A week or so I ago I went through some old photographs at my moms. She wanted to get rid of them, but before she did she felt my sister and I should go through them and decide if we wanted any of them. They are photographs of my first dads side of the family. I'm done with calling him the sperm donor. I'm past that and frankly I am far too mature to hold a grudge longer than 40 something years. Everyone makes mistakes, granted some bigger mistakes than others, but I'm just passing through like everyone else, so who am I to judge.
Anyway ... saw some pictures of my first dad when he was a boy and a man and actually enjoyed seeing them. Didn't think another thing about it until I was sitting on my porch alone, with a drink in my hand and an old friend came on my earphones. Pearl Jam ... song Release ... Album Ten. I cried for the first time about my dad in a very, very long time. I have actually been described as stoic and that's okay, but it felt good to let go. I listened to it over and over and over, can't say how many times ... and I held that drink in my hand thinking maybe, you know just maybe I am not as different than him as I hoped to be. And is that a bad thing?
Some say we will meet again one day, maybe sooner than later, I can only keep faith that that is true. That I will have my time to ask my questions and he will want to answer. In the meantime, I'll ride the wave where it takes me.
I will post a link at the end for you to hear the song if you wish. I think it applies to many people in my position, but also folks that may just miss their dads.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EpkYIy6UhI4
Friday, August 16, 2013
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Topsy Turvy
Topsy Turvy has been "turning the world of gardening upside down for years now", but I have news for them, it's gone next level folks.
I live in the mountains of Virginia. It's beautiful here and I can imagine the soil could turn a rock into a rose bush if you left it long enough. Topsy Turvy most likely doesn't have this area targeted for advertisement. But I'm thinking in light of the story I'm about to tell you they are sitting in sales meetings right now going, "There's been a spike in sales in Abingdon, VA. Somebody get down there and see what's going on". Save your money Topsy Turvy I have an explanation.
I have a pretty big piece of property and the back of it goes straight up, as mountains do, and you can't see the other side from the house. Neighbors only on one side and they are wonderful. Older couple, sweet, helpful, no trouble. They have a grandson that comes to visit, he appears to be about 18 or 19. Rides his Grandpa's golf cart around and comes through our property on a regular basis. One day John comes in and says, "That kid's sitting on the golf cart at the back of our property. He's been back there about a half and hour". I reply, "He's probably smoking a joint". We walk up that way and he takes off. We have a good chuckle.
A couple weeks later we're cruising around our property and John looks over at a huge maple we've got and says, "What the fuck is that"? "Oh, sweetie, that's just a Topsy Turvy". Again he says, "What the fuck is that"? I say, "Well it's a tomato planter that works in a simple yet ingenious way. As the sun warms the plant like a greenhouse, the root system ... ummmmm ... WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT"?
Out of the bottom of it is a very nicely blossoming, fully formed, thriving marijuana plant. I yell at John, "Oh, hell no. If anyone's gonna be growing weed back here it's going to be me". Then I made a face that expressed my feelings of ... well, I mean, if I actually was going to grow weed, which I'm not, but if I was ... you get the idea.
I yank it down and pull the plant out. I begin marching across our property to the neighbors house with my chest puffed out as if I was on a mission to save the world, talking out loud about how unacceptable it is and how offended and disgusted I am. I authoritatively knock on the door and then realize I am holding a TOPSY TURVY in one hand and a POT PLANT in the other. All that comes to my mind to say at that moment is, "Seriously? Not cool"! Brilliant. I sound as dumb as their grandson.
We talk for a few minutes. I tell her how pissed I am, how I have a 13 year old next door who I don't want seeing this and how I'm not planning on spending one minute in the big house for a pot farm her grandson is starting on my property. G's up Ho's down bitches! She starts crying and the next thing you know I'm apologizing and telling her I'll fix it and hang it back up. He should have a good crop in no time.
I tell her how it's going to be okay and how at his age I was a complete spectacle and not to worry, he'll get his shit together sooner or later. I walked back to my house and over to my trash can and, to be honest, had mixed emotions as I was throwing out this ravishing plant, but I am a grown up and well ... I did the right thing.
What was I really pissed about? Well, talk about balls. This kids growing pot plants on my property and I never even met him. Are all kids this fucktarded? Who Does That?!
I live in the mountains of Virginia. It's beautiful here and I can imagine the soil could turn a rock into a rose bush if you left it long enough. Topsy Turvy most likely doesn't have this area targeted for advertisement. But I'm thinking in light of the story I'm about to tell you they are sitting in sales meetings right now going, "There's been a spike in sales in Abingdon, VA. Somebody get down there and see what's going on". Save your money Topsy Turvy I have an explanation.
I have a pretty big piece of property and the back of it goes straight up, as mountains do, and you can't see the other side from the house. Neighbors only on one side and they are wonderful. Older couple, sweet, helpful, no trouble. They have a grandson that comes to visit, he appears to be about 18 or 19. Rides his Grandpa's golf cart around and comes through our property on a regular basis. One day John comes in and says, "That kid's sitting on the golf cart at the back of our property. He's been back there about a half and hour". I reply, "He's probably smoking a joint". We walk up that way and he takes off. We have a good chuckle.
A couple weeks later we're cruising around our property and John looks over at a huge maple we've got and says, "What the fuck is that"? "Oh, sweetie, that's just a Topsy Turvy". Again he says, "What the fuck is that"? I say, "Well it's a tomato planter that works in a simple yet ingenious way. As the sun warms the plant like a greenhouse, the root system ... ummmmm ... WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT"?
Out of the bottom of it is a very nicely blossoming, fully formed, thriving marijuana plant. I yell at John, "Oh, hell no. If anyone's gonna be growing weed back here it's going to be me". Then I made a face that expressed my feelings of ... well, I mean, if I actually was going to grow weed, which I'm not, but if I was ... you get the idea.
I yank it down and pull the plant out. I begin marching across our property to the neighbors house with my chest puffed out as if I was on a mission to save the world, talking out loud about how unacceptable it is and how offended and disgusted I am. I authoritatively knock on the door and then realize I am holding a TOPSY TURVY in one hand and a POT PLANT in the other. All that comes to my mind to say at that moment is, "Seriously? Not cool"! Brilliant. I sound as dumb as their grandson.
We talk for a few minutes. I tell her how pissed I am, how I have a 13 year old next door who I don't want seeing this and how I'm not planning on spending one minute in the big house for a pot farm her grandson is starting on my property. G's up Ho's down bitches! She starts crying and the next thing you know I'm apologizing and telling her I'll fix it and hang it back up. He should have a good crop in no time.
I tell her how it's going to be okay and how at his age I was a complete spectacle and not to worry, he'll get his shit together sooner or later. I walked back to my house and over to my trash can and, to be honest, had mixed emotions as I was throwing out this ravishing plant, but I am a grown up and well ... I did the right thing.
What was I really pissed about? Well, talk about balls. This kids growing pot plants on my property and I never even met him. Are all kids this fucktarded? Who Does That?!
Friday, October 5, 2012
Bathroom Photos
Here's the deal people, STOP taking pictures of yourself in the bathroom, It's just gross. What is it with people doing that? Stop it! I want to see that about as much as I want to see photos of moose on alpaca porn! Okay, I do want to see that, but not the bathroom stuff.
It's not that I don't like that same photo of you, looking the exact same way at the mirror, with your hair the exact same way and just wearing a different outfit, I do. I love them. But I can't stop zooming in and analyzing the disturbing uncleanliness that appears peripherally in each of these photos. "Is that a tampon wrapper on the floor? Oh hell no!"
Various things in the shot ... Make-up caked on the counter, condom wrappers, glasses of milk turning into yogurt, cocaine. Stop it! Seriously, go into a room that's clean for crying out loud. You kind of lose yourself in the photo when just behind you is your cat taking a shit in the litter box.
I do understand how it all began. People needed to find a mirror to take that photo for their dating/fetish site profile and needed the camera or flash to cover up their face. As if that would stop anyone from identifying you with the tattoo of your own last name across your chest. Porn profile shot ... FAIL! "Is that my husband Jim"? You really can't ask him cause what would you say,
"Are you "Fuzzy Shoulders" on Housewives looking for some Stanky on their Down Low.com"? And don't look it up folks, it's not a real site. Not yet anyway. Should I copy write that? I know my audience.
And you really can't casually request to your friend or significant other, "Hey... yeah ...ummm ... mind taking a photo of me stripped down to this edible underwear with this bondage mask on my face? Oh ... and see if you can hold the chain on this leash while you take it. Thanks. I mean ... just for my facebook cover photo".
I think that makes my point. And please dear god, for all that is good in the world, flush the fucking toilet before you take the picture. Seriously? Who Does That?!.
It's not that I don't like that same photo of you, looking the exact same way at the mirror, with your hair the exact same way and just wearing a different outfit, I do. I love them. But I can't stop zooming in and analyzing the disturbing uncleanliness that appears peripherally in each of these photos. "Is that a tampon wrapper on the floor? Oh hell no!"
Various things in the shot ... Make-up caked on the counter, condom wrappers, glasses of milk turning into yogurt, cocaine. Stop it! Seriously, go into a room that's clean for crying out loud. You kind of lose yourself in the photo when just behind you is your cat taking a shit in the litter box.
I do understand how it all began. People needed to find a mirror to take that photo for their dating/fetish site profile and needed the camera or flash to cover up their face. As if that would stop anyone from identifying you with the tattoo of your own last name across your chest. Porn profile shot ... FAIL! "Is that my husband Jim"? You really can't ask him cause what would you say,
"Are you "Fuzzy Shoulders" on Housewives looking for some Stanky on their Down Low.com"? And don't look it up folks, it's not a real site. Not yet anyway. Should I copy write that? I know my audience.
And you really can't casually request to your friend or significant other, "Hey... yeah ...ummm ... mind taking a photo of me stripped down to this edible underwear with this bondage mask on my face? Oh ... and see if you can hold the chain on this leash while you take it. Thanks. I mean ... just for my facebook cover photo".
I think that makes my point. And please dear god, for all that is good in the world, flush the fucking toilet before you take the picture. Seriously? Who Does That?!.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
I'm thinking I don't like Neighbors
I have since moved again, but this was an old post I liked.
We moved into what I would thought was a great little neighborhood. I have decided neighborhoods breed contempt. After living in the middle of nowhere and enjoying being loud as I wanted when I wanted, letting my kids run around naked while they were being potty trained and playing pool with my friends after midnight ... gasp ... I realize that with all the added benefits of being in a city with more than 10,000 people in it there are a few setbacks that make moving to the Love Canal more appealing than a condo in Dubai.
I have decided people with no sense of humor piss me off. I just want to punch them in their frowny faces. Which is not funny, but does make me laugh. My kids decide that it's spring break and by god boredom is going to force them to participate in a lot of nonsense, but ding dong ditching is funny and I'd rather they do that then spray paint the side of the elementary school.
They are taping themselves recreating a gag they saw on youtube with an invisible rope that they pretend to put across the road and screw with the people trying to enter our neighborhood. Then they roll on the grass laughing their asses off high fiving each other about how clever they are. I LOVE it.
So... for the most part people are laughing, commenting "old joke boys" and one lady that was strolling with her head phones on actually jumped over the invisible rope and kept walking. Classic. These people know that they are living in a neighborhood where 11 and 12 year old boys are playing harmless pranks instead of snorting heroin and screwing the babysitter. And if you don't think that's happening I suggest you get your dumb ass up from your desk on your lunch hour and check on the kids you left at home. That being said don't start whining to me about having a career doesn't make you a bad parent. Right, but if you think your little angels are not getting into trouble when you're gone you are fooling yourself all the way to the abortion clinic.
Back to moron's with no sense of humor. We live in the greatest country on the planet, medical technology is on a path to keep us alive well into our 200th birthdays and Hitler and Stallin are in hell now fighting over who's gonna make Osama Bin Laden their bitch. There's a lot to be happy about. So pull that sideways dorito out of your ass and lighten up Frances. Since when is egging your high school rival's car not funny anymore? Everything's a trade off people, so would you like your house robbed or toilet papered?
Pranks are funny and I suggest you lighten up because I'd hate to have to set a bag of dog shit on fire on your front porch.
Okay. The dog shit prank is a bit much. Who Does That?!
We moved into what I would thought was a great little neighborhood. I have decided neighborhoods breed contempt. After living in the middle of nowhere and enjoying being loud as I wanted when I wanted, letting my kids run around naked while they were being potty trained and playing pool with my friends after midnight ... gasp ... I realize that with all the added benefits of being in a city with more than 10,000 people in it there are a few setbacks that make moving to the Love Canal more appealing than a condo in Dubai.
I have decided people with no sense of humor piss me off. I just want to punch them in their frowny faces. Which is not funny, but does make me laugh. My kids decide that it's spring break and by god boredom is going to force them to participate in a lot of nonsense, but ding dong ditching is funny and I'd rather they do that then spray paint the side of the elementary school.
They are taping themselves recreating a gag they saw on youtube with an invisible rope that they pretend to put across the road and screw with the people trying to enter our neighborhood. Then they roll on the grass laughing their asses off high fiving each other about how clever they are. I LOVE it.
So... for the most part people are laughing, commenting "old joke boys" and one lady that was strolling with her head phones on actually jumped over the invisible rope and kept walking. Classic. These people know that they are living in a neighborhood where 11 and 12 year old boys are playing harmless pranks instead of snorting heroin and screwing the babysitter. And if you don't think that's happening I suggest you get your dumb ass up from your desk on your lunch hour and check on the kids you left at home. That being said don't start whining to me about having a career doesn't make you a bad parent. Right, but if you think your little angels are not getting into trouble when you're gone you are fooling yourself all the way to the abortion clinic.
Back to moron's with no sense of humor. We live in the greatest country on the planet, medical technology is on a path to keep us alive well into our 200th birthdays and Hitler and Stallin are in hell now fighting over who's gonna make Osama Bin Laden their bitch. There's a lot to be happy about. So pull that sideways dorito out of your ass and lighten up Frances. Since when is egging your high school rival's car not funny anymore? Everything's a trade off people, so would you like your house robbed or toilet papered?
Pranks are funny and I suggest you lighten up because I'd hate to have to set a bag of dog shit on fire on your front porch.
Okay. The dog shit prank is a bit much. Who Does That?!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Well ... F#*! Me Running
So here's the 411. I don't exercise. I don't. Not ever. I don't make fun of folks who do, nor do I envy their discipline. It's just not my bag man.
I don't do yoga. I don't do aerobics. I don't swim, unless it's to get over to a float and I certainly do NOT under any circumstances run. Running is for emergencies. And it better be a huge fucking emergency or I will rationalize all the way over to pick up your severed finger and stroll back in the house to get it on ice while I look for my keys.
There was one time ... long, ago, when I ran. Very, very fast as a matter of fact, but I served my debt to society and I am living a corruption free life now and I don't feel like I need to explain myself to any of you derelicts. I do remember that time when I ran and frankly it was kind of like a near death experience. I ran completely out of air, fell to my knees and saw a white light. Now, that could have been the after effects of being tased with an X26, but I digress.
My 13 year old son has been introduced to the "joys of running" at school and on a four hour drive home from Columbia I listened to how much he wanted to start running for "fun" and how he wanted me to commit to running a 5K with him. After I stopped laughing ... I tried to explain to him that I do not run anywhere. Not to the mailbox or even after an ice cream truck and that I am old and feeble and participating in such a high risk sport may actually kill me. He was not impressed. "Well, you won the Presidential Physical Fitness Award back when it was hard to win, so you can run." I said, "Who told you that horse shit"? "Grandma".
So now I am training to run a 5K in November. What a bunch of BULLSHIT! The first night I got a reprieve, rained like hell, thunder, lightening ... Saweeet! Last night, not so lucky. I spent most of my day on the phone with the local weather man threatening to shove bamboo shoots up his fingernails if he could not give me the forecast I was looking for. The rest of the time was spent bitching at my sister to help me find the nearest Quapaw tribe to perform a rainmaking ritual. "Mom? Why are you wearing feathers and turquoise"? "To invoke wind and .... oh, never mind. Just get your fucking running shoes on".
So I did the first "workout". I get home and text my sister. The convo went like this.
"Well, I did it. Now for a celebratory cigarette".
"Sweet. Did you get a runners high"?
"What's that"?
"I don't know".
"Exactly".
I ran/walked for 1.27 miles at 3.56 miles per hour. I know right? I was flyin'. His Dad is running with him tomorrow. Who Does That?!
I don't do yoga. I don't do aerobics. I don't swim, unless it's to get over to a float and I certainly do NOT under any circumstances run. Running is for emergencies. And it better be a huge fucking emergency or I will rationalize all the way over to pick up your severed finger and stroll back in the house to get it on ice while I look for my keys.
There was one time ... long, ago, when I ran. Very, very fast as a matter of fact, but I served my debt to society and I am living a corruption free life now and I don't feel like I need to explain myself to any of you derelicts. I do remember that time when I ran and frankly it was kind of like a near death experience. I ran completely out of air, fell to my knees and saw a white light. Now, that could have been the after effects of being tased with an X26, but I digress.
My 13 year old son has been introduced to the "joys of running" at school and on a four hour drive home from Columbia I listened to how much he wanted to start running for "fun" and how he wanted me to commit to running a 5K with him. After I stopped laughing ... I tried to explain to him that I do not run anywhere. Not to the mailbox or even after an ice cream truck and that I am old and feeble and participating in such a high risk sport may actually kill me. He was not impressed. "Well, you won the Presidential Physical Fitness Award back when it was hard to win, so you can run." I said, "Who told you that horse shit"? "Grandma".
So now I am training to run a 5K in November. What a bunch of BULLSHIT! The first night I got a reprieve, rained like hell, thunder, lightening ... Saweeet! Last night, not so lucky. I spent most of my day on the phone with the local weather man threatening to shove bamboo shoots up his fingernails if he could not give me the forecast I was looking for. The rest of the time was spent bitching at my sister to help me find the nearest Quapaw tribe to perform a rainmaking ritual. "Mom? Why are you wearing feathers and turquoise"? "To invoke wind and .... oh, never mind. Just get your fucking running shoes on".
So I did the first "workout". I get home and text my sister. The convo went like this.
"Well, I did it. Now for a celebratory cigarette".
"Sweet. Did you get a runners high"?
"What's that"?
"I don't know".
"Exactly".
I ran/walked for 1.27 miles at 3.56 miles per hour. I know right? I was flyin'. His Dad is running with him tomorrow. Who Does That?!
Monday, September 10, 2012
I Have a Teenager
So, this morning I let my new teenager sleep in and drove him to school on his birthday. As we approached the school, pulling through the line of cars he looks at me and says, " When we stop, I am going to get out of this car and if you say anything, Scream anything, roll the window down and SING ANYTHING, I swear to god, I'm going to hit you." I laughed so hard I peed my pants. It finally happened. He totally gets me and I love it. On top of that ... IT'S ON! People have commented I have no idea what I'm in for, yeah .... well, he has no fucking idea what HE'S in for.
Growing up with my dad was an experiment in mortification. He was constantly scaring us half to death and embarrassing us in front of everyone. I don't think I've ever told him, but they are some of my fondest memories. He would jump out from behind something and scream or quietly stalk you until he got close enough to give you the finger zinger in the rib cage while you were concentrating on homework or doing dishes. One of his favs ... go outside your open window at night with a load of giggling girlfriends in your room, appear there with a flashlight under his chin, making a face only a mother could love and waiting until one of us saw him and screamed. One Halloween he dressed up as Quasimodo and ran around on our roof, jumping down and chasing everyone out of the yard. No one came to our house again.
He would also say completely embarrassing things in front of my friends, of course, all in the name of his "good fun". Had a boyfriend pick me up for a first date once and as we are leaving he says, "Hey Kim, make sure your mom get's that doctor's appointment so you can get that "thing" checked out and get on some birth control." Oh my fucking god! I thought I would crawl under the kitchen table and die. Another time after a friend and I dated a couple of very nice boys who happened to be African American, we were hitting the drive through at the McDonald's for ice cream and as we get up to order he says, "Sorry girls, only vanilla ice cream here, no chocolate." WTF? Really Dad? He amused himself for days with that one.
Needless to say, I learned from the best. And now Bratton will learn as well. He's already had a taste of what I'm capable of. One day he was being an ass on the way to school for no reason and as we pulled up I started singing Charlie Chaplin's Smile incredibly loud, right in front of the group of girls waiting for him as he got out. I did a whole verse before he gave me the finger.
I have nothing negative to say in regards to torturing your children by embarrassing them or scaring the ever lovin' shit out of them. It's our right as parents and human beings and I say don't apologize for it make it part of your parenting agenda. Who Does That?!
Growing up with my dad was an experiment in mortification. He was constantly scaring us half to death and embarrassing us in front of everyone. I don't think I've ever told him, but they are some of my fondest memories. He would jump out from behind something and scream or quietly stalk you until he got close enough to give you the finger zinger in the rib cage while you were concentrating on homework or doing dishes. One of his favs ... go outside your open window at night with a load of giggling girlfriends in your room, appear there with a flashlight under his chin, making a face only a mother could love and waiting until one of us saw him and screamed. One Halloween he dressed up as Quasimodo and ran around on our roof, jumping down and chasing everyone out of the yard. No one came to our house again.
He would also say completely embarrassing things in front of my friends, of course, all in the name of his "good fun". Had a boyfriend pick me up for a first date once and as we are leaving he says, "Hey Kim, make sure your mom get's that doctor's appointment so you can get that "thing" checked out and get on some birth control." Oh my fucking god! I thought I would crawl under the kitchen table and die. Another time after a friend and I dated a couple of very nice boys who happened to be African American, we were hitting the drive through at the McDonald's for ice cream and as we get up to order he says, "Sorry girls, only vanilla ice cream here, no chocolate." WTF? Really Dad? He amused himself for days with that one.
Needless to say, I learned from the best. And now Bratton will learn as well. He's already had a taste of what I'm capable of. One day he was being an ass on the way to school for no reason and as we pulled up I started singing Charlie Chaplin's Smile incredibly loud, right in front of the group of girls waiting for him as he got out. I did a whole verse before he gave me the finger.
I have nothing negative to say in regards to torturing your children by embarrassing them or scaring the ever lovin' shit out of them. It's our right as parents and human beings and I say don't apologize for it make it part of your parenting agenda. Who Does That?!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Vampires...WTF?
Is it creepy that I think all those vampire kids are hot? I am aware that calling any vampire hot is in and of itself creepy, but when did being a vampire become sexy? Not just the guys, but the girls too. I know it wasn't always that way. I mean ... Bela-Lugosi? Johnathan Frid? Grandpa Munster? These guys couldn't be sexy if they had as much plastic surgery as Heidi Montag and bathed in Bradley Cooper's saliva. Who, by the way, IS the sexiest man alive according to People magazine. How is that possible? He's not even a fucking vampire. That's BULLSHIT.
Until now, the closest they came to hot vampires was David Bowie in The Hunger. The Lost Boys? Fuck the Lost Boys, that was not a movie about vampires. That was a movie introducing Jason Patrick to the general public because something that gorgeous should, without question, be offered for public consumption and not asked to walk and speak and act. I mean, only if he wants to. The only way to accomplish that was, yes, a vampire movie. He was able to glide in and out of rooms, or fly if he wants, smoking hot, breathing heavy, slightly ... and I mean slightly sweating and staring deep into the camera and straight into some peri-menopausal, somewhat out of shape, newly bitter divorce', who is also slightly sweating.
And this phenomenon looks like it has entered a point of no return because it has spilled into these kids personal lives and our blood thirsty public has become more delusional than Charles Manson wearing an extra Fentanyl patch. Who would not want to BE a hot vampire DATING a hot vampire, I don't care how old you are, but they are chasing these two ... uhhhhhh .... Robin Peterson and Christian Stewart around like a pack of wild she wolves. And this vampire slut had her picture taken hugging her older and married director friend, fuck buddy and everyone is shocked. Don't you dumb asses watch Cheaters? This happens ALL the fucking time. But don't get your cape in a wad ... I'm sure he's a vampire too.
I have seen these folks who think it's really progressive to have their teeth shaped and crowned to mimic what a real vampire's fangs would look like. Ummmm ... how do you explain that one to your grandchildren? Not a good idea moron. Just ask Avril Lavigne. Who Does That?!
Until now, the closest they came to hot vampires was David Bowie in The Hunger. The Lost Boys? Fuck the Lost Boys, that was not a movie about vampires. That was a movie introducing Jason Patrick to the general public because something that gorgeous should, without question, be offered for public consumption and not asked to walk and speak and act. I mean, only if he wants to. The only way to accomplish that was, yes, a vampire movie. He was able to glide in and out of rooms, or fly if he wants, smoking hot, breathing heavy, slightly ... and I mean slightly sweating and staring deep into the camera and straight into some peri-menopausal, somewhat out of shape, newly bitter divorce', who is also slightly sweating.
And this phenomenon looks like it has entered a point of no return because it has spilled into these kids personal lives and our blood thirsty public has become more delusional than Charles Manson wearing an extra Fentanyl patch. Who would not want to BE a hot vampire DATING a hot vampire, I don't care how old you are, but they are chasing these two ... uhhhhhh .... Robin Peterson and Christian Stewart around like a pack of wild she wolves. And this vampire slut had her picture taken hugging her older and married director friend, fuck buddy and everyone is shocked. Don't you dumb asses watch Cheaters? This happens ALL the fucking time. But don't get your cape in a wad ... I'm sure he's a vampire too.
I have seen these folks who think it's really progressive to have their teeth shaped and crowned to mimic what a real vampire's fangs would look like. Ummmm ... how do you explain that one to your grandchildren? Not a good idea moron. Just ask Avril Lavigne. Who Does That?!
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