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Creating Sanity

February 25, 2020

The news cycle of the last few weeks has me feeling like I’m losing my mind. So, I decided to take a break from the news for a week. Thing is, it’s really hard to break a routine and my routine was having a news channel on in the background all day.

Yesterday, I binged The Stranger on Netflix and finished up the last two episodes early today (by the way, highly recommend). Then I took a bath. And then, I flipped through all the channels to find something else to watch. Did you know there’s actually a show about people who voluntarily go to jail for 60 days?! I thought Naked & Afraid was horrific, but jail seems much, much worse (note to self: don’t go to jail).

Anyhoo, the jail show wasn’t cutting it for me. So, I decided to paint. I haven’t painted in forever. My daughter is quite a talented artist and she once told me the reason she started painting was because of an old painting I did that still hangs in our house. It’s really not a great painting, but when I look at it, it reminds me of a time when I used to be creative. It also reminds me of a time when being creative made me feel alive.

So, I decided to give it a wing again. I painted something last week, but I wasn’t terribly happy with it. Today, I gave it another go round, and while it’s not museum worthy, I don’t mind sharing it. Perhaps, it will inspire you to create something or share something you’ve created.

We certainly need to continue paying attention to what’s happening in our country. But we also need to be mindful of self care. However cliché it sounds, it’s like the instructions you hear at the beginning of a flight: put your oxygen mask on before trying to help others.

Creating is my oxygen mask. Now, put yours on, too. We have a long road ahead.

Menage a Trois: More Creepy Valentines

February 10, 2020

So, I’ve been bombarding you with heavy stuff and cussing a lot (LOL JK I’m not going to stop cussing), so I thought I’d get back to my roots and write some funny stuff. Some of my favorite blogs are the Creepy Valentines (click here for Part 1 and Part 2) and since it’s February (although sometimes it still feels like January), I grabbed a cocktail or 5 and hit the google to see what I could find.

I have to say I’m torn between being disturbed and laughing my ass off. As I mentioned before, it seems like vintage Valentine’s cards all have 3 central themes: guns, violence, and phallic symbols, which all seems quite odd for a holiday devoted to love. But then I remembered that St. Valentine got his head chopped off and then it all made perfect sense! So in honor of the decapitated St. Valentine, let’s look at some creepy Valentine’s Day cards of yesteryear.

Hey Twitter followers! I found the perfect card for the object of your affection. I think that’s all I need to say about that.
I think he got too close to her butt and now he has a black eye. Obviously, she’s a Facebook girl.
If your lady isn’t stabbing you, is it even real? The guy who gets this card has 99 problems and the bitch is all the problems. Red is the color of love, after all.
See our obsession with guns isn’t a new thing. For hundreds of years, women have had to worry about deranged men shooting them for unrequited love. The recipient of this card needs a protection order, stun gun, and Rottweiler.
Swipe left.
Swipe right. Because you love a girl who’s a little crazy.
Now here is some kink. We’ve got some bestiality, some sort of simulated oral sex with a banana, possibly some child porn. I don’t know who this is trying to turn on, but as Susan Collins would say, it’s very concerning.
Hey, kids! I think this right here is the birth of shade. I mean sure, there’s still that element of bestiality (never thought I’d type that twice in the same blog), but that burn is deep.
Ladies, if his hose is burning, don’t touch that shit, unless you have an excellent employer sponsored health care program. But even then, do you have sick leave for all the doctor appointments that burning hose is going to inflict? Plus, are you sure those droplets don’t have the Corona Virus?
My sources tell me this is the official White House VD card for this year. Personally, I wouldn’t let that dick get anywhere near my nether regions, because I’m worth more than $130K. Be Best!
Happy VD, Rush.

I hope you have the best February 14th ever & I hope you get some good stuff for VD, and not the VD.



February 5, 2020

To all of you who have said:

Elections don’t matter

Both parties are the same

Both candidates are horrible

The Congress will keep him in check

But, Obama…

But, Bill Clinton…

I didn’t vote

Well, the economy is good sooo…

Look at the stock market!

Her emails

We need civility

You’re just a libtard


Shithole countries

If they didn’t want to be separated from their kids, they shouldn’t have come here

Well, history will judge them poorly

It doesn’t affect me so I don’t care

Politics are dumb

Get over it

There are very fine people on both sides

Yes, asking for a foreign country to intercede in our elections is horrible, but it doesn’t warrant removal from office

He learned his lesson

Fuck you. Then fuck you again harder. And then fuck you once again with 2 dicks. Without lube.

It’s a New Decade. Quit Being an Asshole

February 3, 2020

Though I’ve slacked and not done this list for a couple of years, I’ve decided to do one for 2020. In my defense, I wasn’t being my normal slack ass. I actually had a job and my bosses were the political types and I didn’t want my lack luster online life ruining their illustrious careers. Now that I’m a freelancer, I can say whatever I want and I only have to worry about people ruining my illustrious non-career of outing my friends on Facebook for being racists asshats.

So if you aren’t a follower of this blog (and why aren’t you?), you may not know that I make a list of things that I would like to see go away in the New Year. Hang on to your panties, because they’re probably gonna get in a twist.

Now I addressed my number one in the last blog I wrote, which you can read here. If you are a lazy ass and don’t want to click on the link and read it, I basically said that we need to cancel racist, sexist, xenophobic assholes. 

OK, hang on to your britches. No fucks given after this point.

Mass Shootings. The only time in the history of America that the solution to the problem included more of what was causing the problem. Can you imagine if the solution to the opioid epidemic was to give people more drugs? Do you really need an assault rifle? I own guns. I enjoy shooting targets. I have never once felt that my rights as an American citizen were impeded because I didn’t have a multitude of assault rifles to protect myself. But I have considered not attending a public place because I’m worried about some asshole shooting up the place and killing me.

Nail pics. Perhaps perfectly acceptable for Instagram, however, not acceptable for weekly HR updates. My last job, the lady who sent out the weekly HR updates always included a pic of her weekly nail art. I think I speak for most people who never felt they could speak up, FUCK YOUR NAILS, PENELOPE. No one actually gives a fuck. And those people who perhaps made some sort of convo with you that led you to believe we are cared about your nails were just being polite. Also, Penelope, when HR is asking us to be professional, you probably shouldn’t share your nail pics with a little quip about how you’re doing a bar crawl in Chicago and that’s why you couldn’t make the company fundraiser for people with substance use disorder. But I’m the one without a job because I reported HIPAA violations and was retaliated against. LOL.

Cancer. It’s 2020. Shouldn’t we have a cure for this shit yet? I feel like the drug companies don’t have any incentive for curing anything. They just make up drugs with names that have an inordinate number of the letters Q, X, K, and J that we can’t pronounce and have horrific side effects. You have eczema? Well take this drug that will cure your skin condition, but may cause cancer. Do you have diabetes? We can cure that, but the side effect is a fatal bacterial infection in your perineum. Not trying to be gross, but that’s your taint. Because having diabetes isn’t bad enough, now you have to worry about your taint killing you. For fuck’s sake people, you expect more from Burger King to get your $7 drive thru order right, why not expect these fucking bloodsuckers to cure your disease for $500 a month?

Attack on Women’s Healthcare. Some dumbfuck in Ohio is trying to pass legislation that would require a doctor to re-implant an ectopic pregnancy. This isn’t even an actual medical procedure. He used a medical journal from the early 1900’s because medical technology hasn’t progressed since then.  Can you imagine the outrage if lawmakers were making laws about what guys could do with their dicks based on science from 1917? Listen folks, women can only have 1 baby every 9 months. Men can impregnate a countless number of women every day. Math tells me women are not the problem here. So why are we trying to legislate their uteruses? Wouldn’t it make more sense to legislate the all the sperm causing pregnancies? Of course it would, but we keep electing old white guys to make laws and unfortunately, those are the same people whose sperm is wrecking havoc on society.

Voting. We have to stop this relentless attack on voting rights. Put a stop to gerrymandering. Quit purging the voter rolls. Stop hindering people who have been convicted of crimes from voting. The US incarcerates more people than any other industrialized nation and of those incarcerated, the majority are people of color, the poor, and women. Those people are the majority of your electorate. Shouldn’t they have a say in who represents them? I mean the whole Boston Tea Party was about taxation without representation. As you read this there are really rich white people making millions of dollars from legalized marijuana while black people languish in jail from marijuana charges. There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from serving in Congress, yet that same person can’t vote? That’s absurd. And racist. 

DUS loop. Did you know the number one crime in the US is driving under a license suspension? Did you know that most of the people who are convicted of this crime become tangled into a loop of fines and court costs that it is virtually impossible to escape the maze without help from an attorney and the kindness of local forgiveness programs? The fact of the matter is that this is a death sentence for Americans in rural areas who don’t have access to public transportation. They can’t get to work, medical appointments, or their court hearings about their DUS charges. They often lose visitation to their kids, rack up child support bills, and have no hope of escaping the maze. Do you feel safer being protected from these hardened criminals?

Criminalizing Substance Use Disorder. Imagine having a chronic disease and facing jail every time you fucked up. Are you diabetic who decided to have a cupcake? Go to jail. Got heart disease? You didn’t exercise today. Go to jail. Got cancer? You smoked today. Go to jail. Seems ridiculous right? Whether you like it or not, every time you think that someone with substance use disorder should go to jail for slipping, you’re opening the door to being jailed yourself for your misgivings. No one would argue that someone addicted to sugar or nicotine should be jailed for their addiction, why are you advocating for someone addicted to heroin be jailed for theirs? This is a health issue, not a criminal issue. I’d also add that when you send someone addicted to opiates to jail, you are sentencing them to death. Your tolerance for opiates decreases with non-use. So a person who’s been in jail for an extended period may decide upon release to use again, and that dose could be fatal for them. So what, right? They’re addicts. Yeah, they are addicts. They also have people who love them – parents, kids, sisters, brothers. (Also, instead of calling them addicts, let’s start referring to them as people with substance use disorder). The opioid epidemic is creating a generation of orphans. It would actually be more cost effective to get people treatment and prevent the trauma of these orphans, if you’re more concerned about taxing the economy as opposed to doing the decent human thing.

Ten versions of the same selfie. OK, I get it. You took 20 selfies and you narrowed it down to 10 and you just can’t decide which one you look the cutest in. Gonna let you in on a little secret. If you only post one, we wont know that the other 9 were as equally good or that one was better than the other. You will still get your likes and we won’t be subjected to a multitude of similar shots. Have some fucking thoughts for your fellow mankind on the social medias. Yes your page is all about you and you can do whatever the fuck you want. And I will block your ass for being a narcissistic asswipe, which will result in less likes. See how that works?

trump. I saved the best for last. If you don’t think it affects you, then you aren’t paying attention. 16,241 lies in the last 3 years. Kids in cages. Travel ban from “shithole” countries. Tax break for millionaires. Election interference from foreign countries. Profiting off the presidency. Cutting Medicaid and Social Security Disability. Rolling back environmental protections. Rolling back nutrition guidelines for schools. Farmers going bankrupt. But hey, the stock market is doing great! Do you have stocks? Yeah, I don’t. Do you have a 409K? Probably not because that isn’t even a thing, but yet the dumbass in chief tweets about it. Nevertheless, honestly it would be more important to me that Americans could get healthcare, fair wages, and not have to worry about getting murdered at church. But I digress. None of this is normal. You wouldn’t have accepted this 4, 8, 12, 16 years ago. Why are you now? Wake the fuck up before all your liberties are gone. You can’t vote solely for your pocket book and then cry about all the other things you’ve lost. The sicker, dumber, and poorer you are, the better for him. Stop voting against your interests because you’re afraid of black and brown people. Trust me, they aren’t your enemy. You know who is? The super rich white guy hoarding so much money it would take 80 of his progeny throwing money out the window to even spend a fraction of their wealth. Our congress just gave him carte blanche to cheat in the next election. Are you OK with Russia, China, or even South Korea selecting our next president? Because that’s what’s going to happen.

Of course, I can’t include everything that we need to see go away this year because that would be a fucking novel. Actually kinda surprised you stuck this out to the end. But I encourage you to share yours, I’d love to hear them.

Be a Better Human

January 13, 2020

There are many things I’d like to see go away in 2020 (and I’ll write about that later), but I wanted to give this topic special attention. Lately, I hear a lot of white people bitching and moaning because they’re being called out on shit that they are used to doing all in “good fun” that is actually racist and/or sexist and they don’t want to give up their “good fun” because it “triggers” others.

For example, when I was in high school we played the dumb circle game. I know you know what I’m talking about after the dumbasses at the Army-Navy game. If you don’t, you can Google it. Back in the 80s & 90s this was an annoyingly dumb game that kids played during study hall. Somewhere along the line, white supremacists decided to adopt the circle hand gesture as their own. And I’m not so naïve that I don’t think this wasn’t done on purpose. Racist, sexist dumbfucks are pretty lazy and rarely come up with new and novel ideas to sow their hate. So now, you can’t play this game without being labeled a white supremacist. But here’s the kicker – people are mad that they can’t play the dumb game. They aren’t mad that white supremacists hijacked their game and they can’t play it anymore. Which by the way, why aren’t all y’all raising hell with the white supremacists for hijacking your game instead of the rest of us who take issue with white supremacist hand gestures?

I often hear people use the excuse that they themselves haven’t experienced a phenomenon and because of that, it doesn’t exist. Great theory, but completely flawed. See white people can’t experience discrimination because by definition, discrimination is the oppression of the minority by the majority. Here in America, white people are not the minority. And don’t you white people start coming at me with the reverse discrimination argument. This is not a thing. Perhaps you are experiencing the inability to continue being a racist ass, but that by definition, is not discrimination. Perhaps it’s an inconvenience for you, but it is not hindering your ability to make a living, find housing, maintain employment, or not be arrested or shot because your skin isn’t white.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to argue with other women that the gender pay gap is a myth or that sexism is a fallacy – because they haven’t experienced it personally. I am a woman and I have experienced both. I have worked alongside men in similar capacities where I’ve had more time on the job and more education and I have been paid less. I have had bosses rate my physical appearance on a numerical scale. I’ve heard the same boss make comments about my female coworkers’ weight or sexual appeal. I have been labeled “volatile, negative, and difficult” for speaking out about it. I have been passed over for promotion to outside candidates because I wouldn’t adhere to a harmful status quo.

And you know what? I don’t regret it one fucking bit. I didn’t sell my soul, my values, or my morals to a corrupt organization. As a matter of fact, I blew the whistle in the face of that corruption and when the retaliation was too much to bear, I quit. Yeah, I miss the money, but they weren’t paying me enough to ruin my good reputation and sell out the people of my community in the name of the almighty dollar. 

Perhaps when my grandma was instilling these values into me she didn’t mean for me to take them so literally, but I did. I don’t wish to capitalize off of someone else’s misfortune. I don’t want to get a leg up by pushing someone else down. And by the way, when did it become a badge of honor to cause mental anguish on someone? They like to call it “triggering” but I, along with most mental health professionals, like to call it emotional and verbal abuse. It’s not cool and if you’re Christian, it certainly doesn’t fall within the teachings of Christ. I’m not even Christian, and I sure as hell don’t need a book telling me that treating my fellow human beings ethically and morally is the right thing to do.

Y’all, this isn’t hard. If a black or brown person tells you that something is racist, you believe them. If a woman tells you she’s been sexually abused, you believe her. If a trans person tells you they’ve been violated, you believe them. You ask how you can help and then you take what they say to heart and you use your voice of privilege to make change. You DO NOT engage in blaming the victim or playing victim because of a slight inconvenience in your daily routine.

Two hundred and forty three years ago, this country was founded upon a community of immigrants seeking freedom from oppression. Isn’t it high time that we take this to heart and accept that our differences make us stronger?

Hi, I’m back. Drinking cocktails and writing my senator like any good American would do.

October 31, 2019

portmanHi Rob,

I hope this email finds you well. I’m worried you haven’t been receiving my correspondence, as I’ve written to you quite a bit lately and you have yet to respond.

I noticed yesterday that you took the time to make a brief statement that you felt it was wrong for trump to ask a foreign government for help with his re-election campaign, but you didn’t feel it was an impeachable offense. So Rob, (I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your first name since I’m technically your employer), I’m wondering, what exactly would you classify as an impeachable offense? Apparently, you were bothered enough by the illegal withholding of aid to the Ukraine unless the request to fabricate dirt on Biden was fulfilled that you actually made a call to the White House on September 11, 2019 (!), to ask that he release the money.

I did a little research and I’d like to remind you of your own words during the Clinton impeachment:

“After careful consideration, I have concluded that President Clinton has committed serious offenses that merit impeachment…obstructing justice and abusing the power of the presidency violate the rule of law that all citizens—even the President—must obey. And, of course, these acts are fundamentally inconsistent with the oath the President…

 I am also concerned because the President—by the very nature of his office—has a special responsibility to set an example. At a minimum, there cannot be one standard for the President and another for the citizens he serves…”

I hope, Rob, that you will take some time to reflect upon the Constitution of the United States, as well as our laws and your values, and come to the realization that this man is a danger to our country. I know that you are fully aware that you serve the people of Ohio (not trump) and you took an oath to uphold the Constitution. It seems that you have enough self awareness and personal respect for the “dignity of the presidency” and the country itself to recognize the standard to which the Commander-in-Chief must be held — that is, unless you, an elected official of the U.S. Senate, are despicably putting party over nation.

You are in the unique position of not being up for re-election until 2022, so I’m not quite sure why you fear trump’s ire. In fact, Rob, you’re actually in a position to stop this madness and quite possibly be a hero in the annals of history.

But, if you do nothing — well then, I can only assume you support foreign interference in US elections, violating the Emoluments Clause, abuse of power, obstruction of justice, lying, and the decay of the values for which upon the United States of America was founded.

Very Respectfully,


PS. I realize this is a weird way of coming back after a long absence. But you already knew I’m weird if you followed me. Maybe stick with me and see if I get my funny back or if Rob responds to me (yes, I really sent this to him). Promise I’ll publish any response! And maybe I’ll surprise you with some other stuff in the meantime.

PSS. He won’t respond.

DNA is Code for Do Not Admit (So quit giving yours away)

April 27, 2018

dnaYou only have to watch TV for about 3 minutes before you see a commercial for one of those companies offering to tell you your ancestral origins if you’ll submit a DNA swab and 99 bucks. In three short weeks, you can find out that you’re 1/4th Irish, 1/8th German, and 1/16th African American. Maybe that used to matter when Obama was president and you could qualify for some scholarships or something, but now it just means you’re on the no fly list and if you leave the country, you might not be able to come back even if you were born and raised here. But I’m sure that’s neither here nor there…right?

Anyhoo, politics aside, did it ever occur to anyone that this is a big scam? I mean how do they really determine you’re part Irish? Is there an Irish gene? Maybe there is; I don’t know. I didn’t bother to search it up on the Goggle, because I’m a slack ass. I think they just check your BAC, and if it’s above .0001, they’re like IRISH! And then you feel justified for your overzealous St. Patty’s Day celebrations. Everyone wins.

But seriously, isn’t anyone concerned about what they’re doing with your DNA after they run that little test? They already claim to be able to match you up with other possible people you may be related to, so hence, they’re keeping a database of all the paying DNA contributors. Maybe that’ll work out in your favor and your distant great uncle Jim who happens to be a millionaire has no other legal heirs to claim his assets upon his death. Or more than likely, Jim is dying a broke and lonely sucker and now you’re responsible tor his funeral bill and settling out his nonexistent estate.

Even more sinister, maybe they are cloning you. Perhaps there are little you’s running around in France that you’ll never know about. Until someone wants you to pay child support.  Or until those little heathens commit a heinous crime and you’re now a suspect because your DNA matches the DNA found at the scene. This ain’t the kinda stuff we should be messing with. Ever watch Pet Sematary? That didn’t end well. And Mr. Munster warned us all about it…

Which brings me to the pure fact that now you’ve voluntarily given up your DNA, it is now in some huge database that’s recorded your genetic fingerprint. Do you really want that kind of evidence out there before you’ve even done anything wrong? Because God forbid you do become a suspect in some horrible crime, you may not have the choice to exert your 5th Amendment right to not incriminate yourself. If you’re willy nilly handing out your DNA to complete strangers, why can’t the State just borrow that information to use against you?

More evil than the government, maybe the insurance companies will use that information against you to deny coverage. Your great aunt Edna had breast cancer? NO INSURANCE FOR YOU! You may never get breast cancer, but it doesn’t matter. Edna had it and now you’re marked. You’ll pay higher premiums than people who might actually get breast cancer, if any company will actually insure you at all.

I’m sure it’s nothing; I’m probably just being paranoid. Y’all go ahead and freely submit evidence that normally would have to be garnered by court order to see if you can officially celebrate the Cinco de Mayo.

You might be celebrating it on the other side of The Wall, but así es la vida.

Resting Bitch Face Isn’t a Disease

June 7, 2017

rbfYou know how sometimes you can be out in public and some nice stranger points out to you that you may have something wrong with you? Maybe they think you should get that funky looking mole checked out because it looks like skin cancer. Or maybe your Adam’s apple is bulging a bit too much and they’re worried you might have thyroid cancer. Well, recently I’ve had more than a few people suggest that I may have a concerning physical condition that troubles them so much so that they feel the need to inform me.

No one actually said, hey I think you have this condition. But I can tell they are certain I do, because I encounter an inordinate number of people who, on a daily basis, request that I smile for them. Yes folks, it seems I have come down with a nasty case of the terrible affliction known as Resting Bitch Face. It affects roughly 97% of the female population, but it’s more common in women who are over 40 and don’t give a fuck about your feelings. I think it may also occur more in women who have to deal with other human beings on a daily basis, but I haven’t conducted any actual scientific research to confirm this anecdotal evidence.

It’s funny, because I’ve noticed this condition doesn’t really bother other females when they encounter it in a fellow female. A fellow like-minded female, upon seeing RBF, will give you that knowing look and a small nod of acceptance. Like “I’ve been there sister. Carry on with your bad self.” But boy, does it make the guys uncomfortable. The guys get all fidgety. They think they’ve done something wrong (good assumption, I might add). They want to fix it. They may offer you a donut. And then they’ll say those dreaded words… Just Smile.

Just a heads up, guys, this is NOT the appropriate response to what you perceive as RBF. Do you have any idea what’s going on in my life? Maybe I don’t have RBF. Maybe I have a chronic illness that causes me constant pain. Maybe my loved one is dying. Maybe I’m working along side a bunch of men who make more money than me for the same amount of work. Do you make it a habit to tell your guy friends to smile when they’re experiencing something shitty? Do you tell your friend Steve, whose dog just got run over by a bus, to just smile? Do you say it to Mark who just lost his job? The point is simple. Don’t assume what’s going on in my life is so trivial and that all I need to do is smile so YOU feel less uncomfortable.

I am not a robot here to serve your needs. I’m not a doll on a shelf. I’m a real human being who experiences a wide array of emotions on a daily basis, and not all of those emotions are of the smiley variety. When you tell a woman to “just smile”, you are discounting every thing that is going on in her life that makes her not want to smile.

If you want me to smile, then do something to make me smile. Open the door for me. Wait until I exit the elevator before you rush on. Let me go ahead of you in line. Offer to carry my heavy bags. No, wait. Don’t do that. I’d probably mace a guy for that.

Treat me with compassion, like any other human being you encounter. Treat me like your buddy, Steve, who just lost his dog. That might make me smile. But if it doesn’t make me smile, then go about your day. Walk away slowly and quietly. Because the next guy that tells me to “just smile” is going to lose a limb.

You don’t want to be that guy.

Depression: The Imaginary Disease

June 5, 2017

chris-cornell-dead.jpgThe morning I woke up and heard Chris Cornell was gone, I felt an instant wave of shock followed by a deep sadness. I didn’t know him, in the proper sense, but I felt like I knew him. All those times he sung to me, with that sultry, sexy voice, with lyrics that spoke to my soul, it also felt like he knew me.

In the days since, I’ve seen a bevy of “open letters” aimed at those living with depression. My first thought is how presumptuous these letters seem. You cannot know what is in another’s mind or heart – even when you know them intimately. Think of all the times you’ve had a dark thought that you never shared with another soul for fear of the repercussions of doing so.

Among all these “letters”, there’s still something we’re not talking about. Let’s talk about it now. When you tell someone with depression to stick around one more day because there’s wonderful things in life, like ice cream, sunsets, days with family and friends; or when you say suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem (it’s selfish!); or when you urge someone to just get a script to feel better so they can be here a little longer for you… to someone enduring, deep, all-encompassing pain, you seem like a self-righteous ass who doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what depression feels like.

Depressed people like ice cream, sunsets, and days with family and friends. Those things are fabulous. And I guarantee they’ve experienced those things. But the pain they feel is deeper than that. So deep, in fact, they’d give up another scoop of cookies ‘n cream, the most gorgeous sunset over a calm ocean, or even one more day with those they love the most, just to be free of that overwhelming pain that embodies every breath they take.

And the majority of depressed people have tried all the meds available. Some of those meds remove all emotions. They make you feel like a walking zombie, but with that nagging notion that you should be feeling something about the things going on around you, but you can’t. To an artist who relies on emotion to create, that equates to sitting on death row awaiting your turn in the chair.

If you read the fine print on those miracle drugs, most list suicidal ideations as a side effect. We don’t accept diabetes medications that increase blood sugar. We don’t accept high blood pressure medications that increase blood pressure. We don’t accept chemotherapy that causes cancer. So tell me, why in the fuck, does the FDA give approval to a depression drug that has suicidal tendencies as a side effect? Perhaps even with all the medical innovations we have, still in 2017, we don’t see mental illness as a true medical condition.

If I had incurable cancer, would you still beg me to stick around one more day amidst unbearable suffering so you could have one more day with me? If I were in a diabetic coma would you tell me to wake up? If I had a brain aneurysm and was completely paralyzed and being kept alive through an oxygen tube and feeding tube would you tell me to hang on for a beautiful sunset?

No? Then quit saying that to the people you love who have depression. Just because it occurs in the brain doesn’t mean it’s something they can snap out of. The brain is the most complicated of all the human organs. If you have a heart defect, there’s a surgery for that. Your kidney quits working? They can replace that with a donor kidney.  Basically, you can ruin every organ in your body and they’ve got some kind of remedy for that. But they can’t replace a defective brain.

Your depressed loved one is still here because they AREN’T selfish. Don’t demean them by inferring anything else. Listen, I’m not going to even pretend to know the answer to this problem. You shouldn’t either.

Love your people while you have them. Cherish every moment you have with them. Accept when they have to leave. And honor them when they are gone.



Breaking Up (With the Make-Up) is Hard to Do

May 16, 2017

makeupThis past weekend I noticed my bedroom was in complete disaster mode and I decided I needed to do something about it. It was starting to look like a Hoarders episode up in here. I decided to clean up all the wayward boxes and shopping bags lying around. I spent hours combing through said boxes and bags. And I was left with one conclusion.  I need an intervention.

It all started harmlessly with a subscription to Birchbox. It was the gateway beauty box, if you will. Every month I’d get this cute little box of samples of beauty products. Then someone introduced me to the hard stuff – Sephora. First, there were all these beauty products that I NEEDED, which I then bought, which were shipped in boxes with more samples. I was hooked on Sephora. So I then joined their monthly beauty box, Sephora Play.  And then there was my Lancôme perfume addiction, which I engaged in every time there was a FREE GIFT with purchase. There came a point when I was on a first name basis with my dealer, Steve, the UPS guy.

Soon after that, an Ulta opened up in my town, and I was confronted with all these fabulous hair and makeup items right at my fingertips.  One December evening, Kayla enticed me with 20% off my entire purchase if I just signed up for the Ulta MasterCard. It sounded like a great idea since I was getting ready to purchase an ungodly amount of hair and beauty products. Now I’m using my Ulta MasterCard to buy stuff at Sephora so I could get points at both places. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. I have a problem, people.

So here I am now with enough makeup samples, makeup bags, and tote bags to supply a medium-sized country for about 5 years. The other day, a coworker told me she had been using the same eyeliner for 7 (SEVEN!) years. I was so worried about her eye health that I brought her a brand new, never used Lancôme eyeliner, because I had a couple on hand.

I am so disgusted with myself. I used to buy books and when my home became a mecca to wayward books, I banned myself from buying them.  Apparently, I started buying makeup instead. And handbags, but let’s not even talk about that right now.

I am officially at the point where my photo should be posted at the entrance of every Sephora, Ulta, Sally’s, Bath and Body Works, and Macy’s. I should not be allowed entrance into any of these stores. I have enough stock to open Helle’s Beauty Barn and give you a free book with every purchase (literacy is important!).

I have officially put myself on double secret probation from buying beauty products, purses, and books. Which basically means I can’t even go shopping anymore. What else is left in life?! I’m also still trying to lose the broken leg weight, so I can’t even have bread or candy. Fucking calories. I might as well be dead. But if I do die, please let the funeral home people know I have lots of high-end makeup that will make me look spectacular for the afterworld. I just bought some HD foundation and blur powder, which should make me look as good in death as I did in my senior pics, right?

Screw that, close the damn casket. My friends, all 5 of you, should have a party in my makeup room. Grab yourself a makeup bag and fill it with moisturizers, eyeliners, lip glosses, and all the other various samples I own. Have some chocolate martinis and talk about my impeccable taste in makeup and handbags.

And for Pete’s sake, take a book from one of my many bookcases, and read it.

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