I am the proud owner and user/abuser of the iPhone 5. And I've got to admit that I am pretty damn addicted to it. I use it for everything! I use it to read books, pay for my Starbucks, play games, etc. One day, I was at an event and noted that I didn't have a lighter to hold up while a certain Motley Crue song was playing. So a friend of mine suggested I get the Lighter App for my phone. So, what do I do? I downloaded the fucking thing! Yeah, now instead of holding up an actual lighter, I hold up my phone with the Lighter App going. Then, a day later, it came to me: What kind of Apps are being created to replace the acutal physical things?
With the creation of the iPhone, the Droid, Blackberry, we are now downloading Apps, or Applications, to replace (in a sense!) things that we usually do in the physical sense. For example, we used to have to approach the Check In Counter at the Airport in order to get on a flight. Now, with Apps, you have your ticket barcode on hand that you can scan into a machine and board your plane. I will admit I did this...ONCE! Why only the one time? Because I did not want to rely on my phone the entire time. I mean, what if it ran out of power or I forgot it, right? I never leave the house without the following: My Driver's License, my Passport and my Sanity. In that order! So my phone is on the bottom of that priority list because the first two guarantees my seat on the plane. Enough said!
There is an App for everything nowadays. Cooking, Entertainment, Paranormal Research and that little twinge of pain you get when you twist your ankle too far to the left. The possibilities are becoming endless with Apps. I now ask you, the readers, to go into your own smartphones and check the Apps that you have. Looking at mine, I have Apps that make sense to ME. I have Chase Mobile because I want to see if I can make it through the week. I have Urbanspoon because if I am out of town and want something good to eat outside the hotel I want to know where the locals go. I have ITC and iOvilus for Paranormal Research because I often leave my gear at home. Lastly, I have my BDubs App because I can often be found at a Buffalo Wild Wings eating wings and drinking Guinness while cheering for a Baseball or Football team other than my beloved Mets and Giants.
I've got nothing against Apps, but I do have a problem with Apps that are starting to slowly replace things which we often do by hand. What's next? A Toilet Paper App? Yeah, right! They can do it, but it's not as good as replacing actual toilet paper. I got it! A Nose Picking App! Good luck trying to shove your iPhone 4 or 5 up your nostrils! That App won't fly! Ah Ha! I got a perfect App here! An App that thinks and speaks for you! That ought to be great! An App that literally speaks and thinks in place of you! You're a machine now! Good luck replacing yourself!
Seriously, folks, minimize the number of Apps on your phone. There are things that Apps cannot replace nor duplicate. Nothing is better than doing it the Old-Fashioned way. So, with that said, let's do it all the Old-Fashioned way. Sex cannot be replaced by an App. You cannot have sex with your iPhone! The hole is nowhere near big enough.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Romance Novels: My Proverbial Crack
A few months ago, I was introduced to The Fifty Shades Trilogy. Now, at first, I was very reluctant and for a reason: I hated Romance novels and all things Romantic in nature. Having just gotten out of a bad relationship, Romance had become the furthest thing from my mind. I had forgo dreams of being kissed by a handsome prince and being whisked away into my happily ever after. I put all thoughts of love and happiness into a storage bin and kicked it into the dark corner of my mind to let it gather dust and cobwebs. After the shit my ex put me through, I wanted nothing more to do with Romance let alone read it.
However, once I read through the trilogy, I found myself reading it again and again and again and again. Then, before I knew it, I was recommending it to everybody, including my co-workers and strangers on the street. I found myself even buying duplicate copies of all three books because when I would lend it out I found myself missing it and wanting to read it yet again. It got so bad that I now had to psyche myself into diving into a literary database at work to try and find something similar.
Then, good fortune struck in a post on my Facebook timeline from a good friend from high school. She recommended that I read "Bared To You" by Sylvia Day. So, finding that I could not get it at work because it was on hold, I impatiently ran out during lunch and got the book. And, like The Fifty Shades Trilogy, I found myself reading this one again and again and again and again.
Once again, I found myself in need of yet another similar read. So, one day after work, I ventured into Barnes and Noble to buy a magazine. I turn to see a display and saw the following: If you liked Fifty Shades of Grey, then you will like... It was the book "Gabriel's Inferno" and its sequal "Gabriel's Rapture" by Sylvain Reynard. I finished these two within 72 hours. And, like before, read it again and again and again.
Yes, I will admit that my latest fixation on Romance novels has become, as the title of this blog says, my proverbial crack. I am now addicted to books that I had vowed to avoid reading at all costs. Books that I had earlier admonished for catering to the fantasies of Lonely, Single Women and Desperate, Bored Housewives. Books I chalked up to being nothing but schlock that ALL women wish would happen to them in real life. I would fantasize about having a huge bonfire consisting of nothing but these crap books. Now, the thought is no longer entertained.
Now, some men may feel that by their girlfriends or wives reading these books that this renders them insignificant as a lover. I don't think they do. They just take us away from reality temporarily. It's not that you're bad in the sack or if you have Micro-Penis that you cannot satisfy them. It's just our pornography of choice.
For the men reading this, I ask you this: Playboy, Penthouse or Hustler? Which of these magazines do you look at when you are in your bathroom rubbing one off while you have Metallica blaring in hopes to mask your cries of fantastical pleasure while you look at a woman other than the one you're with? Answer that one for me! And some of you have the audacity to get pissed off at us for reading a trilogy of books because all of us women fantasize about having our very own Christian Grey! You can masturbate while looking at another woman in a magazine, but if we read about another guy in a book you get pissed with us! If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black, then I don't what it is! Stop admonishing us for what we read and we won't admonish you for yours! Let us have our porn and we will gladly let you keep yours in whatever spot you have it hidden in!
There, I've made a case for us women. Now I'm going back to my current read. Good night!
However, once I read through the trilogy, I found myself reading it again and again and again and again. Then, before I knew it, I was recommending it to everybody, including my co-workers and strangers on the street. I found myself even buying duplicate copies of all three books because when I would lend it out I found myself missing it and wanting to read it yet again. It got so bad that I now had to psyche myself into diving into a literary database at work to try and find something similar.
Then, good fortune struck in a post on my Facebook timeline from a good friend from high school. She recommended that I read "Bared To You" by Sylvia Day. So, finding that I could not get it at work because it was on hold, I impatiently ran out during lunch and got the book. And, like The Fifty Shades Trilogy, I found myself reading this one again and again and again and again.
Once again, I found myself in need of yet another similar read. So, one day after work, I ventured into Barnes and Noble to buy a magazine. I turn to see a display and saw the following: If you liked Fifty Shades of Grey, then you will like... It was the book "Gabriel's Inferno" and its sequal "Gabriel's Rapture" by Sylvain Reynard. I finished these two within 72 hours. And, like before, read it again and again and again.
Yes, I will admit that my latest fixation on Romance novels has become, as the title of this blog says, my proverbial crack. I am now addicted to books that I had vowed to avoid reading at all costs. Books that I had earlier admonished for catering to the fantasies of Lonely, Single Women and Desperate, Bored Housewives. Books I chalked up to being nothing but schlock that ALL women wish would happen to them in real life. I would fantasize about having a huge bonfire consisting of nothing but these crap books. Now, the thought is no longer entertained.
Now, some men may feel that by their girlfriends or wives reading these books that this renders them insignificant as a lover. I don't think they do. They just take us away from reality temporarily. It's not that you're bad in the sack or if you have Micro-Penis that you cannot satisfy them. It's just our pornography of choice.
For the men reading this, I ask you this: Playboy, Penthouse or Hustler? Which of these magazines do you look at when you are in your bathroom rubbing one off while you have Metallica blaring in hopes to mask your cries of fantastical pleasure while you look at a woman other than the one you're with? Answer that one for me! And some of you have the audacity to get pissed off at us for reading a trilogy of books because all of us women fantasize about having our very own Christian Grey! You can masturbate while looking at another woman in a magazine, but if we read about another guy in a book you get pissed with us! If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black, then I don't what it is! Stop admonishing us for what we read and we won't admonish you for yours! Let us have our porn and we will gladly let you keep yours in whatever spot you have it hidden in!
There, I've made a case for us women. Now I'm going back to my current read. Good night!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Tania Head: Whoever You Are, How Could You?!
As a child, I grew up in the town of Bayonne, New Jersey. Bayonne is situated not more than ten to fifteen minutes away from New York City, particularly the Holland Tunnel. As a child, I grew up looking at the Twin Towers. I had the honor of going up to Windows on the World and the Observation Deck. I even had dreams of even flying from the very top of Tower Two over New York City, looking down at the little ants that were people.
On September 11th 2001, I was working as a merchandise hostess at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. I woke up one beautiful, warm Florida morning to turn on Telemundo and find that Tower One was on fire. I was startled and I called my mom to know what was happening only to find my call abrubtly cut off. I tried calling again only to find the lines were jammed. I began to fear the absolute worst: What if my youngest cousins were in the towers on a class trip? What if my uncle or aunt was there for something important? All the what ifs you can ever imagine. Then, when I saw the first tower collapse that I made the decision to go to work. In a car that was overheating, I was delivered the sudden shock of the second tower breaking down. I almost crashed into a gate before I regained control and informed a guardsman that both towers were now gone. He wept as he told me he knew. I parked my car, boarded a bus and went to work whilst consoling many cast members who were, like me, from the New York/New Jersey area. Many of those who have attempted tons of time to try and contact their loved ones.
I remember 9/11/01 EXTREMELY VIVIDLY! I grew up not very far from the World Trade Center and even flew home to see family I had, initially, thought I had lost. Thankfully, they are alive. The scent of burning jet fuel and decay haunts me to this very day. When September 11th comes around, the scent returns and it frightens me. I cannot even look at photographs that I, and, family members have taken without being reduced to tears.
But, there is one thing that has sickened me, and that is the disgusting and very disgraceful and disrespectful deception of a woman named Alicia Esteve Head, otherwise known as Tania Head. She claimed to have been a 9/11 Widow when, in truth, she was not a widow at all. She was, in fact, a business student in Spain at the very time when 9/11 happened. She took advantage of this very, very, very, VERY critical time in our country's history to claim she was (and not at all!) a 9/11 widow to someone who had died, but did not know her from Adam. She gained influence by being a supposed 9/11 widow, when, in truth, she was not one at all. She even became President (get THAT!) president of the 9/11 Survivors Society when, in truth, she never was one whatsoever! She gained the trust of MANY, MANY, MANY people, including Mayors Giuliani and Bloomberg, in due, deep respect! She had no shame, whatsoever! She knew the sham she was playing and she learned from the best: Her own family, who had been shamed by their own con in their respective country of Spain.
Tania Head, or whoever you truly are, how dare you?! How DARE you?! You conned people into thinking that you lost someone you supposedly loved, but NEVER knew, that you survived the collapse of the World Trade Center and, in some twist of fate, lost your fiance and, somehow, was saved by someone who did not know of your identity at all, to the collapse. I just have one question to ask of you: HOW DARE YOU?! You are not even a citizen of this country! You have not even lived five SECONDS in New York City! However, you have claimed that you had met, fallen in love and have become ENGAGED to someone you had never even met in your entire life! Please give me an explaination why I should even believe anthing you've have told the media?!
I think you still, to this day, still continue to believe your own lies. I think that you still think of yourself as a 9/11 widow. However, as a novice journalist, I believe you are definitely not. You are nothing but a con artist torn out of the same fabric as your father and your brothers. To this day, I will never, ever, EVER believe a word you utter out of your own mouth. Take my words as a compliment rather than an insult. I was born here, raised here, grew up with the World Trade Center in my back yard. Unlike you, I will always, ALWAYS, see those two towers hovering over me from where I stood on 43 East 51st Street in Bayonne, New Jersey, Hudson County. Unlike you, who grew up in the exotics of Spain who were rarely afforded such a beautiful, blissfull, lovely sight as the blues of the Meditteranean Seas. I, unlike you, was given the afforded pleasure of seeing two of the most extraodrinary, exciting, beautiful and most fascinating structure of the modern times in my own backyard whilst swimming my grandparents' swimming pool.
Tania, or whoever you are, you might have conned many into believing your lies, but you will not cheat me out of my positive childhood of having to go into my own backyard and see those magnificent silver towers hover over me in the distance. It's tragic and sad you did not get to see them as I did very frequently as a little girl, but it sickens me that you pretended to be one of us who has suffered like I have. I miss those towers over the horizon of the New York City skyline as much as I miss my grandparents tremendously. You duped so many, yet you still think of yourself as one. However, you are definitely not one of us. You are a sham! A dupe! A total lie! Stop believing in your lies and start in believing in your true self, for what you are, for the liar you are. You were never, ever, part of this terrible tragedy that has affected my country. You would like to think so, but you're believing your own lies. It may have not have happened to, but it happened to my country. We were affected directly, you were not whatsoever. You might like to think so, but that is something you, your delusions and God will have to contend with.
I am extrodinarily affected by what happened on 9/11/2001 immensely and it has affected me on my own mentality. I cannot look at the skyline of New York City the same way, not without tears. It makes me sad, very sad, to see the two Silver Castles (as I referred to them) missing from them. This Tuesday, September 11th, 2012, I will be in Liberty State Park standing there in tears remembering how, as a little girl, my grandparents would take me there to look at them and admire at how they dominated the skies. However, I will be in tears.
On September 11th 2001, I was working as a merchandise hostess at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. I woke up one beautiful, warm Florida morning to turn on Telemundo and find that Tower One was on fire. I was startled and I called my mom to know what was happening only to find my call abrubtly cut off. I tried calling again only to find the lines were jammed. I began to fear the absolute worst: What if my youngest cousins were in the towers on a class trip? What if my uncle or aunt was there for something important? All the what ifs you can ever imagine. Then, when I saw the first tower collapse that I made the decision to go to work. In a car that was overheating, I was delivered the sudden shock of the second tower breaking down. I almost crashed into a gate before I regained control and informed a guardsman that both towers were now gone. He wept as he told me he knew. I parked my car, boarded a bus and went to work whilst consoling many cast members who were, like me, from the New York/New Jersey area. Many of those who have attempted tons of time to try and contact their loved ones.
I remember 9/11/01 EXTREMELY VIVIDLY! I grew up not very far from the World Trade Center and even flew home to see family I had, initially, thought I had lost. Thankfully, they are alive. The scent of burning jet fuel and decay haunts me to this very day. When September 11th comes around, the scent returns and it frightens me. I cannot even look at photographs that I, and, family members have taken without being reduced to tears.
But, there is one thing that has sickened me, and that is the disgusting and very disgraceful and disrespectful deception of a woman named Alicia Esteve Head, otherwise known as Tania Head. She claimed to have been a 9/11 Widow when, in truth, she was not a widow at all. She was, in fact, a business student in Spain at the very time when 9/11 happened. She took advantage of this very, very, very, VERY critical time in our country's history to claim she was (and not at all!) a 9/11 widow to someone who had died, but did not know her from Adam. She gained influence by being a supposed 9/11 widow, when, in truth, she was not one at all. She even became President (get THAT!) president of the 9/11 Survivors Society when, in truth, she never was one whatsoever! She gained the trust of MANY, MANY, MANY people, including Mayors Giuliani and Bloomberg, in due, deep respect! She had no shame, whatsoever! She knew the sham she was playing and she learned from the best: Her own family, who had been shamed by their own con in their respective country of Spain.
Tania Head, or whoever you truly are, how dare you?! How DARE you?! You conned people into thinking that you lost someone you supposedly loved, but NEVER knew, that you survived the collapse of the World Trade Center and, in some twist of fate, lost your fiance and, somehow, was saved by someone who did not know of your identity at all, to the collapse. I just have one question to ask of you: HOW DARE YOU?! You are not even a citizen of this country! You have not even lived five SECONDS in New York City! However, you have claimed that you had met, fallen in love and have become ENGAGED to someone you had never even met in your entire life! Please give me an explaination why I should even believe anthing you've have told the media?!
I think you still, to this day, still continue to believe your own lies. I think that you still think of yourself as a 9/11 widow. However, as a novice journalist, I believe you are definitely not. You are nothing but a con artist torn out of the same fabric as your father and your brothers. To this day, I will never, ever, EVER believe a word you utter out of your own mouth. Take my words as a compliment rather than an insult. I was born here, raised here, grew up with the World Trade Center in my back yard. Unlike you, I will always, ALWAYS, see those two towers hovering over me from where I stood on 43 East 51st Street in Bayonne, New Jersey, Hudson County. Unlike you, who grew up in the exotics of Spain who were rarely afforded such a beautiful, blissfull, lovely sight as the blues of the Meditteranean Seas. I, unlike you, was given the afforded pleasure of seeing two of the most extraodrinary, exciting, beautiful and most fascinating structure of the modern times in my own backyard whilst swimming my grandparents' swimming pool.
Tania, or whoever you are, you might have conned many into believing your lies, but you will not cheat me out of my positive childhood of having to go into my own backyard and see those magnificent silver towers hover over me in the distance. It's tragic and sad you did not get to see them as I did very frequently as a little girl, but it sickens me that you pretended to be one of us who has suffered like I have. I miss those towers over the horizon of the New York City skyline as much as I miss my grandparents tremendously. You duped so many, yet you still think of yourself as one. However, you are definitely not one of us. You are a sham! A dupe! A total lie! Stop believing in your lies and start in believing in your true self, for what you are, for the liar you are. You were never, ever, part of this terrible tragedy that has affected my country. You would like to think so, but you're believing your own lies. It may have not have happened to, but it happened to my country. We were affected directly, you were not whatsoever. You might like to think so, but that is something you, your delusions and God will have to contend with.
I am extrodinarily affected by what happened on 9/11/2001 immensely and it has affected me on my own mentality. I cannot look at the skyline of New York City the same way, not without tears. It makes me sad, very sad, to see the two Silver Castles (as I referred to them) missing from them. This Tuesday, September 11th, 2012, I will be in Liberty State Park standing there in tears remembering how, as a little girl, my grandparents would take me there to look at them and admire at how they dominated the skies. However, I will be in tears.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Velma's All Too Brilliant Idea To Curb Cheating Men!
I just recently came up with a brand new product for women who have problems with their man cheating on them. I call this product GPPS, which stands for Global Penis Positioning System. You know how they have Lo-Jack for your car? Well, why not take the same technology and use it for the better good of keeping and maintaining relationships. Now, what does this device do exactly? Well, once you find out your spouse has cheated on you, don't go postal. Don't toss all his shit onto the front lawn like you would see in an all trailer trash episode of "Cops." Put away the baseball bat and razor that you're going to use to fuck up his car. Just call up his doctor and make an appointment to have a routine physical and while he's checking his junk he will insert a microchip into either the penis itself or behind one of his huevos. How will his doctor insert it without him knowing? Well, that part I'm still working on, but I do know a small needle is involved.
And now that you've got your man fitted with GPPS, you are now letting him, and to borrow from a certain commercial, "free to move about the country." And there is a bonus to this! You get a free download of the GPPS Mobile App for your Blackberry, Droid or iPhone. That way, when you want to go on vacation or go to work you can keep track of his junk. You go on a weekend in Vegas with your girlfriends, all you gotta do is just turn on the App and see if he's at a place you know he never goes to. And if he does happen to be at said place, this is where the fun really begins.
If you see that he is at an address that you know is not your own or that of his closest family members, you can let off a loud and annoying pinging sound similar to that of a radar on a submarine that will inform him and those around him that you have located his junk.
Another neat feature and this is similar to what they put in bait cars to kill the engine. However, the only engine you're killing is his ability to get it up. I call it the "Showstopper" device. Your handy, dandy mobile app will set off an alert, kind of like a siren going off. This will let you know that he is getting wood from something other than you. Once you get the alert, you will go to the Options menu and press the "Showstopper" button. This will send a quick 25,000 volt jolt to his package, thus stopping the erection dead in its tracks.
Now you ask what happens if you two break up? No problem! The microchip will stay in place and you have passed all the technology down to the next person. You can keep the Mobile App if you find yourself drunk and bitter and in the mood to fuck with his goods a little further!
And now I await TomTom or Garmin to contact me for my all too brilliant idea!
And now that you've got your man fitted with GPPS, you are now letting him, and to borrow from a certain commercial, "free to move about the country." And there is a bonus to this! You get a free download of the GPPS Mobile App for your Blackberry, Droid or iPhone. That way, when you want to go on vacation or go to work you can keep track of his junk. You go on a weekend in Vegas with your girlfriends, all you gotta do is just turn on the App and see if he's at a place you know he never goes to. And if he does happen to be at said place, this is where the fun really begins.
If you see that he is at an address that you know is not your own or that of his closest family members, you can let off a loud and annoying pinging sound similar to that of a radar on a submarine that will inform him and those around him that you have located his junk.
Another neat feature and this is similar to what they put in bait cars to kill the engine. However, the only engine you're killing is his ability to get it up. I call it the "Showstopper" device. Your handy, dandy mobile app will set off an alert, kind of like a siren going off. This will let you know that he is getting wood from something other than you. Once you get the alert, you will go to the Options menu and press the "Showstopper" button. This will send a quick 25,000 volt jolt to his package, thus stopping the erection dead in its tracks.
Now you ask what happens if you two break up? No problem! The microchip will stay in place and you have passed all the technology down to the next person. You can keep the Mobile App if you find yourself drunk and bitter and in the mood to fuck with his goods a little further!
And now I await TomTom or Garmin to contact me for my all too brilliant idea!
Friday, July 6, 2012
Coming To Terms With a Holy Shit Realization
Like millions of women across the world, I have read and re-read the "Fifty Shades" trilogy because it was not only a good read but made me quite curious as to this "other world," you might say. Then, I came to the realization that all those spankings and whippings I've endured from my grandparents for my bad behavior had an effect on me. It left a deep scar on me, one which I am quite indifferent to. I am neither adamant nor at peace with it. I am rather confused by it. Well, let's just cut to the chase...getting spanked and beaten, even as a grown ass woman, has become quite a major league baseball turn on for me. For this, I am not the least bit sorry. There are people who enjoy this kind of lifestyle, myself included. But, like all of them, I have both my hard and soft limits. I would like to get spanked, preferably by hand, crop, flogger and strap. However, you try to stick a lit cigarette or cigar into me I will fucking kill you with my bare hands, bonded or not. Hard limit! VERY hard limit! Getting tied up? Not a problem! I'm all for it! Blind folded? No qualms! Just no auto eroticism, or strangle for sexual gratification because we lost two great people to that shit.
Now this entry is very,very XXX rated for those who do read it, but I am no longer being shy about my tendencies and my transgressions as a human being. Love me, hate me, condemn, condone me, whatever. This is who I am, take me or leave me. I am not ashamed of it! As a matter of fact, I throw ALL caution to the wind completely! I am as, Mother Monster says' "Born This Way," then there it is. I am this way regardless of what might have occurred in my life and if I was born to endure humility.
With that said, I am on the right track, baby, and was born this way. If I am meant to be a mixture of both a Submissive and a Dominant, then so be it. Tie me down or have me tie someone else down, it is the way of the Force. I guess things were meant to move in this direction.
There! I've said it! I'm out as a Dom/Sub! A mixture of the two! Fix to be tied, but willing to tie other men myself! Haha! I feel so much better about myself. Like it, don't like it? So what? I'm being honest! Have a nice day!
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Dos and Donts to Paranormal Investigations
I recently have returned from investigating the Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville, Kentucky. I enjoyed this trip immensely and have found that not only is the place extremely active, but I have felt and heard some of the spirits that are there. The first night, which was a private, 8-hour investigation, went off without a hitch. As expected because it was just 13 of us and we all dressed the part of true blue investigators, we earned the respect of the owners of Waverly Hills. We wore clothing that was comfortable. We wore sneakers/tennis shoes, socks, the whole thing. For example, in one case, four of us took turns laying inside a body tray inside the Morgue of this vast building where thousands died from Tuberculosis. We did this willingly, knowing that fleas were definitely bound to be in there due to furry creatures inhabiting it before we laid in it. Don't worry, we showered heavily soon after.
To my friends and fellow investigators, we kicked some serious ass that first night as well as the second night. However, I now must gripe about the second night so to this I apologize in advance. If you must, feel free to contact me via Twitter to add anything more to this. So here we go: The Dos and Donts to Paranormal Investigations.
DO: Wear comfortable clothing whenever you go out to a location. If you are going into an abandoned building and it's either warm or cold out, it is best to bring along either a jacket, hoodie or sweater to keep warm with. Even a windbreaker, if you've got one. Rain ponchos I wouldn't recommend because in the dark you're going to look like a shadow figure, or a walking oversized condom.
DON'T: Wear clothing that is suitable more for the Boardwalk than Investigations. It was on this second night that I had to bear witness to one of the BIGGEST violations to Paranormal Investigating attire. This young GIRL (not WOMAN!) stepped out of this truck and had on a pair of shorty shorts. Uhm, at which point, if I had been part of her group I would have informed her, NOT kindly but in a very curt way, to go home and put on a pair of jeans. Wearing shorty shorts is something one should wear when going to the beach, not to an investigation.
DO: Wear comfortable shoes. For example, sneakers, or tennis shoes, with comfortable, breathable socks. Why do I suggest this? Because they are, I feel, the best piece of footwear to wear to any paranormal investigation, whether it's hot or cold, indoor or outdoor. I have a very well-worn, but trusting pair of Skechers that have served me well from my very first investigation up to these two nights I had at Waverly Hills. I will continue to use them until they finally give and fall apart into dust.
DON'T: Wear squeaky shoes, tap shoes, ballet shoes, or Flip Flops to an investigation. As I stated before in the Don't on clothing, these types of shoes are to be worn in certain places. In this case, the offending shoes worn were Flip Flops. Yes, you heard me. Someone ACTUALLY wore FLIP FLOPS to a paranormal investigation. This was also the exact same person who wore the Shorty Shorts. And, again I must say, I would have told her to go home and put on a pair of sneakers in addition to jeans. This is an investigation, not a Dougie contest, BITCH!! Are you at the Shore or are you at Waverly Hills? PICK ONE!!
DO: Refrain from wearing any perfume or cologne while on investigation. Paranormal experiences can happen in various ways. Your five senses are involved, including your sense of smell. So, in order to gain a better paranormal experience we now move on to...
DON'T: Wear perfume or cologne to an investigation. On the second night, a fellow investigator pointed out to me that someone was wearing cologne. To this, I hung my head and shook it rather vigorously. Even I, who has had nearly two years under her belt, knows better than to wear her Burberry Body perfume to an investigation. This will throw not only yourself, but others investigating off completely and have them thinking that a spirit is in their presence by the mere whiff of your perfume or cologne. In this case, Drakkar Noir threw us almost all of us under the bus.
DO: Refrain from consuming any alcoholic beverages before conducting a paranormal investigation. Now, I am not asking you to abstain from the sauce for the rest of your lives, but for just one night, I beg. You want to go in clean and sober and knowing your Mel-Meter from your Digital Recorder.
DON'T: Consume large amounts of alcohol prior to an investigation. And now...oy vey...I go back to the Shorty Short, Flip Flop girl. In addition to being offensively underdressed, she was also quite intoxicated. If you want to be taken seriously as a paranormal investigator, please do not imbibe on a Six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon (PBR) prior to going in and coming out with your professional opinion on whether or not a place is active. This is kind of like hiring a plumber to come and inspect your pipes and he shows up Blitzkrieg Bop drunk off his ass and tells you all is well while your basement slowly becomes your own indoor pool.
DO: Research your history on the site you will be conducting your investigation. I cannot tell you how much this has been stressed to me by not only myself, but by those whom I have learned from in this field. You must, must, must know your history. For example, room 502 of Waverly Hills was where two nurses had died. One of which had hung herself. I knew to read and re-read the history that was furnished to me by the lead investigator and from research I had done prior to my arrival at the location.
DON'T: Get your history nor your rooms mixed up. When me and the group were done conducting our investigation on the second floor, we headed down and saw that the group who had been conducting their "investigation" (IF I can call it THAT!) were reviewing their evidence on the spot. They were excited about capturing something inside of a room where they had conducted "Electric Shock Therapy." But, when they left, it turns out that the room they were in was NOT the Electric Shock Therapy room. Turns out to be a room entirely different. Once again, I hang my head and mourn the death of intelligence and, from the proverbial ashes of this mentally challenged Phoenix, rises STUPIDITY!
In conclusion, if you are interested in being taken seriously in the field of Paranormal Investigation, please follow these rules and don't make me have to bitch smack you or yell at you like a Drill Sargeant. I conduct myself in a serious manner in this field and do not treat it like a joke. If you are trying to impress someone, do your research before you know what you're getting into and stop trying to feign interest. You're just making serious female investigators such as myself look incredibly bad. Take your shorty shorts, your flip flops and your drunken ass out of this building and back home.
Velma has left the building. Thank you and good night!
To my friends and fellow investigators, we kicked some serious ass that first night as well as the second night. However, I now must gripe about the second night so to this I apologize in advance. If you must, feel free to contact me via Twitter to add anything more to this. So here we go: The Dos and Donts to Paranormal Investigations.
DO: Wear comfortable clothing whenever you go out to a location. If you are going into an abandoned building and it's either warm or cold out, it is best to bring along either a jacket, hoodie or sweater to keep warm with. Even a windbreaker, if you've got one. Rain ponchos I wouldn't recommend because in the dark you're going to look like a shadow figure, or a walking oversized condom.
DON'T: Wear clothing that is suitable more for the Boardwalk than Investigations. It was on this second night that I had to bear witness to one of the BIGGEST violations to Paranormal Investigating attire. This young GIRL (not WOMAN!) stepped out of this truck and had on a pair of shorty shorts. Uhm, at which point, if I had been part of her group I would have informed her, NOT kindly but in a very curt way, to go home and put on a pair of jeans. Wearing shorty shorts is something one should wear when going to the beach, not to an investigation.
DO: Wear comfortable shoes. For example, sneakers, or tennis shoes, with comfortable, breathable socks. Why do I suggest this? Because they are, I feel, the best piece of footwear to wear to any paranormal investigation, whether it's hot or cold, indoor or outdoor. I have a very well-worn, but trusting pair of Skechers that have served me well from my very first investigation up to these two nights I had at Waverly Hills. I will continue to use them until they finally give and fall apart into dust.
DON'T: Wear squeaky shoes, tap shoes, ballet shoes, or Flip Flops to an investigation. As I stated before in the Don't on clothing, these types of shoes are to be worn in certain places. In this case, the offending shoes worn were Flip Flops. Yes, you heard me. Someone ACTUALLY wore FLIP FLOPS to a paranormal investigation. This was also the exact same person who wore the Shorty Shorts. And, again I must say, I would have told her to go home and put on a pair of sneakers in addition to jeans. This is an investigation, not a Dougie contest, BITCH!! Are you at the Shore or are you at Waverly Hills? PICK ONE!!
DO: Refrain from wearing any perfume or cologne while on investigation. Paranormal experiences can happen in various ways. Your five senses are involved, including your sense of smell. So, in order to gain a better paranormal experience we now move on to...
DON'T: Wear perfume or cologne to an investigation. On the second night, a fellow investigator pointed out to me that someone was wearing cologne. To this, I hung my head and shook it rather vigorously. Even I, who has had nearly two years under her belt, knows better than to wear her Burberry Body perfume to an investigation. This will throw not only yourself, but others investigating off completely and have them thinking that a spirit is in their presence by the mere whiff of your perfume or cologne. In this case, Drakkar Noir threw us almost all of us under the bus.
DO: Refrain from consuming any alcoholic beverages before conducting a paranormal investigation. Now, I am not asking you to abstain from the sauce for the rest of your lives, but for just one night, I beg. You want to go in clean and sober and knowing your Mel-Meter from your Digital Recorder.
DON'T: Consume large amounts of alcohol prior to an investigation. And now...oy vey...I go back to the Shorty Short, Flip Flop girl. In addition to being offensively underdressed, she was also quite intoxicated. If you want to be taken seriously as a paranormal investigator, please do not imbibe on a Six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon (PBR) prior to going in and coming out with your professional opinion on whether or not a place is active. This is kind of like hiring a plumber to come and inspect your pipes and he shows up Blitzkrieg Bop drunk off his ass and tells you all is well while your basement slowly becomes your own indoor pool.
DO: Research your history on the site you will be conducting your investigation. I cannot tell you how much this has been stressed to me by not only myself, but by those whom I have learned from in this field. You must, must, must know your history. For example, room 502 of Waverly Hills was where two nurses had died. One of which had hung herself. I knew to read and re-read the history that was furnished to me by the lead investigator and from research I had done prior to my arrival at the location.
DON'T: Get your history nor your rooms mixed up. When me and the group were done conducting our investigation on the second floor, we headed down and saw that the group who had been conducting their "investigation" (IF I can call it THAT!) were reviewing their evidence on the spot. They were excited about capturing something inside of a room where they had conducted "Electric Shock Therapy." But, when they left, it turns out that the room they were in was NOT the Electric Shock Therapy room. Turns out to be a room entirely different. Once again, I hang my head and mourn the death of intelligence and, from the proverbial ashes of this mentally challenged Phoenix, rises STUPIDITY!
In conclusion, if you are interested in being taken seriously in the field of Paranormal Investigation, please follow these rules and don't make me have to bitch smack you or yell at you like a Drill Sargeant. I conduct myself in a serious manner in this field and do not treat it like a joke. If you are trying to impress someone, do your research before you know what you're getting into and stop trying to feign interest. You're just making serious female investigators such as myself look incredibly bad. Take your shorty shorts, your flip flops and your drunken ass out of this building and back home.
Velma has left the building. Thank you and good night!
Monday, June 11, 2012
September 11th 2001: My EXACT Memories!
Now I am going to touch on this extremely bloody day in American history. I remember where I was, what I was doing and my exact location. I had relocated to Orlando, Florida to work for Walt Disney World for experience, college wise. What a beautiful one! At least until that very day in 2001! I remember waking up and turning on the television and seeing that it was in Spaglish! I did not know what to do, other than just go to work. I saw it all! The smoke, the plane, everything! I saw people leaping out of the towers to escape a fate worse than hell! It's not a sight to dwell on! Not at all!
I remember being a small child and my mother taking me to Liberty State Park to let me gaze upon the World Trade Center. I wanted to live there at some part, but that was extremely far-fetched! I remembered my grandpa taking me to Windows on The World for dinner once. I have, regretfully, no memory of this and weep that I should have remembered this. Jesus!
September 11th has affected me to my extreme core. I grew up close to the Towers and could almost touch them, literally. For those who praise that they fell in praise of Allah I want to beat the crap out of! To kill in the name of GOD is unacceptable and makes me sick to my stomach! I won't apologize for my feelings because this is how I feel. I am not going to apologize for how my heart feels! Fuck you! You try living in a row house within leg distance of the Trade Center distance and see how you feel! I stand on the driveway of where I used to live and weep for those who didn't have to die. I see them very, very, very clearly on that September day jumping voluntarily out of those windows! Just to escape an inevitable fate of death! It is an extremely haunting and disturbing image to have embedded in your mind! It's carved into my head PERMANENTLY! I can't forget it no matter how I try! I see them leaping out of the windows! I see them begging GOD to forgive them of their sins! I see it all! It is extremely disheartening to me to remember this painful day. An all too painful day!
My cousins, Melissa and Megan, were the very first on my mind when those planes went into those Towers. They are my blood through and through regardless. I love them even though I feel they do not have a care for me even when I sob for them to be safe. I believe in unconditional love and to believe in KARMA. Melissa and Megan, I DO LOVE YOU! With my entire heart! You. Are. My. Family. I love you both with my heart! I feel empty without your voices telling me for advice.
I am here no matter what! I love you both!
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Formerly Fat: Ten Years On
Today marks ten years since I started my journey. To me, this doesn't feel weird or awkward at all. The feelings I am having towards this is one of pride. Pride in myself that I did it. That I went from being trapped inside a body that wasn't me to this beautiful person, both internally and externally.
And, as promised, here is me on the tenth anniversary of my long journey. I am so proud of me.
And, as promised, here is me on the tenth anniversary of my long journey. I am so proud of me.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Formerly Fat: My Journey from 325 to 175
I was never the size I was now. I might have been, but I have a vague memory of it. I've always remembered myself being this overweight...thing. Not even a person, a thing. The person you see now was trapped inside this thing wanting to get out, but found herself repressed by food and low, low self-esteem. Although I smiled and pretended I was okay, I was truly hurting. Hurting badly. Now, I want to take you on a journey. Let me take you back to the year 1995 where it all began.
That year, my grandfather died and his death devastated me. It was then that I found solace in eating. Now, I was already a little overweight and trying to lose weight already and already getting called fat by the other kids in school. But, it got worse after his death. And over the years, the more I ate the heavier I got and no boy would take a look at me. After high school, it creeped over into my young adult years and then one day it came to a head. I was on a ride at an amusement part and the carney couldn't fit me into my restraints so I got asked off the ride and got mooed at by others on my way down the stairs.
Coming home that night, I locked myself inside my room with whatever food product I could get a hold of and began to stuff my face while sobbing. Then, I turned and looked at myself in the mirror amidst the chip crumbs and tears. Then I realized that this was not me. Was I happy looking at this person? Hell fucking no! I saw a slight figure standing there looking at me and she was sad. She had a pitiful look on her face and it was as if she was saying to me, "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life looking like this? You are one beautiful person. Stop it or you're going to die far too soon." That was when I began my journey.
My mother spoke with my doctor and it was decided that the best option for me was to undergo gastric by-pass surgery. In addition, her insurance covered it at the time if it was decided I was morbidly obese, which I had become in medical terms. Now, I know some of you out there are thinking, "You took the easy road!" Hey, it was an easy road, but driving down that road I encountered a few pot holes, strange hitchhikers and other road blocks along the way. Getting there was easy, but actually losing the weight was the proverbial pot holes.
So, June 7, 2002, I went into the hospital and walked into the operating room. Yeah, I wasn't wheeled in, I walked holding my gown from behind. So, I barely got past 98 when I went into the Dark Side of the Moon and woke up to see flying pigs floating about the room and my grandma there fighting it out with the bitch in the bed next to me who had turned the heat on to Kilhauea standards leaving me in a pool of sweat. Now, within months, I had dropped like 75 to 80 lbs and I got down to under a plus size and began to eat smaller and healthier portions. I was doing great!
Remember my previous paragraph about strange hitchhikers? Well, one came along and I've talked about him in previous blog posts. Yeah, the abusive son-of-a-bitch is my strange hitchhiker! Because of his abusive ways, I gained back some of the weight and found myself back on the unhealthy Chain Gang again. Then...well, you know what happened. Long story short: Exorcised the asshat out of my life and got back to eating healthy, cutting soda out as well as McDonald's.
And now, come June 7, 2012, it will be ten years since my journey began and on that day I wish to celebrate with all of you out there in the Paranormal world in some way, shape or form. I want to thank each and every one of you in the Ghost Adventures/Darkness Radio world. GAC Family, you know you're invited so don't ask! And for those of you who wish to send positive words of encouragement and congratulations, whoever you are, whether via Facebook or Twitter or on this blog post.
Now, I've only shown this to a few people and it is on Facebook as well in my albums, so I thought I'd share it here on my blog. I will post an "After" shot on June 7, 2012. So, here is how I begin my journey. Here is the "Before" picture.
This was taken in 2001 at Walt Disney World. Weight at that time: 325 lbs. This is where my journey began.
That year, my grandfather died and his death devastated me. It was then that I found solace in eating. Now, I was already a little overweight and trying to lose weight already and already getting called fat by the other kids in school. But, it got worse after his death. And over the years, the more I ate the heavier I got and no boy would take a look at me. After high school, it creeped over into my young adult years and then one day it came to a head. I was on a ride at an amusement part and the carney couldn't fit me into my restraints so I got asked off the ride and got mooed at by others on my way down the stairs.
Coming home that night, I locked myself inside my room with whatever food product I could get a hold of and began to stuff my face while sobbing. Then, I turned and looked at myself in the mirror amidst the chip crumbs and tears. Then I realized that this was not me. Was I happy looking at this person? Hell fucking no! I saw a slight figure standing there looking at me and she was sad. She had a pitiful look on her face and it was as if she was saying to me, "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life looking like this? You are one beautiful person. Stop it or you're going to die far too soon." That was when I began my journey.
My mother spoke with my doctor and it was decided that the best option for me was to undergo gastric by-pass surgery. In addition, her insurance covered it at the time if it was decided I was morbidly obese, which I had become in medical terms. Now, I know some of you out there are thinking, "You took the easy road!" Hey, it was an easy road, but driving down that road I encountered a few pot holes, strange hitchhikers and other road blocks along the way. Getting there was easy, but actually losing the weight was the proverbial pot holes.
So, June 7, 2002, I went into the hospital and walked into the operating room. Yeah, I wasn't wheeled in, I walked holding my gown from behind. So, I barely got past 98 when I went into the Dark Side of the Moon and woke up to see flying pigs floating about the room and my grandma there fighting it out with the bitch in the bed next to me who had turned the heat on to Kilhauea standards leaving me in a pool of sweat. Now, within months, I had dropped like 75 to 80 lbs and I got down to under a plus size and began to eat smaller and healthier portions. I was doing great!
Remember my previous paragraph about strange hitchhikers? Well, one came along and I've talked about him in previous blog posts. Yeah, the abusive son-of-a-bitch is my strange hitchhiker! Because of his abusive ways, I gained back some of the weight and found myself back on the unhealthy Chain Gang again. Then...well, you know what happened. Long story short: Exorcised the asshat out of my life and got back to eating healthy, cutting soda out as well as McDonald's.
And now, come June 7, 2012, it will be ten years since my journey began and on that day I wish to celebrate with all of you out there in the Paranormal world in some way, shape or form. I want to thank each and every one of you in the Ghost Adventures/Darkness Radio world. GAC Family, you know you're invited so don't ask! And for those of you who wish to send positive words of encouragement and congratulations, whoever you are, whether via Facebook or Twitter or on this blog post.
Now, I've only shown this to a few people and it is on Facebook as well in my albums, so I thought I'd share it here on my blog. I will post an "After" shot on June 7, 2012. So, here is how I begin my journey. Here is the "Before" picture.
This was taken in 2001 at Walt Disney World. Weight at that time: 325 lbs. This is where my journey began.Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Tattoos Are A Beautiful Thing...In Some Cases
In today's modern age, people are getting tattoos left, right and center. Young and old alike are putting on stuff that has meaning to them or whatever they think is cool. Some even put their kids' names on them or their mother's name, even pictures of their kids, grandkids or parents. To me, that is a beautiful thing. However, in some cases, some people get very irrational and rush into a tattoo that they would come to regret getting later in life.
Here are some examples I have come across over the years that I have found funny, but regretful.
A friend of mine was dating this guy in middle school and it was passionate in a middle school kind of way. So, one day, she came to school and her arm was covered. When we asked her what happened, she took off the bandages and showed the name "Brian" ETCHED into her arm. Now, naturally, our teacher freaks and sends her to the nurse. At that time, I was like, "How can you be so stupid?!" Needless to say, word spread throughout the school about her and this guy broke it off with her. And now, to this day, that name is forever etched into her lower arm. Lesson here: Don't EVER etch nor tattoo your significant other's name into your skin because you never know when you're going to break up.
Another instance of stupidity was a friend got the initials of her favorite boy band tattooed on her. Now, in the late 90s, Backstreet Boys and Nsync were the top two boy bands. Now being a young girl with a hormone surge that could be seen from Venus, I was crazy about the Backstreet Boys. My friend was all about Nsync and she was so crazy about them that her walls in her bedroom were back to back Justin and Lance. So, one day she declared she was going to show her love for them by getting their name tattooed over her heart. I didn't take her seriously, but heaven knows I should have given her some advice. Then, a week later, she comes by my house and, lo and behold, right over her left breast was the band's name. Shocked and disturbed by this, the first words out of my mind were "Oh, my god, I should've stopped her." Well, you can tell what happened to Nsync, folks. So now she's got three kids of her own and I can't help but to laugh my ass off at the visual of her breast feeding her baby with the word "Nsync" permanently etched over her nipple. Lesson here: You may love them when you're 17, but when they break up and you've permanently inked them on you, you've got some explaining to do later in life to your kids.
Now, Tattoos are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and I am the proud bearer of eight tattoos. All have meaning to them and I am proud of every single one of them. But, my rule is to never get a name tattooed on me unless we have been together for a very long time and he eventually kicks the bucket. I look forward to my future 9th tattoo in the future and encourage you all to look back on these two examples and think before you ink.
THINK BEFORE YOU INK!!!
Here are some examples I have come across over the years that I have found funny, but regretful.
A friend of mine was dating this guy in middle school and it was passionate in a middle school kind of way. So, one day, she came to school and her arm was covered. When we asked her what happened, she took off the bandages and showed the name "Brian" ETCHED into her arm. Now, naturally, our teacher freaks and sends her to the nurse. At that time, I was like, "How can you be so stupid?!" Needless to say, word spread throughout the school about her and this guy broke it off with her. And now, to this day, that name is forever etched into her lower arm. Lesson here: Don't EVER etch nor tattoo your significant other's name into your skin because you never know when you're going to break up.
Another instance of stupidity was a friend got the initials of her favorite boy band tattooed on her. Now, in the late 90s, Backstreet Boys and Nsync were the top two boy bands. Now being a young girl with a hormone surge that could be seen from Venus, I was crazy about the Backstreet Boys. My friend was all about Nsync and she was so crazy about them that her walls in her bedroom were back to back Justin and Lance. So, one day she declared she was going to show her love for them by getting their name tattooed over her heart. I didn't take her seriously, but heaven knows I should have given her some advice. Then, a week later, she comes by my house and, lo and behold, right over her left breast was the band's name. Shocked and disturbed by this, the first words out of my mind were "Oh, my god, I should've stopped her." Well, you can tell what happened to Nsync, folks. So now she's got three kids of her own and I can't help but to laugh my ass off at the visual of her breast feeding her baby with the word "Nsync" permanently etched over her nipple. Lesson here: You may love them when you're 17, but when they break up and you've permanently inked them on you, you've got some explaining to do later in life to your kids.
Now, Tattoos are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and I am the proud bearer of eight tattoos. All have meaning to them and I am proud of every single one of them. But, my rule is to never get a name tattooed on me unless we have been together for a very long time and he eventually kicks the bucket. I look forward to my future 9th tattoo in the future and encourage you all to look back on these two examples and think before you ink.
THINK BEFORE YOU INK!!!
Monday, May 7, 2012
You're Driving Me Crazy: Is It Love Or Infatuation?
Last week, I swore that I would not think about Mr. Anonymous. That promise to myself lasted about an hour. He was on my mind when I went to bed at night and again when I woke in the morning. I am getting extremely frustrated and angry at him for doing this to me. I hate him right now, but then again I cannot help but to like the schmuck because he is on my mind.
This has led me to ask myself once again: Is this mixed feelings of anger and fondess for Mr. Anonymous love that I am feeling, or is it Infatuation? I am so confused about these feelings that I feel toward him and hope that he will, someday, realize how I feel about him. If you read my previous post in regards to this matter, you will read why.
I know there is going to be a change in my life coming soon and I am doing as told and accepting that it will happen soon. Maybe Mr. Anonymous is responsible for my change in my lifestyle and the way I feel. Or, maybe, it is now my time to be happy and he is going to be part of that happiness that is to come my way. When it will come is anybody's guess. I accept whatever Fate has in store for me.
And now to Mr. Anonymous, can you get off my mind for a whole day, please? I do not know whether this is love or infatutation! So I need my space till I realize what this is I feel towards you. So please, take a vacation from my mind...but not my heart.
This has led me to ask myself once again: Is this mixed feelings of anger and fondess for Mr. Anonymous love that I am feeling, or is it Infatuation? I am so confused about these feelings that I feel toward him and hope that he will, someday, realize how I feel about him. If you read my previous post in regards to this matter, you will read why.
I know there is going to be a change in my life coming soon and I am doing as told and accepting that it will happen soon. Maybe Mr. Anonymous is responsible for my change in my lifestyle and the way I feel. Or, maybe, it is now my time to be happy and he is going to be part of that happiness that is to come my way. When it will come is anybody's guess. I accept whatever Fate has in store for me.
And now to Mr. Anonymous, can you get off my mind for a whole day, please? I do not know whether this is love or infatutation! So I need my space till I realize what this is I feel towards you. So please, take a vacation from my mind...but not my heart.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Clear Heels and REM-Pods Don't Mix!
I was cruising Twitter like I always do and I see a post that just...just...ugh...just sent me into full on Foamy mode. What is Foamy mode for me? It's when I go off on a high-pitched rant about things that are pissing me off. Now, for those of you who have had the privilege of meeting me in person, you know that I speak my mind on things that piss me off. And I have many levels just as Gabriel Iglesias has his Six Levels of Fat. Well, for me personally, I have Six Levels of Pissed Off. Here it goes:
1) Annoyed: I roll my eyes and ignore it.
2) Irritated: I don't speak and have a permanent scowl on my face.
3) Aggravated: Still scowling and doing 100 mph on the road.
4) Beyond Angered: I am ready to go and purchase an axe at the hardware store.
5) Foamy: Go off on a rant till the vein pops out of my head.
6) Kinison/Carlin: Chew you out until you run crying for your mama.
This Twitter post was one step away from Kinison/Carlin and it's rare of me to go Kinison/Carlin unless you do something that I find out of line, outrageous and just plain wrong. So, I am compelled as you no doubt to write this post.
There are many, many paranormal groups out there in the world. A lot of them are getting their start, a lot are already established and accredited, but a relative handful get to be on television. However, this is about those who are starting out. There is a group out there, and I will keep them anonymous because I don't want to get sued. Don't take me wrong, if I do get sued, I will tell the judge to look at them and kindly consider the facts in this post. I am sure I will win and then, when all is said and done, POW! Small claims court...for the time they made me spend on that libel case! Karma, bitch!
Now back to the subject at hand, there is this group out there and their tactic for getting attention is the following phrase: Sex sells. And they are good at it, but they are making us serious female investigators look bad. I went to an event and saw that they were wearing daisy dukes, high heels and showing off their torsos. And they had the sand to call themselves investigators?! I understand sex sells, but this is going way out of proportion.
When I do an investigation, I find that wearing heels is totally unacceptable and should not be worn. Think of all the audio contamination! I mean, c'mon!
**CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK**
"I caught a strange clicking noise on my digital recorder! There's a ghost there!"
"No, it was Yvette in her 5 inch stilettos!"
So out with the goddamn heels in regards to investigations! Just stick to sneakers or boots. And tag your audio evidence, for fuck sake!
And these mini dresses and shorty shorts and daisy dukes and shit, you've got to be fucking kidding me! God forbid you should put on a pair of jeans! Oh, and now you're cold? Well, I have no sympathy for you! Not going to lend you my coat.
In conclusion, clear heels and Rem-Pods do not mix AT ALL! Sex sells in only one place: The Porn Industry. Let's keep it there, please?!
1) Annoyed: I roll my eyes and ignore it.
2) Irritated: I don't speak and have a permanent scowl on my face.
3) Aggravated: Still scowling and doing 100 mph on the road.
4) Beyond Angered: I am ready to go and purchase an axe at the hardware store.
5) Foamy: Go off on a rant till the vein pops out of my head.
6) Kinison/Carlin: Chew you out until you run crying for your mama.
This Twitter post was one step away from Kinison/Carlin and it's rare of me to go Kinison/Carlin unless you do something that I find out of line, outrageous and just plain wrong. So, I am compelled as you no doubt to write this post.
There are many, many paranormal groups out there in the world. A lot of them are getting their start, a lot are already established and accredited, but a relative handful get to be on television. However, this is about those who are starting out. There is a group out there, and I will keep them anonymous because I don't want to get sued. Don't take me wrong, if I do get sued, I will tell the judge to look at them and kindly consider the facts in this post. I am sure I will win and then, when all is said and done, POW! Small claims court...for the time they made me spend on that libel case! Karma, bitch!
Now back to the subject at hand, there is this group out there and their tactic for getting attention is the following phrase: Sex sells. And they are good at it, but they are making us serious female investigators look bad. I went to an event and saw that they were wearing daisy dukes, high heels and showing off their torsos. And they had the sand to call themselves investigators?! I understand sex sells, but this is going way out of proportion.
When I do an investigation, I find that wearing heels is totally unacceptable and should not be worn. Think of all the audio contamination! I mean, c'mon!
**CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK**
"I caught a strange clicking noise on my digital recorder! There's a ghost there!"
"No, it was Yvette in her 5 inch stilettos!"
So out with the goddamn heels in regards to investigations! Just stick to sneakers or boots. And tag your audio evidence, for fuck sake!
And these mini dresses and shorty shorts and daisy dukes and shit, you've got to be fucking kidding me! God forbid you should put on a pair of jeans! Oh, and now you're cold? Well, I have no sympathy for you! Not going to lend you my coat.
In conclusion, clear heels and Rem-Pods do not mix AT ALL! Sex sells in only one place: The Porn Industry. Let's keep it there, please?!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Fifty Shades of Grey: Velma's Thoughts
Two weeks ago, I was processing an Entertainment Weekly magazine at my desk when I noticed the cover. It was talking about a book that has been causing quite a stir and have dubbed it "Mommy Porn." The name of the book was "Fifty Shades of Grey" and it was apparently the talk of the town. I kept telling myself, "I'm not going to read it. I'm not going to read it." But, curiosity was getting the best of me and then I went out for lunch and bought it. I took it home that night and read it.
Now the beginning starts off easy, but then I got deeper into it and let's just say...hmm...I turned fifty shades of red and felt something I had not felt in a very long time. And you ladies out there know what I mean.
Aw, fuck it! I'm going to give it to you straight, no chaser!
It was erotic! It was passionate! It made me feel like having sex! Too bad I'm single.
It stirred the fire inside of me and, you know what, it felt pretty goddamn good!
There, I've said it! Now you can call me a sex maniac all you want now!
But, truthfully, this is a book intended for adults and not young teenagers and kids.
Now, I am not one for the whole Submissive/Dominant thing, but there are people out there who are really into this thing. They have whips, chains, butt plugs and vibrators to help them get off on. And they do! I'm shocked.
I am currently reading book three of the trilogy and I am hooked. Ladies, if you are one who is not into the whole "Sub/Dom" thing but you like romance novels, check out "Fifty Shades of Grey." Who knows? You might bring "the spark" back into the bedroom. You will have me to thank!
And now, for those of you who are inquiring as to what gives me a thrill in the bedroom department, that's absolutely none of your business. What I get off on is told between me and whatever boyfriend I have at the time. So please keep yourself (preferably your eyes) out of my bedroom! I thank you.
If you have already read the book, what did you think of it? Feel free to comment.
Now the beginning starts off easy, but then I got deeper into it and let's just say...hmm...I turned fifty shades of red and felt something I had not felt in a very long time. And you ladies out there know what I mean.
Aw, fuck it! I'm going to give it to you straight, no chaser!
It was erotic! It was passionate! It made me feel like having sex! Too bad I'm single.
It stirred the fire inside of me and, you know what, it felt pretty goddamn good!
There, I've said it! Now you can call me a sex maniac all you want now!
But, truthfully, this is a book intended for adults and not young teenagers and kids.
Now, I am not one for the whole Submissive/Dominant thing, but there are people out there who are really into this thing. They have whips, chains, butt plugs and vibrators to help them get off on. And they do! I'm shocked.
I am currently reading book three of the trilogy and I am hooked. Ladies, if you are one who is not into the whole "Sub/Dom" thing but you like romance novels, check out "Fifty Shades of Grey." Who knows? You might bring "the spark" back into the bedroom. You will have me to thank!
And now, for those of you who are inquiring as to what gives me a thrill in the bedroom department, that's absolutely none of your business. What I get off on is told between me and whatever boyfriend I have at the time. So please keep yourself (preferably your eyes) out of my bedroom! I thank you.
If you have already read the book, what did you think of it? Feel free to comment.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
What To Expect At My Wedding
Recently, my mother has been putting the pressure on me about the "M" word: Marriage. I have not been in a relationship in two years and so, you can say, my thoughts on relationships and marriage are mixed. I do want to meet Mr. Right (not Mr. Right Now!) and be able to get married. However, I have this constant fear and anxiety that I am going to get hurt all over again. That I am going to think I am his "only one," but then it turns out I am just his "dirty little secret."
But, let's switch gears and focus on the day I do eventually take a walk down the aisle and say "I Do" and "He Does."
First of all, my best friend is going to be my maid of honor. She knows who she is! As far as my bridesmaids go, I have the option of picking my five cousins or six great friends of mine. Now, I know to not pick my cousins would be disrespectful to my family, but come on, it's MY day to shine! I will have who I want in my bridal party, damn it!
Second, my maid of honor and bridesmaids will wear whatever style they want. However, it must be in the following colors: Black, White and Red. They can wear a long dress, short dress, even a two piece suit if they wanted. But in those colors ONLY! If you wear Lime Green, I'm going to blow a gasket!
Third, NO GOLD WEDDING RINGS! I want either silver or black tungsten rings! Gold is extremely gaudy! If you show me gold, I will throw a fit faster than a hooker is offered $100 for her services!
Fourth, I want Mr. Right to meet me halfway up the aisle and take me by the hand to the altar. We are embarking on this journey together so we might as well start at the altar together. When I come up that aisle towards you, I will no longer walk alone as I take your hand and begin our life together.
Fifth, when it comes to the vows, I want to make them completely special and intimate. Nothing too mushy or lovey dovey, but just right for us. Something we will always remember for years to come.
And lastly, your song to dance to with me BETTER, BETTER BE a Def Leppard song!
And with that said, this is what you are to expect at my wedding!
But, let's switch gears and focus on the day I do eventually take a walk down the aisle and say "I Do" and "He Does."
First of all, my best friend is going to be my maid of honor. She knows who she is! As far as my bridesmaids go, I have the option of picking my five cousins or six great friends of mine. Now, I know to not pick my cousins would be disrespectful to my family, but come on, it's MY day to shine! I will have who I want in my bridal party, damn it!
Second, my maid of honor and bridesmaids will wear whatever style they want. However, it must be in the following colors: Black, White and Red. They can wear a long dress, short dress, even a two piece suit if they wanted. But in those colors ONLY! If you wear Lime Green, I'm going to blow a gasket!
Third, NO GOLD WEDDING RINGS! I want either silver or black tungsten rings! Gold is extremely gaudy! If you show me gold, I will throw a fit faster than a hooker is offered $100 for her services!
Fourth, I want Mr. Right to meet me halfway up the aisle and take me by the hand to the altar. We are embarking on this journey together so we might as well start at the altar together. When I come up that aisle towards you, I will no longer walk alone as I take your hand and begin our life together.
Fifth, when it comes to the vows, I want to make them completely special and intimate. Nothing too mushy or lovey dovey, but just right for us. Something we will always remember for years to come.
And lastly, your song to dance to with me BETTER, BETTER BE a Def Leppard song!
And with that said, this is what you are to expect at my wedding!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Using Money Like Toilet Paper
Today during my lunch I saw a post that a friend of mine had posted about her neighbor. What it entailed was that her neighbor had bought rims worth $4,000 and he put them onto his 1998 piece of shit vehicle. Now I just had to laugh at this because this is something that I see everyday at work and at home. I drive past them and they drive past my house blaring Wiz Khalifa at a volume that can be heard as Tonopah, Nevada.
I can understand you needing something to get you from here to there, and that's fine. However, I do not understand why you would spend all this money for these high end rims and you stick them onto your 1992 Honda P.O.S with multi-colored doors and a rusted out hood with one side mirror hanging off! What the hell is wrong with you?! You could've used this money to buy yourself a brand new USED car! But NOOOOO...you just HAD to have the rims so you can show all of your friends how "GANGSTA" you are.
These cars are downright ridiculous! Often times, it's these white trash urban rednecks that own these damn things. At least in my neighborhood anyway! When they drive past my house, I want nothing more than to throw out a set of Spike Strips just as their doing 45 down a street clearly marked 25. When they get out to complain, I will reach into their car, yank out their radio and throw it right into a fucking pool! Then I will pull up their pants, take the belt, tie the pants over their head with it and kick them square in the ASS!
To all the McSkeezer WannabeMackDaddies out there, and this is for the white ones, stop spending money on making your piece of shit Honda or whatever vehicle that you drive look better. Use the money for something else! You got kids? Buy them a swing set! Take them to Disney World! Do something resourceful and useful for this thriving economy of ours! Don't spend it on rims, please?!
I can understand you needing something to get you from here to there, and that's fine. However, I do not understand why you would spend all this money for these high end rims and you stick them onto your 1992 Honda P.O.S with multi-colored doors and a rusted out hood with one side mirror hanging off! What the hell is wrong with you?! You could've used this money to buy yourself a brand new USED car! But NOOOOO...you just HAD to have the rims so you can show all of your friends how "GANGSTA" you are.
These cars are downright ridiculous! Often times, it's these white trash urban rednecks that own these damn things. At least in my neighborhood anyway! When they drive past my house, I want nothing more than to throw out a set of Spike Strips just as their doing 45 down a street clearly marked 25. When they get out to complain, I will reach into their car, yank out their radio and throw it right into a fucking pool! Then I will pull up their pants, take the belt, tie the pants over their head with it and kick them square in the ASS!
To all the McSkeezer WannabeMackDaddies out there, and this is for the white ones, stop spending money on making your piece of shit Honda or whatever vehicle that you drive look better. Use the money for something else! You got kids? Buy them a swing set! Take them to Disney World! Do something resourceful and useful for this thriving economy of ours! Don't spend it on rims, please?!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
What The Ghost Adventures Crew Have Done For Me
I became a huge fan of the show back in 2010 when I started to make changes to my life. I will never forget being inside the Willard Intercontinental Hotel in Washington DC on a Friday night. I was having trouble sleeping and I rarely, if ever, go to bed at 9pm. But that was then and this is now. But anyways, I turn on the Travel Channel to see what's on and, lo and behold, there was Zak, Nick and Aaron on a lockdown. Forgive my ever fading memory and don't hang me by my thumbs, but I don't remember the exact episode that I was watching.
And I thought to myself, "Wow! I believe in ghosts, but I never knew there was a show out there like this." Now, I've seen "Ghost Hunters" before and the show was okay. But something about these guys just sparked my interest in the Paranormal and Ghost Hunting. I've always had an interest in doing something like this, but out of fear of being labeled a weirdo, I went and lived a "normal" existence. But, the Ghost Adventures Crew put that spark back into me and for that I thank them.
I will also tell you what else they have done for me. I have been going to Ghost Adventures/Darkness Radio events for over a year now. I really enjoy going to them! Here's the story about my very first event.
It was at The Stanley Hotel in March 2011 and when I got there I didn't know a single person there. I was there by myself and did not know anybody other than those I talked to online. Then, I met Zory, the GAC Intern, and she welcomed me into the GAC Family. Just the kindest, warmest and kick butt person I've ever met. Then I met the Darkness Radio family, who also made me feel welcomed as well. I met Susan, Mallie and Dave, who are just absolutely fantastic hosts. In addition, I got to meet Mark and Debby Constantino, Chris Fleming, Aaron Sagers and Jeff Belanger, another group of awesome people.
Then, I met Zak, Aaron and Billy. The guys who put the spark back in me and made me turn myself around for the absolute best. I was a little shy at first when I met them, nervous too. But, I kept my cool and introduced myself to them. They were really nice to me and autographed their photos for me. Now, it was my birthday but I was too shy to even ask them to wish me a happy birthday. At least I told them later on and I got it! Yay!
After the event at the Stanley ended, I had found myself from having very few close friends to having an ARMY of them. So close we can smell each other's B.O.! However, I knew that I would be coming back for more events.
Three weeks later, I found myself at Ohio State Reformatory and made more new friends in the GAC and Darkness Radio family. But, if there is anything from this event that I have learned, you keep your friends close and stay as far the FUCK AWAY from the Crazies as you possibly can! Enough said!
In the course of the summer, I had come to an epiphany: I am no longer going to go to Disney World every single year for the rest of my life! I am going to do GAC and Darkness Radio events until the day I die and they'll have to find my ass floating around! And here's what my EVP will be: Sunflower.
I am still going to these events so if you happen to be at one of them look for a 5'7" tall red head in glasses wearing a Big Steppin' hoodie. Stop me and I will say hi and figure out if you friended me on Facebook or stalk me on Twitter. Just kidding!
In addition, The Ghost Adventures Crew have taught me a lot at how to conduct myself during an investigation. They taught me to not wear squeaky shoes (Thanks, Zak!), tag my audio whenever I have to sneeze, walk or burp, and to say thank you afterwards for communicating with me. I am also doing non-event investigations as well, too! I have gone out on my own with a team of investigators out of Virginia and we investigated Gettysburg and Bobby Mackey's Music World. I had a lot of fun and I've gotten much more enjoyment out of it than I did when I repeatedly went to Disney World and rode "It's a Small World" over and over again.
Which reminds me...Hey, Zak, if you read this, you do not want to go on "It's A Small World"! LOADED with dolls and, one time I was on there, a doll's head actually exploded off its body and landed in the water near ME! If it had been you, you'd have been swimming for the exit! Enough said!
I now conclude by telling you that the Ghost Adventures Crew has done so much for me. They put the spark AND the spunk back in me to realize what I want to truly do from now until my time has come to pick the place where I will haunt people for eternity, or at least until I find the Light. They have introduced me to people who didn't think they were weird for believing in the same things I thought I was weird for. They have stopped me from doing the same thing every year and have gotten me into something I really want to do over and over again. They may not know this, but they have done more for me than they realize. For that, I humbly thank them and show them nothing but love and respect.
Zak Bagans, Nick Groff, Aaron Goodwin, Billy Tolley, thank you so much!
XOXO Velma
My favorite scene thus far! Zak, I hope you're not still mad about that Clown doll I sent you at ScareFest! ((Hiding Behind Wall))
And I thought to myself, "Wow! I believe in ghosts, but I never knew there was a show out there like this." Now, I've seen "Ghost Hunters" before and the show was okay. But something about these guys just sparked my interest in the Paranormal and Ghost Hunting. I've always had an interest in doing something like this, but out of fear of being labeled a weirdo, I went and lived a "normal" existence. But, the Ghost Adventures Crew put that spark back into me and for that I thank them.
I will also tell you what else they have done for me. I have been going to Ghost Adventures/Darkness Radio events for over a year now. I really enjoy going to them! Here's the story about my very first event.
It was at The Stanley Hotel in March 2011 and when I got there I didn't know a single person there. I was there by myself and did not know anybody other than those I talked to online. Then, I met Zory, the GAC Intern, and she welcomed me into the GAC Family. Just the kindest, warmest and kick butt person I've ever met. Then I met the Darkness Radio family, who also made me feel welcomed as well. I met Susan, Mallie and Dave, who are just absolutely fantastic hosts. In addition, I got to meet Mark and Debby Constantino, Chris Fleming, Aaron Sagers and Jeff Belanger, another group of awesome people.
Then, I met Zak, Aaron and Billy. The guys who put the spark back in me and made me turn myself around for the absolute best. I was a little shy at first when I met them, nervous too. But, I kept my cool and introduced myself to them. They were really nice to me and autographed their photos for me. Now, it was my birthday but I was too shy to even ask them to wish me a happy birthday. At least I told them later on and I got it! Yay!
After the event at the Stanley ended, I had found myself from having very few close friends to having an ARMY of them. So close we can smell each other's B.O.! However, I knew that I would be coming back for more events.
Three weeks later, I found myself at Ohio State Reformatory and made more new friends in the GAC and Darkness Radio family. But, if there is anything from this event that I have learned, you keep your friends close and stay as far the FUCK AWAY from the Crazies as you possibly can! Enough said!
In the course of the summer, I had come to an epiphany: I am no longer going to go to Disney World every single year for the rest of my life! I am going to do GAC and Darkness Radio events until the day I die and they'll have to find my ass floating around! And here's what my EVP will be: Sunflower.
I am still going to these events so if you happen to be at one of them look for a 5'7" tall red head in glasses wearing a Big Steppin' hoodie. Stop me and I will say hi and figure out if you friended me on Facebook or stalk me on Twitter. Just kidding!
In addition, The Ghost Adventures Crew have taught me a lot at how to conduct myself during an investigation. They taught me to not wear squeaky shoes (Thanks, Zak!), tag my audio whenever I have to sneeze, walk or burp, and to say thank you afterwards for communicating with me. I am also doing non-event investigations as well, too! I have gone out on my own with a team of investigators out of Virginia and we investigated Gettysburg and Bobby Mackey's Music World. I had a lot of fun and I've gotten much more enjoyment out of it than I did when I repeatedly went to Disney World and rode "It's a Small World" over and over again.
Which reminds me...Hey, Zak, if you read this, you do not want to go on "It's A Small World"! LOADED with dolls and, one time I was on there, a doll's head actually exploded off its body and landed in the water near ME! If it had been you, you'd have been swimming for the exit! Enough said!
I now conclude by telling you that the Ghost Adventures Crew has done so much for me. They put the spark AND the spunk back in me to realize what I want to truly do from now until my time has come to pick the place where I will haunt people for eternity, or at least until I find the Light. They have introduced me to people who didn't think they were weird for believing in the same things I thought I was weird for. They have stopped me from doing the same thing every year and have gotten me into something I really want to do over and over again. They may not know this, but they have done more for me than they realize. For that, I humbly thank them and show them nothing but love and respect.
Zak Bagans, Nick Groff, Aaron Goodwin, Billy Tolley, thank you so much!
XOXO Velma
My favorite scene thus far! Zak, I hope you're not still mad about that Clown doll I sent you at ScareFest! ((Hiding Behind Wall))
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Justice for Trayvon Martin
Today I turned on the news and saw something that both shocked and angered me. In Sanford, Florida last month, a 17-year-old boy named Trayvon Martin went to the store for some Skittles and Iced Tea. On his way back, he was spotted by a man named George Zimmerman, who thought he looked suspicious and proceeded to call 911. Rather than proceed to let the police come and do their job, he followed Trayvon and caught up with him. Then Mr. Zimmerman accosted him and a scuffle ensued. Another person called 911 to ask police come and intervene on a scuffle occuring outside her house. The shouts of Trayvon could be heard in the 911 call. Shouts for "Help" and "Help Me," but help never came. Mr. Zimmerman shot and killed Trayvon that night, taking the life of a promising young man. When the police arrived, Mr. Zimmerman said he did it in self-defense and that he was doing his duty as a Neighborhood Watch volunteer
Now, you think that's the end of the story, right? Sadly, this is just the beginning of a great injustice. And I am here to tell you why.
George Zimmerman, a man who once aspired to be a cop, suffered from something called "Hero Syndrome" according to an article. He went to college to study criminal justice. He legally carried a gun and took pride in his self-appointed role as Captain of the Night Patrol at the town house commons where he lived. He would go door-to-door telling the neighbors to watch out for "Young Black Men" and go around at night walking his dog and carrying this gun. In addition, he called 911 50 times within a span of months about suspicious activity, windows open, break-ins, etc.
If you ask me, the "job" had clearly gone to his head and upon seeing a "young black male" walk past his window, his overzealousness overcame him in his quest to be a "Hero." Here was his opportunity to become a hero and it was walking past his front window. Right place, right time for Mr. Zimmerman. Wrong time, wrong place for poor Trayvon.
I am in no way shape or form praising Mr. Zimmerman for his "heroic actions." What I see is not heroic at all. I call it an opportunity for murder. A muder in cold blood all for selfish purposes of wanting to be a "Hero."
George Zimmerman, you are no hero at all! Trayvon Martin's blood is on your hands and it is there still. I hope when you go to bed at night that you see his face and you hear his voice still calling for "help" as you so viciously took his life the night of February 26th. In truth, I do not know how you sleep at night knowing that you killed someone and you're walking around free when you ought to be in a jail cell. You are no hero! You are a murderer! A slime bag! And I hope you get what you deserve: LIFE IN PRISON OR THE DEATH PENALTY!
Please, to those of you who read this, please take your time and sign the petition to help bring this young man's killer to justice. Let's show this MURDERER he is not a HERO.
http://www.change.org/petitions/prosecute-the-killer-of-our-son-17-year-old-trayvon-martin
I know nothing can bring Trayvon Martin back, but let's do something and bring justice for his family. Let's put Mr. Zimmerman in jail where he belongs.
Now, you think that's the end of the story, right? Sadly, this is just the beginning of a great injustice. And I am here to tell you why.
George Zimmerman, a man who once aspired to be a cop, suffered from something called "Hero Syndrome" according to an article. He went to college to study criminal justice. He legally carried a gun and took pride in his self-appointed role as Captain of the Night Patrol at the town house commons where he lived. He would go door-to-door telling the neighbors to watch out for "Young Black Men" and go around at night walking his dog and carrying this gun. In addition, he called 911 50 times within a span of months about suspicious activity, windows open, break-ins, etc.
If you ask me, the "job" had clearly gone to his head and upon seeing a "young black male" walk past his window, his overzealousness overcame him in his quest to be a "Hero." Here was his opportunity to become a hero and it was walking past his front window. Right place, right time for Mr. Zimmerman. Wrong time, wrong place for poor Trayvon.
I am in no way shape or form praising Mr. Zimmerman for his "heroic actions." What I see is not heroic at all. I call it an opportunity for murder. A muder in cold blood all for selfish purposes of wanting to be a "Hero."
George Zimmerman, you are no hero at all! Trayvon Martin's blood is on your hands and it is there still. I hope when you go to bed at night that you see his face and you hear his voice still calling for "help" as you so viciously took his life the night of February 26th. In truth, I do not know how you sleep at night knowing that you killed someone and you're walking around free when you ought to be in a jail cell. You are no hero! You are a murderer! A slime bag! And I hope you get what you deserve: LIFE IN PRISON OR THE DEATH PENALTY!
Please, to those of you who read this, please take your time and sign the petition to help bring this young man's killer to justice. Let's show this MURDERER he is not a HERO.
http://www.change.org/petitions/prosecute-the-killer-of-our-son-17-year-old-trayvon-martin
I know nothing can bring Trayvon Martin back, but let's do something and bring justice for his family. Let's put Mr. Zimmerman in jail where he belongs.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Ode To Le Freak: End Of The Drama (Part 4)
Ahh, LC, you have failed to heed my warning, yet you continue. As if my three posts before did not get through to you, I am now forced...er, wait...voluntarily now posting a fourth!
I was informed by Stee that now that you have been called out, you have now taken your dramatic bullshit and have attempted to get an anonymous celebrity to take your side. Yet, that celebrity has a life of their own and has discontinued to listen to your whining baby bullshit. I do not blame them one bit. In addition, another cannot stand being involved in such drama and has asked that she be left out of it. I understand and sympathize with them. I can't take drama and, as a matter of fact, if there is drama, I am like a match in a hurricane: Out instantaneously!
However, since drama is becoming so frequent in my life now that you have made your unfortunate return, I am now going to put an end to it. So, yet another message to LC:
LC, you are taking things WAYYYYY too personally. Those jokes me and Stee shared at that time were definitely not about you and not aimed towards you in any way whatsoever. If I wanted to say something about you, I would consult with you well in advance before I said ANYTHING! In addition, get over yourself, please?! Stop trying to cover for yourself when you know you are wrong for what you did!
With that said, and with the week I have had, can you please get the fuck off my mind! Please do something productive, find a hobby, anything other than bashing people on Twitter!! With this, I bid thee farewell!
I was informed by Stee that now that you have been called out, you have now taken your dramatic bullshit and have attempted to get an anonymous celebrity to take your side. Yet, that celebrity has a life of their own and has discontinued to listen to your whining baby bullshit. I do not blame them one bit. In addition, another cannot stand being involved in such drama and has asked that she be left out of it. I understand and sympathize with them. I can't take drama and, as a matter of fact, if there is drama, I am like a match in a hurricane: Out instantaneously!
However, since drama is becoming so frequent in my life now that you have made your unfortunate return, I am now going to put an end to it. So, yet another message to LC:
LC, you are taking things WAYYYYY too personally. Those jokes me and Stee shared at that time were definitely not about you and not aimed towards you in any way whatsoever. If I wanted to say something about you, I would consult with you well in advance before I said ANYTHING! In addition, get over yourself, please?! Stop trying to cover for yourself when you know you are wrong for what you did!
With that said, and with the week I have had, can you please get the fuck off my mind! Please do something productive, find a hobby, anything other than bashing people on Twitter!! With this, I bid thee farewell!
Ode To Le Freak: Loshon Hora (Part 3)
So I got word that LC found out about my calling her out and now is trying to cover her ass. Well, I am here to tell you that once you're called out, you have just stepped into quick sand with me. Once you've stepped in, you will sink quickly and won't be able to come up for air.
I have had nothing but grief and migraines with LC over the past couple of years. I want it to end, but it seems that once she has disappeared she comes back with a major vengeance. I am trying to live my life without worry, but it seems that once things are on the up that LC makes an appearance.
Now, to these current events, I must respond by saying the following: Now you know how it feels to be humiliated. You humiliated Stee to the point where she was blocked for no reason other than what was based on your "Loshon Hora." Don't know what "Loshon Hora" means?! It's "bad talk" or gossip. In the community where I work, this is strictly forbidden. "Loshon Hora" hurts not only the person being spoken about, but it hurts the people that care for them as well as others around them. It's like gangrene: It spreads until finally the part of them heavily affected has to be cut away.
If you want to save face, LC, you will stop speaking "Loshon Hora" about someone I consider to be one of the truest friends I have. She knows when to hold them and when to fold them. Knows when to walk away when the dealing's done.
Now, with that said, take yourself off of Twitter and stop poisoning our air with your falsehoods.
I have had nothing but grief and migraines with LC over the past couple of years. I want it to end, but it seems that once she has disappeared she comes back with a major vengeance. I am trying to live my life without worry, but it seems that once things are on the up that LC makes an appearance.
Now, to these current events, I must respond by saying the following: Now you know how it feels to be humiliated. You humiliated Stee to the point where she was blocked for no reason other than what was based on your "Loshon Hora." Don't know what "Loshon Hora" means?! It's "bad talk" or gossip. In the community where I work, this is strictly forbidden. "Loshon Hora" hurts not only the person being spoken about, but it hurts the people that care for them as well as others around them. It's like gangrene: It spreads until finally the part of them heavily affected has to be cut away.
If you want to save face, LC, you will stop speaking "Loshon Hora" about someone I consider to be one of the truest friends I have. She knows when to hold them and when to fold them. Knows when to walk away when the dealing's done.
Now, with that said, take yourself off of Twitter and stop poisoning our air with your falsehoods.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Sitting Shiva
I woke up this morning, despite my fatigue, and did not smell any coffee. However, what I did wake up to was nothing good. Nothing good at all. I woke up to find that my paternal grandfather had passed away. I was devastated and went to work with blood shot eyes and this weight on my shoulders. A weight the size of the Empire State Building. I could not carry on despite the feeling of enduring. I'm only human and I have my limits like everybody else.
Although I am standing on wood, I feel that the wood beneath my feet has begun to degrade. First, my grandfather, then both grandmothers and now my paternal grandfather. Although it's not fair, I feel things happen for a reason. God gives us things and then takes them away for a reason only because he loves us and wants us to learn.
To this, I just want to say, "God, I've learned enough already! You've given me obesity and I've overcome it! You've given me heartache and I've learned to walk away from it! You gave me strength and I am still learning how to wield it. Please give me a break?! But, I know that you mean well. You give me lessons despite the fact that I beg to learn no more. But, to this, you tell me that I still must be given lessons on how to live life."
I have endured so much over the 31 years I have lived on this Earth. I have learned so much and have experienced so many wonderful and terrible things. From each of these things, I am not the least bit sorry for going through. Despite the pain I had to go through, I am grateful for the journey I had to take in order to stand again. In layman's terms, I have ran the full measure, stumbled and gotten back on my feet. I dusted myself off and carried on, still running. For this, God, I thank you.
Sitting Shiva might be considered to be just sitting on a couch without shoes and a tear in your clothes, but it means so much more. When you lose someone you love, you are no longer wealthy. Your Versace shoes mean nothing nor do your Christian Dior silk shirts. When someone you love passes, you lose more than just a piece of yourself. You lose a bit of your spirit as well as your happiness.
My grandparents, both sides, will always be with me despite the fact that they are deceased. I will always keep them with me. Their advice and wisdom will stay with me. Forever.
Although I am standing on wood, I feel that the wood beneath my feet has begun to degrade. First, my grandfather, then both grandmothers and now my paternal grandfather. Although it's not fair, I feel things happen for a reason. God gives us things and then takes them away for a reason only because he loves us and wants us to learn.
To this, I just want to say, "God, I've learned enough already! You've given me obesity and I've overcome it! You've given me heartache and I've learned to walk away from it! You gave me strength and I am still learning how to wield it. Please give me a break?! But, I know that you mean well. You give me lessons despite the fact that I beg to learn no more. But, to this, you tell me that I still must be given lessons on how to live life."
I have endured so much over the 31 years I have lived on this Earth. I have learned so much and have experienced so many wonderful and terrible things. From each of these things, I am not the least bit sorry for going through. Despite the pain I had to go through, I am grateful for the journey I had to take in order to stand again. In layman's terms, I have ran the full measure, stumbled and gotten back on my feet. I dusted myself off and carried on, still running. For this, God, I thank you.
Sitting Shiva might be considered to be just sitting on a couch without shoes and a tear in your clothes, but it means so much more. When you lose someone you love, you are no longer wealthy. Your Versace shoes mean nothing nor do your Christian Dior silk shirts. When someone you love passes, you lose more than just a piece of yourself. You lose a bit of your spirit as well as your happiness.
My grandparents, both sides, will always be with me despite the fact that they are deceased. I will always keep them with me. Their advice and wisdom will stay with me. Forever.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
In Your Dreams: Ode to ZISHES (Parody of Daydream Believer)
This came about after too much Mucinex DM so if you like it, I love you. If you don't, bite me! So here it goes.
**Piano intro to Daydream Believer**
Ohh I could hide 'neath the halls of the blue bird as she sings
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But six rings and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
I see you walk down the halls and you stank!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To A Daydream believer and A
Whore-cumming ZISH!
You once thought of him as a White knight on his steed!
Now you know how foolish you must be! And that good time starts and
then with a condom twice to spend.
But how much, skanky, do you really have?
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming Zish!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming Zish!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming ZISH!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh what can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming Zish!
Sing along, hum it, this is how I feel! BUWAHAHAH! Ode to the Mansfield Skankoids April 2011.
**Piano intro to Daydream Believer**
Ohh I could hide 'neath the halls of the blue bird as she sings
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But six rings and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
I see you walk down the halls and you stank!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To A Daydream believer and A
Whore-cumming ZISH!
You once thought of him as a White knight on his steed!
Now you know how foolish you must be! And that good time starts and
then with a condom twice to spend.
But how much, skanky, do you really have?
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming Zish!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming Zish!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh What can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming ZISH!
Cheer up Sleepy ZISH, Oh what can it mean
To a Daydream Believer and A
Whore-Cumming Zish!
Sing along, hum it, this is how I feel! BUWAHAHAH! Ode to the Mansfield Skankoids April 2011.
My Roots: God Made Me Interesting
Like anybody, I have pride in my heritage, the culture which runs through my blood. Now, a few years back, I started to do some research into exactly what was running through my veins. Where exactly did my family come from? So, I asked members of my family and got various answers.
"You're Sicilian and Irish."
"You're Italian, period!"
"You're Irish, Italian, German and Czech!"
There were other variations, but with time and effort, I managed to break it down from both the maternal and paternal side. So, let's start with my mom's side first.
Maternal Grandmother: Italian and Greek. Her parents came from the province of Puglia, from the town of Brindisi. Puglia is the "heel" of Italy and is quite close to Greece. I was then informed that my great great grandmother is buried on the island of Corfu in Greece, which is where she came from. Therefore, my grandmother is of Italian and Greek origin.
Maternal Grandfather 1: Irish. My grandmother was married twice and this is never, ever talked about...until now. Maternal Grandfather's last name was Grant and the Grants were of Irish decent. I never truly acknowledged him due to the fact that neither my mother nor grandmother rarely told me about him. When I was a little girl, I got to meet him once and that was the only time. Why? Well, when your grandfather is known as "The Town Drunk" you'd want to distance yourself from that, right?
Maternal Grandfather 2: Italian and Sicilian. My grandmother's second husband, whom I consider to be my true grandfather, was the only father figure I had growing up. His parents came from two different parts of Italy. My great grandfather came from the town of Monteferrante, which means "Foot of the Mountain." This town is located in the province of Abbruzzo in Central Italy. My great grandmother came from the island of Sicily, which is a whole different kind of Italian in and of itself.
And now onto my dad's side and what I have is not much.
Paternal Grandmother: Polish Jewish. My late grandmother's family came here from Poland after the Holocaust to have a better life and to escape from the horrible memories of the camps. Her family came from Warsaw and were simple, hard-working Jewish folks. You know the whole story.
Paternal Grandfather: Russian/Polish Jewish. My grandfather, who is still kicking, and his family came from Lodz and Leningrad. They, like my grandmother's family, also came to America after the Holocaust. His side was also hard-working and they prospered, becoming a prominent, well-known family in the Maryland/Virginia area. They are in lighting, all I'm going to say.
Told you I didn't have much on my paternal side.
So, what does it all boil down to? Well, I will boil it down to this:
When my mom and dad hooked up and created me, God said to himself, "Hmm, an Italian girl and a good Jewish boy, huh? This kid is going to be interesting!" So, he got a bowl and took a look at the ingredients known as "DNA."
"Okay, this is going to be a baby girl so let's see...bah bah bah...gotta give her that good ole Jewish Mother guilt. She has to have that. There we go! And now a little something from her mother and...Oh, no! She's Greek! Oh, dear ME! I cannot leave out the nagging, cannot leave out the nagging. Ohh! Give her a little bit of that and add a little bit of "Talking Too Loudly" and "Tempermental Drunk." That should do it! And now back to dad and...oh, dear...Russian. I do not know what's worse: The Tempermental Irish Drunk or the Mad Dancing Russian Drunk. Let's put some in and see what happens! What do we have left? Okay, let's make her smart, but throw in a little bit of forgetfulness. Makes her more interesting. And, just to make her even more interesting...an extra touch of BITCH! And now let her bake for nine months and see how she comes out."
So here I am, ladies and gents, how do you think I turned out?
And now some folk songs from my lovely mixed up bloodline. Enjoy!
"You're Sicilian and Irish."
"You're Italian, period!"
"You're Irish, Italian, German and Czech!"
There were other variations, but with time and effort, I managed to break it down from both the maternal and paternal side. So, let's start with my mom's side first.
Maternal Grandmother: Italian and Greek. Her parents came from the province of Puglia, from the town of Brindisi. Puglia is the "heel" of Italy and is quite close to Greece. I was then informed that my great great grandmother is buried on the island of Corfu in Greece, which is where she came from. Therefore, my grandmother is of Italian and Greek origin.
Maternal Grandfather 1: Irish. My grandmother was married twice and this is never, ever talked about...until now. Maternal Grandfather's last name was Grant and the Grants were of Irish decent. I never truly acknowledged him due to the fact that neither my mother nor grandmother rarely told me about him. When I was a little girl, I got to meet him once and that was the only time. Why? Well, when your grandfather is known as "The Town Drunk" you'd want to distance yourself from that, right?
Maternal Grandfather 2: Italian and Sicilian. My grandmother's second husband, whom I consider to be my true grandfather, was the only father figure I had growing up. His parents came from two different parts of Italy. My great grandfather came from the town of Monteferrante, which means "Foot of the Mountain." This town is located in the province of Abbruzzo in Central Italy. My great grandmother came from the island of Sicily, which is a whole different kind of Italian in and of itself.
And now onto my dad's side and what I have is not much.
Paternal Grandmother: Polish Jewish. My late grandmother's family came here from Poland after the Holocaust to have a better life and to escape from the horrible memories of the camps. Her family came from Warsaw and were simple, hard-working Jewish folks. You know the whole story.
Paternal Grandfather: Russian/Polish Jewish. My grandfather, who is still kicking, and his family came from Lodz and Leningrad. They, like my grandmother's family, also came to America after the Holocaust. His side was also hard-working and they prospered, becoming a prominent, well-known family in the Maryland/Virginia area. They are in lighting, all I'm going to say.
Told you I didn't have much on my paternal side.
So, what does it all boil down to? Well, I will boil it down to this:
When my mom and dad hooked up and created me, God said to himself, "Hmm, an Italian girl and a good Jewish boy, huh? This kid is going to be interesting!" So, he got a bowl and took a look at the ingredients known as "DNA."
"Okay, this is going to be a baby girl so let's see...bah bah bah...gotta give her that good ole Jewish Mother guilt. She has to have that. There we go! And now a little something from her mother and...Oh, no! She's Greek! Oh, dear ME! I cannot leave out the nagging, cannot leave out the nagging. Ohh! Give her a little bit of that and add a little bit of "Talking Too Loudly" and "Tempermental Drunk." That should do it! And now back to dad and...oh, dear...Russian. I do not know what's worse: The Tempermental Irish Drunk or the Mad Dancing Russian Drunk. Let's put some in and see what happens! What do we have left? Okay, let's make her smart, but throw in a little bit of forgetfulness. Makes her more interesting. And, just to make her even more interesting...an extra touch of BITCH! And now let her bake for nine months and see how she comes out."
So here I am, ladies and gents, how do you think I turned out?
And now some folk songs from my lovely mixed up bloodline. Enjoy!
Friday, March 9, 2012
Tonight's "Ghost Adventures" and the Issue of Sex Trafficking
Tonight's premiere of "Ghost Adventures" was not just another episode about capturing spirit voices through a Spirit Box or a PX device. It became so much more than that. It not only opened our eyes that spirits do exist in another way and can live amongst us. Tonight's episode opened our eyes to something many know about, but some feel helpless to stop: Sex and Human Trafficking.
The Place: Portland, Oregon. The Shanghai Tunnels. In the 19th century, the practice of "Shanghai-ing" human beings was in full swing. Unknown victims would go to brothels, bordellos or even underground pubs not realizing that they might be spotted by these pimps and tagged. They would be drugged and then sent into slavery to these sea captains waiting at port.
You think that the practice of Shanghai-ing ended with the close of the 19th, even the 20th century. We are wrong! To this day, this practice continues in the form of Human and Sex Trafficking, known also as Prostitution.
Some stories go like this: A young girl, sometimes before she even turns the age of 13, often feeling like her parents do not understand her. She wants to grow up faster, thinks she knows everything about anything. So, she begins to rebel, not just gradually but sometimes over night. She begins to wear clothing her parents object to. She hangs around with people whom her parents know to be a bad influence on their daughter. Because of these negative peers, they somehow convince her to run away and be free of her parents' rules and regulations. She is convinced, thinking she would have a better life without them telling her what to do, what to wear and whom she can spend time with. So, without a word, their daughter leaves home and never returns.
That same young girl, now a woman on the streets, is soon met by some man who says he can give her everything her own father could never give her: Love and attention. He convinces her further by promising her money and a place to live where she can wear nice clothes. That woman is very much convinced of this man's promises and she falls under his spell. Then, time passes and the promises turn into threats of violence and those threats give way to the ultimate form of hate: Violent Assaults. This man has now become her pimp. He isn't showing her the love he promised her. He is showing her that she is his "property" and that he "owns" her body. And if she does try to run or go to the police or even go home, he would find her and punish her. So she stays.
That young girl, no longer a woman, but property made to walk the streets in all kinds of weather, is now standing at the corner of some Red Light District. She stands there, sometimes in the snow, shivering and begging to go some place warm just to wait for a "date." But she cannot because, from a distance, her pimp is watching her. As she stands there freezing, she looks back on her life before this. When she was someone's little girl. When she was truly loved not by her pimp, but by her parents, who are definitely home waiting for her to return so they could, once again, tell her that they loved her and that they missed her terribly.
A lot of these young girls who are now women of the night came from this very story that I just told. They had parents who loved them, but because of peer pressure and feeling misunderstood, they ran away thinking there was a better life for them out there. But what they got was a living hell. Some managed to escape it and survive. There are a few who tried and lost their lives trying to escape the lifestyle they came into.
It saddens me to know that the practice of Human Trafficking and Child Sex Rings exist in this modern day and age. We are aware that this is "common" practice in some Asian countries, but we never in our right minds ever think it could be occuring here on our very own soil. That is, until tonight's premiere episode of "Ghost Adventures." In the episode, a young woman was arrested for prostitution. They blurred her face out and disguised her voice to protect her identity. Turns out she was a fan of the show. Tragic. Very tragic.
I am grateful for my mom being strict on me as a teenager despite my many rebellious streaks. If it weren't for her, I would not be the person that I am today. So, to those teenaged girls out there who feel like their parents don't love them and they want to run away from it all, your parents do love you. However, they love you enough to protect you from the bad that is out there.
The Place: Portland, Oregon. The Shanghai Tunnels. In the 19th century, the practice of "Shanghai-ing" human beings was in full swing. Unknown victims would go to brothels, bordellos or even underground pubs not realizing that they might be spotted by these pimps and tagged. They would be drugged and then sent into slavery to these sea captains waiting at port.
You think that the practice of Shanghai-ing ended with the close of the 19th, even the 20th century. We are wrong! To this day, this practice continues in the form of Human and Sex Trafficking, known also as Prostitution.
Some stories go like this: A young girl, sometimes before she even turns the age of 13, often feeling like her parents do not understand her. She wants to grow up faster, thinks she knows everything about anything. So, she begins to rebel, not just gradually but sometimes over night. She begins to wear clothing her parents object to. She hangs around with people whom her parents know to be a bad influence on their daughter. Because of these negative peers, they somehow convince her to run away and be free of her parents' rules and regulations. She is convinced, thinking she would have a better life without them telling her what to do, what to wear and whom she can spend time with. So, without a word, their daughter leaves home and never returns.
That same young girl, now a woman on the streets, is soon met by some man who says he can give her everything her own father could never give her: Love and attention. He convinces her further by promising her money and a place to live where she can wear nice clothes. That woman is very much convinced of this man's promises and she falls under his spell. Then, time passes and the promises turn into threats of violence and those threats give way to the ultimate form of hate: Violent Assaults. This man has now become her pimp. He isn't showing her the love he promised her. He is showing her that she is his "property" and that he "owns" her body. And if she does try to run or go to the police or even go home, he would find her and punish her. So she stays.
That young girl, no longer a woman, but property made to walk the streets in all kinds of weather, is now standing at the corner of some Red Light District. She stands there, sometimes in the snow, shivering and begging to go some place warm just to wait for a "date." But she cannot because, from a distance, her pimp is watching her. As she stands there freezing, she looks back on her life before this. When she was someone's little girl. When she was truly loved not by her pimp, but by her parents, who are definitely home waiting for her to return so they could, once again, tell her that they loved her and that they missed her terribly.
A lot of these young girls who are now women of the night came from this very story that I just told. They had parents who loved them, but because of peer pressure and feeling misunderstood, they ran away thinking there was a better life for them out there. But what they got was a living hell. Some managed to escape it and survive. There are a few who tried and lost their lives trying to escape the lifestyle they came into.
It saddens me to know that the practice of Human Trafficking and Child Sex Rings exist in this modern day and age. We are aware that this is "common" practice in some Asian countries, but we never in our right minds ever think it could be occuring here on our very own soil. That is, until tonight's premiere episode of "Ghost Adventures." In the episode, a young woman was arrested for prostitution. They blurred her face out and disguised her voice to protect her identity. Turns out she was a fan of the show. Tragic. Very tragic.
I am grateful for my mom being strict on me as a teenager despite my many rebellious streaks. If it weren't for her, I would not be the person that I am today. So, to those teenaged girls out there who feel like their parents don't love them and they want to run away from it all, your parents do love you. However, they love you enough to protect you from the bad that is out there.
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