The Unicorner of Vengeful Atrocities

Who I am, and What I'm Doing Here

2011-11-30T17:41:00.001-08:00

I don't see myself gaining many new readers here, but who knows? So, I am a fallen Stumbler who has gone through a metric-ton of life changes recently. I love to write, but the home for my writing was recently taken from me (and the rest of us ex-Stumblers). So I have decided to make some new sites where I will basically mirror all I write. No need to follow me everywhere, like I know you want to. If you found me somewhere, just stay there. Be confident you will see all I write in the future. However, if you found me on Categorian, I started from scratch there with NO ARCHIVES. So you might want to find me elsewhere, if you are, indeed, interested in reading my archives from SU.

I am 34 years old, divorced for barely two months. I was married for 13 years, and I thought I had it made. But, hey, I didn't. Turns out I was trapped in a life I thought was my destiny. I was living outside of Atlanta, struggling every day. I was not as happy as I thought I was. Anyway. I live in Nashville now, and I have friends I would die without. I am ceaselessly amazed by this, since I have lived here for only 5 months, but the people here are amazing. I live with my best friend in the whole world, another fallen Stumbler. (If you know me, you know who he is.) He has been my hero, and he means more to me than I could ever express. I'm still unemployed, but being fresh out of CNA class, I am confident I will find work soon. Fuck ME, man, not working sucks the biggest balls you can imagine. In fact, think of the biggest balls you can, and make them even bigger. That's how big those balls are. HUGE.

I have a daughter. She's 11 years old and doesn't live with me. She did when her dad and I first split, but I felt terrible for taking her from her home town, her family, and her friends. I could tell she was extremely unhappy, so I let her go back to her dad. Well, we discussed it, and I gave her a choice. She thought it over for a day, then said she wanted to go back. It was the hardest thing I ever did, EVER. But I have no regrets. She has gone through her share of struggles, and has been forced to grow up a bit faster than I would prefer. Or, I should say, she is CHOOSING to grow up faster than I would prefer. Many people have judged me for my decision to let her live with her dad. Some think, when they hear he has custody, that I must be an unfit mother. I was prepared for that, and I deal with it. Luckily I don't hear much about it, but sometimes... that question: "Why does her dad have custody?" Is that really anyone else's business? No. But here I am, airing it for the world to see.

So yeah. That is a very rough summary of shit, most of which you already knew. But like I said, I might gain a million followers and become rich and famous from these blogs. I gotta at least establish who I am, yo.

Moved Again... Or Shall I Say... I am Spreading Like a Disease

2011-10-25T14:19:00.000-07:00

I cloned myself on wordpress. Tits and Wiggles. Go there, if you want to see all the same shit here in another location.

Toga! Toga! (originally created Sept 6, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:25:00.001-07:00

Holy shit! Dana came to Nashville for the weekend, as you may have seen on Kristen's pages. What a fabulous time we had! The toga party was definitely the highlight for me, since I, er, drank myself under the table and got too sick to attend the football game the next day... But still. The party was one of the best I have ever been to.

John, Dana, and I were the sexiest people there, of course.

Lucky Doug was the Sheriff on patrol. He kept us all in line.

Kristen and I took this picture specifically so Doc Barleycorn could fap to it.

Dana did what he does best and blew up lots of balloons for the pool... and these bitches lit up, so how 'bout that, hmm?

It truly was a magical night.

For John (originally created Aug 2, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:22:00.001-07:00

I had asked some stumblers to come up with ideas for stories...

Of course I had to write one for John... he is my favorite person on this earth besides my daughter. However, since his request is fictional, not to mention fucking general as hell, I have taken some time trying to come up with something exceptional. For those of you who knew me in the old days (most of you), you will recall I used to write fiction quite often, but with the help of the stumbler formerly known as Mr-Pickett, I had images to work with. I have just taken the long, long journey across the house to ask him if he could send me an image or two to work with. With any luck, he will send me something in the next couple minutes. If not, I will be *forced* to come up with something entirely in my imagination, which could be extremely hard. (that's what she said...) So, an image is coming, I have just been informed, so let the story telling begin:

Please be aware I have had some alcoholic beverages of my own this evening...

Fucking Bill, he really drinks too much. I have told him time and time again, "Bill, stop with the alcoholic drinking habits, because you really can't keep a suitable zoo career doing that." But see, here is his weird thinking. He is one of those who thinks we humans evolved from monkeys. He thinks his ancestors *are* monkeys. During holiday times, he goes and chills in the monkey cage at the zoo. He makes dinner for them and everything. Of course, bananas are part of any meal he makes. Thanksgiving, for example, he is stuffing a turkey with some fucking bananas. Monkeys like that shit. Banana gravy and stuff like that. Ick, my stomach just turned. Anyway.

Bill. He has a tendency to drink Phillips vodka (filtered, because, hey, that makes a difference, does it not?) on the job. His job is to clean the monkey cages and make sure they're fed. Well, one Sunday afternoon, he polished off a liter of vodka before his 10:00 am shift... and mind you, Sunday is a BIG day for monkey cage cleaning, because they are fed Indian curry the night before... yeah, don't ask. So, he arrives drunk as fuuuuck to clean some monkey curry shit out of some cages, but instead he sits down and starts telling a story, a story that means not a goddamn thing to the monkeys. See, in case you didn't know, monkeys don't fucking speak a lick of English. I don't care what you say. They just don't. See, look at Mr Binkerdoodles... doesn't he look confused?

Anyway, he is a blah blah blabbing about his dramatic childhood, because you know, his momma didn't let him have the Pac Man lunch box he wanted as a child, and she always made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the mixture that came in a single jar... I mean, yo, how sick is that, pb&j in ONE JAR... I know.. if you have to stop reading to dry heave a bit, I don't blame you. But see, he knew even then, that the secret to a real sandwich was peanut butter and bananas. So, he told these monkeys all about it. They just kept on playing in their curry shit, since they had NO FUCKING IDEA what Bill was *even* talking about. Bill kept on talking until the zoo opened. Turned out, the zoo made more money than ever that day, because hell, people pay big bucks to see some dude talking to monkeys like they'z human or somethin'... oh and to make things more interesting, Bill was naked. So... anyway. Bill kept on talking... but he was talking of the meaning of life, you see. Do any of you know the answer to that question? Of course you don't. Well, Bill, the master of all, he bloody *knew*... fucking peanut butter and banana sandwiches... and he told the monkeys... he said it really quietly, so none of the zoo customers could hear. They were sorely disappointed, for all they heard ol' Bill say was, "...and that's all that means. Now where are my bananas?"

Dreamland: Return of the Jedi (originally created Aug 8, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:20:00.001-07:00

Holy shit, bitches. It has been a while since I have posted any dreams. What can I say? Life took over for a bit. But after Frannyy graciously pointed out that I had dropped the ball on my dream posting, I figured I had better step up my game. So, here are two short dreams I have had in the past few days, one accompanied by an illustration. YES, that is what I said. An illustration. Well, it is partially an illustration, and partially a photoshopped head... oh what the hell, you can plainly see for yourselves what the hell I'm talking about.

Dream One

I was a little bunny, and I was on the run in the streets of Chicago. A little duckie was with me, and a mean old automobile of some sort was trying to run me over. The duckie was determined to keep me from getting killed by the car. So, we were rushing all over town, avoiding the car. Little did we know, we were being followed.

Anyway, we found ourselves over by Navy Pier when finally the car passed us, and we knew we were safe from being run over by it. We went on our merry way, but the things following us were pissed... see, we were being followed by sliced fruit, and that fruit wanted to be my saviors. They were very upset and let down that the duckie was the one who got the job done.

Dream Two

My sister posted a picture on Facebook. It was my face photoshopped onto a picture of Thor on an exercise bike. When I told her about this, she happily tried to recreate it for me.

My sister rocks.

The End of All "That's What She Said" Jokes (created July 20, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:19:00.001-07:00

Kristen called the end of all "That's What She Said" jokes a few nights ago. There will never be a better one.
Scene: Lowell is bitching about plumbing. He says something along the lines of, "I put the coat hanger all the way in, but when I pulled it, nothing came out.
Kristen: That's what she said.
Me: nearly choking to death on my own tongue and spewing beer across the patio.

For Kristen (originally created July 20, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:18:00.000-07:00

I had asked stumblers for suggestions for stories to write...

Kristen has suggested I write what it's like to live here in her home in NashVegas, hanging out with her, Lowell, and the rest of the crowd here, during our transition to our new home, which we will be moving into this fucking Saturday. She said I could use this past weekend as a prime example, which I shall do because this past weekend has, indeed, been something else. So, ok then. This is what I shall do. So, here we go!

There are five of us in this house: Kristen, Lowell, Meg, John, and myself. There is also a sixth person living in the poolhouse, Lucky Doug Summers. So, it is kind of crowded here, but we all get along well. My daughter is also here for two weeks, but the two weeks is more than half over. Four of us share a single bathroom. But so far there haven't been any mishaps. ;)

So anyway, here is what it is like to hang here on the weekend. This past Friday night, we went to Jimbo's. This is a regular Friday thing; Jimbo has pickin' parties. I have been there three times so far, but this past Friday was John's first time. Basically a group of super talented musicians sit around and play mind blowing, amazing music for us. I sat there and thought about how people pay to see bands that aren't nearly as good as these guys, yet here we are listening to them in this intimate setting, for free. It is a beautiful thing. There is no better way I can think of to spend a Friday night. Anyway, afterwards, we went walking through the neighborhood in the rain to find the place where Kristen used to live. Later I smoked two cigarettes. This was a bad, bad thing.

Anyway, Saturday was the pool party. Around 20ish people showed up, and we drank merrily, and music was played. I somehow missed the cover of Rebecca Black's Friday, and I am terribly bummed. Anyway, it was great fun, full of great people and food and not so great beer.

Sunday was a much more intimate affair. John made his "life-changing tacos" (damn fucking right) for a small group of seven. We sat on the patio, drank more not-so-great beer, and talked about music, life, whatever. Then, we went skinny dipping. No, not all of us, but some of us did. ;)

So that is the summarized, G-rated version of this weekend, in a nutshell. Now, for what the people are like that I see the most. Of course, we shall start with the queen herself, Kristen. She is every bit as awesome as you think she is. She really does a lot to help others. I would not be where I am right now if it weren't for her. Don't expect her to be passive aggressive about shit though. If she has something to tell you, she will fucking tell you! I'm glad for that. She is a bit quieter than I expected... when sober. ;) But aren't we all?
Lowell works from home, so I see him the most. What an eccentric character! I have never met anyone with a personality like his. He likes to feed me lines of BS and see if I will believe it. (I often do... ) He is funny, sarcastic, and a huge smart ass.
Meg is super cool and easy to talk to. She also takes some fucking amazing pictures. Oh, and I failed to mention that everyone can cook! All these bitches...
Lucky Doug. What a kind and wonderful soul. I visit him every day, and we talk about drama and such. He is a giant bear of a guy with the voice of an angel. It is a huge shame he isn't rich and famous, because he is truly a fantastic singer and songwriter. In fact, Lowell is planning on making a documentary about Doug. More info on that to come, I'm sure. Anyway, I love him dearly and wish only the very best for him.
And finally, John. We talked for months online before we got to this point. I can tell that boy anything and know that he will keep his mouth shut. I can talk to him about things I wouldn't talk to *anyone* about, or things I might be embarrassed to tell anyone. He's quirky, as am I and the rest of the world, but I can dig it. ;) I have never in my whole life met anyone with such determination and drive as he has. (He found a great job, and we landed an awesome place to live, all less than two weeks after we got here!) I am so very grateful to know him. He changed my life. No matter what, he will always be one of my dearest friends. (And be aware he has talked me into approximately 20 edits of this post, as he is now my self-appointed proofreader.)

For Joost (originally created July 19, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:15:00.000-07:00

I asked on my SU blog for suggestions for some stories to write...

I haven't gotten as many suggestions as I got last time we played this game, but things have changed a lot... but the one I choose to write first will be Joost's suggestion, which was to write a bit about my past, since I have spent much of my time writing about the future. Perhaps events that led me to the road I am traveling, or people who have inspired me to do what I have done to get here. I am down with that. (Or maybe even just a random event or two, for shits and giggles.) Just a bit of background for you guys... Just pardon how random it is.

Stumblecon was the big deciding event that led me to decide to move here [to Nashville]. If I hadn't come, I have no idea what my situation would be. Kristen and Lowell have been so great to me, allowing John and me to stay with them until we get a place. which looks like is happening right bloody now... we will find out tomorrow if we got the place we want a few miles from here. (We got the place we wanted!!)

I was hit by a car when I was 13. I was standing at the bus stop with all the other kids, and when the bus came we all started crossing the road. A car came along, and the driver decided not to stop. He hit me. It wasn't a huge deal, but I did roll over the hood of the car. I landed on my feet and leaned into his window and called the driver a dick. Then I got on the bus. Everyone was staring and asking if I was ok. I was fine, and oddly didn't think a whole lot of the event.

I started smoking when I was 11, and I quit when I was 33. Granted, I did have a couple slip ups here recently, but I can let those go. I am done smoking. Now, if only everyone else was! :p

I threw up after riding a ferris wheel once.

I met almost all of my closest friends on the internet. Here on SU, as a matter of fact.

The first person I met here was a dude named FireFromTheGods. He was a sweet guy who showed me there was a really cool social network here, rather than just a cool way to find websites. I decided to try to contact some people here, so I started visiting, subscribing to, and reviewing stumblers. I met the stumbler formerly known as what-power first, who I still speak with and care a lot about, then I met Bumapples, who is also gone... Then I got a negative review from Yamamushi, which apparently was something to wear like a badge of honor back in those days (2008). Patoloco introduced himself, and after that, I met tons of other awesome people I can't live without.

Divorce has done so much for my self esteem. I now know it was the second best thing that ever happened to me. In a way, I was reborn.

I was 8 years old when I ran into the side of my neighbor's house with my face.

I was 27 (approximately) when I flattened my tires and wheels without knowing how I did it.

I was nearly attacked by a St Bernard when I was very young. I don't remember it. I was 5 when my leg was mauled by a cat, and I was 13 when the same leg was mauled by some dildo's huge black dog. I was scared of dogs for about 17 years after that, but I got over it a couple years ago.

When I was 23 I was driving home late one night, and decided to take a different exit than the one I usually took. When I drove past the exit I usually took, I saw a car driving up the ramp going the wrong direction. If I had taken that exit, I would have hit that guy head-on.

And the last thing I will say, I am glad things have gone the way they have so far. I am having such a great time, and I am eternally grateful to have this opportunity to start over. Basically I have a completely new life, with my wonderful daughter as the only thing that hasn't changed. I feel... happy. My never-ending gratitude goes out to Kristen, Lowell, and especially John. What a huge part of my life these guys are. :)

Dreamland Part Twat (originally created May 26, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:11:00.001-07:00

The dreams... they are so vivid lately. Is it the long string of sobriety? (a whole week!) Or is it the odd sleeping schedule that keeps me up till 5 am every morning? I don't know, but seriously, what the hell, man?

First, I was at the grocery store. There were huge displays of apples everywhere I went, and I knew I wanted to get some, but I decided to wait until I got everything else first. I ran into an old friend of mine I used to work with. and we stood in the bread isle talking for a bit, but then different versions if him started appearing, all different weights. In real life he is kind of stocky, a little on the tall side. These other versions of him ranged from anorexic to morbidly obese on a motorized Rascal. (motorized Rascal... is that redundant?) I tried to explain to the original friend that all these people were different versions of him, but he blew me off. Finally I dismissed myself and went to get apples. I had this extremely flimsy plastic bag that I put my apples in, but I noticed other people had more heavy duty ziplock kinds, and I wanted one of *those*. So I dumped out my apples and went to find a better bag. I got one, then when I went to get the apples, they were gone. Someone had wiped out all the good apples. Only a few little shitty ones were left. I tasted one, and it was gross. I went around to the other apple displays, and it was the same. The good ones were gone. I kept tasting the different apples, but they all sucked. Finally I found a small display next to some donuts that looked pretty good, but when I picked one up, the underside was completely rotten.

Next, I was in Nashville at night, in my car, which happened to be a white and brown 80s minivan. John was my passenger. We were parked outside of what will soon be my place of employment. It was my first day of work. I was on the phone with Rob Halford. It had something to do with his cable tv, and he was kind of irritated with me. I may have been explaining to him that I had to cut off his service... I don't know. Well, after a bit of time I told him I had to go to work, and he said he would call me later. John got out of the van, and so did I, trying to grab all my stuff, which was WAY to much stuff to be carrying. Then I forgot to put the car in park, or even take the keys out, and the car drove away by itself. It was driving up on the sidewalk and through grass, then went around the corner. Suddenly, I was John, and John was me. But I didn't look like John, because I was motherfucking Tom Hanks, bitches. I, Tom Hanks, ran after the van, all the while thinking, this will be fine, I will catch up to the van. I kept running and running, then found myself in an alley. The alley's dead end was a chain link fence, and John, aka ME, stood on the other side of it. John/me said "oh shit." I turned around in time to see the van come flying at the fence at about 80 mph. It hit the fence, and somehow the fence stopped it. Then John's/my hair caught on fire, and I, Tom Hanks, patted that shit out with my hands THROUGH THE FENCE, because, that's right, I was motherfucking Tom Hanks.

Dreamland Pt 2: Electric Boogaloo (originally created May 19, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:09:00.001-07:00

I have had various sleep ailments lately. These days it is insomnia. So last night I decided, against my better judgment, to take a sleep aid. This is what happened.

I was in a paddywagon with Jefferson Airplane. They were performing snippets of all their hits. Then they were Jefferson Starship, continuing on with their journey through time. Grace Slick was only there for two songs though, which really made the whole experience less interesting. It wasn't even that interesting to begin with, being that I am not a big fan of theirs or anything...

Next, I was in the kitchen trying to make Banh Mi sandwiches. John had finally moved here, but we were in my parents' house. (God forbid, I would rather step into traffic.) I got all the ingredients out, but I was distracted by a phone call and had no idea what should go where. I poured milk into two bowls, added vinegar to one of them, and started gargling with it. While I had my back turned, John sneaked about eight shredded carrots into the other bowl, and I thought, 'wow, he did all the work for me.' Then I got scared because all the seasoning I had was my overly fennelled five-spice powder. I didn't want my chicken to taste like licorice, but I knew John *must* have a spice collection in his suitcase...

Then I was at Kristen's place, which was a studio apartment with cardboard boxes overflowing with clothes stacked to the ceiling instead of walls. I was about to leave and go home, but Kristen got an odd phone call from my former sister in law saying her ex husband was going to kill everyone. Everyone! Kristen, being a doctor, was needed on the scene asap! I figured I had better get out of there quick. I was barefoot, but I felt like there was no time to put on socks. So I grabbed these huge wooden shoes that were about the size and shape of shoeboxes and tried to put them on, but the holes to put my feet in were apparently the kind that only feet with socks can enter. Nothing I did made those sexy shoes fit. So I threw them down and went to put on socks, but they were all dirty, and none of them matched. I had finally decided to put on one black one and one white one with a green stripe, but then I couldn't find the shoes. I was afraid to drive home without shoes on.

Fin

213 (originally created May 24, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:08:00.001-07:00

That was Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment number. I have known that for a great many years, and ever since acquiring that information, I see that number everywhere. If it is on a license plate, I will notice. If it is in someone's phone number, address, birthday, whatever, I will notice. I see it all the time. Just like today, I see it in my stats. Once I see that number, it is my first thought. Dahmer's apartment. Something must be wrong with me, right?

Primitive instinct a passion for flesh
Primal feeding on the multitudes of death
Sadistic acts a love so true
Absorbingly masticating a part of you

Disclaimer: Please be aware I do not have an obsession with Jeffrey Dahmer.

Shipping Confirmation is Full of Win (originally created April 29, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:03:00.001-07:00

So, I ordered a cd the other day, Chris Ross' debut, The Steady Stumble. I ordered the cd from CdBaby.com. Yesterday, I received confirmation the disc had shipped. It was. by far, the best shipping confirmation I ever received:

Your CD has been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.
A team of 50 employees inspected your CD and polished it to make sure it was in the best possible condition before mailing.
Our world-renowned packing specialist lit a local artisan candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CD into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy.
We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved "Bon Voyage!" to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, April 28, 2011.
We hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. In commemoration, we have placed your picture on our wall as "Customer of the Year." We're all exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Sigh...
We miss you already. We'll be right here at http://cdbaby.com/, patiently awaiting your return.

When I Sleep, Monsters Try to Get Me (originally created April 19, 2011)

2011-09-22T16:01:00.001-07:00

For my entire life, I have had a sleep disorder called hypnagogia. (AKA hypnogogia, but whatever.) Basically, when I try to fall asleep, I fall into a state where I am still aware of my surroundings, but I become paralyzed. (I didn't even know there was a name for this until a certain Narcoleptic complaining stumbler talked about having the same affliction.) I also have hypnopomic sleep paralysis, which is when I wake up into that state. This is typically much worse. Whatever I am dreaming about before I wake in that state comes into the room with me. It is really disturbing. Once I was having an erotic dream and woke up to find myself being raped. I was on my back in the bed, and someone had my arms pinned down and was forcing himself on me. I struggled to move but I couldn't. At the time, even though I had experienced sleep paralysis all my life, I thought someone was seriously in the room with me. I was finally able to buck the guy off, and when I turned on the light to see who it was, no one was there. It was a truly terrifying moment. I have also woken up paralyzed and saw a friend of mine standing over my bed, and he said he was going to "teach me a lesson" of some sort. He walked around the bed, and I could see and hear every move he made. When he got to the other side, I was able to jerk out of the state and find no one was there. Another time I was in my own room and woke up to find someone was sawing my leg off. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a strange, almost operatic singing sound. (I acquired the nickname King Diamond after that happened.)

The reason I bring this up is because it has happened to me every night for the past eight nights straight. Last night as I tried to fall asleep, I fell into a hypnagogic paralysis and saw my bedroom door open. I tried to call out but all I could do was make this raspy noise. I always feel that if I don't break out of the state as soon as possible, I will surely die. I have read that sometimes these experiences can be really nice, but I have only had that happen once. Well, it wasn't necessarily nice, but it wasn't terrifying. I was asleep in my living room floor one night when I was a teenager and awoke to a guy sitting in the living room wearing a toga. He talked to me about something I no longer remember, but he was super nice and friendly... When I woke up I actually tried to fall back into the state so he could talk to me more. Didn't happen though. Any other time I fall into the state over and over again. It is usually a minimum of three times in a row when it happens.

Do any of you have this same thing happen to you? How do you handle it? I'm not sure why it is happening to me so often lately. Before it only happened once every few months. Eight nights in a row? It is a bit excessive, and it makes me dread going to sleep. I have stayed up insanely late because of avoiding these situations. This could be feeding the fire, to use a tired cliche, but I really don't know what else to do at this point. Advice? Anyone?

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes... (originally created April 10, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:59:00.001-07:00

Most of you know I have been through some horribly difficult experiences in the past few months. It seems like so much time has gone by. I can hardly believe my life was pulled out from under me only 4 1/2 months ago. But you know something? I don't look at it like that anymore. Instead, I feel like a huge wall was in the way, and it was finally torn down so I can move forward with my life. I was stuck in the same place for so long, I had no idea what was out there. I had no clue I could be so much happier than I was. I thought I was stuck, where I would be until death. And the sad thing is, I was satisfied with that. I thought I was where I was supposed to be, and I accepted it. I accepted a life of dull mediocrity and monotony. I thought it was normal to struggle day in and day out. I had settled for less, and I didn't even know it.

Now I have been given a second chance at living. I can start completely over, and I have. I am not exactly where I want to be yet, but I am close. All that is between me and the new life is time. I have said what I am about to say before, but I am going to say it again. I don't know where I would be if it weren't for Stumbleupon! I have met so many fantastic people here, but there are a few in particular who, if not for them, I would still be in limbo right now. One of these people especially has truly changed my life. He inspired me to quit smoking, to change my spending habits, to have goals and aspirations... to LIVE. I have told him these things, but I don't know if he really knows just how much he has done for me. He knows when to offer advice, and he knows when to listen and not say a thing. And believe me, I have the gift of rambling. But he always hears me out. I owe this guy so much, and I plan on repaying.

But not only these people, but people I don't even know at all show up in my inbox and offer support. It really makes me feel good when I have an encouraging message from someone who doesn't know me from a random brick. I want those people to know how much I appreciate you all. You have all made this transition so much easier for me, when I thought I might not even make it through it all. Turns out, I got over it much faster than I thought I would, because of all the awesome support.

Thank you.

Especially you.

A Resurrected Stumbler Review (originally created for Bumapples, April 11, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

(based on a dream I had about Sam...)

Look for Sam in the abandoned train yard. He wears an Al Qaeda robe, which conceals his arsenal of fully automatic weapons. The hood on his robe doesn't conceal the wire rimmed Top Gun sunglasses, and how they gleam in the moonlight. He will remain still, standing in the gravel, with his hands in his pockets. The wind blows gently, making the bottom of the robe flutter around his knees, thus exposing the AK-47s strapped to his thighs with leather garters. You patiently wait for him to speak. Is this the prophet of doom? Does he have an important message? Will he let you live, now that you have seen his face? Is he wearing leather slippers?

He does not speak, therefore you are forced to turn your back and walk away from him. Will you risk being shot in the back? Or surprise anal penetration? Fear the latter, my friends, because in case you didn't know...

Sam Buttfucks All.

Herion Ain't for Sissies (originally created March 19, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:55:00.000-07:00

Too personal?No. Because the only people who will read this are likely my friends.

Fucking heroin. How often to people use it and escape unscathed? Not often enough. I don't have any hard evidence to support this, just my observations. I know one person who has gotten involved with it and made it. I know one other who didn't.

It only takes one time, my friends. Ask her, and she would tell you...

Goodbye Anna.
July 9, 1986 - March 17, 2011

Batteries NOT Included (originally created Feb 21, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:32:00.001-07:00

You guys know me well enough to know that I have some fucked up dreams. You also know I like to post said dreams. Well I JUST woke up from one about 10 minutes ago that disturbed me on a couple different levels. (It must have been the Banh Mi I made yesterday... it went straight to my head.)

I was at a party. I have no idea where, or who any of the people were. All I know is that I had a baby with me. This baby was mine and his. Holy hell, it was the cutest baby I ever did see in my life. A girl, with hardly any hair, about six months old, wearing on of those sets of jammies with feet, which were mint green in color. I remember exactly how she felt when I held her, her weight, temperature, it was fucked UP. (Ladies, you know how it is when you have a baby dream. They can be pretty damned jarring.)

So, I am walking around this house, mingling with party people, and playing with this baby, whose name I remember was "Mia." We were making faces at each other and laughing. At one point I had to use the bathroom, so I took her in there with me and laid her on her belly across the toilet tank. When I did, she stopped moving totally. She was still blinking, but no other movement. I got freaked out, but then I realized, her batteries must have come out. I picked her up and saw that was exactly what happened. One of her four AA batteries was in the floor behind the toilet. I grabbed it up and popped it back in. (That's what she said.)

Next thing I knew, I was in the passenger seat of a car in the parking lot of a convenience store. John was supposed to be the driver, but he was inside the store. Two girls were in the back seat. I have no idea who they were, but one of them was holding the baby. It hit me that I must have left her on the toilet tank. I reached for her, and she smiled this cute smile and reached back. I held her in my lap and she made this face... I have this picture of John where he is smiling real big and his eyebrows are up. This baby made that face, and she even had tiny little teeth that looked like John's. When she made the face, we all awwwwed and I said, "she looks just like her daddy." I woke up at that moment and felt weird as hell.

Ladies, why is it that when we have dreams about having babies, they seem so bloody real? Of course, the batteries made it less so, but still. It was the oddest thing. How do our brains create these things we have never seen? It's like my brain played GOD. My brain is a Creator. My brain needs to know I don't want it to create babies! Create something fun and useful, like a bag of weed, or a liter of Knob Creek.

StumbleCon, The First Series (originally created Feb 15, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:28:00.001-07:00

Were you there? If so, then you already know how awesome it was. If you weren't, damn that sucks. But a whole shit-ton of pictures have been taken... so many that we often took pictures of each other at the same time.

There was much tit grabbing, which was naturally the reason I was so excited about going.

MizRed was there. She smoked with us. I never use the word "epic," but that was fucking epic.

Lebrewski made toes!

Two for one beer (and many other treasured experiences) with this guy...

StumbleCon. It's serious business. More to come!

The Only Glitter gif You Will EVER See on These Pages (originally created Feb 15, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:27:00.000-07:00

Holy shit. Sparklebean, Apocowarg, and Me. A FUCKING GLITTER GIF. I can die happy now!!

StumbleCon Series 2 (originally created Feb 16, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:24:00.001-07:00

Ah Stumblecon. Now an annual event! Maybe each year Ninepoundhammer will have a new Jones soda label. We can continue to photograph him holding the previous one. Like this.

Photobombing was big at the 'con. Sometimes the bombings were intended and amazing...

... and sometimes we don't find out about it until after. This is the worlds BEST photobomb. Lebrewski FTW.

When I buy birthday presents for my friends, especially someone like Kristen, I always go the sentimental route.

The party didn't really begin until we put on the sassy glasses.

When Deth pressed on Apocowarg's brain hole, he got all retarded on us. Sparklebean had to sit on him to keep him under control.

We don't play. One last series to come... in time!

StumbleCon Series 3 (originally created Feb 18, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

We all hated to see Stumblecon come to an end. Tha-b-dog played us a sad tune while we cried incessantly.

But not before ninepoundhammer gave us all mouthgasms... again... with his tantalizing Bahn Mi.

I will miss spending time with my long lost little sis.

The penis pinata's life ended badly.

Bobby had to get one last boob grab.

You know the party is coming to a close when Jennie starts passing out on tha-b-dog.

After all was said and done, it was the best party ever, and the best five days of my life. So grand, they were, that I have decided to move there. Life is good. I am sorry for those of you who couldn't make it... I assure you, all of you were in our thoughts.

Our epic bosoms bid you adieu.

Random Penetration (originally created Jan 24, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:15:00.001-07:00

Before I left my previous state of residence, you may know I was working for the Radiology department at the local hospital. I was a file room secretary, so I dealt with people's x-rays pretty constantly. I must admit, I loved that job. LOVED it. I worked with amazing people, the location was less than two blocks from my house, and I was out of retail!

One of the most interesting and entertaining parts of that job was printing off x-rays for emergency room patients. Before I got this job, I never thought about the very unusual things people will do to themselves to get medical attention, or the things people will stick in their bums. Such as:

Please note, no names are being used, this could be anyone.

1. One woman once smeared her own feces into her PICC line.
2. A guy in the jail came in one day because he had eaten a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a deodorant cap, and a comb. Four days later he was back because he had swallowed half of a 12 square inch floor tile.
3. A guy had a dildo stuck in his ass that was pointing the wrong direction. His explanation? He fell on it.
4. The girl who swallowed needles. On purpose.
5. This isn't necessarily the best saved for last, because plenty more happened. But this is one I have visual evidence for. I missed work on the day the guy came in with the electric toothbrush stuck in his ass. Someone sent this to my phone.

Facebook Horrors!! (originally created Jan 18, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:11:00.000-07:00

Maybe you guys remember this... and maybe you don't. Either way, it is a trailer for a fake horror movie with some Facebook folks in it. Check it out.

Dreamland (originally created Jan 19, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:08:00.001-07:00

I have some strange dreams. Often times, stumblers are involved. Well, last night was no exception. So, in this dream, I live in a house with panelling walls all over the entire inside. So, the inside is dark brown. I am having a party for my birthday and stumblers are coming, but nothing like Stumblecon, oh no. Anyway. People start arriving, and I don't remember who all was there, but I remember a select few: Kris, who was wearing a pink sweater, and her boobs felt like they were made of balloons filled with gelatin (damn right I felt her up). Shaun, who almost always shows up in SU dreams was there, and he was wearing a turquoise, too-tight polo shirt, had NO visible tattoos, and had a dark tan. (So the age old question has been answered. We DO dream in color.) Heather was there in a very fluffy white sweater. And, finally, John was there in a black bowler hat. (I must admit this is the first dream I can remember that I took note of people's clothing.)

So the only person I specifically remember seeing arriving was Shaun. I remember thinking he was shorter than I thought he would be, like five foot three. I also remember wondering if the tan was covering his tattoos, or if he actually had them removed. Then, I remember a bunch of us piled in a bed together, but the bed was a backseat of a car (still in the house though, you know how dreams are). The only person I remember specifically being in the bed is Heather, but there was at least seven of us. No one was talking. Kristen hadn't arrived yet, but when she did, I was going to make cookies. (damn I really know how to party!) I heard commotion in the kitchen so I got out of bed to look... it was Kristen making cookies with her epic boobs and pink sweater on. I told her I didn't expect her to do that, but she glared at me. She refused to speak! (maybe because I don't know what she sounds like?) I know I grabbed her boobs at some point, but I don't remember when...Then, things get REALLY interesting. We go on a hayride, yo. That's right, a hayride! We are piled onto this trailer waiting for the hayride to take off, when I hear music coming from the house. I recognized it as a Will Whitmore song. I LOVE him, and John is a fan too. I was sitting across from him in his bowler hat, and I said "hey! Listen to what's playing!" Well, he looked at me, and he wasn't John, he was Will Whitmore, and he rolled his eyes like, 'no shit.'

The hayride never left.

The Motorcycle Death Trap (originally created Jan 14, 2011)

2011-09-22T15:05:00.001-07:00

I don't like motorcycles. I lost a good friend to a motorcycle accident. Some of you may remember when I wrote about that. (June of 09) I cannot describe to you what that did to me. The grisly details were later shared with me, which was some information I would have preferred to never EVER have received. And see, thing is, he wasn't driving like a maniac. He had just gotten onto the freeway, and had perhaps just gotten over to the passing lane when he lost control. AND, since the state of GA found it necessary to remove all the guardrails on that interstate and replace them with steel cables, he was literally torn to pieces. The impact threw him onto the overpass above the crash site.

So I wonder, do these FUCKERS ever think about shit like THAT when they go flying at 150 mph down the road? Do they ever think of the people driving the cars that they squeeze between just for the fucking rush? What if one of those drivers has a heart attack because he wasn't expecting to see some FUCKING EGOTISTICAL JACKASS that close to his window, speeding by like a goddamned demon? Perhaps the driver reflexively jerks his wheel away from the idiot, causing loss of control? Does any of this matter? Hell no. Its all about having fun. "Yee haw! Did you see how fast I was going? I am such a rebel! Don't you envy me?!" We will all be envying you in your casket, dick. We will especially envy you if you put someone else in a casket.

EDIT: I was just reminded of something. Several years back, a super cool guy on a bike was traveling on I-24 here in Chattanooga. A particular stretch of this freeway runs along Missionary Ridge. This stretch of road is steep, narrow, and in dire need of road work. (The state of TN does not give two flying fucks about road conditions.) Many big trucks travel this interstate. One day, this brilliant guy was riding up the "Ridge Cut," as we call it here, and found himself behind two big trucks driving side by side. The genius decides to ride his bike BETWEEN the two big trucks. Needless to say, this guy died. (I am trying to find a link.) The wind circulating between the trailers of these trucks caused the guy to lose control. He bounced like a pinball between them before finally crashing. Damn it people. If it makes you feel like a man to ride a bike, then go for it. But don't act like a moron.

Punkin Seeds, Bitches (originally created Dec 29, 2010)

2011-09-22T15:01:00.000-07:00

Pumpkin seeds can kick absolute ass, but you don't have to go through much trouble. Go ahead and preheat your oven to 400 degrees.

Get you a pumpkin. A big one.
You'll need some unsalted butter.
Mince some garlic. Two cloves ought to do the trick, but use more or less if you want.
Grab your kosher salt.
Get some Cayenne pepper. (you better already have some.)

I suggest using a stick of butter, but it really depends on how many seeds you use. Butter does go a long way. So, slowly melt that butter in a small saucepan. Once it is nicely melted, turn off the heat, but leave the pan on the burner so the butter stays hot. Add your garlic and, oh, a couple pinches of kosher salt. (If you used salted butter, and I hope you didn't because it sucks, do not add salt or you will ruin this shit.)
Now, while that garlic is infusing the butter, dig out the seeds from that pumpkin. Rinse all the glop off of them. Once you are done with that, the butter should be ready to go. Put your seeds in that butter and stir it all up so the butter covers them completely.
Now, get the seeds out and dump them on a shallow baking pan. (If this pan has sides, they better be short, or those seeds just aren't going to come out right.) Do not add excess butter from the pan. You only want the seeds coated, not swimming. Now, get your Cayenne pepper. This stuff will kill you, so be gentle, ok? I can't give you an exact measurement, because I just don't cook like that. But lightly, LIGHTLY sprinkle you some Cayenne over those seeds, then stir them up. You can test the flavor by tasting what is on your spoon you stir those with. You might want a pinch of extra salt, or more pepper.
Now, is your oven ready? It damn well should be, after all that you just did. Ok, your seeds are on the pan, ready to go. (single layer, people.) Put that pan in the oven and give them about 15-20 minutes. It won't take long before you start to smell them. Don't turn them or anything, just leave them the hell alone. After 15 minutes, go test one. If it is still a bit chewy, give it a few more minutes. If its just the way you want it, take those bitches out. They should be brown, crispy, and orgasmically delicious.

Big Fat Cow (originally created Dec 1, 2010)

2011-09-22T14:55:00.001-07:00

Somehow, wish I knew, the seniors got a cow into the school for the "senior prank." A FUCKING COW. It had a cowbell around its neck and everything, from what I have heard. Now, I never actually saw the cow, but I heard it. I was in English class, which was on the second floor, when we all heard the cowbell. At first we all just looked at eachother like, what the hell? Then we didn't hear it for a minute or two. Then, here it came again. This time, with cloppity sounds. We all knew something was up at this point, but no one actually thought there was a COW. Finally, we heard its MOOOOO. Now, let me settle any misconceptions you may have about the pitch of a cow moo. This building was round, and the hallway wound around the whole circle. This moo echoed and reverberated throughout the hallway. It was like surround sound. We shrieked with laughter. The teacher looked out in the hallway, then she closed the door. The look on her face was priceless. Must have been the first time she saw a cow in the hallway. On the second floor even!

I don't know how long the cow was there, and I never found out how they pulled it off. I assume "they" stole the cow from the pasture that was conveniently located behind the building where shop class was held. I have always wondered how they managed to get the thing up the STAIRS without being spotted.

Bathroom Adventures (originally created Nov 26, 2010)

2011-09-22T14:53:00.000-07:00

I got trapped in a bathroom once. Not for 20 days, but a good four hours. I came into work one morning, blah blah like usual. I was there an hour before the store opened, which was also an hour before any other employees arrived. The bathroom was adjacent to the "back room," where all our assorted sized signholders and other various bullshit was kept. Shelves and other obstacles were everywhere and it was hard to move around freely in there. We always had to step around everything. Moving on though...

I went into the bathroom, and when the door shut, I heard something fall behind the door. Well, I went about my business and when I tried to open the door, I couldn't. It would only open about six or eight inches. Just enough for me to stick my face out and see that a four foot plexiglass signholder had fallen from behind the door. It was wedged between the door and the adjoining wall. I didn't have my phone, the doors to the store were locked. I was fucked. I tried standing on the sink and crawling out the top of the door. A file cabinet was next to the door that made squeezing out the door impossible, but I thought MAYBE if I could get on top of that file cabinet, I could get out. (The cabinet was taller than me.)

So yeah, that was not a success. I could have probably managed it, but no way would I have been able to accomplish such a daring stunt without falling down to the floor on my head from six feet up. So, I waited. And waited, and waited. The bathroom had no heat, and it was freezing in there. So, I wrapped up in a giant garbage back to keep warm. (Shut up, I still get shit for that!) It was probably 40F degrees.

Finally, around 12:30, I hear keys in the back room door. I hurried up and took the garbage bag off of me... hell, no one needed to see that! When the bathroom door opened, I saw my boss, my coworker, and two fucking cops. I'm thinking, oh great. Fucking great. This is waaaay more people than I prefered to know about this.

Anyway, I got out, and had to work the rest of the day. Several weeks later I was working on a Friday night. Someone was on the roof of the store and we couldn't get him to come down. I sure as hell wasn't going to climb up there. So I called the cops. Sigh. Well, when I called an officer answered and I told him who and where I was, and what the deal was. He respondd with, "Ooooh, you're the one who got stuck in the bathroom!" and everyone in the background laughed. When they arrived to get the guy off the roof, one climbed up while the other stood with me and told me how the whole department laughed about that for days. I was pissed, but at the same time I found it hilarious.

Pine Breeze (originally created Nov 11, 2010)

2011-09-22T14:48:00.000-07:00

I grew up in Chattanooga, TN. Not a very exciting place to live, but it did have its share of ghost stories, especially surrounding the Civil War. This story, however, has nothing to do with the Civil War. It has to do with the abandoned TB hospital/Insane Asylum in North Chattanooga. It was called Pine Breeze.

The site I linked is likely making the place seem much more barbaric than it actually was, but after visiting the place, I am prepared to believe anything.

In 1993, a group of four of us ventured to Pine Breeze to get high and creeped out. My friends with me were Alex, Alicia, and Jenny. We had been there before, and had ventured inside one of the buildings, but it was an uneventful experience. The driveway up to the asylum branched off the street and went up a steep incline on the side of a big hill. A small mountain, if you will. The driveway was very narrow, and there was no guardrail to protect us as we ascended the steep incline. The ravine to our left continued getting deeper as we kept driving further upward.

Here is an aerial shot of Pine Breeze from sometime before 1968. Wish I could give you more information. Can't find it.

As the road widened, three buildings appeared. They looked like no one had been in them for at least 50 years. If I remember correctly, they were a deep red colored brick. The windows were busted out and the door was gone from one or two of them. The road continued winding up the "mountain." Two more buildings on either side of us looked just as decrepit as the three before. Finally we reached the top, and the ground leveled out. The top of the hill was grassy, except for the dirt road we traveled on to get there. If we continued down the road, we would descend into darkness where one more building stood in deep shadows.

We stopped the car and smoked. The sky was moments from dusk. Alex, the driver of the car, decided he wanted to get out of the car and walk down the street to where the one last building was. I was scared and declined the invitation, but Jenny thought it sounded like a great plan. Alicia stayed behind with me. Alex and Jenny skipped off and left us in the car.

We sat in the car with the windows down and listened to the complete silence. Not a single insect or bird made a sound. I had never heard such utter stillness. As the sun started going down, and our friends had been gone for about 20 or 30 minutes, Alicia and I started getting scared. We wanted to get the car started and drive down to find them. but Alex kept the keys.

We waited for about five more minutes, giggling nervously, before finally deciding to get out of the car and walk. The sun was halfway down. We walked down the surprisingly steep dirt road as it curved down the hill and to the left. As the road leveled out again, the last building appeared. It stood on our left and was nearly entirely surrounded by trees. Trees lined the other side of the road behind us. It was getting dark, but it was still light enough to see around us. Alex and Jenny suddenly burst out of the doorway of the building, from the which the door had been torn off long ago. Alex grabbed my shoulders and gasped, "Amy, you HAVE to see this!" He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the dilapidated, crumbling brick building.

The floor around the perimeter of the large room was littered with debris, such as smashed toilets and sinks, toilet seats, and floor tiles. The floor itself was concrete The debris was cleared so approximately 15 square feet of floor was exposed. On this exposed section was a pentagram, made from broken chunks of concrete and white stone. In the center of it was a scorched spot, where it looked as if something had been burned. The walls were splashed with a red substance that looked like blood. (Not sayin' it was, just telling you what I saw.) Some sections of the wall appeared to have unreadable words written with the stuff.
I don't know how long I stood there, absorbing what I was seeing. I had heard rumors that "Satanists" would come to Pine Breeze and sacrifice goats or whatever the hell, but I never really believed it. This made me rethink the rumors. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I turned and ran in slow motion out of the building where Alicia and Jenny were waiting. I was consumed by terror. The sun was nearly down by this time. What remained of the sun was behind the building, where the last of the light was trapped. We ran.

I have never run so fast in my life. The road was so steep that we nearly felt the urge to use our hands to help us climb faster. A lifetime later we reached the car and sped out of there as quickly as humanly possible.

I never returned to Pine Breeze after that experience. One night in 1995, with a different group of friends, I tried to return, but the place was under demolition. The far end of the road was blocked right before it opened up to the first buildings. We had to go down the long, narrow driveway with the chasm of death next to us... in reverse. In complete darkness. It was a vomit-in-your-lap kind of moment, especially since my friend Lauren and I were riding in the back of a pickup truck.

The First 'Real' Post

2011-09-21T13:32:00.000-07:00

I might as well start somewhere, right?

So, here I am, still groveling and stomping my feet over the loss of the SU community. In all honestly, I got what I wanted out of it. I got friends I cannot live without, a pretty kick-ass manfriend in the house who can cook like God, and a brand new life in a brand new city. I would have none of these things without SU, so why should I be bitching, eh? I should be happy for what I have...

What bothers me the most is how the people who run that joint don't seem to understand what they are doing, and the impact this is going to have. So many relationships started there because of the blogs. It is the personality, the individuality of each person that got the attention of others, made them want to stop and say, "hey, that is some pretty cool shit you have going on there." Or, "hey, I see you have an irrational fear of something silly. I have that same fear." (This would be an actual event that occurred just a few days ago when I saw a stumbler whom I had never spoken to before shared a fear of mine.) But now SU wants to take the blogs away. Who needs blogs when we can have mindless thumb whores with no concept of the English (or any) language discovering all the travel sites imaginable? I WANT TO GO TO THE BAHAMAS FOR CHEAP, DAMMIT! AND INCREASE MY (nonexistent) PENIS SIZE TOO! TEACH ME ALL THE SEO SECRETS I CAN HANDLE!

Five years I was there. It started as an add-on for Firefox, and became a major part of my life. I met my best friends there. Everyone I see now... they were from SU or were met through those people. It isn't fair to take those opportunities away from others. It just isn't. We veterans can rebuild and move our blogs elsewhere. We still have each other. But the people who join in the future will never know of the joys SU provided for the rest of us. That is a terribly sad thought.

So, here is a unicorn to to brighten our day. Then, and only then, will this feel like home to me.

Where the Retarded Stuff is Posted

2011-09-20T22:40:00.000-07:00

Word up, my homies. If you want to know where I will post my stupid pics and such, well, go to my despised tumblr page, Vengeful Atrocities. That's all I have to say for now. Suck it.