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

Ignorance On Your Angry Chair

image

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… 🙂

Mental Song & Dance by Kult Kool-Aid

IMG_00129

NOTICE OF SUBMITTING PLAINTIFFS EXHIBITS THAT WILL BE POINTLESS IN THIS HEARING SCHEDULED IN THE WORLD OF INSANITY. HEREON AFTER CALLED FU8K FEST

Plaintiffs, Dumb Shit and Kult Kool- Aid, hereon referred to as Kult Kool-Aid or KKA,  undersigned, hereby submits Plaintiff’s Exhibits (which are attached hereto) to be used at the Order of Protect Hearing scheduled for 2013.  These exhibits include the following:

  • Complete and undisputable proof of an invasion of privacy by the plaintiffs, KKA.
  • Complete and undisputable proof of a lack of integrity and veracity by the plaintiffs, KKA.
  • Proof the KKA should be ordered to cut back on the Kool-Aid.

When I typed out the words Welcome to Fu8k Fest 2012 in the subject line I had no idea King Shit would want to read it over and over in front of everyone.  He was very proud of my work, showing it to every police officer who got the unfortunate call to the land of Fu8k Fest.  I kind of felt like he was not giving me due credit, so I started carrying my copy to show them first. I am not sure why, but KS was upset about my doing that.  After I gave him the honor of reading it at our first, of what will be many, meetings at our new “club house”, he lost interest for a while.

His new “show and tell” did not quite have the shock value of my Fest, but would give us a chance to discuss topics such as, what exactly is Necessary Personal Belongings, and what a judge means when she says “it’s yours” while paperwork is being handed out. He showed it to a few police officers, but I do not think he got the same rush as when talking about the Fest.  So he started working on an entire new song and dance.  I was flattered with the amount of time and effort he was spending on us.  At this point KS and I could not have our heart to hearts without our police babysitters. So I had the pleasure of discussing life issues with All Knowing Ruler of KKA, King Punk instead.

Even though is was an honor each and every time KP sent a message by way of the electronic mail,  I had asked him several times to use the old fashion telephone.  However, just like the other king he insisted on the written word.  I should thank him for that.  There is nothing better than a written conversation about my SUV twelve hours before they call it in as abandoned. 

When it was Dumb Shit’s turn to go to our new club house for a meeting, it was apparent she wanted this FU8KFEST she started to end, she kept saying she wanted it to be over.  Sorry DS, but but once a member of KKA, always a member.  The Kool-Aid fuses all member’s minds together.  They lose the ability to think for themselves, but gain the special gift to look someone in the eye and lie under oath. They also learn how to write fiction to submit in court.  Consideration for consistency in their submitted fiction needs to be discussed at their next gathering, as there is none.

At this meeting I knew what the chain of command in KKA was.  From the top… King Punk (not present for this meeting)  King Shit,  anyone who thought we needed to spend Christmas in a half way house without our son while his dogs go to the pound, and then Dumb Shit.  King Shit must have spent days working on the new song and dance for DS’s initiation into our new club.  I did not really care about the ban against contact, we were not planning on having lunch with her.  We were there to see the new and exciting show KKA was performing that day, starring King Shit.  They never disappoint..

Actual list of exhibits attempted by KKA to have admitted as evidence.

  1. Email from Defendant dated 12/26/12.  (Fu8k Fest)
  2. Photographs of 93 needles and syringes in the Defendants’ belongings.  (Yes, they are correct.  The DEFENDANT’S belongings, not the KKA’s, so I am not sure what they are trying to prove with those.  I thought we had one hundred, not ninety-three. Sticky fingers seem to go along with their very dirty hands.
  3. Various emails with threats by Defendants against Plaintiff.  ( One of my favorite parts is getting the big pack of evidence they put together so carefully. The very first sentence KS highlights every time from my Fu8k Fest is…King Shit do you understand how bad it is to slander someone to the police?  Someday I am going to have to ask him why he highlights that, but I am guessing it is not because he knows the answer. )
  4. Documents found in Defendants’ possession regarding profit and loss summary of illegal drug sales.

I am not sure if KKA ‘s paralegal really looked at the words of that sentence.  This was not found in our belongings they stole, but in Defendants’ POSSESSION.  I believe we would have noticed them taking it off our possession.  However, since they submitted them to a court as facts of profit and loss summary of illegal drug sales, and on our possession they must know something I do not. They may need to prove this one, as I am growing tired of the libel and slander. I remember exactly where that 22-year-old drug document was, so KKA’s invasion of privacy is becoming a problem.  I keep saying they need to cut back on the Kool-Aide.  But then again, we are all big boys and girls with free will, so to each their own.

BOSS IS BACK…

Boss shows his face publicly for the first time in twenty years in the photo at the top.  He is old school Mexican Mafia looking to step on the Cartels drug trade in the southwest.  Our son met him about five years ago while running heroin through the prison system in northern Cali.  They struck up a friendship in a biker bar after Boss stepped to a punk who was disrespecting.  They have had each other’s back ever since. The documents KKA submitted are from his youth in Chihuahua, Mexico.  He is uncertain as to why his numbers are that hard to decipher and was going to explain.  However, the defendants are long out of FU*KS to give about what KKA thinks.

Boss will be making future appearances in spun360.me

Fest Fun Continues On…

I pulled up to the house and the images of a week ago came fast and full of detail.  I was living it again, feeling the coldness and watching the confusion turn to anger in my son’s face.  The mob mentality that had been created from a perception was inconceivable.  The resulting damaged was something I would be dealing with months later.

Sleep that last week had been fractional at best, making it difficult to pull pieces of information together.  I was at the house for one reason, to get my son’s PS3 back from KS.

I followed the officer to the door thinking about how KS had told me not to come over on Christmas.  Apparently, they were going to have a wonderful time and did not want any interruptions.  I was not trying to upset my grandparents, but I was already a thief to them and I was certain that KS would continue to spin something from nothing. It no longer mattered what the truth was.

KS came to the door, his face showing a small hint of concern as I met his gaze.  Once the recognition of who at his door, out walked KS Smooth Operator.  The pretty red stone walkway should have been splattered with my puke while I stood there listening to his mouth run. Motioning with his hands, he explained to the officer how they had put everything I had in the house into my truck. The same truck that was locked and not on his property.

As the lies and slander start to flow from his “Godly” mouth he smiles, as he explains about my long history of drug use. I start to say something to him, and he calmly says my name, implying how sad it is and how he knows all about it.  I stomped to my car and hit the roof, took a breath and walked back. My mental state had been pushed to the limits by King Psycho, who by now was thinking he was untouchable.

The cool, calm, and collected “XANAXED OUT” KS continues on, sighing with a sadness as he tells how he tried to help another poor drugged out family member with the same result. God’s humor was in full effect that day as that was the same cop who had been on that call.  I am not sure if KS knew or just thought he was that smooth.

The officer doing his job, questioned me about drugs and the welfare of my child.  KS had already crossed a lot of lines throughout his play in my world.  However,  putting a question into a cop’s head about the welfare of my child is a line crossed you do not come back from.  Especially after he had no problem kicking him out into the unstable care of his “drugging  thieving parents”.  Once I told that to the officer and showed him the note KS left on our door, he did not say another word about it.

When I told KS I wanted my PS3, he looked a little surprised, even stumbled a bit in his smooth talk.  He says,  “Oh, that is in the room under the TV stand”.  Really? Did  you not just tell that officer everything we owned from the room was in the truck you broke into?

He brings the out the PS3 and hands it to me.  I walk to my car telling him I will see him in court. I am certain he was saying something smooth back, but I was sick of his mouth as it was brown from all the shit he talked.  I really just wanted him to shut up for a few days and leave me alone. I got into my car and started it, but I could not breathe.  I shut the engine off as the cop came over to see if I was alright.  I said I was, and he told me relax for a second before I tried to drive.  We exchanged Merry Christmas’ and after a minute, I drove away.

Now King Shit was starting to get very board with his own life, so he created a different universe in which to tell his stories. He has quite a few followers who drank his Kool-Aid, and even a couple that must have taken an extra cup.  Because in the real world…she is on drugs + she is freaking out + she backed into the police car…would equal “field sobriety test” not “they let her go”.  That Kool-Aid must be good…

Doing Christmas…The Fest Way-Part One

I woke up on Christmas with my head throbbing.  I had not slept very long and had wasted too many hours trying to respond to more bullshit.  We were a week out, and I was still being accused of things I could not make up if tried.  I kept waiting for anyone in my family to explain what the hell was going on.  They must have been busy with the holidays and all the joy that comes with it this year.

King Shit’s email on the night of the 18th was full of “blah, blah”.  However,  one sentence stood out, ” I’d have to tell him about the Dumb Shit’s missing DVD player and drugs that were gone after you both were over there cleaning.”  The person KS wants to tell is my son, because apparently KS has no ability to decipher sarcasm. There was a lot more he would “have to tell him”.  I saved him the trouble and printed it out. Now my son can use the wisdom it contains as a guide to get through life.

My father had also sent an email about the mysterious “missing” items.  I did not read it until after K.S’s ramble, but his included a little more F-you in it.  His let me know that my mother had felt so bad she bought Dumb Shit a new DVD player.  If anyone would have bothered to ask, we would have given her one of five that we own.  I often wonder what they think I was going to do with another one, pawn it for fifty cents of crack?  Oh, wait I guess it would be for fifty cents worth of the same “pills” they all take.

Since every dime we had been able to scrape up had been to keep a roof over our heads, there was not much for Christmas.  When my son asked if his gifts from everyone were in the truck that was parked by KS’s house I wanted to throw up.  I had sent emails to my parents demanding a few things that only came out because I was pissed.  However, the one demand I did mean was they needed leave their grandson something for Christmas before they went on their “holiday”.

Another family member did tell me later that they did not know where to leave anything. That is ironic because the one person who took ten seconds to think about my son managed to get us some goodies without even seeing us. I remember Christmas as a child, and I know for a FACT that my deceased grandparents would have made sure I had something.  Even if my mother was sitting on the corner smoking crack after stealing their diamond’s to buy it. I guess the fact they think I am not entitled to human decency, runs through my blood into his.

In our mad rush to get out of the Hell House, we left our son’s PS3 in the room.  In a week we had gone from you can come by to get your things anytime to ” step foot on the property and I will call the police.”  Which by now there was no way I would step on the property without the police. So much shit had been made up I had no idea what was going to come next.  Maybe… steal my grandmother’s antiques?

Within two days of the “missing” DVD player KS had spun a little story about “antiques”.  I would like to think that one of them had made a comment to him about how asinine the DVD player sounded.  However, now these were not missing, I was “planning” on stealing them so I think he had digressed a little.  My father did send an email asking if it was true that I was planning on stealing some items from my grandmother that had been under fifty feet of dirt and crap scattered across a half an acre of backyard.

The police followed me to the Hell House to get my son’s PS3 on Christmas Day.  I had promised him I would get it and I do not promise my kids anything unless I know I can make it happen.  However, if I had known KS was going to play dirty I might have thought twice before making that one…

 

Welcome to F*#K Fest 2012

On Christmas Eve we decided to not book another night in Fountain Hills.  I have no idea how we got everything crammed into the car, we must be learning.  We left not having our next hotel lined up, so we went to our main McDonald’s for some wifi and milk shakes.  Two hours later we were checking in to our new home ready for some peace and to enjoy Christmas.

During our constant struggle to keep a roof over our heads we also had to deal with what I now call “Insanity”.  This started with a family friend, Dumb-Shit, starting a rumor that was spun by King-Shit into something that actually affected how family treated me in different states.  Dumb-Shit is my mother’s best friend and has known me my entire life. The King- Shit is my father’s brother, who at one time I was very close to. Thirty-six hours before we found ourselves calling my best friend from McDonald’s, we had no idea what was about to happen…

We walked down the hall to the room the three of us had been staying in for the last two months.  There was a note on the door with my name on it.  I thought the handwriting looked liked my grandmother’s, but I was not sure.  We sat down talking about how things had started getting weird in the house.  There were nine people in the house and for the past week it seemed like something was very off.  It was like being in high school and we were being bullied and shunned.  My husband was getting the brunt of it, but he had been keeping it to himself. I had noticed a difference with the treatment of our son.  At the time I just thought it was a difference of opinion  Looking back I cannot believe I did not see it sooner. However, this was my family.  I had a trust that they would not sick a knife in my back and twist it until it hurt my son.

I could feel my heart start to pound as my eyes skimmed across the words that had been typed.  ” It would be best if you left tomorrow.  I am telling you today so you have time to pack some clothes.”  Pack some clothes?  What the hell is King-Shit talking about?  I read it again, letting it soak in for a second before I looked at my husband.  We have to be out tomorrow I told him as I handed him the now famous note….

The next 24 hours were a blur.  Disbelief, shock, hurt , and a million other feelings ran through us like a a freight train running off the tracks.  How could they do this to our son a week before Christmas, I thought as I tried to think what to pack. What  do you put into a Saturn to survive with a 12 year old in the winter.  Scottsdale still gets cold at night. What paper work did we need? What did we own that we could sell for fast money?  We had no bank accounts, no credit and our poor little Saturn had seen better days.

Normal people would be thinking what the hell did you do to get kicked out with your son with less than a days notice….” You being here is causing Gram and Gramp stress”  I understood that to a point.  However, what about the stress of seeing us running around asking what we did, could we stay until the end of the week, could our son stay to finish out the week of school…I think that was little stressful.

It was 6 pm and we were trying to get the last of our things to our car having no idea where we were going, when I hear my name called.  I look up and there is King Shit’s wife with my grandmother who is crying saying that King-Shit had said we had a place for the night.  One of many lies he would tell my grandmother in the upcoming weeks.  They ask us to stay until the day after Christmas.  We had no where to go, so we went back inside.  What I will never understand is how we all sat at that same table and ate supper as if the last 24 hours had not happened.  That is some insanity.

Later that night I received an email from King-Shit.  It was becoming apparent that he only spoke with his fingers and a keyboard.  Not sure what happen to his balls that I had assumed he was born with.  Maybe he lost them. The email floored me and spun my adrenaline into a tornado that is still spinning….A few hours later we were at our now favorite McDonald’s….