is this weekend.

* In that regard, I can’t get a break. If I’m not out “gallivanting around the country,” (my dad’s words), then I have to appear at a function of some sort. Last time it was my family reunion. Good news is I can bead at my parent’s place.

* Arlene is the first tropical storm of the season and surprisingly enough, its NOT heading for Florida.

* I’m bored.

* This day seems like its been a week already. Is it 5:00 yet???

* I took a shower this morning and thought about how its not as much fun by myself.

* I find it funny that I couldn’t get Nate to school five blocks away by 8:10 most of the year but I can have him at camp 15 miles away by that time.

* I have the “happiness bulge.” It means since I’ve been happy with il mio amore I’ve gained weight. I asked him if he couldn’t just make me miserable for a bit.

* I’m bored.

* I should clean my office.

* And my house.

*And my car.

* But that stuff is boring.

* I want a nap but naps aren’t as much fun alone.

* I need to write Troy a letter. His birthday was Monday. I will post some pics from Bagram, Afghanistan when I get the chance.

* I’m gonna go get a snack. You guys want anything?

Permalink Leave a Comment


June 8, 2005 at 1:34 pm (Uncategorized)

Dropped little dude Nate at his summer camp this morning. He took off playing soccer with a little kid he didn’t know. I tried to tell him bye but he was already in Camp Zone or Zone Camp.

I had Nate join the Y so I could get a discount on his camp. Sue me. Everyone does it and it was their idea. (Why don’t they just discount the freakin’ camp?) I’m saving boatloads of money by doing this. Yay!!! And, I actually like the facility and I’m thinking of joining myself. Me, moi, joining a gym? Hey, what was that sound? That sonic boom kinda sound… oh, never mind, it was just hell freezing over and cracking down the middle.

Nate’s very proud of his YMCA membership card. He said, “Finally! A card with MY name on it.” Yeah, I know how cute he is… Image hosted by

…but please, feel free to tell me again. He got all B’s and one C on his last nine weeks report card. His yearly average wasn’t great but…. its 3rd fucking grade and he passed to 4th grade. That’s all I asked of him. Grades C and above, pass to 4th. He did it. We’re going to Holiday World Labor Day weekend to celebrate. I’m hoping Jamie and her boys may be able to join us.

Hell, you’re all invited!!!

I’m tired and haven’t had the patience (for once) to bead. Anyone waiting on a finished product will have to wait just a bit longer. Not a whole lot longer, just a bit longer.

Oh, speaking of beading. I ran into two ladies from the Center for Economic Development who are involved with the “Showcase WV” thingy for peeps like me. They want to help me get my business off the ground and show and sell my jewelry. How cool is that? I hope to have my room cleaned up this weekend so I can do some major work on finishing some projects.

I’ve kicked around several ideas for a name for my business. I still haven’t made the final decision but in the running are: Peachworks, Beadle Juice, and Attention Deficit Designs (since I try not to make two things exactly alike and I’m so ADD). Feel free to vote.

I got a beautiful card from Cybele with a photograph of her and the earrings I made and a super sweet note from Brighton via SNAIL MAIL. Peeps… send someone a snail mail note/card/letter today!!! It makes life so much better.

Okay, I gotta nap. Oh, crap! I’m at work!! If I hide under the desk they’ll never know. Cheers!

Permalink Leave a Comment

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

June 7, 2005 at 2:53 pm (Uncategorized)

Aaaahhhh… home again.

Thanks for allowing me a few hours to sleep and spend with Nate before banging your silverware on the table demanding a post (ahem… T-Man). Oh, silly me, you didn’t know I was going anywhere. That’s because I didn’t have time to blog before I left, der her.

I don’t know why you want me to post, I’m just going to bitch and brag. I’ll try to be humble, but it is me.

I get upset, well, not upset, disgusted would probably be a better word, when someone tries to one up me and fails so miserably that it would feel so good to slam their face in it and twist the back of their head, making sure that humble pie embeds itself quite nicely in their nostrils, creases of their eyes, and their hair back to their ears.

But I’m a nice person. (Shut up)

Stress is defined as not beating the shit out of someone who truly deserves it. If you can bring me to the point I sneer, I’m pretty close to wanting to beat the shit out of you as well. I felt that way on Friday as my nemesis T-Bird was ferrying me to the airport. Oh pardon, I was ferrying myself to the airport and she came along to drive the gas out of my car, I’m sorry, I meant drive my car home and half-assedly watch my cats. (I don’t really care that “half-assedly” is not a word)

Part of me wants to hurt her in a bad way. The other part of me loves her dearly. I think.

Anyway, since she’s flown to *ahem* then she felt she could tell me all about traveling and security checkpoints and big, busy airports, as though I have no knowledge thereof. I guess she thought she could impress me by having flown through Chicago, or O’Hare (ORD) as the case may be.

Out of the 20 busiest airports in the world, I have flown out of or through seven of them, including Atlanta-Hartsfield, which has surpassed O’Hare as the busiest airport by over 8 million flights. Guess had she known that then flying through O’Hare wouldn’t seem like such a big deal.

Or rather trying to one up me by flying through O’Hare wouldn’t have seemed like the route to go. For the first time in a long time, I really just wanted to punch her, physically and verbally. And I still may do one or the other or both.

I had to get my ammunition together first. Ammunition as in statistics.

I’ve traveled a good bit in my 34 ½ years. I decided using my handy dandy photographic memory, air miles calculator, Mapquest, and common sense to do a preliminary assessment of the number of miles I have traveled in my lifetime. When doing the assessment I stuck to vacations, road trips, etc. Nothing I would ordinarily do, such as the 120 mile round trip to see my parents. So, here’s the numbers (approximated as accurately as possible):

36,037 – air
23,285 – car
2,122 – train
960 – bus
500 – bicycle
400 – foot
53 – boat
63,357 Total

I know a lady who makes those numbers look laughable. She loves Thailand and goes back three or four times a year and then squeezes in a trip or two to other places, like Australia and European destinations not to mention traveling in the US. Comparatively speaking, I’m a light weight. When I hit 100,000… eh, maybe I’ll feel like I’ve been somewhere.

However, if you’ve traveled considerably less than my two and a half times around the Earth (as in one cross-country flight), then you may want to reconsider telling me you can pack better than I can and what security checkpoints are like, delayed flights, cramped seating, nausea inducing, slamming into the door of the bathroom, drink bouncing off the table turbulence, knocking your head into the seat in front of you landings, electrical storm take offs…and please, please… don’t tell me about the red eye.

Don’t tell me about sitting in your seat, the sciatic nerve in your right hip irritated, your sinuses throbbing, and the idiot behind you with the overhead light on the entire trip, while the flight attendants almost break your knee hurtling their crash cart down the aisle to serve a cup of water and a bag of pretzels. I’ve been there. I know you haven’t. (Not you, you know who I mean.)

Not everyone can survive a subway fire in Paris, bounce their head off a brick wall in a bike wreck outside of Heidelberg, be sniffed by bomb dogs in Brussels, see both Statues of Liberty, the Lorelei, Notre Dame, and the Luftbruecke (and things that no longer exist – like East Germany and the Berlin Wall). Not everyone can eat gumbo and beignets in New Orleans, barbeque in Kansas City, Tex-Mex in Houston, and strip steak in New York. Not everyone can walk in the footsteps of mad kings, knights, and ladies, nor meet ambassadors and Senators. Not everyone can plan trips to Poland and the Czech Republic and other places in Europe. Not everyone can travel to 25 of these great United States and seven countries.

Then again… if you want something bad enough and you know how to budget and split a penny four ways, anything is possible. Everyone around here wants to know… where are you getting all of this money to travel??? Maybe you’re wondering too. Well, I fucking work for it. That is the epitome of rudeness. To ask me where I’m getting my money to travel. I work for my money.

My mom said, “You’re always telling me how poor you are….”

Well mums, when I’m forking out $400 down payments for summer camp, I don’t guess I can complain about being poor, since it just so happens I was able to have three paychecks that month. Luck… luck has a lot to do with it. Work… hard work has a lot to do with it.

But its more than that. It’s the desire. People can do incredible things when they’re passionate about something. I’m pretty passionate about living before I die. Death will find me, whether its on a plane or a train or in an automobile… sitting on my front porch in a rocking chair… or watching the sun rise over a volcano… where ever death finds me, I hope its tired from chasing me.

So…. T-Bird wants all those things, but she wants them given to her. People, nothing is free, except peace of mind, and that’s negotiable. Work hard, be passionate, be frugal… live well.

Hey, has anyone seen my tornado chasing brochure?

Permalink Leave a Comment

VOODOO QUEEN (Happy now, T-Man?)

June 2, 2005 at 2:38 pm (Uncategorized)

Sometimes things happen and they aren’t easily explained….

Back more than a few years ago, my current Office Administrator’s husband worked for our law firm. This was before they moved their offices and I came to work here. Our OA, I’ll call her Dolores (Umbridge, that is), from HPOOTP (that’s Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, for you non-Potter peeps, which I just don’t get by the way.) Anyway, Dolores’ hubby, we’ll call him Filch, was the OA in the old days and he pissed off the accountant. Don’t know how or why but he did.

Now, in normal places in the world, other than the Carribean and say, ohhh, New Orleans, if you made the accountant mad then they would screw you out of sick time or fuck up your paycheck, whatever. Here in the mountains (and the Carribean and New Orleans) there’s a different kind of justice. Voodoo. Or Hoodoo. Mountain Magik.

That’s right, the accountant made a voodoo doll of Filch. I use the term “voodoo doll” relatively speaking. In white magik one would refer to a “voodoo doll” as a “charm.” It takes on the negative connotation because of the misunderstanding of voodoo and hoodoo as a whole, personified by Hollywood and a killer book by Dean Koontz called “Darkfall.” INTENSE.

I digress. So, the accountant stuck pins in the voodoo doll in the upper left chest area. Within a relatively short period of time, Filch has a heart attack. Now, pick your chin up off o’ the floor because it gets better.

In the world I operate in, there’s a little thing known as ‘karmic retribution’ or the ‘the law of three,’ which states anything you do will come back to you threefold, whether good or bad. After Filch is carted off for heart bypass etc., the accountant (who strangely enough, resembles the character Dolores Umbridge, i.e. toad looking) stays with the firm and as way gives to way, started on HRT’s (or hormone replacement therapy) as she hit menopause.

Thereafter she’s diagnosed with breast cancer and she has a double mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation, and then breast reconstructive surgery, which promptly causes a hernia, and then Christmas of 2002, she is diagnosed with a metastatic brain tumor which she also undergoes treatment for via surgical extraction and radiation, which then leeches all of the calcium from her teeth causing most of them to rot and she now has had several teeth extractions and has to be fitted for dentures.

Don’t look at me like that. Some of you are shaking your heads in disbelief. Far -fetched isn’t it? First, that sticking pins in a voodoo doll can cause a heart attack (har har har har)… second, that the act of doing so would cause such a retaliation in another person (bwwhahahahhahahaaha).
Magick, as defined by Crowley, is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will. Which goes back to my quantum physics post.

Magick? Coincidence? Retribution? Bad Luck?

Its worth pondering… or at least being careful what you do to your voodoo dolls… or blow up dolls.

I posted a picture of my miniatures on my photoblog. Its not a great picture and I can’t get Picasa to save the sharpening changes. Schtupid Picasa.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Hump Day

June 1, 2005 at 10:30 am (Uncategorized)


This morning I was skimming radio stations as I sat in traffic. It never fails that when I have the opportunity to get to work early some dipshit, or in this case, four dipshits, decided to crash their vehicles in my lane of travel. I heard “Sherry” by Steve Perry on one station, “Angie” by the Rolling Stones on another and that reminded me that I heard “Amie” by Pure Prairie League while Nate and I were eating dinner last night. I wonder if Vince Gill knew when he sang “Amie” that he would indeed marry an Amy. In celebration I played, “My Michelle” on the way in the parking garage since G ‘N’ R echoes so nicely especially when I’m behind someone who is actually going the speed limit of FIVE MILES PER HOUR!!!

This reminded me of a guy I dated very briefly. I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember his name. I can see his face though. I am redeemed. The guy was a writer and musician, something along the lines of Violent Femmes or, I don’t know, he was eclectic okay? He wrote a song about me. It was a strange little song, which was fitting. I want to think it had something about me being hit by a car and landing in a tulip field, maybe it was a poppy field…. heh.

So, out there somewhere is a song about me. Rock on dudes!


*Sigh* T-Bird finally got a job at a local grocery food chain (BASTARDKROGERS). So, that was good. She goes into work Monday and then calls me as I was in my cathartic-I’m-in-the-sun-hanging-clothes-life-is-good state of mind. She asks something about me and then says, “When did I become such a pussbag?” She starts crying.

She tells me she had been called into work early and she was discussing which register to work with a gentleman and he said, “Register nine,” and she says, “I can’t work that register.” To clarify, there is something wrong with the counter on register nine and its hard for her to work there because she’s so short (she says 5’2″ on a good day… pfffffffft!) Anyway, the guy looks at her and says, “What? You’re not that fat are you?” Har har har har… uh huh.

T-Bird, who has a temper like a Tasmanian Devil, a one millimeter fuse, and a mouth the size of the Grand Canyon, you might as well throw a match on a trail of gas-o-line cuz she’s gonna blow. Okay, the old T-Bird. The new and improved T-Bird turned tail and walked out the door. She was so mad and hurt that she was afraid of what she would say and what she would do if she stayed.

She talked to a supervisor who told her to take the day off, yada, yada, blah, blah, come back tomorrow, he’ll need to apologize, blah, blah. T-Bird thought that was bullshit since it wasn’t even a punishment but she decided to just bite her tongue until she could find other employment (she had an interview for a much, much better job – $10.00 an hour vs. $5.50 an hour – yesterday), but, BASTARDKROGERS decided that, “they were going to let her go.”

Why doesn’t Blogger have emoticons?

That just stinks. I’m proud of her for not killing him but more importantly, I’m proud because she has enough pride now to admit when something hurts her feelings instead of laughing it off.

Mean people suck donkey balls. Don’t be a mean donkey ball sucking person.

Permalink Leave a Comment

« Previous page