Douchebag of the week! Username: Maniwannakillyou

Ah the wide open road.  How I ever survived without two wheels before I have no idea.  Hell, with the way it is in LA, how I’m going to survive on two wheels isn’t far off either.

Enter the first of many scooter related car agressive behaviors.

Dear people who drive cars,

I know you’re too busy not paying attention and being completely oblivious to the world around you in your lovely protected bubble, but for the love of pete people!  While yes, I understand that while you are driving is the *perfect* time to do a myriad of activities you couldn’t possibly be bothered to do while you’re, oh, not driving (ie: shaving your legs, picking your nose in public, doing your makeup, disciplining your kid, frying pancakes- yes, ive actually seen someone do this in their car… it was actually my uncle…. yes, seriously) , I really would not like to die.

I know you’re in a hurry.  Hell this is LA.  Everyone is in a hurry to get that place down the street from them, 20 minutes away.  That’s part of the reason I’m on my bike.  Because frankly it sucks sitting in the gridlock waiting to go 2 feet.  I know you’re jealous of that.  It’s ok, I’d be jealous too.  I’m pretty jealous of those big rar bikes I see out there as well.  It’s ok.  I will totally girl it out and rock my scooter.

Dear cars,

You are not going to get ahead of me when I’m at the front of the line.  Deal with it.  But douchebags, remember that to hold up that bike at the stop light, I have to put my feet down.  Please refrain from trying to run over them because you’re pissed off that I get to go before you.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the winner of this weeks Douchebag of the week goes to…. asshole who wanted to turn left that slammed on their brakes for no apparent reason when I was 2 ft away from their bumper.

There was no one in front of him.  There wasn’t a small infant or animal or block of ice or a truck full of Haagen Daas dropping deliciousness out the back to merit any sudden braking.  It was completely open with no traffic.  I was behind said douchebag and going normal speed, when suddenly… wham.  And it was almost wham for me… in their back windshield.

They say that most accidents occur within 2 miles of your home.  It is the area where your guard is down and you are most comfortable.  This was down the street from me.  Thankfully it wasn’t the day I was getting a smoothie over there, because otherwise, it would have been even douchey-ier, though I’m sure I’d smell delectable covered in smoothie juice.

I’d really really not like to die on my bike due to someone being a pussy and breaking out of nowhere.  Here’s to you mr Maniwannakillyou.  Perhaps you should pay attention to the people behind you and learn how to drive you jerkface.

[untitled] things unsaid

it’s 830am.

ive slept too much hoping to wake up with answers.

i haven’t found anything has changed except the hour.

the only thing i do know is that i really shouldn’t want to go to potentially see you, but that may very well be a part of why i do.

Agenda, agenda

Potential/intended weekend lineup:


  • Angels game tonight (just found out so most likely won’t go)
  • Work
  • Grocery shopping
  • Comic book shop



  • Work.
  • Detox.
  • Take the train down to Claremont.
  • Family day.


  • Dmv appointment @ the asscrack of dawn.
  • catchup with a friend I haven’t seen in months.
  • Work.
  • PSK?

Apologies and aftermaths not quite closed

My take on apologies?
Well they speak volumes of your character.
Believe it or not-
Every one is gonna mess up.
He’s going to make a mistake.
She’s going to go the wrong way.
Someone is going to say something that hurt you.
One day you’re going to wish you never did something that is done already.

And it’s about the way you pick yourself up and acknowledge your error.

And can you apologize for it… no I mean sincerely, say you’re sorry in the most humble and honest way possible— with hope that you’re forgiven, but understanding if you’re not? Have you ever been taught how? Do you know what the premise of “I’m sorry” is?

It means I wish I hadn’t and I won’t do it again.

I found the above note on the tumblr of a girl I met at a party a few weeks ago.  She’s a wonderful girl that I spent a bit of time with at said party.

There is a backstory to the following apology below.  Although it has already been discussed with the person involved, I was moved by her post to add more to it here in the public space.  The rabbit hole goes deep with this tale in which I view the experience to truly be something that I will smile about and forever treasure in my mind, regardless of what happens in the aftermath.

And to you “my” dear sir so & so…

I’m truly sorry I reacted the way that I did.  Hopefully someday you may see to the sincerity.. of moments so pure and beautiful that in the aftermath (I hope it’s a see you later, rather than a goodbye)in my heart of something magical in its own right rather than the tainted disdain it may very well likely (doubtfully) have become.

I realize that if I’ve waited this long for 1 legendary moment, regardless if there’s more after, what a great moment to have to look back at.  Here’s hoping that you will not only remain there.  Here’s hoping you visit me in the realm of… whatever way you desire, if only for another moment once again.


I oftentimes find myself having both the best and worst timing imaginable.  Why it seems to happen, I’m unsure.  But I wouldn’t give it up any of it.

All those moments…

the rise and fall of passion and levity to see-you-laters and goodbyes…

Life is about the experiences.

They’re about discovery.

What’s real.

And what’s going to make you more real…

however surreal and dreamlike they may be.

I’m so grateful I found you.







If only for a moment.

If only for this moment.

however surreal and dreamlike it may be.


That’s it, I’ve finally realized that I’m old.  I’ve hit milf status.  I’ve hit… the first steps towards the end of the line.  It’s only a matter of time before I have to invest in wrinkle creams and Depends.

When I visited my family this weekend I saw the following sign on my son’s door:

except for Mom, this means you... for now.

except for Mom, this means you... for now.

My oldest son lives with my dad right now.  He’s six.  I don’t remember getting so private when I was his age.  Hell, the exact opposite seems to be the case as I’ve gotten older.

My son still calls me Mommy.  But he’s growing up.  They grow up far too fast.

This should not be a shock to me, yet it is.  I like to focus on teaching my son to be independent and encourage him with space and activities to help built that foundation while also balancing the value of outside relationships.

In suburbia, having grown up in a small town in IL about the same distance from the city as my son does, so much is lost in translation.  I find myself having to correct my son’s clouded vision of where Mommy lives and works as being negative.

I’ve found there is more babying done within a suburban community, whereas city kids are forced to learn real world applications sooner weather they like it or not.  Sink or swim.  No one is going to give a shit about you except you.  Harsh, but real.

I’m a very proud mother today.   It makes me smile a bit to see that my son is learning this lesson earlier on his own.  It appears to be coming primarily from him.

So if he wants someone to knock before entering his room, I’ll gladly do it.  Even if I’m not one of the ones he’s referring to.  Because later, when he could be potentially getting into more trouble than a little childish bickering over who gets to play Sonic or who gets the blue mouse in Mousetrap, he will be more open and willing to share it with me.  Respecting your child’s privacy to encourage openness…  sometimes a little common decency and reverse psychology goes a long way.

And now a tale of a “preacher’s” daughter

Ah Easter Sunday… or in atheist and pop culture, Zombie Jesus Day.  So whichever way you prefer, happy ___ to you.

This weekend has been a bit of a rollercoaster.  I come from a very conservative Roman Catholic background.  My family is very devout with their faith.  They uphold traditions of ritual and wholesome values.  I have the utmost respect for their commitment to the cross, but… well I know that I’m far from it.

I am the sterotypical cliche of a Catholic school girl gone wrong.  I drink, I smoke, I delight in things that are both volatile and scandalous.  I’m an atheist, outspoken, liberal girl who loves rock and roll, fast cars, motorcycles, piercings, tattoos and deviants.  I revel in the throws of passion.

My idea of kneeling down to worship is on my knees in front of that certain someone (or someones).  I am devoted to my work and play- but, well it just isn’t what my family would agree with.    Oh how far the apple falls from the tree.

What daddy doesnt know...

What daddy doesn't know... won't hurt him.

My parents are separated (ie: happier and divorced) and are both entering their second marriages.  Mom still lives back home in Chicago suburbia with her husband that looks like John Denver.  My dad, finally on the path to marrying the one girlfriend he’s had over the years that I get along with best… most of the time.

She’s not Catholic however.  My father is very strict about this.  Ah conversion… this is how I know for sure it’s a cult.  He will not marry her until she completes the process of being one so that they can get married in a church ceremony.  This weekend she was confirmed and got a few other sacraments.  I was invited to go but unfortunately (fortunately) had work to do so I had to postpone until later today.

Ironically as it were, this season I found myself writing copy for a site for singles of all forms… sites to help you meet the millionaire of your dreams, to one night stands to… someone who shares the same faith.   I found myself searching for answers.  Anything to help assist me to write about something I had no connection to.  I found this gem of a website (NSFW):

Pegging is not a sin if you do it with your significant other

Pegging is not a sin if you do it with your significant other

For someone as far from those tracks as I am,  despite the ease of my current project, I found the latter the most difficult piece to write.  Also, since I am currently without a laptop, I can’t exactly just go to my dad’s and ask him to borrow the family PC to write smut copy.  Regardless if I tell him that it’s work (which it genuinely is thankfully), he will tell me its crap.  He doesn’t even need to know what it is to say that either- just that it requires me to be on the internet, and therefore it is evil.

I elected to stay in for a majority of my weekend to work on it, as my soft deadline is Monday morning.  I will be committing a majority of today to family activities far away from this horrible place we call “teh interwebz.”  Friday night was quiet.  I saw the oo shiny of parties and event goings on, but wanted to get some work done.  I took company with a longtime friend from Bakersfield across a screen.

“I sucked as a Christian that’s why i chose Atheism.” I told Tino.

This of course, led to even more ridiculous chats as the first initial reactions as to what to write didn’t exactly make it to print (there at least).

Here’s a few lines from the more… interesting form of copy, in prayer format:

Whenever I go to pray, I ask for a companion.

Oh dearest God… all I want more than anything is…

for someone to fuck me up the ass proper.

I mean!

Dearest Lord please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the wisdom to…

know just which guy is not going to need an instruction book to pleasure me in all the ways the devil would…

No!  I mean!

I just want a close friend that I can tell anything…

like don’t be afraid to be man enough to pull my hair and yank on…

And if I could get a really great… ” girl blowjob” that would be awesome too.

I ask this through Jesus Zombie.


Ah prayer.. it seems I cannot escape it, even when I’m writing ad copy.  It’s… amazing.  Religion seeps into most everything weather we like it or not.  If you don’t have a sense of humor about it, you will always be set up for heartache.

Yesterday was my “kick butt” class.  It’s my monthly self defense class.  The instructor gives encouraging talks throughout the seminar about real life applications to better enhance what you take out of the class.  It’s one commitment that I have been doing for a few months now.

This month’s class was about pushing your limitations.  We learned just how much you need to push yourself to get what you want.  Hard work and determination will pay off… but only with a commitment to practice and focus.  That said I can now both mentally and physically take your ass down if you mess with me.  Beware LA dating scene or I’m going to fuck you up.

At the end of the class, the instructor wanted us to pay our respects with a very old bow and prayer.  It was not a religious affair, and yet, it seemed as if it were.  The act didn’t bother me though.  I have the utmost respect for the ritualistic nature of religion, even if I don’t practice it.  As long as it’s not shoved down my throat, I can observe in moderation.  Despite being a really bad Catholic by practice (or lack thereof) for my father’s sake, in the right circumstances, I can shine with my knowledge about the faith when sequestered.

So there you have it.   Another lesson from yesterday’s class… you can’t escape your past.  Sometimes you have to embrace it and deal with it head on.  I have a few more pieces to finish and then I’ll be making my way to suburbia to visit the family and have Jesus cake.  Maybe I’ll even wear a dress.  Because well later tonight, there may be a dirty boy in my future.   Papa won’t know any better than to preach.

Douchebag of the week! Username: Heathers

Ah how many of you remember that beloved movie of the 80’s?

Let’s take a journey back in time to remember the female douchebags of my more formative years from one of my favorite cult classics.  It will make sense later I promise.

Heathers, circa 1988

Heathers, circa 1988

From right to to left, seen above, the characters Heather Duke, Heather McNamara, and the queen of the female douchebag power click, Heather Chandler accompanied by miss Veronica Sawyer.

In my teenage angst period and throughout my life, I seemed to most empathize with Wynonna Ryder’s character.  Here she was, riding along in the cool kids club, but she never really fit in.  There was something off about her, but not in a bad way.  It was noticeable enough to be noticed, but her entourage was her get out of jail free card.

For years I’d be haunted by these “Heathers.”  It became prevalent even more so when entering the entertainment industry.  It didn’t matter how nice you were to them, if you looked at some of them funny, wore your hair differently, showed up at a party with an attractive guy, got attention from the right person, they would snub you.  You are expendable and competition.   However, both parties can be successful in the Hollywood pool, but only if they moderate themselves.

In this movie, these douchebags made her life both hell and heaven.  The choice was hers.  So what better way to play the game than become one of the crew?  Once in the favor of the crowd, the potential to rise is endless.

Ah the politics of womanhood.  Take notice my dears and play nice, even if you don’t like eachother… because everyone wants the rank of a Heather but maintain the likeability of a Veronica.


This week’s douchebag of the week goes to a very special girl from the East Coast also named Heather.  Like the characters in the movie, she’s a gorgeous girl with a commanding presence.  People know who she is, and she’s popular within her circle.  But she failed to moderate herself…

One of my best friends back home, Jace, finally got involved with a girl, Nat, that he’s been madly in love with for 10 years.  He was doing the long distance relationship thing.  She- on the east coast, He- from Chicago.   Their courtship had been something danced around quite literally for some time.  Needless to say when it finally happened, he was glowing magnanimously.

Jace and Nat love to dance.  He’s frequently flown out there for dance competions and video game functions.  They have been best friends for ages.  Their relationship was strong.  He’d met her family.  All steps in the direction of a potentially great payoff and long term romance.

It was also during this time that he’d also met Heather.  She was a conventionally beautiful girl who loved to dance as well.  However when he’d initially shown interest in her, she rejected him.

Time passed and he’s with Nat.  He’s on cloud nine about it.  This was when it would finally all make a turn for the worse.

What is it about women who suddenly want the guy when he becomes off the market?

I must admit, I’m guilty of this too.. but here comes the psychotic difference between her and the rest of “sane” women.

He was being a good guy to Nat. Heather decided to come out in the open that she had feelings for him and wanted him.  He respectfully declined and repeatedly stated he was in love with his girlfriend.  She refused to listen.

There was a dance competition coming up that he planned on attending.  Heather decided that this was the perfect time to schedule a trip out to Chicago…. so she could see him in person and tell him everything.  Jace was not clued in on this.

He went to his dance gig as normal and ran into her.  He was trying to maintain a friendship with her and be cordial.  She pressed.  She said she had things of his to give back to him- a sweatshirt that was back at her hotel room.

He tried to get out of it but she pressed more….

“Please come and get this, it will only be a minute.”

He ended up at her hotel room.  She begins looking for the items in question.  He waits patiently.

She straddles him in a chair and makes it clear that she doesn’t have panties on.  She pulls out elaborate letters about how she wants to be with him and proceeds to pledge her undying desire for him.

And then she kisses him.  He’s stuck in this spot and doesn’t know how to get out of it gracefully.

He excuses himself… tells her that he’s in love with his girlfriend.  He says he’s flattered but this is wrong.

Driving home he feels terrible.  He feels he’s to blame for her actions.

Is there something I could have done differently?  Was I not clear with what I said about my position on this?

And then the email…

Heather wrote Nat an email about how she and Jace are now together.  She twists the story around to make it sound as if she were completely innocent to the whole thing.  Nat is destraut and believes the girl.

As of right now my friend Jace is now single due to this meddling Heather.  Congrats on becoming this weeks long distance douchebag of the week hooker girl.  Perhaps there’s potential for you in Hollywood just yet… but only if you learn to play nice lest you be crushed by the real Heather/Veronicas.  At which point, tell me when and where and I’ll bring the popcorn and the gloves… wouldn’t want to get blood on my nails you know.

Halts and time outs

I’m in the midst of yet another major time out.  It’s spring cleaning and with it comes… well the evaluation process of what’s working, what needs to go and what’s actually important.

I’ve noticed over time I seem to have strayed from my journalistic roots.  Once upon a time, I was a game journalist.  In high school, for our school newspaper, I covered everything under the sun, with primary focus in features articles.  I loved it.  It challenged me.

The blogging I initially started here was more for personal reflection.  In some ways it was a collection of all of my thoughts- both fluid and real time that I wanted to release and share.  It was part of the collection for the book I’m writing about my journey through an abusive marriage and divorce.   Later it grew to my path towards getting on my feet, falling on my face, learning to find the strength to get back up again and do it all over.

It was very personal.  It was harsh and real.  It was also a double edged sword.  Ultimately I came to some very important conclusions from it.

Friday was very significant to me.  In many ways, I realized just how much I really wanted to be more careful and greedy about what I sent out into the digital space.  I took a time out.  A very much needed time out.

“There are some things that are meant to be legendary.” he said.

Simple, yet profound,  it was a piece of commentary in a silly private conversation that resonated so strongly… reminder of things I already know but tend to forget.  The easiest and hardest things seem to be that way.

I shared bits and pieces about the events that transpired on my weekend with close friends, but left few digital footprints about it.  It was legendary and however selfish it may have been to keep them private, the moments were my own and the world doesn’t need them unless I chose to share them with them.

People know far too much about my love affairs.  And although I’m forever thankful and happy to tell tales of my brushes with romance and heartache, perhaps part of the problem is that I am sharing these and not writing about it the way that it should be.

I’m taking to account the comments made from my peers: a cast of characters embued into the story, my readers, and the potential readership.  It comes with a price.  I’m weighing in.

I think it’s time you know more about the paths to the stories.  I need to dedicate more time into writing my novels, my screenplays, my childrens books, and, in this realm, my journalistic roots.  I’ve been doing it the way I wanted to for some time, and for those of you that have followed me through this journey, I appreciate you emphatically.  It’s time to put a halt on the bullshit.

I’m sick of being crucified for putting myself so out in the open to be crucified.  The relationships I have become compromised.  Despite my relatively off radar lifestyle, the blips that I do share get run away with.  While I encourage your imagination, there needs to be more left to your imagination.

I think in the end, the format really needs to be more evident of how I’ve changed.  People haven’t taken me as seriously as I’d have liked them to because I show them too much.  If people want to know my personal stories, they’re going to have to get to know me personally or read about it in one of my novels.    Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?  I’ve been selling myself short here.

Ironically it’s the ease of connectivity and accessibility that is really taking a toll.  I want more emphasis on building ways to effectively communicate ideas, passions, goals, desires in a cohesive fashion that isn’t so much “Look at me.”  How about you start inwardly and stop giving a crap about if people are watching what you do or not.

Life is about the journey, not about the destination.  Share your stories with the people you hold dear.  Stop being so accessible to strangers.  If you’re going to put yourself out there, be careful what you write.  On the digital scape, there is no undo.


There are some things that are meant to be legendary.

The best advice I was given in such a long time…

Douchebag of the week: usernames- Kings of “awesome”

This week’s douchebag award was actually sent in via a tip.  For some odd reason I didn’t encounter a douchebag of my own so this is a special entry.  Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of this turning into a regular basis.  There’s a high density of douchebags in the greater Los Angeles area to make fun of.  Lucky lucky me.  Lucky lucky you.

A friend of mine works in a very corporate office setting.  It’s to be understood that while he works for a company that’s very relaxed, it is also… well extremely corporate.  There’s a degree of conduct that should be said without being said.

Enter two well known but very well known and pretentious douchebags.  They’re celebrity types.  And they’re guests at his office.  But they’re not meeting with him today.  I’m not sure if they’re due to meet with him ever actually.

He’s talking to me in instant messenger while working and hears them.  Sure enough, they’re having a meeting right outside his door.  Loud and obnoxious circle jerking.  They are their own kings of awesome.

This has been going on for the past 30 minutes.  He’s had to file a complaint about their behavior.  A little common decency goes a long way.  Pardon me guys but my friend has to work or something.  Now back to ims.