Co-worker Road Trip, YAY…….NOT!

Today, I find myself on a trip to Lubbock Texas to the home Campus of our University.  I won’t say which university,  but if I said Lubbock y’all will figure it out, lol.  I was told we’d be flying there because there are nine of us that have to go for an entire week and a half of training on a new cloud based proposal software system that our department spend thousands upon thousands of dollars to acquire.  In any case back to the “I thought we were going to fly there” part of this story, well it turns out we were but, apparently there are no direct flights from El Paso to Lubbock, none, not one!  So, in order to dispatch with the whole we have to fly around the entire state of Texas just to get to our destination, those wonderful people who are in charge with our travel decided to rent us an 18 passenger van so we could (hold onto your knickers kids) DRIVE to Lubbock!

Mad Men meme II

Yes, you heard that right, I’m in a large white van in our parking lot right this minute on my department issued laptop, waiting for everyone else that was supposed to be here by 7:15 this morning (including our fearful leader) so we could hit the road no later than 8am.  I am, at the moment the only one on board in this huge van, but I commandeered the last seat in this van because I do not feel like being all Chatty Kathy with the other eight coworkers that will arrive (eventually) while we’re on the road for five and a half hours to our destination.  Oh dear lawd, why, why me?  Why do I have to be punished in this cruel, cruel way?!?  The ride alone will be torture, because someone at some point will suggest we play road games.


Not like the types of road games I’d be okay with like, let’s see how long you can stay silent, the first one to talk loses.  Or, I’m going to fall asleep and see how long I can sleep without waking up by myself.   My coworkers are a type of chipper that is okay for the office, but pure fucking hell when we’re not in a professional environment.  We’ll stop for breakfast/coffee before we leave and that too is a nightmare, because no one will ever order their coffee without contemplating what type of coffee they will get or the pastry that they will choose to go with said coffee.  The only positive thing about this coworker road trip is that Female Sheldon is long gone and I won’t ever have to deal with her invading my space in the van and listen to her “talk.”  Because she never just talked, she had no volume or filter, and if she’d be going on this trip, my eardrums would have burst by the time we got to Lubbock.  Or have to see her dead shark eyes just stare at me while I slept because she had the bad habit of just staring straight at you, no emotion, no facial expression no nothing.  Oh I’m so glad she’s gone, really, y’all have no idea!

But I digress…….it’s 8:05am and I’m still the only one here (on time) and sitting in the van with my luggage and laptop waiting on all the other eight slackers to get their prissy asses here so we can get this coworker circus on the road.  I surmise that when we leave, we won’t get past the city limits when someone is going to want us to stop so they can have a bathroom break, ugh kill me now! I feel about as frustrated as Brad Pitt did regarding Leo DeCaprio in Once Upon a Time In Hollywood (yes I saw it this weekend, so worth it) right now.  I’m reading the email sent by our director on what time we “all” should be here, you know to make sure I wasn’t the one that misread the instructions about the time.  Nope it says “No later than 7:15” and the bitch (our director) is not here yet!!

Slap Coworker meme

But another coworker just got here and she said as I sat in the van, “Oh you’re here early, ha, ha, ha, you’re working? Wow talk about dedication” as she stares at me on my laptop and trying to make her way to the back seat with me, lucky for me I have my huge work bag and purse next to me, not moving my stuff so she could sit.  She just stared at me and I told her that it said 7:15 in our email and the bitch still argues with me.  “No, it said 8am” and pull up the email and show her (kind of annoyed) because she’s one of those that doesn’t read emails or email strings from the bottom to the current information.  That’s such a pet peeve of mine, but anyway she sees the email and says “Oh, I saw it said be here at 8……ha, ha, ha….”

Husky meme

I give her the stare from hell and go back to writing my post.  She finally got the hint and sat in the first seat behind the driver’s side.  She’s unbelievably cheerful, even more than most and it gets on my nerves.  I’m waiting for one of my other coworkers to get here, see me in the back of the van and make the same stupid comment he always does…..”Oh so I see you’re isolating yourself from the rest of us (fake laughs wildly), you know being antisocial is bad for you.”

Ron Burgandy meme II

Well, all the other slackers have finally begun to arrive so I’m going to sign off now, and will probably post updates when I have a chance.   But since I’m going to be gone for an entire week and a half………….I will probably not be in the greatest of moods.  So keep the torch going blogger friends, hope and pray that I don’t get taken to jail for smothering my hotel roommate in the middle of the night…….

Snoring coworker meme II

Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!

The Huntress 915


Trying to Find Peace of Mind In the Aftermath of Tragedy – The Huntress Is Angry.

In the recent light of the mass shootings here in El Paso and Dayton, the very core of beliefs I once held has been shaken, so much so that I’ve begun to rethink a lot of things that I’d held onto since I was a kid.  The one obvious thing was, my parents were prejudice, not racist but they let their prejudice cloud whatever since of right or wrong they might have had.  They would always comment that Mexican’s were low class that they came to this country to take advantage of the “system” and take jobs from American’s.  As a kid growing up on the border I knew, we all knew that our small town was predominantly Hispanic/Latino/Mexican.  With one Cuban and two Puerto Rican neighbors peppered about our sleepy little town.  These were my own parents saying these things, and I grew up constantly questioning their way of thinking.   When I got married my in-laws were from Mexico, and at least my MIL’s side of the family perpetuated a lot of the stereotypes I grew up hearing from my parents.  But not all of them, and I learned to adapt to my own thinking and ideals.  So after I became an adult I began to question and correct my parents on what they believed and to actually scold them because they were, after all of Mexican decent and I found it terribly hypocritical and I was having none of that, especially because I didn’t want my boys to hear my parents demean their roots and heritage.

We also happened to be in Texas, where conservative thinking and holding on strong to every word of the U.S Constitution and the Bill of Rights was, well held onto with great pride and constantly misquoted and misinterpreted.  Specifically the Second Amendment, the right to keep and bear arms.  My dad had hunting rifles, at least four of them of different sizes and calibers, all placed above our fireplace displayed with pride.  My grandfathers, both of them had rifles, and my maternal grandfather, who served in WWII and was a very proud American, had three hand guns and took his grand-kids (all nine of them) out to the desert to learn how to shoot those guns.

My maternal grandfather was the one who taught me and my cousin’s gun safety and how to handle a gun/rifle and none of us though anything was wrong with this.  Since becoming an adult I’d never thought about getting a gun or any weapon for safety because I felt safe in the Sun City because we are, at least 97% of us, of Hispanic/Latin/Mexican origin.  I am a fourth generation American, my boys are second on their dad’s side and fifth on my side.  But feeling safe was somehow taken for granted, until August 3, 2019.  As I watched this heinous act unfold only four miles from where I live, I like so many others in our city felt helpless.

Then the aftermath of it all hit all of us, especially those of us of Mexican decent, like a preverbal ton of bricks…..we were being hunted.  This came to light after the murderer’s so called “manifesto” was found online.  He drove all the way from a Dallas suburb to our town, to hunt and kill “Mexicans” on purpose!  So, I’m going to set aside the political correctness and proper language now, because this Huntress is FUCKING PISSED!!

The impact of what happened was nothing short of shocking, for all of us who live here in El Paso.  Especially when we found out who this person was, where he was from and why he did what he did.  People have tried to rationalize this and give this young, stupid and apparently easily influenced 21 year old asshole the benefit of the doubt.  Someone that probably didn’t have any familial structure to teach him right from wrong, and was left to his own devices while his parents tried to find themselves or figure out what to do after divorce all the while ignoring the little bastard.

But this is after all, only speculation as we all try to come up with reasons as to why he choose El Paso to commit this crime which seemed to be motivated by white supremacist and Neo-Nazi rhetoric.  And this is only one of my theories, because my boys were also put through the emotional whirlwind that is divorce and none of them are out with warped ideals and taking up shooting practice on the human race.  Because I made it a point, despite their father being out of their lives, after the divorce to show them right from wrong, to make sure they knew I loved them and I never ignored their needs and learned to look for warning signs of emotional turmoil.  Which let’s face it wasn’t easy because I was working full time and going to school full time, but I made sure to let them know above anything else, they were my priority, ALWAYS!

Since this mass murder occurred my city has been on edge, everything everyone does is a careful and calculated thought process.  This happened only weeks before several school districts were scheduled to return to school.  All of the Walmart’s and Target’s in El Paso have El Paso Police Department uniformed officers at every entrance/exit at the moment, which makes one a bit uneasy and safe at the same time.  This should not be commonplace, we should be able to walk into any store and feel safe.   Memorial services have been taking place since the shooting happened, it’s so unbelievably sad, I don’t think a day’s gone by that I haven’t cried.  As news about the killer comes to light a lot of us have realized that sadness has turned to anger and outrage.

His manifesto is supposedly (I say supposedly because it hasn’t been released to the public) a long-winded rant about how Mexican’s were taking over Texas and he was afraid of their liberal views and also worried about how these people would slowly but surely turn Texas from a Red State to a Blue one.  He also mentioned how he was afraid of Mexican’s or anyone of Hispanic/Latin background were taking over “his” country and choking out his European heritage.  Now, let me get this straight a twenty-one year old asshole, still wet behind the ears is going to tell ME about how he’s worried that HIS country is being taken over by OTHER cultures?! OH HELL TO THE FUCKING NO!!!

First of all, let me put this out there y’all, the United States of America is a melting pot of all cultures, races, ethnicity’s and it is NOT pure breed WHITE! No one is pure breed white, and assholes like him actually believes this!  First of all let me address his thinking of “his” country, OUR country had people here before the Europeans even set foot on this big ol’ rock we call America.  It had indigenous peoples, Native American’s, really…… that’s why we call them NATIVE AMERICANS because they were here first you white supremacist asshole pricks!

Texas wasn’t even a state in the US until 1845, it belonged to Mexico, so the saying “We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us” is true in every sense. Don’t even get me started on the Alamo, really you don’t want to go there with me……

Also constantly hearing “Go back to your country or where you came from” pisses me the hell off even more.  I’ve been told that twice in my lifetime, once as a child and once as an adult.  The adult version yelled back “I am where I come from bitch, come closer so we can discuss this, no? I thought so!”  This was here, in El Paso in my community where we are a cultural mosaic.  This woman was white, but I’m sure she wasn’t pure breed.

When I hear Lenny Kravitz’ song American Woman, I don’t think of a whitewashed version of a female.  I picture a very diverse group of women who have roots in many different countries.


Here in El Paso, we speak Spanglish, code switching is the clinical term for it, we always have and we always will.  Now some Latinos are being condemned for speaking Spanish as far away as Hawaii!  We are being language shamed because others feel entitled to share their ignorant and misplaced opinion about how we should speak.  To those of you who do all I have to say is this, it’s not our fault we are multicultural and you are stuck in your one dimensional life with your one dimensional language, go fuck yourselves!  If you think that only English should be spoken, then you’re in the wrong country people, get a clue or better yet get an education to learn another language OTHER than English!

During the horrible years of slavery, slaves were brought to the US and sold and they intermingled with Native American’s as well as many other cultures, especially Hispanic/Latin/Mexican’s this is where the words Mestizo and Mulato come from.  The fact that we have so many different cultures in us it makes us richer as a people, we have learned so much from each other there is no excuse for any of us to single out one race or culture for extermination, NO EXCUSE.

We as American’s have so many different cultures/race/heritage running through our veins it’s impossible to narrow down where and whom we come from.  So the fact that these white nationalist “believe” they have a pure blood pedigree is fucking stupid not to mention naive.  Also for them to think there are “pure breed” people out there, yeah right, keep lying to yourselves if it makes you feel better.  We’re all mutts, we don’t belong to just one people and to think this way, well it makes me question their intelligence.  Let’s turn now to the turn of the 20th century and the influx of immigration from Europe shall we?  Thousands upon thousands of Irish, Italian, Greek, Hungarian, Slovaks, Russian, Polish, German, Chinese, Japanese, Indian and countless others were coming to the United States because they were fleeing religious, racial and political persecution, civil war or poverty.  And all of them, and I do mean all of them suffered one type of prejudice or another because of where they came from or who they were.  They were thought of as expendable and they took jobs doing things that others would never do.  The Chinese helped build the railroad, the Mexican’s helped with crops and agriculture, I could go on and on.

So tell me again white nationalists asshole pricks how you are pure breed and only have Aryan blood in you?  Because even your idol, Adolf Hitler was half Jewish remember that, no? Oh right because you only believe what you want to believe, got it……ignorant motherfuckers.   Even when the Unites States was a colony of the British Empire, those Brits back then weren’t pure breed either, nope they had all kinds of different blood running through their bodies.

This is just a drop in the bucket of emotions that I’m feeling right now, what happened here was a senseless crime.  Where do people like this stupid kid get off thinking that he can control the lives of others? Oh right, that white supremacist thinking that is perpetuated by the so-called president of this country.  Yes I’m getting political, when one doesn’t condemn acts like these and stays silent, idiots like white nationalist think it’s okay because the president doesn’t really say anything.  Because let’s face it, the mofo can’t really talk to begin with, so it only perpetuates hate and intolerance.  The only thing I’m glad about is this, I live in Texas and we are a capital punishment state and have always thought that the punishment should fit the crime.  And we are a hard state to get away from capital punishment, many have criticized Texas for this.  Hell even Thelma and Louise didn’t want to come to Texas for any mischief due to how criminals are handled here.

It was reported last week that this murderer was being held in isolation here at the El Paso county jail.  I thought to myself, why don’t they just put in general population? Oh right, because he’d be dead by the end of the day being locked up with a bunch of angry Mexican’s.  Even inmates in the jail have been reported to say they’d like a shot at him, and I’m all for it believe me.  No, I don’t have any compassion for someone who’s killed twenty-two of this towns great citizens, not one ounce of compassion.  If I had my way, after trial, conviction and sentencing I’d have him be killed exactly how he murdered those twenty-two people.  I’d rent out a grocery store somewhere that was about to go out of business.  Pay generously for the use of the fully stocked building, lock it up nice and tight, made sure there was no way of escape, let him loose in the store, turn off the lights and have him hunted like the goddamned dog he is!  No I don’t care that he’s someone son, brother, cousin or nephew he’s a fucking cold heartless ignorant killer and deserves to die that way!

Have a bunch of snipers hunt him down until he’s dead, that’s my kind of Texas justice, and no it doesn’t make it right.  But I’m pissed as hell right now, because there are people dead that shouldn’t be and even though I only knew one of them and only casually (she went to school with my youngest and died shielding her infant son from gunfire and her husband died as well) it shouldn’t have happened!  Which brings me to gun control, again I live in Texas where the right to bear arms is taken seriously.  Red flag laws will only work if they are put into place and even then, they may not be enough.  We are one of the countries in the entire world with the weakest gun laws on the planet.  Before what happened on August 3rd I firmly believed in the right to carry your gun, license to carry classes have sky rocketed in the last week and a half here.  Two out of three of my sons are going to enroll and I thought about joining them.  But what will that fix really?  There were at least four people inside the Walmart that day that were licensed to carry and not one of them had their weapon with them, two of them were soldiers from Ft. Bliss.

But the sale of automatic weapons is absolutely and totally absurd, but let me clarify, handguns, rifles and shotguns are vastly different than automatic firearms.

Most people that own firearms are in the category of handguns, rifles and shotguns, it is rare that the average citizen owns a fully automatic AK-47.  But that doesn’t mean one can’t go out on and buy one if we wanted to, just like the little prick sitting in the El Paso County jail did.  Gun laws for the protection of people against others with questionable intelligence and/or mental capacity need to be put in place.  Or a ban automatic weapons all together, no private citizen should be able to own a military style assault firearm!  If you don’t feel safe with a Smith & Wesson or Ruger then your intentions are not to protect you or your family or your property and are more nefarious in my opinion. Yes people will disagree with me because I’m not including ALL firearms.  But this is what I strongly believe, you have your opinions and I have mine.

On a side note (a bit Bridget Jones-ish, as always) as I was researching the types of guns for this post during lunch, campus police showed up in my office to inquire that our firewall had detected someone on campus was “Googling” firearms.  And here I thought our firewall didn’t work…..so I spent half an hour talking to the Sergeant (whom I know and is a friend of mine) why I was doing so.  He sat here in my office and expressed his sadness and anger over what happened as well.  It was a sort of cathartic for both of us.  As he left he got up and hugged me and began to walk out of my office.  As he did he was silent and when he got to my door he turned around and said “Oh yeah before I forget, knock it off with scaring the IT guys will you?  I don’t want to have to walk you out in handcuffs because people think your buying guns while at work.”  I smiled and told him sure thing and reassured him it was only research, he smiled and left.  I need to have a serious talk with those skittish IT dudes, I swear!

This will be my last post about the tragedy that befell my city on August 3, 2019, writing about what happened has helped.  Many people in my office have sought counseling because again, just because we didn’t know anyone who was killed personally, the stigma that we are now a culture/race of people who is being targeted because of who we are and where our roots come from is unnerving to say the least.

But let me be crystal clear about one thing, I am first and foremost an American, I was born in the United States, I have lived here my entire life, so have my boys, my parents, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  I am an AMERICAN no matter what my linage, and I am proud of this fact, this is MY country and no one, absolutely NO ONE can take that away from me.

Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!

The Huntress 915


Real Neat Blog Award

I’ve been nominated for the Real Neat Blog Award! A great big ol’ thank you to Deb over at Being Aunt Debbie!

The Rules of this Award are:

  • Put the award logo on your blog.
  • Answer the 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
  • Thank the person who nominated you and add a link to their blog.
  • Nominate any number of people linking to their blogs and let them know you nominated them by commenting on their blogs.
  • Come up with 7 questions for the people you nominated.

The Questions I will Answer:

  1. If you could be any animal for a day, which would you choose?  I would be a Lycan, no it’s not an animal, well its part animal its part wolf.  And yes this is my answer.  I would be a werewolf for one day, uh night, yeah I’d be a werewolf for one entire night……watch out people!
  2. What is your favorite cuisine?  I’m going to have to go with rustic Italian, like Cacio e Pepe, that is so simple but sooooo delicious and very easy to make.
  3. What is your biggest passion? Chocolate….enough said.
  4. If money were no object, where would you live, and why?  I’d live in Michigan, GO BLUE!
  5. If aliens exist, what do you think they look like?  They do exist, look into the windows of the White House.
  6. What is your favorite thing to shop for?  Clothes….oh wait, shoes, no wait, purses, no jewelry…..
  7. Do you believe in reincarnation?  No, I believe that once we die our souls leave our bodies and they go wherever the Lord wants them to go.  I’m thinking I’m going to need a lot of sunscreen, tequila and Margarita mix for when my soul leaves my body.  But I’ll be in good company, lol.


My Nominees are:

Heather at Hopelessly Heather

Simon at Beyond the Infinite

Maggie at RomComDojo

Here are my questions:

  1. If you could make one wish, to help someone else out, what would it be?
  2. What little known fact would you tell people about yourself?
  3. If you could meet any historical figure, who would it be?
  4. Kindle or actual book, and why?
  5. If you had a soul-superhero, who would it be?
  6. Tea and Crumpets or Chocolate Cake and Budweiser?
  7. Led Zepplin or The Who?

And that’s it, because Aunt Deb and I have the same followers and we follow the same bloggers, lmao!  So she’s nominated a lot of people and I have too in prior awards but hey, we’re all award winners if you ask me!

So blog on people, blog on!

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

The Huntress915


Not In My Town….

That’s what everyone says, this kind of thing, this type of violence won’t ever happen in my town.  This type of thing only happens in big cities, New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Austin, but not in my town, not in El Paso.

Today has to go down as one of the saddest days in El Paso’s history, today we, our city, our community was affected by a mass shooting.  Today, El Paso, one of the safest cities in all of the United States, fell victim to a lone gunman, who’s motives are not yet known.

Today, El Paso is a lot sadder, less brighter, less exuberant because today, we, all of us were affected by one person shooting at random.  Today my hometown is a national tragedy, plastered on worldwide news outlets and social media.  Today, my hometown was scarred by the actions of one individual who didn’t know those he killed and injured.  El Paso may not be as cosmopolitain as New York, it may not be as cutting edge as Los Angeles, it may not be the hub of innovation, but there is one thing my hometown is, and that is resilient.

We are an amalgam of many cultures, races, nationalities and personalities, we are El Paso.  Today, someone, who isn’t even from here, tried to tear us apart.  Today, someone took lives that didn’t belong to them, tried to strike terror into people going about their day.  Innocent people, innocent El Pasoans were a target for one individual who’s actions for a couple of minutes robbed this world of souls that might have changed our world, your world for the better.

Today El Paso will struggle, tomorrow we will try to make sense of this tragic, horrible thing.  Tomorrow we will mourn those lost, comfort those that were hurt in order for them to recover, and thank God for all those first responders who ran in, when everyone else ran out.  Tomorrow we will face the harsh reality of what happened one hot August morning in 2019 in my town.

My hometown will not fall, we will fix what needs fixing, will heal the way only El Pasoans have in the past, and will in the future.  We will move forward with the the scar of what happened today, in my town.  We will face tomorrow with the strength and courage that only El Paso and all of its people can.  Tomorrow El Paso will begin to find it’s way back to where it once was, it’s people, our community, our city will still shine even through the darkness of tragedy.

A Heartbroken Huntress


Train-Wreck Love

Sometimes love is a goddamned train wreck, at least for some of us, the few walking wounded, the zombies of defunct love.  The euphoria one feels when you first fall in love fades into a thunderstorm of softball size hail pelting you from all sides.  The train wreck type of love feels like getting stuck in quicksand or a tar pit of emotion.  You struggle to understand how something that should feel good has you trapped, and the more you struggle to break free, the more you sink into its dark, happiness sucking, emotion destroying abyss.

Its called train wreck love because it feels like your standing on the track wanting to feel good all the while you can see the freight train barreling down towards you, horn blaring, light flashing and diesel engine roaring until its too late.  In the end, you’re standing on there alone while that humongous train is on its side, derailed smoking and on fire, train cars spilling their contents all over the sides of the tracks, just like your heart.  Your left physically unscathed but emotionally you feel like that diesel engine, no longer humming, wondering what the hell just happened to get you where you are now, unable to function and dying from the wounds.

We’re left alone in your very own vacuum of solace to wonder, think, contemplate, and finally come to the conclusion that it might be that you are destine to be the type that will only have train wreck love.  For most, love is a sunshiny feeling, they are full of joy, newness, goddamned cotton candy clouds following them around for the rest of their lives.  They know nothing of what train wreck love is like, for the few who have felt this way it is mostly when we, are in love alone.  When we love those that will not love us back and until we can finally step off the track and let that train pass, we will never break away.


The Huntress Is Not A Man Basher

A couple of days ago a “guy” friend of mine that reads my blog but doesn’t blog himself, gave me some ideas for some future blog posts.  He sat in front of me as we had lunch together and after he gave me his thoughts on my I’m Stressed blog post, he said this….

You know I love your blog, your hilarious and you have a way with words but, maybe you could tone down the man-bashing

*Gasp*……What the literal fuck, I thought to myself.

Gasp gif
What?! I’m not a man-basher!!

I pondered his reply for a bit as I ate my lunch across from him as he ate the biggest, juiciest apple in all of appledom.  His crunchy-bitey consumption made my contemplation just a tad difficult.  But then I thought, wait a cotton-pickin’ minute here, I don’t bash “men”, I bash ONE man in particular, okay two if you count my idiot ex-hubs.  But man-bash in general, no siree, I’m a lover of men (DO NOT take that out of context y’all, you know who you are!)

context meme

Before I told him to desist on his huge Granny Smith, crunchy-bitey noisy pre-lunch apple (who eats an apple BEFORE they eat their lunch?) I thought, I am not a man-basher, and I don’t man-bash, man-hate, manslaughter (unless its justified) any man, and here’s proof.  I’ve gotten to know a lot of the male bloggers since I began my blog a little over a year ago.  I have nothing but respect and admiration for them.  My friend mentioned that my male blogger friends don’t count, but of course they do I said, and here’s proof why, they’ve given me a new, higher respect for men in general, they have officially re-educated and rehabilitated me to a new Huntress with their positive reinforcement and kindness.

Simon from Beyond the Infinite  – He’s a techy, sciency, lover of sci-fi and we’ve had fun getting to know each other’s blogs, I comment on his, he comments on mine (sometimes, lol).  He’s from England, and we’ve had that America/England, who’s better, bigger, more sophisticated, what’s better English food or American food (I know who’s right here, lol) conversation/argument.  But I’ve never, ever man-bashed him, his blog or even his choices about anything.  He has opinions, and I respect them because he’s never done anything to offend or hurt me in anyway.  He is one of my very first male blogger friends.

Bryan Fagan at A Crack In The Pavement –  Our very first interaction was about muscle car porn, yep you heard that right.  And believe it or not, so many would have, could have taken that conversation out of context.  But Bryan was ever the gentleman and has been ever since.  Okay the car porn was about a 1960’s something red Corvette with white leather interior.  We’ve been blog buddies ever since, and he too has always been supportive of me and other bloggers in their writing.

Paul at The Captain’s Speech – What can I say about Paul? Other than his writing talent is in a league of its own, how he manages to have entire conversations by himself, I mean that IS talent! Or he might actually have a twin we know nothing about but I’ll let him tell us in due time.  He’s a Bachelorette watcher/commentator and has taught us all to clean windows and adapt to the new Twitters (as my mom would say).  He’s a font of information and he has not once, NOT ONCE uttered a curse word in his blog.  Well, not that I’ve found and believe me I’ve looked really, really hard!

Christopher at Freethinkers Anonymous –  He was also one of the very first blogger friends I came across when I began writing.  He has what I’d always thought was my dream job, he works in a library!  He’s posted about art, his hometown of Nashville and all the goings-on thereof.  He’s also posted about rejection (writing rejections) in THE most comical way possible.  He has an outlook on life that is precious, and he’s always been nothing but supportive of my blog and posts.  He once offered to rent me a black Trans-Am so I could pull a Smokey and the Bandit drive to work, he mentioned that if he could he would and that’s enough for me.

Tom at Tom Being Tom – Tom’s love of golden retrievers is priceless, his ability to explain what’s going on in his life will almost always make you stop and think about life itself.  He was brutally honest in his recent birthday post about all the challenges he was faced with facing financial ups and downs, which I know all too well.  But he’s always had words of wisdom to share and yet he’s another man-blogger (hey I should trademark that) that has always been supportive of my blog along with so many others.

Evil at Evil Squirrels Nest – Lover of all things squirrely and crittery (yes that’s a word, I just made up) who’s views on everyday happenings bring a sarcastic smile to my face and sometimes wonder why someone has not invented mental Clorox because, well let’s just say sometimes one needs mental Clorox! But in spite of his hate of squirrel haters, humidity and rain, he’s a great blogger friend.  Also he’s a pretty awesome graphic artist as well.

John at Nowhere Tribune –  His tales of armadillo tattoos and rampant teacakes will have you laughing, crying and scratching your head.  A fellow Texan and a lover of nature, vacation mishapper, the Clark Griswold if you will of family vacations (that’s a compliment by the way!)  He’s been another man-blogger that has remained true to Texan nature, a gentleman always…..that probably carries a gun but that’s okay, I respect that.

There are so many more of you I couldn’t possibly include everyone, but I thank you just as much!  I have a couple of male friends in my life, two of whom read my blog and one who knew of Lestat, and all of my male blogger friends whom I respect and admire.  So, I’m not a man-basher, I don’t man-bash men in general.  I bash those men that have given me a reason to bash them, and only them in particular, whereas their stupidity, incompetence, mental instability and everything else they did to get me to the selective man-bashing I do.  I love men (again GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER, you know who you are!) and even with my online dating debacles I wasn’t bashing all men, I was bashing some dates and their bad behavior.

Hey, it’s not my fault if they made bad first impressions, I know I’ve made a bad impression on men, especially when they see you making that bad impression on the hood of their Ford F-150 with a baseball bat or sledge hammer, but hey that guy deserved it.

Gwen gif
I’m sure he had good insurance

I have met a few good men, and they are kind, hard working decent men, who take care of themselves and their families.  I have known a few single dads who have worked two jobs to support their kids, who will always, ALWAYS prefer to spend the weekend with their kids instead of going out partying.  I’ve known of some dads who have full custody of their kids and work tirelessly to make sure they are clothed, fed, sheltered and most of all, LOVED!  I’ve also known some men who are generous, loving, giving and selfless when it comes to their wives, girlfriends, sisters and moms.

So, I don’t man bash, unless someone, some man, does something stupid, to me or one of my friends that is plain mean, selfish, or self serving without thinking of the consequences or how he will hurt another human being.  A great big thank you to all my male-blogger friends and your continuous support, encouragement and respect.

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

Then Huntress915


I’m Stressing Y’all!!!

It’s been ten months since I last saw, talked to or had any sort of communication with Lestat the emotional vampire.  I consider this a huge milestone in my life because since I dropped his ass like a hot potato so many good and positive things have happened that even I’m having a hard time processing.  I found much inspiration from Tom over at Tom Being Tom and his post Happy Birthday Tom, you can read it here.  His post was about his fifty-first his birthday and how he himself was amazed at all the things he’d accomplished by the time this birthday rolled around.  He went on to compare his younger Tom self to his fifty-one year old self, which triggered me to stop and contemplate that maybe that would be a good idea.  Thanks Tom for the inspiration!

My journey began twenty years ago in November of 1999, I was twenty-nine years old, newly divorced, new single mom, unemployed driving around a SUV I couldn’t possibly afford, with my new ex-husband bitching and complaining he wanted my/his Ford Expedition back because he wasn’t going to pay for it if I was going to keep it.  Fair enough asshole, come and get it, and he did only to give it to his second wife (whom he married literally eight months AFTER our divorce was final and she crashed and totaled it, but meh, he wanted it back right?  Talk about a man that couldn’t be by himself, when he came to pick up the SUV I saw a newly inked tattoo on his forearm that read….”Born to Be Free” which made me laugh.  Then it made me laugh even harder when I found out he’d married only eight months after our divorce, as Bugs Bunny would say…”What a Maroon!”

I had to borrow my mom’s car to go job hunting, and soon found a job that didn’t pay nearly enough to support me and my kids.  But I had to take it, and take it I did.  During all of this I met a wonderful man whom I believed was the “great love of my life” and his name was Lestat.  He was accomplished, business savvy, he was a contractor and well established within the contracting community in El Paso.

He was romantic, charming, loving (so I thought) and I saw myself spending the rest of my life with him.  But as the forty-nine year old me looks back at the twenty-nine year old me, I see so many things that weren’t clear then.  The twenty year journey of struggle and heartbreak had one common theme and that was Lestat.  Nothing and I do mean nothing went right when I was still with him, I struggled financially, and I tried several times to buy a house that ended badly.  I lived with my parents which was a disaster, and I continued to struggle financially and emotionally.  Then my two oldest boys decided they wanted to go back to live with their dad, and that was devastating for me, I was dragging my heart behind me on the ground.

Surprise meme

But I had to try to understand that they were mostly doing it so they could remain at their school with their friends, to keep some sort of normalcy in the disaster that was their parents divorce.  The least I could do was try to make their lives as easy as possible.  So I marched on trying to make sense of the chaotic life that was following me.  At twenty-nine, I was lost financially, emotionally, mentally and even physically as well.  My knee began to hurt, my hair began to fall out, I began having stomach issues which I thought might be my gall bladder, but it turned out to be a small ulcer.

As I turned thirty-three things seemed to be getting better, I was hired at UTEP, I got my very first car as a single adult, although I still lived with my parents.  I helped them out as best I could, but living with my mom was a nightmare in itself.  Living with a narcist mother is hard, especially when you pay rent and she still demands to know everything you do, where you go and who you’re with, her excuse was “I’m your mother and I DESERVE to know what you’re doing because you live under my roof!”  One day after a heated argument I told her “Wrong mother, I pay rent, and I’m thirty-three I don’t have to tell you shit!” then as a last resort she called me a bad mother, boy that was definitely the pot calling the kettle black.

But I persevered with Lestat still in my life wreaking havoc with his selfish demands and his indecision about getting his overdue divorce.  Last night as I lay awake at 2:47am because of all the things that were going through my mind, worrying, stressing and contemplating every little thing in my life.  I realized that for ten entire months nothing but positive things have happened to me since Lestat’s exorcism from my life.  At twenty-nine I was still naive, too trusting and too in love with this man to see what I should have.  At forty-nine I’ve become aware of so many things that it’s actually surprising to me, and sometimes I think to myself, why didn’t I see this before?  The answer? Lestat was a bad influence and I had rose colored beer goggles on, and because of him I’ve gone through some very life altering things.  At twenty-nine I wasn’t financially responsible enough to keep up with my bills.  I went from paying off one car to getting a newer, nicer car which only added to my financial instability.  I lived in apartments and rental homes that at times I couldn’t afford, I spent way too much on things I didn’t need.  I tried in vain to get Lestat to see that I was responsible enough for him to marry (yep you heard that right) that I was good enough for him, that I could be the person he wanted me to be.

At forty-nine I realize that the twenty-nine year old me was so stupid to put this much faith, love and devotion into a man who now I know doesn’t deserve what I had to give.  A man who I spent so much time trying to prove that I was good enough to marry, when in reality he was the one that wasn’t/isn’t good enough for me.

I'm Done Talking Linda meme

From twenty-nine to forty-two I was blinded by what I thought was love and went through so many financial disasters, one vehicle repossession, one bankruptcy and a hell of a lot of money lost due to my irresponsible fiscal nature.  From twenty-nine until now I’ve had that one, white knuckling, bank draining bankruptcy, six jobs, two degrees, rebuild my credit which was a slow and tedious process, I raised three boys and one cat with attitude.  I’ve finally gotten to the point where I’m realizing that I’m accomplishing what I want.

Since Lestat’s expulsion from my life……..

Antiope meme
Literally, so tired.

I’ve paid off my debts, I’ve gotten my Master’s degree, I have a free and clear title to my car, I have an additional retirement account, I have one credit card and………… (can you believe it?) I bought a house y’all!!!!  I bought my very first house, on my own, with no one’s help!  I did it all alone and of course with the help of my awesome realtor, she’s helped a lot.  I should have done this a long time ago, I should have gotten this accomplished in my thirties, but for me all those years of struggle and emotional chaos was a time I needed to learn that there isn’t anything that Lestat could give me, that I haven’t been able to get for myself.  That was a lesson I NEEDED to learn the way it played out and I’m glad I got here the way I did.  But this is where I’m stressing, I have one month to get myself packed and out of the rental home I’ve been in for twelve years, yes twelve years!

I calculated how much money I’ve thrown away in rent, and it’s come to $111,600!!  Can you believe that?  The stress continues as I gave my intent to vacate to the property management company yesterday and they told me that I’m still responsible for the rest of what remains on my lease, which is six months.  So, now I’m stressing about that, I have to pay for the appraisal, I have to pay for movers to move my entire house to the new house which thank God is only seven blocks away from the rental house I live in now.  I have to pack and clean my house because the property management company wants to show the house as soon as possible to try to re-rent it. Which means I have to find a cat sitter for Charlie Bruiser O’Houlihan because they don’t know I have a cat.  Luckily my oldest son’s girlfriend said she’d be happy to take Charles with her to her house for about two weeks so we can get all this straighten out.

I’m stressing so much that it’s keeping up at night and adding to this, work is so unbelievably busy and I’m going to need to ask for vacation for when I move.  I’m stressing out because I’m worried about my snarky cat adjusting to the new house, I’m worried about fixing everything I’m responsible for at the rental house, I’m worried that my new neighbors will have all night keggers during the summer, I’m worried that I won’t get my security deposit back from the property management company, I’m worried that I need to buy a refrigerator for the new house because it doesn’t have one, I’m worried I’ll be stuck with six months of rent that I couldn’t possibly afford because I’ve broken my lease on this rental home, I’m worried I won’t have enough money to pay for movers.

So, yes the Huntress is stressing out a bit right now.  I just want August to get here so I can close on my house, move and get settled so that whatever comes my way I can take on without the stress of moving, getting re-settled and having that stupid six month of potential rent looming over me like a goddamned giant 8 ball waiting to hit me when I least expect it!

8 Ball meme

Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch you back!

The Huntress915



Impersonating Law Enforcement, Gaslighting and Getting on the Huntress’ Bad Side

I have a very dear, dear friend by the name of Veronica, no she is not residing in my head as other friends have asked when I mention her.  She is a real flesh and blood friend I made when I worked at the other university, she’s a sweet, wonderful person and I love her to death.  But because of her sweet nature she tends to be a bit naïve regarding that personality gauge that we all have hidden deep within in us.  You know the one, this is what tells us when someone is bullshitting us, or that gut feeling that we get on first impressions on meeting someone you don’t like.  She seems to have that part of her internal mechanism broken, which let’s face it, some men and women do.  I’ve also tried to tell her that it’s okay to get angry if someone pisses you off, and of course if they do it over and over again.

She was working in a building downtown, in the exact same building where the State Department had their local office.  She told me one day that one of the “agents” was talking to her because it seemed that they’d get to work around the same time and take the elevator together.  After being bombarded by him asking her out day after day, finally three months after she said yes.  I told her that there’s nothing with taking a chance every now and then, but if you felt uneasy for any reason she should probably skip on the date (something I wouldn’t be able to gauge because I hadn’t met the guy yet).   She said that he seemed nice and the only problem she said, was that he was younger than her.  I told her she needed to give this guy a chance, that he might be a good guy.  She also said he wasn’t the most attractive guy she’d met, but I also told her that looks were only skin deep and what mattered was what was inside, and if he treated her good, that’s all that mattered.

I spoke too soon, after six months of dating she said her house and car were being vandalized, she assumed it was by an ex-almost boyfriend, someone she said she’s been asked out by, by told him they should only be friends.   Her car’s tires were being slashed at work, at home and when she was at the movies.  Then one night while her and her new boyfriend were at her house after a night out celebrating her birthday, her garage door was egged, and her bathroom widow broken.  She said her boyfriend, whom I’ll call Humpy Hump (because the motherfucker looks exactly like Humpty Hump from Digital Underground) ran out of the house in his underwear, barefoot after whomever it was that had just broken her bathroom window!

Humpy Hump gif
State Department Humpy Hump

From that night on, her stalker was getting to her, emotionally, mentally and even physically because she was getting sick from all of this.  She began to get notes in her mailbox from her new boyfriends ex, notes telling her that she was an old hag, how he went back to her after he spent the night with her.  How Humpty loved her and not my friend and that my friend should stick to men her own age.

My poor friend was now a fixture at the neighborhood police station, filing report after report on, whom she thought was her ex wanna be boyfriend.  They took copies of the notes and a detective went by her house to talk to her with her “supportive” boyfriend at her side.  Then at the end of December, she said her “State Department” boyfriend bought her a new iPhone.  She said he was happy, and that she was surprised at the way he supported her throughout her stalker incidents and such.  One night she asked me over for dinner, and as we talked about her ordeal she was showing me the notes that had been left in her mailbox.  Some were written in crayon, some in pen and all saying the same thing, that she was too old for Humpty, how she should find a man her age and all that shit.  As I looked at one of the notes, something popped into my head and I said to her if she’d ever considered that it might be Humpty.

She looked at me, eyes wide open, blinking in nervousness (she does that sometimes) and said “Why would you think it would be Humpty?”  I said to her, I just I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t explain, maybe you need to let the police department know.  She laughed and dismissed what I had said and we continued to have dinner and wine and have a great time.  A few weeks later she called me in an emotional state, she told me that Humpty had broken into her old iPhone and saw messages from male friends and accused her of being a whore, a slut and of her of cheating on him.  I asked her how he got ahold of her old phone.  She said that when he bought her the new one, she left her hold one in his car, and that’s when she suspected he did it.  I was intrigued, and asked her how the fuck he was able to break into her old phone?  Then it hit me, this motherfucking ugly ass bitch works for the State Department!  She said he was telling her she needed to go and tell the wives of these friends of hers that she was a whore, and having affairs with them. Practically bullying her into admitting she was cheating on him when she wasn’t.

Insecure Men meme

She told me that she sent texts to these friends of hers to please text her to say that they were only friends, that they had not been having an affair. She did this with four of them, all the while I’m thinking I would have told Humpty to go fuck himself, I didn’t need to prove a fucking thing to him, if he couldn’t tell by the texts that they were only friends he had serious trust issues!  Of course that’s how I think, remember my friend’s bullshit meter is broken so she was unable to try and see Humpty for who he really was.  She said he made her life after that for the past couple of week’s sheer hell.

Yeah, her’s is broken….

I told her she didn’t have to take his shit that she just needed to ignore him, block is ass and let him drown in his own self-induced misery.  She told me she had to change the password to her alarm system, and the security cameras that she installed because of her after all of this going on with Humpty, he knew all of them. Which cost her a pretty penny, but she said she felt safer after they were installed.   I told her it was kind of suspicious that none of the security cameras at work caught this person slashing her tires, or her cameras didn’t catch all those notes being put into her mailbox.  She shrugged it off and we let go of the subject, even though it bothered the fuck out of me.

Weeks passed and the New Year came around and in February we got together again for dinner.  She began to tell me how she sent her brother, who is law enforcement in Florida the notes that were left in her mailbox along with cards that Humpty would give her.  She said her brother pointed out that several of the notes and Humpty’s cards had the same letters being drawn the same way, in particular the “i’s.”  She showed me the letters and cards and low and behold they were the fucking same!  She said she asked her brother to look at them after I had mentioned it to her first, he told her that she should press charges against him for vandalism.  I agreed, and she stayed quiet, and said to me she felt stupid because she trusted him.  All this time it was Humpty, slashing her tires, breaking her windows and egging her garage door.  He must have gotten a friend to break her window when he was there that night, the fucking bastard!

Just as we were eating dinner, she gets a call and it’s him!  I asked her for her phone, reluctantly she handed it over and I answered, he said hello and so did I and then heard him go into a tirade of accusations.  The outter me was furious at listening him call my dear friend all kinds of horrible names.  The inner, calm cool and calculating me decided to cut his balls off right then and there.

Kill Bill O Ren Ish I

I cleared my throat and this is what I said:

Me: Hey Humpty, you need to stay away from my friend, she’s going to change her number soon but until then, you need to keep your stupid needy dramatic ass away from her.  Also, you work for the State Department right?

Humpty: Uh, what’s that got to do with anything?

Me: It has everything to do with it!  You used government property, specifically the software they use to jailbreak cell phones to access my friends iPhone and her texts.  AND you did so without a warrant or asking her permission.  So, that means you could lose your job for misuse of position and government resources for personal gain you asshole dickwad!

Humpty: *cricket, cricket, cricket*

Me: I thought so, and where do you get off accusing her of all of this shit anyway you bastard?!

Humpty: Who the fuck are you? This isn’t any of your business!

Me: I’m your fucking worst nightmare dick, and I know where you work and who your supervisor is.  You think you’re the only one with resources? Fuck no! I have friends in law enforcement too you self-absorbed prick and guess what, they also told me you’re not even an agent of the State Department, YOU’RE A GODDAMNED FILE CLERK!!! So, let me repeat myself, you WILL leave my friend alone, and you’d better get ready because she just might press charges for vandalism and make you pay for the two sets of tires, her broken windows, the cleanup of her garage door AND reimburse her for her entire security system!

Humpty: *click*

Me: I fucking thought so asshole!

My friend was sitting in front of me in total silence, her eyes were welling up in tears as I yelled into her cell phone at this asshole prick who was gaslighting her! He was making her believe that she was being stalked by someone else and making her question her decisions, her self-worth and her fucking sanity.

Rampage gif

Veronica started laughing and said “Wow friend, I wish I was like you.  I wish I could have said all that to him, you’re my hero.  By the way, how do you know he’s not a State Department agent?”  I told her I had called the local office and asked for Special Agent Humpty Hump, and the receptionist told me that they only had a file clerk with that name, he wasn’t a special agent.  She laughed out loud and said she’s wished that she had thought of that.  But as she took this all in with a bit of humor, I thought to myself, why hadn’t she bothered to ask this prick to prove who he was, where he worked and what he did?  I reassured her and told her she wasn’t thinking straight because she still had feelings for this Humpy Hump looking asshole.  She asked me afterwards what I meant by gaslighting, and I explained to her that it’s a tactic used by narcissist to make you feel crazy about things your gut is warning you about.  They do it so they have complete control over you and use it to their advantage, make you second guess yourself and question your sanity when you damned well your fucking sane!

Don't mess with my BFF

She soon changed her number and is talking to an attorney about pressing charges against him although I’m not sure how far she’ll get since she waited so long.  As far as I know Humpty has never contact my friend again. I suppose to a certain extent, it bothers me that my friend isn’t as careful about who she decides to trust.  Or maybe it could be that it bothers me that she was so easily fooled by an asshole that wouldn’t have been able to pull that on me or a women who weren’t as insecure as my friend.  She felt that because this prick was a lot younger than her, she didn’t deserve to date him or whatever thoughts were going through her head to cloud her judgement or gut instincts to be able to see him for who he really was, an insecure, self-serving prick with severe trust issues.

And that he took them out on my very trusting and somewhat naive friend.  I found out much later how naive she really is, over dinner one night she told me that he has bought her a really expensive engagement ring (that she’d never seen) and she was actually thinking of paying him for it, because apparently he has posted on Facebook that he was out $4500 for an engagement ring he’d bought an unfaithful girlfriend.  I was drinking out of my glass of wine and nearly choked when I heard those words come out of her mouth!  Those stupid, trusting totally idiotic words!  I asked her if she’d seen the ring, if he’d showed it to her, if she’d actually tried it on?

She said no, and I yelled at her asking why in the fuck would she pay him $4500 for a goddamned ring she’s never seen?!  I said once again, that she’s allowing him to gaslight her through social media!  I could see the realization of the entire situation glaze over her eyes, her face went hard and she sat there across from me holding her wine glass and she said “You know what? Your right, what was I thinking?”  I told her that she’d better not ever communicate with Humpty again, but that she didn’t have to listen to me, but she did need to fix and refine her bullshit meter of hers to be able to sense these types of personalities.

Facepalm or Angry meme
Literally, or whether to choke the shit out of her….

I told Terri my therapist about this incident and asked her if she thought my personality was too strong for some of my friends.  Before she answered me she asked me if I had actually said and done everything I told Humpty on the phone.

This surprised me a bit and I asked her “Why would you think I’d make something like this up? Are you thinking I have psychological egoism?”  Terri looked at me and said “I’m somewhat impressed that you know what that means, your one of the most intelligent patients I’ve had.  And you don’t have any of those traits, I was only asking because it’s not everyone that will stalk a stalker, if you know what I mean?”  I told Terri I wasn’t stalking Humpty, I simply wanted to find out a little more about him that my friend may have ignored because of her emotional ties to him.

I mentioned that I can’t make shit like that up, those are the perils of being the Huntress, it falls into my lap like snow, situations, people, things like what my friend went through always make me question everyone and everything.  I told her that I think it’s the after effects of being with Lestat for twenty years of my life.  Terri smiled and began to write in her file and we went on with that week’s session.

Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!

This is the Huntress915



Let’s Talk About Weird Co-Workers…….LEAVING!!!

This isn’t so much a post about another weird coworker, but more about a weird coworker that’s leaving.  Yes boys and girls you heard that right, there is a coworker that’s leaving and I, for one, couldn’t be happier!  If you haven’t guessed by now, this coworker that’s leaving is none other than………….(wait for it)………..FEMALE SHEDLON!!!!  Yes, the Huntress’ prayers have been answered, and Female Sheldon is leaving, going to another university here in Texas!  Lord gawd help those in her new department!  As for me, I’m ecstatic, I mean if you couldn’t already tell?

On Monday I was working on yet another budget and as I’m caught up in reading this proposal, I look up and Female Sheldon is standing in front of my desk.  She caught me off guard, like she always has even though she’d been told to stay away from me, but has she listened? Nope!  Remember Monday was the day from wrong sandwich, humid hair, Clockwork Orange makeup, sun shade fighting hell.

She’d even been moved to the second floor in an office surrounded by chemical and biological labs, but she’s constantly down here.  Loitering like a scalper trying to sell you tickets to a Van Halen concert back in 1984.

I looked up at her and before I say anything, she says in her robotic, emotionless voice “I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving.”  I said “Okay, well bye” and I look back down to get back to the tedious reading I have ahead of me and she continues to stand there.  I look up at her again and ask “Um do you need something?”  She said “No I just wanted to let you know I was leaving” and I repeated “Yeah, I know….bye.” She’s staring ahead towards the wall not once looking at me and turns to leave my office.  I thought to myself, well that was weird why would she tell me that she’s leaving, like I give a fuck if she was leaving for the day.  Boy was I in for a shock.

A half an hour later I get a calendar invite for Female Sheldon’s Birthday and Farewell lunch, and before I accepted I did a double take.  I was trying to process the word “farewell” and it seemed even though I was still in the midst of doing this, I smiled, got up to close the door to my office and literally jumped up and down like a kid who had just been told I got tickets to a Van Halen concert in 1984!!  Then a knock on my office door, it was my supervisor, she asked to come in and of course I said yes.  She came in and said “Female Sheldon came to tell you she’d given her notice, right?”  I nodded yes, apparently with too big a smile on my face and my supervisor laughed at me and said “Okay, please try to contain your enthusiasm.”  I told her I’d try, but I wasn’t going to pretend that I wasn’t happy about it.

She nodded and laughed then left my office, I was like holy fucking shit, I’m finally rid of Female Sheldon, me, the Leonard Hofstadter of this office, finally rid of this annoyingly, self-proclaimed know it all we call Female Sheldon!

Leonard Slap gif
Waited so long for this……

Okay so you all know her name really isn’t Female Sheldon, but if anyone’s seen the Big Bang Theory y’all know how fucking annoying Sheldon Cooper is with his arrogant, self-absorbed, self-serving and supposedly Autistic type of personality.  Sheldon Cooper was the epitome of selfishness, because he’d proclaimed he was the smartest of the group of so called friends that choose to hang around with him.  Well that was pretty much how Female Sheldon acted, a mild superiority complex that seemed to make everyone else uneasy but would piss me off because, no she didn’t know everything like she thought she did.  She knew her job very well, I’ll give her that but she lacks social skills that make it awkward for everyone else in the office to deal with.  Her stupid loud annoying voice, her no filter expressions, her unbelievably annoying habit of picking at her skin during staff meetings, so much so she’d have huge red welts by the time we were done.

I'm not Crazy gif
Apparently not!

One time she even made herself bleed, from a horrible, I’m assuming pimple on her left shoulder, yes, she made herself bleed! Her intolerable vegetarianism (okay don’t get me wrong, not all vegetarians are like her) but that only added to my annoyance.  Our pot lucks, birthday lunches, holiday celebrations were all planned around what Female Sheldon could or couldn’t eat!  Our department budget manager, whom I’ve named JP, and myself were so fed up with having to plan everything around “her” lifestyle we go out twice a month, just him and I to have a huge steak lunch at the local Cattle Barons out of fucking spite.  So when I heard she was leaving, I was so happy, happy and overtaken with emotion that it practically erased the horrible Monday I had, with bad hair, horrible makeup, grilled chicken sandwich and torn hosiery!

WooHoo!!! Female Sheldon is leaving and I can’t fucking wait, well I mean I have to wait until the end of July but hell, I’ve worked with her for a year and a half so I think I can wait another two and a half weeks, right?  No more robotic, monotone voice, no more dead shark eyes staring straight past you, no more “Oh my gawd, they put Flamin’ Hot Funions in the Vending Machine!!” echoing from the hallway.

No more tofu “meatloaf” no more vegetable broth based soups, no more “mock” chili, omg mock chili that’s sacrilegious here in Texas, really!  There are NO BEANS in Texas chili, but her “mock” chili was all beans!

Chili meme

No more Instant Pot vegetable foods brought by her to our communal pot lucks or birthday celebrations.  JP and I are so excited we can’t contain ourselves, and just to celebrate we’ll be going to lunch at Cattle Barons to have our selves some STEAK in Female Sheldon’s honor!

I suppose that Female Sheldon is more like Amy Farrah Fowler, because they are both annoyingly, socially stupid self-serving characters, and Female Sheldon actually “looks” more like Amy from the Big Bang Theory, but her personality is more like Sheldon Cooper.  And I, for almost a year and a half played the Leonard Hofstadter to her Female Sheldon-esqe stupidity, only with more balls, less of an affinity for comic books, less toleration of verbal diarrhea from Female Sheldon and I can actually tolerate dairy products.

I’m so unbelievably happy I can hardly contain myself, no really I’m that fucking happy, I”m going to skip up and down the hallway!

Buggs skipping
Yeah, just like this!

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

Then Huntress915



Today is Monday and I had gotten up as I do every other Monday to get ready to go to work.   I take a shower, primp, quaff my hair and made sure I had everything I needed to tackle another day of work.  Fate however had different plans for me today….ahh fate that fickle bitch that has a sarcastically devilish sense of humor.  I got out of the shower and put on my makeup as I usually do, but today the humidity is at an unbelievable percentage for HellPaso.  It took an entire forty-five minutes for my hair just to dry!  As I turned around, looked into the mirror I realized I looked like Alex DeLarge from a Clockwork Orange.

runny mascara meme
Only I didn’t look this cool….

Mascara wet, runny raccoon eyes that would NOT come off no matter how hard I tried to get that off!  End result, I had to wash my face and start all over again.

Humid Hair II meme

Because of the makeup debacle I only styled my hair from the front and make a bun from the rest of it, I never use my hair up, never.  So as I finally left the house, dressed, my handbag in one hand, work bag in the other, keys and my cup of coffee, the coffee fell out of my hand as I tried to lock my front door.  Spilling coffee all over the outfit I had picked for today, so I went back in to change and rushed to make it to work on time.  As I got to work I chose my usual parking space which is right next to the building.

Then the sunshades for my car decided to fight me on opening up.  It’s those round ones that have in inner wire to hold them open and you twist to make them small.  As I fought with these sunshades form hell, I yelled out loud “You will you just…..FUCK! Work with me here!” That’s when the security guard walked up to me and asked if I needed help, smirking at me as I struggled with the stupid shades, my hair already “un-buned” and loose, sweating like a goddamned pig because of this 80% humidity.

300 meme
Not like this either……is should say Sunshade

I nicely told the guard I was fine, and he walked away talking into his radio, no doubt telling all the other guards and police officers that some crazy chick was fighting with her sunshades in her car.

I walked into the office, and tried to tip-toe so that my director wouldn’t hear me because she talks a lot.  About everything except work, her mom, her grandkids, her kids, her church, her car you name it she’ll find a subject to bore the fucking daylights out of you.  But today, I wasn’t in the mood, I grabbed the key to unlock the office and then heard her say “Huntress is that you?” and I sighed out loud saying “fuck” and she responded with “what did you say?”

Coworker that Talks too much meme

I walked over to talk to her and I said I was only cussing at my work bag because I had dropped it.  For the next forty-five minutes she talked about how she’s spent the entire weekend taking care of her grandkids because her daughter in law is in the hospital.

The huntress inside me was yelling at the top of my lungs “OH GOD JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY SO I CAN GO TO MY OFFICE AND PRETEND TO WORK!!!”  I swear I felt like passing out the way I did last Monday of food poisoning.  That’s when she looked at me and said “Are you okay, you don’t look so good” and I told myself, yeah bitch thanks for stating the obvious…..I got up and came to my office, covered in sweat trying hard not to throw up in my trash can.deciding-whether-to-drive-to-work-or-across-the-country-32176109

I sat down, turned on my computer, sweating profusely wanting to take a pillow and suffocate my director so no one else had to endure yet another story about her fucking private life.  Then my other coworker came in, said good morning and began to clear her throat.  It’s been going on for over three hours, throat clearing like the bitch is digging for fucking clams!

Vader Throat Hug meme

Then I get a faculty member that doesn’t know the difference between percentage effort and hourly pay.  She comes down to my office (unannounced) and asks me right as she walks in “Are you Filipino?”  I turn around as if she could possibly be talking to someone else and I look at her and ask “Are you talking to me?”  She said “Yes….Filipino?” And I said “No I’m not Filipino, why do you ask?”

She said “You look like your Filipino, so sorry, so sorry.”  It must be that half of my hair is hanging off the side of my head, wet with sweat, mascara running yet again, and the battle scars from the sunshade from hell, and my patience running thin.  I must look like some Filipino sweatshop girl working fourteen hours at fifty cents an hour.  Yes it’s a stereotype, but as Jo Koy (ironically a Filipino standup comic, who’s brilliant) says stereotypes are funny because their true.  He also says that Filipinos and Mexican’s have a lot in common, especially looks and last names (scratches head trying to figure out wtf?) maybe that’s why she kept asking me, who knows.

I sat in my office trying to explain to this faculty member how percentage effort works, and after an hour she left my office and she still didn’t understand what I was telling her.  I told her I’d do her budget for her asking her to just send me the numbers so I can do this without every other word out of her mouth “You sure you’re not Filipino?”  I just wanted her to shut up and leave so I could go to my car and yell at the top of my lungs and punch the steering wheel until I felt better.  My lunch hour came around and I decided to leave since I have been craving a Whopper from Burger King.  I drove the block and a half to get to the restaurant placed my order, paid and left.

Now I’m the type of person who always checks their order before I pull away from the drive-thru, but today I thought okay this bitch fate has already taken enough punches at me today, I’m good.  NOPE, I get to work and unpack my lunch and realize it’s a goddamned grilled chicken sandwich! Someone out there is eating my fucking Whopper with jalapenos and bacon and I’m stuck with a godforsaken grilled chicken sandwich!!!

Burger king wrong meal meme

I literally threw my hands on my desk and grabbed my book, phone and sunglasses to go outside to read.  As I walk past the rose bush that sits right outside the entrance to the building, my hose gets stuck on it, tearing it and leaving a huge run from my knee to my ankle.  Then some happy-go-lucky dude is sitting out on the lawn on his phone but has his phone on speaker playing “You’ve Got a Friend” from James Taylor.

I hate James Taylor! No really I hate James Taylor and all of his songs, I’m not one for sappy friendship songs and shit.  Give me a loud, eardrum busting version of Celebrity Skin by Hole or any song by Halestorm any day and I’m happy as fuck.

But today, today I need for this day to quickly be over so I can go home and work out on my rowing machine because I have a lot of frustration going on, and then after maybe a bloody Mary.  I’m not talking about the drink, I’m talking about my neighbor Mary and her asshole husband Gary, because they’ve decided to put a jumping balloon in their front yard.  Yes, in their front yard for their grandkids who are on summer vacation, screaming and jumping until all hours of the night.  I feel like walking straight up to her and yell “This isn’t the fucking ghetto, get your Cinderella jumping balloon out of your front yard and put in in your back yard so you and only you can enjoy the sheer happiness that are your snotty, rude grandkids!” and then punch her straight in the face!

I regret nothing gif
That’s right…only a dancing chicken has no regrets whatsoever…..

Until next time, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


Imagination Plantation: A Day In the Life of Chaos

I was nominated for this writing challenge by Laura at Hot Shot Headlines! Thanks so much Laura for nominating me.

Here’s the link to Laura’s post, where I was nominated:

The challenge, Imagination Plantation, was originally created by Nova, the amazing author of Nova’s Namaste 365 Online.

It took me a while to get to this but I hadn’t forgotten, so here it is…….

4 Simple Rules:

Write a short paragraph about what’s happening in this image.

Create a pingback to this image.

Tag three bloggers.

Reuse this same image. Let’s see how many stories can come from the same one.

As he stepped back from the window, he couldn’t quite see everything that was going on, this was frustrating for him.  Yet all of the chaos was only stirring his creativity to finally finish his project.

“What are you doing standing there? We’re going to be late, hurry up!”  Shouted his wife from the doorway, combing out the curls from her long brown hair.

“I’m going, I’m going I just have to get this part just right or it will ruin the entire thing” he responded while his wife rolled her eyes and walked back into the bathroom.

All the while he was trying not to upset her as he knew this was an important day for her.  She was being recognized for her charitable work and was being given an award.

“Will you hurry please, I don’t want you and that, that thing you’re working on to make us late, you can continue to work on it when we get back, ugh!” her muffled voice yelled at him.

He sighed and put down his instruments and turned to the mirror to finish tying his tie.  He looked at his project from the reflection in the mirror as he straighten out his shirt collar, and smoothed out his tie then he saw it, the one thing it was missing.  He rushed towards the window and then looked back at his canvas and picked up his brush and began to furiously spread the colors of yellow ochre and burnt umber.

“Oh god! Today of all days, can you just let that thing be!” his wife yelled from the studio door, dressed in a black floor length gown, her hair beautifully quaffed on her head and holding her favorite black beaded purse.

“I’m done, I’m done.  Look come and see, now it’s perfect!” he said, eyes gleaming, voice filled with enthusiasm.  She walked over and looked at the canvas he’d been working on for almost a year.  She stared at it then she looked back at him, then back at the canvas and said.

“James, that looks nothing like what you see outside this window, it’s overcrowded and, and well chaotic!”

He looked back at her and said “exactly!”

She rolled her eyes again, grabbed him by his hand and looked down at hers only to realized she had paint on it from his brush.  He smiled at her and she reluctantly smiled back.  They walked out of the room leaving the canvas behind right next to the studio window.  As they walked down the stairs she asked him, “What are you going to call it?”

“I think I’ll call it, A Day in the Life of Chaos.  What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy now let’s go!”



Being Aunt Debbie


Until next time, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


I Am Not A Writer

I’m just someone that writes, there is a difference I think.  Writing has always come easy to me, I’ve never struggled to find words or ideas.  In elementary, high school and college, I’ve never struggled to write whatsoever, math on the other hand, ugh.  I also happen to have hypegraphia, which according to Psychology Today is “the all-consuming desire to write.” Which also includes the need to read, re-read, edit and edit again everything one has written. It’s also linked to mental illnesses like schizophrenia and bi-polar disorders, but more on the side of eplilepsy (thanks to all the fates out there, ya bitches).

Writing GIF
This is exactly how hypergraphia feels

But my therapist, who is a psychiatrist tested me when she diagnosed my hypegraphia, which I didn’t know I had, I just thought I like to write, a lot.  She said my tendency is purely to write on a creative basis, an outlet of emotional turmoil.  I don’t normally tell people or reveal this about myself, it’s just not something one talks about during your team building exercises at work.  I work with physician’s, a lot of them psychiatrists, so I keep this to myself for the most part.  Hypegraphia tends to be triggered by emotional or tragic events as well, I have so many emotionally charged events that have happened in my life, it would be hard to pinpoint when and where this all started.

Luckily my job provides a temporary relief from this, I have to write a lot in order to communicate with faculty, sponsors and of course coworkers.  I also have to write constantly for the faculty to correct their horrendous writing, which most of the times needs to be written from scratch and re-write a lot of their proposals from the information they give me.

500 words meme
I can write more than just 500 words in one sitting.

I’m not a medical doctor by any means, and as for physician’s a lot of them aren’t great writers either as far as I can tell.  A lot of them don’t know how to write and many times  use the wrong words which sound alike, in the wrong context.  For example pear and pair, I mean come on, wtf?  Or stair and stare, I know the difference how in the hell don’t these people, they went to medical school for god sake!

Grant deadline meme

Either way, writing for work does help alleviate this incessant need to write, just one of the reasons I began a blog at the urging of Terri my therapist.  I have so many journals, composition and spiral notebooks of different ideas about a book I want to eventually write.  But I don’t consider myself a writer, and here is why.  A writer, a real writer would know what to write and continuously develop that idea until its exactly where they want it.

I have different ideas and have begun so many “novels” then another idea comes into my head and I start another set of notes and thus I’ve been leaving behind story after story because of my writer’s ADD.  No, I don’t actually have ADD but this is the only explanation I have to justify why I can’t finish any of the stories I’ve begun.

Writers Block Meme
This is how I feel about writing a book, all the time.

Except for one, the main reason I began my blog, the story of Lestat the Emotional Vampire.  That story I wrote from beginning to end.  I spent twenty years of my life with him and everything I wrote that happened in my blog posts, really did happen.  Although I left out a lot of content because I didn’t think my followers would want to know that much about the fact that I was in a relationship with a married man for almost half my life.   That is why I think it was so easy to write about my experiences with him, because it was “my” story.  And now I’ve been encouraged by several friends, both blogger and longtime friends, to follow through and expand, develop and finish this one particular story.  But I’m not sure how to do this, ideas come and go, but I suppose I need to finally set my mind and develop the damned thing to finally have some closure and leave this story on the pages instead of in the back of my mind.

Writer procrastination meme

I found very good advice and encouragement from two articles I read last week, both spectacular in their own ways.  One by WendyMegget and her great and insightful post The Love of Writing where she explains how writers write from another place other than inside themselves, give her blog a visit, she’s brilliant! The other was a re-blog from Laura Beth at Hot Shot Headlines about another blogger, Didi Oviatt’s grandmother Doris, who just published her very first novel at the very young age of 80-something!  If this isn’t inspiring I don’t know what is.  This gives me the incentive to develop a couple of the stories I’ve begun and then, doubt sets in.

Steven King Meme
Should I worry about others feeling this way about me? Or should I take the Huntress attitude and say “Fuck it?”

Will I be a good writer? Will people actually want to read what I write? These are only a few of the questions that run through my head while I’m at work and writing blog posts instead of reading what is probably the second worst grant proposal I’ve had the misfortune to work on.  All the while my VP has brought in chocolate croissants (from a local French bakery) to watch the U.S play France in the Women’s World Cup.   In my mind I’m shouting “No thanks boss I’m trying very, very hard to stay on my keto diet, but thank you for the temptation while I white knuckle it through today with all the carb filled celebratory food, ya insensitive bastards!”

But here at work when I write or should I say re-write the language has to remain neutral, scientific and positive for sponsors to consider funding the project.  The explanations are sugar coated with scientific jargon and always needs to make the faculty member look and sound like they know what they’re doing.  When I know damned well they can’t write for shit.

Doctor Not Writer meme

Following rules to re-write someone else’s bad writing are pretty much set when you do what I do for a living.  Writing for myself or developing an idea into a book, I wonder can one use creative liberties to describe the ideas in their head?  Should I follow the inspiration those posts I read help me go home this weekend and find the composition books with the story of Lestat?  Go through each one and find what I left out on my blog posts and see if I can develop this story further?

Because God knows I’ve been at the other end of someone telling and re-telling the same story over and over and rolling my eyes wishing they’d shut the fuck up, all the while trying so hard not to stab them in the neck with a pencil!

Holy Fack meme

Will people think the same thing about my exodus with Lestat?  Will I bore or entertain?  Will it be worth developing further?  I’m not a writer, I’m a person who’s written about life experiences both serious and comical.  Should I try really hard to control my “writers” ADD to try and finish the story that began twenty-some odd years ago?

Writer philosophical meme

On a side note, I asked my cat Charlie “Bruiser” O’Houlihan (his cat fight club name) who is wise and philosophical, about being a writer and this is the answer he gave me……..

Charlie Sarcastic Face
“Yeah right, you can’t get home to feed me on time and you want to be a writer? Ppffffttt, good luck.”

Yeah, he can be an ass sometimes, but I still love his furry butt.

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

The Huntress915


Blogger Recognition Award

I want to thank my good friend Aunt Debbie for nominating me for this award.

The Mask GIF

Visit her blog, she’s a potty mouth like me, she’s hilariously funny and serious all at the same time!


If you want to share this award please follow the rules below.

Thank the nominator, and publish a post on your blog about receiving the Blogger Recognition Award.  Make sure to provide a link to the nominator’s blog in your post.

  • Give a brief story of how your blog started.
  • Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.
  • Nominate 10-15 other bloggers for this award, and inform them of their nomination.

My blog started in June of last year, 2018 at the urging of my wonderful therapist who said it would be a creative outlet for my emotional upheaval and writing.  I never really thought I’d go a whole year with an actual blog.  I didn’t think that anyone would be remotely interested in reading what I had to write.  And yet here I am one year later, still blogging, making friends and finding encouragement from other blogs along the way.

My advice to new bloggers: Read other blogs, get the feel for what’s out there, follow those that interest you and always, always read posts from those you do follow and post some encouraging and creative comments.  Also, write about yourself whether or not you’re sure others will like what you wrote, your blog will develop as you begin to write more and more.

I’m going to nominate two bloggers for this award, I don’t know too many other bloggers who already haven’t been nominated or received this award, so that makes this a bit harder for me.

My nominations are:

The Nowhere Tribune -A fellow Texan who’s adventures of armadillo tattoos, alcohol, rattlesnakes and Teacakes will make you laugh, wonder and above all think whether or not he’s writing from home or an asylum!

BecauseFoodIsWhatIDo – Krysta, head cook, chief bottlewasher, food lover and writer. She is also a fellow Texan who posts about food from around the region where she and her family resides, Fort Davis Texas.  She’s a home cook who experiments with recipes and ingredients and she makes them all look so easy and delish! Visit her blog and I promise, you’ll be pleasantly surprised!




The Disdain of High School Math and the Teacher that Helped Me Get Through It

As we’ve gotten older we tend to forget a lot about our childhood or adolescence, especially if ones high school experiences were far from pleasant.  I, for one had a hard time with math and science all around.  I blame this on one particular math teacher in the third grade because he was just a prick and couldn’t take the time to tutor or not make fun of those of us who really needed his attention.  But I’m convinced that this teacher didn’t care about his students, he was more concerned about his crappy 1976 Chevy Camaro than wanting to help the students that he knew were struggling in his class, there were only two of us that needed his help.  Come to think of it, the asshole looked a lot like Jeff Lynne from ELO (Electric Light Orchestra) Like this…

Jeff Lynne ELO
This is exactly what my 3rd grade math teacher looked like
Crappy Camaro
And this is fake Jeff Lynne Math teacher’s crappy Camaro

Only he wasn’t nearly as charismatic or successful.  He actually showed up to Parent/Teacher night plastered off his ass and couldn’t even talk to our parents.  One of my friend’s moms said he smelled of pure alcohol.  He’s the idiot teacher who asked me during career day what I’d wanted to do when I grew up.  I said I wanted to be an interior decorator and the asshole responded with, “Not in El Paso you’re not.”  Class act that Mr. Asshole Camaro Guy, class act!

It seemed that everyone else was grasping what he was teaching but not I or the other unfortunate soul who would come to me for help, what does that say? I did however do well in the rest of my classes, especially English, writing, history all the subjects I loved to learn about.  In elementary school I got many awards for writing, English, essays and such, that seemed to come naturally to me.

I and several other students struggling with math slipped through the hands of every math teacher from the third grade all the way up to my freshman year in high school, failing math along the way because by this time I had it in my head I hated math.  I wanted nothing to do with it and if I ignored it, it would go away.  That is until I met my ninth grade biology teacher, Mr. Lopez.  I loved biology, and loved going to his class but then one day I got in trouble for getting stuck on the roof of our high school gym (hey, there was a ladder, I was curious, someone came along while me and some friends were on the roof, they took the ladder and we missed our afternoon classes) anyway I wound up in detention.

San Elizario High School 1984
This use to be my high school, before it was turned into a middle school and had a red fence and parking lot built in front of it.  It use to be all gravel, no sidewalk.

Mr. Lopez must have done something wrong as well for him to wind up being the detention teacher that particular day, but that’s just an assumption.  He made us take out any homework and said we had to do it during the hour we had to remain in school jail.  I think I moaned out loud and didn’t want to do my math homework and he looked at me, then with his finger motioned for me to go up to the front of the class.  As I did he said “Bring your homework Ms. Huntress” and I rolled my eyes and went back for my tattered backpack.  He pulled up a chair next to his desk and whispered as I sat down and loudly put my things on the floor “What’s wrong with you? If you do your homework you wont have to do it home.”  I knew he was right, but since it was math, I just wanted to forget about it.

He then said in a very fatherly voice “Don’t roll your eyes at me missy, tell me why you don’t want to do your homework?”  So I told him, he looked at me and said what all other math teachers before him had said “It’s only math, it’s not that hard.”  My frustration was at its breaking point and I said “No, you’re wrong, it is hard and no one wants to show me so it won’t be hard anymore, I hate math it sucks!”  He looked stunned, and then told me to follow him out into the hallway and as I did he said loudly to the other delinquents in detention “I’m going to be just outside so no funny business, I can hear everything!”  He closed the door to the classroom and said to me “Why are you having a hard time with math? If you don’t ask for help you won’t get it” and I responded with “I have asked for help, then I go for tutoring and the teachers make fun of me and tell me even their two year old kids are able to understand this.”  Which was true one other math teacher said her two year old could do what I couldn’t.  I had never wanted to punch a teacher in the face as bad as I did that day.

I was on the verge of tears and he must have sensed this and he said “Okay, let’s go back in and we’ll see what I can do to help you.”  Not only was Mr. Lopez a great teacher, he was compassionate and understanding.  But also a hard-ass if you got on his bad side, I saw that first hand when he was a chaperone on a class field trip.  He didn’t stand for mischief and everyone knew it.  As we sat back down I took out my math homework and he asked me “So how do you manage to do your homework at home?”  I looked at him straight in the eye and said “I cheat” and his eyes got wide and then a smile came over his face as he looked down at my math book.  “Well, at least your honest” and then he looked at my homework ditto and took out his pencil.

This is pretty much how I felt from the third grade all the way up to my freshman year

He quickly found out I didn’t know anything about algebra and even less about calculus.  The hour of detention came to an end and as I gathered my things he said out loud “Oh wait a minute Ms. Huntress, I have to talk to you” everyone else snickered and hissed and one of my friends said “Oooohhh you’re in trouble now!”  I gave him the middle finger as he walked passed me and Mr. Lopez closed the door to his classroom.  He said to me “You need to go back and re-learn your math so you can get a hold of algebra and calculus” I almost wanted to cry because that meant I needed to learn my multiplication tables because that’s where it all started. I was embarrassed to admit that I was that far gone, I didn’t know my multiplication table at the age of fifteen, I mean I knew the fives, twos, tens and elevens, those are the easiest to learn, who doesn’t right?  I figured I had nothing to lose so I cried and told him about why I hated math and how I was ignored by all those asshole math teachers when I asked for help.  He hugged me (which now a days can be totally misinterpreted by idiots) and said he’d help me.

He said he’d stay another half hour if I could too in order to begin my tutoring, reluctantly I said yes.  I say reluctantly because I would have rather been at home watching reruns of Gillian’s Island, Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family waiting for dinner.  So he began from the very beginning, and I stayed to be tutored for almost four months, three days a week.  Which was torture for a fifteen year old who had softball and track practice.  Don’t ask me how I stayed on those teams failing math all those years, its nothing short of a miracle.  In fact that’s mainly why I tried out for basketball, because I figured I could get away with it there too.  I quit soon after I made the team, because our basketball coach was my eighth grade math teacher and he was an asshole.  I loathed him because in basketball practice he’d yell at all of us but when it came to me he’d say things like “Come on now, get your act together this is basketball not math it should be easy for you!” then he’d laugh.

I let Mr. Lopez know about this and he gave a loud sigh and said “I’m not going to comment on Coach Dickwad and his behavior”, no he didn’t use the name Dickwad, I added it to protect the identity of Coach Dickwad even though he’s dead (yep dead as a fucking door-nail, sorry, not sorry) and I refuse to mention anyone by name who didn’t positively influence me.  So from there I knew Mr. Lopez was going to help me, as we said back in the day, “for reals.”  For four long, agonizing months I stayed and he taught me math from where I had left off in the third grade all the way up to my freshman math course.  It wasn’t easy, in fact it was downright hard to learn math from seven years back all because no one had bothered to slow down and make sure all of their students understood every aspect of what they were teaching.

Mr. Lopez helped me through one of the toughest academic times I’ve ever encountered during adolescence.  I learned what I could to get me through my math classes with his help and I appreciated that he stayed to tutor me after school because I knew he had a family and lived about twenty-three miles from our little town in the “big” city.  It also didn’t hurt that he was extremely good looking, an older distinguished gentleman with timeless old Hollywood film start features.  He looked like a young James Garner when he was on the t.v. series Maverick.  So he was a dream to look at, well at least for me he was.  As I made my way from freshman to sophomore I was forever thankful to Mr. Lopez my biology teacher who took time out to teach me the math basics so I’d be able to catch up academically.

During the middle of my sophomore year I got pregnant and left school to move nine miles away to where my future ex-husband lived and started school there.  I don’t know how long Mr. Lopez remained at San Elizario High School, or when he retired or if he’s still around.  All I know is, Mr. Gilbert Lopez helped a student in need when she needed it the most.  And although I still hate math to this day, it helped that I got though the horror of high school math because of him.

Until next time y’all, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


Sunshine Blogger Award Nomination

It seems someone thought I was “sunshiney” enough to nominate me for the Sunshine Blogger Award, a fellow Texan and all around funny and sunny writer at Nowhere Tribune.


Thank the Blogger that nominated you.

Answer the questions.

Nominate new blogs to receive the award and write them or in this case ask them to list some random facts about themselves.

List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award in your post/or blog.

Notify the nominees about it by commenting on their blog post.

Here I go, thank you to the Nowhere Tribune for this nomination, even though I’m far from Sun-shiney.  But he did say, and I quote I’m cool, offensive and I’m from Texas!

So instead of the list of obligatory questions he thought he’d suggest that I just give five or ten random, little known facts about myself.  So here I go….

  1. I once tried out for a female roller derby team (I didn’t make it, apparently I was too violent for the sport).
  2. I use to be a born again Christian, who use to be a lapsed Catholic.
  3. I had a tattoo on my left ankle, and I had it removed which was way more expensive than the tattoo cost.
  4. I own 52 pairs of shoes (I use to have 74 but I got rid of some)
  5. I use to own a Pearl White 1969 Camaro with a 427 Chevy big block engine and a Muncie 4 speed transmission and raced it at the local drag strip.

So, there you go, five random facts about myself.  Here are my nominees

Evil Squirrel’s Nest

Freethinkers Anonymous

The Captains Speech

Hopelessy Heather

Being Aunt Debbie

So, I’m going to ask what Nowhere Tribune did and ask that instead of the questions, you give the five to ten random facts about yourself.


The Eradication of Our History will Only Lead to Disaster

I was sitting back a couple of weeks ago watching some news coverage about the 75th anniversary of D-Day, and how many of the WWII survivors are now becoming extinct, I use the word extinct because they are a rare breed that history has given to us and also a font of information and first-hand accounts of what they went through.  I for one, wish I could have talked to my grandfather about his experience during his enrollment in the Army as he made his way through Europe during WWII.  He was a proud American who during the Vietnam war era told several of my aunts “If the Army would let me, I’d still go and fight, but they say I’m too old.”

His intentions might have been in the right place but I’m pretty sure he was still in the WWII mindset when he said that he’d go and fight in Vietnam if the Army would have let him. If I were old enough to have let him know I would have explained to him that those were two very different types of wars and that he would have been not only shocked and dismayed at how the fighting had changed from the very mechanical type of fighting he faced in WWII to the very chemically weaponized war he would have fought in Vietnam.  But anyway I’m getting off course here, as I watched the many interviews of those veterans from the D-Day experience I was saddened to know that we have less and less of those vets to give us those historical accounts.  Then my sadness turned to rage when a reporter was stopping people on the street, mainly millennial’s and asking them if they knew what D-Day was.  Out of the eleven people asked, nine of them, all millennial’s didn’t know what D-Day was!!!

Obiwan quote
Ain’t that the truth Obi-wan, ain’t that the truth!

Okay before I start getting comments or messages about how not all millennial’s are uneducated or ignorant, I just want to say that it’s true, not all people of the millennial generation are this way.  But according to the Center of the American Experiment, two-thirds of millennial’s can’t identify what Auschwitz is and twenty four percent have never heard of the Holocaust, you can read about it here.  They’ve NEVER hear of the Holocaust!!!  What is this saying about a generation that is hell bent on “improving” our future when they can’t even identify with our past?!

Ignorant Millineals
This is literally what I think they’d look like even if they weren’t holding a red Solo cup.

D-Day was a combat attack and is best known for the Normandy landings by the allied forces fighting against the Germans WWII, which happened on June 6, 1944.  I was more angry than shocked, I couldn’t believe this shit, the pure unadulterated shit that was coming out of these young idiots’ mouths!! My kids, all three of my boys are millennial’s and they know about D-Day, and you know why? Because I told them about it and they were taught about American history in high school.  Even my youngest, who graduated high school in 2013 knows about D-Day, what WWII was about and how the U.S was forcefully pulled into this war.  This is unacceptable, in my eyes this is a part of U.S and world history that needs to be taught, in every section and type of education.  All the way from elementary, high school and college levels.

Mike Rowe quote

This isn’t China, we are not banning or redacting our own history to keep it from American citizens.  We don’t need to erase crucial historical events that might keep us from reliving these types of catastrophes, we are not a dictatorship that needs to go to the extreme like China has, in order to keep events like the 1989 Tienanmen Square Massacre from their history.

New Quote Tienanmen Square

They don’t want any citizen of theirs to realize that they can radicalize and fight for freedoms they don’t know they have, if they just delete historical happenings and deny that they ever occurred, out of sight out of mind.  So much so they have internet, media and informational cleansing police that keep an eye out for anyone that types in the title “Tienanmen Square” or “1989 Tienanmen Square massacre” or what is probably the biggest symbol of pro-democracy of that era, Tank Man.

Tank Man

The one man in a white shirt who stood in front of the military tank brigade, holding two shopping bags in defiance, that was on its way to go and literally murder hundreds of Chinese students who were protesting for a democratic China.  We, as the United States of America are NOT China, Russia or any other communist or dictatorship country that we need to ignore the very important subject of world history and the events that shaped us as a nation or that shaped our world to what it has evolved into.

Gi Joe Quote

Everyone needs to know what D-Day was about, why WWII happened and the consequences that developed because of it.   I was so angry at the ignorant youth on my television screen and their lack of knowledge of what they were being asked that I literally threw my sweet potato fries at the screen.  Which, in retrospect was a stupid thing to do and that my son got mad because it’s his television, but it’s my house so I trump his t.v. ownership.  Anyway, I couldn’t believe it, we are allowing American and world historical events be eradicated by ignorance of new and “improved” generations (sarcasm I’m not really thinking it’s an improvement) of Americans all because they aren’t being taught the important history they need to learn, THEY NEED TO LEARN!!


For instance, the Tienanmen Square incident coincides with the fall of the Berlin wall, all which happened in November of the very same year.  In 1989 the Hungarian government began to dismantle the electrified fence they had along its borders with Austria. All of this going on and younger generations probably don’t know about this either.  I learned more about everything I’m talking about in my sophomore year in college.  I am grateful to my world history professor and his ability to make events like this interesting, as much as they were horrific he said “History is cyclical, and the saying ‘those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it’ is true, so we need to make sure events like this are taught to every generation” and I totally believe that.

We cannot allow this sacrifice to be forgotten!

You can’t erase history, you just can’t, somewhere, somehow, there are people who know what happened in our country and around the world.  This is why I’m opposed to taking down statues of Confederate so-called “hero’s.”  Not because they were wrong, not because what they did was unspeakable, or what consequences their direct actions did to people and/or places, what happened in our country’s history during the Civil War was less than civil.   It was dehumanizing and that’s putting it mildly.  Things like that need to stay up in order to remind us, as a nation what NOT to do again, it needs to enrage, it needs to emotionalize but most of all it needs to remind us of what happened!  It’s to keep our history alive whether it’s good or bad, we can’t just teach the history that is aesthetically or mentally pleasing because we don’t want to offend.  We need to keep our history intact so that we don’t repeat it and make the same mistakes all over again.  If younger generations don’t learn about this, they will be the ones to make those mistakes and God knows what will happen then.


So this is one of the main things that pissed off the Huntress this past couple of weeks, that and the fact that I had to clean up the television screen from a bit of grease from somewhat healthy sweet potato waffle fries.  I must say it’s still bothering me because my grandfather fought in WWII and he would have been appalled by the lack of education and more so at the abundance of ignorance in the last couple of generations that know nothing about what he and his fellow soldiers did to ensure their safety and freedom!

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

The Huntress915


My Hometown Was Famous For a While Back in 1984

In the summer of 1984 there were a lot of strangers wandering around my little hometown of San Elizario Texas, and when I say strangers I mean just that.  My hometown was so small, back then, everyone knew everyone else.  So when we saw someone we didn’t recognize it was a big deal, let alone a lot of people we didn’t recognize.  We were that type of quintessential small American hometown where everybody’s parents knew everyone else’s kids.  So things like “I know your dad, do you want me to tell him your breaking windows or do you want to stop?” were heard all around town by other kids parents (yes, yes I did break a couple of windows).  So when trucks full of people and equipment came to town it was to say, very noticeable.  Semi-tractor trailers chock full of equipment no one knew what it was going to be used for, were parked on the sides of our small two lane roads taking up perfectly good bike riding space.

San Eli Historic District

Then it all began to change, my hometown that is, old storefronts that hadn’t been opened in decades were being renovated, or should I say restored to actually look old.

Old Lalos Gro
This is one of the old storefronts that was restored for the film, and still looks like this today
Old San Eli Jail
This is the old San Elizario Jail, Billy the Kid was held here for an entire 48 hours

The roads around the beautiful old church were being covered with dirt, old telephone booths were being put up in almost every corner within a two mile radius of the town square.

San Elizario Church Square
This is the town square in front of the church.

Then one day another three 18 wheeler’s showed up, parked outside our house and a group of men wanted to talk to my uncle to see if they could pay him to park the three trucks full of antique cars.  He of course said yes, I mean hello? Money to have three large trucks parked on three acres of land that weren’t being used, that was easy money. I woke up one hot summer morning in 1984 and as I ate my cereal, I watched from my dining room window while groups of men unloaded old vintage cars from theses semi-trucks in our back yard.  In between my softball practice and hanging out with my friends we all watched our regular little town transform from what we knew to something out of the 1960’s, storefronts that lay dormant come back to life.  Old signs being put up all over town to advertise Oxydol, Borax and a cola called Moxie.

They had five of these cars

Old houses getting fresh “old” paint and “vintage” cars parked randomly around the church square.

Fandango Portales
Store fronts that were restored to look “old”.  Now they have brick paving out front and a marker.  Our town was where In 1598, Don Juan de Oñate, a Spanish nobleman and conquistador born in Zacatecas, Mexico, led a group of 539 colonists and 7,000 head of livestock (including horses, oxen, and cattle) from southern Chihuahua to settle the province of New Mexico. The caravan traveled a northeasterly route for weeks across the desert until it reached the banks of the Rio Grande in the San Elizario area. A mass was held, a blessing of the standard and a celebration.

Then nothing, for weeks everything came to a standstill, the townsfolk were told to keep everything as is, that nothing should be touched and that “they” would be back.  So that’s what everyone did.  Then one day my dad came home and said that he had been approached by one of the “gueros” on the crew that brought the old cars to our back yard, to see if he wanted to earn some extra money on the weekends and be a security guard.  My dad said yes, and then life began once again as tons of people came in huge RV’s and more semi-tractor trailers.  They inundated our little town with more people than we were used to seeing on Sundays after church.  My mom’s office was in an old building dating back to the l800’s which was in the town square next to our beautiful church.  They transformed her office front into a café, bakery and barber shop right out of the 1960’s.

Portales Now Image
This is my moms old office building, her office was where the corner windows are.  Now its historical site in my hometown

But that wasn’t even close to being the most impressive part, well at least for me it wasn’t.  It was when they announced that they’d be filming a movie with a group of actors no one had heard of yet.

The Groovers
The Groovers

And again that wasn’t enough to impress me, what impressed me was that this entire film crew was being taken care of by five, FIVE large catering trucks!  They made them breakfast, lunch and dinner, and they served things like t-bone steaks, shrimp cocktail, filet mignon, the biggest baked potatoes anyone’s ever seen.  They had desserts like German chocolate cake, which at this point in my life I didn’t know existed!  They had fruit trifle with homemade whipped cream, the very first time I had bratwurst was on this movie set, grilled served on the softest buns with real hot mustard and some kind of fries with mayonnaise (which I though was weird but ate anyway).

I was in culinary heaven! But how did the Huntress get to eat off of a movie set catering truck you ask? Well, simply put my dad had taken the gig as one of ten security guards and they got to eat from the movie catering, so that meant I did too.

So as they started to film, the hustle and bustle of the day to day work the film cast and crew would start at dawn and end….well it never ended, this was a 24/7 kind of thing.  Then one day I found myself having lunch with my dad and sat at one of the picnic tables they had all around the town square.  My dad finished and left and I found myself blissfully eating the biggest New York strip steak I had seen, with herb butter on top, a baked potato the size of my head and a fresh spinach salad with garlic and tomato in a lemon vinaigrette.  Which normally I wouldn’t have eaten at that age because it was fresh and also spinach but once I gave it a try I was hooked.  As I ate my food I was blissfully unaware of my surroundings.  Then I heard a voice ask me “Excuse me little girl, is anyone sitting here?” I mean I was far from little, I was fourteen.  I looked up and saw one of the actors still in his film attire, a handsome young man in a tattered tuxedo, with dirt and grime all over the white ruffled shirt, his messy hair being tossed by the light summer breeze as he held his lunch.

Kevin Costner Tux
A still unknown Kevin Costner

I nodded no, and he just sat down right next to me and began to eat, then asked “Do you live around here?” and I said “yes, just down the street.”  He took a huge bite from his corned beef sandwich on rye which also was the size of my head.  He looked around as he ate then said “It’s nice around here, very quiet” and I looked up taking a drink of my iced tea with lemon I said “It was, until you guys showed up.”  He laughed out loud, patted me on the back and said “I suppose that’s true” and went back to eating his lunch.  As we both ate in silence his co-stars came to the table and sat down with us.

One of the other actors asked me my name, I looked up at him and thought to myself man this dude has really dirty glasses on (part of his wardrobe) and I said “My names Ronnie” (that was my nickname as a kid) he then responded in a chipper voice “Hello Ronnie, I’m Judd” I said hi back as he sat down across from me.  Before I knew it my table was being taken over by almost the entire cast of the film, with the exception of the big actor, who played the minister, who sat with his, I’m assuming girlfriend near one of the RV’s they stayed in.  I finished my lunch and said goodbye to the group of rough and tumble guys that were sitting with me and they all turned and said bye, then Judd said “Bye Ronnie, see ya later” and I waved again and left.  This is the Judd I was eating lunch with……

Judd Nelson
Had I know I was eating with “the” future John Bender, I wouldn’t have left nearly so soon from my lunch table!

They filmed in my hometown for almost three weeks, and I during that time, enjoyed the perks of being fed by the outstanding catering trucks all because of my dad and his part time gig as a movie set security guard.

Kevin Costner and Jason Robards at the beginning of the wedding dance scene
Fandango Dance Scene II
The town square after it was transformed.  This is the dance scene with Kevin Costner and Suzi Amos (Titanic actress and James Cameron’s future wife)

As the days passed and they continued filming I was always around either at my mom’s office or with my dad and of course eating from the catering truck.  This is where I first tried foods I hadn’t eaten before, as mentioned the bratwurst with hot mustard, corned beef on rye, which one of the chefs on the truck said was “authentic New York” style, pasta with shrimp in garlic sauce.  All the while enjoying how our dusty little town had been all dressed up to be in a big time Hollywood film.

Fandango Storefront Pic
The Old Jail Restored
Portales Image Fandango
My moms old office in the background, Kevin Costner and Judd Nelson in the forefront pretending to set up for the wedding scene.  Notice the old phone booth up against the light pole.  Those things were all over town.

I sat down to lunch or dinner with the “guys” from the film more than once, never realizing who they were or more importantly, who they would become.  Kevin Costner ate with me on several occasions.  My mom actually took a picture of me with him sitting at a wooden picnic table and he’s smiling with his hand around my shoulder.  I tried in vain to look for that picture in boxes and boxes of old pictures my mom has stashed in her storage to no avail.  Then before I decided to write this post I asked her about the pictures from the movie that was filmed back in 1984.  She said “Oh, I threw a lot of those pictures away, those actors never amounted to much” and I almost screamed at her saying “Are you fucking serious?! You threw them away?!”

She looked at me and I took my phone and brought up a picture of Kevin Costner today and said “This is ‘the’ actor, the one in the dirty tuxedo that you though wouldn’t amount to anything, do you recognize him?” She squinted her eyes and said “Oh, that’s him?” I was furious, but what can I say?  Now I have no bragging rights or proof to show anyone I had an actual picture with “the” Kevin Costner before he became famous.

The film was called Fandango, and has since become somewhat of a cult classic.

Fandango Movie Poster


In this clip, the very first scene was shot in an even smaller town south of my hometown named Tornillo (which is screw, literally) in Spnaish.  The large tree and small house or bus bench was where many of us in high school would go, sit by the small river and drink beer.  But here, it’s transformed, made to look older than usual and the small two lane highway was used as a landing strip for Truman Sparks to land his plane on.

The next scene is where my dad, uncles and a lot of the towns people were used as extras for the dance/wedding scene.  It was filmed at 2:30am, they shot this scene like eight times to get it right.  The catering trucks were just outside camera shot and they were pumping out hot coffee, hot chocolate with whipped cream and tons of pastries to the actors and extras.  This is where I had my very first European style chocolate croissant.

The gazebo in the town square was also recently remodeled, now it has wooden beams, what you see in the film with the ironwork scrolls is what I use to hang off of as a kid, like a jungle gym.  I loved rollerskating in that square, this is where I learned to use a skateboard, where my friend Toni and her boyfriend Joey found me on that horrible Valentines Day and took their revenge on a Dodge Duster.  I love how the church is lit up so at night you can see the soft glow of the lights through the windows.

So this is how my hometown was famous and for a few glorious weeks back in 1984, and where I was elbow to elbow as a fourteen year old, eating lunch with Kevin Costner and Judd Nelson.

Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!

The Huntress915



Songs That Have Been Exhaled or Ruined By Brilliance or Stupidity

It’s happened to all of us at one time or another, we have a favorite song that we tied to either a moment or a person in our past.  A song that lived deep in our minds that when we heard it the positive or negative deluge of memories would come back to sucker punch us in the feels.  Songs that we heard as kids, adolescents or adults that meant something to us.  Songs that we abhorred, for instance Gangam Style, Lord if I hear that song one more time I’m going to………..ahem, anyway on to today’s post.

As a bonafide Gen-Xer for me songs are a marker of time, a brand on something so special or hated that we carry them with us for the rest of our life’s whether we want to or not.   It doesn’t matter who you are it is inevitable that you too are carrying around a lyrical reminder of your past.  Somehow being the only female growing up in a family of older male cousins, I was exposed to singer/song writers from the late 70’s and a lot of the rock from that era too.  There are some songs that are branded forever to one person, and those songs are hard to listen to without remembering his presence in my life such as Crazy Love by Poco, Ventura Highway by America, Love Will Keep Us Alive by the Eagles, If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot and Roberta Flacks The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.  Listening to those songs are emotional torture and I try to avoid listening to them at all costs.

So when I began to really pay attention to movie soundtracks I realized that a lot of the songs I either loved or hated from my youth were being used and sometimes corrupted to the point of detestable rage.   Let’s take the song Careless Whispers by Wham, which was one of the very first love songs I associated with my pre-teen adolescence. Yes okay it was a song about cheating and the remorse one felt and all that jazz, but I was thirteen at the time what did I know?  It was an emotional marker if you will for the very first “older” crush I had as a freshman in high school.  His name was Carlos Garcia, and he had already graduated, my mom and his mom were coworkers so I saw him at my mom’s office all the time, he was a dream.

For a long while I hadn’t heard the song, and I do mean a long time and if I had, it didn’t pay too much attention to it.  And then……the movie Deadpool staring Ryan Reynolds came out in 2016 and it changed how I associated with the song completely.  I thought to myself, well this is an interesting development, as I sat through the film wondering if it was either going to fuck up my memories or erase them altogether.  Interestingly enough, I loved Deadpool, not just as a film, but the comic book character entirely.  He’s the epitome of the anti-hero, full of dark optimism and a hint of sarcasm, okay more than a hint, he’s full of that ball busting, in your face attitude that I admire so much.  From then on I associated Careless Whispers with Deadpool and not Carlos Garcia, which wasn’t a bad turn of emotional association in my mind.  It became one of my all-time favorite songs and I have no problem with hearing it and imagining Deadpool playing it on his phone while he attempts to woo his girlfriend in spite of his insecurity at being physically deformed.  Deadpool is my hero, and also my alter ego according to a team-building exercise at work, but that’s a post for another time.

Deadpool What gif
Careless Whispers by Wham used in the soundtrack to Deadpool, totally brilliant!

Continuing on, many songs from my youth and early adulthood were many but I had always had favorites as some of you will know, all of us do.  It’s like an emotional recording in our psyche that we will never be able to get rid of no matter how good or bad.  So, on to the bad.

Hall & Oats were a staple while I was growing up, and I loved their songs.  A duo of lyrical masterminds, they wrote songs that could resonate with your inner most feelings with songs like She’s Gone, Sarah Smile and Rich Girl.  When they rose to even more recognition in the 1980’s their songs became peppy and more pop than singer songwriter, a far cry from their songs of the 1970’s.  I was okay with that, I love their songs but then, Will Farrell managed to fuck up one of my favorite songs, he mutilated every single memory and every soft dreamy feeling I had associated with the Hall & Oats song You Make My Dreams, a far cry from the film The Wedding Singer that used that very same song, only in a more Huntress appropriate scene.  Will Farrell seems to fuck up a lot of things, the film Holmes and Watson for instance, but I’ll leave that one alone for now.

One day as I was going about my normal Saturday night routine of taking care of my tootsies and giving myself a pedicure, my son was watching the movie Step Brothers with Will Farrell and John C. Riley, I wasn’t paying attention to the film too much.  Then my son began to laugh wildly at a scene with the “step-brothers” are becoming best friends as the song You Make My Dreams plays in the background.  Now every time I hear that song I can’t seem to shake the image of two full grown men traipsing about in their underwear, as they dance and act like complete imbeciles, all the while Hall & Oats are the soundtrack to their stupidity and ineptness.  Shredded, those assholes shredded every good memory I had of Hall & Oats and the song You Make My Dreams!

Step Brothers
These two idiots have ruined You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oats forever.

Now every time I hear it I shudder, change the station or skip it on my iTunes that’s how bad they decimated what was once a great 80’s song full of memories and wonderful inner sunshine!

So we will talk about advertising, and how the world of adverts has also obliterated songs from my youth that once held deep personal emotional memories for me.  So here we go…..

Bounce Sheets, this tiny little dryer sheet has paid some big time advertising agency to ruin the song Your Love by the Outfield, which featured prominently in my adolescence.  Now, when I listen to it while driving in the car, I imagine some dude giving a presentation with a wrinkled shirt, embarrassed that he didn’t iron before going to work…..thanks Proctor & Gamble, thanks a lot you bastards!

The Outfield

Speaking of bastards, how about the pharmaceutical company that manufactures the medication Anoro?  They took a great Fleetwood Mac song, Go Your Own Way and although they didn’t change any of the lyrics, now it’s a cheesy “lighter” version that tells you if you have asthma you can go your own way with Anoro.  What does that even mean!?! I also know that the artist who wrote and sang these songs allowed them to be used in the commercials and movies I’m talking about.  They sold them to the advertising companies for big bucks, like they didn’t already have big bucks, right?

Oh and let’s not forget a brand new commercial for Dos Equis, goddamned you freaking Mexican beer assholes, for taking a much beloved song that I held near and dear to my heart all through the 80’s and 90’s and ruined it with a classless, mimicking 1980’s redo of Total Eclipse of the Heart!!! I can never hear that song without having that stupid commercial in my mind playing over and over!!

Dos Equis 80's
“Once upon a time there was a light in your life.  But now there’s only a line at the bar” is a horrible, twisted lyric used by Dos Equis

With that said, much respect to the late great Jim Morrison from the Doors, he refused $75k back in 1969 for the use of Light My Fire to be used in a cigarette commercial, which apparently now would be worth $500k, he didn’t sell out but because he was the sole writer of the the song and was the only one that had a say in what or where the song could be used.

Jim Morrison

So those are a few of the songs that have been ruined by movies or commercials or given me a different perspective.  I have nothing against great songs being used for movie soundtracks because they enhance a film, they speak about the characters and their emotions, but I do have a problem with them being used for commercials where the original song is diluted, monsterized, turned into lyrical cheese to sell products.  Oh dear gawd the songmanity!

Until next time y’all, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


A Huge Accomplishment for One is Intimidating to Others, Others with Severe Mommy Issues…..

Welcome to a special Friday post by the Huntress! Today’s post is brought to you by…..SARCASM, the best way to get those “mind fucks” in when you need them the most. Also brought to you by REALITY, that thing that bites you in the ass when you least expect it!

On to today’s post! Yesterday during my lunch hour I was perusing through LinkedIn and on my feed I found a wonderful article about 24 year old Briana Williams, a single mom of a 1 year old daughter who graduated from HARVARD LAW SCHOOL!! Come on peeps, give this girl a huge hand, I’ll wait…….(Jeopardy theme playing……….).

Brianna Williams
24 year old Briana Williams and her daughter Evelyn in 2018

This 24 year old accomplished what many aren’t able to and she has a baby as well which makes her graduating from law school even more amazing,  this story is from 2018 but found its way into LinkedIn this past week, you can read the article about Ms. Williams here.  This young woman is from Atlanta, Georgia and when she began her studies at Harvard she got by, by being a waitress and bartender to support herself.  Not to mention the time it took for her to study and do her classwork AND having to take care of her baby daughter.  It’s daunting to just think about it.  But as I read on about this amazing young woman, I began to read the comments section of my LinkedIn feed.  And there was a comment by some douche bag (a local douche bag) who said he couldn’t be happy for a single mother because he was raised by a single mom and he “suffered” the consequences of having to grow up without his mom when he “needed” her around.

This set off a firestorm of fury inside because many of the responses were to ask this douche bag why he felt he needed to bring down someone else’s accomplishment by comparing it to his experiences.  As I read his long and emotionally needy diatribe he kept saying that he and his brothers were raised by his mom who was a single mom, and she was so busy supporting them she didn’t have time to pay attention to them so they grew up “on their own.”  As I kept reading the anger grew, because I, as a single mother of three boys who worked hard to support them as well as going to college to get my bachelor’s, knew my boys don’t feel this way, or did they?  So yesterday afternoon I went home and as I prepared dinner I asked my son if he ever felt that I had neglected them while I worked.  He looked at me and sarcastically replied (I wonder where he gets that from?) “Really mom? Your seriously asking me that, when you taught me and both my brothers how to drive.  You taught all of us how to shave and that’s something dads should do, but you did it.  You taught us how to cook, iron, and wash our clothes and how to change the spark plugs and tires on our cars, you helped us with homework and still found time to attend Pooky’s (my youngest) tennis and wrestling matches, you think you neglected us?”

I could see that he was sincere through the fog of sarcasm in his response.  So as I took my daily run, I kept thinking more about what this asshole had posted on LinkedIn about this wonderful young woman’s accomplishments.  The more I thought about it the angrier I got, so when I came back to work I got back onto my LinkedIn feed and tried to find that post so I could include it here, comments from douche bag and all.  But it looked like someone had taken that one comment and all of the responses down, which was a good thing because this woman’s hard work and determination don’t need to be clouded by one man’s selfish and misguided thoughts.  My intention was to respond to this obviously needy, mommy issue holding asshole to tell him that if he felt that way, it was his mom’s fault and not compare another’s accomplishments to his mother’s failures.

This is why I think that is, first of all if this asshole douche bag feels that he can’t be happy for a single mother’s hard work and accomplishments that she and she alone worked for, there are bigger issues at play in this dudes tiny little mind.  If for any reason this “man” and I use that word loosely, thinks he “suffered” in anyway because his mom worked hard to provide for him and his brothers, to keep them clothed, fed and a roof over their heads but didn’t get enough of his mother’s attention then all I have to say is, that’s his mother’s fault.  If this “man” feels the need to drag down others, and by his comments it’s apparently only single mothers, then his mom raised a spoiled, self-absorbed, self-entitled little prick who probably got everything he asked for.  Because (and this is only an assumption, by his comment) if he was raised to know someone’s worth, if he knew how to work hard for what he wanted instead of demanding it (and probably getting it), if he actually saw what his mother went through for him and his brothers, if he ever knew how hard it is for a single mother in a one income household to provide for more than two people, if he saw her emotional struggles he wouldn’t be the asshole douche bag he is today!

Yes, this will hit a hot spot with some, but I speak from experience here and it’s enraging to see someone, especially someone who is bringing down another person’s accomplishments without walking a mile in their shoes, is an asshole douche bag with mommy issues that will follow him throughout his adult life.  I raised my boys to know the difference between wanting and needing, to know that through hard work you can get what you want and need all at the same time.  To have compassion for those in situations they know nothing about, to not assume or judge solely by a person’s appearance because they too will fall into that category at one point or another in their lives.  And most of all, intelligence above emotion, always, think before you speak and know that if you say something stupid or cruel, prepare to suffer the consequences.

I also know there are tons and I do mean tons of single fathers out there of all ages and demographics who are going through the very same thing.  I am very aware of the plight of a lot of single parents both men and women who struggle everyday to do what they can for their children.  I am by no means trying to put one over the other, a single parent is a single parent and their struggles are real.  This post was to be a counter point of a certain douche bag asshole, raised by a single mother who isn’t one bit grateful for what she did for him and who couldn’t say something nice about someone who managed to make her dreams come true in spite of a lot of obstacles she had to overcome to get to where she’s at now.  Believe me I wish I could find his comments so everyone could see what an asshole his mother raised!  But I couldn’t, so this will have to do.

So in honor of Briana Williams and her little girl Evelyn, this if for both of you….

“She’ll be richer by far when her dreams come true” – Tesla

P.s. Aren’t these guys gorgeous?  I mean give me 80’s hair band/rock/metal any day and I’ll be one happy Huntress!

Until next time y’all and remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!

The Huntress915


Childhood Bullies, their Bullying Parents and Sweet, Sweet Karma.

When I was growing up, I like many kids growing up the late 70’s and 80’s, I was bullied at one point or another.  I grew up in a rural town on the outskirts of El Paso Texas, it was somewhat isolated and our school district was small but that didn’t mean there weren’t bullies, either home grown or from another town.  When I was growing up my parents had friends that ran in the same social circles, especially since my dad played baseball on countless weekend teams.  So on a number of occasions our weekends were spent with families from other teams watching our dads play baseball and then drink afterwards, while the mom’s would pack lunches or take enough supplies for everyone to gather together after the game and have one giant cookout.

But more than a few of my parents friends weren’t the nicest people, and even their kids showed signs of growing up in the same behavior, I mean come on apple, tree what can I say right?  One of these baseball couples that were not only friends of my parents they were “compades” which meant they were with them when my parents got married, like the best man and maid of honor. This family lived two and half miles from where we did, in the town next to ours called Clint.  It was literally down the road from our house, a straight line into a completely different town, economically, socially and in attitude as well.  Clint was a farm town, with rich white farm owners, which in turn meant they had a socioeconomic say in how their town grew, what boundaries they set and how their kids acted.  So, everyone that went to school in that school district believed that anyone from my hometown or the town nine miles away (Fabens) were beneath them.

I’m not exaggerating when I say this, there was an attitude of social disparity that came with living within the boundaries of our own communities, all perpetuated by economic backgrounds and financial status.  Spending many summers with this particular family I became, not so much friends with the girls of this couple but acquaintances trying to knockout hours of boredom while our dads played baseball and our mothers gossiped under the shades of the baseball park.  We played, talked about school, friends and even a couple of time spent the night with each other.  But as we grew older there was a divide, our attitudes changed towards each other and neither of us would be caught dead hanging out with one another.

It didn’t help that my mom’s friend Bertha would criticize me in front of my mom and say things like “So are you going to get those teeth of hers fixed? Because she’ll never find a husband looking like that” and of course I couldn’t say anything because I’d get slapped or told to shut the fuck up.  Meanwhile Hortense had cute freckles, hazel eyes, blonde hair and she looked like goddamned Shirley Temple!  I was dark haired, very light skinned and my eyes were plain old brown.  My disdain for my mother’s friend grew as I got older.  When I got pregnant she came to my baby shower and I overheard her telling my mom “Oh well at least you’ll have tons of grand-kids and not worry about her needing to find a job because she’ll be at home or working part time as a lunch lady.”  I was furious and I walked up to my mom after this bitch had walked away and asked her why she hadn’t defended me?

Fairy God Mother Pic
Hortense’s Mother Bertha

All my mother did was say “Why? She’s right, what are you going to do with your life now that you’re pregnant?  You won’t graduate high school, you won’t do anything” I could feel hatred for my mother beginning to roll and boil in the pit of my stomach.  I think that’s the day I emotionally cut my mom off, I just hadn’t learned to deal with her narcissism until recently.   Anyway back to my story of karma, as teenagers, getting older the animosity seemed to grow and get more odious as time went by.  My parents would often go and visit their friends in Clint and would ask if I’d like to go along to go to see (I’m going to call her Hortense, because I know she’d hate that name).  I would say no because I no longer wanted to hang out with Hortense and I’d stay behind.  Hortense was my age, but she acted like she was older, and told me so on numerous occasions.  A power play of course to intimidate me, but it was only an attempt I knew how old she was.  Each of our towns would hold a Fiesta or carnival for our church’s patron saint every summer, Clint’s would be in August and San Eli’s would be in September.  It almost always rained during their carnival which to me was our patron saint pissing karma on their so called parade.  And like normal teenagers we’d attend each of the carnivals/fiestas to scope out each other as rivals and to meet new people, you know see if the grass was really greener.  Well not for them as we were mudcats and they were……well pretentious assholes.

My friends and I would often be confronted by the “rich” girl gangs and on occasion we’d end up in a fights.  One of the times it rained so hard that I came home covered head to toe in mud, and my mom asked me what happened and I told her.  She was actually shocked that I’d told her the truth, I mean why would I lie?  After a hot shower and some food our phone rang and low and behold it was my mom’s friend from Clint.  She bitched and complained that my friends and I had “jumped” her sweet innocent little Hortense and she was consoling her because apparently she came home with a black eye and bloody nose.  In my defense it was an all-out brawl, there were about eight of us and nine of them, and we all began to swing at the same time.  In the rain and mud I had no clue who I was hitting or who was hitting me, all I knew was if I was going to go down, I was going to go down swinging.   But before it all began Hortense and I had a few choice words for each other, all because of her stupid big mouth little sister, who I’ll call Helga, because the bitch was ugly as fuck and she looked like a Helga.

Helga and I had seen each other during the carnival and she came up to me and my friends and said “Hi Huntress, my sister thinks you’re an ugly bitch and your parents are stupid poor.”  No shit that’s what that fat, ugly waste of space said, my friend Toni (Antonietta) got up close to her and said “Oh really where’s your sister now? And why doesn’t she come and tell her to her face?”  Helga by this point was shitting bricks, Toni was not someone to mess with, and the rest of my friends joined in the taunting making this little bitch cry.  Now for the record, my parents weren’t poor, we as a family were well off, more so than many of the rich bitch kids in Clint.  Both my parents worked and they only had two kids, so they could afford to buy us pretty much what we wanted or needed.  The only difference was I was from the wrong side of the tracks, metaphorically speaking, because I lived in San Eli instead of Clint.  So I told Helga that I never had to wear hand my downs like she did, I didn’t have to play with used toys like she did, nor did I have to worry about money because my mom worked unlike her mother.  I may have mentioned that her mom was a lazy bitch and that’s why they were poorer than we were.  I also threw in there that we had two cars and we didn’t have to flip a coin to see which parent was going to use it.

That was enough to make Helga cry, and before me and my friends knew it, her uglier sister and her gang of rich bitch friends came looking for me and mine and all hell ensued.  Knee deep in mud and swinging like inmates in a prison riot.  As I dried my hair with a bath towel my mom yelled at me to come to the kitchen and then she handed me the phone, without saying a word she just handed me the phone, like I was supposed to know what or who I was talking to. All I heard on the other end of the line was Hortense’s mother going off on me, and I was caught off guard.  I looked at my mom in complete disbelief, why didn’t she defend me?

Why did she let this idiot woman yell at me when I wasn’t the one that started all of this?  Why was she just standing there listening in on the other phone, when all I could do was stay quiet? I was engulfed in anger both at my stupid mother for not defending me and at that idiot Hortense for lying about what happened.  If it had been me, I would have told my mom “Yeah I got my ass kicked because of my big mouth” like when I did one day after school when I fought Carmen Almanzar, we called her Grape Ape because she was huge, albino looking and mean as hell.  Anyway I took responsibility for that day, but I suppose I knew that Hortense wouldn’t because she was a spineless chicken shit. I hung up the phone mid-scolding and Hortense’s mother yelled at my mom as to why I had hung up.  My mom yelled at me to pick up the phone and I kept walking into my room.

It wasn’t enough to be bullied at school, and by girls in another town, as well as their idiot parents.  I also had to go through that shit with my own mother, she was always comparing me to her friend’s daughters, how beautiful they were, how smart they were, how devoted they were to their mothers.  How so-and-so’s daughter got into college, how so-and-so’s daughter didn’t get pregnant at sixteen and so on.  That day was burned into my mind, and I suppose my soul because of my mother and her actions.  But somehow karma came when I least expected it to, fast forward twenty some odd years to present day.  I had taken my mother to one of her doctor’s appointments and who do we run into? My mother’s friend from Clint and her ugly and now fat as hell daughter Hortense.

Ugly Step Sister Pic

I had to drop my mom off at the door to the doctor’s office so I could go find a parking space, I had left work half day so I was still dressed in my two piece Ralph Lauren business suit, high heels and pearls (yes I know I sound pretentious but there is a point to this, and yes this is how I dress for work every day).

As I made my way into the waiting room, my mom yells out “Mija, I’m right here!  Look who’s here, Bertha and Hortense” Hortense looked at me up and down like I was a life-size T-bone steak, which by the looks of it, she could eat in one bite.  Her mother looked at me the same way, but I…..I was thinking of that day back in 1984 when this stupid bitch and her mother caused all kinds of hell for me.  Bertha stuck her hand out to shake mine as she asked “Oh how are you?” I looked at my mom, beaming with pride and it nauseated me.  Now, now my mother was proud of me, in spite of the fact that I got pregnant at sixteen, I shamed her forever (her words not mine).  Now she proudly laid claim to me, as her daughter because now, I was successful, now I had my bachelors and master’s degrees, now I was financially independent and now I was the daughter she wanted back when I was only thirteen or fourteen years old.

My mother turned to Bertha and told her I worked at a prominent university, that I had gotten my bachelor’s and master’s in spite of being divorced (this sounded like an insult to me) and that I was house hunting and planned to go on an Alaskan cruise and take her with me (complete and total lie, I’d never go on a cruise with my narcissistic mother).  Hortense on the other hand looked like she was uncomfortable, and she looked like she weighed about 250 lbs. and I had just lost 32 pounds, was working out and looked absolutely great compared to Hortense.  Again I have nothing against the fluffy people in this world, but this bitch was one of many of my mother’s friend’s daughters I was constantly compared to.  And most of them didn’t like me because of where I grew up, so I thought, fuck it!  By this time Bertha had gotten tired of holding her hand out so I could shake it, which of course I didn’t.

In any case the awkward moment kept going on for what seemed like hours.  Bertha finally said to my mom, in Spanish “Well what? Your daughter isn’t going to say hi?” I looked at both these pathetic women and said to my mom “Mom, let’s sit over here closer to the window, there’s too much riff-raff over on this side of the waiting room.” I took my mom’s hand and began to lead her to the other side of the waiting room.  As my mom got up, she looked stunned and I whispered to her “Just do what I say and shut up.”  I had to talk to her like that because she’s the kind of person that would make a scene.

As my mom walked away Bertha said “How rude, you haven’t changed a bit” and I looked back at her and said “Oh yes I have bitch, because now I can tell you AND your fat ass daughter to go to hell and mean it.  I don’t need my mothers permission to do so either, or be afraid of what she say’s or thinks, so both of you can fuck off!” they looked shocked and never saw that coming.  I said what I said because I knew her daughter turned out to disappoint in bigger ways than I ever could have.  My mother had no expectations of me after I got pregnant, her mother gloated that Hortense would go to college, become a lawyer, walk on the moon, marry John Cusack, blah, blah, blah.   Instead what happened was, she married a mudcat, a guy from MY hometown, something Hortense’s mother never wanted, she always warned her to stick to boys in her side of the tracks.  Also Hortense never went to college, she never accomplished any of the things her mother told my mother she would do.

Only a Bitch

She had three kids with this guy, then he cheated on her, they divorced and she’s a cafeteria lunch lady in the elementary school IN MY HOMETOWN!!  Maybe what I did was childish and maybe I could have gone about handling that situation better.  But I did what I did and I don’t regret it one fucking bit.  I had done way more than all of them ever thought I would, including my mom.  I knew that all my accomplishments since my divorce were mine and mine alone.  Even my mother can’t take credit, and believe me she’s tried and I’ve quickly put that shit to rest, but on that day it was all me.   As my mother slowly walked to the chairs I had pointed out in the waiting room, I looked back and Hortense and her mother were whispering to each other and that’s when I flipped those two bitches from the so-called “right side of the tracks” off in the classiest way possible, and I did it with the biggest smile on my face.

After we left, my mother asked me why I was so rude to her friend, I reminded her that Bertha wasn’t really her friend, which she would constantly put her down not to mention that that bitch would bully me and my mom wouldn’t set her straight.  I told her that I would overhear their conversations sometimes as a kid, she didn’t say anything.   I also reminded her about what both of them did to me that day after the mud fight, which of course my mom said to me “Ay that was so long ago you can’t possibly still hold a grudge for that.”  I responded with “Oh hell yes I can, and today I did what I wanted to do back then.  Because you didn’t do it, you just let her talk down to me when I was a kid” she sat in silence as I drove her home and believe me it’s hard for my mother to stay silent.

So, if I have to surmise karma did me a favor that day or should I say over the last twenty-five years or so because this woman and her seemingly over hyped, over weight daughter ended up right where they least expected, tied to someone from the wrong side of the tracks and emotionally pistol whipped by the sharp, fork-tongued daughter of a friend they had low or no expectations from.  And for those who are wondering, yes it felt fucking great.  Yes, I could have just been the perfect daughter my mother always wanted but as the singer Pink once said “I got a brand new attitude, and gonna wear it tonight, I wanna get in trouble I wanna start a fight!”

Bernie GIF
Suck it Bitches!!!

This is the Huntress915 until next time.


Part II – Online Dating Tips for Men from The Huntress

Welcome back kids to the second part of “Online Disaster Dating Game!”  If you’ve read my last and final attempt at online dating, it was as I suspected, a clusterfuck of men with some misguided ideas about what women are looking for on the online dating sites.  If you haven’t read it, then you can here.   Now before I get messages about how not all men suffer from chronic bouts of verbal diarrhea and that somewhere out there are men who are classy, cultured and sophisticated, I will say I agree.  Not all men are the types of creatures one finds on online dating sites, with oversexed ideas and raging testosterone that turns them into knuckle dragging assholes.  I know many decent, loving and responsible men who don’t fall into that stereotype.

And on the rare occasion one will find one of these men online but they seem to be like Bigfoot or the aliens at Roswell, we’ve all heard of them but have never really encountered them ourselves.  But I digress, the purpose of this post is to try and steer those misguided LvrBois, LadiesMen, LatinLvrs, Hoodlums and ArmyHunks in the right direction.  Because I’m pretty sure most of the women on these sites are sick and tired of men thinking they can say just about anything without it having some kind of consequence.  I’ve asked some of my male friends both married and single what they think about my experiences on these dating sites.  I’ve gathered some very interesting information and I’m going to share some of it with you, so onward we go.

Tip #1 – Ask about her interests.  We know you all like talking about yourselves, how long you were married or if you’ve never been married (if the dude is 57 years old and has never been married, his name might just be Norman Bates) how many times a week you go golfing, what kind of car you drive and how many kids you have living with you.  But do stay away from a surefire way to be ghosted by the lady you’re interested in and DO NOT under any circumstances talk about your ex.   About how big a bitch she is, how much your divorce cost and how she’s now married to the guy she cheated on you with! These topics will lead to you to being ghosted or blocked, I know what I’m saying. Also listen, listen, listen!! There’s nothing worse than talking to a guy that’s a complete corn-hole and a one-way street when it comes to communication. We get it, you like to talk about yourself a lot, but once in a while you need to listen, REALLY LISTEN!

Joey Donner Meme

Tip #2 – Try and I do mean TRY HARD not to sound overeager or needy.  Again we all have our hang-ups it’s only human.  But when you’re talking to a woman your clearly interested in, take your time in getting to know her.  There’s nothing worse than having to constantly reassure a middle aged man (or any man) you’ve never met, that you are interested in him or explaining that we need to take it one day at a time before we decide we want to meet you face to face.  The insecurity thing is just plain aggravating and totally unattractive.  And for FUCKS SAKE act you age guys!  Really I mean the constant barrage of needy ass questions like “Do you really like me?” “Are you serious about talking to me, be honest” and “I’m so interested in you, I hope you’re interested in me” shit gets old and it gets old pretty fucking fast!  I realize that there are women out there that have the same characteristics but I’m strictly talking about men here.

Spanish Inquisition Meme

Tip #3 – Be Honest.  I can’t stress this enough to men.  Because being honest is going to win her over faster than lying!  And when I say be honest I mean do so on your online profile as well.  Women don’t want to see a picture of you when you were in your 30’s (unless you are really 30) or a high school picture or a picture of Tom Cruise instead of yours.  I mean really, come the fuck on.  Don’t lie about shit that we will eventually find out about like your height, eye color, if you’re bald, or if you say your “average build” and you really weigh 350 lbs! (No I have nothing against the “fluffy” men out there) but that kind of shit is hard to overlook when we finally meet you (kinda like if you’re 55 and live with your mom, you fucking scrub!)  And if you’ve lied, we WILL find a drastic way to bail on our first meeting like climbing out a bathroom window at a restaurant or bar or walking out the back door! (No comment on that) moving on.  And women over think a lot of shit like, if you’re willing to lie to us about the most trivial things, then our assumption will be that you are willing to lie about the important stuff like if you’re really married and all your looking for is to get laid!  If that’s the case then I suggest you stick to finding women on Tinder!

You Aint Gotta Lie Craig

Tip #4 – TALK for at least one to two weeks.  This is extremely important because some women have had bad relationships (as have men) and are put off by the constant nagging that you want to meet her.  A week to two weeks is a good time frame to establish a verbal foundation to build on.  You need to be patient, especially with online dating.  I realize that the demographics of the women to men ratio is 1/5.  That’s five women to every one man.  Some of us are aware that you have a virtual cavalcade of women to choose from but that doesn’t mean you can fish, catch and throw back the ones that aren’t responding to you fast enough.  We’re human and we have feelings, just like you do and we don’t appreciate the pushy, overzealous attitude when you might lose “the” one you like because we aren’t acting fast enough.  In this case patience is key, don’t fuck it up by asking her to meet you on day two.  This is an indication to women that you are too needy and overbearing to deal with, so STOP IT!

When Harry Met Sally

Tip #5 – DON’T TALK ABOUT SEX!  Until you know for absolutely sure she’s going to allow you to talk to her that way.   If you begin asking her about her previous relationship and how long it’s been since she’s had sex and she shy’s away from it, STOP.  This is coming from experience, again unless she’s okay with it and (this is going to totally sound like a double standard) unless she initiates it first stay away from the subject.  And what I mean by this is, don’t talk to her using vulgar and sexually suggestive or aggressive comments, like what you’d like to do to her, when and where, just stay away from thinking she’s so desperate to have sex she’ll settle for the first guy that comes along.  I know what I’m talking about here, nothing screams “asshole” more than someone who keeps interjecting sexual innuendo into a conversation about your impending first date.  You don’t know her well enough to go that far in conversation.  And she will walk away from you faster than a stripper being pelted with quarters at a strip club.

Bitch Lap Meme

Tip #6 – DO NOT initiate a conversation unless you intend to see it through.  When you begin online dating there are a lot of women and you will be inundated with many wanting to talk to you.  As mentioned above there are five women to every one man, and don’t waste our time if you’re not genuinely interested in getting to know us.  Sending “flirts” and “winks” does not constitute a conversation and our time, just like yours is precious.  So don’t waste it by doing the casual drive by on our profile, leaving winks and flirts without really wanting to talk.  And on the rare occasion you will be stalked by that one crazy ass woman who thinks that wink or flirt will mean more than it does, and unless you’re ready to have your inbox overflowing with messages from that ONE woman, don’t, because believe me it will not end well.

He's Not That Into You Crazy Girl Meme

Tip #7 – Complete your profile.  When I say this I mean write something other than “I’ll fill that in later” type shit.  You won’t get any hits if women see that you’re just too lazy to fill out a one or two page profile.  We want to know what you’re about, your likes, dislikes, hobbies etc.  And try hard to avoid the website’s automatic answers, if we see twenty profiles with the same answer to questions six: Describe what you do for fun? Chances are we’re going to skip right down to the guy who actually answered his questions with real substantial responses.  Write something heartfelt and real. If you can’t think of anything ask someone you trust enough to help you with this, a best friend or brother.  It’s not rocket science guys, come on!  It should come easy if you’re describing yourself, again DON’T LIE!

Rule #7 meme

Tip #8 – Don’t use stupid profile names.  Use a genuine name on your profile, not something stupid like LvrBoi65, LadiesMan51, LatinLvr08, Hoodlum51, ArmyHunk 55.  Really, ArmyHunk?  This may work with some women (usually the shallow ones looking for a man with money) but those of us that are actually independent and smart will skip right by your profile.  And it will usually indicate to us that you think way too much of yourself to be calling yourself a hunk.  Actually it screams self-absorbed narcist asshole truth be told.  Use something creative like your profession (like Architect007 or Aquarius55) yes they sound cheesy but you’ll probably have more luck with those.  They’re personality neutral and don’t scream “hey, look at me, look at me” in a needy, narcissistic kind of way.

Ron Burgundy meme

Tip #9 – Keep Your Expectations Real.  Okay guys this one is probably THE second most important one and I’ll tell you why.  Most of the women on these online dating sites are real women, with real world issues, hang-ups and self-esteem problems.  We don’t all look like Megan Fox, Sandra Bullock, Jessica Biel or January Jones and chances are even they don’t look like that.  Have you ever seen those actresses without makeup, I mean come on! Having real expectations about the women you start talking to is the first step to avoid being disappointed.  I also realize that women will lie on their profiles, and if you do find one that has, walk away.  Because just like with men, if they can lie about something trivial they can and will lie about the more important stuff.  As the saying goes, real women have curves…..and issues it’s a package deal guys if you can’t handle it then your expectations are most definitely unrealistic.

Bridget Jones Fat

Tip #10 – Don’t Judge Her Mistakes By Your Experiences.  When and if you have established a good verbal foundation chances are you both will begin to talk about your past.  When you do, don’t be a dick-wad and bail if she’s not perfect.  If both of you are on online dating sites you have a reason why.  Just like men, women will make mistakes and just like men we will probably say inappropriate things at the most inopportune times.  But if you find that she was, at one point unfaithful in her previous relationship or that she isn’t as financially responsible as most, you should find out what happened before you decide to ghost her for misconceptions you’ve created in your mind.  Because if you’ve been the victim of infidelity that shit will most definitely hit a sore spot, but remember one thing, she’s not your ex or the woman that caused you that personal turmoil so don’t judge or blame HER for it.  She’s not perfect, she will make mistakes just like you have or will.  And don’t be a douche, if something bothers you about her and you really like her, ask for fucksake don’t just stop communication with her without a reason.

10 Things I hate About You Meme

So there you have it guys, those are the ten tips I have for you on online dating.  These are actual experiences that I and several women I know have been through.  As previously mentioned I also gained some very useful insight from male friends both single and married and included their input.   I believe that men’s ideas and input are important, not all men though, like a specific blogger jerk who commented on my Part I post, and criticized my writing and grammar (like using the word mofo and being surprised that I used the word decorum in the same blog post *gasp*) which only led me to believe he was questioning my intelligence.  Meanwhile his reply to my post was one long run-on sentence with badly placed punctuation and childlike incoherence.

And in his reply to my post he thought he’d give ME criticism on how I should write about my personal perspective and how I should get use to men talking like uncultured swine to women they are just getting to know, about sex, because (and I quote) “that’s apparently normal, missy, so accept it.”  Apparently he felt he needed to give me his unsolicited male perspective without reading any of my previous posts or knowing who I am or how I got here.

This “blogger” also said that maybe my online rejections were a result of karma because I refused to lower my standards about what I want in men, calling it “fair game” as well as resigning myself to “scrapping the bottom of the barrel” of online dating because I’ve rejected those that were attempting to contact me for reasons that according to him were completely unfounded.  Decorum according to him, should be used in ones blog, and “lewd” language should be kept to ones self.  Well, all I have to say is, this is for you.

How do you like decorum now?

So to the men that were more than helpful in giving me their input on my online dating fiasco, I thank you with all my heart!  This includes the male bloggers who follow me and give me nothing but constructive and creative feedback to my posts, but also in supporting to a fellow blogger without having to tear someone else down to make yourselves feel good.  You guys are wonderful and I’m so glad I have friends like you.  So with that, I leave you with this parting thought……..There’s always three sides to every story, his, hers and the truth!

This is TheHuntress915, until next time.


Mid-Week News Update from The Huntress – Ooopps I Did I Again Part I *Dun, Dun*

I did do it again, as Brittany would say and judging from her life lately she says that a lot.  Okay so moving on to the topic at hand.  A friend and I were talking (uh oh you know that’s not good when women get to talking, and when there’s wine involved) and under the influence of said demon alcohol we decided (mutually) that we were going to give online dating one last and final try.  This time we made up our minds that we would do the “older” people dating sites, we settled on OurTime, specifically for plus fifty crowd, even though I’m still 49 (and hanging onto it like the last chocolate croissant in the entire world!).  We based our decision mainly on the fact that we want to look for older, more mature men that are ready to find a serious long term relationship.  We also decided that we were going to pay for only one month at a time, if anything positive came of it then we’d consider going longer.  Was I excited? Stupidly yes.  Did it have a different outcome? Oh fuck no…….

In online dating, verbally and sexual innuendo based offenses are considered especially heinous. In the OnLine Dating World, the dedicated Huntress who investigate these vicious dating crimes is the only member of an elite squad known as the Online Dating Unit. These are her stories. * Dun Dun *

So my friend Victoria both created our online profiles, I did mine late one night not realizing the bombardment of messages I’d get the next day.  I hadn’t even bothered to browse the profiles yet and as I began to look at the messages (I had over 68 new messages in one night) I automatically skipped through profiles with names like LvrBoi65, LadiesMan51, LatinLvr08, Hoodlum51, ArmyHunk 55, as these did not inspire curiosity to even view their profiles, it actually was a huge turn off. I mean honestly what could a dude with the profile name LvrBoi65 really want? Other than a lesson in grammar and of course telling the mofo that if he is indeed 65, he’s too fucking old to be using the screen name LvrBoi, oh lawd the datemanity!  Then I completely delete anyone wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey……..(kidding, just kidding….or am I?).

My friend on the other hand was enjoying the attention, and I tried really hard not to sound like a Debbie Downer but I had to say “It will die down, it’s only like this in the beginning.”  She sighed on the phone and said “I suppose your right, so shouldn’t we jump in while we’re hot?”  I didn’t know how to respond, honestly what could I say?  What I was thinking on the other hand was I should get my money back and just chalk this up to another misguided attempt at finding someone I know I won’t find online.  Although, I had one particular gentleman send me a message telling me he’d like to take me to dinner or lunch to talk and find out more about me, that I thought was pretty interesting.  He’s 60 but then I looked through his profile and he answered the question “What type of relationship are you looking for?” with longtime lover and that was enough for me to click buh-bye.

Online Dating Quote I

Also I found two of the losers I dated previously on different dating sites, Oompa Loompa David from Las Cruces who is still claiming he’s 5’11 and Eddie, a guy I was interested in and then ghosted me right after we met.  Ironically I got a message from Ghost Eddie saying he’d like to get to know me.  What did I do? I responded of course with….”We’ve already met, and you didn’t think I was worthy enough of a thanks but no thanks text or call, meeting you once was enough” and left it at that.   During lunch my friend called me and said we needed to flirt, wink and send messages to the ones we were interested in.  I sighed and agreed, I mean where were we going to get if we didn’t take some initiative right?  So I looked through the profiles and found a couple of local guys that I thought might be interesting enough to talk to.  So I sent one a wink, the other a flirt with a pre-written message that the site has for one to choose.  I logged off and went back to work after my lunch break thinking okay this isn’t so bad right?

Before I left for the day I logged back on to see if I had any new messages, I had sent a text to my friend Victoria and she said she had already talked to two guys she’d flirted with.  I saw that as promising, so I went through my inbox and found a message from one of the guys I’d sent a “flirt” to.  I felt a bit more optimistic, as I opened it and read it my optimism faded.  It read “Hi, thanks for the flirt and you seem like a nice lady but you’re not my type, good luck thanks Jim.”  This was a message from a divorced father of five, who is looking for a woman in my age range to engage in a serious relationship, and I’m not his type, what the fuck?  It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since we’d decided to undertake this frivolous plan of ours and after reading that message I deleted all my information, I closed my account and I asked for a refund.  I didn’t need to pay to get rejected by fifty-something men with unbelievably unrealistic expectations about the women they want to meet.

But right before I deleted my online profile I received a message from a guy with the call sign Nighthawk, no picture, no info nothing.  I went over to his profile to read up about him and he had all the generic taglines from the website but it did say he was 55 and that he worked for a construction consulting firm, had a masters and has been divorced for ten years.  He began asking me about myself, I thought wow something not one of these guys had done before.  So we began to talk and I left my profile alone for the next couple of hours.  Then as the day wound down, he gave me his phone number and said if I wanted to continue talking, I could text him.  Talk about a surprise…..or was it?

After reading through the messages that came through while I was talking to Nighthawk, it was enough to convince myself that one good catch was better than 68 new messages from throwbacks.  I deleted my profile and asked for my $35 back (I asked nicely but I doubt I’m going to get it back) and let my friend Victoria know.

She on the other hand had two dates lined up for last weekend, and I gave her the lowdown on safety, the emergency “bail out” call from me if she needed it and under no circumstances should she let these guys pick her up at her house.  I told her to meet them wherever they were going to go.  Reassured in the fact that I had provided my friend (who’s 56) with enough common sense dating advice, I began talking to Nighthawk via text.  Come to find he’s from Albuquerque, divorced and has one adult son.  That sounded promising, and I told him about myself and we talked for about a week until *dun, dun* his true nature began to show.

Now I’m willing to give a new person in my life the benefit of the doubt when they say things that to me might be a bit off putting as we’re getting to know each other and each other’s quirks.  But as we began to text and the couple of times we spoke on the phone, it became evident that Nighthawk had been alone way to long.  He had seen pictures of me and when I finally asked for a picture of him he gave me this lame ass excuse.

“Oh, did I tell you what happened to my phone? No? Okay so I’m at a basketball game and I’ was trying to get a picture from the bleachers and my phone fell like 60 feet to the bottom.  So the camera on my phone doesn’t work.  But I can receive pictures from anyone.”

I was like oh really, huh how odd. Then he told me his new phone was being delivered sometime next week so that’s when he’d be able to send me a picture.  But wait! There’s more! (Insert cheesy late night advert slogan here) So we began to joke around and get comfortable with each other but not comfortable enough to be absolutely devoid of decorum.  He began acting like we were in the fourth grade for god sake, asking me if I was really interested in him, he asked me the very same thing five different times.  Followed by “Do you want me as your boyfriend, yes or no?” and let’s not forget “What kind of relationship are we going to have, is it friends or will we be boyfriend/girlfriend?”  I had been temporarily sucked back in time as I saw this dude sitting at his desk in elementary school writing a note with two boxes on it that read “Check yes or no if you want me as your boyfriend” in green crayon.

Come the fuck on Bridget, act your fucking age!  But wait there’s more! I calmly answered his question for the fifteenth millionth time.  Then he said he liked the way I wore the red lipstick I had on in my picture.  I politely said thank you and that’s when he reverted to thinking with the other head (y’all know what I’m talking about.)  He said he wanted to kiss me so bad he could taste it, now keep in mind I haven’t seen him and when I asked for him to describe himself he said the following (and I quote).

“Well last time I checked my height was 5’11 and my weight is 190, eyes dark brown, hair is dark brown with a few grays.  I have an average stocky build, and a big cowboy butt.  All muscle no flat butt”

I thought okay he’s got a sense of humor, maybe……right?  But then again he began with his sophomoric questions, do you want me as your boyfriend, do want to talk to me be honest?  Ugh alright already fuck, how many times do I have to tell you I’m interested BUT we need to get to know each other better, STOP with the insecurity!  So you think it got better? No it didn’t.  We began to talk about what our ideal first date would be and he said he’d like to take me horseback riding on his ranch, then maybe a late night dinner out underneath the stars.  I was like whoa…..hold the phone here, this sounds wonderful.  Then he added “Then I’ll roll my tongue around in your mouth to get you excited and………” He didn’t use those exact words because what he said was a lot more vulgar and uncalled for, I used the PG-13 version.  I stopped him right there and asked him how long it had been since he’d had a girlfriend, he answered with “I haven’t had sex in eight years.”  I said to him “I didn’t fucking ask when the last time you had sex was, I asked when was the last time you had a girlfriend or was in a relationship.  But you know what, never mind you just answered my question.”

Online Dating Quote II

He laughed (he fucking laughed!) and said “Well you asked what our perfect first date would be and getting you in the sack would be the perfect first date for me.”  I felt myself begin to get angry, but not just regular angry, I began to feel Hulk angry.  But I tried to keep my cool, and I calmly said to him “And you know what MY perfect first date would be?” He replied “What sweetheart, you can tell me” and I said “A date with a different man” and hung up the phone.  I was furious, I hadn’t talked to this dude for longer than a week and already he was showing his true nature, he was so focused on the sex he “might” have instead of a potential relationship or friendship.  But then again I knew going into this venture it might turn out this way.  I blocked Nighthawk from my phone because I didn’t feel like I needed him to explain or apologize, because if I wanted to feel like I was a piece of meat I would have stayed with Lestat.  Did I mention he revealed he lived with his mom? Indeed, a fifty-five year old that lives with his mother….wow, just…….wow.

My friend Virginia’s dates apparently went very well, she’s got a second date with the guy she went out with on Saturday next weekend. I’m crossing my fingers for her hoping for a positive outcome.  Part two of this report will be on the advice I will give men on what women do and don’t want to hear on online dating sites.

This is the Huntress915, investigator from the Online Dating Unit *dun, dun* until next time, prepare yourselves it’s going to be a bumpy ride!


Don’t Judge A Voice By It’s Accent

Continuing my therapy sessions, Terry had asked me to go through some of my journals to evaluate my mental state at different times in my life.  The purpose of this was so that I could find something that I wrote about other than Lestat.   I have a lot of journals, the last I counted I had over 42 hand written journals and almost all of them about Lestat.  But as I skimmed through a couple from early on in my relationship with him I found a couple of entries about other things happening in my life at the time.   One entry was about a group of guys I worked with, here it is.

Back in 2002 I was working at a fire suppression company, I was the only female in the entire El Paso office.  We had a crew of fifteen service and installation techs, a sales manager and our regional manager that was based in our office.  The company’s headquarters was in Westminster Massachusetts and I spoke with our headquarters often, almost twice a day every day when it came to our office financials and tech support service calls.  We were busy for one of the smaller installations in the company, our Albuquerque office was a lot busier than we were and El Paso is considered a lot bigger, population wise.  All the service and installation techs were good guys, they had a wide variety of personalities which made our monthly staff meetings interesting and sometimes hilarious.  The service techs had to call the service support at headquarters whenever they needed new parts or service call-ins for return maintenance.

I use to talk to a wide variety of people at our main office, and after being there a couple of years I got to know them pretty well, I mean over the phone that is.  I could recognize their voices by the way they answered the phone, and vice versa.  One day one of the ladies I spoke to in our service department called me and asked me about one of our technicians and his call for some out of stock parts.  He was one of our best techs and she called me because she said she didn’t understand what his order was for.  Perplexed I called the tech over the radio and inquired about the call-in he made earlier in the day.  His name was Julian and he was a really good service tech and articulated very well over the phone and via email.  So I couldn’t understand why Maryanne (our headquarters contact) was having issues.

I got all the information from Julian so I could email her the items Julian needed for his service call the following week.  As soon as I hit send, she called me to thank me for getting everything straighten out with the tech.  I said no problem, and then out of curiosity I asked her what she didn’t understand when Julian had called her.  She said “Oh well you know what those Latino’s are like, sometimes we can’t understand them very well because of their thick accents” I was floored and a bit pissed off at the way she said what she did.  I said “Oh really? Well Julian’s been with the company way before I got here and he’s been talking to you for quite a while so why can’t you understand him all of a sudden?”  She said she’s always had a hard time understanding a lot of our technicians and that she was grateful that they finally hired a white girl for the El Paso office because now she could talk to me instead of talking to the techs herself.

I told her that out of the fifteen techs we had only six of them were Latino/Hispanic, and the other nine were white, African-American and we even had a tech from Germany.  I asked her if she had a hard time understanding them, she said “Well no, it’s only the Mexican techs.”  I could feel my blood boil underneath my skin, and I thanked her for her help and hung up.

I didn’t set her straight about her misconception that I was white, and that was on purpose, I had a plan if she continued with this attitude of hers.  I too made the assumption that she might think I was white because I didn’t have an accent, I never have.  I don’t have a regional accent, a Texas drawl or even speak “Spanglish” at work, a mix of Spanish and English, code switching if you will, I hardly speak Spanish at home.

Julian’s parts came in the following day and he came in to pick them up, he thanked me for helping him and I just told him that’s my job.  He said he didn’t understand why Maryanne would have such a hard time, and I shrugged my shoulders and said I didn’t know either.  Now I made sure to pay extra attention to how Julian spoke to me, he did not have a think “Mexican” accent, he spoke very well.  Which made me wonder why Maryanne would say something so inconsiderate.

The following couple of weeks were the same, call-ins to headquarters and return calls to my office for clarification, but only from Maryanne.  The rest of the service reps didn’t call me for help it was only her.  Then came the day when she asked me a question she’d regret for the rest of our time working together.  She called me to ask for clarification on a different tech, and then said “Oh girl I don’t know how you do it working in that border hell-hole, you should apply for a transfer to headquarters or at least to the Albuquerque office” and again my blood boiling I said nothing and finished the conversation.  In her mind she was talking to a while girl in the midst of a bunch of uneducated Hispanics with thick, incomprehensible accents.  I was tired of this racist chick and I was going to do something about it.  At that time called ID wasn’t readily available but we had a dedicated line for each of our service reps and I knew which one was Maryanne’s when she called.

The next time she called I answered the phone like this.

Me: “Tank ya for callin’ Simplex, it’s a wicked deay in El Paso, this is Veronicah how can I help ya?”

Maryanne: Um, can I speak to Veronica?

Me: It’s me, sup?

Maryanne: Are you okay?

Me: Perfect why?

Maryanne: Are you making fun of me?

Me: What mahks ya think Imma making fun of ya?

Maryanne: Well for one your fake Boston accent, it’s pretty obvious…

Me: Oh, I didn’t know I was speaking Bostonian.  What, can’t I say that I’m wicked smaht to a townie from Bahston?  I mean this mornin’ I had a hard time finding mah khakis so I was late to work….

Maryanne: Veronica I don’t appreciate your making light of my accent…..

Me: Oh really? Well then maybe you shouldn’t do the same to my techs, I know you can understand them and I also know that before I came along you were able to understand them just fine!  I don’t appreciate you making them feel second class for any reason.  And by the way I’m not white, I’m a Latina with a WICKED bad tempah, and now that you know I’m a “border town” girl you’ll guard your tone from now on!  Also, I have a hard time understanding some of the things you say as well.  That’s why I ask for you to repeat the service call tickets back to me, so maybe now you know how it feels.

Maryanne: *silence* Um, I’m sorry I didn’t know…..I just assumed that….. I have to go…*click*

Me: *in my head* That’s right bitch!

The next day I got calls from all the other service reps as normal all except Maryanne.  For three weeks after our little incident I didn’t hear from her.  Then one of the other service reps told me that Maryanne had asked for a transfer to international service, which I found ironic.  A couple of months later we had our annual Christmas gathering and we were all having a good time then Julian and Cesar came up to me and said they wanted to thank me for sticking up for them.  I had no idea what they were talking about.  That’s when Julian said that Carlos one of our other techs was in the warehouse when I had my little phone confrontation with Maryanne and heard the whole thing.

I was embarrassed to be honest, I didn’t think anyone was in the office when I decided to do what I did.  Carlos told Julian and from there all the techs and our district manager found out, and for Christmas that year they all pitched in and bought me and my boy’s fourth row tickets to go see the Transiberian Orchestra when they came to El Paso that December!  I had been talking to Julian about being able to afford to buy tickets for me and the boys, but I resolved myself to buy the boys something small for Christmas that year since I was a single mom and barely making ends meet.  I tried not to cry but I couldn’t help it, I lost it completely in front of all the techs and my manager.   From then on all of the techs and I became closer and saw them as fifteen big brothers I didn’t have before, and I appreciated them for what they did for me that Christmas.

After two and a half years with the company, they bought out another smaller company and our office was being merged with the other local office for the company Simplex took over.  I and a few of the techs were let go because they had more employees than they needed.  I got another job and lost track of those guys as we went our own separate ways.  But to this day, those were the best bunch of guys I’ve ever worked with, and I hope they are all doing well, wherever they are!


I Love You and YES I Would Turn You Into The Police!!!!

A couple of weeks ago I got into a philosophical conversation with all three of my sons during Sunday dinner.  It was a long but insightful talk among my boys and myself that turned into a revelation about who their mother is and what she would do and how far she’d go in order to keep them safe, and in turn teach them between right and wrong.  The conversation began as we sat eating our weekly Sunday dinner and were watching Animal Kingdom on FX and my middle son commented about the head of the family, which is the mother.  A mother who raised her children and nephew (all boys) to lead a life of crime.  He said that he’d never follow a mother who would chose that kind of lifestyle and if it meant not communicating with his mom he’d do it.

I agreed with him, and I said that his thought processes show that I raised him right because as a single mother I did my best to do right by my kids in every aspect of their lives.  My oldest mentioned his cousins and how their aunt (their dad’s sister) had fallen into a seedy life of bad dealings which included stealing and unfortunately drugs.  I sat there and told them that I hoped they cut ties with their cousins because they were bad news.  All three said that they had especially since their cousin, the oldest of their aunt’s sons had apparently been involved in a shooting of some sort.  I had known this, I knew that my ex-sister in law was a hypocrite of epic proportions because she claimed to be a born again Christian and yet tolerated and hid her sons activates not only from her husband but from the rest of the family and the law.

All three of my boys mentioned that they had cut ties to her and her kids because of the type of people they were but also because they,  under no circumstances wanted to be associated with such lowlifes (their words not mine but I completely agree).   I also mentioned that it was a good thing they didn’t share a last name so people couldn’t tie them to those worthless thugs.  My oldest mentioned that their aunt had hidden her oldest son from the Sheriff’s deputies when they were investigating that supposed shooting (which I have no doubt he was involved in) and lied saying he was in Mexico with his dad and that she didn’t know where they were.  I sighed and said to all three as I pointed my fork at them “If any of you were to get into that kind of shit, and I’m not saying you would, but IF you did, I’d be the first one at the police department to turn your law breaking ass in, do you hear me?!”

My youngest looked up from his pork chop, mid devour and said “Mom, you’d turn your son into the cops?” and I responded with “Abso-fucking-lutely I would, and you know why? Because I didn’t raise criminals and you’d have to pay for what you did, no matter what it was, you need to pay the price for making that choice and I’d be the one to teach you that lesson no matter how much it would hurt me.”   My middle son looked at my youngest and said “Shit, if I had to choose between going to jail or facing mom, I’d choose jail bro” and my oldest laughed and agreed with him.  Then my oldest asked me “No, really ma, in all seriousness you’d have no problem turning in your sons for whatever they did to the police?”

I looked him square in the face and said “I would have absolutely NO problem whatsoever turning you in, any of you three and that’s not because I don’t love you, it’s because I love that much” and all three looked at each other and agreed that it was easier to acknowledge that their mother would do what she could to help them stay on the straight and narrow instead of hiding their criminal behavior to the world.  After which I added “And of course because if there was a reward then mama would be rolling in it” because you know, I’m just sarcastic like that.   They all rolled their eyes and moaned that of course I would if there was a reward.  That’s when my little one asked “Then why does Aunt Chris keep hiding her boys and telling everyone that she doesn’t know where they’re at?”  I told him because she’s the reason they turned out the way they did, she spoiled them to death, gave them everything they ever wanted and not once made them earn their way or show them that life doesn’t always give you what you want.

Life will knock you on your ass and you have to learn how to navigate through that if you want to have half a chance at making your own way in the world without mommy or daddy there to bail you out of trouble, especially if YOU caused it.

We finished our Sunday dinner and as my two youngest left (with their freshly washed laundry, another reason they go over on Sunday’s) they both hugged me and my youngest said “I love you momma, and I’m proud your my mom, your my hero” and I almost cried.  Okay I did cry after they left.  As I finished cleaning the kitchen I thought to myself how absolutely blessed I am as a mother.  Sure I didn’t feel like that when I became a mother at the age of sixteen with my oldest, but they are true blessings because without them I honestly don’t know where I’d be.


I thanked God, probably for the first time ever, that he made me a mom at sixteen, because if he hadn’t I wouldn’t have three beautiful boys in my life.  Three grown men who all turned out to be responsible, hard working adults.  They have not once caused me any kind of grief other than the normal growing pains one has with kids.

All three of them have never been in any kind of trouble with the law, had friends that dragged them into questionable situations, have stolen from me, been involved with drugs or drained me of money for selfish reasons.  I thanked God for the blessings that are my boys as I opened the freezer to grab my chocolate ice cream I saw a note that said “Sorry mom, I really wanted something sweet I’ll buy you another carton when I get paid, love you, mean it, Michael” and looked up at the ceiling and said out loud “Really God? I just thanked you for those pains in the ass and now this?”

This is the Huntress915, until next time.


Why I Choose To Write This Way……It Isn’t Any of Your Business….Adriana!

I have a friend, okay maybe friend may not be what she is, an acquaintance who reads my blog but has the nasty habit of critiquing its content to death and to me unless you’ve experienced everything that I have, I don’t need critiques.   I get weekly emails on my writing, how I’m not as nice as I should be, how I can improve my writing by using spell check more often, and probably the biggest suggestion that irks the shit out of me, that I should put my actual name on my blog.  Now for many bloggers it’s not a problem for them to use their actual name, but for someone who has gone through a twenty year relationship with a married man, yeah not so much.  There aren’t many people who know about what I’ve been through, and at least a couple of them have judged me and will always judge me for my “indiscretion.” I’m not ashamed of my relationship with a narcist, what I am ashamed of is not recognizing him as a narcist sooner.

My reason for my pen name if you will, is simple if these so-called “friends” that judge me on what I’ve been through, what are people who don’t know me going to be like?  Although I have found a very supportive group of bloggers that have not judged me (NOT A SINGLE ONE) for being in a relationship with a married man for twenty years.  My blog explains why it happened and how I got here.  I am blessed to have such great blogger friends and I am so grateful and truly blessed that to date, I haven’t gotten one negative or disparaging comment on my posts about Lestat.  But this friend of mine (who will read this I’m sure) keeps telling me that I should write about things that “matter.”  Well guess what? Bloggers write about what matters to them, we don’t write for the masses or because we’re looking for approval.

Her personal opinion about what or how I write doesn’t matter to me, that’s why I never respond to her email suggestions.  In fact I ran into her this weekend at Target and the first thing out of her mouth was “Did you get my email on your blog post about Weird Co-Workers?”   To which I responded “Yes I did, but I’m not taking suggestions, I’m not a radio station or a DJ.  It’s my blog and I can write what I want anyway I want.”  She stepped back and said “They’re just suggestions, you don’t have to get so defensive about it” I looked at her, studied her body language and then changed the subject asking about her husband.  She said he was doing fine and that they were soon planning a trip to Florida to visit his brother.  The conversation turned quickly again to my blog and I quickly thought to myself, do I need this person in my life? Is this person worth all the aggravation she causes me on a weekly basis? Does she not realize that we’re not close like BFF’s?  Should I cut cord here as well, and I quickly decided yes, I’m going to.  I let her tell me what else she thought I should change on my blog.

She referenced that by not putting my name on my blog I’m de-legitimizing my writing (whatever that means) she’s got two bachelor’s degrees, one in English Lit and the other in Business and for a long time she made me feel like I lacked education or writing skills.  She kept rambling on about how I should change the background on my blog because if I didn’t want anyone to know who I was I should take that picture of downtown El Paso off of it.

That was it, I was at the boiling point with her, but I let her finish her almost fifteen minute redundant exhortation about the things I should change on my blog.  She finished with “I’m just trying to help you be a better writer and person in general, that’s what friends are for after all, right?”  I sighed loudly as I leaned up against my shopping cart, as I saw she was about to get a second wind at her hypocritical diatribe.  I said to her “Friends aren’t to tell you when you’ve done something wrong, they don’t call you on each and every mistake you’ve made.  Friends don’t constantly try to make you feel less of a person and they certainly don’t point out flaws when they themselves lack character in their own personality.”  She looked kind of flushed because she knew I was referring to her.  She had had an affair about six years ago with her own brother in law (yeah sorry it’s going to go in here) and her mother in law caught the two in their own “indiscretion.”  So as prim and proper as she made herself out to be, she’s just as guilty of the things she accuses me of in her constant badgering emails, and I will tolerate a lot of things but hypocrisy isn’t one of them.

She stood back and her expression changed drastically, her perfectly made-up face was beginning to harden and her eyes began to widen as I continued “I know you consider yourself a friend of mine, but I have plenty of friends who don’t judge me on a daily basis.  I don’t need nor want your critiques on my writing or blog content.  If you want you should start a blog yourself and do everything you suggest I do.  But I’m going to say this as nice as possible, I’m going to block you from my email but I can’t block you from my blog since you don’t have a WordPress account.  But be warned I will include you in my blog because my “real” friends are loyal and compassionate and frankly I have three great BFF’s and you are not one of them.  So if you ever see me again, just walk the other way.”  She stepped back and said “Well,  you’re just rude if you ask me I would…..” I interrupted “That’s just it, I didn’t fucking ask you! I never have! And FYI that’s why you have no actual friends, everyone you know are only acquaintances because I don’t think you know how to be a real friend, to anyone.”

I was trying to keep my anger in check as people in the isle we were in were beginning to gather to watch the verbal showdown we were having among the Clorox and laundry detergent.  I finally heard Terri’s voice in my head saying “Remember when you meet someone who is trying to point “issues” they “think” you might have, they are the ones with the issues not you.”  All of this was going on in a matter of minutes but it seemed like hours, and I was done with this person.  Terri said that sometimes friends run their course in your life if they no longer contribute positively or encourage you, but only point out flaws and exude negativity, it’s time to cut them lose.  For once I didn’t stay and argue (imagine that?) I didn’t stand my ground because I already knew I was right after all it was about my blog, and I can write what I want on my fucking blog!  I looked at this person as she began to try and point out how unsophisticated I was for starting a fight in the detergent isle at Target.  I took my shopping cart and walked past her and almost made it to the end of the isle and thought, fuck it! I turned around and she was still looking at me and flipped her off, laughed and walked away.  Not the proudest moment of my life but it’s an improvement of challenging said “acquaintance” to a shiv fight in the parking lot in between the shopping cart corrals yelling “Come on bitch you hit like a girl! I’m going to rip those pearls off your neck and shove them so far up your ass not event the ER doctors will be able to find them!” until some random shopper called the cops on us, okay on me.


She once called my language “ghetto” in nature and I ignored her, but you now what? I am who I am and I don’t pretend to be perfect.  My language may be ghetto in nature, my writing may not be Pulitzer Prize winning, my life may be less than stellar (her words not mine, all in emails about my blog) but this is who I am.   This is me and if you don’t like it to fucking bad, I compromise nothing for anyone especially since dealing with an emotional sucking vampire like Lestat.  What you see is what you get and I may not be everyone’s cup of tea but that’s okay by me, I will not conform to fit anyone’s ideology.  I need to go sharpen my shiv now, I’ll be back!

This is the Huntress915, until next time.


Lets Talk About Weird Co-Workers…….Part II

In the office where I work we have a wide variety of personalities and that makes for interesting conversations, very interesting conversations.  For instance, we have “Jack the Knife” a woman who works in our compliance division who only shows up when there’s food, hence why we call her Jack the Knife (her name is Jackie).  She comes by knowing (miraculously) when food is around.  She then proceeds in piling her plate sky high with whatever freebies there are and then locks herself in her office never to be seen again until the next food-venture.  I walked by her office one day and saw piles of paper and ceramic plates with half eaten food all over her desk and credenza.  We, myself and the Lead Budget Analyst who works in our office get a kick out of the almost comical characters we deal with.  He’s probably the only normal person (aside from myself, I saw that stop it!) and we get along great.  He has a wicked sense of humor and always manages to make me laugh, so we kind of came up with different nicknames for some of the “colorful” people that work with us, Jack the Knife being one of many.

Other than Female Sheldon and Jack the Knife we have a director who is a nice lady, I should day girl because she’s younger than I am, but she has issues, and we’ve christened her “PigPen.”  She is a PhD and is a nice person to work with but there was something I couldn’t quite figure out about her and one day another coworker from another department gave me some insight about PigPen.  She said she use to work in this department but up on the third floor in the research lab.  She told me “whatever you do, do NOT stand close to PigPen” and of course being the person I am I asked her why?  She said PegPen adheres to the Halley Barry school of hair-care and doesn’t wash her hair but a couple of times a month.  My friend told me that PigPen has really curly hair and has to straighten it out, so another reason why she doesn’t wash her hair often.  Ewwww, just ewwww……

Which would explain why every time I was standing behind or even remotely close to her I could smell something close to wet dog or wet trash.  She’s part of the “No-Poo” movement not shampooing her hair on a regular basis because it stays healthier and is better for your scalp, it keeps the essential oils and all that bullshit.  This No-Poo movement is not something I would partake in because I wash my hair every day, and my hair doesn’t mess with me too much. I use what I have to, to keep it as clean and healthy as possible.  So now I steer clear of PigPen at every possible chance because I don’t think she realized that her habit of not washing her hair is causing a stink, literally and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.  The budget analyst (who I’m going to call JP) walked into the kitchen this morning and PigPen was in there heating up her breakfast and he walks up to me and says “Is the garbage disposal clogged up again, because it stinks” and I just shrugged my shoulders and left the kitchen.  That’s how bad is smells.  This woman is a director in our department, a PhD, she deals with people all day long smelling like wet dog.

I wonder how much she thinks everyone around her don’t notice how bad her hair really stinks?  I mean why would you put your coworkers through that?  It’s common sense that when you don’t wash something, that needs washing it’s going to stink eventually.

This is TheHunress915, over and out!


A Blog Post in Song and Movie Quotes

Last week was an interesting week at work, I found myself in different stressful and annoying situations which to me were comical (after the fact).  Some of them may or may have not induced weekend drinking, I’ll let you decide.

Monday: I put on what seemed like a nice outfit only to find that the dress I was wearing was translucent, really translucent and probs why it was in the back of my closet.  It was so translucent that I now have only white or black underpants.  It wasn’t until I got to work and Female Sheldon shouted (I MEAN FUCKING SHOUTED) “Oh my gawd! You can see your underwear!” My inner voice was like “I’m about to do to you what Limp Bizkit did to music in the late 90’s” (Deadpool, 2016).  It didn’t matter that my VP was conducting medical student interviews, nah it was totally okay. Because on Monday I chose to wear bright pink underpants….you make the connection, mortifying.  Running on Empty by Jackson Brown.

Tuesday: Dr. Raj Houston was still in town and as I hadn’t talked to him since walking away and calling him Felicia after he said I reminded him of his ex-wife. So it was an awkward moment when our VP was walking him around our office to introduce him to everyone (apparently their friends from med school).  Talk about awkward silence, then he stuck his hand out and my VP introduced him, I shook his hand and he looked at me.  Before anything was said my VP ushered him away to the next person.  I thought I had lost him for good when low and behold ten minutes later he makes his way back to my office.  He says “I didn’t get you information last week so we could go to dinner” and I look at him and said “Seriously? Why would you think I’d still want to out with you after what you said?” He looked confused, I just walked away.

“Sell crazy someplace else. We’re all stocked up here” (As Good As It Gets, 1997). Mama He’s Crazy by The Judds.

Wednesday: I had a training and was paired up with….you guessed it Female Sheldon.  “I’m here to cooperate with you a hundred percent. A hundred percent. I’ll be just right down the line with ya’. You watch” (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, 1975)

Fifty Shades of Crazy by Chase Rice.


Thursday: I found myself in HR, because I walked out on the training I had with Female Sheldon on Weds.  But in my defense I argued my case.

HR Rep: We need to know why you thought you didn’t need the mandatory training.

Me: I never said I didn’t need it, I left because I was aggravated.

HR Rep: Aggravated by whom? The person giving the training?

Me: No by the person I was assigned to take the training “with.”

HR Rep: Looking through her paper work and humming Hellagood by No Doubt, and then she say’s “Oh….I see.”  Well….

Me: Why am I in here? Why isn’t Female Sheldon here and why are you not asking her why she still, after all the HR talks, and trainings and warnings about her staying away from me is she STILL IN MY FACE?!?

HR Rep: She’s not like, in your face.

Me: Can we talk like we’re NOT in the movie Clueless?

HR Rep: What?

Me: Nothing.

HR Rep: We’ll talk to Female Sheldon again but if this, thing between the two of you doesn’t stop one of you is going to be written up.

Me: Are you serious, me written up!? (Okay yes that’s happened before but not at this job) I’ve been the one to steer clear of her all the time.  Beside I thought that our department and HR knew we shouldn’t be paired together for anything, or am I wrong?  I avoid her on purpose and yet she still doesn’t get why she needs to not be so loud, vulgar, yes vulgar and maybe you all need to test her for some sort of disorder.  A disorder that proves she needs help, and I’m not talking about help with her job I’m talking mental health.

HR Rep: That’s profiling.

Me: NO that’s a fact.

HR Rep: *sigh*

Me: That’s profiling.

When life gives you lemons, just say fuck the lemons and bail (Forgetting Sarah Marshall, 2008).   Everything about You by Ugly Joe Kid.


Friday: Everyone in my department was told to “volunteer” for an upcoming symposium our VP is having next week.  I pondered that for a while, if your told to volunteer then it isn’t volunteering right?  So I was “voluntold” and I have no say in this matter whatsoever.  I made it clear I definitely wanted Female Sheldon as far away from me as possible.

“I’m not crazy M’lyn I’ve just been in very bad mood for forty years” Ouisa, Steel Magnolias (1988.)  Psycho Killer by The Talking Heads.

This is TheHuntress915, over and out!


A Stranger’s Life Lesson…….Sorry not Sorry Mom!

Yesterday after work I had to go to Target to pick up a few things because it’s mid-week and thought I’d make my weekly Target or Walmart run to distract myself from my new rowing machine which is intent on killing me (I’m going to call my rowing machine Cilantro because I hate cilantro.). But I know I need to use it and I am, but I will not let cilantro defeat me!  In any case, I’m wandering around Target picking up Ziploc bags, hair color and a bag of pretzels I absolutely have to have.  Then I make my way to the makeup section where as I’m perusing through all the ageless, age defying, wrinkle preventing “magical” makeup I see an older woman standing there with her reading glasses on, white hair quaffed into a perfect (I mean perfect) bun, seemingly flawless make up and dressed impeccably.  So for me this seems a bit weird, as it’s 5:45pm and those of us that are at the Target this time of day are in shorts, yoga pants or in my case my go to jeans and my University of Michigan t-shirt (reminder, need a new Michigan t-shirt).

I walk past her and I can smell Channel No. 5 on her which to me is an overpowering scent. I remember my mom’s friend saying only “Rich white women wear to intimidate.” And what she meant by ‘intimidate” is that it stunk to high hell.  This scent is definitely only for people who really love it because I have to agree it’s a powerful smell.  Anyway as I passed her she turns to me and says “Hi darlin’ can you help me here?” and I turned and responded “of course how can I help?”

She held up a small vial of some miracle serum for anti-whatever and said to me “I can’t make out the small print, can you see it, what does it say?” She held up her hand, and I saw a beautiful pearl bracelet with a pink gem clasp.  Her nails were perfect and as I brought the small vial closer to my face I realized there is no way anyone could read that tiny print.  I had to let her know I needed to put my reading glasses on and she laughed and said “Well then it seems we’re both in trouble then” and I laughed right along with her.  During this entire encounter I never once looked straight at her face, it wasn’t on purpose I just didn’t.  Then I put my reading glasses on and began to read her the miniscule print on the back of this tiny bottle.  After which she said thank you and I finally turned to look straight at her, what caught my attention was that she had beautiful deep green eyes and some signs of Botox.  But that’s not what surprised me, her lipstick was bleeding into the small crevices around her lips, all of her lips.  She had a soft pink shade of lipstick and it was running into each small wrinkle of her lips which looked like pink paint running from a canvas into each individual wrinkle outside her mouth.  It was very, VERY obvious.

I stood there pondering if I should tell her or not, I mean I didn’t want to embarrass her or make her feel awkward.  But she talked to me like we’d been friends for the longest time, everything about this woman was perfect except her lipstick.  So I decided to tell her, and she said “Oh damn, I can’t find a good lipstick that doesn’t do that.  I’ve tried every, how do you young girls say, hacks and nothing works for me.”  My eyes widened at the comment made that she considered me a “young” girl, which made me laugh.  I told her that I was far from young and she looked at me as she took a tissue from her purse and wiped away all traces of her lip color.  She looked at me up and down, assessing my physical appearance.  She then said “Of course you are, you are what? About thirty-five?” as her hand moved the tissue back and forth on her lips.

I was flattered, and laughed and said “No, I’m about to turn fifty actually” as I looked into my basket to straighten a bottle of wine that had fallen over, wine to drown the impending fiftiness away.  She said to me that I didn’t look like I was about to turn fifty.  She must have sensed that I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of turning fifty so she said “You know, fifty is a good age to start an adventure, it’s also a great time to live your live according to your own rules.  Don’t look at turning fifty as a curse or something negative it should be the best time of your life.  Fifty now isn’t like fifty in the actual 1950’s, women look younger at fifty now then back then.  You don’t look forty-nine, and fifty is only months away and you won’t look it then either so stop worrying.”  I tried not to let the tears well up in my eyes because I wish my own mother would impart words of wisdom like this instead of telling me I should cut my hair short now that I’m going to officially be middle-aged.  My mother believes that women, all women over fifty should have short hair, and I mean like a ten year old boy type of haircut.  I mentioned to her my mom’s idea of women’s haircuts after fifty.

This beautiful lady stuck her hand out to shake mine and introduced herself as Monica.  And I introduced myself and she said “Oh, what a lovely name, I’ve always thought of Veronica as such a mysterious and glamorous vixen type of name.”  I told her my mom named me after Veronica Lodge from the Archie comics.  She laughed and put her hand on my shoulder and said “Well then you should take that and run with it.”  Then she said “I hope you have a very happy and wonderful fiftieth birthday this year.  Don’t let your moms antiquated idea of what fifty should be cloud what you want your fiftieth decade to turn out like.  You make it what you want it to be, follow your own rules, passions, interests but most of all it’s your life so live it the way YOU want to. You have beautiful hair, don’t cut it to appease someone else if you like the way you look.”  She told me her mother was a free spirit and believed in her children finding their own sense of self, not following others ideas.  She went on to tell me that she raised four children, worked as a secretary at a local school district and then when she retired she decided to work on herself.

She told me she started to walk, then run then began to lift weights to maintain her muscle mass, eat healthier and she admitted to Botox every so often.  She said at sixty she underwent a mini-facelift but she stopped there because she didn’t want to be one of those women that “looked” like their entire middle age was devoted to plastic surgery.   I smiled and then before she walked away I whispered “If you don’t mine me asking……..” but before I even finished what I was going to say she leaned in close and said “I’m 82” smiled, winked at me and walked away.  If I had to guess her age I would say she looked like she was in her early sixties.  As she walked away and I felt a bit better about my impending fiftieth birthday, I walked along the aisles of the Target with confidence in my step and like I rocked the go-to jeans I was wearing and not once did I care that I had no makeup on.

As I walked to the self-checkout I began to scan my items and I looked up once and that’s all it took for my self-confidence to deflate like an old party balloon.  The high definition cameras at the self-checkouts are horribly intense and make you, make anyone look like the worst version of your physical self.  Then after paying for my items I walked to my car thinking, I really do need a face lift after seeing myself in those stupid checkout cameras. As I get into my car I get a phone call from my mother.  She never asks how I’m doing, she only calls to complain about her, what or how she feels, what my dad’s done wrong or to tell me someone she knew died.  She asked me what I was doing and I told her that I was at Target buying shampoo and other stuff.  Then she begins her entire diatribe about why I should cut my hair and how she did when she turned fifty.

Then I thought to myself OH FUCK THIS SHIT and told her that she had cut her hair way before she turned fifty.  And then I told she needed to stop telling me to cut my hair and that I didn’t need to ask her permission to do anything in my life.  She yelled at me that I was ridiculous, that I wasn’t thirty anymore and that I was never going to find another husband at my age and I should just give in and take care of my parents.  My mother is a narcist, she’s always only cared about herself and it’s not easy growing up the daughter of a narcissistic mother.  I also believe she has Munchausen’s, making herself sick or acting sick purely for the attention, but that’s another story.  What I’ve learned from my therapist is that narcisst’s don’t like push back, and I’ve learned to push back and HARD.  Right there in the parking lot of the Target, I let loose on my self-serving mother and told her that I was never going to move in with my parents to take care of them.  That I was never going to give up what remained of my life to be their caretaker because they failed to financially plan for their old age (totally another story).  I’m not nice with my mother when she gets like this and this happens all the time.  I also told her that even if I didn’t find another husband I wasn’t going to put all my hopes and dreams on a man.  I can and have lived for twenty one years without a husband, then of course she threw my relationship with Lestat in my face.  I told her that I’m glad I saw him for who he was even though it took twenty years rather than stay married to someone like her for fifty only to realize that is was a mistake, of course throwing in it was my dad I was talking about.

I also pulled out the big guns, something Terri my therapist told me to say when it got this way with my mother.  Terri said that narcissistic mothers are jealous of their daughters especially when their daughters are accomplished in every aspect of their lives in spite of the down turns or hardships.  That’s when I told her that I had a life and didn’t need a husband to make it fulfilling, that I had educated myself, was independent financially and physically and in the process of buying a house on my own.  I said that I look good for forty-nine and she looked sixty at forty-nine, was overweight, controlling and miserable.

She stayed annoyingly quiet, all I could hear was her breathing into the phone and the anger she was feeling boil over.  Then the coup de gras, I told her that I will cut my hair the day I bury her ass six feet under! Her only defense? She hung up on me, that’s typical mom for you but I’ve lived with her and her narcissistic attitude for forty nine years.  My defenses have gotten good, almost emotionally deadly thanks to Terry the Wonder Therapist and I’m not sorry! Now in my mother’s defense (not often I say that shit) she was beautiful when she was young, well at least I thought so.

Mom Pic

This is mom (age 22) and her boyfriend who was in the Air Force, his name was Dave, obviously she didn’t wind up marrying him.  But kept their picture all these years for some reason.

Mom 18 Yrs

This is mom age 18

But as I grew up I had this distorted version of her in my mind but never really having an image to compare it to.  That is until the Disney movie The Little Mermaid came out, and low and behold Ursula became my mother, boy haircut and all.


So yesterday’s relaxing shopping trip was both encouraging and discouraging.  But my take away was/is that a strangers wise words meant more to me than the selfish words from my mother and that is what I’m going to hang onto.  I refuse to allow what my mother’s warped version of middle age to rule my thinking, life or self-image.  A beautiful stranger gave me some valuable pearls of wisdom and I will not be derailed into thinking that when I turn fifty my life is over, as my mother would have me believe.  So now I’ve decided to plan for myself a birthday party for the big 5-0, only the second birthday part of my entire life, and it’s gonna be a hellava party y’all! Even if it’s only me, Rocco and Jerry (neighbors dogs) Charlie my cat and some awesome bloody Mary’s!

This is me, two months ago…..

V. Anaya


Come on, Talk to Me Raj…… Oh wait Never mind.

Anyone who has ever seen the series The Big Bang Theory knows the story line of Rajesh Koothrappali and his inability to talk to women for the first couple of seasons of the show that is of course unless he’s consumed alcohol.  Why am I bring up this topic? Well, let me explain, before I began my blog I had this idea in my head that I could not possibly meet anyone “IRL” ever, and I do mean EVER again.  Online dating is as you know, was a torturous nightmare for me so I resolved to accept that meeting anyone face to face as they say was never going to happen.  Yet last week there was a research conference where I work, medical research to be exact and our vice-president strongly encouraged us to attend a session or two.  I’ve always found these types of conferences very interesting, yes I know I’m boring but it pertains to my job.

In any case we had a presenter from Houston, he is an older gentleman (when I say older that usually means about five to ten years older than I am) an endocrinologist from the greater Houston area and a faculty member at UT Houston.  We met during one of the breaks in between sessions at a social mixer.  I stood with another colleague as I managed to lose Female Sheldon in the crowd of people, but I could hear her “Oh my gawd, are you serious?” from across the entire lobby, like a squawking seagull.  Dr. Houston made his way to our table and introduced himself and we in turn did the same.  He kept asking me if we knew each other and I told him that I’d think I’d remember having a friend who was a doctor.  He laughed and my colleague might have sensed this magnetic attraction because she excused herself.  As she walked away gave me the cheesy thumbs up as if I had just managed to run into Jeffery Dean Morgan in the lobby.

But after she left Dr. Houston stopped talking, which made me think he might have wanted to talk to her and I should have been the one to walk away and do the cheesy thumbs up at her while grabbing an entire tray of appetizers and eat them alone in a dark corner as the research people walked by.  But that wasn’t the case, I suppose, because we stood there doing the awkward smile, laugh, clear you throat, smile, laugh dance until I asked him about himself.  So here is where Rajesh comes in, as part of my online dating nightmares the one thing that bothered the shit out of me was someone’s inability to hold a conversation.  I’m talking in person, on the phone, email or via text, this entire “let me ask you questions and you give me one word answers” shit get old, and it tires the fuck out of me.  So I kept asking Dr. Houston questions, I only got one word responses and not once did he even attempt to reciprocate and as the girl walking around with the tray of wine glasses (yes we had one day of this conference that had wine, it was held in the evening, it was the only day I went) I grabbed another full glass of wine.

As I did I caught him looking at me and I must have given him that “what are you looking at?” look.  He then cleared his throat and said “You’re really pretty” and said “thank you” and downed the glass of Chardonnay in one gulp.  This flattery was going to get him nowhere, okay it did as I proceeded to ask him about himself yet again.  He began to loosen up with each glass of wine (just like Raj) and began to talk more.  He said he had been divorced for eight years, had a son who was in the Navy and his youngest son who was still in college.  Everything seemed to be going great after that, our conversation began to have some depth, and interesting enough he told me he would be presenting next.  I said “Oh really? Well then I can’t wait to hear what your topic is going to be on.”

As he looked at me and I thought to myself, this man is good looking, smart and a doctor what else could I want? Yes okay I was jumping the gun, I knew that ten minutes before he couldn’t manage one single declarative sentence and now I saw matching SUV’s, vacations in the Bahamas and an Island wedding, so sue me I’ve been single for a long time. Okay that’s not true either but Lestat doesn’t count as a legitimate relationship here! In any case he asked me if I’d like to have dinner the next day, and I said “That sounds lovely” and he smiled.  It was either the wine or euphoria of being noticed after my Titanical relationship and online dating debacles, but for only a split second everything felt right with the world.  We heard a bell from inside the auditorium signal the end of the social mixer, as he drank the last of his wine, he turned to me and said “You know, I don’t know how you’re going to take this but…….you remind me and kind of look like my ex-wife.”

All at once I had flashbacks of the rental truck and the fence, and in my head my inside voice was like, leave now just walk away before you say anything stupid.

I stood there staring at him as if trying to make sense of what just came out of his mouth and then I said the cheesiest thing I’d ever said in my life (it might have been the wine)…“Houston, we have a problem……bye FELICIA!” (it was definitely the wine) and walked away out the side door back to my office to retrieve my purse trying to balance myself on my high heels and doing my damndest to look sophisticated (okay I burped out loud).


I had one and a half glasses of wine that evening but the weight of what Dr. Houston said brought me back to being stone cold sober.  I got my purse and keys to my car and drove home saying to myself out loud “I don’t know how you’re going to take this?! You remind me of my ex-wife?! I remind him of his fucking ex-wife?!?!….Ugh!”  Dr. Raj Houston couldn’t hold a conversation until he’d had a couple of drinks in him and then he managed to say what is probably one of the worst things you can say to a woman, any women especially one you just met, that you remind them of their ex-wife! The constant comedic escapades that are my life never stop.

Until next time, this is the Huntress915 over and out!


Imitation Isn’t Always the Sincerest Form of Flattery. (My first Serious or Semi-Serious Post)

A couple of weeks ago I was at home in the middle of my Friday night routine of making dinner, and watching my usual Friday night lineup of the Cool Kids on Fox followed by either 20/20 or Dateline.  That Friday night I chose 20/20 and that particular episode was titled “The Dropout.”  This episode documented the rise and fall of Elizabeth Holmes the 35 year old entrepreneur and creator of Theranos, a company she claimed would be able to run over 200 blood tests on a single, teeny tiny drop of blood.


This is Theranos “Nanotainer”

Holmes claimed that the small amount of blood collected would then be put into a machine she called The Edison (another fraud if you ask me, we all know that Tesla was way better at his inventions and wasn’t a raging egotist) that would run over 200 blood tests. My question is, where is the FDA in all of this?

The Edison

This “machine” supposedly would run a series of blood tests on that small amount of blood in under 4 hours.

Too good to be true? Yes, yes it was and not only did she deceive many of her multi-million dollar investors she also keeps up the falsity of her persona, which according to 20/20 she modeled after Steve Jobs.  She even dropped out of Stanford at the age of nineteen, it seems she took this Steve Jobs imitation just a bit too far. Did she really think she’d be successful if she dropped out of college like Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg and others? For a while maybe, but then everything went pear shaped.

She also began to dress like Jobs, in black turtlenecks and black two piece suits (creepy? Abso-fucking-lutely) never falling out of character in front of her employees, board members or the press.  What struck me the most odd is that in spite of her emulating Steve Jobs, which for a woman is just plain icky weird, was that she faked her deep baritone voice, that’s right if that doesn’t say psychopath what does?

Homes PT Barnum

If you have to actively change your voice in order for people to take you seriously, then there are bigger issues at play here than pretending to be something you’re not.  How do people know she’s not a baritone? One of her former employees that was interviewed in the 20/20 episode said that during a Christmas party a few years back, she had one too many cocktails and fell out of character and spoke in her “normal” voice.  Which according to this former employee was high pitched and more feminine. There are even a couple of YouTube videos of her speaking in her “real” voice.  Which was also corroborated by a former professor of hers from Stanford, saying that when she was in college, she didn’t talk that way.

The definition of a psychopath is someone that has superficial charm, inflated sense of self-worth, pathologically lies, lacks remorse or guilt, shallow emotions, conning others and being manipulative.  Now Elizabeth Holmes’ has a lot of these traits and behaviors because she seemed to just seemed drink in the attention of being the darling of Silicon Valley. Giving interviews about her company and her invention, which was still not working the way she claimed, and speaking in that deep fake voice of hers.  What she thought she’d gain from faking her voice or dressing like Steve Jobs one will never know, but the in-authenticity of it all just makes you wonder why someone would go through all that trouble to be someone or something they’re not?  The Silicon Valley mantra of “fake it until you make it” seems to be taken to heart by Holmes in every aspect of her identity.  But I suppose that’s what a psychopath does, they pretend to be something they’re not.   Holmes has shown no remorse over the fraud she committed and still insists that her product works despite her former lab staff and software engineers saying it’s never did.

According to many of her former employees there is no way for over 200 blood tests to can be done on such a small amount of blood.  A reporter for the Wall Street Journal named John Carreyrou launched an investigation into Theranos and Holmes claims about her product.  He questioned employees of hers wanting to know about how Holmes’ “super invention” worked.  And no one could explain how it worked, all they could do is tell him how it didn’t work, you can read his original WSJ article here.  Even being indicted on Federal charges, nine counts of wire fraud to be exact, she is still (STILL) using her fake baritone voice.  But why? I suppose she’s so delusional that she thinks people will still take her seriously even though her world is crumbling down around her if she still “pretends” to be successful.  She just might be delusional enough to think her faded glory might come back and shine a light on her once again, not likely.

Her ability to convince people of her accomplishments was astounding, she was even invited to speak at a commencement ceremony at Pepperdine University.  Not having graduated herself she spoke in front of a graduating class, spewing her “knowledge” and “experience” to a group of students who accomplished what she couldn’t, get their degrees.  The act never stops, but maybe the Federal Government might force her to give up her false sense of inflated ego.

Maybe dropping out of Stanford was something Elizabeth Holmes shouldn’t have done, and yet somehow she was invited back to her alma mater (is it though if you never graduated?) to speak to a chemical engineering class after she started her fake company Theranos.  In the 20/20 episode she says “At this point I didn’t think that a couple more classes in chemical engineering were going to help with what I wanted to do.”

YES! I definitely think it would have helped since what she was doing involved micro and nano fluidics and had she graduated maybe her “invention” and her company would have been successful.  Instead she created a culture at her company of lying,  hiding from her employees how her product had failed, touted her successful company that even Walgreen’s bought into it and fired everyone that questioned her claims of how her product was being used in Medivac helicopters and emergency rooms, which they weren’t she was lying yet again.  If she had finished college maybe she wouldn’t have put peoples lives in danger with her false advertising and selfish personality.  But then again a psychopath has no sense of remorse so maybe if she had graduated from Stanford she might have killed someone with her invention.

In the words of a famous Warner Bros star (Bugs Bunny) what a Maroon! Elizabeth Holmes is not Steve Jobs, not even close, in fact I think Jobs himself would be spinning in his grave at this cheap wannabe knockoff.  So in this case imitation is definitely not the sincerest form of flattery.  It’s like a counterfeit designer handbag, they are thousands out there and easy to buy but if you try and pass it of as real, once someone’s found out about it, they will never let you forget it.


Lets Talk About…..Weird Co-Workers

Sometimes we’re blessed with great jobs and those jobs come with coworkers that might or might not be perfect.  I have been fortunate enough to have found a job that not only is what I’d been studying for in Grad School but where the office environment is definitely not toxic.  Because I have been there, toxic office, toxic people toxic reverberations of emotional distress and anger.  I once worked in a grant office with a female director who refused to email anyone any instructions because she didn’t want any of her employees coming back and referring to her emails.  This was because she was almost always wrong about a lot of things, ALWAYS.

And let me tell you this bitch needed her emails referenced, let me share how she’d “direct” things to her staff.  I worked there as the business manager and I was in charge of the inventory as well as grant cost sharing with local school districts.  She would leave sticky notes on my computer screen with instructions and/or things she needed me to do.  So I would come in the next morning and literally have my computer screen covered in multicolored sticky notes in her handwriting.  I thought to myself, does she really think I can’t reference this?  What did I do?  I put those sticky notes on a sheet of paper and I would scan it, then I’d email it to her and tell her “As per the sticky note you left on my computer on July 14, 2014, you are asking me to retrieve signatures on the cost sharing forms from Mr. XXXXX, is that correct?”

She’d come to my office in a hissy and tell me not to scan and email her “notes” back to her, and I would tell her that I was going to continue doing it until she decided what form of communication was appropriate to use.  Did I mention she was fifty-eight years old and liked to wear leather pants and leopard print tops to work? Talk about trying to relive one’s youth.  In any case dealing with weird coworkers can be somewhat trying.  Right now I have a coworker that I’m going to refer to as the female Sheldon.  She is extremely inappropriate when she speaks and when she speaks she freaking YELLS.  Her office is on the other side of the building, and I can still hear her talking on the phone.  Also, she knows nothing of personal space but yet she doesn’t like to be touched (are you listening Maggie?) and no matter how many times you tell her to back the fuck up, she just looks at you with those dead shark eyes of hers.

Shark Eyes Cartoon

Yes, she has dead shark eyes and because of this one can’t tell if she understands what you are telling her.  I’ve gotten so frustrated with her that sometimes when she invades my personal space I walk closer to her and begin to touch her with my index finger, just poking her over and over near her shoulder until she backs away.  Of course this causes her to start yelling “Oh God, don’t touch me!”  And then I yell back “Then back the fuck up and get out of my face!” And for those of you wondering yes, we have been called into HR for this because it is a constant thing.  Now Female Sheldon has issues, a lot of them but she’s a good research administrator so she knows her shit.  But then again so do I, and since we both started in our department around the same time we’ve been working together longer than anyone else here with the exception of our bosses.

Female Sheldon is also (dare I say it?) a vegetarian.  So whenever we have potlucks or birthday lunches it’s always a fucking clusterfuck decision about who is going to bring something “veggie” for Female Sheldon.  Sometimes I just want to tackle her in the kitchen and literally force feed her ass a goddamned meatball! In any case it occurred to me that Female Sheldon might actually have Asperger’s or something to that effect.  Because when we’re in staff meetings everyone expresses themselves in a positive or negative way on topics of discussion. But Female Sheldon sits there with her dead shark eyes and stares straight ahead.  When someone asks her a questions she responds in a robotic voice.  But then you hear her on the phone and she’s all “Oh my gawd, really? Oh my gawd I can’t believe it. Oh my gawd what do you mean the submission date changed? Oh my gawd!”  That’s all I hear her say is “Oh My Gawd” I can almost see her, sitting at her desk staring straight at the wall with those dead shark eyes, stone faced and the only thing moving are her thin, annoying lips.

And what’s worse is that Female Sheldon comes to my desk to ask me what I’m up to and then I tell her and she just stands there, staring at me.  Once I snapped my fingers at her and she yelled “Oh my gawd, why’d you do that for? It’s so loud, I’m right here!” And I replied with “I know, I’m busy go back to your office and let me work” but did she leave? No she fucking didn’t like she didn’t understand one word of what I had said.  So I got up to go to the vending machines in the hallway.  As I’m standing there mulling over my purchase, I feel breath on the back of my neck and there she is, fucking female Sheldon INVADING MY PESONAL SPACE AGAIN! At this point I really wanted to punch her so hard, I had never wanted to watch anyone bleed so bad in my life.  Okay I have, my ex-husband, his mother, Lestat, his wife…..but you get what I’m saying right?

I’ve brought this to my supervisor’s attention as I’m not the only one that she does this too and they called her in to “talk” to her. I doubt she understood anything because we all know Female Sheldon Dead Shark eyes don’t understand a damned thing!  She finally started to keep her distance, then one day while we were celebrating birthdays in the conference room, Female Sheldon was standing outside of the conference room (our conference room is all glass walls/windows) and our director was asking “Why is Female Sheldon standing on the outside in the hallway?”  I turned to look and there was Female Sheldon, on the outside of the conference room holding her cup of coffee staring at everyone with her dead shark eyes and no expression on her face.  I tapped on the window and asked her “What are you doing? Come in and get some cake” and she said she was told to stay away from me, her voice muffled by the thick glass between us.

I had just taken a sip of my coffee and I totally lost it, I couldn’t contain my laughter I mean I was dying, buckling over in pain laughing.  I could not for the life of me contain the laughter, the type of hilarity that doesn’t even allow you to speak.  Not to mention that I had spit out my coffee because of her response.  Then a couple of other people started to laugh and then our director went out to the hallway to tell her that’s not what what she meant by staying away with me.  So this is what has lead me to believe that Female Sheldon, this 31 year old female who surprisingly has a husband (makes me wonder, she’s married but I can’t even find a date online, I mean hello what is wrong with this picture?) might actually have some antisocial disorder.  Hence why I call her Female Sheldon, she takes things literally like being told she had to stay away from me, and standing outside the conference room walls while we celebrated our department’s staff birthdays.

This is only one in a long string of weird co-workers I have had the unfortunate opportunity to work with.  Unfortunate because although she is smart, she continually says inappropriate things all the damned time.  Like when I got my Master’s degree, she said “Oh you finished already? Wow your program must have not been hard because I’m still not done.” I’m like what the fuck? So I just calmly responded with “Maybe it’s not so much that my program wasn’t hard, maybe it’s that you’re just too dumb to finish yours” okay that was below the belt but really what kind of comment was that about my graduate program? She had no expression, as mentioned before just sat there with those dead shark eyes.  My other coworker said to her “Sheldon, that wasn’t very nice.  Everyone works hard for their education” and she just sat there staring at my other coworker.  So, I work with a female version of Sheldon Cooper and although he is a fictional character, the character I work with makes me think on a weekly basis “This bitch is the reason I’m going to go to jail.”  Picture it, a random university parking lot, and campus police cars with their lights flashing and two officers walking me to a city police cruiser in handcuffs for assault.  Female Sheldon being brought on a stretcher towards an ambulance with a pencil in her neck, bandaged and an EMT applying pressure to the bleeding, blood all over her clothes and her starting straight up into nothingness with dead shark eyes screaming “Oh my Gawd, I didn’t turn off my computer!!”

Until next time, this is the Huntress915 over and out!


My Blind Date with Keanu Reeves

Ah-ha!! I got your attention didn’t I? Okay well that’s just a fantasy of mine but let’s move onto the real topic of today’s post shall we? Recently I’ve read certain blog posts and have seen some Youtube videos about how horrible online dating is.  So let’s be honest here, online dating is a nightmare but only for certain people, myself included.  Also some fellow bloggers as well, check out my girl Rakkelle’s blog here for her story on online dating.  I think for the most part, I’m in the majority for online dating disasters as there seems to be a lot of us, both men and women that online dating is a horrific experience.  For those of you who’ve read my blog you know about fake US Marshal Rick, Oompa Loompa David and Rude Sergio all of these online dates were absolutely horrible.  Not one of these guys changed my mind about stereotypes of online dating, and those that had the potential to do so, weren’t interested in me.  Now before I start getting emails about how not all men are bad and those a just a few cases….blah, blah, blah.  I have to say that maybe it’s me, maybe I intimidate more than allow these online dates to reveal their true selves.  I’ve been told I intimidate but I’m going to take that as a compliment, but onward we go.

*Disclaimer, this post is purely based on MY online dating experience and not meant to deter anyone from trying online dating or diminish their experience whatsoever*

All of the men I connected with, including rude Sergio saw actual pictures of me, recent pictures of me.  Then Rude Sergio told me he thought I’d be younger when we met in person (just for the record I hope that asshole catches crabs).  But it’s not uncommon for both men and women to lie on their online dating profiles, hell it’s expected because of what societal standards are in this age of beauty, education and financial status.  The thing is, this type of lying will always and I do mean always have a bad outcome.  I mean look at Ooompa Loompa David, his profile said he was 5’9 and the dude only came up to my shoulders and I’m 5’4!   Expectations of what we are looking for in an online date will diminish the value of the person you might be overlooking in favor for some unrealistic image we have in our mind.  One of my friends said to me that women have this Prince Charming (remember him?) image in our minds and men have this porn start image of women in theirs, thinking this is what we want and what we’ll find if we date and look hard enough.

People will lie if they think the person their lying too is hearing what they want to hear.  The truth is online dating is successful for people under the age of forty-five, now this is only my opinion based on my research (the disastrous dates I’ve had).  Online dating is hard, it’s full of unscrupulous people who will lie to you for their own personal reasons.  As a forty-five year old (at the time) I found it extremely difficult to find someone genuine, and when I did they weren’t interested in me.  So what does that say? It says that women with less self-esteem or no confidence will lie, and they will over exaggerate themselves, their accomplishments and their lives in general.  A former coworker of mine was so clingy with men, any man that came into her life she literally drove them away.

She would sit in my office and cry and ask me “what’s wrong with me, is it because I have six kids or what?” and of course being the straight shooter I am, I would tell her that maybe it was intimidating to date someone with so many children (they were already grown) and they may see her as a gold digger or wanting a replacement dad for her kids.  Then she’d cry some more and I’d think to myself what the fuck, go cry at your desk I don’t have time for this shit (yes I really did think that, but hey I had my own problems).  She would tell me about her online dates and how well they went (she’s eight years older than I am) and she made the mistake of telling me she only wanted to date wealthy older men who would take her out to expensive dinners and buy her clothes because she’s never had that.  I told her straight out, if that’s what you’re looking for you’re not going to find it, they will see through your fake persona and drop you like a G-string in a strip club.  She showed me her profile and she had put on there that she had her bachelor’s in accounting.  I told her I knew damned well she hadn’t even gone to college, and asked her “Don’t you think this will come up? Or when they hear you talk they’ll know you didn’t go to college?” Okay again before I get nasty messages about peeps that didn’t go to college and things like that this is purely based on this particular person.

Let me just say she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, she couldn’t say pneumonia that’s right, she would try to pronounce it like it’s spelled but then it would sound like pa-no-mia.  Once when she was out sick and came back she kept saying she had panomia, to everyone and no one would correct her, then I asked her “What did you have?” and she said she caught panomia, and I asked her what that was and she rolled her eyes (like I was the dumb one) and said “You know, PA-NO-MIA, like a cold only worse, duh?” That pissed me off so I decided to cut her off at the knees in front of our director and I laughed and said out loud “You mean you had pneumonia? If you’re going to tell everyone your sick you’d better learn how to pronounce your illness” and I walked back into my office.  She turned red and then got an IM via my computer telling me I didn’t have to do that and embarrass her in front of people.  That’s when I told her same here, don’t act smart if you aren’t, then a fight ensued and well……I’m getting off topic here.  So my assessment of her is no reflection on those that didn’t attend college, this is only from personal experience with this particular person.

So this person lied on her online dating profile and she got plenty of dates but no follow ups because once you meet someone and talk to them that’s when you realize that you were duped.  It doesn’t feel too good when you’re duped like that because I’ve been the “dupee” more times than I care to remember.  Then there were those dates that I believed had some potential only to find I wasn’t what these men were looking for.  Like Rude Sergio, who wanted a thirty-something knowing full well how old I was, I didn’t lie or misrepresent myself.  I didn’t photo shop my pictures, I didn’t lie about my age or my accomplishments.  And even though we had talked for a while before we met, those conversations led me to believe that he was okay with who I was, that he was genuinely interested in me as a person, not any type of arm candy or trophy girlfriend.

And I can totally pull that off too, because even though now I’m forty-nine (and in spite of a much needed chemical peel, but that’s another story) I am by no means one of the ugly step-sisters.  In my opinion I’m attractive enough to have some of these online dates take a second look (well that’s what I was told by Kyle and Lestat) but what can I say?  Men my age want women ten years younger and because men my age are usually divorced and financially stable, they get actually women ten years younger.   Women my age want men a bit older (well I do) established, well adjusted, secure in their own person and financially stable (I didn’t say dripping in money) but has a job so I don’t have to support him, and I’m sure this goes for men too.  Not all my bad dates have been a result from online mediums.  I was once introduced by a former friend to her brother, an older man who was retired and seemed to be a nice guy when I first met him.

So this “friend” of mine thought it would be a good idea to introduce me to one of her brothers (the one that was divorced, and I’ll explain why later) because he hadn’t dated for a while and neither had I.  After some convincing I agreed to meet her brother Gilbert (I’m using his real name because the chances of him or his sister finding my blog are slim to none).  After our initial meeting I thought to myself, okay this guy is decent, not bad looking he’s nice and seems sane.  So we had two dates and then his older brother invited us out to a restaurant called The Pershing Inn, they were having a Beatles cover band that night so I thought to myself, why not?

The night started out okay, the band was on fire, I was having a good time and then I noticed Gilbert was drinking and I mean a lot, I had picked him up (at his request) and by the end of the night he was plastered.  I drove him home in spite of having a couple of drinks myself, but I wasn’t by any means fall down drunk.  Although I knew I should be driving with even a couple of drinks what choice did I have at this point? Luckily his brother’s house was only six blocks from the bar.  His brother and sister-in-law were already at their house when we got there.  They had stopped by to get some food and invited me to eat with them and even to stay the night if I didn’t want to drive home.  I lived about twenty miles or so from where they lived and although the gesture was a kind one, what transpired after we got to their house made me want to leave and never return.

As we sat and ate our food then Gilbert and his older brother began to argue, and his brother wasn’t even drunk.  But their bickering went on and on and his sister-in-law apologized to me and said they are always like this when Gilbert drinks.  As I helped her clean up, we walked into the kitchen and left the brothers to continue their argument alone.  I asked her why they get like this and she said “Gilbert didn’t tell you that he was in jail did he?” My inside voice was like “No he fucking didn’t tell me he was in jail and neither did his stupid sister!”  She went on to explain that he shouldn’t be drinking because he’s an alcoholic, and that’s the reason he was in jail, he got caught with too many DUI’s and jail and a divorce were the result.  Then I heard shouting from another room “Why would you think a smart, attractive girl like her would want to have an out of work lush who lives with his son for a boyfriend?!? I have to lend you money to take her out!”  Then Gilbert responded with “Because she likes me asshole and I can help her around the house and shit!”  Lend him money? Help around the house?

What the literal FUCK is this guy talking about?  It turns out he was retired (lost his job because of the DUI jail sentence) from Coca-Cola and his pension/retirement wasn’t enough for him to live on by himself hence why he lived with his oldest son (Holy Broke Asshole Batman!).  He lived in Houston and was looking to move back to El Paso to be with his family so I was the “catch” he needed to be able to do just that.  His sister-in-law began to look embarrassed and I looked at her and she said “Tina should have told you about him before you decided to go out with him, I’m so sorry, really I am.  After we met you we knew it was too good to be true, that once you would see the real him you’d…….”  I didn’t let her finish and I told her I had to leave.  She said she understood and during his argument with his brother, I got the keys to my car and got the hell outta Dodge as fast as my Ford Fusion could get me.  But the damage had been done, he had my phone number, and knew where I lived and for three weeks after that he did nothing but bother the shit out of me.  Calling, coming by my house he even showed up to my office! This was because the last time he went by my house all three of my over five-foot nine inch tall boys were there and all three told him to leave in a not so nice way (boy am I glad I gave birth to three huge body guards).  This was even after I didn’t want to see or talk to him.

But did he get the hint? No he fucking didn’t so what did I do? I called in a favor from one of my friends who is Texas State Trooper and what was said or done I’ll never know all I got was a “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it” from my friend Joe.  After that all I know is that Gilbert the Lush didn’t bother me anymore.  But I still get drunk voicemails from him from time to time even though I blocked him, his daughters and his stupid sister’s phone numbers.  He still leaves me messages, like he’ll think I might change my mind about him, I don’t fucking think so!

So it’s not just online dating that can have disastrous outcomes, real life meeting people the “normal” way can too.  Needless to say I no longer talk to his sister because she should have been honest.  So honesty is definitely important whether your dating the “old fashion way” or online.  So what’s my conclusion? That online dating for me has been more than disappointing because of false advertising and the devious people I’ve met.  I’ve given up dating through this particular medium and my chances of meeting anyone the “old fashion” way are diminishing because of online dating, no one meets organically anymore.  I’m too old to bar hop or go out clubbing, besides what are the types of people one can meet at a bar or club?  So if it happens it happens, and if it doesn’t well then, ce la vie.  Even though I don’t have a “significant other” at the moment, I’m happy and I’m not just saying that to sound, look or pretend that I am, I truly am.  I found the following on one of my friends desk (another single mom) and I read it and thought, wow, that is the absolute truth.  Even though I was already married in high school, the rest resonates with me so I decided to share.

Relashionship Status of Single Women

But let me just add this, on Friday I got asked out by an “older” medical student (he’s 37, usually med students are in their early to mid-twenties.  He was in the Navy before he decided to go to Med School) and although I was flattered, he just began his residency and the chances of a healthy relationship coming out of this are not good, residency is hard for any new medical student but it’s harder on a couple when one of them is a resident.  Also, it proves I still got it, chemical peel or not! *flips hair and fist pumps air like John Bender at the end of the Breakfast Club*


I’m looking for something long term, I am no longer dating for fun.  Did I mention he’s a Psychiatry resident? No? Huh, I wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something……Keanu Reeves where are you?!

This is the Huntress915, over and out.


Don’t Judge Me Until You’ve Walked Ten Thousand Steps In My Stilettos

A while back I had yet another Bridget Jones moment and unfortunately it was in front of a large group of students who were loitering about in the hallway in front of my office.  I had to navigate through this sea of students to get to the ladies room, when I left I had to do the same.  But this time I was walking down the hallway towards my office with my navy blue Ralph Lauren dress tucked into my pantyhose.  Yes, that’s right I walked a good ten feet in this state until I walked past the receptionist and she saw me and thankfully she yell at me saying “Oh God!! Stop!!! You have to fix your dress!!!!”

I quickly turned around and she ushered me into the back of her desk area, which was conveniently out of sight of what seemed like the Spartan 300 group of students all standing there.  And this wasn’t even the most humiliating part of all this (imagine that?).  As I walked back towards my office, I had to pass three girls all primped and primed in business suits and I overheard one say to the others “Who wears pantyhose nowadays anyway?”

I knew that what I did next was wrong, but I felt the need to do it because let’s face it, we have all be in our twenties thinking to ourselves we’re never going to get old.  So I thought I’d “educate” this young, fresh millennial as to why women like me still wear pantyhose.  I turned around and casually said “Well dear” I said sternly “I still wear pantyhose like many other women do because we can’t pull off going without.  I don’t have the great knockout legs I had in my twenties like you all have, and you won’t either when you get to be my age.  Which by the way isn’t even past fifty yet, so while you are running around wearing your short skirts and tanning your legs remember, as you get older things sag and wrinkle, then veins will appear in places you never thought they would.  And one day you will begin to wear hose to hide the imperfections of nature’s cruel joke called aging.  I also hope that when your forty-nine years old you will run into a smug little girl who makes an insensitive comment in front of you and you will remember what I just told you. I am your future ladies live and learn!”

I turned and walked back into my office and the receptionist held out her hand in a hi-five gesture as I walked by, I slapped her hand and went back to work.  I hate that even now, at forty-nine I feel like I get bullied for things that seem normal to me, like something as simple as wearing pantyhose.  I have always thought of myself as fashion conscience, and believed that I have gotten better as I’ve gotten older.  Like a fine wine, wiser and now have the money to buy the types of clothes I like to wear.  I am old school in certain things and as Dolly Parton said in the film Steel Magnolias, “I haven’t left the house without Lycra on these thighs since I was fourteen” because even when I was young, hose to me were classy and sophisticated.  It’s not for everyone I have to admit.  But I don’t think I need to explain why I chose to wear them.

Out of my embarrassment came a certain sense of self, and even though I might have been wrong to say what I said to that twenty-something year old, inexperienced, self-serving, entitled student, I had to say it because I refuse to feel ashamed of who I am, how I look or what I do to anyone. PERIOD.


Part 26…………Your so Vain You Probably Think This Blog Is About You, The End of Lestat.

“You’ve been wearing that crown and tearing me down, It’s been a while since you’ve treated me right, You strung me along for far too long ’cause I never gave up the fight, until now” – The Band Perry, Done.

I had no tears to shed or emotions to feel, I was narcotized by everything that happened.  I felt so stupid for everything I allowed this asshole of a man to do to me over the course of twenty motherfucking years.  I also felt used, betrayed and despite of all of these emotions I still felt nothing.  Like a blank piece of paper with nothing to remotely explain why I was in such a state.  Terri began to ask me how I felt and I told her all of it, she stared at me and said “Let it go, if you want to cry, cry don’t keep it in.”  I looked up at her and said “I can’t, there’s nothing there to let go of.  I think I pretty much did that the day of the rental truck incident and the day at the Denny’s parking lot, I feel nothing.”

She sighed (again don’t know if it’s out of habit or what?) and said “Have you accepted that love is no longer a factor here.  But as an addict there will be side effects once you do begin to feel.” “Side effects, what side effects?” I said as I stared at her with confusion, I mean I’m not a chemical dependent like a drug addict.  She began to explain saying that my side effects would be emotional.  She sat back in her pink chair and said “Addicts go through withdrawals, and you will too eventually.  Not chemically like a heroin addict but emotionally.  You will start to miss the bad relationship, you will miss his presence and you will miss those crumbs of time you said he gave you.  It’s inevitable, you will start to go through this and you need to be prepared.”  I hadn’t thought about relationship withdrawals and what the fuck are those like?  Since I’ve never used drugs all I can explain how I might feel is I’ll have the equivalent to a hangover, or trying to quit eating chocolate croissants.  Yes that’s it, a relationship hangover, and I thought I’d be prepared for that.

The first month or so of my last and final separation from Lestat was pretty easy, it went by smoothly and I hardly thought of him at all which made me proud of myself.  Then it hit, the stupid relationship addict withdrawals, the cold shakes, the sweats (emotionally) the needing a fix.  And by fix I mean driving to work and scanning oncoming traffic for a sign, any sign of his truck.  Going to the mall and scanning the crowd for his face.  Looking through his kids social media and wanting to see any recent pictures of him.  But I knew that, “that” particular fix would end in emotional cutting.  Seeing pictures of him with his idiot wife Fiona and his horse faced Stepford children would only send me spiraling down into an all-day pajama, messy hair bun wearing, chocolate croissant eating, laying on the couch, mushy chick flick watching, journal writing depression.  I mean there are only so many times your eldest son can say “in your robe all day again ma?” before you throw a Tupperware full of cold moldy cheese tortellini at him and then say “Sorry I thought I was aiming for the trash can.”

The fact that I was aware of this, I knew I had to do something to prevent it from happening.  Although I’d slip back into this kind of behavior every so often without even realizing it.  Driving to and from work for instance, I mean I could take a different route that didn’t take me past one of his businesses.  But it would take me almost fifteen minutes longer to get to work.  Yeah that’s the excuse I used for a long time.  I told Terri what was happening and she said that I had to fill my time with positive things to do, workout, clean, a book club, go out with friends, clean my back yard and plant that herb garden I’d been talking about.  Anything that would fill my time, the time I use to spend with Lestat and catering to his every need.  I told her I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to do it, I felt as if this is the one thing I was going to fail at, I mean other than failing at the Titanic of all relationships.  Holding onto that big wooden door of dysfunction like Kate Winslet cold, wet and emotionally frozen, watching Leo DeCaprio sink into the abyss of the icy, wet darkness (okay I know, you get the point).


So what did my brilliant therapist do?  She gave me charm for my Pandora bracelet in the shape of small silver wings.  She said that every time I accomplish another month of relationship sobriety I would get another charm.  I mean am I being bribed, or am I actually accomplishing this sobriety thing? It took a while for me to actually, actively stop doing a lot of those annoying things like looking for him in traffic, emotional cutting myself by looking at his kids social media, passing by his favorite bar only to see his Corvette parked outside knowing full well he was only there to pick up whatever barfly he could to get laid because I knew damned well he wasn’t getting laid at home.  I had to keep remembering I wasn’t in love with him, I was an addict and it was hard but eventually I stopped, then all I was left with was the vacuum of solace.  The deafening silent, solitary life I was forced to live due to a very bad man and his selfish, emotionally draining tendencies.

It’s been almost seven months into my Emotional Vampire sobriety and sometimes I still struggle with blank spaces of time, with chocolate croissant eating, chick flick watching days but not nearly as often.  Now I have to find a way to keep busy so that the addict in me won’t fall off the relationship rehab wagon, because I know now all I miss is the misery.  I know I’m not in love with him anymore because I don’t worry about him, his health, his well being, his businesses I don’t care.  This was something I realized when Terri asked me if I remembered the last time I talked about his illnesses.  I told her I didn’t, and then without thinking I said “And I don’t fucking care, that’s what his wife is for” and she smiled at me and said “Now you are over him, when you don’t care about him in any aspect.  This is progress.”

I was so use to misery I have no idea what a good healthy relationship is and that alone is a struggle.  I wonder if I ever find myself in another relationship, will I, can I handle that? But right now I’m not looking I need time to heal.  Terri said I needed to find my bliss and gave me a copy of Joseph Campbell’s book Pathways to Bliss.  I’ve read it more than once in order to keep my focus, finding that bliss that only comes with loving yourself.  Accepting who you are and all the awesome abilities one has, like realizing that there was nothing and I do mean nothing Lestat could give me that I couldn’t get for myself.

Now THAT is power, finding out you have the capacity to do and get what you want without having to rely on anyone else even if that someone else was the person you thought you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.  It’s coming to terms with all that shit, and that’s hard, it takes time and ultimately acceptance of the result.  As well as accepting that my actions had a lot to do with how Lestat behaved and treated me.  It also made me see Lestat not as a thirty-six year old, tall dark and handsome, 6’1 cowboy.  I now saw a middle aged fifty-five year old man, very overweight, thinning hair, double chin and same old plaid shirt, Wrangler, roper wearing man, standing in the Denny’s parking lot grasping for his youth and whatever power he thought he still had over me.  Only to realize that this woman who stood in front of him was no longer enamored by his vampire like magic.

This is the strength that I never thought I’d find because I was so in love with this man, the strength of being Myiagied, being ignored, dismissed and taken for granted year after excruciating, heartbreaking year.  He and he alone managed to kill the love I once felt.  He let the one woman who would have truly loved him unconditionally slip through his greedy, cheating, lying hands.  But I can honestly say, he’s too stupid to realize this but that’s okay with me, because I know what I brought to the table.  This woman who at one time loved him so deeply I would have died for this selfish bastard.

I still haven’t found Prince Charming or his horse Carlos, he may still exist if only in the myths we keep hidden away in the recesses of our minds.  What I do have is hope, that someday I might meet a nice guy (even at my age) and that we might have a fighting chance after my experience with Lestat.  Knowing what to do and not to do and maybe not judge him (whoever his is) too harshly based on the experiences of my past.  Lestat might still try to contact me, because he’s a narcissist and I truly believe he thinks I will love him until I die, boy would he be surprised.  But now he’s an afterthought in my life now, not where he wants to be.  The motherfucker still has his wife, his kids, his business and all his assists he didn’t want to lose half of in an imagined divorce that played out in his head, so he can stay right where he’s at.  I also realized that karma has been in his life all along.  He has to stay in a marriage to woman he doesn’t love (so he says) but only “cares” for.  He has to endure waking up next to someone with questionable intelligence and that won’t have sex with him.  He has to stay married to someone who will never show any interest in what he does, his businesses or him in general.  He will forever have to endure the boring daily routine of “pretending” he’s a happy husband and father, and that is THE ultimate karma in my eyes.  All of that is payback for twenty years of what he put me through.

Everything I’ve come to learn about an emotional vampire, co-dependent behavior and dysfunctional relationships is all because I was on the brink of either homicide or destruction of property.  I have many friends who saw me through the worst parts of being with Lestat, and I appreciate them greatly.  But most of all, I couldn’t have gotten this far along without Terri and her amazing ability to strip away the myopic, rose colored glasses I had worn for twenty years of my life.  She allowed me to figure out for myself that Lestat wasn’t who I believed him to be.  She didn’t candy coat anything and her brutal honesty was at times hard to take, but she said she couldn’t help me if I didn’t wanted to be helped.  That’s when I realized that I needed help in order to break away from Lestat and his emotional manipulation.

She helped me find the inner strength she said I had, but because I allowed Lestat to push it back in order to keep control of my presence in his life.  Terri is a godsend, I owe her so much, and yet she says “It’s my job to help those who think there is no help” and I appreciate her helping me.  The end of Lestat doesn’t mean the end of Terri, I still have a long way to go but now I can concentrate on other issues in my life now that “the” big issue is gone.

What do I have after twenty years?  In the past I would have said nothing, but that simply isn’t true.  My brilliant therapist put it to me this way, she said “You were able to overcome becoming a teenaged statistic, you became a mother at sixteen, married a man you weren’t even sure you loved.  You married him believing you were doing the right thing for your son.  You were able to grow up while raising a son, then having two more in the muck and mire that was a very one sided marriage.  You knew you had to leave that marriage no matter how much it was going to hurt your boys, and with that you walked out into the unknown. You found yourself divorced at 28, then met a man you honestly believed loved you and he probably does.  But you found yourself in yet another relationship where you gave your entire body and soul, getting very little in return. And in the midst of all of this personal and physical chaos, you managed to educate yourself, you got your Bachelor’s and then your Masters, and finally you found your dream job.

Yes, you filed for bankruptcy to save yourself and what little you had in order for you to build you financial life.  You were Myagied by the man you loved, who taught you in the harshest of ways to take care of yourself.  Now you have three adult children who are all doing well, because you raised them.  You are now in a job you have wanted for a long time, you are financially stable for the first time in your life, all of this and without a man!  You have accomplished so much in the thirty-two and half years you were with these two selfish and immature men in your life.  And yet you are still standing, you didn’t let anything knock you down because you knew you had to keep going for your boys, for yourself and your sanity.  You’re getting ready to buy your own house, you have everything you ever wanted from Lestat, and without realizing you got it all on your very own.”

That’s Terri for you, what an absolute jewel I have in her.  Before I began therapy with her, if anyone had asked me what I had after twenty years with Lestat, I would have said I have nothing. But, she made me see that what I have after all these years is a new found sense of self, independence and self-assurance, I don’t depend on anyone for financial stability, security or emotional reassurance.  This Cinderella has realized that waiting on Prince Charming and his horse Carlos is time best spent putting on that shiny armor, picking up that sword to cut away all the ties that remain of Lestat. I will ride away on my own horse into the unknown that is my future, and I’m going to do it wearing stilettos because after all, I am FABULOUS!

The End


Part 25…………………Feeding the Alligators and Lestat’s Last Stand

“Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you, and you still won’t hear me.  Don’t want your hand this time I’ll save myself, maybe I’ll wake up for once”-Evanescence

It’s not uncommon for someone in therapy to question their therapist’s manner of helping you, it’s actually part of the process.  After everything I had gone through with Lestat I began to tell Terri that I was beginning to tire of not only talking about him but writing about him as well.  I still had this overwhelming urge to keep these stupid journals about him and I had sworn to burn them once I bought my house.  She told me that it was actually a good idea that I have a plan for what I’m going to do with them and not keep them forever.  She also began to breakdown every aspect of my time with Lestat and make me see what he’d done to me all these years.  During this time I was at the end of my ever fraying rope with Lestat and our toxic, twisted, dysfunctional, emotionally draining relationship.

It was August of 2018 he had gone to San Antonio five times since he said he’d bought a house “for his kids” which was about four month prior.  Not only was he buying a house, he was having it built to his specifications, because he’s a fucking control freak and obsessive compulsive asshole.  His kids are grown ass adults but in spite of his son owning his own business and his daughter being a sophomore at UTSA, and he still supported them financially (both of them).  Something that the motherfucker couldn’t do for me when I needed a little help.  And I don’t mean support in the sense that I sat around the house watching Netflix all day doing nothing.  I mean helping me when my power got cut off in the middle of summer.  Or paying my rent for a few months while I caught up on my bills.  Or hell, letting me stay in one of his rental properties for a year while I saved money to become financially stable.  Yes, he has rental properties but never offered me any kind of “real” help.  I say real because as Terri pointed out, his type of help came few and far between and it was for his benefit and not mine.  When I explained to her how he bought me appliances for my apartment and how he fixed up that apartment she explained what he did and why he did it.

She said he could have bought me those appliances himself after all he’s a landlord and he’s buying appliances for his properties all the time.  The reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want any kind of trail, monetary or otherwise to connect him to me so he asked me to go and get an account with Lowes.  He fixed up the apartment to make himself comfortable while he visited me every Saturday for two years.  Terri mentioned that if he really wanted to help me he wouldn’t have made it so hard for me, he would have just done it, period.  She asked me to think about all the times I spend trying to justify his bad behavior, making excuses for him and why he didn’t get a divorce, thinking he would change.  She also told me that even though after every breakup, I secretly wanted him to text or call and when he did it was just co-dependent behavior on my end.  She said that him communicating with me made me feel wanted, after everything he’d put me through, this was the misery I was addicted to.

She explained that after every time we’d separate he would actuall try and make his marriage work, it didn’t matter if he loved his stupid wife or not.  Terri said that he would leave me with full intentions of working on his relationship with Fiona.  Only to realize that he was the only one that was trying because Fiona didn’t think she had to anymore, he “trained” her so she didn’t have to try.  After each and every try, which lasted either a couple of days or a week at the most, he’d see that it was futile in nature and then he’d call or text me because he indeed realized (yet again) the person he was married to was like staring into that airline toilet seat, round, hollow, uninteresting and full of shit.  She explained that is the reason he was always the one to initiate communication with me, because I was the most interesting person he knew and without me in his life he had nothing but money in the bank and Fiona Shrek at home with the IQ of a river rock.  This took a while to sink in as I thought he’d always call because he actually loved me.  She said he probably does love me, but as she explained before he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out if I’d stick around or leave knowing I might get bored of him, you know, like I am now.

As I thought back on all those things I remembered, his biggest fear was for me or anyone actually, was to think of him as a bad guy.  He would always say “I know I’m a good guy, I work hard and make an honest living” but little did he realize that he was the worst of the worst.  His ideas of what type of person he is, was distorted and warped, just like a narcissistic emotional vampire thinks of himself.  For example, this “good guy” would ask me get down to pay/pump gas in my car (when we were using my car to avoid using his truck so he wouldn’t get recognized) while he stayed in the car waiting for me.  He said that would make him feel like a complete dick because he was worried about what people at the other gas pumps would think.  Well guess what?  He was/is a complete dick! It was all about appearances, that’s how an emotional vampire thinks.  He would continually say that he knew his worth that he never did anything dishonest but I knew him way better than he realized.  I began to see the small and dishonest things he’d do and that carefully sculptured façade began to crack.  One Saturday morning while we were sitting outside underneath my back porch taking in the summer sun and playing chess, we got to talking about everything we’d been through together.

It was a bad habit we had when one or both of us felt tension in our not-so-perfect relationship.  Let me explain how fragile his ego really is, we got into the habit of playing chess for fun and it soon turned into a knock-down, drag-out type of competition.  We both got good at chess (well as good as one can get playing with the same person over and over) and he would win the majority of the time.  But when I would beat him, he’d give up and he wouldn’t want to keep playing.  Terri explained that it was his ego taking a beating and he didn’t want to go through that more times than he had to.  So we began to remember when we’d first met and how we’d gotten to that point in our lives etc.  Then I mentioned (casually, I really didn’t think about it) that he’d treated me bad on more than a couple of occasions in spite of his “good guy” persona.  The look on his face changed and I mean drastically, he actually looked surprised, shocked and in utter disbelief that those words had come out of my mouth.

He stopped dead in his tracks and just sat there, no words, silent as if engrossed by the very idea that he could have possibly treated me bad, imagine that?  I could tell he was having a hard time believing it because according to him he’s never been anything but generous and loving towards me.  Boy was this a wakeup call and the emotional vampire did not like it one bit and by this point in my therapy with Terri, I didn’t care what he thought or believed.  The silence was unbelievably awkward.  Finally he went back to our chess game but after that day, I could tell he was still thinking about what I had said.

Three days later came the culmination of all the emotional turmoil and thunderous explosion that was my now jaded and angry heart.  He had asked if I could take a couple of days of vacation leave so we could spend those days together.  I stupidly said yes and then he said we could go to a hotel like we use to when we first met and spend those days alone with no interruptions or distractions (which I’m assuming he meant my son who lived with me).  So, as usual I made the hotel reservations and planned out our three days there.  Then the day before we were scheduled to go to the hotel he said he wouldn’t be able to go the first day because of some stupid awards ceremony he had to attend with Fiona that idiot denim skirt wearing mental midget.  I got angry and yelled at him asking why he’d wanted me to ask for vacation days if he was going to skip out on me the very first day!

He apologized and said his stupid wife told him at the very last minute, and I thought okay no problem I’ll spend that day at the hotel enjoying the pool and having a bottle of wine.  So the next day he calls me at 6am (waking me up of course) to ask what I wanted for breakfast.  I told him that I would get ready so we could go OUT for breakfast and he told me he couldn’t because he didn’t want to be seen by anyone that knows his wife.  That was it, I blew up I no longer had the patience to comply with his stupid requests and I told him that if he wasn’t going to be able to take me to breakfast then I would go alone and hung up on him.  I got ready and I had forgotten I had already told him which hotel I was at and the room number.  As I finished dressing there was a knock on my door and all I flinched, feel regret at giving him the hotel info.

He kept knocking and when I did open the door as I was on my way out, as I walked passed him he grabbed my arm and said “Where are you going?”  I responded “Breakfast” and kept walking to my car.  He stood there not knowing what to do, but I sure as hell knew that this was going to be the very last time he or any man would do this to me.  I drove away not really knowing what was going through his mind.  As I drove into the Denny’s parking lot I found out, it seems emotional vampires don’t like it when you ignore them or spoil their plans.  I had walked into the Denny’s and had been seated when I saw him walk in after me.  He sat down at the booth and I asked him “What do you want Lestat? Why don’t you go home and waste your wife’s time” again he looked surprised.

The waitress had come to take my order and he had asked for coffee, I sighed loudly and looked at him and then he asked me “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?” I found this funny because I knew there was ABSOLUTELY NOTHING wrong with me.  Well, except for being with him that is.  I just proceeded to put creamer in my coffee and look up at him while I took my very first sip.  He kept asking me over and over and I kept ignoring him and finally I said “Well it seems that you didn’t recognize anyone that might know your wife and you didn’t melt into the booth.  It’s occurred to me that you are a fucking coward!”  He looked up and it was almost the same look that he’d given me when I told him he’d treated me bad that day playing chess.  His eyes were intently focused on mine and I kept on saying “So, since we both know you’re a fucking cheating, lying asshole of a coward what do you have to say to that Mr. Good, Hardworking Guy?”

He knew exactly why I had said that and he looked around the restaurant as if to make sure there was really no one he knew then responded with “All I’ve ever done is love you! I’m tired of you telling me I haven’t helped you!” I laughed out loud and said “Then I think you and I have two vastly different ideas of what love and help are” and he looked down at his coffee and said “Let’s just go back to the hotel and we’ll talk there.”  I said that I wasn’t going to let him into the hotel room and he was just going to have to go home to his idiot wife and spend what remained of my two vacation days at home, with his “soul mate.”  I got up and paid for my breakfast and walked out, he followed and in the parking lot of the Denny’s of Montana and Airway Blvd the emotional explosion I knew was bound to happen, happened.

As he followed me to my car and he said “You have no idea what I’ve been through to be with you!” I turned around and before my brain could react, my body did, closing my fist into a ball of hormonal rage and I punched him so hard I could hear my hand striking his face, it wasn’t a slap it was a fucking punch.  The giant opal and sterling silver ring I was wearing scratched him, his cheek, nose and the top of his lip.

Claudia Lestat

He looked back at me with that ‘I can’t believe you just did that’ look and I finally found my voice, I had finally allowed my brain to do the talking instead of my heart and yelled at him “I have NO fucking idea what YOU’VE been through?!?!  You selfish, self-centered BASTARD! How dare you stand there and lecture me on what YOU’VE been through!!  You have no idea what it’s like to sacrifice your entire life for twenty fucking years for a selfish man!  Then for him to tell you that he isn’t going to be able to be with you because he’s too materialistic to get a fucking divorce!! You are a goddamned COWARD, you’re a lying, cheating piece of shit and I am no longer going to allow you to play me anymore!

Listen here cupcake, if you EVER and I do mean EVER contact me again I will make sure that your wife knows about us.  I will make sure that she knows every sordid detail of your twenty year relationship with your girlfriend AND I will tell her that you’ve fucked around with three of her friends and several of her coworkers.  I know where you live, your home number, I know her email address, her cell phone number and where she works and know her office number as well!  So forget EVERYTHING you’ve ever known about me, or what I would do for you because all of that shit is gone motherfucker.  You killed my love, my devotion, my pride and my self-respect so I have nothing and I do mean NOTHING to lose by letting your wife know about you and me!! So don’t you fucking underestimate what I will do if you ever try to contact me again!!!!  I don’t love you anymore, I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to you, you ugly stupid kids or your insipid brain dead wife! I can and will ruin your life so bad it will make losing half your assets in a divorce seem like a goddamned day at Disneyland!!!

He stood there, red in the face where I had punched him as a couple of spectators watched from the front door of the Denny’s.  I was filled with rage, and he genuinely looked hurt both emotionally and physically and I knew he knew I was serious about everything I had said.  At this point in my life I would and could make him suffer for everything he’d put me through and he definitely knew I had nothing to lose.  I unlocked my car and drove back to the hotel and that’s when I broke down, the emotional whirlwind that occurred in the parking lot of the Denny’s had finally caught up with me.  As the rage subsided all I did was cry, I cried more that day than I had in my entire lifetime.  I didn’t leave the hotel room for the two remaining days, all I did was sleep and get up for water and go right back to sleep.

I knew cutting ties with him was going to have to happen in an emotionally violent way, which was the only way he was going to understand I was serious and that this was the end.  I also knew that calling him a coward was going to help in cutting those ties and having them stay that way, no chance of him trying to come back, text me or call me at work.  That was the ultimate one-two punch, as an emotional vampire with an over inflated ego and very proud of who he “believed” he was, the unmasking and forcing him to look into the mirror was going to hit him hard.  I think the first time I saw his vulnerability that day playing chess, telling him he’d treated me bad and then verbalizing to him his cowardice and emotional manipulation was the final blow and the emotional vampire was finally exposed to the sun and began to burn away, like ash.

I also knew that to be able to finally be free of him, I mean really free I was going to have to resort to telling him I would expose his infidelity to his wife as well as letting him know I had proof of the twenty years we spent together.  When I loved him, it never crossed my mind to ever hurt him or destroy the life he had at home, but I now longer loved him and thanks to Terri I was able to accept that.  I’m not going to say that it didn’t hurt, but he hurt me more by stringing me along for twenty years just to feed his emotional sucking, self-serving ego.

That day was a long time in the making and although I didn’t really intend to do it that day or that particular way, there was a sense of relief.  I felt the emotional baggage lift and there was no more black cloud of insecurity or indecision looming over me.  Instead what was left was the void that was filled by Lestat and his scheduled time with me.  There was emptiness now where he used to be, but to be honest there was nothing there before, not really.  Even though I knew I was over him, that I was no longer in love with Lestat there was that space with nothing in it.  A vast gaping vacuum of time and I had nothing to fill it with but one day Terri suggested I start to write and I told her I was exhausted about writing about Lestat and didn’t want to start another journal.  She said “Not a journal, how about you start a blog?” I looked at her with that look you give someone when you think their bat-shit crazy.  She said that starting a blog would help with that void of time and also provide an additional source of therapy.  I asked her “Where the fuck would I even begin to blog about being the mistress of a married man?”  She answered “Start at the beginning and the rest will come as you keep writing.”

It’s going on six months since that day in the Denny’s parking lot and I had written what I believed to be a novel about a mistress and her married boyfriend and everything that had happened in their twenty year relationship.  When I decided to start my blog I broke down what I had written in my journals and the so-called “novel” about Lestat and myself.  I told Terri I felt a bit guilty writing about him and she told me to stop trying to redeem him in any way and since he was no longer a factor in my life I could call him by another name.  So I decided on Lestat because that’s who he reminds me of, Lestat de Lioncourt from an Interview with a Vampire.  That narcissistic, self-serving, vain asshole who did nothing but make Louis’ life a living hell for what remained of his mortal life and the rest of his eternal one. So Claudia takes a stand, slits his throat and then Louis and Claudia feed him to the alligators in the swamp, believing this was a way of ridding themselves of Lestat.  Doing what I did, in a sense was metaphorically feeding him to the alligators, except in public, at the Denny’s.

She finally convinced me to start my blog by saying (and I quote) “Lestat won’t realize anytime soon what he’s done to you because that’s who he is, he is only ever going to care about himself while he’s young enough where he thinks he can go out and find another mistress.  You on the other hand can villainize him anonymously through your blog and only those close to you will know who he really is, and believe me that’s enough for people to make a connection.  But it’s not really villanizing someone when everything they’ve done is true.  Lestat’s wife lives blissfully unaware of what he’s done and how that will impact their marriage in the long run.  When he’s old and his memory is fading the only sure thing he’ll remember is you and that day in the parking lot because then and only then will he finally realize you were the one that got away, that you were the spectacular woman he let slip through his hands. When he’s bored to death of talking and dealing with his wife, which will happen sooner than you think, he will remember everything you ever did for him and for his sake.  But like with all emotional vampires they will only realize when it’s too late and THAT is what will finally kill them.”

Terri helped me learn a very important lesson, relationship addicts are just as susceptible to falling off the wagon as drug addicts.  But I also realized that we will never really get rid of our demons (chemical or human) we simply need to learn to live above them.  That is the key to survival.  Stay tuned for Part 26……


Part 24…………The Emotional Vampire’s Oedipus Syndrome & His Airline Toilet Seat Personality Spouse.

“Miss the phone calls, when it’s your fault, I miss the late nights, don’t miss you at all, I like the kick in the face, and the things you do to me, I love the way that it hurts, I don’t miss you, I miss the misery” – Halestorm, I Miss The Misery.

A few days after I had demolished his gate I had another session with Terri.  I spent almost half an hour explaining what had happened.  When I was done she sighed (I can never tell if she’s sighing out of habit or in a judg-ey type way) and sat up straight on her chair.  She picked up her pad and pen and looked up at me and began to speak.  “Well, first of all I knew that you had anger towards him because of the culmination of bad emotions that your relationship is causing you.  Also because you’re finally trying to accept that you don’t love him anymore and are addicted to the misery he causes you.” I sat there listening to her, nodding my head going through all the things I did that day and………….what, wait did she just say I was addicted to the MISERY he causes me?!?!

Yes, yes she fucking did! I stopped her and said “Okay Dr. Terri wait a minute……” then she quickly told me to listen to her before I began to question what she said.  She continued “that’s right you heard me, you’re addicted to the misery and pain he’s caused you.  You no longer love him, if you did you wouldn’t have run down his fence with your truck.  So your beginning the hate phase which is a good thing because your subconscious is telling you to move on.  It’s telling you that this thing, this whatever you have with Lestat is finally coming to an end, so accept it.”  The old, in love with Lestat you would have never, ever caused him any personal or financial pain whatsoever.  You got mad over what, a concert ticket? No you got mad over the fact that he actively chose to take his wife to a concert that YOU wanted to see with him.  You realized that he’s never going to choose you over anything in his life, you’re not that important to him.” OMG this bitch was pissing me off! How dare she say something so callus so mean and…….so true.  It didn’t matter how much that asshole motherfucker said he loved me, he didn’t, he loved himself more and it was there the entire twenty years we were together.  I just didn’t see it because I was deeply in love with this emotional vampire.

She stayed quiet almost as if she was letting me absorb the words, the wisdom, the truth and I sat there replaying the entire twenty years of everything I had ever done for him, selflessly, completely in love, doing things I shouldn’t have.  Remembering all the sacrifices I’d made for his sake and the biggest one? Waiting, waiting in vain for a selfish man who would never, ever think I was important enough or loved enough (or at all) to believe I was valuable in any way to tell me he’d leave me alone so I could get on with my life, find somebody new and stop wasting my time.  I cried for what seemed like forever, and Terri let me, not once trying to get me to stop or asking me how I felt or if I was okay.

She could see I wasn’t okay but yet she knew that this was a breakthrough and now my, or should I saw our work began.  Even though I was still trying to process that, one) I wasn’t really in love with this emotional vampire and two) I needed to figure out how to leave him, three) how was I going to get on with my life without the misery.  When I first began my therapy she asked me if I had any kind of outlet for all the emotional turmoil I was going through because of Lestat.  I had told her that I write, that I had a box and a half of journals all written in the span of almost twenty years and all about him.  She once asked me to bring in one of the very first ones I had written and one of the most recent.  I asked her why, she said she wanted to compare my feelings and writing style from the beginning to present.  I thought this was a weird request but I said okay why not?

So I did, she never told me about her thoughts on the two journals I had brought her to review, she just gave them back to me after a week and that was it.  But this last time she asked me to bring in the most recent journal I had, and again I did.  She’s the one that diagnosed me with mild hypographia and I suppose it explains why I feel the constant need to write.  During this visit with her she asked me “Do you remember when I asked you to bring in a couple of your journals when you started coming to see me, then again recently?”  I nodded yes and she continued “Well the reason I did was because I wanted to examine your emotional state from how you were writing in your journals.”  I just kept listening to her but didn’t think much of it and she went back to her desk and picked up a file and came back to sit down in front of me.  She put on her glasses and began to explain to me that her evaluation of my writings when I first began to see Lestat had vastly changed to present day.

I nodded again and said “okay, and?” Then she closed the file and looked at me and began to explain that I had fallen out of love with him a long time ago and that I only held onto him this long because it was like a stale marriage.  She said couples seldom confront the issues going on with their marriage when they don’t want to face the truth about the problems between them.  In my case she explained that I had been with Lestat longer than I was with my ex-husband and that there was no doubt that I love him deeply when we first met.  But she also hit me with a personal fact that I never even thought of.  She said that I had married my ex-husband as a child, a sixteen year old girl who became a wife to an immature eighteen year old.  And over the course of our fourteen and a half year marriage we grew up in different directions and matured differently.  But when I met Lestat at the age of twenty-nine I had fallen in love for the very first time as an adult woman.

She said that was the reason I had the idea in my head that he was the love of my life was because at the time he was, but he changed how I felt about him over the course of twenty years.  She mentioned that my journals reflected how my mind went from writing about how much I loved him and that I would do anything to make him happy, that I would have waited for him forever.  She said one of the oldest journals I wrote was about but how much I loved him, how I had met the greatest love of my life.  Then she mentioned that the latest one was all about how I was tired of him, his indecision and how all I wanted to do was find a way to get on with my life without him in it.  She stayed silent as if almost letting me take in what she had just explained to me, which let’s face it felt like I was hit with a pretty big emotional baseball bat.

I cleared my throat and asked her to explain why she thinks I’m addicted to the misery he’s caused me, saying that it was almost bordering on emotional abuse.  I sat there looking at her, then her cell phone rang and she excused herself to go out an answer the call.  It was as if I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move and tried really hard to think what she mean “almost” bordering on emotional abuse.  The floodgates opened and all the raw untouched emotions came back to hit me square in the face.  Remembering all the horrible things he’d put me through, as if I needed anymore negativity to remember, and sat motionless, memories reeling through my brain like old black and white stock footage, skipping, scratched and faded.  The ill-fated Ruidoso trip where he called me a whore, the Eagle’s concert, him standing me up all the time, being left on I-10 with a flat tire, walking in heels to Walmart, being arrested and calling him for help, sleeping outside in August on an inflatable mattress because there was no power in my house, watching him pass me by on the highway while my car wouldn’t start and him not answering his phone, constantly telling me he never promised me anything, making me eat lunch in my car, ignoring me at the movie theater.

I felt tears start to well up, and somehow Sharleen (my brain) said “NO! You will not cry over him anymore!” (by this point I was really, really tired of crying over this asshole) my brain was right, I was done, he wasn’t worth crying over.  Terri walked back in and apologized for leaving then turned and asked me if I was okay.  I said no that I wasn’t okay and that I felt like I’ve wasted twenty long, agonizing years on a stupid, selfish man who believed I wasn’t valuable enough to walk away from me or let me leave without him trying constantly to change my mind and weasel his way back into my life.  She said that I needed to find that out on my own because her telling me wasn’t going to help, I had to discover what an asshole he really was.

She asked me to sit down and to tell her everything that I had remembered and I did.  She sat quiet listening to me, nodding at all the humiliating details of all the bad Lestat had caused me. After I was done she looked at me and began to give me her analysis of him, my emotional state and how this was going to impact me positively and how it could cause him to come back and try even twice as hard to get back into my life.  She asked me how I saw him after I had remembered everything.  I didn’t know how to answer, I honestly felt lost for the very first time in my adult life I didn’t know what to do or feel.  She said she was going to begin by providing a profile of someone like Lestat and that she was going to get super specific about him and his personality.

I sat back in the chair as she began to explain him and how his thought process worked.  She started at the beginning when he first told me he was going to go back to his wife by saying that he did so out of some sort of faded devotion to her because he felt a certain amount of guilt over leaving her with a five year old and a newborn to take care of.  She said that he would have eventually have left me to go back to her because of his kids.  She asked me about his dad which I thought was weird because what did his father have anything to do with how Lestat turned out as an adult?  It turns out a hell of a lot, she asked how much I knew about his parents and so I told her.  After which she said “Well it seems you know more about his childhood and parents than his wife might” and I shrugged as if it was some sort knowledge that only wives would have.

She said it was, so I kept talking about what I knew about his father and when I got to the part where his dad had an entire “other” family and she stopped me, pointed her finger at me and said “wait a minute here, hold on” as she got up, opened the door to her office and called in her secretary.  She whispered something to her and her secretary nodded and then she closed the door.  That’s when she asked me to continue so I did, I told her that his dad had another family that consisted of two boys and their mom for the better part of Lestat’s life.  When Lestat was about eleven years old his dad took the entire family to California to meet their half-brothers and their mom which really blew her away.  She asked me “His dad took his family here to visit his family there? Where was Lestat’s mom in all of this?”  I told her that Lestat had said his mom told him when he was an adult that she didn’t blame the boys his father had with this other lady.

I remember asking Lestat if his mom ever blamed the “other” woman and he said his mom told him that the other women didn’t know Lestat’s dad had another family until she was dying from cancer.  Terry looked at me, her eyes wide open and said “So his mom didn’t blame the other woman but did she blame her husband?”  I told her that by what Lestat had told me she was completely dependent on his dad, she didn’t work, she didn’t know how to drive or have an education, she was a stay at home mom taking care of seven kids, so she had no choice but to stay with his dad no matter how much she might have wanted to leave.  She sat back with a smile creeping over her face and asked me “Do you see why Lestat is the way he is? And do you see he married a woman exactly like his mother?”  I sat there taking in what she was saying and processing the information she had just given me.  She continued by saying “He married a woman that was dependent on him, he does everything for her because of what his dad put his mom through.  It’s bordering on Oedipus syndrome, he has had daddy issues too but mostly sympathized with his mother so he chose a woman like her. He may have not forgiven his father for doing what he did to his mother therefore decided to return to his wife after they decided to divorce.”

The connections were amazingly obvious and why the fuck hadn’t I seen them before?  She continued “He may never really have forgiven his father and yet emulating his behavior by having a girlfriend as well as his wife.  I know it sounds confusing but do you see the connection?”  I nodded yes then she sat up and said “He married a women exactly like his mom, someone that could be manipulated and so dependent on him she would never divorce him.  Then he met you, a woman who thought for herself and whom he taught how to take care of herself financially, albeit in a cruel manner.  Then he saw that you couldn’t be manipulated like his wife and when you began to question his thinking, his authority so to speak, he didn’t know how to react to you pushing back. To put it in simple terms, you are a strong independent, self-sufficient woman who doesn’t really need him.  If he had married you, you would have eventually seen his true character and would have divorced him.  He, on the other hand would have never divorced you because he can’t take that kind of rejection, especially from you so he never committed to you.  He stayed with a woman who would never think for herself and would never leave him, like his mom never left his dad.”

I looked at her, bewildered and she continued by saying that the bottom line was that he couldn’t handle being with someone as intelligent, independent and as strong willed as I am.  She referenced when he had bought his wife the SUV and what I had told him that day during lunch, how I would have taken the car back to the dealership.  She said they (Lestat and Fiona) are both tied into each other financially and it doesn’t matter how much he loved me (if he did at all) or how much Fiona wanted a divorce they have only ever thought of the material losses to their lives.  Lestat with half of his assets and Fiona losing the stability of a two income household that she’s gotten so use to having, not to mention not doing anything remotely responsible because he does everything for her.  It didn’t matter that her personality was akin to something you’d catch from sitting on an airplane toilet seat (thanks Maggie!).

I told her this “revelation” didn’t make me feel any better, and she looked at me and said “Okay then maybe this will, you can see that he acts the way he does because of how his dad treated his mother and how he looked to emulate his dad in his behavior while trying to stay true to his mom by marrying someone that was just as complicit but also easy manipulated.  He was never going to be able to do that to you and I do mean NEVER.  He sees and realizes you are smarter than his wife but also smarter and stronger than he could ever be and he doesn’t want to be outsmarted by anyone, let alone a woman like you.  Someone who’s been through so much despite being knocked down emotionally, physically and mentally you are still standing in spite of everything he’s done to you.”  I asked her “So then he’s afraid of how I might have treated him if we’d stayed together?”  She nodded and said “Exactly, you’ve already outsmarted him by realizing that he, how did you say, Myagied you.  He thought he was going to break you like he did his wife.”   Break me, huh…….interesting. Stay tuned for Part 25……


Part 23………………………………Fishing for an Apology and a Remorseful Vampire

“I don’t need you to worry for me ’cause I’m alright, I don’t want you to tell me it’s time to come home, I don’t care what you say anymore this is my life, Go ahead with your own life leave me alone”- Billy Joel, My Life

I got to work the following morning and as I got off the rental truck, I saw a familiar truck parked two parking spaces away.  I looked at it and rolled my eyes, got my things and walked towards my office.  Lestat got down and said “Can I please talk to you? Please?” I asked him “What exactly do you want to talk to me about Lestat?”  He looked towards the ground, his mouth twisted to one side, and his eyes looked everywhere but in my direction and he said “Just please let me talk to you.  Let’s go get some coffee.”  I was always at work about forty five minutes early every day and I just said “fine” and we walked towards his truck.  As we went for coffee we stayed silent, listening to the radio and then the Eagles song Love Will Keep Us Alive came on.  I reached over and changed the station.  That’s when he spoke and said “Why’d you do that for?” I glared at him and he just said “Sorry” and I sat back as he handed me my coffee.

As we drove back onto campus he finally said “You know, what you did last night could have gotten you arrested” and I responded with “Oh yeah? By whom? If you think that for one minute I’d be afraid of you calling the cops your mistaken.  And you know why?  Because that means you’d have to explain to fat ass Fiona why you were filing a police report in the first place.  I’m not stupid Lestat, if you want to call the police go ahead and let’s see how that goes for you.”  I was thinking he might want some sort of apology for the rental truck gate thing, but he wasn’t going to get one, not from me, not ever.  He drank his coffee in silence and looking away and then I said “Thanks for the coffee and small talk but I have to get to work so I’ll see you later” and got my things and turned to open the door to his truck.  He grabbed my arm and said “I love you, I hope you know that” and I turned to look at him and stayed silent, I didn’t say anything as I got off his truck in front of my office.  As I walked in the door the office phone was already ringing, I just put all my stuff down and sat there at my desk, watching the phone indicator light flash on and off…….

Realizing, I mean really realizing that I had been in a twenty year relationship with a man who had lied to me the entire time was a very bitter pill to swallow.  Some will even call it stupid, blind and emotional denial, it was all of those things.  Somehow I knew in the back of my mind around year thirteen that there was something very wrong with how the course of my relationship with Lestat was going.  But at that point in time I was still very much in love with him but in spite of us breaking up on a regular basis then getting back together in between trying online dating on my part and his constant need for sexual gratification wherever he could get it, it became even more toxic.  Then having to deal with his constant indecision about me, his marriage and our future in general got to be a bit too much emotional baggage to deal with.

I began therapy until 2014 and it was a long time overdue.  Lestat asked me why I thought I needed therapy and at first I answered him saying it was because of all the issues I had regarding my mom, her mental instability and narcissism.  Since he knew my mom and dad he knew what I had gone through with my mom throughout the years.  Yes, you heard that right my parents knew I was dating a married man.  How could that be? Well the fact that when I met Lestat he was separated and in the process of getting a divorce then he back tracked and decided to go back into what I thought was a loveless marriage for the sake of his perfect, Stepford children which of course was bullshit.  But I know that now, then it wasn’t so clear because I was still wearing those rose colored, deceiving glasses of love.

Thank God for Terri and her amazing ability to make me see things I had refused to see and try to come to terms with them.  As previously mentioned Lestat had been helpful a few times like when I moved into my apartment or when I needed things done around my house.  Also when my car needed to be tuned or washed or small stuff like that.  I say small stuff because Terri made me realize that I was trying to make excuses for Lestat rather than seeing him for who he was.  She said I was “trying to redeem him in ways that were unredeemable” and I didn’t see it and when she pointed out those things to me it made me angry.  She didn’t know him the way I did, she didn’t love him or go through all the struggles that I had for and with him.  I mean he was perfect (at first) and I argued that fact with her for three entire sessions.  Then she asked me to tell her about him and his “supportive and loving nature.”  So I did and in the course of doing so I realized I was alone in spite of being in a relationship with a man I thought I loved.

In the winter of 2003 I began working at UTEP, I had been applying there when one of my ex friends (remember tuna girl, serial divorcee and getting pregnant to snag a man friends?) well it was Hilly (getting pregnant to snag a man) who suggested I start applying at UTEP because she worked there and it was a state job with great benefits.  For an entire year I applied and way before it was online, I had to print out the application, fill it out, attach my resume and physically take it to human resources on campus.  It was a long and tedious process but Lestat kept telling me it would be worth it. So when I would tell him I was going to apply for another position, he’d tell me he would pick me up at my current workplace (we’d do this during my lunch hour) and drive me to UTEP so I could drop off my application.  He drove me because parking on campus was a complete nightmare.  He thought driving me would save time this way I could walk in, drop off what I need and he’d pick me up then he’d buy me lunch and we’d eat in his truck or my car and he’d drive me back to work.

This went on for an entire year and I had plenty of interviews but no job offers. Then finally on January 21, 2003 I got a job in the College of Education.  I was over the top ecstatic and so was Lestat, he said that since I was working at a University I didn’t have an excuse to NOT go to school.  One of the very few times he was right, I began my new job and it took me a while longer to start school.  In 2005 I transferred to a different department and my boss let me take classes during the day.  So I began my undergrad career in the summer of 2005 with summer session classes as a “non-traditional” student which is a nice way of saying older students that work.  My classes began at 7:30am until 9:30am so that meant I had to be on campus by 7am every day for May and June.  Then I took a lunch class in July and a night class that went from 5pm to 9pm, needless to say it was a very hectic time for me.  But every morning during my first classes at 7:30am Lestat would show up with breakfast and coffee and we’d have breakfast together in his truck or my car.  I thought (at the time) it was very romantic, that is until my therapist pointed out it was more so he didn’t have to be seen with me out in public at a restaurant.

That is when I had a flashback, memories that I guess I had chosen to bury in the deep, dark recesses of my mind.  Terri had asked me what I was thinking about, I told her that I now remember having lunch with Lestat while I was at UTEP and it consisted of me ordering food over the phone, picking it up and eating in either his truck or my car at Madeline Park in Kern Place, which was the closest park to where I worked.  We would eat during the summer with the air conditioner and car or truck running for an hour, safe and out of view from prying eyes.  Not once did he ask if I wanted to have a sit down lunch at a restaurant. Actually I take that back the only time he’d invite me, I mean INVITE me out to lunch was when I was dating someone else.  When he needed to get laid and wanted to get back into my good graces and my pants.  When I was dating Jeff he invited me to lunch often and I would refuse.  Then he’d say “come on go to lunch with me please, anywhere you want to go.  I’ll take you to Crave, I’ll get there early so I can get us a table” and that’s when I’d go out to eat at a restaurant with him.

Terri turned to her pad and began writing as I remembered what it was like in the beginning, tears filled my eyes and the warm saline fell down my cheeks.  It was humiliating, but I allowed it, I didn’t ask anymore of him.  I gave him everything when it came to me, he never once worked to earn my love and undying devotion, ever! How could have I been so stupid, how could I have allowed myself to go through that and not realized what he was doing to me?  Even though when we met we dated outright, I mean he was separated and I was divorced and we actually had a wonderful two years before his decision to go back to his lazy-eyed wife, but I honestly couldn’t remember what it was like to date him before the relationship apocalypse happened.  When did it become an affair and not a relationship because it sure as hell didn’t start out that way so how did it end up so fucked up?  I fell in love with a man who told me that he was getting a divorce and then went back to his wife so he could “be there” for his kids.

And where did that leave me? In love, in the middle of a relationship I had tried several times to end with no success, and now in therapy to come to terms with the last twenty years of my life with a narcist (why the fuck does spell check tell me that narcist isn’t a fucking word?!?). Worse a narcist, emotional vampire who took advantage of my devotion and love for him to exploit it in order to get everything he didn’t from that imbecilic waste of space he calls a wife. Terri listened to me for over an hour she could see that the memories I had blocked were all bad, and I was trying to justify Lestat’s behavior with the small amount of good he’d done in my life.  She emphasized “small” amount of good when she explained to me that even those small gestures were all self-serving no matter how I much I wanted to see him as having really loved me.

Terri and I began to talk about when I realized that Lestat was indeed an asshole narcist and it had begun right before I started therapy.  I told her about Kyle, Jeff and Waldo (the biggest relationship regret ever) and how I started to notice Lestat getting older and how his habits were more and more annoying as well as how I had been Myagied by him.  She said to me “so in reality he turned you into an independent woman?”  And I looked at her, stunned because I had known that all his financial responsibility lessons were harsh but I never realized that, yes he had. She emphasized how little he had really done for me and how he tried to teach me with harsh abandonment when I needed him the most.  He turned me into a survivor and she said “So you can survive him too, it’s not impossible you just have to want it bad enough.”  Stay tuned for part 24………..


Happy Valentine’s Day to You and Your Dodge Duster!

Carmine: “Red roses, lovely, romantic. The guy that sends these really knows what he’s doing.”

Loretta: “The guy who sends those spends a lot of money on something that’s going to end up in the garbage.” – Moonstruck, 1987.

Well it’s Valentine’s Day, that wonderful holiday where tons of red roses will be delivered to assumingly unaware women all over the country and thousands of pounds of chocolate will accompany them (don’t even get me started about how men get shortchanged on this holiday, I have three boys remember?)  In my office some, not all of the women get beautiful sprawling bouquets of roses, flower arrangements, boxes of chocolate and the occasional stuffed animal.  Oh, and let’s not forget balloon bouquets as well, those shiny mylar globes of happiness…

This is not going to be one of those Grinchy “I hate Valentine’s Day” posts, because I’ve had a couple of noteworthy Valentine’s Day’s with flowers and boxes of chocolates.  But, I wanted to share a Valentine’s Day story from my youth because not all Valentine’s Days are happy for everyone and not everyone’s Valentine’s Day is spent with their significant other.  And sometimes, every once in a while, Valentine’s Day plans don’t go exactly how you wanted them to but due to certain circumstances, you realize that the outcome might have been better than what you had planned.  So here I go……..

In 1983 I was fourteen and in the 8th grade, I made my way as best I could through the hustle and bustle that was my junior high school, which was also the high school.  My hometown was so small that the junior high and high schools were combined.  Which I suppose logistically made sense.  So not only did I have to navigate my way through all the junior high angst but I also had to deal with older, more experienced mean high schoolers.  In the 7th grade I made it to be a crossing guard, and one of the high school girls decided she’d baptize me with a nickname, calling me “pumpkin face” because I was in dire need of braces.  In any case, that was just one of the horrible experiences of junior high I managed to get through barely scared (notice how I said barely).

But in the 8th grade I had caught the attention of a boy, not just any boy but an older boy.  He was a sophomore and I was over the moon in “like” with him.  I didn’t know what love was back then but I knew what like was.  Over the course of the winter months we talked and we’d walk to school together because the school bus would drop students off near my house and then they’d walk a short distance to the high school.  So we’d walk and talk together then one day in late January he asked me if I wanted to go to the Valentine’s Day dance.  I was in heaven, I mean this was the very first boy that had ever and I do mean EVER paid attention to me.  I hung around with a group of girls and we were all friends but there were definitely two distinct groups in our little “gang.”  In one group were the “pretty” girls, the girls that all the guys wanted to hang out with and then there were the “athletic” girls.  Those of us who played basketball, softball and were on the track team and we were also the girls that were approached by boys and asked if we could go ask our “pretty” girlfriends if they’d like to talk or pass them a note.

Or those girls that were asked if you could hold the pretty girls coats, purses or whatever needed holding at dances or any other social occasion.  So when this boy asked me to the dance I was elated to say the least. I told all my friends and they were excited for me.  I told my mom who asked me who this boy was and I told her and she said “okay, what do you need?”  I said I needed a dress and some shoes because well I played sports and my junior high wardrobe consisted of jeans, t-shirts and running shoes.  So she bought me a very pretty red dress and some patent leather heels, the dress was strapless and I loved it.  So this boy who we’ll call Ruben reminded me that we had a date for the Valentine’s Day dance.  As luck would have it, the dance was going to be held at the elementary school gym across the street from my house as the high school gym was dealing with a little problem called asbestos and being “renovated.”

So as the big day approached I began to primp, curl and accessorize, with absolutely no help from my mom.  A couple of my friends helped and I was excited, beyond excited.  Well the day arrived and it was Friday night and I got home to quickly begin my transformation.  The elementary gym across the street was abuzz with all kinds of activity, electrical equipment, decorations, lighting all that jazz.  The dance was going to begin at 7pm and Ruben said he’d walk over to my house to pick me up.  He said he had a car and I was curious to see it since I hadn’t seen him take it school.  So I was ready by 6:30 and my palms were beginning to sweat and I must have checked my makeup about a thousand times.  My parents weren’t home that day, it was payday for my dad and so they went about doing their payday errands and that meant they wouldn’t be home until way after nine that night.

I sat in my living room watching the parking lot in the school across the street begin to fill up with all kinds of cars.  Then when there was no more room in the small parking lot, people began to park on the street which meant in front of our house.  I looked at the clock on the wall and it was already 7:19pm (it’s funny the small things one remembers about certain moments in our lives) and I was beginning to worry.  I decided to sit outside on our front porch to wait for him, that way he didn’t have to come all the way into the yard.  That’s when I saw a brown Dodge Duster pullup to park on the opposite side of the street, right in front of the elementary school.  Then Ruben got out, and waved at me, I got up and began to walk towards the fence door and I opened it and latched it behind me as I stepped out onto the street.

He waved again and he had a big smile on his face, which made me feel pretty good and then he walked around his car to the passenger side door and opened it.  I began to walk across the street towards his car and then a very pretty girl was getting out of his car on the passenger side.  Her name was Sofia Ray and she was a Junior Varsity cheerleader, I felt my entire body go ice cold as I held onto the beautiful black satin wrap that one of my friend’s mom’s had lent me.  I stood there still smiling at him frozen in the middle of the street, like I didn’t know what else to do or how to react.  He waved at me a third time as she took his arm and then she whispered something in his ear and he shrugged his shoulders.  I’m assuming she asked him who I was and he said he didn’t know and walked right past me, up the steps into the gym and disappeared into the flashing colored lights and bombastic sound of the night’s activities.

I was still in the middle of the road looking into the gym doors as if he might come back out and explain what had just happened.  At that moment an approaching car honked at me and I snapped out of it quickly, scared half to death.  The loud honk woke me up but only to realize that I had been the butt of a very cruel joke.  I was the plot line from the film Never Been Kissed with Drew Barrymore before that movie was ever conceived.  I began to walk down to the small plaza in front of the Catholic Church. It had a large gazebo and was surrounded by trees and in the early 80’s it didn’t have but one light on the corner so I had the gift of solitude and darkness so no one could see me cry.  I couldn’t bear the thought of going back home and having to answer a thousand questions from my unsympathetic mother.  Half way there I had to take off the new heels that I was wearing because they hadn’t been broken in.  By the time I got to the plaza my pantyhose were torn and running up my leg and my feet were dirty from the asphalt of the street.

knife heart

As I sat there I heard voices coming from a distance and a one of my friends who lived two blocks from the church saw me and started to walk towards me.  She said hi in a real cheerful tone and I just waved at her and she automatically said “Hey I thought you were going to the dance?”  I just nodded my head no, and she got closer she said “What’s wrong, what happened?”  I couldn’t speak and then she asked her boyfriend to hold her bag of chips, he was from a different school and about seventeen at the time and although I knew who he was I just didn’t want him to know what happened to me, I didn’t want him to know about my humiliation.

She knelt down in from of me and then asked again what had happened, I told her the entire, sad brutal story of what had just transpired in the last forty-five minutes.  My friends name was Toni (short for Antonietta, she hated her name) she was older than I was about sixteen and I had met her in track.  We weren’t close friends but she was one of the few older girls in high school that was nice to me whenever I saw her, she always talked to me and made me feel less of a loser than many of the other high school “pretty girls.”  She was beautiful, athletic and she’s the one that got the other girl that called me pumpkin face to stop.

As soon as I had finished telling her about my ordeal she quickly got up and yelled at her boyfriend “Joey! Go get your car NOW!”  He walked towards her and she whispered something in his ear, he looked at me and nodded his head and left into the darkness.  She sat with me and she didn’t make me talk (she smelled of Love’s Baby Soft perfume and AquaNet hairspray) she just held my hand, sitting there in silence until we saw the headlights of Joey’s 1972 gold Olds Cutlass Supreme.  She took my hand and said “Come on” and I asked her “Where are we going?”  She said “You’ll see” and she told Joey to open the trunk to his car, as he got out he smiled and said “Don’t worry, we’re going to take care of him” and I wondered what the fuck are they talking about?

He turned on the flashlight he was holding and Toni began to look through his trunk.  She said out loud “Found it” and then Joey reached in and pulled out a tire iron and closed the trunk.  I felt like I was in the middle of Goodfellas and Henry and Karen Hill were about to get me in a whole mess of trouble.  We all climbed into Joey’s car and drove towards my house and as Joey passed the four way stop he began to slow down.  That’s when Toni asked me “Which one is his car?” Shocked and a bit bewildered I pointed to the shit brown Dodge Duster parked in front of the school gym.  Joey kept driving until we got to the end of the street and parked in front of one of my neighbor’s houses.  She looked back at me as I sat in the backseat and said “We’ll be right back okay, don’t leave because we’re taking you to McDonalds later, wait here.”

They got out of the car, Joey grabbed his leather jacket from the backseat beside me, Toni got her letterman jacket from her lap and she turned to him and said “ready?” and he nodded yes and they got off the car and began to walk towards the school.  They held hands and Toni looked back and me and gave me a wink as they walked hand in hand.  I saw them walk past the gym into the darkness as their two shadows disappeared.  I waited and waited for what seemed forever.  But in reality it was only about ten minutes.  I sat in the back of Joey’s car, it smelled of Brut cologne and Armor All, he had tons Muscle Car magazine’s on the floor.  I began to feel some of the humiliation start to subside as cars passed on the road, headlights glowing in the distance.  Then I heard talking, laughing and then the sound of tennis shoes running on asphalt in the dark and I saw Toni and Joey coming towards the car and quickly got in.

The doors slammed so fast and Joey started his car up making the tires squeal as he drove us in the opposite direction.  They kept their word and took me to McDonalds which was about fifteen miles away, it was the closest one to the small town we lived in.  We sat there in a booth facing the street watching the traffic pass by, and I asked them what they had done and they laughed and said “Oh nothing really, eat your fries” and they laughed some more.  By the time the night was coming to a close we drove back to San Eli laughing and singing along to the radio, Duran Duran’s Hungry like the Wolf.  I’m sure it wasn’t the Valentine’s Day they had planned on, but then again it wasn’t what I had planned on either.  As we turned the corner to my house I saw flashing lights and people gathered around across the street from my house.  Joey drove slowly and into my drive way and Toni said “Okay girl, have a good night and I’ll see you on Monday at practice” and I nodded and then said “Thanks guys, for everything.”  Joey smiled at me and then he whispered “Hey, make sure that you tell everyone you were with us tonight okay? Just to be safe” then he winked at me and him and Toni looked at each other and smiled as I got off the car. I looked back at Karen and Henry Hill as they pulled out of my driveway, onto the street and watched the red lights of that gold Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme disappear into the night.

I walked towards my house with my shoes in my hand, just then one of the Sheriff’s deputy’s moved his car and that’s when I saw it, what remained of the crappy Dodge Duster that Ruben had driven his cheerleader girlfriend to the dance in.  All the windows, ALL THE WINDOWS were smashed, his windshield wipers were bent up, all four of his tires were not just flat, and they were slashed!  I watched that asshole prick Ruben crying, I mean really crying as the deputy was asking him questions.  I couldn’t believe what Toni and Joey had done, I mean they had really gone to town on this guy’s car, or should I say his older brother’s car as I found out later.  That’s probably why he was crying, he knew he was going to get his ass kicked but that’s just an assumption.  My dad was at the fence talking to another neighbor and they were talking about how there weren’t any street lights on our street and how it was dangerous at night.

I stood there beside my dad looking at that mess of a car and even bigger mess of a prick that drove it there and finally he looked up at me, eyes all red, tears running down his face and I smiled (sarcastically of course) and waved at him as I walked into my house.  That night I went to bed feeling a bit vindicated and not as sorry for myself because I actually had a pretty good time with Toni and Joey that Valentine’s night.  I fell asleep and never thought about Ruben and his crappy car or the cruel joke he played on me, until I wrote this post.  The year after the Dodge Duster incident four streetlights were installed on my street……thanks Toni and Joey, wherever you are!


Part 22……………………….The Eagles, A Rental Truck, Van Helsing and Two Bottles of Beer.

“Got those pretty little straps around your ankles, got those shiny little chains around your heart, you got to have your independence, But you don’t know just where to start” – The Eagles, Those Shoes

Trying to come to terms that Lestat really hadn’t helped me when I needed it and those small gestures I believed he did out of love, I found were only to keep me in his debt and in his emotional grasp.  My therapist held up a mirror to what I believed were feelings of love only to find that I had been poisoned by the emotional vampire I had fallen deeply in love with in my inexperienced youth.  Looking into that mirror was something I had been avoiding for a long time, because I knew the truth about him I just believed wholeheartedly he would change.  But as Terri had explained, realizing this was the easy part, it was going to be a fight both emotionally and physically to break the vampires grip on me.

During our last reconciliation together, which lasted nine months we went through the usual phases of making up, being excited to be together and then it would fade into the same old dull song and dance.  He was excited to be having sex again, well I mean with someone who knew what kind of sex he liked.  I realized the very moment we were done with our reconciliation honeymoon relations I thought to myself “what the fuck am I doing back here again?”  He was, of course okay with it but I began to feel stifled and bored.  The same old routine of getting up in the morning to have coffee, make us breakfast and watch the morning news was getting to be too much trouble.  Terri had said that when I start to feel like anything I do for Lestat is getting to be too much trouble and not worth the effort is when I am already beginning to let go and it was a good thing.

You shouldn’t feel like that with someone you love.  I remember being very confused and thinking to myself why do I feel like this, I love him.  It took a while for it to sink in that I wasn’t in love with Lestat anymore, I was an addict to his presence in my life.  WTF?! Yep, it was true because I had to recall when it was that I was happy and I mean truly happy being with him and it was over ten years ago.  This last reconciliation was in December of 2017, which meant I had to spend the holiday’s alone (well not alone but you get the idea) like I had for the past twenty years.  So I began 2018 unsure of Lestat’s presence in my life and constantly wondering why I was still allowing him to stay.  And questioning whether I was still really in love with him (see how much I doubted myself?).

I’m going to share something one of my uncles told me one time, his name was Manuel, he was my mom’s brother.  I had just separated from my ex-husband I hadn’t met Lestat yet and I was talking to him about my impending divorce.  He asked me “Do you still love your husband? Do you feel like you should try and fix things with him, for you and the boys?”  I quickly (and I do mean quickly) responded and said “no, I feel nothing I’m numb and all I feel towards him is hate and believe me I don’t even want to hate the dude, I just don’t want to give him any power over me at all.”  He took a sip of coffee and smiled, he stayed quiet for a second and then said “Well the fact that you know feeling anything towards him, even hate is giving him power over you then you’re already ahead of the game.  If you feel hate for him, it will go away and one day you will only feel indifference and that’s when you know you are done.  But hate, animosity and sheer rage are sometimes the gateway to feeling nothing at all, as long as you don’t act on those emotions.  When you get to the hate phase you know indifference isn’t far behind and then you know you’re on your way to moving on.”

Now my uncle was a good, kind and generous man and I have always wondered how he came by such sage advice?  I mean one would have to think that he had to go through something serious to have learned such a hard lesson, right?  But I have always remembered that conversation with him.  I mentioned this to my therapist, and she agreed with his message just not quite how he said it but she explained why.  She said that there are stages of emotions one goes through and anger, hate, resentment are some of them but the first one is mourning.  I thought to myself, mourning? Are you serious?  What the fuck do I have to mourn?  Of course after she explained it, it all made sense.  Even though I was now beginning to accept that I was no longer in love with Lestat as well as that I am an addict to whatever it was we had I also had to mourn the loss of my relationship, losing the dream of being with the man that I believed (at one time) was the love of my life.

I went through weeks of trying to figure out my feelings all the while dealing with Lestat being back in my life.  And here’s the kicker, it was easier to pretend with Lestat than to try and make it work, go figure?  Maybe because trying to make it work was exhausting to the point where I wanted to fucking kill him.  Pretending made it easier not to care, not to worry about his feelings, how he felt and it made it easier to dismiss a lot of shit he did and said.  It was easier to not feel jealousy, not care that he had to go home early, and not care whether or not his businesses were doing well or how he felt physically.  That’s when I think he began to sense something was wrong. It also made it easier to push back, like I did when I told him I thought I was smarter than both him and his wife.   In the past I would have never, ever even thought about telling him something so controversial.  That’s when I realized when I was actually, deeply in love with him I’d allow him get away with all kind of shit, threats of leaving me, telling me he didn’t promise me anything, standing me up when we had plans, not answering my phone calls, telling me he had to use two condoms because he didn’t want “me” to get him sick, all the things narcissists use to manipulate their prey.

All that came back in a flood of emotions, and it made me blind rage angry!  And that’s when I began to push back, and I saw how he wouldn’t fight with me as much or he’d be the one to say I’m sorry.  Or if we did fight I would be determined to leave and he’d apologize and ask to come back (he’d always be the one to ask to come back). In therapy I discovered that emotional vampires will usually leave when they don’t get their way.  But Terry said because he already knew no one else was going to treat him and give him what I did that’s why he’d keep coming back.  She also said I need to break that cycle in order to get away from him and finally leave for good.  But that didn’t mean that he didn’t get his jabs in every so often like when the Eagles came to El Paso in 2015, I had mentioned that I wanted to go when it was announced a year before they would be coming to town.

Of course that’s his favorite band and up until then mine as well.  He said he would try to see if he could go with me, if not he’d get me tickets so I could go with my middle son who is a musician.  As the concert drew closer he kept telling me that the only tickets left were super expensive (yeah the mofo has a goddamned Corvette, a “vacation” house in San Antonio he could have easily afforded $150 tickets). So the concert came and went and “we” didn’t go, or so I thought.  One afternoon I was at his office and saw he had a ticket stub framed and on his desk.  I picked it up and looked at it while he was in his workshop grabbing us a couple of beers and as he walked in he saw what I was looking at.  As I looked up at him he stopped dead in his tracks and almost turned white.  I stood there just, holding the small picture frame with the ticket stub in it.  My blood boiled underneath my skin, my fangs began to slowly come out and my breathing became labored and I calmly askes him “Did you go to the Eagles concert?”

He walked towards me with the bottles of Budweiser in his hands and he put them down on the desk as he grabbed me from my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes and said “I did go” and then I asked him “Did you go alone?” and he let out a loud sighed as if he knew that whatever answer he was going to give me wasn’t going to be the right one.  He finally said “No, I didn’t go alone, you know who I went with” as he walked back to sit down on the leather couch.  My grip on the picture frame got tight as I began to set it down next to the bottles of beer on his desk.  But right before I did, he turned to sit on the couch and I threw the picture frame at him as hard as I could.  I mean I hadn’t tried so hard to throw something that fast since I played softball in junior high.

I saw everything in slow motion, the frame flying through the air, Lestat slowly sitting down and then looking up as the frame missed his head by inches, it hitting the beige wall behind him, glass and wood shattering into pieces, flying in all directions around him.  If anyone’s ever seen the movie Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman, there’s a scene where he and Dracula face off and they finally see each other for who they are for the very first time, two monsters.

Van Helsing

Van Helsing turns into a huge, menacing (albeit handsome) black werewolf and Dracula turns into a grotesque flying monster that he’s been hiding underneath his smooth talking handsome facade.  That’s exactly what that very moment felt like, Lestat and his creation staring each other down, in an anger filled the room.  He quickly got up from the couch and he yelled at me “what the fuck?!  What did you want me to do, leave my wife home while I went to the concert alone?  Don’t you think she was going to ask why I wasn’t taking her?!”  I saw that there was nothing left of the ticket stub that he had carefully preserved in the small picture frame.  The impact and glass had shattered not just the frame and glass but the paper ticket stub and it lay in pieces on his office floor.

I stood there shaking with rage, my cold heart dead silent.  Lucky for me Charlene (my brain) was awake and in good spirits ready to respond.  I looked up at him and yelled at his dumb ass “If you didn’t want me to know you went to the Eagles concert with your insipid wife you shouldn’t have framed the goddamned ticket stub and put it here on your desk where you know I would eventually see it!  Second, YES YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO TAKE HER BECAUSE YOU’VE TOLD ME OVER AND OVER SHE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE THE EAGLES! I KNOW ALL SHE LISTENS TO SELINA GOMEZ AND ONE DIRECTION LIKE THE FUCKING MENTAL MIDGET SHE IS!!! AND THAT YOU WERE GOING TO TRY AND TAKE ME!!!”  I could see the confusion on his face because I had never, and I do mean never displayed any kind of anger like I did that day in front of him or towards him.  He started to walk towards me and I stepped back and said “You are a lying piece of shit you know that?  You told me the tickets were too expensive and that ticket stub was for a $350 ticket (fifth row seats no less) you bought $700 worth of tickets for you and that idiot you call a wife to go and see a band you told me you wanted to see WITH ME!!”

I looked at him and then said “I hope to hell it was worth your time and money asshole!” then he said “she didn’t even enjoy it, she was bored the entire time” and I turned to get my purse to leave and said “Good, it sounds like that seems to be the theme of your entire marriage, BORING, but it makes me wonder, who’s bored of who?!” His expression changed drastically and appeared even more confused at how I was acting (or should I say reacting). Then I remembered that I had parked the rental car I had inside his office gates, actually it was a brand spanking new 2015 Ford F-150.  I had a rental car because I was getting my car fixed, it needed to be painted because some stupid lady tried to pass me at a stop light with her Jeep and scraped the back fender of my Ford Fusion.  I asked him to open the gate and he just said “no.”  I responded with “open the fucking gate Lestat or I swear I’m going to leave whether you open it or not!”  He smirked and said “I’d like to see you try,” I think he realized at that very moment maybe he shouldn’t have said what he did because I picked up one of the bottles of beer from his desk and threw it at him.

It flew past him and straight into the doorway leading to his workshop, beer and glass splashing all over the door the filing cabinet and his drafting table.  He looked at me and sat down on his desk chair, crossing his arms in defiance.  I got my purse, picked up the remaining bottle of beer and walked out as I looked for the keys to that beautifully polished rental truck in his driveway.  I unlocked the truck and got in, he stood at the back door to his shop and looped the keys to the gate through his fingers as a taunt.  I sat there not once taking my eyes off of him, opened the bottle of beer, drank half and opened the window, threw the bottle against his building and started the truck.  It was almost as if fate was egging me on because as soon as I started the truck the satellite radio came on and Alanis Morissette’s song “You Oughta Know” came on, the soundtrack for what I did next.  I put the truck in reverse, he heard me rev up that Ford eight cylinder engine and his eyes got wide as he began to run towards the truck.  Right then and there I put my brand new black patent leather high heel on the gas. I knew there was no one in back of the truck or the driveway behind the chain link fence doors he’d padlocked when I arrived, and I hit that pedal.  I heard the tires screech and that truck had no problem taking down those two padlock chained doors while I backed all the way out of his driveway.  I could hear the fence doors hitting the tailgate, then the bumper and finally the concrete. I put the truck in drive, dragging the two doors a good twenty feet or so into the street because one caught on the edge of the bumper, making bright orange sparks in the evening twilight.  They finally came loose and I saw him in my rear view mirror walking towards the mess that remained of his fence.  I think he knows who won that argument that day.

My phone rang incessantly for two hours after that little incident but I didn’t answer, and oddly enough I didn’t cry either.  Stay tuned for Part 23……..


Friday Post…..I’m Tired Too…

I’m going to follow suit on Tater’s recent post about being tired.  When I read his post he said he wanted to rant but was too tired to do so, instead he wrote a short post about the things that he’s tried about today, so I thought I would do the same except mine is a bit more self-absorbed because of the following:

I have a story I’ve been telling about a real life situation regarding myself and a certain emotional sucking vampire and I’m tired of writing about him, myself and the anguish he’s put me through.  My story about him is almost coming to an end and I’m both relived and worried.  Relived that it’s been going on six months since I’ve last seen or heard from him and there’s nothing that I want more than to finally move on and leave him behind and worried that after I’m done I’ll have nothing to write about.  For twenty years my life has been entangled with his for better or worse, mostly worse who am I kidding here?  But nonetheless I’ve been connected to this selfish man and it has taken up a lot of my time both physically and emotionally.

The reason I started this blog was because it was suggested by my therapist, she believed it would be cathartic and I would be able to unveil his narcissism to the world without revealing who he is and what he’s done without naming names.

But I’m tired of the ghost of his presence living in my life, dealing with the aftermath of what I consider to be the equivalent of the Titanic of relationships and the wake of crap he’s left behind.  I’m tired of writing about him, reliving everything I’ve gone through because of him.  I’m tired of trying to find “positive” things to fill the void of time I have to deal with now that he’s not here.  I’m tired of this entire mess period, and I just want to move on but as my therapist put it, I can’t move on until I finish this journey, writing about him and cut all ties with him metaphorically of course because physically he’s gone.  Emotionally not so much, but I’m sure that will take some time.

In the mean time there are a lot of things I wish for, so I decided to write some of those “wishes” down.

Here are the things I wish:

  1. I wish unicorns were real.
  2. I wish the lady in the cubicle next to mine didn’t listen to Mexican oldies.
  3. I wish that the receptionist in our office didn’t say “epcept” instead of except.
  4. I wish Lestat’s dick would fall off.
  5. I wish his fat ugly wife would die in a fiery crash on I-10 where her or her car were unrecognizable.
  6. I wish I didn’t wish the one above, I still wish his dick would fall off though.
  7. I wish my therapist wasn’t so good at telling me the brutal honest truth but I suppose I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.
  8. I wish I was stronger.
  9. I wish Jeffery Dean Morgan would walk into my office and propose to me.
  10. I wish I were a hit woman and get paid to make bad people’s lives a living hell, because I can do that without getting paid but a girl has to make a living right?
  11. I wish I didn’t like (okay LOVE) chocolate croissants so much.
  12. I wish I could kick the campuses parking attendant’s ass for giving out tickets just to meet her stupid quota, her name is Shirley and she deserves a good ass kicking.  She thinks her ticket book is a revolver and wears it in a holster like a gunfighter, ugh.
  13. I wish I could mainline tequila, I’m a lightweight I get drunk on champagne vinegar.
  14. I wish my knee wasn’t so fucked up so I could take kickboxing (and be a hit woman with what I learned in kickboxing).
  15. I wish I could be in a flash mob dance scene.
  16. I wish just once, I could drive down I-10 like Burt Reynolds in the Smokey & the Bandit movie and get to work in less than five minutes, swerve into my parking space all cool and shit and walk into my office with aviator sunglasses on and go to work like that was what I do every day.
  17. I wish my doctor wasn’t married because he’s a cutie and grrrrrrr.
  18. I wish I could afford to take a spa day, all I can do right now is give myself a clay mask and have a glass of wine sitting in my back yard listening to Rocco and Jerry my neighbor’s dogs bark.
  19. I wish I could meet each and every one I’ve met here in the blogosphere. Because these people are wonderful!

This is the Huntress915 over and out.


Part 21………………..Turning the Tables and Mind Fucking the Emotional Vampire

“You don’t know right from wrong, well the love we had is gone, so blame it on your lying, cheating, cold dead beating, two-timing and double dealing, mean mistreating, loving heart”-Patty Loveless, Blame It On Your Heart            

The idea that I had insinuated I didn’t believe he was as smart as I was really weighed heavy on his mind.  He said he knew I was more intelligent than his wife (wow that was a real shocker *sarcasm intended*) but he though we were on the same page on most everything we talked about.  I said I knew his wife couldn’t even come close to anything I’ve done or accomplished and I added………. “yes, yes I am smarter than your stupid, six time certification failing, no backbone, financially dependent, overweight, lazy eyed, horse faced, fake blonde, colored contact lens, denim skirt, croc wearing wife.”  He asked me again if I honestly believed he wasn’t as smart as I was (by this time I was exhausted of the subject) and I said “yes.”

“What the fuck!?!” he said out loud, then he looked at me with an intensity, I can only describe as a wolf eyeing its prey.  We had this conversation while he was at my house one afternoon after work.  He had gotten up off the couch, I looked up at him, slowly got up from the couch myself and looked up into his now fifty-five year old eyes and said “what do you want me to tell you?”  He’s 6’1 so he’s a lot taller than I am and I had to really look up to look him square in the eye.  His breathing became heavy with anger and he said “do you really believe that you’re smarter than I am?” As I looked deep into his eyes that were now filled with animosity and confusion, for a moment I found myself back in time, remembering when I thought he was the love of my life….

When I first moved into the house I’m in now, he was very happy because he didn’t have to drive all the way to Fabens to see me on a Saturday.  I had moved out of my mother’s house and back to the town where I had sworn I would never live in again because my middle son was two years away from graduating high school and he didn’t want to change schools.  So what did I do? I found a two bedroom, one bath apartment and paid $185 a month in rent so my son could finish high school with his friends.  That meant that I lived 29 ½ miles from El Paso, and it also meant I couldn’t see Lestat as often.  So he decided that it would be easier for him to drive to my house and spend the entire day with me.  Now, I’m going to be fair here and mentioned the couple of times he was actually helped me, and moving into this apartment was one of them.

The apartment was in a quadraplex and it was big for being a two bed, one bath and when I finally had found it and showed it to him, he was not pleased.  It had a good sized kitchen and the bedrooms were adequate but it didn’t have any light fixtures, or mini blinds and the linoleum in the living room was “supposedly” new but it was rolling up from the corners.  He turned and looked at me and said “I can’t let you live here, not with this place looking like shit” and I said to him, this is all I can afford right now.  He kissed me and said “I’m going to fix this place up for you, but you can’t move in until I do.”  I felt that warm sensation one feels when they’re in love and I kissed him back, hugged him as tight as I could said thank you.  It took him three days to fix up the apartment and I helped as much as I could.  He bought tile (actual tile not rolled linoleum) and installed it in the entire living room.  He put mini blinds in all seven windows, installed ceiling fans in the living room and both bedrooms.  As he was installing the mini blinds in the kitchen and he looked at the stove the apartment came with and he said “does that thing even work?” and I turned and tried to light all the burners and only two came on.

He went back to installing the blinds and when he was done we sat down to have lunch, he had bought pizza and all of us (including youngest boys) and sat at the kitchen table and ate.  He looked at me and asked what I planned to use for a fridge since the apartment didn’t come with one.  I said I would use an ice chest for now and I would try and find a used one when I could afford it.  The boys finished their food and went into the bedroom to unpack.  He turned to look at me and said “I have an idea, you need to go to Lowes and apply for credit.  Buy a refrigerator, a microwave, stove, blender and toaster and I’ll make the payments.”  I got up and sat on his lap at the kitchen table and hugged him, I couldn’t kiss him enough.

That Sunday my mom and I went to Lowes to see if I could put Lestat’s plan into action, of course I didn’t qualify for the Lowes credit card.  But my mom did, she said she’d do it I told her he would give me the payment and then I’d give it to my mom so she could pay off the account, she agreed.  I had a new fridge, stove, microwave, blender and toaster in my refurbished apartment.  He also painted the living room and kitchen.  I lived there for two years and four months before I found a house in the city, I couldn’t get out of that one and a half horse town fast enough.  He helped me move from the apartment into the rental home, and when we left the apartment he took down the ceiling fans and installed them in the rental house.  I mean technically there didn’t belong to the property, they were mine.  This was when I still believed he loved me, when I thought that if I waited until he was ready he’d want to be with me.

Back to the “conversation” he and I were having……his face turned hard, his body language spoke volumes and I just stood there eye to eye with him not backing down from what I had just said.  He said to me “I can’t believe you actually think that way about me?”  I yelled at him and said “Are you fucking serious? You have to be completely devoid of any perception of our relationship not know that I’ve changed, that I no longer see you the way I use to!”  Now, I also have to explain that Lestat came from a very successful family, he’s one of seven sibling’s six boys and one girl.  His extended family (cousins, uncles etc.) also consisted of successful businessmen, almost all in general construction.  And he was in business with his oldest brother, and one of his brothers in the FBI so my verbalizing that I didn’t think he was as intelligent as I was hit his ego hard.

But like everything in our relationship I was doomed to have to explain exactly how and why, which got old fast.  I had spent the entirety of our twenty year relationship having explaining a lot to him, and I mean A LOT!  For instance, he couldn’t follow a movie that had different timelines, like the Amazon series Man in the High Castle.  It has alternate timelines and I can follow the episodes without any issues.  But for Lestat, I had to explain what was going on, who the characters were and what they were doing, more than once.  That series goes back and forth into different alternate times in American history, and he’d sit there next to me and say “I’m totally lost, what’s going on?” So needless to say we only watched the first season because I got tired of trying to explain the plot and therefore I wasn’t enjoying it because of his inability to understand.

Also, if a movie had subtitles (God forbid the fucking movie had subtitles!) that was an entire clusterfuck of explanation or should I say translation.  I’m a fast reader so subtitles for me aren’t an issue, I can read as fast as the titles come on screen and understand whats being said.  But watching a foreign movie with Lestat was excruciatingly painful, with the same “I’m lost lets watch something else” comment.   I’d agree and then go back and watch the foreign film alone, in peace no translating, no explaining no teaching him anything.  I can also speak and read Spanish (that’s a given) so I can understand some Italian, Portuguese and French in films because they are all romance languages and some of the verbiage is similar.

By the time we had the conversation of do you think you’re smarter than I am, I was tired of all his shortcomings.  Now I am not by any means a narcist, self-absorbed, I don’t think highly of myself nor do I try to compare myself to anyone or diminish anyone else’s accomplishments.  Also I not saying that someone that can’t understand foreign films or follow a film with alternate timelines is stupid, hell my boys are that way sometimes especially with foreign films (I think it’s a guy thing).  But being in a relationship with a self-absorbed, self-serving, narcissistic emotional vampire, I felt the need to defend myself and to cut him off at the knees both emotionally and egotistically.  Not my best personal moment ever but when you have to be the tutor/teacher to a grown ass man in his mid-fifties all the fucking time ones patience can wear agonizingly thin.  Coming to terms with what I had discovered in therapy I had no clue as to how to deal with life without Lestat, so I didn’t know if I should push the envelope any farther than I already had.  Yes I had realized that he turned out to be an emotional sucking, narcissistic, selfish, womanizing asshole (I’m pretty sure that is the exact definition for him).  I felt a void already growing even though I hadn’t cut ties completely with him.  At this point in my life Prince Charming and Carlos were still MIA (bastards).

Then one day my therapist asked me why felt the need (in the early stages in my relationship with Lestat) to compare myself to his wife?  Because I had, don’t ask me why it was just always there in the back of my mind.  I would constantly think to myself “why can’t he leave her? What is it about her that he just can’t file for divorce?”  My therapist asked me to define her the way I saw or felt about her so I did.   I remember distinctly feeling a bit uncomfortable because what was my therapist going to think of me if I described her?  Would she think me shallow and insecure? I hesitated and she looked at me, her eyes trying to find what I was feeling.  She spoke softly and said “What’s wrong? It’s not like you haven’t told me what you think of her, why is it so hard to describe how you feel about her?”  She was wearing a light pink Channel style suit, with white high heels and a beautiful string of pearls that delicately hung around her neck.  She sat on her pink Queen Anne chair (she likes pink) and had her hand to her temple, looking at me waiting for me to answer.

I cleared my throat and I said “I don’t have a hard time describing her, what I have a hard time doing is being nice about describing someone I don’t even know.”  She leaned forward and put her arms on her knees and said to me “I’m not asking you to be nice about your description about her, I’m asking you to describe how you think of her.”  I told her that I had always felt that somehow I wasn’t as good as his wife was, therefore that’s why he didn’t have the balls to leave her.  But as time went by I realized that not only was I a better person, I was a better woman in every aspect.  I got up off the chair I was sitting in and walked to the plate glass window that faced the street, and as I looked down at the people making their way through their day from the third story, unbeknownst to them that at that very moment I wanted to fling fat ass Fiona out that very window even if she wasn’t even there.  My therapist must have sensed what I was thinking because she said “do feel like physically hurting Fiona?” I turned back and said “all the fucking time, but it’s really not her fault the one I should fling out of this window is Lestat”  That’s when she said (I’m going to call her Terri because she needs a name) “now we’re getting somewhere” and I walked back to the chair I had been sitting in and sighed loudly.  Terri asked me to elaborate about what I had just said, and I told her that after twenty fucking years of waiting and crying after all the anguish and heartbreak Lestat put me through it was him, not his wife that had done this to me.

She began to write on her pad and then looked up at me and said “so now that you know it’s not Fiona, do you still feel the same about her?”  I laughed and said “of course I fucking do.  I never said I didn’t hate her very existence I said it wasn’t her fault.”  She looked at me and then told me she was going to explain why I felt the way I did.  She began by telling me that although I knew it was Lestat and his inability to make a decision, a decision we all knew he wasn’t going to make to begin with.  She said I associated all the bad feelings I had about him with reasons why he wouldn’t get a divorce.  She said that I blamed his wife, kids and business as to why he wouldn’t just get a divorce and marry me.  Which is true, the motherfucker told me when he went back to Fiona he was doing it “for the kids.”  Then it was until his kids graduated from high school, then it was after he settled his business and then it was………..all fucking bullshit!

She said that he used his family to keep me at bay so I wouldn’t keep asking him if he was going to get a divorce.  She said it was normal for me to feel that way about his family and that she was glad I realized that it was all him and only him to blame.  I told her I knew this a while back but didn’t want to accept it, she asked me to explain what I meant.  I told her that he was going to buy a house in San Antonio “for his kids” so he didn’t have to pay rent for his daughter and so his son could rent out his home, I knew he was never going to be with me.  Not really be with me because for the asshole prick to go and buy a house in San Antonio so his kids didn’t have to pay rent was bullshit, he was buying a 3200 square foot home with a pool in San Antonio so he and his ugly, fat, repugnant wife could go and spend the holidays in “their” house without worrying about staying a hotel room or with their son.  I had also told her that I had finally asked him to give me a straight answer about us, about if he ever saw us together and that he said no because he was afraid of losing half of his assets.

She stopped writing in her pad and looked up at me and asked “he actually answered you?”  I said that he had and that’s when the realization that Lestat had played me for twenty years hit me, and it hit me hard.  Stay tuned for part 22……


Part 20…….The Emotional Vampire and the Dysfunctional Addiction Conundrum.

“And after all these years, I figure it’s time to say goodbye, I’m doing you a favor baby, I will not help you live a lie”- Don Henley, You Don’t Know Me At All

His annoying habits had begun to take its toll on me and after years of counseling I realized that it wasn’t so much that I was in love with Lestat, I was addicted to the dysfunctional relationship we had built over the years.  My counselor made me realize this one day during a two hour session.  It’s not like I didn’t know that I deserved better, I did but for some twisted, toxic reason I kept going back to Lestat time after dysfunctional time.  And that was probably because I was somewhat comfortable with how our relationship had evolved after two decades of on and off chaotic relations.  I knew what he liked, his moods, his interests, his vulnerabilities etc., just like he knew mine, well some of them anyway.  My state of mind at that point was it became too tedious to start from scratch all over again with someone new, especially given the online dating disasters I had experienced.  Along with my dysfunctional relationship with an emotional vampire I was also an emotional cutter.

For unknown reasons I’d look at his kids and ugly wife’s Facebook pages only to find family pictures of him with his family posing as happily as can be and finding myself looking at this from the outside in.  Then one day, my counselor asked me why I did that?  I didn’t have an answer for her, she asked me to really think about why I would want to look at him happy with his legitimate family when it hurt me so bad.  After a couple of minutes I told her that it was probably to see what I wasn’t as good as, why he chose to stay in a marriage he said he didn’t want to be in but stayed for the sake of his kids.  She then asked me to find a picture of them from one of their social media pages on my iPad, and I did.  She studied it for a good five minutes in silence, her eyes moving back and forth on the family photos and finally sighed.  She said “Okay look at this” as she pointed to a picture of them standing in front a Christmas tree all smiling and looking like they belonged in a picture frame advertisement photo that comes with the frame when you buy it.

“Look at this picture of him with his family” as I did she told me “YOU are not only good enough for him, you are better than he is and everything you think you want from him isn’t even real.  HE is the one that isn’t good enough for you” I couldn’t help but cry as she’s telling me this and I for a split second thought to myself, she’s only telling me this because I was paying her to.  But I quickly realized she was right, he wasn’t good enough for me.  Then she continued and said “what you see there is fake, it’s a distorted, dishonest, and fictitious presentation to the rest of the world, he has to pretend to be a happy loving father and devoted husband, which obviously he’s not.  Unbeknownst to his seemingly perfect family, he’s had a girlfriend for twenty years, he’s a cheat and a liar.  He has to keep up appearances and what’s worse is that his family is so disconnected from who he really is they don’t know the real Lestat.  And you, you can actually be happy if you truly want to be.  But you can’t be until you get rid of this overweight, over inflated egotist who has this hold over you which I can’t understand.”  She handed me a tissue and as I wiped away the tears she asked me “what hold does he have on you that you can’t walk away from him?  What is it about him that you just can’t live without? It certainly isn’t money because he hasn’t helped you financially.  It’s not that he’s kind and loving where you can say he has treated you so good you are afraid to lose him.  It isn’t that he’s committed to you and only you, because he’s not.

What is it that you can’t see yourself without this lying, cheating, bloated narcissist? Is he that good in bed?”  I started to laugh and she asked me why I found that so funny  I told her that he hadn’t been good in bed for years and that I have no real reason for feeling like I’m not good enough for him.  She sat back in her dusty rose pink Queen Anne chair and put her pen to her lips and said “so why are you still dragging this dead weight around?”  I responded with I had no fucking clue and she said to me that I needed to just walk away and go through the process of grieving my relationship with Lestat and move on with my life.  After all I had no reason to hang on to the insensitive motherfucker and there was no commitment from him and after twenty fucking years there was no way he was going to make up his mind.

She pointed out that he wouldn’t make up his mind because I had made it so easy for him not to, and that really pissed me off.  Because she was right, I had done everything in my power to give him everything he wanted from me that he never had to earn it.  He never had to earn my love, my trust or my devotion I gave it all away because I was in love with his stupid ass and I never made him work for it.  He on the other hand made me work tirelessly over and over for his time and affection.  This made me angry I mean the Incredible Hulk type angry, and my counselor suggested I start to run, walk or take up kickboxing to channel my anger and to help me find a way to make my escape which let’s face it wouldn’t be easy.  My counselor had made me realize I wasn’t in love with Lestat anymore, I was addicted.  But to be honest I’m not sure which is worse, because basically she’s telling me being addicted isn’t as bad as being in love, wtf?!

That day Lestat had asked if he could stop by my house after work, and I reluctantly said yes and he asked me if I’d like ice cream or something sweet.  I told him I didn’t feel like it, and he said “are you sick? It’s not like you to turn down ice cream” and I thought to myself so now it starts the separation of emotional dependence and my last and final attempt at relationship rehab.  He came over and stayed his obligatory hour and fifteen minutes and we watched the same old programs, Jeopardy and M*A*S*H.  Just a side note I love MASH, I use to watch it with my grandfather as a kid, but didn’t quite get the humor until I became an adult.  But somehow watching it with him became stale and uninteresting, but when I watched it alone I couldn’t get enough of Radar, BJ, Hawkeye, Winchester and Col. Potter, I was in army heaven with this show.  The very next morning he called me to tell me he was on his way for our daily coffee session before we both went to work.  The routine of our relationship was beginning to weigh heavy on me, I would get up every morning at 5am to be ready by 6am so I could spend about half an hour to forty-five minutes sitting in my living room having coffee and watching the news. But not before getting manhandled as soon as he walked in the door, messing up my makeup and lifting my dress so he could feel my legs and his insisting we have sex before we went to work because it was “sexy and hot.”  I’d refuse then he’d get mad at my refusal and I’d say “you don’t have to come over for coffee you know?”  He’d give in and then I’d have to sit there listening to him bitch and complain about everything that was wrong with our country, how medical advancements aren’t really “advancements” and how he hated the New England Patriots and the Dallas Cowboys but if he had to choose to root for one he’d go with the Patriots because he hated the Cowboys more (I have to agree with him on this one, just sayin’).

I could hear my counselor’s voice in my head telling me to begin to tell him I was busy when he’d ask if he could come over, or when he’s plan to come over all day on a Saturday.  She said I needed to stop having coffee with him every morning that I needed to break the habits he was so comfortable with.  So I did, and at first he was fine with it because he thought I was sick or needed to sleep a bit more.  But after a week he began to ask why, and I just said to him that I was tired of getting up that early and making him coffee and breakfast.  He did get hurt because I could hear it in his voice.  Let’s face it I catered to him a lot because I knew he didn’t get treated like that at home and for a long time it pissed me off that his wife was so careless with how he felt.  But then I realized that was his fault, he got her use to not caring about anyone but herself and her ugly kids.  Just like it was my fault that he was careless with my feelings because I got him use to that kind of treatment from me.

Before long I’d begin to debate his ideas and opinions and he’d begin to ask me why I was arguing with him.  I told him that we weren’t arguing we were debating, and he said it sounded like arguing to him.  I told him what he didn’t know about a lot of things could fit into the Grand Canyon and then he accused me of saying I thought he was stupid.  I laughed and referenced an article about how couples who are married and one is more interested in constant learning and the other being completely happy with their life no matter how stagnant, the “intellectual” one was bound to begin to think like the stagnated partner.  I could see that he began to get annoyed and he said “So you think I’m starting to become like my wife?” and I said “of course you are, your opinions are so draconian in nature you don’t even realize how you sound.  Are you now sitting and watching Saved by the Bell together or what the fuck?”  He got up and said to me “I resent that you think you’re smarter than me.”  Which let’s face it that thought never, ever crossed my mind.  I thought of us as intellectual equals because he was/is very smart (in business, not in life hello?) even though he never went to college I admired him for all he had accomplished in his business life, running his company and how he kept turning his success into even more successful ventures.  But he had built this monster I had inside and it was bound to one day bite him in the ass, and that day it did.  So I turned to him and as narcissistic and egotistical as it sounded I told him “of course I don’t think that I’m smarter than you are” his face softened and I could see him relax a bit and that’s when I thought I’d mentally castrate him and finished by saying “I know I’m smarter than BOTH of your combined.”  Stay tuned for part 21……


Part 19……The Emotional Vampire’s Two Condom Rule and other Personal Disasters.

“I hold onto this pride because these days it’s all I have and I gave you my best and we both know you can’t say that” – Little Big Town, Better Man

So, on to more about my nightmare online dating adventures. There were some that were not bad, they actually went okay but well those, those guys probably thought I was too much trouble because I never heard back from them…..at all.  One particular one comes to mind, his name was Luis and he contacted me and we began talking for about a week then he asked me out.  He took me to dinner at a German restaurant off of Viscount and I-10 and I actually liked the atmosphere and the food.  It was a German pub type feel and I felt very comfortable there and Luis and I talked about everything.  I thought this guy had potential which was, let’s face it, something I hadn’t thought of with fake US Marshal Rick and Oompa Loompa David.  So after dinner he walked me to my car and we hugged and I thought he’s for sure he’ll call me tomorrow as I drove off feeling a bit more positive than the previous online dating experiences.

I sent him a text later on that night to thank him again for dinner and a very pleasant evening and he had sent me a short and not so sweet “No problem” response and as I stared down at my phone I wondered if he thought the date was a bust.  I waited for him to text me the next week and nothing, so I gave up on Luis after another text I sent him and got no response.  I thought to myself alright then we’re moving on, Sharleen (my brain, remember?) had finally said to me forget about it, don’t dwell and move on down the line.  Which I did, so my next online date didn’t even get to the twenty minute mark because this guy, whose name was Sergio was all sweet and a gentleman on the phone and via text.  I got my hopes up again telling myself I have to remain positive but that all went down the drain when he said we should have a drink first and then we’d plan a proper date.  I agreed because I kept getting encouragement from my friends even after the horrendous dates I had already experienced.

We agreed to meet at Pelican’s, a restaurant and bar on the eastside of town.  He asked what I would be wearing so he could recognize me (even though I sent him a picture) when I walked it, and I told him.  I got ready and once again I got all dressed up and put on my best everything.  As I drove to the restaurant I began to feel a bit nervous and thought about him and everything he had told me.  He was an employee in management with El Paso Electric, divorced father of three, a bachelors in information technology from UTEP and had just bought a house in the Briargate estates, close to where I lived and I began to feel a bit intimidated.  But I tried to shake off that feeling because I was getting ahead of myself and didn’t want to overpower my confidence with intimidation over a guy I hadn’t even met yet.  As I walked from my car I tried to look as cool and confident as possible, trying not to trip over my own heels.

I got to the front door of the restaurant and he had told me to ask for him so they could direct me to his table, and that’s what I did.  As I followed the waiter to the table my hands began to sweat and my breathing began to get labored as I tried to remember that this was just first date/drinks.  I walked towards a very good looking older gentleman (he was 56 and I was 45 at the time) as the waiter motioned with his hand for me to sit down, Sergio looked past me as if looking towards the door.  The waiter left and I looked at him and said “Hi Sergio” and then he looked at me up and down and responded with “Veronica?”  I was taken back as I wondered why he was surprised or what he could possibly be thinking because it’s not like he didn’t know what I looked like because all my pictures on my profile were recent.  I answered “Hi, yes nice to meet you” and stuck my hand out to shake his.

He hesitantly extended his as he still had this confused annoyed look on his face, and I finally cleared my throat and said “Um, is there something wrong?”  As he still held my hand he blatantly said “Well, um yeah.  I thought you’d be younger” and at that very moment I yanked my hand out of his and I responded with “Oh really? And I thought you’d be smarter” and quickly turned around and walked out of the restaurant towards my car.  I am usually a very strong woman, and I can try to contain my emotions but this was a poison arrow aimed directly at my self-confidence and self-esteem, shot there by a careless narcissistic man.  I drove home with tears streaming down my face ruining my makeup.  But by this time I didn’t care as I pulled into my garage with mascara streaking down my cheeks.  I undressed in the darkness of my bedroom and got in to take a shower to scrub myself clean of the Perry Ellis 360 perfume, drowning in embarrassment and anger of what had just transpired because of an insensitive asshole who never even bother to get to know me but judged me on my age.  I cried and screamed as loud as I could as I knew no one would hear me with the shower running as I clung to the slippery tiles of my shower wall.

Finally the anger subsided and I got out of the shower and changed and made myself a cup of tea (paired with a tin, an ENTIRE TIN of Royal Dansk butter cookies, hey those things are the shit) and sat out in my backyard watching the sky turn from a light blue, to a faded purple-orange sunset. I took in the peacefulness of my own little world comforted by hot tea and butter cookies.  That was the very last online date I was on and decided from that night forward I would give up the online dating thing because let’s face it, it’s brutal to be middle aged and trying to date the way millennial’s do.  Even in spite of dating sites that claim to be designed specifically for the older crowd, it’s utter bullshit.  Let’s face it, there are a lot and I do mean a lot of assholes (both men and women) out there especially on this online dating scene.  Soon after I reconciled with Lestat for the fourth-hundred and sixty seventh time (no it wasn’t that many times but it sure as hell fells like) and we began the honeymoon phase of our reconciliation once again.  This phase seemed to get shorter and shorter every time we got back together.

Because of course the emotional vampire will play on the vulnerability of the emotional state of mind and being emotionally weak because of all my online debacles, I allowed him to do so.  Somehow I tried to find his redeeming qualities every time we got back together, I mean after overlooking the fact that one) he was married and two) that he never gave me anything remotely supportive in return and three) by this time around I knew that there was no way I would want him in my life on a full time basis.  In spite of his self-righteous attitude towards me when we would get back together, I’d overlook it, many, many times, case in point.  I had online dates that were disasters, but nothing more disastrous as Lestat’s attitude towards me after the “serious” attempts at relationships while we were apart.  The first thing we’d do when we’d reconcile would be to have sex (hello? It’s a given I think in any relationship) and although I was extremely careful with my other relationships in using protection it would always be a fight with Lestat and his idea of “protection.”

The only two times I had intimate relationships with other men were with Waldo (yuck) and Kyle and that was because I actually dated these men, I never even tried with Jeff because he was “unable” to have sex if you know what I mean.  It wasn’t one night stands or for fun, it was because I honestly believed I might build a long lasting relationship with them.  But as we know Waldo was an idiot and Kyle was transferred to another army base in Fort Campbell.  So for as long as I can remember he would make the most callus comment and that was his explanation as to why he needed to use two condoms (at the same time).   He’d say “I need to be careful because I don’t want you to get me sick” and I would stupidly comply.  Why? Because I was in love with the bastard and I didn’t know any better or realized he was being a complete and total asshole.  But then as my fangs began to grow I began to defend myself against his words and actions, and once when he was all too eager to begin our honeymoon relations, I stopped him and gave him two condoms.  He asked what they were for and I told him that he’d probably been out sleeping with his wife’s friends or her co-workers and God knew where they had been, I told him he probably was still shitting where he ate and I didn’t want him to get me sick.  He stood there, naked in my bedroom and looked at me in shock and bewilderment.  He asked “are you serious?” and I said “yes, no double condom no nooky, that’s the rule.  I mean I’m not the one that goes out to the Brew (his favorite bar) to pick up women so desperate you’ll fuck them in your car, so put those suckers on if you want to get laid.”

This ignited a huge fight, whereas he’d argue his side and then I’d sucker punch him with my logic and I’d tell him what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.  I told him if anyone was going to get him sick it would be one of his wife’s friends and not me, because as previously mentioned, he liked to shit where he ate (remember Moonstruck?).  One of the three friends I had that knew he was married told me one day that I allowed him back in on his terms because this is what worked for me.  She also explained to me that Lestat he wasn’t someone I’d normally be into if I wasn’t in love with him.  She said I didn’t seem him for who or what he was because I would see him through rose colored, love clouded glasses.  I stopped to think about what she had said and tried to figure out if this theory of hers had any merit.  I began some deep inner soul searching and this started with our first encounter when we got together, which consisted of lunch and sex.  I spent the afternoon with him and after a three and a half hours I began to feel that indeed a couple of hours together with this emotional vampire was all I could take.

He began to get on my nerves in insufferable ways, case in point, after years of construction and not using the proper safety equipment his hearing began to deteriorate.  I had to speak louder than usual almost screaming.  I could never whisper anything to him because he couldn’t fucking hear me. When we watched television the volume was so loud one time my neighbor out back called me and asked if I was having a party.   He also had the annoying habit of never and I do mean NEVER letting me finish was I was saying because he’d interrupt, always.  His excuse was because he didn’t want to forget what he was going to say and it pertained to what I was talking about. Did I mention his memory was also fading, for some reason he would tell me he was afraid of getting Parkinson’s disease, I would reassure him that it wasn’t the case, but now I’m not so sure.  But he believed interrupting me would help in telling me what his mind was thinking at that very second so he wouldn’t forget, it did not that shit got old fast.

My patience was coming to an end, I could see it and feel it and so could he.  We’d talk on the phone and he would ask me to hold on to answer the other call (which I suspect would be his wife most of the time) and he would take forever.  And at times he would hang up on me and stupidly I’d call back and he’d apologize.  But then as our relationship began to see its inevitable demise he’d hang up on me and I wouldn’t call back, or if he’d ask if I could hang on I’d say no, to call me back whenever.  Now this worked, God knows why, but I suppose was reverse psychology and I began to feel a sort of disconnect to him and our relationship, which only meant one thing.  I was falling out of love with Lestat the Emotional sucking Vampire.   Stay tuned for part 20…….


Part 18……Unoriginal Vampires, Oompa Loompas and Fake US Marshals; Online Dating Debacles Galore!

“I know who you think you are, sorry I’ve turned you on but now I’m kissing you off, your lines are whiskey and cigarettes. They’re not enough to make me forget”-Halestorm

When I first met Lestat I would get gifts from him for Mother’s Day, Christmas, my birthday and even Easter, yes Easter.  And in turn I would bake his birthday cakes and buy him a shirt or something I thought was meaningful, like a pen set and name plaque for his desk.  Then he told me that he knew I didn’t have much money and that I didn’t need to buy him anything.  Before he began to ask me what I wanted as a gift for Christmas or birthday he would just buy me something he thought I’d like.  For the first ten years or so I suspected he thought he was shopping for his wife because I got clothes that only a goddamned short, fat, matronly English teacher would wear, you know sweaters with appliques and shiny crap all over it.  I never once wore them, but I thanked him very lovingly.

As time went on I could see he began to pay attention to my sense of style and taste in fashion, or so I thought.  For the last couple of years of our relationship I began to get things that pertained to my alma mater (UTEP) and my favorite NFL team (Steelers).  And I thought to myself now he’s paying attention to my likes or dislikes.  He gave me jewelry on two occasions one was for Mother’s Day, he gave me a beautiful gold and diamond heart shaped pendant and for the last Christmas we spent together he actually asked me what I wanted and I told him I wanted a Pandora charm bracelet.

But before then I had gotten a lot of NFL and College swag which I loved, until one day as we sat together and he was looking for a picture on his phone of his dog (I don’t remember why).  As he scrolled that’s when I saw it, a picture of Fiona and his kids in front of their house and that’s when I thought to myself this fat bitch is wearing the very same pullover sweatshirt with a big embroidered UTEP in the front only it was a different color.  Then it was confirmed by another picture he scrolled past of her ugly face with the exact same scarf and beanie except hers was bearing the Green Bay Packers logo and mine was from the Steelers.  Now to some this isn’t a big deal, but I believed that I was unique in so many ways so as not to be lumped in with his idiot wife Fiona.  So what did I do?  I went off on his stupid ass!  I told him that it wasn’t killing two birds with one stone, and what the FUCK was he doing buying her shit like that if he didn’t care for her!  Then the motherfucker actually asked me “Is that bad?”  Before I went off on him again I had to think of an ex-boyfriend of mine that he hated (I mean really hated) and that was Kyle the brilliant Military man and physician, he hated him for being successful and handsome oh and younger than me.

I responded with “So if you knew you had something I had given you for Christmas and you found out I had given Kyle the very same thing you’d be okay with it?”  He looked at me with that deer in the headlights look he gave me only when I’ve caught him in an emotional dilemma that he didn’t have an answer for.  He then looked straight at me and then he said “You’d better not give me what you gave him!”  And then I said to him “I rest my case, one) because I’m not as fat as your wife, two) because I have taste and three) I am sophisticated and classy god dammit so don’t ever fucking do that again!” He couldn’t resist, he asked me if I had given him something that I had gotten Kyle in the past.

Of course I didn’t answer him even though I knew I hadn’t and you know why?  Because I was going to let him wonder about it for weeks to come, I knew him well and this would bother him to no end.  Like the splinter underneath the skin.  I’m not that fucking stupid or insensitive but I wanted him to suffer a bit, of course he forgot about the Him/Kyle question but continued to remind him about not buying me and his wife the same fucking types of gifts every chance I got.

After this little “spat” I took all the shit that he’s given me that was exactly like hers and put in the Goodwill donation bin.  Earlier in our relationship I would have never, ever thrown anything he gave me away.  I’m serious when I say this, up until the last five years of our relationship, I had kept each and every rose and the cards that came with the flowers.  I would cut the buds off the stems, let them dry and I had all of them, fifteen years of dried rose buds in a pretty little treasure box.  Along with the cards, one which said “I will allways love you” yes, that is how he spelled always.  They meant something to me, those things were important somehow because they came from him.  But after this insensitive and ever so stupid and thoughtless gesture, I took all of those dried up flowers and cards and set them on fire on my backyard grill.

As I watched all those, once sentimental items go up in flames that is when I began to feel my heart start to harden, become jaded in ways I never thought possible.  I stood there with lighter fluid in hand, as the smoldering flames consumed the handwritten cards, the words written in ink turning the beautiful card into black-brown ash and disappearing into the wind.  That is when those items turned from something special to just a pile of dead flowers and stupid cards with meaningless words.

During the course of our on and off, dysfunctional relationship, I decided to give online dating a try, because of course in the age of social media this is how people met.  It wasn’t being set up by friends, meeting someone at work, going out to bars or restaurants and hoping to find someone worthy of meeting.  But, I did try and turned out to be a complete disaster.  The very first attempt I was contacted by a guy who claimed he was a US Marshal, and of course I didn’t have any reason not to believe him right? Of course not, but something in the pit of my stomach told me that he may have embellished his occupation.  He had a picture posted on his online profile and one couldn’t really see his face because he had a football helmet on.  He claimed he played for a city football league.  So I thought he’s athletic, something Lestat wasn’t, and he was younger than Lestat, but older than I was.  So I’ll call this lying bundle of shit Rick, and when he’d call me I’d get a “private” or “blocked number’ message on my phone.  Hmm second suspicious thing right?  Yep I agree, but I’m going to go on with my story, it gets better.  Anyway Rick managed to ask to meet me and of course I said yes, so we met and all the prick did the entire time was talk about himself.

He scarcely asked me about what I did, where I was from or why I was on an online dating site but I still gave him the benefit of the doubt, even though I shouldn’t have.  After three weeks of him telling me he was a US Marshal and getting blocked calls on my cell I decided to do a little bit of detective work (it helps having friends in law enforcement).  So what I found was that this loser (yes LOSER) was still married, on his way to a second divorce because his current wife was getting back with her ex-husband, and he seemed to have an M.O (modus operandi) in relationships.  This is what he did; he’d stalk out his target, somehow convince them to marry him, then when that relationship began to go south he’d begin looking for another before the current wife/girlfriend kicked him out of their house and usually she was the one with the money……..yeah total LOSER!

With some arduous detective work (and help from some law enforcement buddies) I also managed to find out that he wasn’t a US Marshal (shocker huh?) and that what he really did was he was a maintenance man in a plastics factory on the eastside of town.  AND he also had more than a few child support legal actions against him so basically his entire paycheck was going towards paying child support.  No wonder he chose women with money or with some money at least because he was fucking idiot.  He bragged about his high school years of playing football (sound familiar?) and that he coached a youth football team as well.  I went to go see one of his team’s games, I took my youngest son with me and it was enjoyable until of course he turned out to be a complete and utter fraud.  So after not getting a phone call or text from him for two days I decided to take things into my hands.  The next time he called I decided to tell him that it was a good idea if we didn’t see each other anymore.

About a half an hour later my doorbell rang, and as I looked through the peephole and saw him standing at my front door, dressed in a suit and overcoat and (get this) a badge clipped to his belt.  I was curious so I opened the door, I mean I could have just let him keep ringing my doorbell until he left.  But I wanted to see what this asshole had to say, so I opened the door.  As soon as he saw me he threw a huge smile my way and that’s when I noticed he had a tooth missing from his right side, the first premolar to be exact.  I mean, how could I have missed this, really?  Anyway he was decked out in his Sunday duds and I stood there at the door and he kept smiling and I finally said “Yes?” and he asked if he could come in and I said no.  He asked why and I said to him “do I need to have a reason why?  No I fucking don’t because it’s my house right?”  His smile quickly disappeared.

He cleared his throat and said “I came right over as soon as I got off the plane I came by to ask you in person why you came to this decision” (yeah plane from where asshole, the corner of 1-10 and Yarbrough?)  I was already in my pajamas because it was fucking 8:45 on a Sunday night and I stood there with my arms crossed and carefully thought of my response.  “Well, Rick, if that is your real name, I came to this decision because I don’t like being lied to.  I think that maybe you need to find yourself someone stupid with money as opposed to me, someone smart but broke.”  He looked at me and asked me “What are you talking about? Lying? What?”  I stared at him up and down and then said to him “yeah, lying. I mean what is it that you’re looking for here, a place to move into?  Just so you know, that isn’t going to happen.  Also I want you to know that impersonating an officer is bad, but impersonating a federal agent that’s even worse.”   Finally even the sarcastic smirk was gone from his face because he must have known that I knew the truth about him.

I told him that I had several friends in local and federal law enforcement (it’s true) and that I had asked one of them in federal law enforcement to look him up and then he actively began to panic.  I threw the kitchen towel I had been holding over my left shoulder and told him that I knew he was still married, that he worked at a plastics plant and what he really did for a living, I mean other than impersonating federal agents that is.  I told him if he didn’t get off my front porch I would call the real cops on him and he could explain to them why he was standing there with a fake federal badge clipped to his belt.  Without a word, he quickly turned around and walked to his 2003 Pontiac Grand Prix and got in, and without looking back he drove away.  I could now feel the cold of that crisp November night and thought to myself as I sighed out loud, man can I pick them or what?

Needless to say Rick the fake US Marshal never bothered me again, thank God.  But that was only one in a long string of losers and miscreants that I encountered in my online dating adventures.  I mean I’m not saying that all the guys on there are bad because they’re not, I met a few who were really nice and potential boyfriend material as a matter of fact.  They just didn’t like or weren’t interested in me.   So on to online date #2, he was from Las Cruces, and I was okay with that because I’m going to give a guy a shot at impressing me no matter where he is from and I hoped that they will do the same for me in return.  So the thing about online dating is that people lie, they lie about who they are, what they do and about their physical appearance.  That I why I only looked at profiles that had pictures on them, but let’s face it even those pictures can be doctored or worse they can be years old and that isn’t what they look like anymore.

I get it, we all want to project our best self but what the fuck is going to happen when you finally meet this person face to face and find that you’ve aged, gained weight and lost your hair?  Come the fuck on Bridget (Bridget Jones Diary) follow the light and get back to reality!  So, onto date #2, we began talking and we talked a lot, I mean A LOT!  Like three weeks into our phone relationship (somehow I felt I should have begun to charge him) and although we talked constantly, not once did he mention wanting to meet me.  What I did was I decided to ask him out on a date, and I even offered to drive to Las Cruces and have dinner over there.  He said yes and we set a day and time to meet.  As the day got closer I began to get a bit more excited because I had seen pictures of him online and he sounded like a truly nice guy.  So that Saturday I got all gussied up in my best, picked out a sexy (but not too sexy) outfit, picked the perfect set of high heeled shoes to go with it and carefully applied my makeup.

As I drove 46 miles to Las Cruces he called me to tell me he was excited to meet me and that he was anxiously waiting for me at the restaurant we picked, the Winery in Mesilla NM.  But that it was super packed and maybe we should go to our second choice, an Italian restaurant off the interstate.  I said that was fine and he said he’d be there in about fifteen minutes.  Meanwhile I was already driving into the parking lot and I told him I’d wait outside the restaurant for him.  We hung up the phone and my hands began to sweat, I hadn’t been this nervous in a long time, since I first met and kissed Lestat actually.  He had described what he was driving and as I saw an SUV similar to what he had described my hands began to sweat.  I saw the driver side door open and this kid jumped out and I thought to myself, aww how sweet his son drove him because he’s nervous…….WRONG!

The little kid jumping out of the driver side door of the Chevy Tahoe was him.  He began to walk towards me and I heard him say my name, “Veronica?”  And I looked at him and I got up from the wooden bench I was sitting at and it got worse as I stood.  I towered over this motherfucker by like two entire feet! Okay maybe not two feet but the guy couldn’t have been more than four foot ten, he only came up to just a bit below my shoulders and I’m 5’4!  He had to lean upwards to kiss my cheek and that’s when it sunk in that this date was going to go very bad.  First of all let me explain as to not make myself sound pretentious or narcissistic in anyway, I don’t have anything against short guys.  But with that said, I am very rarely attracted to guys my height because I love tall men.  I think it has to do with my ex-husband who is one inch shorter than I am and that experience was not a happy one.  So maybe it held over from there but I know what I like and what I want.

We went into the Italian restaurant and they sat us in a small table in the very front of the restaurant facing the road passing by the NMSU (the University) and the waitress took our drink order.  He began to talk and I was already mad because yet again I had been lied to, his fucking profile said he was 5’10 and there was no way this Oompa Loompa was five foot ten inches tall.  So even then I told myself I was going to give him a chance because we had talked over the phone for over three weeks and we had a good rapport.  Then we ordered and I had mentioned to him that dinner was on me, but that didn’t mean sending back the dish he didn’t like and ordering something else……TWICE!  He kept complimenting me on how beautiful I was and how pretty my eyes were and shit like that, which lets face it I hadn’t heard in quite a while.  Then after his fourth glass of wine I asked for the check, as I was already annoyed that he had asked for doggie bags for the food he didn’t like.  Then he made the mistake of telling me he was literally going to take the leftover food home to his dog!

As the waitress brought me the check, I decided I was going to see if the motherfucker would attempt to reach for it.  But he didn’t all he did was order another glass of wine and when the waitress came by with the bottle to pour it into his glass I grabbed the check and told her “Please put that on his tab, I’m not paying for that, thanks” and I walked over to the register to pay for dinner and he followed me (carrying the plastic bags with the food he was talking to his fucking dog) and somehow that annoyed me even more.  He asked me if there was something wrong and I said “David, I’m going to go home now and it was nice to meet you, thanks but no thanks” and I walked out of the restaurant with less dignity than I had prior to getting there.  As I walked out towards my car he followed me, running while holding a plastic bag in both hands and yelled “Does this mean I can’t call you?” I turned and looked at him, didn’t say anything and got in my car and left the parking lot as fast as my Ford Fusion could go.

I got into I-10 headed east and in stunned silence I thought to myself I needed to give up online dating all together because I keep attracting nothing but liars who thought that if they lied on their profiles women would actually overlook these things when meeting them in person.  WE WON’T!  You can’t lie about something like body build or how tall you are, that’s only lying to yourself.  As I drove in the darkness of the Organ Mountains my phone rang, it was David.  I mean what the fuck did this dude want?  Not only did I pay for dinner, which he not once offered to pay for, but then I realized that I told the waitress to put the other two entrees he’d ordered and doggie bagged on a ticket for him to pay for along with the last glass of wine, so maybe that was it.  I let it go to voicemail and he called me five times before I put my phone on silent and drove back into El Paso in disappointment and disheartenment.  Stay tuned for part 19….


Part 17…….There’s a Reason Vampires Can’t See Their Own Reflection.

“I’m here to remind you, of the mess you made when you went away.  It’s not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave me” – Alanis Morissette

There’s a reason that vampires can’t see their reflection, especially emotional vampires because everyone around them will see them differently if they can see themselves being assholes.  It’s all an act, a cover up, a facade of the body and soul they don’t know how to be genuine and they are usually cowards to boot.  Being arrested was to say the least, was one of “the” most humiliating experiences I’ve ever had to go through.  It wasn’t the only time that I felt betrayed by the man that claimed loved me, there were several but somehow I overlooked them because I was still convinced he loved me and I loved him.  One day he suggested that we take a “day off” and we’d go to Mesilla or Las Cruces New Mexico to spend the day where he assumed people wouldn’t recognize him.  I mean I wasn’t hiding, okay yes I was but it wasn’t me that would run in a blind panic at the sign of someone he thought might recognize him.  One day he asked me to take the day off and I was already on my way to work, dressed up and everything but nonetheless I said yes.  I mean after all getting to spend the day with the man I loved sounded much better than a day at work, right?  Wrong, that day I agreed because I missed spending time with him and he suggested we go take in a movie.  So we drove to the Northeast to the theaters over there because I mean who the fuck did either of us know over on that side of town?  Mind you El Paso isn’t a big city, it seems everyone knows everyone else or is related to a friend of a friend.  We get to the theater and we pick a movie, he gives me the money to buy popcorn and drinks and says he’s going to the men’s room.

On his way back I see him walking towards me as he passes a couple on their way into the theater.  His eyes widen and a look of panic clouds his face, he walks right past me and out the front doors as I’m smiling and handing him his popcorn.  He just kept walking, and I’m standing there with my hand in the air holding his popcorn container, like a fucking idiot.  No wound is ever so deep or as painful as the one inflicted by the person you love “pretending” not to know you or acknowledging your existence in his life.  He proceeds to call me from his cell outside in the parking lot to tell me he just passed his sons little league coach and that we’re going to have to improvise at getting in to watch the movie.  He tells me he’ll meet me inside the theater, and all the while I’m still wondering what the fuck is happening here?  I walk into the theater and wait and wait until he finally shows up.  It was the middle of the fucking day for god sake, who the fuck was going to recognize him?  I mean his son’s little league coach was probably there with his girlfriend too, I doubt it was his wife.  But he decided to panic and make me less of a person in his life than he already had to that point.  I went into the theater and sat in the highest part in the back waiting for him to come in.  The previews had begun and everyone knows this takes up about half an hour of time before the movie starts.

This little incident gave me a smidge of childhood PTSD from when I was in the 3rd grade and I really had a crush on one of the boys in my class, lets Flashback to 1977, San Elizario Elementary.  Granted I was not a pretty girl in school, how do I know this?  Because almost all the boys in my class thought they’d tell me so. In any case I really like this one boy Jen Borrego, I believe his full name was Genaro.  I’m like Genaro what the fuck?  Anyway this boy I liked, everyone called him Jen not fully realizing that is actually short for Jennifer.  One day one of my cousins showed me a huge stainless steel ball baring that my grandfather had pulled out of a piece of machinery he was dismantling in my uncles junk yard.  At the time, marbles were a big thing and even us girls got into playing you know to impress the boys.  The bigger the marble the better the chance one had of winning.  One day I snuck into my grandfather’s house, to find the “giant” marble, because I knew where my cousin kept his “treasure” box.

It was this old cigar box with all of his most treasured possessions, which for a boy of about ten years old consisted of baseball cards, a bunch of quarters, a blue bandana, a pack of Big League Chew bubble gum, a metal ring with a huge plastic green gem on it and his prized playing marbles that he either won or bought with his allowance.  In there was the big stainless steel bearing he had gotten from my grandfather.  I thought to myself surly if I give this to Jen he’ll actually like me.  So I took it that afternoon and the very next morning I was excited as I walked across the street to school.  My parent’s lived right across from the elementary school so it only took me five minutes to get to the playground where everyone would congregate to have a few rounds of marbles before the bell rang calling us into school.

As I walked towards the playground that morning I felt confident, my hand in the pocket of my purple coat, feeling that round, smooth “marble” against my fingers and holding my book case in my other hand.  I clenched it in the cold November morning and watching my breath in the cool twilight of the playground.  I walked towards the crowd gathered by the merry-go-round and there he was, Jen and it was going to be his turn to play.  Right then the bell rang and a loud collective groan came from everyone knowing we had to run back towards the school.  As everyone gathered their stuff from the side of the merry-go-round I approached Jen and said “Hey Jen., I have something for you” and he looked up at me from tying his shoe as I held out the metal sphere in my hand.

His eyes grew big and his jaw dropped and he said “Wow! That’s great!  Where’d you get it?”  And I told him I had found it, when in reality I had stolen it from my cousin.  He took it and held it and said “You’ll beat everyone with this for sure!”  His eyes not once left the metallic orb as he stared in wonder.  As be began to hand it back to me I said “You can have it” and he stared up at me with his green-brown flecked eyes and freckled face.  He said “For reals I can have it?”  And I said “yes you can have it” and he said “Alright! Thanks” and ran off into the distance with his books under one arm and the stainless steel marble in his hand as he yelled at some of the other boys walking ahead of him.  I felt as if I was walking on clouds of cotton candy as I began my trek towards the door to my classroom.

As I walked I thought to myself, wow he’ll like me now for sure especially if he wins during lunch (what did I know I was eight years old).  We all walked into our classroom and situated ourselves at our assigned desks and our teacher was running late and the all the boys had gathered around Jen as he showed off his newly acquired prize.  I began to walk over towards them and I heard another boy ask him where he had gotten it and he quickly turned around and I stood still waiting for him to acknowledge where he had gotten it.  Then he turned towards me and said “Esta pendeja me lo dio” as he pointed at me, which translates to this fucking idiot gave it to me.  And all the boys turned and in unison began to laugh at me as if to say what an idiot you are to give something like this away.  My ears began to get hot and the embarrassment grew as the laughter seemed to get louder.

Then another boy Javier Castaneda said out loud “pendeja!” as if to certify what Jen had just yelled out, you know in case someone from another class had failed to hear it.   That’s when our teacher walked in and we all sat at our desks, I sat in the back staring at the entire classroom listening to the buzz of the new stainless steel marble that Jen had in his possession, it hung above like a cloud of toxic bullying, humiliating gas.  Our teacher gave us our assignment, I took out my notebook and began my assignment. As I began to write, tears fell and hit the blue lined ruled notebook paper.   I felt like such an idiot especially for thinking that this ugly eight year old would actually find some sort of validation from a boy she thought she could buy affection from with a stainless steel marble she had stolen from her cousin.  Perhaps it was karma for stealing the marble, but at that age I knew nothing of karma all I knew is that it didn’t have to be that cruel.

Back in present day as I recalled that moment from my youth I could feel the tears rolling down my face yet again, waiting outside in my car in the theater parking lot waiting for Lestat to make his way out so we could leave.  I had the very same feeling that day as I did when I was eight, and I will never forget the thought running through my head at the time, which was “Am I ever NOT going to be the ugly idiot that has to wait for a man to show her affection?”  That’s when my cell phone rang and it was Lestat asking if I could pick him up behind the theater, and I was like how the fuck did he wind up there?  I drove around the back and there he was standing by a pile of cardboard boxes looking like a damned crack dealer waiting for his next customer.  That’s when I realized that the crackhead was me, as I drove us back to the eastside in silence as he kept apologizing for what had just transpired.  I didn’t say one word and I dropped him off at his office and drove home to my parent’s house.  It was only one-thirty in the afternoon and I rejected his suggestion to go have lunch so we could talk.

I just felt so drained and emotionally beaten down I didn’t want nor need to have him explain to me why it was that he HAD to make me feel like a stranger.  I mean come the fuck on the motherfucker had just made me feel like I was back in the fucking third grade and he wanted to explain why?  I don’t fucking think so.  But that’s what emotional vampires do, they build you up and then they tear you down again only to want to build you up again.  Prince Charming and Carlos didn’t show up that day either, those motherfuckers.  As I took the long way home I listened to the radio and the song by Rascal Flats came on.  I had one arm on the door of my car and the other on the steering wheel, I leaned up against my hand as I drove listening to this song about a woman who is so special that this guy feels the need to sing about her and how she isn’t a day over fast cars and freedom.  How she doesn’t need makeup because she’s beautiful inside and out.  And just like in the third grade my tears began to fall without my actually crying out loud.  I just couldn’t keep them in while listening to this song wondering if I would ever be this important to one man for them to make me feel like a song.  Okay I know that some of you will say that if I’m so strong why would I need a man to make me feel this way?

Well because we’re all human and we feel the need to connect to one human being in a way that makes us feel loved and special in their eyes.  We all want to be that special song, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman we all want to be reminded or remind those in our lives that we’re special that we are a song in their minds.  Every time they hear it, it will remind them of us, all the time.  But this can also work the other way around, when you hate someone so viciously like Alanis Morrissett did when she wrote “You Outta Know.”  That is a brilliant song and she must have loved that dude that dumped her in a deep (and maybe obsessive way) to write something so painful and full of vengeful suggestions.  Much respect to Alanis, she’s mah bitch, I swear if I didn’t know she was Canadian I could have sworn she was Hispanic.

The emotional vampire said to me once that all the songs from the Eagles reminded him of me, and I didn’t quite know how to take that.  I mean yes I wanted to be a song to someone and he definitely was a song to me.  Pretty much the entire soundtrack to the Urban Cowboy movie, don’t ask me why he just was.  There is a difference between being reminded of someone and someone “being” that song.  While we’re on the subject, did I mention that Lestat claimed to not like mushy or lovey-dovey feelings?  Yes, he would tell me that I had flair for writing and expressing myself verbally (we’re not talking about cursing eloquently) and that it was harder for him to express how he felt.  Which in my mind was total bullshit, and why do I say this?  Because he sure as fuck could express himself when we were having sex, and I do mean he could elaborate on how he wanted it, what he fantasied about and what he wanted me to do for him.

So the entire of “I’m not as good as you are expressing my feelings” was total bullshit!  He only did it when he wanted to, and that was during sex.  He also wasn’t very romantic in general, I thought he was with the whole fishing cilantro out of my soup thing.  But that was just being nice I suppose.  Because being affectionate he was good at, but being romantic he lacked a lot of eloquence.  For the first fifteen years of our relationship I’d get flowers for Valentine’s Day, I’d get a dozen roses.  As well for my birthday, but then it stopped, probably because his sister’s flower shop went under and he didn’t have access to flowers anymore.  But I’m not the only one that got flowers, his idiot wife did too.  He justified that he sent her roses for Valentine’s Day because of his kids, some more bullshit to process.

He had a unique place in my life and heart that I had a hard time getting rid of.  Like a fucking splinter stuck there in the palm of your hand or finger.  You know it’s there and you can feel it but you can’t find it to yank it the fuck out so it doesn’t cause you anymore pain, and if you don’t it lingers there just beneath the surface causing all kinds of discomfort.   But apparently I wasn’t considered this way in his mind, I mean let’s talk about how unoriginal this motherfucking emotional vampire really was shall we?  Stay tuned for part 18…..


Part 16…….Vampires aren’t Dating Material, they will Kill you no matter How Much they say they Love you.

“You never thought you’d be alone, this far down the line.  And I know what’s been on your mind. You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time.” – The Eagles, Wasted Time

The seeds of animosity began to germinate and only got bigger as time went by, only I didn’t know exactly what it was, I just knew that something bothered me about him and his proclamation of “love” over the years.  I suppose I was still waiting for him to turn into Prince Charming as I made excuses for the asshole and continued to think he was the great love of my life, which of course wasn’t true.  But nonetheless I believed it then because I was still blinded by love for this man.  Okay so I was stupid but what have I been saying all along, love makes you stupid, but only voracious, emotional draining love does this to you.  I’m sure that healthy, sharing and emotional supportive love isn’t this way but I don’t know what that’s like, I haven’t had the opportunity to know find that out for myself, yet.  I’m only speaking from my experiences.  This is when one begins to realize that love is and should be a two way street.  Some relationships are at times lopsided but relationships like the one I had with Lestat the Emotional Vampire was all give on my part and all take on his.

I rarely got much in return because of the “I never promised you anything” mantra he held steadfast to.  I’m not denying I should have bolted, but I kept wondering why fate kept me there for this long.  I didn’t think I had done anything as bad in this life or any past life (if you believe in that) that warranted the emotional suffering I was going through.  So I will elaborate more on exactly what kind of suffering and emotional self-mutilation I put myself through. At the point when my ex-husband and I separated I suppose he was in a vengeful state of mind because the very next day I moved out of our mobile home in rural El Paso County, Fabens Texas to be exact, and moved back into my parent’s home, he had closed all of our joint bank accounts and left me without a dime.  We had both contributed to the household finances but the asshole decided he was going to make me suffer for the separation we had both been at fault for.  While he did that, I had written checks (remember those?) to pay the utility bills and for food at a local grocery store the weekend prior.

Well those checks bounced (because he closed all our joint accounts and opened new ones under his name) and months went by with those vendors sending notices to me at the address where he still lived.  So what did this mentally immature asshole do?  He threw them in the trash, which in turn meant that I didn’t respond to the hot check notices, which turned into a warrant for my arrest.  I of course was unaware at the time this was happening but it didn’t matter he was going to make me suffer any way he could.  This all happened during the time I had just accepted the job at UTEP, and I was on my way to go and turn in some paperwork at human resources that morning.  I had, at the time a 1994 (manual transmission) two door white Ford Escort hatchback with electric seat belts.  That day for some reason the driver’s side seat belt didn’t go all the way back, and I didn’t think much of it so I left my parents’ house to make the twenty-eight mile drive to UTEP.   From San Eli to Clint the drive is about two and half miles, and that day I passed the Silver Streak/Exxon Mobile gas station, going slower than the speed limit.

As I passed I saw a Clint Deputy police officer, and he was talking to someone outside in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette.  The minute I drove by, the fucker threw his cigarette on the ground and proceeded to get in his car and at that very moment I thought “this motherfucker is going to stop me because my goddamned seat belt!” And sure enough he did, now let me describe what this officer was like.  A tall, skinny/lanky, blonde haired, green eyed twenty something, who was hell bent on doing what he could to make whatever quota he needed to make by way of traffic stops.  If anyone has seen The Andy Griffin show, and you’ve seen Barney Fife, this is what this fucker looked like only younger and dumber (if that’s even possible).  I looked at the red and blue lights flashing in my rear-view mirror and slowly pulled over almost in front of Clint’s teeny tiny police headquarters.  As I put my car in park and reached for the glove compartment for my insurance, license and registration he put his hand on his gun holster and yelled out “Ma’am please keep your hands where I can see them.”  I actually felt a bit confused because did I look like I carried a gun? (Okay yes I might have but I wasn’t).  And I didn’t move, what did this idiot think I was going to do, literally right in front of the fucking police department?

He comes to my driver’s side window and then he say’s “Your insurance and license please ma’am.” I’m sitting there thinking to myself, isn’t that what I was fucking doing?  In any case he then repeated the request and I rolled my eyes and handed him my information.  He then asked what every cop asks “Do you know why I pulled you over?”  I answered with “was it my seatbelt?” Then he lost all credibility and said “Yeah that’s right, wow your smart” and I knew it wasn’t said with sarcasm but sheer surprise at the fact that I knew why I had been pulled over.  I told him that I could explain that and asked if I could get out of my car.

He said “Um, well I guess” and again I refrained from rolling my eyes at Barney and slowly opened the door to my car.  I proceeded to show him and explain what had happened with my electric seat belt, and that I was on my way to get it fixed (of course I lied, this trigger happy, deliverance banjo playing mofo was going to give me a ticket).  He then said to me that I needed to make sure I got it fixed soon and I felt a sigh of relief that went through my entire body and he said I could get back into my car.  He then said he’d be right back because he was going to run my information.  I of course didn’t worry as I knew I didn’t have any outstanding tickets, so I waited patiently in my car.  Lestat called me and I had told him what was going on and he said to call him when I left Barney’s traffic stop.  As I hung up with Lestat, Barney made his way back to my car and he said to me that I had an outstanding warrant for a hot check and I was like what the fuck!?!?!

I didn’t immediately put together the pieces of the puzzle together but it didn’t take me long.  So he said he had to “take me in” and I thought take me in where exactly?  He gave me back my insurance information and asked that I step out of my car as he reached for his handcuffs.  Can you believe that? This motherfucker was going to handcuff me for a hot check warrant!  He asked if I knew anyone that could come and pick up my car so that it wouldn’t be impounded and I said yes.  He said I could call them and then I looked at him and said “It’s going to be hard to call when I have my hands in cuffs.”  He had another cigarette in his mouth and exclaimed “oh, whoops sorry” and I thought this fucking two horse town is in deep shit if they have a guy like this one patrolling the three streets.

I called my dad and he and my mom showed up to take my car back home, while Barney Fife’s twin decided to take me into the police station, which we were parked in front of.  As he walked me in like a goddamned common criminal in cuffs and all, his Chief was there.  He sat me down by the door and he walked into the Chiefs office and began to tell him why I was being arrested.  He also began rambling on about some serial killer that was walking his way down the railroad tracks at that time, Angel Rezendez known as the Railroad Killer and I heard this idiot ask his Chief, “So Chief I mean, this guy is like, you know fair game right?  I can like, draw my weapon at him if I see him?”  I almost laughed at the sound of this Barney Fife motherfucker thinking he could take down a serial killer when he couldn’t tighten the handcuffs I had on enough so that I couldn’t slip my hands out of them to scratch my nose.

His Chief said in an annoyed tone of voice “Yes Paul, he’s fair game but don’t go doing something stupid” which indicated to me that he was known for his stupidity, and I had finally found out his name, Paul.  Then I heard his Chief tell him that he could take me to the Eastside Regional Command Station on Pebble Hills and that he didn’t have to make the trip all the way downtown to the county jail.  Then Paul responded by telling him that he would make the trip all the way to the jail because he wanted to process me the right way.  Again I could hear a loud sigh from his Chief and he told him to do what he wanted but I was being arrested on a hot check warrant not murder.  Not that I hadn’t thought about it, I could have slipped out of my cuffs right there in the waiting area and walked out, no one was watching me while Paul explained his wannabe heroics to his Chief if the Railroad Killer got in his way.  I knew this asshole had bigger aspirations than being small town law enforcement he wanted to be a “real” cop.

As he drove me downtown to the county jail (which was in the middle of downtown El Paso, and entire 19 and a half miles from Clint) all the while I kept slipping my hands out of the badly tighten cuffs to make myself a bit more comfortable.  I mean as comfortable as someone being arrested and being driven to jail can possibly get.  During the drive is when I made the connections as to why I was being arrested and thought to myself that my asshole of an ex-husband was doing what he could to get back at me for whatever reason.  We drove into the parking lot in front of the jail where law enforcement vehicles are, he walked me into the grey, alien like building with small windows.  I had seen this building many times, anyone can see it driving by downtown on I-10 I just never realized I’d actually get to see it from the inside.  Not that I ever wanted to but here I was.  Paul walked me across the street and into the front processing area and as he did, almost all of the jailers, sheriff’s deputies and EPPD that were around began to mock him, almost as if they did this on a regular basis.

One of the jailers shouted out “Hey it’s Paul!  Have you found the Railroad Killer yet Paul?” and proceeded to laugh out loud.  That’s when my embarrassment grew, not only was I being arrested because of my asshole ex-husband but, I was being arrested by someone who was the most inept law enforcement officer in the entire county of El Paso.  It was clear he had mentioned (to anyone that would listen) about wanting to catch the Railroad killer.  I stood there as they took my mug shot (can you believe I have a fucking mug shot? And not even for a serious crime like murder or stealing) and the jailer took my shoelaces and belt away from me.  What did they think I was going to hang myself over a hot check?  I was to say the least frustrated and annoyed at being arrested by Roscoe P. Coltrane but because I overheard an officer with the EPPD tell him he could have taken me to the Pebble Hills Regional Command Center where I would have gotten out sooner.  He said “yeah I could’ve but I wanted to do it right” and the officer shook his head and said underneath his breath “yeah, okay.”  The officer glanced my way and the look on his face was of sympathy and pity, almost as if to say “Hey lady I’m real sorry you’re being arrested by this douche bag.”

I was processed and put into a cell with other women, there were nine of us in a cell that was about fifteen by ten feet.  By the time I was booked in, it was around lunch time and a jailer was pushing a lunch cart and as she got to our cell she handed us each a small carton of milk, an orange and a “bologna” sandwich.  This sandwich consisted of stale hamburger buns and a thick cut piece of bologna (omg I was in prison eating prison food!).  I waited for them to call my name so I could get my phone call.  Finally after about forty-five minutes I heard my last name called and was told I could make two phone calls, and of course like an idiot I chose to call Lestat first.  Lucky for me he answered on the first try and he asked me what happened and where I was at and I told him.  I asked if he could come and get me, because I had money to pay for some of the bail and he responded with “I can’t leave the job site right now, we’re pouring concrete” (sound familiar ya’ll?) I couldn’t believe this, here I was again in desperate need of his help, it was just a fucking ride back home, and he couldn’t leave the job site! It seemed this motherfucker was perpetually pouring concrete, this slab must be as big as the goddamned Hoover Dam!   Stay tuned for part 17……….



Christmases are Different When Your An Adult

“Sons of Bitches, Bumpasses!” – The Old Man, A Christmas Story

As the Holiday’s fast approach and everyone is running around lost in the consumerism of what Christmas has become along with the hustle and bustle of trying to get last minute decorating, baking, wrapping and so on finalized.  It has occurred to me that Christmas, has lost its meaning in more ways than one.  The fervor of shopping begins on literally the day after Thanksgiving and we are off and running, lining up outside malls and stores to fight among others for the most of electronics, clothes, jewelry in order to pay the least.  And in all of this, where is Christ?  Christmas is to celebrate the birth of Christ and the meaning behind his birth has been pushed back (way back) behind buying the latest and greatest of anything.  I am certainly not a religious person, I am a spiritual one which means I don’t necessarily believe that God only hears those that congregate but he hears all of those that have a spiritual connection with a higher power.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not here to preach to anyone, but I have come to realize that Christmas is different when you’re an adult.  These are my beliefs and I am far from imposing them on those that don’t agree with them.  But I know that Christmas was once a holy day in celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, the one who died for our sins, and because of that, his birthday should not be about ourselves but the spirit of being civil to others no matter how much we disagree with them.  So now my rant as an adult will go on……stay with me here.

First of all YOU are the one now that is spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars on the very latest gadgets or the most up to date games etc.  Then you have to make it spectacular by wrapping it and presenting it to those who the gift will go to. Also we as adults are in charge of the decorating, baking, cooking and entertaining of family and friends and frankly…..I’m tired.  As a child all we had to do was wake up on Christmas morning and undo all that was under the tree and if we got what we asked for we were happy.  If not we would sulk a bit until well until we didn’t sulk.

I’m exhausted emotionally, mentally and financially so this Christmas is going to be less than spectacular and thank God my boys understand.  But for me Christmas has always been a struggle because I have a mother that suffers from depression, is narcissistic and I’m pretty sure she has Munchausen’s as well.  Her narcissistic tendencies have always ruined the Holiday’s, any holiday for me.  Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years have always been about her, what she wanted, what she didn’t get, how she felt and how no one in this world understood her.  She brought in some Christmases with crying, ranting and raving followed by alcohol induced tantrums followed by prozac and sleeping for hours, which to be honest was a nice reprieve.  One year my younger brother and I were awoken by shouting and banging around in the living room.  We walked into find my mother pointing a .22 caliber rifle at my father’s forehead.  In spite of her children’s begging and pleading she didn’t flinch.  That is the day I learned to detest Christmas and I was only eleven years old.  Of course, now she is seventy-five years old and fraile but her demanding tendencies are still there.  Only now after years of counseling I have learned not to give into her tantrums and demands.   I am forced to endure holidays with her and my father, and to be honest I seem like a bad daughter, I don’t want to spend what should be happy times with my sons, with my parents.  In any case, as a child one only had to be around adults until we were told to go out and play or go to sleep.

As an adult we are the gatekeepers of everything, our children (no matter how old) our elderly parents (no matter how mean or disagreeable) and of our homes (no matter how chaotic).  I want to spend one Christmas, just one without having to constantly tell my mother to pipe down because she comments on everyone’s gift after we open them.  Last year we opened gifts and she kept say’s “I want one like that” or “why didn’t you get me that?” or “I want to go on a cruise with you” because my friend mentioned that we should take a holiday cruise one year instead of staying home, we were facetiming.  And she added “I can get someone to take care of your dad” and then I stopped her and said “Your not being invited mom, this isn’t about you. We’re talking about me and my friend.  Why would I want to take a cruise with the person I’m trying to get away from?”  Granted I shouldn’t have said it that way but by this point in the day I was tired of her comments and attitude.

She didn’t talk to me for three weeks, those were three of the most blissful weeks I can remember.  In any case, when you’re a child Christmas is magical and full of whimsey and surprise.  You can’t wait for that day to come and to be able to show everyone what you got as a gift.  Your starry eyed and naïve, your innocent nature hasn’t yet been corrupt by the “adultness” of responsibilities, financial hardships, relationship failures and jaded by family issues.  Yes, indeed Christmases are very different when you’re an adult.  I’m sure that there are many out there who have great holidays with their families, children, neighbors and church families and I’m not trying to take away from that very well-deserved happiness.  I’m speaking strictly for myself.

I’m sure if my childhood hadn’t been mired by the dysfunctional family life I had my view of the entire Holiday season would be different.  But because I am very aware of where I came from and I have tried very hard to break the cycle when it came to my boys.  I tried to make it as normal and drama free as possible.  Of course that only lasts until my mother arrives and then the crazy train to hell stops by to pick us all up for a quick trip to crazy town.   But they know what she’s like and we, for the most part try to dismiss her behavior because my counselor tells me not to acknowledge her tantrums. So yes, Christmas is different when you’re an adult but let me leave you with a very adult thought, in the spirit of the Holidays, act like a kid if for only a moment, jump into the pile of wrapping paper, or the snow (if your lucky enough to have snow), eat as many cookies as you want, watch all the holiday specials and don’t change the channel.  Stay in your pajamas all damned day long, answer the door in them, walk outside and play in your yard in them (but please don’t go to the store in them that’s just unacceptable).  Hug everyone and I do mean everyone that walks in your door, show everyone what you got for Christmas with childish enthusiasm!  Sleep under the tree with (or without if your single or your kids are too grown up) those you love.  Cuddle with your fur babies and put weird sweaters on them to keep them warm and go and talk to the neighbor you hate.  Yes I do have a neighbor I don’t get along with, she has a life size Elf on a Shelf in her front window, and her four grown kids don’t have any children! I mean what the fuck!?!?! Hence the quote from a Christmas Story, lol.

I want to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a safe and prosperous New Year.