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The betrayal of VAGEENA and Ol’ Faithful, and how to use secret knowledge to prepare for war.

My public confessions of the secret ugly truth of womanhood......
Several years ago after having three children, my OBGYN gave me no option but to have a hysterectomy. Several weeks ago, when I had to pee one day, I experienced the strange sensation of wiping my own bladder with toilet paper. I had no idea what the hell was really going on, but I knew enough to know I was wiping something I wasn’t suppose to. So I sat naked on the bathroom floor with a 5X magnified makeup mirror, and screamed out loud when I saw my bladder....and then, after having my bladder tacked to my esophagus with mesh and a sling this past Tuesday....I was was mind slaughtered, with a profound mental list of all the “never did I ever think I would experience or do this.....”. The more I laid in bed to recover, the more I pondered this list. The longer the list grew, the funnier it became. I’m going to absolutely destroy myself for one reason only...We women need to stick together at earlier time frames in our lives together. These little young things running around just like we did, and damn it was fun, need to know the sobering truth about aging as a woman. I am at the age where I value my girlfriends more than....well, we shan’t go there shan’t we? Point is...we need to warn them.
I was SUPER excited about getting a dose of Versed for my surgery on Tuesday. I legit wasn’t even remotely embarrassed when I clapped as the anesthesiologist introduced himself and stated what he was going to give me. It’s the best sleep you’ll ever have. And thank God they gave it to me. Bc I had no idea the knitty gritty details of this procedure until after I woke up and realized that I had been hoisted up with my ass in the air, head down, and my legs pulled apart in stirrups, in a 180 position. In laymen’s terms, that’s called a split. A SPLIT. Not even a side split. Full one. I now know what the hardcore SM porn stars feel like after a hard days work. They should get paid more.
Anyway.....back to the growing list of “never did I ever think I would ever do this before I married and had children”.....
Never ever did I think I would ever....Clean urine and pubes off toilet seats every single day of my life, and google better ways to scrub urine out of the grout around the toilet. It’s a huge open gaping beckoning hole right there in front of you. Why can’t they hit it? I even walked outside one day, in a fit of fury, in the privacy of my own back yard, and LITERALLY AND PHYSICALLY, “hooked it”, solely in a frustrated effort to privately prove to myself that I could pee standing up and hit a target right in front of me. I did. I hit it. Nailed it. Flawlessly. On the first try. Didn’t need no red or purple Skittles (cause the orange, yellow and green ones don’t work), no Cheerios, no Playboy magazines or an open window of Pornhub on the cell phone...not even a pat on ye ‘ol back. Somebody out there please make me a merit badge with gold rick rack on it.
Never did I ever think I would get to a point in my life where I had to accept the line I CLEARLY did not cross into a weird disgusting comfort zone where farts and sharts (yeah I said it, sharts) are no longer embarrassing for anyone else living in my home. There are no more excuse me’s. No more closing the doors when it’s quite obvious that our neighbors can hear it happening, no more efforts to fold a dirty pair of underwear to strategically try and hide a skid mark- nope, those truth telling brown lines stare proudly at the ceiling until I pick them up and clean them.
Never ever did I think I would get to the point where I would use SUPER EXTRA STRENGTH HULK tampons for the whole be fair, it doesn’t happen to all women, but in my periods became increasingly heavier to point that I questioned if I had passed a mouse in the toilet one morning. And then suddenly, as if a switch turned off, I was back in the game. No lead up, no trail off. Just BOOM YOU MIGHT HEMORRHAGE THIS TIME SO KEEP DILIGENT WATCH. It’s extremely disconcerting when you go from being able to use those tiny purple ones in the 3 size box, to owning and perfecting the ability to upkeep your smile and outward confidence as you experience the feeling of the largest tampon ever created in the the history of mankind seemlessly and effortlessly shoot out of you.
Oh- and never did I ever know that one day I would be aware that my labia would grow largelonger and change colors in unison with each passing year either. But guess what girls? Y’all out there taking crotch selfies....go with ya bad self- I’m not judging!! Hell, take them now, because when you get old, it all turns darker, flaps and claps, winds and knots itself uncomfortably around your g string (you’ll Ditch those too)....I do still layout naked at my pool bc my back yard is in the woods....but....all I’m saying is....if a strong gale of wind were to come through at the right time.....I could have a chance at flying. And no one ever told me that. Why not? Why in the hell not?
And while we are on the topic of naked selfies...go ahead and get some of your butthole and boobs too. Don’t use filters. I’ll be dead and gone, but one day you can visit my grave and leave a rock or a penny.....bc one day you’ll want to thank me. Why?
Never did I ever know ANYTHING. About post-pregnancy. I have given birth once naturally, and twice by c-section. During the last two births, I was on a very high risk list. For both pregnancies I was given a cerclage. A WHAT you ask? Oh dear sweet budding princess with the mid drift tank and high waisted jeans (that btw I BOSSED back in the 80’s....for real....SLASH, was on my wall...and he was my “go to guy...that makes me super tough and cool enough to write this, regardless if you have to google who he is), a cerclage is where they stick a huge needle, while you’re pregnant, directly into your spine to numb your body, but you’re awake the entire watch and hear yourself get hoisted by the feet in the air like a hog, tied u in stirrups, and the use of a speculum to completely open up your longtime bestie VAGEENA, and then a surgeon uses a 5,600 inch needle and surgical thread to sew your cervix you won’t go into labor. be fair.....this is rare so it probably will never happen to you. But other things will....
Like hearing yourself NASTY FART (the kind that in any other situation besides birth would make you want to take up another identity and immediately move to another state)in your doctors face, literally being able to watch his/her hair blow back from their face, and being able to smell it, but unable to stop it, curb it, or even say I’m sorry bc you’re in the middle of pushing out, or getting cut open like a deer being field dressed on a hill, a baby who is waaaaaaay bigger than that big silicone human fist you and your girlfriends laughed about in that dildo store that day.
Never in my entire life, did I ever hear about, learn, understand, or ponder the word HEMORRHOIDS. No one ever told me. Not one woman sat me down and tried to prepare me for them... for the intense life altering pain and suffering.....for what they look’s a for real nightmare worse than any horror movie. In fact, I may even be so bold as to say that I’d be willing to bet ALL the women who don’t get scared AT ALL during scary horror movies, are dealing with hemorrhoids. I’m also, because I’m feeling particularly saucy tonight, gonna throw another big girl word at you that flies out of freaking NOWHERE. Sound it out with me E-P-I-S-I-O-T-O-M-Y......great job!....that’s when the doctor takes a scalpel during labor, and cuts you, from vagina to butthole (sometimes....sometimes it’s just a small cut) if they think the baby is going to RIP your taint open in a jagged fashion. Either way, the healed results can sometimes, dare I say, vary? Back to the hemorrhoids. Never did I ever think, in my wildest dreams, after I gave birth to my beautiful baby, that my trusty butthole, Ol’ Faithful, would look like that hippie overpriced organic purple cauliflower that no one ever buys in the supermarket. And you know what? My solid faith in you as a young inexperienced precious young lady assures me that you’ve finally gotten to the point in this post where your are rolling your eyes and laughing and saying, this old lady is crazy and spinning a damn tale......dear sweet youthful female fox...I implore you to keep reading bc I’m not finished and I’m not exaggerating. There’s more. And the reason I’m telling you is bc YOU shop where the purple cauliflower pops up, but you’ve never bought it....bc eewwwww gross. You buy into all of what is cool, just like I did....
Moving along.
Never did I ever think I would one day be literally unable to bend forward enough to see my own butthole or vagina. Never ever did I think I would ever reach down with an anxiety filled heart into the hell pits of my own soul to summon the ability and sheer will JUST to be able to ignore the pain long enough to carefully and blindly probe my own butthole like I was Stevie Wonder reading Braille. And then, to make matters worse, the anesthesia from surgery, coupled with pain meds always create an incredible and noteworthy parting gift that settles in your lower colon, and it’s the size and density of a softball. And you cannot pass it. Depending on your age and movie knowledge, you may hear out of nowhere Gandalf whispering YOU SHALL NOT PASS. And, trust me, it won’t....until you drink the SECRET FORMULA that ALSO no one tells you about until you have to drink it. And then.......when it works, you have to invite a buddy to attend your coming out party. Choose your partner wisely my prideful sister. Because then.....
Never did I ever think I would ever lean on my best girlfriends, through blinding tears, to take pics of my butthole with their cell phones so i could actually see the state of things. And if this happens to you......when that flash lights up, and you must come to terms with the situation, and face the monstrosity of your new gatekeeper, your pride overrides everything and you finally break down and call the doctor who not only birthed your baby, but also whom you farted and pooped on during the whole process. That will pop into your mind several times throughout your life....for absolutely no reason. Anyway...huge point here....surround yourself with either good trustworthy women who will take ALL your skeletons to the grave. Women who have proven themselves time after time over decades that they are your ride or die. Women who get more angry than you do when someone angers you. BUT....and I say this with the utmost carefulness and quiet respect for the secret behind the scene strategies of all the female servants throughout history who have served the queens of successful countries....or, especially if really believe you ARE the queen.....if you don’t have that trusted girlfriend circle luxury, and you’re in a pinch, make sure it’s someone you know something really bad about. I know...I know...that’s so damn tacky. And horrid...I personally would never do that....but, every situation different, and sometimes desperate times call for desperate, because someone will have pics of your VAGEENA, whom you haven’t thought of at all until you finally see her dilapidated state in the pic, it’s smart to be wise and cautious. Vageena will be completely unrecognizable. Forgotten. Extremely hairy that defies any resemblance of growth patterns. Probably with gross evidence of cotton fuzz stuck in it from the elephant sized made in China maxi pads they give you in the hospital that will not stick to those androgynous marriage killing mesh underwear, or just plain old toilet paper dingle berries. VAGEENA will not resemble any crotch shot you’ve ever taken. There will be NO filter that can help you, unless it’s a vintage 70s throwback to Marilyn Chambers. She’ll just be sitting there, unapologetically open, covered in hair you never knew you had in you to grow, looking back at you in the mirror like a long forgotten disgusted fair weather friend who is now just a memory you really can’t afford to waste time on at the moment....BECAUSE.....
Never did I ever hear a damn thing about any of this.....but especially and specifically, I’d like to move on to something more important and’s about Lidocaine Anal Rockets.
I shit you not. LIDOCAINE ANAL ROCKET. In the WORD of Lizzo, this is not an “accessorary”. As fruitful as I am with my use of sarcasm, I did not make that name up. When the PA and attending nurse first used the term over the phone, I heard “anal rocket” and, after thoroughly and honestly analyzing it, I was probably just energized by hearing it....rocket just made me think, FINALÉ, like the light at the end of the tunnel...fireworks means freedom and I just, I guess, associated freedom with THIS is gonna fix my butthole and I will NO LONGER (I probably put up praise hands) feel like I am scooting like a dog with worms across a bed of hot ashes. Ok. I’ll give you a moment. But just so you know....that really was an understatement. It can be so much worse than that.
Never ever did I think I’d have to do this: I had to pick the anal rockets up at a specialty pharmacy 45 min away. They hand them over to you, packed for travel, frozen in a styrofoam cooler like you’re picking up some steamed shrimp packed for travel. And really, the only fun thing was, actually opening them and looking at them for the first time. I laughed. Out loud. By myself. BECAUSE. Never was I ever, throughout this entire ordeal, bequeathed with the knowledge, that these carefully crafted items of promised relief, were molded in the shape of butt plugs. They aren’t small either. These are seasoned porn star size. I’ve ALWAYS said NEVER to that door in my Narnia coat closet. I even had someone try to use Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb in an effort to persuade me. I quickly used a coy light reference of that meat grinder scene and nothing else had to be said. Also, I’m not judging you if you’ve partaken/to each his/her own.....but those memories quickly morphed from creepy to romantically reflective, when I found myself stuck in a painful situation where I was no longer afforded to right to decline or refuse to use it FOR ANYTHING. Pure lidocaine. Mixed, Poured and frozen In a butt plug mold the size of an orange street cone.....not really, but you know when you see a really big hill when you’re young and innocent, and then when you’re old and wise you see the same hill one day and you can step over it with ease? Yes.....I had to through this twice. And I’d like to add the most critically important statement right now.......I’d do it again and again. Let this post give you the strength and knowledge to be able to enjoy AND understand your womanhood and the joys of bringing life into this world. Our miraculous abilities and super human strength and resilience all come with great cost, that by all ethical and justifiable rights, should come with a full fledged in depth class that should end with at least a masters degree. Just my humble opinion.
Never have I ever, did I EVER think, I would go 8 weeks without feeling my entire ass. The whole ass. Messes you up. There were days were I would internally BEG and YEARN to feel PHANTOM ASS, like unfortunate victims who suffer from the loss/amputation of limbs and sometimes actually sometimes physically/psychologically feel what they have had removed. (I’m using this example in a very compassionate way, this is the ONLY way to describe this). Then I would feel guilty and count my blessings, basically and only bc I still at that time still really had an ass. (I eventually lost my ass, and unwillingly joined the global club of white women who have long ass but don’t know it, because no one has ever told them, and they insist on wearing a thong bathing suit on the beach....or the ones who do actually know it and sit their asses down in a crab chair only to get the WORST tan lines and be honest I’m friends with both parties, love them both.. but a white woman long ass is what it is. ANYHOO, while using the rockets, as I begin to accept my new body and life (it’s the gross bloated cocoon stage of what will become a dragonfly) I had to repeatedly check the clock, on a strict poop schedule, to see if it was time for me to sit and stare at my bathtub from my toilet until something happened. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn’t. But I’ll tell you one damn thing. I flat REFUSED to wash my panties when something sinister took place. Not one woman in my life ever told me these things might happen. Nevertheless, make it be publicly known, Never did I ever join the skid mark club. Nope. When that ship sailed, it was immediate pantie retirement, sealed in a plastic bag, double bagged, and buried deep outside in the trash can. I will though, out of the goodness in my heart, and the achingly desperate desire to arm young women with the power of knowledge, will NOW gift you a priceless super secret golden nugget of truth that not one single person in your entire life will ever give’s like the Holy Grail of self preservation, the celestial key to keeping and protecting your sanity (commit this to memory.....are you ready to receive?): Hemorrhoids have two sides. 2. Not one. I’m sparing you from truly believing you are pooping in your pants without feeling it. I’m saving you from the woeful shame of finding that in your panties knowing damn well you wiped the hell out of yourself. Ladies, if you still aren’t catching what I’m throwing, then I’ll sum it up. Wiping from front to back ain’t gonna cut it anymore. You gotta go the other way too....because Satan is behind thee, AND in front of thee. IF my husband knew what I spent on panties before I finally found the dark side of the moon....wait....what am I doing??? I’m old and wise now!!! I should have bossed up with my worth! I should have told him the truth and taken advantage of the opportunity to make him feel like he was “part of the solution”, so I could wear more expensive panties. See? He would have bought me expensive ones that were actually comfortable and made me feel prettier and sexier than I did.......instead of the Dollar Gentral 10 Pair In A Bag Come All The Way Up To The Arpits Barney Fife Lita Ford High Thigh Cut Make You Look Like You Have 3 Vaginas And Patterned/Fit For A Solid Zero Understandable Length Of Ass Crack panties I was throwing away. Are you beginning to catch what I’m throwing? Newly engaged married women need to know the power they possess!! It’s critical and crucial. Hear me. You may not stumble along my exact path......but you will stumble on something with no guidance.
Never did I ever even contemplate preparation for this one.....bc never did I ever even know what buttholes became after hemorrhoids, what they looked like “after the storm has settled” and everything slowly retreats with the ebb and flow of your hormones and sphincter, and time. Truth is, they all look and turn out different. Some are just gone, while some are not. The really MESSED UP THING NOBODY tells you, is that most women who get to experience the anticipation and relief/joy of the TOTAL disappearance of hemorrhoids over time, and then they get to shamelessly rejoice in the celebratory ritual of using their magnified mirror and husbands barbershop clippers to finally RE-MEET AND GREET Vageena....they are never prepared for the future. Part 2. The sequel. None of us really are prepared, except those of us whose hemorrodic friends never leave. But for the ones who enjoyed a renewed confidence ....I want to take my pointer finger right here and now and use it to dramatically press very hard on one of the off note black keys on a piano, and slowly move my head to make intense smoldering eye contact with you. Hear me now. Loud and clear. They’re not gone. It might be the morning after a wine and CHEESE party, it maybe the morning after a long road trip where you sat in the passenger seat for 8 hours, it might be the morning after you had passionate sex with someone who just a few hours ago saw EEEEERTHANG and is now wanting to see it up close again in the daylight...but you will be awakened with that familiar pain, and go silent for a minute to get your bearings. Your face will look like a Tarsier. Go ahead, google the image of a Tarsier. You will yet again try to channel the abilities of someone who is blind, and try to read your butthole like Braille....but you will fail, bc the fear and trauma will numb you at this point. You will psychologically feel that lidocaine butt plug...You will now have PTSD, and it will go one or two ways. You will either frantically look at it in the 5X magnified mirror and be attacked by the deceiving enlarged reflection showing you have a Polska sausage hanging down from your entire ass, or you will calmly use the other side of the mirror and become immediately aware that if you HAD TO PHONE A FRIEND, all you could say is that your butthole has grown its own clitoris, complete with what looks like maybe a pulled back hood. It’s a skin tag hemorrhoid that has hidden inside the picked skin folds....until now. And it hurts like hell. And’re going to start googling. No you don’t have ass cancer. No, genital warts don’t pop up overnight. No, Preparation H or essentials oils or Witch Hazel will not make that thing go away quickly. So you’ll google some more and quickly stumble on home remedy removals. You will then nervously stare at the dental floss in your bathroom. You will also look at the needle and thread in your craft section, and try to decide between wax or cotton......and then? After reading the horrors of having them surgically will break down in a fit of embarrassing but angered frame of mind, and speed dial/call that girlfriend who still has those pics of your cauliflower on her iCloud...but this time, you have no shame and neither does she. And then any resemblance or pride and privacy in your most personal being will evaporate when you fall through that tunnel like Super Mario into the underground world in order to save your princess.
Never did I ever think about having a stomach virus after giving birth, for the first 3 days upon arrival at home. All I’m gonna say about this is.....whether you find yourself ill or not....DO NOT TRUST THAT PAD when you fart. Don’t believe me? Fine. You’ll see for yourself, but I’ve given you fair warning. You know that old saying “when the shit hits the.....”.....I’m taking the liberty to use it in a different way. Because it’s the only way to describe it with dignity and a slight sense of humor what will happen, and what you alone will have to clean up while your baby is hungry and crying at 3am.
Never did I ever think I would ever be able to smuggle a midget, or a brick of black tar heroin across the border....simply by using my c-section scar. It may not be politically correct to say this, but I’m pretty confident by now you probably understand I don’t give a crap. I really do call it my midget smuggler. No matter how much weight I lose, I’m traumatized by the fact that the only way I can lose this flap of skin that looks like an overbite above VAGEENA, is either join the ranks of woman who try to jump over cars and stacks of pallets in order to land in front of a dump truck tire so they can pick it up an run and yell like a Viking......or sign up for a tummy tuck. Nothing wrong with either one. Just not for me. That comes with a price though...NO MO cheap ass bathing suits from Walmart or Target.....oh no baby, you in the big league now. What? What was that you just said in your head? That you’ll always be skinny and that will never happen to you? Girl I said the same thing, for years!!! In my worse moments, when I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself, I admit I’ve drank a bottle of wine and worn my black spanx to bed, just so I can reap the fleeting but powerful benefits of lying to myself as I lay on my side and run my hand across my flat helps with the confident dreams. And I awake as thankful and peaceful and renewed as I imagine I would be if I woke up to a clean house.
Never did I ever think I would ever be able to say, that after 5,673 years of unbelievably wonderful memories of breast feeding, that I could probably make a crane with my titty from the instructions in an Origami book my son received for Christmas this year. Or the bound paper airplane tutorial on his floor in his bedroom, where all things exist. And, LOL, I’m feeling a tingle of naughtiness slip up here all the sudden so I’m going to ride it like a magic carpet......big happens to women who don’t breast feed too!! Why did I stoop low just then? To be quite frank, I’m bitter about losing my boobs. I mean, I lost my ass too....but the boobs hit me hard. I’m tired of seeing those TABOO episodes and the weird crap on the internet where people are willingly dangling, suspended and hanging from hooks through their nipples, because it automatically spurs some weird terrible competitive mood in me.....I’m all like, ooooh okay....lemme put down this glass of wine bc I cannot outdo you in a heartbe........and then at some point I remind myself that I need to sit my ass down. And I do. But......I never ever thought in a million years that after a lifetime of youthful stand up D cups, I would be flipping through the B CUP section while my kindergartener who has recently learned how to read screams across the store, “Mommaaaaaaaaa! Do you like THONG? (Not plural. It just read thong).
I promise. I’m winding down. Life is fun. It’s Sad. It’s exciting it’s crazy. But that doesn’t mean we have to be unprepared for it. Now....I know, I’ve said a lot of things right now. I’m saving the worst for last. I ain’t even gonna lie. This is the pits that NO ONE prepares you for.
Never ever did I ever think, in my whole entire lifetime, that I would one day, in my 40s, be able to grow a full BLACK GOATEE AND ADJOING MUSTACHE. I have light brown very thin hair. Ok. Yeah. I’ve had a cpl I had to pluck over the years....Martha, Gertrude, Blanche........but they were lazy and inconsistent with their growth rate/patterns, and I could usually feel them before I could see them. Something bad happens to some women sometimes. It happened to me. It may not happen to you. I am the bearded lady you would pay to see. I’m the definition of the completely UNAWARE AUNTIE nobody cares enough about to demand she pluck that crap before she visits and tries to kiss all the children who are consciously making the private decision between kissing her and hiding in the neighbors dog house where they KNOW FOR SURE the dog will maul them. Anything to escape those whiskers. I am the Amish woman you confidently haggled with over the price of a bucket of couldn’t understand a word she said, but your ass paid her what she asked for as soon as you watched her slowly and methodically stroke/pull her beard from the roots to the end like every actor who has EVER played the character of Abraham Lincoln. And. You promptly turned your ass around and climbed back on that tour buggy when she didn’t hand you any change. I am the woman who went to an Asian owned nail salon to get a chin wax, only to be told by the owner after three completely unsuccessful wax strips, and she spoke in a VERY STRONG Vietnamese accent, “Aaaaahhhhh! Yo chin hair roooot took strong! I pluck!” I remember batting her away as she came in strong with those tweezers. I am the woman who got juuuuuust** a little too comfortable with shaving with a 5 blade razor in the steamy much that one day I shattered something deep within my husband when he opened the shower door to ask me where truck keys were. I was completely immersed in my upstroke ZEN, shaving against the growth bc I had important stuff to do that day and I could not have stubble. I could only open my right eye bc of the soap and lather all over my face.... but I saw enough. It was too much for him. He’s been through A LOT with me....bad periods, surgery, peeing myself, anxiety/panic attacks, stomach virus.......but this broke something in him. The only thing he could manage to say right before he slowly closed the door was, “How long have you been doing this?” His tone and demeanor would have been the same if he had walked in and caught me cheating on him red handed. Wouldn’t have been any difference. Then. for some unknown sadistic must be rooted in a sulphuric rock in the worst part of got worse. I was asked to “grow it out some” before I went in to the doctors for a complete hormone panel. Now mind you, I shave twice a day in order to keep it in the closet. I locked myself inside my home and grew it out for two solid days. When I tell you that I didn’t even NEED a damn SnapChat filter to make me look like was in FULL TRANSITION to be a male, I need you to believe me- not bc I’m telling this is absolutely going to happen to you-but bc I need the pity. I sat in my truck, turned it on as I sighed at my reflection, and began the 45 min journey to my doctors office. I was listening to Welcome to the Jungle by Guns and Roses and going 55 in a 50 zone. And out of nowhere, I saw blue lights behind me. Not even trying to be funny and kid right now......the very young patrolman stood up from his vehicle.....methodically HOISTED his pants up, way up, just like in a movie, more than they should be. Like honestly, I forgot I was legit being pulled over and allowed my imagination to run wild as he slowly approached my window with a very stern face. I asked him if I had a tail light out or something wrong with my vehicle and he replied with a know it all very assured voice, “Mam? Where are you going in such a hurry this morning?” I said, “uhmmmm, well, I’m going to a dr appointment but I checked my speed. 55 is not speeding!” He leaned closer to my window to get a really good look in (btw I love and support law enforcement but this was too theatrical to keep to myself) so I rolled the damn thing all the way down, stuck my chin out at him and said, “I’m going to get my hormones checked. I have more chin hair than you do!” I think the morning dew and sunlight made it glisten; saw the look on his face. It was the same as my husband’s had been when he caught me using his Barbasol and BIC 5 Fkexin’ it up in the steamy shower that day. It’s a comical but extremely potent mixture of horror....disgust...denial...loss of faith in humanity....stop drop roll run erase the board control alt delete empty history sing a Rick Astley song or Amazing Grace over and over again to make your brain forget the image. My facial hair is so bad, it got me out of a ticket. Never ever did anyone tell me HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE TO DEAL WITH ON THE DAILY, just like me. I need y’all to step UP TO THE DAMN plate. You very well may have had the honor of being trusted enough to take a butthole pic of your friend, a pic that is powerful enough to bring down a small country if used in evil ways. But that was a one time job!!! When your girl is pumping gas and you see the wind move one of her chin hairs, or you’re impatiently waiting/watching her try to blend that makeup on her neckline, and you witness a rogue secret agent pop up from underneath her chin and decide to lay down in the dont just urgently tell her, you make a scene by almost breaking her rearview or makeup mirror when you move it so she can see the hair! Then you pluck it out yourself. Make a scene. Drive it home. No man forgotten. None left behind. Do whatever you have to do make a big deal about it so she will be aware and proactive.....don’t let her go down like that. And then. for the rest of your natural born life, as long as you don’t have dementia- it is YOUR SACRED HONOR AND DUTY to make sure those hairs are taken care of.
So much more I can say, like, never did I ever think I’d have to draw my eyebrows on, or wear a baseball cap after giving birth bc the hair loss was so bad around my temples that I looked like I was suffering through chemo. Never was I ever told that I would grow really long hairs around my nipples that made me feel like a witch...I probably would have been torched in Salem.
Be a BULLSHIT...honest...diligent and empowering girlfriend. Tell the young, the middle, the old. Be compassionate in your advice and wisdom! Threaten to beat someone’s ass for hurting her, even when you both know you won’t! We are the bringers and nurturers of life. We must help each other more than we do. ~ Ryan Welch Anderson
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My mom huffed a huge sigh. There were tears in her eyes as she rifled through her purse trying to find a tissue to wipe them away. We were sitting in the University of Wisconsin Whitewater campus therapy office and had just been told I had failed out of school.
"What do we do now," she asked the school therapist.
"Well, Angela clearly can't stay here. She's failed out because of her depression but we've talked about how she never really wanted to go here in the first place. This is environment is just toxic for her," the therapist responded then looked at me, "Angela had an idea she wanted to ask you about."
"Umm," I was choking up at seeing me mom crying so my words were hesitant. This was the moment I'd feared since I'd received the notice that my grades weren't sufficient enough to continue at the college.
"Go on, it's fine," the therapist assured me.
"Well, uhh, I thought maybe I could go to Sequoia to do my gen-eds and then try again at a different university, like you did. I could live with Lisa." Sequoia is the community college in my mom's home town that she went to after she similarly failed out of college and Lisa, my sister, was living near there at the time.
"That...that could work," my mom said and then blew her nose before continuing, "we'd have to run it by Lisa but I'm sure it'd be okay. How are we going to tell your dad?" "We'll figure it out," I said. It was another dreaded question. My dad was going to be furious and depression wasn't going to cut it as an excuse. He didn't really believe in most mental illnesses and dismissed them as people "just looking for a diagnosis," for a problem they didn't have.
Arrangements were made pretty swiftly in the following weeks. I’d already applied to Sequoia before I spoke with my mom and got an acceptance letter pretty soon after. Lisa agreed to let me live with her as long as I did all the cooking and cleaning and if my mom helped her clean up the apartment to get it ready for me to move in. I received several angry phone calls and emails from my dad as well. My mom had told him for me to try and spare me from his temper but she’d clearly left out why I’d failed out and he kept making assumptions that it was because my boyfriend had just dumped me and some similarly bad conclusions. I tried my best to brush it off but family holidays were going to be awkward for a while.
My mom helped me move in and it was fairly exciting at first. Lisa and I had always gotten along really well and it was fun learning new recipes that she looked up. I even went off my depression medication as it started to become obvious that they were hindering more than helping. Lisa was very strict, though, which in some ways were good. She knew I had a hard time getting to sleep at night and waking up in the morning to get to class if I took naps during the day so she’d always wake me up if I fell asleep during the day even if I pleaded for her not to. In other ways, it was somewhat detrimental. When she said I had to do all the cooking and cleaning, she really did mean all of it. It started wearing on me pretty quickly and it didn’t help that pretty soon after I moved in with her that I crashed and totaled my car so my only escape was gone and I had to rely on her for transportation and take the bus for senior citizens to school.
It was getting pretty lonely, too. I hadn’t made any friends in classes because I was too shy. When I went outside to smoke, I didn’t really talk to the others out there but just played on my phone. All my friends were in places too far away to visit more than once in a few months even before I totaled my car. I told Lisa about it and how I hated to ride the senior bus to class so it’d be great to at least know someone who also went to Sequoia and wouldn’t mind taking me with them. She told me about OkCupid and said that, while it was a dating site, there was an option to also look for friends and that she’d made some through it. I’d never heard of it at that point and it didn’t really have the same reputation then as it does now. So, I signed up.
It went as expected at first: loads of creeps who hadn’t even read my profile and almost immediately ask me for sex or tit pics. I spoke with a few people who seemed interesting and ended up meeting with. The first one I met with took me to his place to hang out with him and his buddy. He didn’t have any front teeth which his picture hadn’t shown and they were talking about double-teaming his ex who was the reason he didn’t have any front teeth (she hit him with a toolbox). It was pretty uncomfortable and I definitely didn’t talk to him again after that. The next one waited until we met in person to tell me he thought he was a wizard and attempted to hypnotize me, unsuccessfully, and when he thought I was under asked to touch my left breast. I texted my sister to call me and make up an excuse to get out of there.
It wasn’t all bad, though. I met some genuinely interesting people though most of them lived rather far away, including one in England named Collin. That’s when I met Alec Parson. He lived pretty close and we had a high match with loads of similar interests. I messaged him and we hit it off pretty immediately. He didn’t have a picture on his profile so I asked him if he had Skype (just to verify he wasn’t some 50 year old guy trying to creep on 20 year old girls). He didn’t but offered to talk on the phone. When I called him, I kept calling him Alec until he told me he preferred people to call him by his last name which I thought was weird at first but soon got used to. We talked for hours about our favorite shows and video games. I asked if he had a Facebook after a bit to see if he had a picture on there. He didn’t have a picture on there either which I found weird but I guessed he was just a bit private. So I finally just asked to see a picture and he sent me one. It wasn’t the best picture. I couldn’t make out a lot of his features, just that he had glasses, long dark hair and was skinny.
We spoke every day for several hours after that and eventually planned to meet after a few days had passed. Lisa said we should go with her to see her boyfriend’s band in a town close by so that way she could be around to size him up and if things got weird, her boyfriend could diffuse the situation. It was at a Christian youth center which was weird since the band was definitely not Christian death metal. I told Parson about it and he agreed but also thought it was weird. I got all dolled up and was excited to finally meet him. When we got there, he was waiting outside and luckily looked like his picture but with shorter hair and wasn’t a middle-aged man. I was taller than him but that didn’t really matter to me since I’m pretty tall and this usually ends up being the case. We spent the next hour or so ripping on the teenage metalheads moshing and the youth center employees fretting about the music. I was so happy to find someone I got along with so well.
He asked me towards the end of the show if I wanted to go to a party. I checked in with Lisa and her boyfriend to see if they thought it was a good idea. They both said Parson seemed pretty harmless and that I could probably take him out if he tried anything. So, I went with Parson to his car and we were on our way. He introduced me to the song Wordless Chorus by My Morning Jacket on the way there which I instantly loved.
The party was in a run-down town near where I lived. It looked like it was nearly a ghost town with a lot of buildings that were boarded up and falling apart. The apartment his friends lived in didn’t look much better than any of the condemned ones. They didn’t seem too bad, though: there were about ten of them and were all really chill and nice despite being pretty typical townies. The woman whose apartment it was instantly offered me some cheap wine after all introductions were over and I happily obliged. I loosened up after the wine began to flow and wasn’t my usual awkward self. We talked and laughed and shared stories. One of his friends said she was glad Parson found a good one (referring to me) finally. I blushed especially since I told Parson I wasn’t really interested in anything serious right now and felt like I’d somehow misled her about our relationship. We started playing drinking games like, “never have I ever,” and, “circle of death,” after which I was really loosened up. That’s when we all started dancing. One of his friend’s moved the table out of the way and cranked some shitty hip hop which I love when I’m drunk. I was dancing with Parson and the apartment owner and generally having a good time. Some really raunchy song came on and I jokingly grinded on one of the other girls that was there and the apartment owner did the same to me. Parson suddenly hastened me to the door and announced we were leaving which I thought was strange but just went along with and said my goodbyes.
When we got out to his car his started yelling at me for dancing with that girl.
“Why did you do that,” he yelled.
“Do what,” I replied, completely baffled as to what I’d done wrong.
“Dance with that girl? My friends are never going to let me live that down.”
“Why? What’s wrong with dancing with a girl?”
“Nothing, just not that girl?”
I gave him a confused look. She’d seemed pretty cool the entire time we were there. He sighed and continued yelling.
“She has a reputation for being super slutty and having diseases. Now my friends are going to make fun of you and me because you grinded on her.”
“Then your friends are douchebags. It’s not like I fucked her. I was just having fun and getting drunk with your friends.”
“That’s another thing. You got too fucking drunk. You should know your limits. It’s not safe.”
“Look, I thought we were all having fun and everyone was drinking as much as me. Are you saying they’re not safe?”
“They’re not even my friends. I just hang out with them. They all do crack and are a bunch of crackheads.”
I glared at him and couldn’t believe what he just said.
“Are you telling me you took me to a crack den to hang out with a bunch of crackheads? What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“It’s not a crack den. And anyway, you’re the one in the wrong here. Don’t try to put the blame on me”
“You just told me everyone there was a crackhead. All I did was dance with a girl who sleeps around and might have diseases, something I couldn’t possibly have known about. Ugh, can you just take me home please,” I buckled my seatbelt and didn’t speak to him the rest of the ride. When I got out of the car, I told him to never contact me again and went inside. Looking back on it now, it was probably a bad idea to have him drop me off right outside my apartment.
Parson texted me and tried to call me everyday following that. I ignored all his attempts to contact me. I started talking more and more to Collin, the man from England. We started getting pretty close and talking on Skype a lot. He spoke about visiting which I somewhat dismissed given how far away he lived. It was a fun thought to talk about though. I frequently tweeted him when I was outside my college smoking since I couldn’t send texts to people in a different country. I gained some new followers on Twitter which I assumed were ones that also followed him and saw his replies. I noticed one of them, named @mikem1982, was retweeting some of my less interesting replies to him.
After a few days of quiet, I got a text from Parson when I was in class saying he wanted to apologize and had something for me. I rolled my eyes but figured I’d at least give him the chance to say what he needed to say. I texted him back telling him to meet me outside the school building where I knew there would be a lot of smokers just in case he went berserk again.
When he got there, he gave me a hazelnut Ritter Sport bar (if you’re unfamiliar, it’s a german candy bar but they have them at Walmart in the U.S.). I’d told him previously that I really loved the butter biscuit Ritter Sport and even though it was the wrong one, I appreciated that he’d remembered something insignificant I’d told him a while ago.
“I wanted to apologize for yelling at you. There’s no way you could’ve known about that girl,” Parson said.
“Exactly,” I said curtly. I know I should’ve been a been more open to the apology but I was still pissed.
“But you shouldn’t have gotten so drunk. It never would’ve happened if you weren’t so drunk. It’s not safe to get that drunk. You need to know your limits.”
“Ugh, not this again. Look, I’m only 20. I haven’t even turned 21 yet and didn’t even started drinking until recently. I haven’t even gotten drunk often enough to have learned my limits. Everyone was just as drunk as me and even if I’d only had a couple of drinks, I would’ve danced with her. It was just a joke and we were all having fun. If you were so concerned about my safety, you wouldn’t have taken me to a crack den to hang out with crackheads.” I’m not going to lie, my argument was probably a bit dumb but I was pissed that I was even placed in a scenario that could be described as a crack den crackhead party and that he kept implying dancing with another girl, even one rumored to have slept around, was bad.
“It wasn’t a crack den. Jesus,” he paused and looked away in embarrassment, “anyway, the only reason I was worried and overreacted is because…Well, it’s because I have developed strong feelings for you.”
I was completely taken aback and my mouth hung gaping wide in surprise at what I just heard. It took a few moments to compose myself after the massive red flag he just raised.
“What the fuck are you even talking about? Strong feelings? Jesus fucking Christ, we’ve only spoken for like four days and this is the second time we’ve talked in person. The first time, you yelled at me for about a half hour for dancing with someone because you thought your crackhead friends were going to make fun of you. How the fuck can you have strong feelings for me?”
“I don’t know. I just do. We both like the same things and like making fun of people.”
“That doesn’t warrant ‘strong feelings’. You barely fucking know me.”
“Can we just forget it, please? I apologized, can we just forget what I just said? I’d still like to talk to you and get to know you more.”
I sighed and lit a cigarette while I mulled it over.
“Look, I don’t really want to be in a relationship right now, especially not with someone who seems like they have a bad temper and I am constantly walking on eggshells around. If you want to be friends at some point, fine, but I don’t think I can talk to you or be around you for a while. Do you think you can handle that,” I lied. I didn’t really plan on seeing him in person again and maybe just politely replying to texts if he sent them. Maybe.
Parson looked perplexed like he had a million thoughts racing through his head.
“I don’t want this chocolate,” I added.
“Just take it,” he insisted.
“No, I don’t want it.”
“Neither do I,” he said and slipped it into my purse which was on the ground next to me and then hightailed it out of there before I could protest further.
Winter break came and went without me thinking about Parson. It wasn’t until I was roaming the halls of Sequoia that I was reminded when I heard his voice calling my name and I turned around to see him sitting at a table tucked into a dark corner.
“Angela, hey, how’s it going?”
“Uh, hi? What’re you doing here?”
“I enrolled in classes this semester.”
“Oh…cool,” I stammered off, all the while thinking shitshitshit because I didn’t expect to see him again and now he was right here in front of me.
“Yeah, my dad thought it might be a good idea. He’s hoping I’ll move out of the house after I graduate, I think.”
“Cool, cool. Hey, I have to get to class. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Before he could say anything else, I ran off to the bathroom and sat on the couch they had in there and tweeted Collin about what just happened. He replied how creepy it was and made me laugh. I sat there until I had to go to class. After class, I rushed out to the senior bus that luckily was already there so I didn’t have to wait like I usually did.
The next day, I saw Parson again. I had just got in the building when he immediately greeted me from the chairs in front of the entrance.
“Hey, Angela, how’s it going?”
I guessed I was going to just have to deal with seeing him every day and tried to make the most of it. At least I had someone to talk to which was nice despite the company. I still tweeted Collin in between classes but spent most of the time being snarky with Parson. He was always available when I was and was even available to give me a ride home from my late class since the senior bus wouldn’t come after six in the afternoon. We sort of just ended up falling back into the same place we were at the beginning like nothing had ever happened which I was thankful for. I did find it odd, though, that sometimes I noticed him passing by the doors of my classes or pacing around the halls clearly looking for me when I was outside smoking. I could see him through the windows when he was searching and tweeted Collin about it but called him OOB (which stood for overly obsessed boy) instead of by his real name.
@awkwardangela: @scarletbreeches1983 #OOB spotted
@scarletbreeches1983: @awkwardangela Oh Jesus, where are you now?
@awkwardangela: @scarletbreeches1983 outside smoking, I don’t think #OOB can see me
@scarletbreeches1983: @awkwardangela you should flash him or something while he can’t see you.
@awkwardangela: @scarletbreeches1983 Nah, don’t want to give the other smokers out here a show.
scarletbreeches1983: @awkwardangela fair enough, save it for when I come visit during spring break ;)
@awkwardangela: @scarletbreeches1983: haha, will do, can’t wait!
Parson eventually noticed me sitting on the stairs outside and came out to chat. Somehow we got on the topic of what we were going to do after we graduated.
“Well, I’m just here until I finish all my gen-eds so I’m not actually going to get my Associates degree. I think I’m going to go to University of Illinois or maybe Southern Illinois University. Those are where I actually wanted to go after high school but my parents sent me to Whitewater because I could actually get on the varsity softball team there which I couldn’t at the others.”
“Those are both really far away.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be great not to have to come home for every little holiday like I do now.”
“What about us?”
My eyes grew large at the question.
“What do you mean ‘us’?”
“Well, I thought you said you didn’t want a relationship right now but sometime in the future. I figured since we were getting along so well again that we were going to date at some point.”
“I thought I told you I just wanted to be friends.”
“Yeah but that’s because you didn’t want a relationship right now. That’s what you said.”
I frantically tried to recall my exact words. I was certain I had never implied that I wanted a relationship with him in the future. I started to get angry that all this time he was only acting like my friend because he thought I was going to be his girlfriend at some point.
“So, what? You think I’m going to give up on going to a college I really want to go to because for some reason you think I’m going to be your girlfriend? You think I’m going to give up on my future just to date you even though I said I just wanted to be friends?” I was standing at this point with my fists clenched. Parson looked so small in comparison which boosted my confidence in what I was saying.
“No, I meant…I meant maybe you could go somewhere closer and we could give this a shot. I still have strong feelings for you. I think I love you.”
My eyes started to fill with tears of frustration.
“You don’t love me Parson. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have pretended to be my friend all this time and try to make me go to a college I don’t want to go to just so I could be your girlfriend.”
“Maybe we could date until you’re done at Sequoia and then you can decide if you still want to move away.”
“Fuck no. Do you really think I’d want to date you after all this shit?”
“I bet you’d go to college near Collin just to date him,” Parson said with the utmost malice drenching every syllable. I shrunk at the mention of his name.
“Wh-what the fuck? How do you know about Collin?”
“You told me about him and that he was coming to visit.”
“No, I fucking didn’t. The only one that knows about Collin visiting is Lisa.”
“Yeah you did. Last week,” his voice seemed shaky.
“I did not. I only told her and unless you to chat without me knowing.”
“I-uhhh. I saw your tweet about it.”
“What?! You follow me on twitter?! I never told you I was on twitter! What’s your screen name?”
“What’s an OOB?”
“What’s. Your. Screen. Name,” I stressed every word in anger.
“What’s an OOB? Tell me what an OOB is and I’ll tell you my screen name.”
“No, fuck off. You’re the one who has been secretly following me on twitter. Tell me your screen name now!”
“Tell me what an OOB is!”
“For fuck’s sake, I don’t have time for this. Tell me your screen name or we’re done talking.”
“No,” Parson said coldly.
“Fine,” I said and walked off to catch my bus. I was glad he revealed how much he’d been creeping on me but pissed that I still didn’t know his screen name so I couldn’t make my twitter private and block him. I had a plan on how to get it and was going to put it into action as soon as I got home.
Parson forgot we’d taken a picture together on my laptop once when we were hanging out between classes. As soon as I got home, I promptly cropped myself out of it and uploaded the picture to twitter and wrote the corresponding tweet:
@awkwardangela: This creep, ALEC PARSON, follows me around everywhere I go when I’m at college and now I find out he’s secretly been following me on twitter
Collin replied almost immediately.
@scarletbreeches1983: @awkwardangela Wtf? Really? What’s his screen name?
@awkwardangela: @scarletbreeches1983 I don’t know. He refuses to tell me so I posted his picture.
@scarletbreeches1983: @awkwardangela I’m free to Skype about it if you want to.
I called him and, very shortly after, received a barrage of texts from Parson.
Parson: WTF?!
Angela: Tell me your screen name and I’ll take it down
Angela:I’m not taking it down until you tell me your screen name
Angela: Ok but it’s going straight back up if you don’t tell me
I took it down and then texted him it was done. It took him a while to reply but he finally told me he was @mikem1982. I told Collin about it and how freaky it was that he had tried to make it look like a different guy entirely. He wasn’t even born in 1982! It was clearly a name he invented purely to follow me secretly. I went through my followers and found the dummy screen name and blocked him and a bunch of other followers who I didn’t recognize just in case he was lying about the name. I blocked him on Facebook, too, and then changed the privacy settings on both to maximum levels where I wasn’t visible to anyone unless they were already my friend. I blocked him on my messenger and on OkCupid, just for added precaution. I figured that would be the end of it but I was wrong.
I managed to avoid him for the most part on campus. I used side entrances and stairwells that I didn’t usually go to because they were on opposite sides from where my classes were. I even chose a different spot to smoke even though it was against the rules to smoke outside of the designated spot. But, being a pretty small community college where all departments were housed within the same building, sometimes I’d end up seeing him and having to duck into a bathroom or classroom that wasn’t mine in order to avoid him. Sometimes I’d see him passing by my classroom doorway over and over again and staring in at me. I avoided looking at him whenever he did and tried to stay in the classroom for as long as possible after class was over just to make sure he wasn’t waiting outside.
I eventually ended up going to the Sequoia Security office and reported his behavior. When they tried to look him up in their system, they couldn’t find anyone named Alec Parson enrolled. I told them that couldn’t be possible because I saw him every day but they showed the results on their computer and, sure enough, he had never actually enrolled at Sequoia. Parson showed up everyday just to follow me around for nearly a year now. I gave them his picture from my computer and told them where he usually showed up. They told me there wasn’t much they could do except escort him off the premises if he showed up again since he wasn’t a student. I suggested they could put his picture on the TVs they had around school so others could report him if they saw him and since his picture being broadcast bugged him so much. They said they’d have to ask about it but would definitely put it up if it was okay. I sighed and thanked them. This was turning into a way bigger issue than I’d anticipated.
Security did end up putting his picture in the rotation on the broadcast with their number to call to report him. Parson must have seen this because I didn’t see him a couple of days after they started. It was such a relief to finally be rid of him. I could finally focus on my school work and my anticipation of spring break when I’d get to see Collin in person. I was ecstatic. That’s when weird things started happening.
Lisa came back from work one day and yelled for me to come downstairs. I yelled down that I’d be there in a minute, thinking she just wanted me to do the dishes I’d been neglecting. She yelled again that I needed to come down now. The urgency made me a little worried that something bad had happened and I ran down the stairs.
“What? What’s wrong,” I asked. She was standing in the kitchen with something in her hand.
“Did you leave this on the door?”
Lisa was holding a blue post-it note with a weird cryptic message on it reading: “Now that it’s out there, you can’t take it back.”
“No, what the fuck? What is that?”
“I don’t know. I found it on the back door when I came in.”
“I went out the front door when I went to class so I didn’t see it. Is it someone playing a prank on us?”
“Kind of a stupid prank but who knows. People around here are weird.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
I set about starting dinner but all the while, at the back of my brain, I was worried that it could be Parson. That night when I was in bed taking to Collin on Skype, I could hear things hitting my window repeatedly and making a tiny thunk every time. I told him I’d be right back and crawled out of bed. I cautiously looked out the window, opening the curtains just enough to see outside without anyone being able to see in. The streetlight was out so I couldn’t see much of anything. There were some marks on the window but I couldn’t really tell what they were. I tried to chalk it up to moths hitting my window and trying to get to the light inside since the one outside was out. I told Collin my theory but he didn’t seem convinced. He was right not to be.
The next day, Lisa burst into my room and shook me awake. She had another post-it in her hand that just had the word “gifts,” written on it.
“Angela, I found another note on the door along with a whole bunch of dead mice in the yard. What the fuck is this?”
“What?! I don’t know,” I said and went over to the window. The marks I’d seen the night before were blood. I ran downstairs and looked out the door. There were about ten dead mice on the yard. I started shaking out of fear. Lisa came up behind me.
“Angela, if this is one of your weirdo internet friends playing a prank I’m going to be so pissed.”
“I-I don’t think this is a prank. I think Parson did this.”
“Parson? That small guy you met at James’s show? Why would he do this?”
I hadn’t told Lisa I’d started talking to Parson again since what happened after the party or any of the crap that had been going on at school. I sat her down and told her everything. When I was done she was shaking her head at me.
“You shouldn’t have started talking to him again.”
“I know that now but I didn’t really have anyone else to talk to at school.”
“I’m going to call in to work. We’re going to the police station.”
We showed the police the post-its and told them about the dead mice. I told them I thought it was Parson and what had happened before the post-it notes started showing up. They said they’d have a patrol drive through our neighborhood and behind the apartments a few times during the rest of the day to see if he showed up again. I gave them his picture so they’d know who to look for. When we got home, I emailed my professors that I wouldn’t be coming to class today and made up some excuse as to why. I spent the rest of the day talking to Collin on Skype to try and take my mind of it.
There were no more post-it notes the rest of the week so I figured the patrol had scared him off. Collin was set to arrive on the weekend and all thoughts of Parson were replaced by making sure everything was ready for the visit. Lisa let me borrow her car for the duration of his visit since I’d cleaned the entire apartment and made it spotless and went grocery shopping to make sure she had food while he was here. Collin ended up staying at a hotel nearby and after the first night, Lisa agreed to let me stay over there until he left. We’d made a dollar bet that either of us would have to pay up if they ended up saying I love you to the other. I owed him a dollar after three days but he didn’t make me pay up and said it back. We went out to eat every night and I introduced him to all my favorite restaurants. One night when we were going out, I noticed one of the tires had a screwdriver sticking out of it. My mind immediately jumped to Parson and looked around frantically to make sure he wasn’t there. I think Collin knew right away what I was thinking and tried to assure me it could’ve been some teenager being an asshole for a laugh since we were in a bad part of town. I tried to accept this but couldn’t bring myself to stop looking out the window from the hotel room every five seconds. We notified the front desk and ordered pizza. The next day, I got the tire fixed without telling Lisa about it so she wouldn’t worry. The rest of Collin’s trip went by without any issue. He couldn’t bear to leave and really wanted to miss his flight and stay longer but I talked him out of it since he wasn’t going to be able to stay with Lisa and me and didn’t have enough money to get another flight. Collin promised to come back as soon as possible. I waved at him as his bus for the airport departed and then went to my car. I instantly broke out sobbing as soon as I got in and took a while to calm down enough to drive home.
When I got back, Lisa met me at the door.
“He left another post-it note. What does he mean by, ‘Tell Lisa about the tire.’”
I pushed past her and collapsed into a chair crying.
“Then it was him.”
“What was him? Angela, what the hell is going on?”
“A few nights ago, I found a screwdriver in your car’s tire. I fixed it and didn’t tell you so you wouldn’t worry or freak out while Collin was here.”
“You’re kidding me?”
I shook my head. Lisa immediately called the cops.
Since they had no proof that Parson was actually the one who’d slashed the tire, the cops could only offer another patrol of the neighborhood. Lisa was furious and wouldn’t talk to me after that. I was just going through the motions afterwards: I went to class, came home, cooked for Lisa, did homework while talking to Collin and then went to bed. Repeat. The next week started with a new post-it. It said, “The cops can’t see me. They can’t reach me. But I can see you.” This one sent Lisa over the edge and we had a massive fight where she blamed this all on me, like I’d asked for it. It ended with her kicking me out and my mom having to come pick me up.
My dad was similarly angry when my mom showed up with me holding a suitcase. It took some explaining of the situation to finally calm him down. We called Lisa and asked if she would be okay with me coming back but I could tell she was too scared to have me living there while all of this was still happening. She explained that it had started really affecting her work and I couldn’t fault her for not wanting to end up losing her job because of something she didn’t really have anything to do with. In the end, I agreed that it was probably better that I didn’t move back in with her and while she was relieved, I could tell she felt really bad.
My dad is a lawyer so was able to help me through the procedure of getting a temporary restraining order on Parson and my mom helped me find a small apartment I could afford near school. It was a couple of weeks before I could move in but I told the school what had happened and they excused my absences with my teachers. I had such a backlog of homework when I returned that I barely had enough time to talk to Collin between it and classes. All the while, I was constantly fearing a new post-it note or a glimpse of Parson at school or near my apartment.
The restraining order was due to expire in 90 days. During that time, everything went back to normal. I started working at a new job and was starting to reach the end of my time at Sequoia. Collin was going to come back and visit again near Christmas time and stay for a few months. We spoke every day about the trip. Parson was never brought up in conversation and eventually I stopped being afraid every time I left the apartment. I applied for U of I and somehow got accepted. It felt like the nightmare was over. God, I wish that were true.
I went to pick up Collin at the bus station. I was so thrilled that he was back and had taken off a the rest of the week at work so we could hang out every day. When we got back to my apartment, I showed him my acceptance letter and he hugged me and told me he couldn’t wait to go there with me. We quickly became accustomed to living together, so quickly that it’s like we’d done it for years. The week passed and I couldn’t take any more time off of work so I had to leave him alone at the apartment. I rushed back home everyday to see him. Most days, he ended up going to visit my grandma, who only lived a short walk away, and helping her with her garden. One day, I had an eight hour shift that ended at midnight and I told him I’d pick up something for dinner before I came home.
My shift was uneventful and I got some crappy fast food after work since there weren’t any other options after nine at night. When I got back, the door was unlocked. I figured Collin had gotten bored and went to my grandma’s at some point during the day and forgot to lock it when he came back. Wordless Chorus was playing on my laptop when I walked in.
“Hey, I hope Burger King is okay with you. That’s all that was open.”
No reply.
“Collin,” I called out as I took off my shoes by the door. He didn’t answer again. I walked down the hall to the living room of our tiny apartment, dropped the bag of food and screamed at the scene that greeted me.
The whole room was covered top to bottom in blue post-it notes that said, “OOB was here,” except for one wall that Collin sat slumped against and covered in his own blood. There was a trail of blood on the floor leading up to him. Above him was one solitary yellow post-it that appeared be circled in more of Collin’s blood. I rushed over to him, took him into my arms and began sobbing. Up close, I could see that both of his achilles tendons had been slashed. His stomach was riddled with stab wounds and covered in half-burned cigarette butts. There was an empty pack of my cigarettes sitting next to him. It was confusing until I noticed about a dozen cigarette burns all over his face. I looked up at the yellow post-it note through my tears and read it:
“You are mine. You always were mine. You always will be - OOB.”
Collin started mumbling something in my ear. I couldn’t believe he was still alive. I tried to focus in on what he was saying but I couldn’t make anything out. He worked up all strength and shouted.
I whipped around to see Parson emerging from my bathroom. He had a massive hunting knife in his hand and lurched towards me with it. The entire time he kept repeating, “I love you, Angela,” as he tried to stab me in the chest. I was able to stop him from getting me anywhere vital but soon my arms were covered in defensive wounds. I managed to dodge one aimed at my face but he sliced part of my earlobe off. Lisa and James weren’t wrong about me being able to take him. I got a good punch in when he was arcing the knife back to stab me again. It knocked him off of me and left him reeling for long enough that I was able to run in the hall. I screamed for help and knocked on all of my neighbor’s doors, covering them all in my blood as I went. One of them finally answered. I screamed for them to call 911 and that Parson was after me with a knife when I was pulled backward by my hair and thrown down the stairs. The fall knocked me out cold.
I woke up in the hospital covered in bandages and stitches. Mom, dad and Lisa were sitting in the chairs next to me. My mom jumped to her feet when she saw my eyes open.
“Where am I? What’s going on,” I asked.
“You’re in the hospital. You got attacked last night,” my mom replied.
Everything came flooding back to me in an instant and tears filled my eyes.
“Where’s Collin? Is Collin okay? What happened?”
“Collin is in the ICU for all of his stab wounds and burns. The doctor’s say that he lost a lot of blood but they’re confident he’ll pull through,” Lisa replied.
“Wh-what about Parson?”
“Your neighbors were able to restrain him until the cops arrive. One of them got cut pretty bad but otherwise they’re okay, too,” my dad said.
I had to stay in the hospital for a few more days. It took another couple of months for Collin to recover enough to leave and another few for him to walk again. He would still need to use a cane. During that time Parson’s trial started. It came out in court that Parson had priors for harassment under a different name which is why he was weird about his picture being on the internet. That coupled with Lisa’s, Collin’s, my neighbors’ and my testimony, along with hospital reports of all of our injuries, got him sent away for two counts of attempted murder with no possibility of parole. Thirty years behind bars. I hoped he died before getting out.
Collin and I moved to Champaign, Illinois and I started classes at U of I. We both deleted our twitter accounts and I deleted Wordless Chorus off of my laptop. After a few years we got married and when I graduated, we moved to California.
Regardless of moving around so many times, on every anniversary of the night Parson attacked Collin and me I get a call on every new number I change to:
“An inmate from Illinois State Penitentiary is attempting to contact you. To accept this c–“
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What's Going on in Columbia? October 18-23 (Homecoming Week)

THE ACCOUNTANT - Christian Wolff (Ben Affleck) is a math savant with more affinity for numbers than people. Behind the cover of a small-town CPA office, he works as a freelance accountant for some of the world’s most dangerous criminal organizations.
AMERICAN HONEY - A sensation at the Cannes Film Festival, where it took home the Jury Prize, American Honey is a dazzling and ambitious road film set in the Midwest. Star (20-year-old Sasha Lane, delivering a headturning debut performance) is dumpster diving when she notices a van carrying a young, motley crew. She follows them inside the local K-Mart and makes eye contact with Jake (Shia LaBeouf). The next day, Star hops in their van, and they head towards Kansas City, selling magazines door-to-door and partying along the way.
THE BEATLES: EIGHT DAYS A WEEK – THE TOURING YEARS - Directed by Ron Howard and produced with the full cooperation of Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Yoko Ono and Olivia Harrison, this entertaining and evocative documentary transports us to the 1960s, when The Beatles cemented their reputation as a brilliant live act. The film will focus on the time period from the early Beatles' journey in the days of The Cavern Club in Liverpool to their last concert at Candlestick Park in San Francisco in 1966. Their inner workings and astounding musical gifts are revealed through electric, never-before-seen archival materials, including footage exclusive to movie theaters.
THE BIRTH OF A NATION - Set in the antebellum South, Birth of a Nation boldly explores the life and death of Nat Turner, a slave who orchestrated an uprising in 1831. As a young boy, Nat startles his owners by displaying an aptitude for reading. They decide to teach him how to read the Bible. As an adult, Nat (Nate Parker) is a gifted preacher, regularly offering wisdom to his fellow slaves. Nat's owner Samuel (Armie Hammer) encounters hard times and decides to take advantage of Nat's gift. Written and directed by Parker, Birth of a Nation premiered at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award.
BOO! A MADEA HALLOWEEN - Madea (Tyler Perry) fends off killers, poltergeists, ghosts, ghouls and zombies on Halloween.
DEEPWATER HORIZON - Lone Survivor director Peter Berg helms this docudrama about the true story of the Deepwater Horizon disaster, a 2010 oil rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico which resulted in the largest offshore oil spill in U.S. history. The film depicts the challenges Mike Williams (Mark Wahlberg) and the rest of the rig's crew as they fought for survival.
DON’T BREATHE - Three friends plot to end their money woes by burglarizing the home of a blind recluse (Stephen Lang), but the heist quickly goes awry when they discover that their target is concealing a horrifying secret -- and that he isn't as harmless as they had thought.
THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN - A recent divorcee (Emily Blunt) fantasizes about a couple that she passes each day on her commuter train ride. Soon, she becomes entangled in a mystery involving the couple, as well as her former husband and his new family in this adaptation of the 2015 bestseller by Paula Hawkins.
JACK REACHER: NEVER GO BACK - This time around, Reacher works to exonerate Maj. Susan Turner after she is accused of treason, and his quest leads him to a conspiracy involving the murder of soldiers.
KEEPING UP WITH THE JONESES - An ordinary suburban couple (Zach Galifianakis and Isla Fisher) discovers that their hospitable new neighbors (Jon Hamm and Gal Gadot) are actually government spies, thrusting them into an international espionage imbroglio.
KEVIN HART: WHAT NOW? - Comedian Kevin Hart returns to his hometown of Philadelphia to perform in front of a record setting, sold-out Lincoln Financial Field in this stand-up documentary. Footage from his historic 2015 show is mixed with skits starring Halle Berry and Don Cheadle.
THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN - In this remake of the classic 1960 oater of the same name (itself a Western remake of Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece, The Seven Samurai), seven gunslingers join forces in order to protect a small town from a mining tycoon and his goons, who plan to seize the residents' land by force. The seven-man army is led by a mysterious bounty hunter, and also includes a sharp-witted gambler, a troubled ex-Civil War soldier, a mountain man, an expert knife thrower, an outlaw, and a Comanche warrior.
MASTERMINDS - A dim-witted armored-car driver (Zach Galifianakis) is lured into taking part in a massive heist by a seductive co-worker (Kristen Wiig) and her criminal accomplice (Owen Wilson). But when his partners steal the money and betray him, he is forced to evade a police detective (Leslie Jones) and an eccentric hit man (Jason Sudeikis) while seeking his revenge.
MAX STEEL - Max discovers that his body can generate the universe’s most powerful energy. Unbeknown to Max, a techno-organic extraterrestrial named Steel has been keeping an eye on him. When they finally meet, they discover that together they form MAX STEEL.
MISS PEREGRINE’S HOME FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN - After a family tragedy, a boy (Asa Butterfield) follows a series of clues that lead him to a mysterious orphanage on a remote Welsh island. There, he discovers a community of children with unusual abilities.
OPERATION AVALANCHE - It's the height of the Cold War, and the US government is concerned a Russian mole has infiltrated NASA. In response, two young CIA agents (Matt Johnson and Owen Williams) investigate undercover, posing as a documentary filmmaking crew. They are shocked by what they discover. In reality, director Matt Johnson surreptitiously filmed Operation Avalanche on location at NASA; he obtained access by claiming he was making a student documentary.
WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS - John and Laura Taylor desperately want a baby. After exhausting all other options, they finally hire Anna to be their surrogate - but as she gets further along in her pregnancy, so too does her psychotic and dangerous fixation on the husband.
RAGTAG CINEMA – 10 Hitt Street 573-443-4359
REGAL STADIUM 14 THEATER – 2800 Goodwin Pointe Drive 573-817-0770
GOODRICH FORUM 8 – 1209 Forum Katy Parkway 573-445-7469
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[Table] IAmA: I just finished my first week of First Grade. AMAA.

Verified? (This bot cannot verify AMAs just yet)
Date: 2012-08-31
Link to submission (Has self-text)
Link to my post
Questions Answers
Would you rather fight a horsed sized duck or 100 duck sized horses? A horsed sized duck because i dont wont to fight a bunch.
Do you like the president? Yes.
(The other day she told me that she doesn't think Mitt Romney tells the truth on most things. For some reason, she didn't want to type this on here. But, she said that I could do it).
Are there any bullies in your class? Yes.
Ther was a boy that told me to put my but in his face.
That boy sounds very mean! Did you tell your teacher he said that? Yes.
She said i,m having a talk with your mom.
the boy's mom
Who is the biggest nerd in your class? Who is the coolest boy and coolest girl? Wat is a nerd?
Jonathan and jacqueline.
Nerds are people that are really smart! They like to read books and stuff like that. I like to read books.
Ask your mom/dad what a nerd is. Who do you think will be your favorite classmate this year? Gracelyn.
Why kind of lunches do you eat? I always had crummy sandwiches. :c. Sandwiches.
What are your favorite pizza toppings? Cese.
(She wants me to tell you that she likes to put cheese on top of her cheese).
How many kids are in a class these days? 19.
Do kids still do the pledge to the flag every morning? Yes and we do the texas flag.
What have you learned? She is eating a cookie right now, so I'm typing for her.
She says that she has learned math, how to paint, how to eat (she's joking) and that she can go on the far side of the field which she wasn't allowed to do when she was in kindergarten.
What is your favorite color? Mine is blue! Pink purple blue brown.
What do you think when you look into the night sky? I think I'm in outer space. (She's very literal).
Exactly what do you learn in first grade? I can't seem to remember what I did back then. We cut open a cocnut and we panted whateve we wanted. i panted afrak animals. we learnd math.
She painted African animals.
Can you post a picture of said painting? You never know, it could be awesome. Link to
(I had to post that for her).
Do you like your teacher? Yes she is funny!
What is your favourite part of school so far? Resas.i like it because i like to be loud.
What's your favorite TV show? What about book, and movie? Wild kratts.
Magic tree house.
Can you draw me a picture? What do you want me to draw.
A picture of a sheep. Link to
**sidenote: mom, read her the book, "The Little Prince". It was by far the best book I have ever read. (I told you that she's literal. It's a picture of -- sheep. Thanks for the recommendation. She loves some of the classics, like The Velveteen Rabbit and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi).
Spongebob or Patrick? She says that she doesn't really watch Spongebob, which is true. She says that if she sees it at all that she likes Spongebob. But, she just told me that Patrick is the "pink guy," so keep that in mind. :)
How do you feel about naptime? I dont have naptime.
She says that she only had it in Pre-K
What is life to you? Do you like it? Is it exciting? Yes. I like it. I like it because it's fun. I get to go places. I get to play with my toys. I get to read.
Edit: I asked her what life is all about, and she said it's about having fun.
Do you like dogs? If so whats your favourite dog? Golden retriever.
Did you ever get to go on any field trips? In kindergarden i went to the farm!
What's your favorite animal there? Pigs are my fav. Horses.
What are some of the math questions that your learning ? Wweather and calendar. I already know how to add and subtrakt.
Also what are some of the new words your learning to spell ? Before, because, mother, I,m revring my kindrgarden words.
What do you know about my country, India? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Thay have Elifinth and thay have the tower No.
elephants and the taj mahal
What do you think about Reddit? What do you want to be when you grow up? I like it.
Vet, zoolagist, science about aniamals.
(She mainly knows Reddit as a place where we find silly and cute animal pictures for her).
I wanted to be a zoologist when I was your age too. The hippo was my favorite animal. What is yours? cheetah
I have read through some of your questions/answers and you are a very smart young lady! This year will be my first year teaching kindergarten. Can you tell me something that you got to learn in kindergarten that helped you be ready for grade 1? Reading.
She also says that they did homework, got to count to 100, had a math store (this was a reward system), sang songs, and learned body parts.
What is your favorite thing to do outside of school? Play with my stufud aniamals. dance softball and swim.
Have you seen Lion King? That's one of my favorites. Yes I love it! I like it because simba drest up as a gron up.
(She's talking about the part in the song when he has the leaves around his head as a mane. Also, she was super excited that she spelled "Simba" right because she says that she just guessed).
What is your favorite joke? She says: "I have two favorite jokes."
Knock, knock. Who's there? Boo. Boo who? Why are you crying?
Knock, knock. Who's there? Lettuce. Lettuce in. It's cold outside.
Hi! Thank you for sharing your experiences with us! Some of my friends are studying to be teachers. Do you have any ideas about what makes a good teacher? I bet my friends would really appreciate your help! Haveing good stutenson students
She also says that being nice and trying to be good makes good teacher. Give hugs and smile.
Do you think President Obama tells the truth on all things? Yes.
(Mom and Dad don't agree).
What would you tell someone going into grade one? It,s aosma.
Cookies or brownies? Brownies.
Chocolate or strawberry? Chocolate.
Recess or naptime? Recess.
Do you feel that your ability to learn and be creative is repressed in any way? Do you think feeding the hungry or occupying Afghanistan and Iraq is more important? No.
Feding peple.
(We had to walk her through this one a bit. At first, she was all: "I don't even know what that means.)
Green eggs and Ham, or Cat in the Hat? Cat in the hat.
3+4? 7.
Cese. cheese (She wants me to tell you that she likes to put cheese on top of her cheese). Link to
OP will surely deliver. I asked about this again, and she said: "What if my favorite food was a fruit roll up?"
She also says that they aren't allowed to share food because the other person might have diseases or something.
People /casualiama exists for a reason. Mom here -- I'm a total rule follower and have been a redditor for well over five years. Honestly, I had no idea that subreddit existed. There are all types of AMAs posted on the main page, so it wasn't something that I thought to look for at all. Didn't mean to offend in that way. I respect the community and just thought it would be fun to share her brand-new experience as soon as it happened.
How do you feel about being taken advantage of all in the name of sweet sweet karma? Are you kidding?! She is loving answering the questions. I am watching her type and try to correct her errors, which is incredibly mind-blowing. It is also making me extremely proud. Also, with the exception of a few posts, this has been respectful and far more entertaining than watching the teevee.
Last updated: 2012-09-05 03:31 UTC | Next update: 2012-09-05 09:31 UTC
This post was generated by a robot! Send all complaints to epsy.
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Walk-Up Songs - YouTube We Dont Suck Anymore Baseball Walk Up Songs (Part 3) - YouTube 2018 Red Sox Walk Up Songs (Updated) - YouTube IKB: Best WalkUp Songs 2019 Part 1

The 2020 Ole Miss Baseball walkout songs is a cornucopia of chart-topping hits, deep cuts, classic records, and bangers that is honestly tailor-made for the entire family. Red Cup’s Ole Miss ... Two batters later, after an intentional walk and a groundout, Lorenz was at third base with the potential winning run. Jaimie Hoover's two-out, walk-off single brought a bouncing, fist-pumping Lorenz home and sent Florida to the Women's College World Series for the third straight year and 10th time in the last 12 seasons. It's a canon that spans rock, hip-hop, dance and country, and still includes pop songs as old as the '50s and as new as last week. To celebrate this canon, Billboard presents our list of the 100 ... The official athletics website for the Florida Gators Gators The 50 best workout songs can help you stay motivated. Whatever gets you pumped, TIME lists some of the best workout songs of all time.

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Walk-Up Songs - YouTube

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