::Let Me Clear My Throat::

I am So. Frackin'. HAPPY! Just being able to truthfully say that is a huge deal for me, but seriously.  It's like I got a dump tank worth of happy just dropped in my lap overnight and I opened it and it exploded on me.  Holy crap...I'm lightheaded. 2012 was not exactly a banner year for me. Granted, it had it's ups, so I'm not knocking anything, but as for the personal stuff, yeah, not so awesome.  I spent most of it with a painted on smile, but inside I was pretty much crushed all the time.  I was crazy lonely, and the outlook on my love life was pretty grim. I wrote it here so many times that I got sick of saying it and wishing for it to change, and after a while the wishing just stopped.  Of course, that's when the all encompassing Universe decided to drop off a li'l sumn sumn, just when I wasn't looking for it.   I'm not gonna go into crazy, drawn out detail, cuz I kinda just want that stuff for myself for now, and if things don't

So my faithful reader and close friend Ms. Berry asked that I follow up my incarceration experience with a blog describing my stay.  I kicked the idea around for a bit, wondering how, exactly, I could encompass the magnitude of that sort of thing and put it into words that make sense and do it justice.  Then I realized that in itself is completely fucking impossible; this shit is gonna be as watered down as a drink in a downtown club.   In order for me to give you even a semblance of an idea of what it was like, I'd have to throw a Thesaurus' worth of adjectives at you.  It's sad to say that prison is preferable to the County lockup, but that's as real as it gets. What is it like?  Loud, routine, dirty, lonely, bizarre, smelly, boring, demeaning, annoying, claustrophobic, scary, enlightening, and a hideous blow to my fashion senses (I realize now that dusty blue is just NOT in my color wheel). It's one of those things that all the adjectives in the world couldn&#

Well, kinda... Dear Abby decided to answer my plea for advice...even tho I completely forgot I asked for it. Daughter Must Zip Her Lips With Mother Who Opens Hers By  Abigail Van Buren  |  Dear Abby  –  Wed, Dec 5, 2012 Email Share 1 Print DEAR ABBY : When I was an adolescent, my father molested me. It took me 20 years to finally confide this secret to my mother. Afterward it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. That feeling lasted about two minutes. That's how long it took for her to get on the phone and spread the news to everyone she could think of. This was two years ago and, after repeatedly asking her to stop, she continues to tell. Two days ago, I caught her spilling the beans to an acquaintance she hadn't spoken to in more than a decade. We got into a heated argument, and she told me she will say what she wants, whenever she wants, to whomever she wants. My feelings are  not  considered, even though I w