My Beautiful Shoulders

I know you didn’t ask…but this is how I feel:

I feel beat down.  I feel like every time I think I have gotten ahead, life grabs me by the neck and yanks me back behind everyone else.  I feel like I am always utterly truthful with everyone I know and the sentiment is rarely returned, especially when it’s wanted and needed the most.  I feel like I know I love you but I don’t know how to proceed at this point because anything going forward from here will be an act of will on my part to be the bigger person.  I feel tired of being the bigger person.  I feel tired of being the smaller person.  I feel tired of being a person.

I feel tired of being thrown under the bus.  I feel tired of always being “do or die” when it seems to me I’m always left for dead. I’m tired of feeling betrayed, hurt, lied to, abused, taken advantage of, and called out of my name.

I am sick to death of being slandered and jumped and having the cops called on me.

I am sick to death of always having to look over my shoulder.  I have good shoulders….I shouldn’t have to always fucking look over them….maybe that’s how I know how beautiful they are.

I feel like saying “FUCK YOU” to the Golden Rule, thermodynamics, Karma, the Law of Sewing and Reaping OR WHATEVER ANYONE WANTS TO CALL IT.

I feel like telling a small list of people that this is exactly how “going postal” happens.



Pray this novena 9 times for 9 days. This is a miracle prayer which never fails.Novena To
St. JudeMost holy Apostle, St. Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus,  the Church honors and invokes you universally, as the patron of difficult  cases, of things almost despaired of, Pray for me, I am so helpless and alone.
Intercede with God for me that He bring visible and speedy help where help is  almost despaired of. Come to my assistance in this great need that I may receive  the consolation and help of heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and  sufferings, particularly –
being so confused…not knowing where to go, feeling like I have no home because I don’t…scared to live but scared to die….being hated by people who hate solely on hatred fueled by jealousy…why they are jealous, I will never know….losing my one true love….not being able to trust….attracting those whom my subconscious knows will lie to me, cheat on me and fuck me over….bless my babies….let them know if I cant do this anymore and I go to always be strong and do for themselves AND NEVER FORGET YAH and always, always, ALWAYS KNOW HOW MUCH MOMMY LOVES EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY FIVE.
– and that I may praise  God with you and all the saints forever. I promise, O Blessed St. Jude, to be  ever mindful of this great favor granted me by God and to always honor you as  my special and powerful patron, and to gratefully encourage devotion to you.


Am I staying up all night getting in fights going to jail losing my job because I am off of my meds or am I off of my meds so I can stay up all night getting in fights going to jail losing my job?

Cause You Are

I keep losing at 8-ball pool but i keep playing anyway I’m listening to Tool cause this sunny day was a rainy day I gotta lotta thoughts i wanna say but my demons and angels keep getting in the way  that sounded like shit and i just want to quit bullshitting around at this night’s last sip no it’s really not the last sip of the ship that is going down flaming while i do a backflip i just lied again because I can’t do a gymnastic i took lessons one time and i loved that shit but dad thought it not so fantastic he told me i would end my life by breaking my neck a mop he gave me told me to sweep up his deck….i love being punny because i think that  its funny and i love to laugh in my belly when things are smelly and putrid and rotting and the whole thing that i call my world is twisting and turning and i know im a girl or a woman i suppose i love to cover my face in panty hose and pretend im a rob ya and rape ya and say that i got ya cause you suck balls and i don’t like you but i want you to love me and think that I’m awesome as gold wait til you see how my life will unfold, so far it’s been bad with some sprinkles of good when Im doing the things they say that i should but when the words in their mouth don’t match the words in their motions it causes my heart to feel some emotion and the emotion is anger cause that’s the one i’m best at I can cuss you up one side then this side and that and sound like my old favorite doctor who is doctor suess many times in my life dr suess has been my muse especially right now tool still playing in my ear and all that I hear is vicarious  so near but I’m not queer cause you are.

old posts

Old posts that I wrote whenever ago are so embarrassing that on the rare nights I decide to hop into the “way back” Machine and view them again  my awkward discomfort ninjas cause me to laugh and say (literally….out loud), lol lol  I DONT GIVE A FUCK Lol lol…

….that’s kind of always when I know that I do give a fuck.

Fuck off.

Asshole Cyst

I have a big ass ganglion cyst

and this cyst is making me pissed

I have no insurance and i have no doc

to remove this thing or perform op

and make this cyst go away

I tried to do it myself, the other day

I stuck a syringe in my hand

and wished the cyst to another land

after 3 times and 2000 cc’s

more whatever than a bladder full of pp

the thing was gone, or so I thought

but it was joking

cysts wont be mocked.

It’s back and made babies.

fucking asshole20150511_22390720150511_223846


I thought I was gonna get to see charlie again but now i am sure I am not
And I gotta admit that it hurts alot
I know you think I never fought
But I have. …every day of my fucking only accomplishment I sought and
I have come to surmise that despair is my lot…
Just like that guy from Sodom…
Off topic now I love char right from the bottom and
Straight to the top of my heart
That organ ripped apart
It never stops bleeding
And always keeps feeding on foods that I’m needing. ….the people I love the most.

Mommy loves you,  Charlie….and I WILL NEVER STOP

SKIP TO 4:15

You Ain’t Special Part 1

It was as if time and space had never existed. It was only me and I had just died and was laughing and playing with God, Himself.

There are no words to adequately describe anything, at all,  about my trip to Heaven,, but I am going to try my fucking hardest.

The very first thing I took away from my journey was this:  THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO FEAR ABOUT DEATH.

All of it is a cosmic joke, just like I thought it was, and believe me, your presence on this planet only exists in one facet of God’s Infinite Brain…one very, very, small, miniscule facet.

I hate to break it to you, but you really are not all that important in the Grand Fucking Scheme of Things, and neither am I.

But, WE ARE.

Isn’t that weird?  And yet it’s also everything I truly expected God to Be.

Jesus In The Christmas Lights

buddy jesus

Decorative Christmas lights are one of my favorite things, and I am notoriously famous for my outdoor light displays.

My recent Christmas light shenanigans garnered much attention from the world, two years in a row. One of them included an NPR interview for the show “This American Life”, and two other of the most wonderful blurbs, one on “Chelsea Lately” last year and the other in a Town Hall Debate on Fox News National in 2012.

Unfortunately, I believe the NPR interview was never aired because it was a 15-minute segment which was scheduled for around the 23rd of December, 2012.  I did the interview early in December before the ACLU became my legal representation in a lawsuit against my city.  Once the litigation started and a date was set for trial in Federal Court, a gag order was made effective.

However, there was this one incident involving me and  Christmas lights which only garnered the attention of God, thank God.

I had been shooting dope for days.  When I shot dope, I always did it for days, and back then it seemed like all I did was shoot dope, for days, because I really did.

In hindsight, the amount of dope I used to score, every day, still amazes me.  And, honestly, if I could still get good coke like I did back then, I would probably still be shooting dope.

But, this one time, almost fifteen years ago, I was at Rocky’s house.  I am not sure what title to apply to Rocky because he was my friend, who thought he was my boyfriend,  but he was never my boyfriend.   I never pretended to be his girlfriend, so he had to have known I didn’t like him in that way,  but I did fuck him sometimes.  And, come to think of it, he really wasn’t my friend, either.

At that time in my life, I didn’t give two holy fucks about having a boyfriend, unless he was holding an arsenal of cash, and I had several of those throughout my drug years.  None of those guys ever achieved “boyfriend” status.

Cocaine was my only true love and I was always a faithful partner.

I basically squatted at Rocky’s house for a decade or longer.  Rocky and I would get loaded for days on end, especially around the middle of every month when he would get his $5000 check.

Previous to Rocky’s drug addiction, he was in the insurance business and he did very well for himself.  He did so well, in fact, that in fifteen years of work he finagled a 5g check every month for the entire time I knew him, and I never saw him do a bit of work.  Rocky had already been on a three-year sabbatical when I met him.

On the day I made the rash decision to end my life, it was very, very cold outside and raining.  It had been raining for several days.  I do not remember the exact year or date, but it was probably 2001-2002 and I know it was pretty close to Christmas Day.

Like I said, we had been getting high for days.  This was normal for Rocky and I, but at this particular time, Ryan, my ex-husband happened to be at Rocky’s house.  I do not remember how Ryan ended up at Rocky’s house.  Looking back, if I had to guess, I suppose I had been at Ryan’s house getting loaded and became too paranoid over there at his house, so I went back to Rocky’s house, to ease the paranoia.

That happened to me quite frequently.  Most times, though, I was too paranoid to move from where I was sitting when I pulled the needle out of my arm (and threw it), much less, travel.  However, if I ended up on a good binge, staying awake longer than four or five days, the paranoia would always dissipate and turn into outright psychosis, sans paranoia.


It didn’t matter to me if Elvis was riding the Easter Bunny, sucking Ron Jeremy’s dick in Ted Bundy’s Volkswagen, and they were all waving to me through the window while I clicked my heels three times and said, “There’s no place like home”, once the paranoia left…I WAS GOOD.

That day, though, I wasn’t paranoid and I wasn’t good, either.

Those two dudes were pissing me the fuck off.

Yes, I became a paranoid schizophrenic as soon as I saw the blood register and pushed that plunger down, but I wasn’t the tweeker who was constantly peeping out the blinds and acting crazy.

I have always been able to keep that crazy inside of me.  That peeping out of the blinds shit, and not being able to talk shit, and when you do talk only talking about whose at the door or about dope….that wasn’t my bag.  I hated getting loaded with those kinds of junkies, which also happens to be MOST JUNKIES…so I mostly wanted to get high alone. That was also why I like Rocky’s house….he never did all that stupid paranoia shit which irritated the piss out of me. Only Ryan did that.

Rocky and Ryan both, however, had the nasty habit of doing the dope which I would give them, and then immediately start pestering me for more dope when I had always shared everything I had, and shared it in copious amounts. Honestly, it wasn’t altruism which inspired me to share so much, but it was more the paranoia and wanting to get the dope off of me once the paranoia bit me.

Nevertheless, I did not mind sharing, I knew the favor would eventually be returned (except from Ryan).  I only had one request:


NEWS, SPORTS, AND WEATHER…..and that’s it….that is all I want to talk about.  Don’t fucking talk to me about anything illegal while I am high, ok?  I’m giving you two fucking fucks all this cocaine for free, and I’m not even making you suck my dick for it, so it’s the least you can do, right?


After days of giving and never getting that one request fulfilled, my patience were no longer.

We ran out of coke again and I said, “no worries”.  I grabbed my keys and headed to the dope man’s house.  He lived about ten minutes away from Rocky, not far, at all.  I jumped in my car and off I sped and made it back to Rocky’s house within half of an hour with yet, another eight ball.

An eight ball is drug lingo for 3.5 grams of cocaine, whether it be powder or rock.  I prefer powder cocaine and that’s what I always got, much to Rocky’s dismay.  He was a crack smoker.  Ryan had no preference about the density nor texture of his cocaine.  Ryan really never cared at all about what drug he was doing, as long as it made him high….even if it really didn’t make him high at all because it was a placebo and all in his head….but that’s another story for another day.

When I returned to Rocky’s, they were both waiting for me in Rocky’s bedroom because that’s the room where we got loaded.  I pulled the bag of cocaine from my vagina and opened the bag which was now moist with the naturally occurring fluids a woman’s vagina makes. I poured half of the eight ball, a sixteenth, onto Rocky’s nightstand.

This was some really good powder, but then again, I always got really good powder. The smell of cocaine was so strong that I almost got paranoid just from that alone as I poured it onto the table.  I think I did start to become a bit weird, but I was easily able to shake it off because I wasn’t going to jail today, I was going to fucking die, goddamnit.

I already knew what I was going to do and my stomach did a somersault in anticipation as I saw the fiending look in both Rocky and Ryan’s eyes as they went for it.  As soon as Rocky’s hand got near the pile of coke, I took the biggest breath my asthmatic lungs could hold and then I exhaled with the most vigorous passion I could muster…all over the pile of coke.

Did I mention Rocky’s bedroom was carpeted?  HAHA!!!  I was the big bad wolf and I blew it all down, into the carpet, never to be retrieved again except by a vacuum cleaner.

While the boys immediately hit their knees scrambling to pick up powder from the carpet, an exercise in futility, if ever there was one, I made a beeline for the guest bathroom at the front of the house.  I locked the door behind me and wasted no time.  I emptied the other half of the eightball (the bigger half, lol)  into a table spoon and added the water and mixed.  There was so much dope that it hardly fit in the spoon once I got the water in there, so I was very careful.

After, I made the chemical change from solid to liquid, I put a piece of cotton from the end of a q-tip into the spoon and drew it up into my syringe.  I will never forget how thick and yellow it was and how there was so much that once I was finished drawing up every last drop, the plunger could not extend any further.

Now, it was on to my death.

Because I had blown just about every usable vein in my body, shooting up cocaine so much, I figured this time would be just like every other time, lately, I tried to get a hit.  I thought I would never get a register and if I did I would miss.  I was wrong.

I pushed the needle into my left arm, where I first started shooting.  I had quit using that spot long ago because of the amount of scar tissue I had to dig through to find the vein.  Amazingly enough, I registered immediately.  I thought to myself, “ok, this is it, here we go”, and I didn’t even have to count down from ten, like I usually do before I have to do something hard.  I just pushed the plunger.

I pulled the needle out of my vein quickly and set it down on the sink, there was no need to hide it, because I wouldn’t ever need it again.  I had just enough time to walk out of the bathroom and make it to the living room where Rocky and Ryan were standing.  Ryan had his hands on his hips and his face in a snarl, looking like he was ready to kill me….HAHA BITCH, YOU ARE TOO LATE!!!

I remember waving and saying, “bye!” and then I hit the ground.

My body started convulsing like nothing you have ever even seen on a Poltergeist type movie.  It was weird because I knew exactly what was happening, my brain was still able to think, but my body was in a grand mal seizure.  I was coming up with each convulsive thrust, at a ninety degree angle and then back down.

I can still feel my head hitting the ground each time my body threw itself down to the floor.  Up and down, up and down, up and down.  I could see Rocky and Ryan standing over me.  They were doing nothing but looking at me like this was something I deserved.  I was trying to talk but I don’t think any words were coming out of my mouth.  My body kept convulsing at those ninety degree angles.

I realized then, that I DID NOT WANT TO DIE.  Something inside of me kept saying, “Sarah, as soon as you stop seizing, you’re gonna die, this is it, are you ready?”


In my head, I started praying.  I didn’t really know how to pray and I didn’t know anything about God or religion except that I knew there is a God, but that’s all I knew.

I started praying for everyone in my family, “God bless mom and daddy and Katy and Mimi and”,….on the list went and I prayed for everyone in my family.

Through the psychotic jungle I was navigating in my mind, praying and begging and and convulsing worse than an epileptic having their worst seizure ever, I could hear Rocky and Ryan talking out loud wondering where I had put the rest of the dope.  I heard Ryan say, “well, she usually keeps it in her bra”.   The convulsions went on for a while and I know I remember at least getting part of the phrase, “call an ambulance”, out of my mouth, but both of them ignored it.

Then they started wondering out loud where they were going to dump my body.

I kept on praying for my family in my head and all of a sudden, it stopped.  The seizure was over.

I saw Jesus in the Christmas lights strung across Rocky’s living room.  Jesus was in every one of those bulbs and He spoke to me.  I got up off the floor and I left….psychotic as fuck….but I left and I don’t know how because the estimated lethal dose of cocaine , VIA NOSE is 1.2 grams and I just put at least 1.6 straight into my left arm.

There is a God, and they say He is good….though, I kinda still wish I had died that day.