There seems to be a new scam amongst the scammers:
Now, I have a friend named Cedric Grimaldo. We’re Facebook friends, and I tutored his younger brothers a few years ago when I was still a student myself. That email address up there is not Cedric’s email address, he never asks how I am, he doesn’t have an Android phone and doesn’t use Yahoo! mail.
I’m not sure where the scammers got his name from, but that is really creepy. Good thing something similar to this happened to me years ago, or I might have been convinced that email was sent from a real friend’s true address!
I believe this is a Facebook scam of sorts, and I’ve blocked that address from sending me mail. Fuckin’ scammers!
Again, still knocked up.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, aren’t I?
I’m beginning to feel guilty of asking for so much time off from work, when the kid seems to be a permanent attachment to my insides. I read Carl’s FB post and he’s having a hard time grading papers, doing lectures and making PowerPoints for upcoming lectures, all while writing the third exam. I love his lines “I’d fucking fail this goddamned exam, if I had to take it! That’s how little I know this psychobabble I’m preaching to sleeping pharm students every morning and afternoon!” I think there was a GIF of my work ID photo burning as the icon. But, Carl, you wanted to be a full time professor! That’s what you told my boss! You even suggested that you be promoted just because you couldn’t get pregnant, in your own words, you were unpregnantable, a word that doesn’t exist, by the way, and therefore you were more reliable, responsible and respectable than I. Little did you know that I was over sixty percent of the meat in the exams, PowerPoints, Lecture notes, grades, and even the handouts and the agenda. I was that valuable.
Still, his brother is my dream man, so I’m going to forgive him this once, pretend that I was deaf at that staff meeting, and offer to come in and grade some papers or just go through the online grade book and assign everyone an F because that’s what they deserve if Carl is telling the truth and people are sleeping through his lectures. I say “if” because I know Carl lied about being more responsible than I (he’s behind in everything and it’s almost two weeks out of Spring Break!), he’s certainly not more respectable, naming names on his Facebook, friending students (my personal NO) and then linking to their profiles when he goes on a profanity-ridden fit when he’s frustrated, and forget reliable. Maybe Carl is pregnant? That’s got to be what’s wrong with him. He’s demanding help from other Assistant Professors tonight, and when they decline because they don’t want to get behind in their own work, he calls them irresponsible and lazy! Oh Carl, you are so not getting promoted in August.
So, since I’m legally going to be pregnant until August, and Mark told me to get rid of the brain tumor while I was off for four months, I feel that I should be doing something productive. Something. Anything. I even made Josh a PlayList for March because I just want something to keep my fingers busy, I’m sick of this …disease… that I caught from unsanitary Carl at the staff meeting a few weeks ago, and I need to occupy my mind. I need something to do. Something that makes me feel accomplished. Something that I can look back on and say, “I did so much while I was waiting for that kid to be born!” that I’m willing to sit down at my computer and write.
So I’m going to work on this site.
By “working on this site,” I’m going to start by changing my handle to “Acid Queen” but that’s not an LSD reference. Not for me anyway, and I’m not secretly Tina Turner nor have I fucked Roger Daltrey or any other member of the Who. I like the name, and I once drank a flask of hydrochloric acid in high school chemistry, I lived, cancer-ridden but alive, and still here to talk about it today.
Being the Acid Queen is one of what I consider one of my stories.
By stories I mean interesting things that have only happened to me.
Back in the day, before the perils of being forced to upgrade to WordPress because Josh is a cunt and makes me do uncomfortable things, I had pages on here of my stories. They were 100% true fascinating things that had happened to me in my twenty-eight years on Earth. I’m going to be thirty-three, the Jesus age, this year, so I think I should have an accomplished and full website like I had once before. Oh yes, this site, due to my own negligence, has become just a shell of what it was just a mere five years ago. When I first had my own .com and was in college and thus had a lot of time on the computer to write, I frequently wrote about things that made me interesting. I edited my own HTML (remember that? do you even know what that is???), made layouts on the college’s Dreamweaver, uploaded with Blogger.com and an FTP client. I had to link to all my own pages with my own editing. Nothing was automatic like it is with WordPress. You kiddies don’t know! Blogging and site maintenance was once something that required time, skill and patience. Now anyone with a fucking keyboard can be a site master and appear to be good at it.
What will my stories contain? That’s the wonderment of you’ve got to keep coming back here and checking things! I can give you a taste, though, for example, did you know that I had a lover who died in the 9/11 terrorist attacks on New York? That I’ve fucked someone super-famous (it’s not Roger Daltrey, I promise!)? Actually two someones, but sex no longer counts once you marry the one you’re fucking. That there is a famous love song out there that is about me? That for the first fifteen years of our relationship I couldn’t tell my husband from his brother and his brother regularly got sex from me because of it? Okay, that last one is just me being a horny bimbo, but, hey, it’s interesting, right? I could make something of it some day! The best of all of this is I am considering naming names. Famous names. That are on Wikipedia and you’ve probably not only heard of, but that you’ve got songs by on your computer or your CD shelf.
Now that you know all that, aren’t you just itching for me to dish, dish, dish?
Of course you are! But I’m doing this as a side pregnancy project and only through August, though I can probably whip up to thirty pages per month, if I’m really dedicated to it.
Oh, and I promise not to write about drug experiences, with the exception of the prescription drug I was given that caused amnesia. That was a pretty fun experience. I could do shit and not have to feel guilty about it the morning after. I pissed off a pretty good amount of people while I was on that drug. Oh well. The true ones stayed.
Have a good night everyone. Don’t stay up too late!
I looked up some old haunts today.
People I haven’t even thought about in years, simply because I have been busy with other things. Relationships, schooling, grabbing up credits, health, things like that. Reading up on them, I felt a little inadequate, to say the least. One of my fellow writers from back twelve years ago is published now. With the exception of publishing my nephew’s journal entries on being a terminally ill teenager with DID, I have not been officially published, as in having a book on the shelves. If it wasn’t for my nephew’s insanity, I would not have my name out there, at all.
Then there’s one of my old pains in the ass. She’s gone from a liar who had potential, to a burned out drug addict with a child who has been taken away from her. I could look at her mistakes and see where I am better off, but I choose not to go down that road. Of all the horrible things she said about me on her various blogs and websites over a decade ago, to trying to get into my hosting because she wanted to take down my site, I’m sure that she does not remember me. She has just that many enemies. Even though I remember her very well, she has fucked over so many people in her journey, she can’t possibly remember them all.
My downfall is that my memory, at times, is too good. I remember the lies, the abuse, the most vibrantly. I suppose that is a coping mechanism, a way of survival, of some sort. I just spend hours taking medications to erase those memories, only to have the better part of my memory bank erased.
That’s the funny thing with my research. I can achieve the goal of erasing a memory, permanently, but I cannot specifically choose said memory. It’s usually something benign, and harmless. Survival method. I have to find a way around that.
I feel as though I am standing still while even the most hateful people I have encountered in my life are progressing. They don’t deserve it, not in the least, but they are getting ahead, they are achieving their goals, such as they are, and I feel as though I have done nothing progressive. I have not reached my research goal that I started six years ago. My kids are not any smarter than they were years ago. Here I sit. But I am still standing.
In a random news: I am going to another party chosen by Matt. This time with Dennis. The doors are opening in about an hour, so I must get ready to go. I don’t think I will wear fish net stockings under rainbow knee-high socks this time!
So in the last couple of days, I have had a little bit of fun. After the trauma of finding my husband unconscious on the floor one early morning, and he spent some more time in the hospital, this time for an insulin overdose, I surrounded myself with friends and people to build me up, emotionally. One of the places I ended up was at a lifestyles party. A private party. Private as in I can’t disclose the place it was held, and I’m not supposed to name names, but I ended up going with Matt. I got in free because he convinced me to hide my wedding ring. Single women get in free. I spent four of the six hours just in shock of the people there, feeling each other up, having sex in plain view of others. I was the only one there, sitting awkwardly at a table, nursing a glass of ginger ale.
I ended up following Patrick upstairs and we both fell asleep in the hotel room. We were run out at 8am the next day.
Matt wants me to go back this weekend and bring Dennis along. Of course I still have to play the part of the single woman, for some reason. It would be cheaper if we paid as a couple, but this is Matt’s plan, and Matt calls the shots when it comes to public sex in this city.
Speaking of public displays of sexual encounters, Matt is my date for the Sweetheart Dance this year. In just two days we will awkwardly dance to a Buddy Holly song while dressed in 1950′s garb, and wait to hear how we lost at a 1950s dance competition. Again. For the fifth or sixth time. We’ve entered every year since 2008, and we never, ever win. Matt says it’s because I’m “so fat” so I blamed him, saying the judges thought we were both women. This year, I doubt that I can fit into my costume, but I can try, right?
Little One is actually waking up and sleeping peacefully for eight or more hours at a stretch. It’s really calming to have a baby sleep during the day while you’re still pregnant with said baby. We don’t know the gender yet (haven’t asked), but we have a unisex name picked out: Everly. I think it’s really strange that Everly is due on March 25th. My first child was born on February 25th, and Chloe was born on July 25th. The boys were due on October 25th, but because of some scheduling problems, they were born on Halloween. If Everly is born on March 25th, we’re assuming we’re having a girl. It just seems so right, you know? Have all the girls on a 25th. And yet we still forget their birthdays on a regular basis.
There’s the dilemma of a middle name. That will depend 100% on whether Everly is male or female. But we’re still deciding on that, despite the arriving due date.
Here are a couple of videos I shot while in the hospital the last time. Filmed on the cardiac floor, with my “Stupid iPhone.”
I’d also like to point out that it’s 1:30 in the morning, and someone is running a chainsaw in the wooded area out back. If any creatures with someone else’s face over their face jumps out of the woods (it quit for a few minutes, and now it’s back running again!), I am outta here! Seriously! I’ll leave tracks across whomever that is, and be three continents away before they realise that I was ever there!
So stay in those woods, Leatherface!
Also, I made a video of my stubborn family dog:
Last, you saw it first here!
I hope everyone had (or has!) a happy Thanksgiving. Everyone has something to be thankful for. I’m thankful that I can sit here to type this entry up. I was thankful that I was able to take a bath tonight and to get over the crippling nausea, chills and cold sweats that is from eating my mother’s Thanksgiving Day cooking! Or maybe I should say, undercooking? I must say, it was kind of nice to have some company in the downstairs bedroom. The snuggle-fest made my tummy ache just melt away. *all smiles*
Smile! It’s later than you think!
I had a treatment today. That made me feel bad. To make things worse, it was a treatment without the special pain killers that make me numb and feel as though I am floating while being treated. A twenty-two year old mother of a four year old was getting her first treatment — as soon as she calmed down enough, and I decided to let her have my dose. The nurse asked me three times if I was sure. I stood my ground and said I was. Poor woman came over and hugged me before her dose of Floaty.
Treatment was mild today. Or else I’m becoming immune to it. I was able to think, read and write throughout the entire infusion, as well as coming home. I believe I was given significantly less poison this time.
Coming home, my phone buzzed to let me know I had a text message. Low and behold, it was the ex that I written about yesterday! Only he wasn’t so happy to be contacting me. Clearly he had read my post, as well as some Facebook posts where I had made fun of him being so enthused with trashing me that he actually trashed getting blow jobs in general, and asked several of his male friends to back him up on that. Not only was this out of his normal now-prude attitude, but it offended several of the sincere women-respectful guys on his list, and they dropped him like a hot potato in the night. Some emailed me afterwards and offered their apologies to me. For what I don’t know, unless the ex has some sort of mental illness that he’s also hiding from his acres of adoring, prude fans who only see him as a non-threatening all around great guy. Oopsie doodle!
I ignored the text. An hour later, Ex emails me, asking if I had ever heard of a site –is anybody down–a site run by a man with multiple personality disorder who caters to the voices in his head. He’s been hearing them for the past decade, which he has dedicated his life to romancing and getting nudes and personal info out of women via Craigslist.com, and posting said photos and information on his site, then turning around and posting as a “lawyer” to take the nudes and info down — at a fee of $250 a pop. But guise! He has to do this because we’ve got the worst president since Carter! –says the twenty-eight year old man. Um, fuck you. You weren’t even born yet while Carter was in office! Perhaps this man is angry because those women got a good look at a twenty-eight year old man with multiple piercings, convictions and generally still living as a demented fourteen year old, and they quickly left him, leaving him to the only option left: Molesting the family dog.
It’s always a sign of a weak-minded person to extract revenge on someone by “exposing” them on the internet. I have a Canadian bitch who regularly posts an African American woman’s genitals on various sites around the web to “teach me a lesson” of not shutting my mouth up, giving her my domain and submitting myself to her. Or something like that. I’m not sure why she uses that same woman’s genitalia, it certainly isn’t mine, and I certainly never posted it on the web anywhere, so I assume that she’s just that bat shit insane.
I casually replied to the ex asking if he was attempting to black mail me. Either I take down my post(s), make those friends of his come back, or he was going to post some innocent woman’s genitals on the internet to seek revenge out on me!!!!1111 Or worse, on that site where it would cost me a whopping two-fitty to get them removed, thusly funding the much-needed psychiatric treatment that Craig Brittain is in desperate need of, he (Ex) needed to get both a hobby and a personality. I wasn’t at fault for him losing respectable male friends because he was bashing a woman he fucked when he was thirty three and she was all of seventeen to nineteen years of age. That’s why he lost friends last night. Those men learned basic math and were able to conclude that not only have I not even hit the age of Ex when he was first fucking me, but I was underage when we did first screw. Plus, I had some print outs of his webpage where he was hitting on a known fourteen year old girl. Think it was bad that he was fucking someone twelve years younger than him? How about him trying to pick up a girl thirty one years younger than him!
Ex’s page as of this evening is now a wasteland of ”This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.” and posts that suddenly focus on gardening rather than the hair growing in the palms of his hands.
Ex’s Master Plan, after all, must have been to cause me some trouble, since nudes of me don’t exist I was fearless! Topless, yes. Nude? Nope. The point still is that he tried to cause me drama with insane people who don’t know I exist — and I’d like to keep it that way! A few years back I fucked around with a different guy and sent him random nudes from some user-submitted porno site, leaving the watermarks on the photos, and by the end of our conversation, leaving said images hosted on the site, and he never clued in that I was throwing him for a loop, fucking with his shriveled, dehydrated brain, and that when he “threatened” to publish those random pussy photos, I really didn’t care. Publish ‘em. Maybe your PageRank will go up. They aren’t of me, so I don’t care! But sorry, Ex, I can’t get your friends back for you, I can’t change your past and make you a decent guy, and I can’t post to your webpage, so the hole you find yourself in tonight was freshly dug by you and your hatred for a woman who has moved on from the teenage junkie you knew over half her lifetime ago.
But I’m sure you can just bat those beautiful eyes of your’s and make a million more friends. Right? RIGHT?!
Tonight’s LULz was brought to you by:
The scam-bustin that started here.
Wikipedia LULz here.
Trahan thinks he’s a “ninja” Seth is a real Ninja!!
If it ever ends between Dennis and I, I’d love to have any one of those fine gentle-men lawyer boys, or Seth, as a replacement.:) Love to Adam, Marc and Mr.Popehat for keeping the internet clean of scum like Brittain and Trahan. The internet and the entire human species could use more men like you. Bless you.