Mom, I Am All Adventured Out..

Growing up I was blessed with being able to travel with my maternal grandparents several times a year.  Ranging anywhere from Disneyland and Sea World to camping and boating.  I was with my grandparents at  Lake Powell the day it was considered officially full in June of 1980. Lake Powell is my favorite place in the world and the resting place of my grandparents.

Except for the times my grandfather flew us in his Cessna, vacations were usually started with a Bronco pulling a trailer or a boat name The Beverly Anne II.  The drive was usually long enough for something to leak, break, fail, catch fire, or blow out along way.  Adding  adventure long before we were screaming at the darkness in Space Mountain

It was my grandmother who gave me the term “adventure” during those times that I still use to this day.  Living in a 30 year old pink single wide trailer with only a swamp cooler to get through the Vegas summer heat, was quiet an adventure.  My grandmother took one look at the trailer and told me to just pretend I was on a camping adventure.  There was even a big pine tree growing by the back door, reminding me of many Colorado camping trips.  After spending two summers “camping” and being pregnant with my second child we thought it better to end that trip and bought a house.

When the market went to shit in Las Vegas and we made the mistake of re-financing beyond our means we lost our home we had for eleven years.  So we started a new adventure in Arizona.  While most of my family lives there I was not really close to them.  I had spent 17 years in Vegas, I did not know them and they certainly did not know me.  They thought they did after reading all our private letters and journals, something I think they are proud of.  I do not think they would like me to do that to them. Actually, the thought to do that would not cross my mind.

A week before Christmas they kicked us out with our twelve year old son.  They have lied, stolen, and have turned into people I do not know.  I had an awesome childhood which makes what they did even more hard to deal with.  Something changed when my maternal grandparents passed away.  I know in my heart there is not a chance this would be happening if my grandfather were alive.

My grandfather’s favorite holiday was Christmas, and I think he sat in Heaven watching what was being done to his great grandchild, and if you can get pissed in the afterlife, I am certain he was.  My son was in a hotel room with his mom and dad who were on the verge of breakdown, while my parents got drunk with my daughter on a little holiday vacation at a bar in Laughlin.  Something is very wrong with that.

Two weeks after we were kicked out and we had been living in hotels, I told my son to think of this as an adventure.  I even said we could just live in hotels for a year while I wrote about our adventures.  Nothing is as easy as it sounds and hotels got expensive.  A twelve year old needs to be in school, not sitting in a McDonald’s on my laptop while his father and I figured out a way to get 60 dollars for a night at hotel in the ghetto.

A few weeks ago I was talking to my son about our adventures and he said something I will never forget.  He said “Mom, I am all adventured out.”  It broke my heart to hear him say that because I knew this adventure was not the kind my grandmother was talking about.  However, this adventure taught him to have compassion for others I have never seen, especially in a twelve-year-old.  Everyone we have come across has told me what a helpful and kind kid he is.  Teachers are telling me he is intelligent and articulate.  That being said, our adventure has done damage to his trust in people and given him a fear and an uncertainty a child should not have to deal with.

I know there are families and children who have horrible lives compared to ours.  I thank God every day for what we do have and I know it will only get better.  We will have the adventures my grandmother talked about, and our son will learn to trust again.

 

Arizona’s Bullet Proof Paper

Hollow PointCreating one email to insure an order of protection will be placed on you is not that easy.  It has to be a detailed step by step run down of what you would like to do.  Involving the elderly will improve chances the judge will issue it against you.  However, if you really want to see your name after the word defendant, make sure the plaintiff writes fiction well.

With an OOP, they are going to arrest you first, ask questions later.  Which will probably stop most from contacting the plaintiff for the next year.  You do not want to spend the night sleeping on urine saturated cement, digesting a dry bologna sandwich and peanuts, with twenty other happy souls and one toilet .  If you are lucky enough to live in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s county, you will get to enjoy your meal in a 120 degree sweat filled tent wearing pink. I do enjoy being outside, feeling the morning sun on my face, and I look good in pink.  However, I learned years ago that, I, in fact, do not like Joey’s bologna sandwiches.

You have to be careful, especially if you are not certain who is involved in wanting you to meet the sheriff. Situations will be created, enabling constant contact with the authorities.  While this can be stressful at first, most cops are understanding of the situation.  They have even heard the F-Bomb dropped once or twice, and probably will not freak out much if you slip. If they ask strange questions, remember they were probably told a story, so just answer the best you can.  Once enough police reports are written documenting you are not crazy, but the plaintiff may have some issues, the questions fade.

If you ask for a hearing, and it results in anything other than dismissed, Brady will apply.  Which means you are on the “Fed’s Gun Blacklist”  for the next year.  You probably want to re-frame from having a gun within your reach.  Notice, I said “a” gun, it does not have to be one acquired for yourself.  If you know it is around, according to Mr. Brady, it becomes yours.  You might ponder that idea into clarity, over the next five years in the Federal Pen, if it confuses you now.

I one hundred percent believe in the second amendment, and in Arizona’s gun laws.  If a criminal wants a gun, they are going to get one. Or five AK-47‘s with a thousand rounds, if that is their desire.  Regardless of the law, Mr. “What You Need”, is always standing on the corner, like a Walmart greeter to the black market.  Supply will never disappear as long as there is a demand.  Until society does a 180 and someone figures out why we shoot each other, I demand the right to defend myself.

Which brings me to the bullet proof paper that has me listed as a defendant.  The creative writer of fiction, the plaintiff,  is quoted as saying, ” I have no doubt, she would use a gun if she had one.”  I did have one, when I sent my OOP granting email, a nice Smith and Wesson 45 with a hair trigger.  The hollow point ammunition that filled the two clips may have even been illegal, I do not really know.  I can promise there is not a lot that would stop one of them once the trigger was pulled.  Certainly not a piece of paper.

I do respect the order, and the gun sold with me never breaking the Brady Law.  My beautiful Smith and Wesson will be replaced one day.  When it is, I will still continue to fight my battles with words, maybe even a F-bomb or two.  That being said, come at me with an intention to physically harm my family, it is a guarantee, I will use my right to replace F-Bombs with hollow points.

Serenity Courage Wisdom

You sit, the music plays loud.  Your stomach twisted in knots.  The lies you hear are heavy. More come. The reason escapes your ability to understand why.  You will stop it.  It will crush you to watch.  You know you should look away.  You cannot. You are tired.  You try to get the normalcy back. Your spun 360, face to face with the same shit, over and again. 

You want to move on.  It consumes you.  You run the pictures of words on a loop.  It never stops. You pray for serenity. It is the calm contentment that will slow your run. You feel the freedom you have earned in your struggle.  You broke away long ago.  You keep looking back for a glimpse of recognition.  It is not there. You cannot recall when it was. 

A place you adore. The hot morning sun burning your skin as your dreams fade.  You can smell the bacon, hear the voices laughing.  You look down, the water cool, reflecting back at you like a mirror.  You feel the tears burn your checks.  A moment remembered is all you have of a life that is no longer yours. You pray for courage.

You look down to your calm, the cool blue mirror looking back. You jump, the rush of the freedom filling you. You know the mistakes you have made.  They are your own. To learn from them, or not, is your choice.  God is always patient.  You grow tired of being right.  He still there.  Decisions, choices, repercussions begin to mix.  You can no longer tell which are yours to accept.  You get stung, trying to untangle the mess.  You look up, towards the Wisdom, and pray.  The light comes down engulfing your storm, leaving you free. My Lake

Ego of The Asshole

The adrenaline rush that comes when you wake into your life and realize the insanity is not a dream, is like slamming some Starbucks for an hour before you open your eyes.  When you know that your thoughts from years ago have been taken by people who are supposed to be your family, vomit mixes with your morning Starbucks.ASS

You have to be some prideful assholes to open someone’s mail.  A statement not addressed to you, and from a doctor office…God must have taken a day off, so the assholes stepped in for a bit.  Holding another piece just to see if someone will loose their property in another state, it is time for a hobby.  Doing it all while a mental member of your cult chases someone with his fucking insanity, distracting them from what year it is, it might be time to pull your happy ass’ out of retirement.

When you have to actually touch people thoughts, and steal their things to “GET” something on them, your brains have shrunk from all the “DRUGS” you swallow.  You are demented in thinking returning SOME shit after your greedy grubby dirty ass hands have touched it all will make us go away and move on with our lives.  You should know by now nothing ever turns out like you think it will.  Kind of like when you tried to force someone into a shelter by kicking them out with nothing a week before Christmas. Acting as if the child involved means nothing more than dog shit you stepped in on the way to the bar during your holiday.  That would have been so much easier…Damn that free will, it can be a bitch when you think you are gods.

Some assholes think they are the smartest thing since Al Gore invented the internet.  Looking up law suites and financial information so they can say “I know blah blah”, as if is some sort of magic crystal ball only they have access to.  Before running your mouth about who has law suites filed on who, pull your head out of your ass for two seconds and look up the difference between plaintiff and defendant. There is a thing called a dictionary.  Shit, try Wikipedia once in a while, the schools wont allow it for reference, but I think they might for the special assholes.

The punks and assholes need to take a break from raping someone’s thoughts, rolling around in stolen shit while naked and say the word enjoyed by so many…”Hmmm”, and figure out what zone three primary residence means.

A favorite “Hmmm” quotes from the “all-knowing ten-year old girl”.

” Does your son know about the drugs?  I hope not.  You say you’re not on them, but why would someone go to the pain clinic on Oct 26th?  Hmmm, I can only think of one thing, that’s where you get drugs.”

How did you come to find out October 26th was the exact date genius?….Sorry, too late to think up the lie…who would believe a little girl’s rant without a little backing…The assholes are not only so VERY smart, they are physic. 🙂

Picasso Of The Lopsided

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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

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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.

Family Loyalty in The Traditional Fest Way

A little “FAMILY FEST” dialog between Spun and King Punk

What have we done, invasion of privacy what have we done,conversion of property what have we done???????????? maliciously made up the lie caused my SUV to be impounded.  Did I thank you for that one yet?

AB....MEANS... ABANDONED...

AB….MEANS… ABANDONED…

You keep asking why we are doing this, what is it we are doing? Umm, what have you done? Are you sure you are still unclear on that?

I’m trying to stay out of the mess between King Shit, and you.. I believe since you started the “mess”, I will call you the creator of FU8K FEST 2012 and yes I got copied on e-mails from King Shit and yes I copied him e-mails that you sent me…A warm up to sharing our journals, letters, medical records, etc.  Was there not enough mail coming to you, address to us, so you felt the urge to share other ways?  My apologies to everyone, I should have had more mail going there…

Did you enjoy touching everything? Too bad our personal sex tapes we made were in the storage you thought needed to be auctioned off to strangers.  Really though, your kindness overwhelms me at times. How can we ever pay you back for all you have done.

Just kidding about the sex tapes. They are actually DVD’s not tapes, and we picked them 2013-03-10 18.12.55(1)up on one of the several drugs runs we made to Vegas.  We thought you were going through a lot of trouble invading our privacy so we put them on the internet to make it easier for you.  Are we not the best or what?

So don’t e-mail me anymore, that’ll show me….What? Are you saying you no longer want anymore words of wisdom from me?  Now if you spent half the time you do on the computer trying how to get an O of P on King Shit finding out all about the laws about this and that, how you’ll show him a thing or to and that he’s just not dealing with some idiot that knows nothing about nothing…

…Sorry, I had to break up your really long thought… Yes my King Punk, that is exactly what I do all day….Your Peter Rabbit is the one who makes sure my son has a roof over his head and food in his stomach…I understand the Internet is a lost concept to you, to each their own.  However, learning to read what is on that order of protection concerning the words PROPERTY, and NECESSARY DOCUMENTS took two seconds.  I guess none of you can read those big words.

Like I told King Shit back in the day…have someone outside your cult read some shit once in awhile. Stop analyzing My Emails, My Welcome to FU8KFEST2012, My PRIVATE mail, thoughts, medical records, trying to find out “this and that” as you like to say…the big words will confuse you…

you might find time to get a job and find a place to live and put a decent roof over your son’s head and give him a normal life. No thanks, I have seen what “normal” people do all day.  Thinking up ways to invade our privacy, steal, lie, and finding even more ways to be the biggest hypocrites, not to mention assholes, is not something I want to teach my son.  You normal people should get a hobby to expand your horizons beyond me.

I know its not your fault, its mine, mrs.King Punk, King Shit,  You are correct up to that point, this mess is not my fault.  As far as the following two, Twerp and Twerpette, I am not certain yet, time will tell. However, I do not believe Peter rabbits,Tom thumbs ,Supermans, and all the other people in the world, had a freaking thing to do with this, you get all the credit. You should feel special..

Feel free to copy this to anyone, and tell us all…Thank you for your permission, I will feel free to do what I want with this…Just a quick FYI….Permission is something you did not have from us to touch our personal property.  Permission is something the Judge DID NOT give you classy people to touch, move, sell, give away, read, our property.  Nothing of ours, was, is, or will ever be abandoned…

The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends

WHAT HAVE WE DONE? Oh, I do not know…Maybe created and ran off the tracks the biggest FU*K FEST of your lives… 🙂