Consequences Will Follow The Chaos You Created

When the storm finally dies down, you look back at the chaos left and wonder if you will ever be able to make sense of it.  In the midst of the insanity your questions and concerns were constantly ignored.  You were not worth the breath required to respond.  The lack of human compassion and an unwillingness to see past the ignorance that blinds them, has left you searching for the strength needed to pick up the pieces crushed in their obliviousness.

You have tried to stop their idiocy for a year, shocked that their philistine way of thinking is unbreakable.  You have acquired the knowledge and skills needed to force the answers you seek from them.  The complaint you must file forces them to make a choice.  Answer for their actions legally, or keep their heads in the sand with the false sense of security that you are vacuous, with the brain function of a slug.  Consequences will always follow the choice.


Follow Your Coyote

Their path you are to follow looks clear…It looks easy…It is like walking on air…For miles you can see the open space in front…Nothing clouds the view…you can see everything ahead long before you have to adjust your step..You turn to look over your shoulder…You can see a reflection of the path in front of you…Everything is the same… You start to wonder if this is all there is on this well-worn road…

The Monarch touches your hand for a split second, pulling your eyes to follow..He dances around the bright blooming flower that grows on the side…The humming bird drinks her nectar…You wonder…Can no one else see that beauty…Why do you stay on this path…



You continue on, every step becoming like last….The Coyote plays hide in go seek, watching as you walk…The flicker of his ears allowing the sun to reflect the morning dew as it flies through crisp air…His dark eyes searching your soul, wondering if you have the fearless craving to seek out more than you understand…

A small break appears in the cactus and trees that surround you…Sitting on a rock…the Coyote stares…waiting with his knowledge for you to follow…You stumble and you fall…You cry out as the cactus are sharp and rocks do not bend…

You stand proud with bloody knees and scraped elbows pulling the quills out…Next to you are those who laughed when you followed the Coyote to your own path…You will heal…Your mind is quick…Your heart softens into kindness…Your eyes able to see beauty they cannot….

And you will follow…What is Yours…

Leaving them to continue on What is Theirs…Only following their own refection…

English: Coyote at Ridgefield National Wildlif...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Picasso Of The Lopsided



Pablo Picasso - L´Arlequin
 (photo: oddsock)

When your family acts if you do not exist it is extremely liberating.  It is natural to want approval from them concerning everything you do.  As a child you bring home the clay pot that looks like crap, but you do not know that, and your parents do not see it as that.  They look at it with big eyes and smile at you. You watch their reaction and think you are the freaking Picasso of lopsided clay creations.

By the time you are an adult you know their looks of judgment. You know the tone they speak to each other in when they disapprove of your new clay pot.  While a piece of it will always reflect how you were raised, once into adulthood the creation is your own experiences.  You can see endless colors reflecting as the sun drifts off to sleep, waking the night with purple and pink.  Your clay becomes soaked in bright and bold.  You are once again the Picasso of your creation. However they cannot see it, their color blindness allowing only the black and white to exist.

Ignorance On Your Angry Chair


The idea to merge the camera and phone into one, is genius. I was able to take full advantage of it as I was texting on my way to our current domain. To “coexist” you have to acknowledge there is someone besides you trying to survive in this world.  When you ignore their existence because you do not like their faith, lifestyle choices or the way they express themselves, your ignorance can cost more than money.

I have used bad language a time or two through out my life. Some ghetto slang may even be spun into it depending on the situation.  I cannot say they are my proudest moments in life, but I am certainly not ashamed of them.  Some colorful F-Bombs are justified at their moment of birth.  Life stirs up some shit, conception takes place, and before you know it you are watching your baby F-Bomb grow into a giant as it hits your target.  It is at that moment, snowflakes of the ignorance turn into a blizzard, and you better take cover.

Most control their F-Bombs around certain people and situations.  Make it out of your thirty’s not having found yourself wearing the bracelets of a pissed off cop you met while running your mouth, you’re probably good.  Ignore someone’s existence by cutting them off in traffic, they might toss you a F-Bomb and go about their day. Have a crazy ex-husband who is not to be ignored on the road, and  the bombard of F-Bombs that bounce about might sting you. Watch the bounce evolve into idiots having a pissing contest with their side arms a few times, it will change your perception.  The F-Bomb wont kill you, the stray bullet might.

The poster child for true ignorance is the one who sits high up on their angry chair, filth dripping down his mouth from the afterbirth of racial slurs he creates.  His ears become born again virgins, his eyes suddenly blinded by the F-Bombs you throw trying to stop his storm of shit.  He rises higher fueled by that which he claims to despise.  His storm sucking your despair into his lungs, it has become his crack cocaine. You cease throwing, his crack gone, his angry chair full of pride and ignorance engulfing him as he screams for more.

Phoenix Bad Ass @ 80-Days -Bring It On, Punks!

It has been exactly eighty days since we sat at our McDonald’s for the first time.  If I had looked into a crystal ball ninety days ago and seen even a silver of the first few days, I would have taken the crystal back to the fraud who sold it.


It was only a few hours earlier you had reached out to your parents in an effort to get your son out of the mess.  You were completely ignored.  You spend Christmas hearing you need to go to a half way house.  You start to see this reaches farther than you could imagine.  You wast days trying to get anyone in your family to see how insane this is. You do not know they are the insanity.

Orders of protection are filed. You are floored with lies they say so easily.  You start to put things together. Times and dates are making more sense. You ask for a hearing on something you do not care about.  You want to know if they went into your private papers.  You have your answer.  You cannot believe they thought they could spin it into something.  You keep waiting for Ashton from MTV’s Punked  to walk out.

You still get emails from out-of-state saying they hope you can get some help.  Your weeks out and you wonder exactly what kind of help they think you need.  You learn information that makes it crystal clear how this started.  You could kick yourself for trying to explain anything to your parents.  They are so past not helping, they are growing tired of kicking dirt in the hole they threw you in.  You start telling them to back off.

They keep coming at you.  The poor little Saturn that has gotten you everywhere deserves a break.  You get money to get your Explorer running.  They find out.  They lie to the tow company, it is abandoned they say. The email says the charge for day one is the same for day 10. They lied.  You tell them to back off.

An email sent to you sarcastically saying “what did we do, what did we do”.  You wonder at what point will they see this for what they made it into.  You will never speak to them again. They are concerned about your son.  They are asking others questions, trying to find out any information.  They want him.  You remember when they would not take him.  They will never see him again.  You know the picture they are trying to build of who you are. They think they know you.  You know they don’t.  You tell them to back off.

You watch your son as he opens the door for her, his voice deep talking about hot fudge sundaes.  You think about the past eighty days and know there nothing you cannot do.   You know God does not give you more than you can handle. He knows you are a Bad-Ass.  You tell them….. BRING IT ON…

The Mental Email of Wisdom

When I opened the door the day after I emailed the F-fest to King Shit I was not surprised to see a cop standing there.  As I was served the Order of Protection I smiled, and thought KS must have really enjoyed my present to him.  A tiny part of his heart must have been crushed when the court would not give him one on the 6′ 4′ 240 pound ghetto husband of his 100 pound niece.  Sorry my King Shit, but you cannot have everything. Santa has other boys and girls to think of too.

Three days before the OOP was served, KS had sent the start of email conversation between him and myself, that I both love and hate. He is a complete asshole and needs to learn to keep my son’s name out of his mouth.  On the other hand, the arrogant ignorance is so outrageous I have to laugh at times.

He starts by saying… “Please don’t make any plans for coming over Christmas Eve day, or on Christmas day.  Thanks”.  To this day, I think that is one of the most telling statements written.  The disconnect from the reality of what is happening that jumps out of that sentence is crystal clear.

I responded to him with, “You really must be insane if you even thought for a second that I wanted to step foot on that property.  The fact you took the time to send an email speaks volumes…Priceless”.

King Shit replies with a long email that starts with…”Well, I guess now that you don’t want to step foot on this property you don’t want any of your stuff….Blah are such cowards..Blah Blah…I do let Gram read all the emails you send, boy is she ever proud of you…Blah Blah.. Don’t even plan on coming over on Christmas Day Eve day, or Christmas day.  We are going to have a wonderful Christmas here, and we don’t want any interruptions”.

Did I not just say I would not step foot on the property in response to your first “No Christmas for You” demand?  Thank you for making that clear, our dog was confused.  You said Christmas Eve day, so I am guessing you are good with Christmas Eve night.   As far as not wanting my stuff, I believe I do.  I bought back few of my things that you so generously gave to goodwill, you piece of shit.

King Shit continues on and in general says..” I found something’s you were planning on stealing still on my property blah blah blah” Then he says…” Hmmm, imagine that, you not only steal from Dumb Shit, now we have to go through everything to make sure you haven’t taken anything else.  Your cousin did the same thing, so I spose I’ll find other things missing when I look for them.”

Mr. Idiot, you are looking on your own property for your things.  How was I taking anything when it was on YOUR property? What about my 52 inch flat screen you stole, and hid in the back of someone’s garage covered up?  I think that went past the planning stage Mr. Sticky Finger’s.  I should have pressed charges when the cop asked.  I did not because of the word “family” and I am not an asshole like everyone else in this F*ck Fest.

He continues on, telling me what horrible parents we are…”You know in only a few years he is going to wonder why my parents don’t work, why do we move around so much, why were they mad at everyone and everyone was so mean to us”.

Your mentality is that of a very slow ten-year-old girl. Which makes this hard for you to understand, but my son is VERY clear as to why we are pissed off.  Also, when you know you are being mean like you say you are, it is called intentional infliction of emotional distress. I know, such big words. No worries, you will catch up one day.
King Shit ends his mental email of wisdom with the following…” I hope your proud of what you’re doing to your mom.  Keep it up and I don’t think she will be around very long.  I have never seen her so hurt, all because of your selfishness, jealousy, and since of entitlement…Get some help and quit playing this stupid little game, all you’re doing is dragging yourself deeper and deeper.  If you feel the need to contact anybody else, go ahead, everyone already knows the story.  All you are doing is proving how dumb you really are”.

When this started I wanted so much to believe that if my parents knew everything that was going on they would slow KS’s crazy train down.  Nope, I was wrong.  My father, Asshole King Punk, was the one hanging out the locomotive window yelling,  “Come on everyone, grab that Kool-Aide, we have lives to F*ck with.  One is a twelve-year-old, so if you start to “feel” this may be wrong,  just DRINK UP! ”

Creation of the F*** Fest Manifesto

Christmas Day 2012 started with a race against the clock.  Eleven AM was our drop-dead time, and my son did not need to be moved again. I had a system for picking and paying for our hotels which required the internet.  Per my luck, the hotel internet was down for a few hours, so I found myself driving to our second home McDonald’s.  The streets were deserted and the parking lot completely non-existent of human kind.  It was Christmas, and most people were with their families, enjoying their own special traditions and making new ones.

I thought about how my son must feel.  Trying to explain why he was being treated like he did something wrong was not possible. He had already noticed not being invited out to my parents during Thanksgiving while his sister was in town.  Now it was Christmas and his sister was once again with them on a little holiday trip.  When he asked where his presents were from them, I lied.  The truth was, I had no freaking idea. Who does that to a child on Christmas, who is already in the middle of a mess created by adults?

I heard the “Merry Christmas” sounding exactly like I needed it to. I could feel warm childhood memories calm my emotions.  My uncle sounded just like my grandfather, and I held on to those feelings until I heard how he said my name. It was off, and I knew they had been told something by my mother.  When the first thing my aunt said was  to calm down because we needed to find a half way house,  I had to hang up. I could not believe how far this had gone.  Over what?

We had been forced out a week before Christmas with no reason. Every time I turned on my computer there was another email from King Shit. We were being slammed to anyone my family thought we may have contact with.  My son was being treated like shit. My father’s only words to me on Christmas when I called to ask him to shut up his psycho brother, was for me to do it myself.  Heartless is word that comes to mind when I think about that day.

I needed it to stop for two seconds before I lost my mind. I had not threatened King Shit, yet he kept saying how he was going to get an order of protection against my husband and myself.  I needed a break from him for two seconds so I gave him my F*** Fest Manifesto for Christmas.  He said thank you by getting the Order of Protection against me. I slept for almost two days straight after that.  It was just the break I needed and well worth the OPP.