Look What You Made Me Do – What Just Happened?

I love T. Swift, I don’t care who knows but with that being said, I’m having a hard time collecting my emotions after listening to Look What You Made Me Do. I have feelings about it.

First, I was a little too excited for a thirty plus year old when I heard she was releasing a new single. I got butterflies. Judge me if you must but it was the first thing I did after crawling out of bed – I didn’t even go to the bathroom.

It’s so weird, and it kinda startled me. 

I’m not even going to tell you how many times I’ve listened to this song today, mostly because it’s embarrassing but also because I’m trying to figure out if I love it, if I hate it, or if the old Taylor Swift is actually dead.

Maybe she’s not your cup of tea but she’s clearly a new woman. Just listen to the song, and this could be you.

The music video, not to be confused with the creepy lyric video, is premiering on the MTV Video Music Awards on Sunday. I’m nervous, who is the non-dead new Taylor going to be? 

Okay, I’ll stop now.

Disclaimer: Explicit Language – Because Someone Grabbed My P****.

Maybe he didn’t grab it. Perhaps it was more of a slap. I don’t know, and to be frank I have no obligation to explain details – he put his hand on my private parts, end of story. It doesn’t matter how, when, why, where or what the specifics were that day. What does matter, to me anyway, is that I call him out publicly, in hopes that he stops being such a goddamn creep.
I’ll tell you the whole story, but first I want to let other people know, if you’ve been disrespected, or sexually harassed – stand your ground. The humiliation does not lie on you. Maybe it doesn’t seem significant enough but at the very least… call them out. Spread the word, because shame on them, not us.
So anyway, I went to a bar to celebrate my friend’s birthday and a guy took it upon himself to grab my crotch, unprovoked and absolutely uninvited. He legit, Donald-Trump-Pussy-Grabbed me. This man was, and is not a stranger but he’s certainly not a friend. I’d maybe call him an acquaintance if he wasn’t such a douchebag, and if that term didn’t sound a little friendly. Unfortunately, our lives seem to cross paths about once a week, so I was less than surprised when he was also there to celebrate.
I was walking towards the bathroom when the birthday girl and crotch-grabber started walking in my direction, excited because they had just won some money on the gambling machine. Happy for her, who shouldn’t win on their birthday? I hugged her, not paying much attention to the guy at the center of the story. This is when it happened. I felt it, grasped my friend’s face and with wide eyes exclaimed:..
Yes, I am a lady, and sometimes ladies use that word also. Especially when the situation calls for more serious vocabulary, of the colorful variety.
I walked away, shocked, passing another friend and without hesitation I told her too. I did not, and still do not care who knows. I have no interest in protecting him and ideally he’d be as embarrassed as humanly possible.
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So, here we are.
After I exited the bathroom he approached me, and hold onto your shorts folks because you’ll never guess what he said to me. He did not apologize, rather told me that I need to simmer down. Me. Simmer down. I am not typically one to have a filter, and looking back now I’m disgustingly surprised that I did not lose my shit on him right then and there. I was so offended that I simply walked away.
Then, after already taking it upon himself to make my body his entertainment, and after his snarky attitude followed… he had the audacity to approach me yet again.
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He rested his elbow on my shoulder, I looked up at him and plainly stated: My husband will kill you. His response? “Are you threatening me?” If you didn’t stress that statement with a solid douchebag accent, feel free to re-read it. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, while all of this is taking place my husband is at the event with me. That takes balls, his confidence is astounding.
I don’t know if he’s stupid enough to believe women, married women at that, are into grotesque social graces such as those or if he’s simply just a tasteless little boy with a lack of morals. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not impressed, and sincerely hope he finds himself reading this and feels even the most mild sense of shame.
This happened three month ago. Initially I kept this from my husband because 1.) I didn’t want him to go to jail and 2.) I didn’t want to put myself, or my man in a position where he’d have to ask me – Why would he think it’s okay to do that? It’s a fair question. Why did Creeper McCreeperston feel like that was okay? What gives someone that caliber of entitlement? I have no answers, but secrets out. Now everyone knows.
So to you: you know who you are, you know that other people know who you are. I’m hoping that since I got this off my chest I can finally start doing what you asked and simmer down. None of the questions I asked here require an answer, you’re not worth my time. I’m not threatening you, but politely warning: don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, and keep your fucking hands off me. Don’t offer to put my drink on your tab, and stop pretending that we’re friends. To me, you’re nothing more than a disgusting bar rat. 
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Solar Eclipse? No, Thank You.

I don’t want to watch the solar eclipse. Should I feel bad about it? I feel kind of guilty.

Everyone’s out there with their solar shades, waiting for this once in a lifetime opportunity and I am too much of a jump-down-the-rabbit-hole kinda person that I can’t even attempt to enjoy it.

I won’t go over the theories opinions I’ve entertained because I’m attempting to not sound like a total freak. You probably already have some less than desirable opinions of your own based solely on the fact that I wish everyone would just stop.


I typically think a lot of things are over rated, the more hype the less interested I become. The chances of <insert person, place or thing here> being amazing to the point of me getting exceptionally excited are far less than the chances of disappointment. You’d be surprised though, I’m actually a pretty likable pessimist and those are hard to come by.

I didn’t watch The Notebook until it was available on DVD for like, 5 years. Every lady I knew, and didn’t know what talking about this magical movie and I’m over here protesting: There’s no way it’s as good as everyone says it is. Then I watched it, and it was great and I felt like a fucking idiot.

So back to this eclipse…

I have a ten year old kid who will be home with me at the time of said event. I honestly haven’t even really brought it up to him but I’ve absolutely envisioned his teacher on the first day of school asking who all got to watch the eclipse and my kid would be sitting there watching everyone else raise their hands with excitement.

I’m the best at coming up with hypothetical situations. 

I don’t want him to be that kid, so we’ll watch it on the NASA live stream – for him.

I’m also going to mention that it kind of gives me the creeps. Not because I reacted to a few things on Facebook and now my newsfeed is full of conspiracy theories opinions but because it makes me feel tiny and insignificant. It’s a giant reminder that we’re nothing more than little specks, all Horton Hears a Who like in a massive, bigger than imaginable universe.

I don’t need those kind of reminders… they’re scary.

cat universe gif

And then I start jumping down the rabbit hole… bye.

So, enjoy the eclipse everybody, I’ll be over here trying to decide if I’m bored or if the end is near.

Thanks, Walgreens Lady

Got off from work the other night, latish, around 10pm and made a quick stop at the local Walgreens. The hubs was fiddling with our vehicle so he strolled in a minute or two after me.

As I was checking out, he lagged behind near the end-cap. I heard him mumble something and I gave a kinda-quiet, what? He was talking about the new Lay’s flavors but I was too focused on getting outta there and home that I didn’t try hard enough to listen or respond. I know, wife of the year.

A woman who might have been training the young man helping me said something to him softly, something like, I didn’t think there was anyone else in the store. I took a look around and noticed my husband had wandered off and I figured maybe he had startled her.

She was cautiously walking in his direction when I said, I think it might just be my husband. She breathed a sigh of relief, which baffled me, I took my change and she blurts out:

I thought that man was bothering you!

Here, all along she thought this creep had followed me into the store and was trying to pick me up by talking about the new Lay’s Flavors. Keeping in mind that one is, Crispy Taco, and if said-stranger bought a bag I’d probably hop into his white kidnapping van, super irresponsible like.

But With Tacos…

All jokes aside, I was most impressed with this woman having my back. She did more than just observe, she went looking for him. So, thanks Walgreens lady.

Appreciate you watching out.

B is for Big Brother [An Open Letter]

Today is my big brother’s birthday. Happy birthday to the guy who tormented me as a child and is presently one of my best friends.

Properly Ridiculous

Dear Brosef,

When we were kids, I thought I hated you and I was fairly confident you hated me too. Why else would you chase me around the house with your eyelids flipped over, laughing your ass off while I ran screaming for the hills? Why else would you force me to go on bike rides with you and when I couldn’t keep up you’d yell at me. Why else would you tie me up and leave me in the back yard?

Remember the summer mom almost got fired because I wouldn’t stop calling her to inform her again and again (and again and again) that you were being an asshole? If she did lose her job, in true little sister fashion I would have taken zero blame for that. On the flip side, I’m sure you can appreciate the number of times I took the rap for you. From your 9-1-1…

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