I knew it would happen somewhere, sometime, and with somebody, but I didn’t know where, when or with whom, but I knew it absolutely would happen.

So, there I was doing some most excellent seductivication of that dude I love. I was in slut-adjacent sleepwear and my mouth was pretty busy; and then it happened, a 🚨BRITISH POLICE SIREN 🚨 begins blaring awkwardly from my phone which was buried under bedding and pillows.

We both giggle and he asked me, “um, why are the British police yelling at us?” With a deep sigh I replied, “that means my blood sugar is low.”

So, we dig out my phone and yep, was pretty low (55mg/dL for those wondering) but I drank my emergency juice box (what? You don’t save lives with a juice box? Weird.) and we both sat there and watched the phone. Then it went lower.

Fuuuuuuck.

So then he went and gathered me some candy and a regular soda (cause love) but it was extreme sour candy and a warm ginger beer (🤢) so I tried to eat the aggressively sour candy while he went and got me some ice and the non-sour candy.

Ate and drank and treated for all the carbs and low blood sugar, but the mood was completely destroyed and it was super late, so once I hit the high 60s, we went to sleep.

Only to be woken 4 hours later to ANOTHER 55mg/dL. 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🙄

I drank the rest of the soda, ate pack of candy, and said fuck it and went back to sleep.

Long story to just say, diabetes is a COCK BLOCKING BASTARD.

Love, H.

So, I am not shocked in the slightest that the alcohol, weed, and sex toy markets are doing darn well during this apocalpandemia; I’m pretty sure our household has helped those industries along ourselves. Here’s my funny (to me, but really just mainly awkward) I-bought-naughty-stuff story.

I bought a fucking machine. Yes. A machine that fucks. I’m not just using the word fucking as an expletive about a random machine, I bought a fucking machine, and get this, (gigglesnort) it’s called, “The Dicktator,” but I call him Burt (because of the standup comic Burt Kreischer and his “I am the machine” – Google it, it’s funny.). (I would like to apologize, I spend a lot more time alone these days and wooooo-boy! I find myself hilariously funny. I know from past experience that I’m my own best audience.)

Anywhoodle, this feels like a longer story than it needs to be – so, ordered this insanely expensive mechanical tool (giggle) and shipped it to the wrong address. I mean, it USED to be my address, but now I get mail delivery to the house (I live on an island, our set up is weird). So, I said, “OH NO!” and texted our very sweet, elderly, very religious mail lady (it’s a small island) and explained the package mixup. I did NOT explain the package contents and thankfully, she didn’t ask!

Happily, everything worked out okay in the end (snerk!) and I have had some most excellent threesomes with good ole’ Burt.

There is a LOT to unpack in this story, but I am stressed, so please forgive me for the excessive stream of consciousness that is about to vomit into this post.

So, while trying to fight the never ending entropy of mess that is the front porch, I saw the pathetic kitchen knife that the festering pustule on the taint of society brought to stab me or Darrin or whomever laying on the tile. I realized I needed to write this down.

I know, there’s a LOT more story to be told.

I have a neighbor, her name shall be J. J has a BF/ExBF who beats her. He is a festering pustule on the taint of society, but for the sake of brevity, his name shall be Pustule. J has issues and has a history of an abusive exs. And, like many people trapped in this shitty cycle, an unwillingness to press charges. I made it very clear that she has to save herself, to be her own hero. That she is worth saving, but that she HAS to be the one to do it.

Honestly, I don’t think it would have affected me so strongly if I hadn’t heard from an acquaintance that he beat one of their dogs to death. I do NOT like bullies.

I’ve learned a lot in just a few short days, I’ve learned:

1. I still become incredibly clear and calm during emergencies.
2. I have no hesitation when attempting to defend/avenge an animal. I was doing the whole smart safe we stay inside and call police approach. He came to the door and screamed and ranted and I did the whole, “you are unwelcome and need to leave. I’m calling police and if you refuse to leave I’m releasing the dogs (who were going batshit at that point).” He left, heading towards their home saying J would pay and she cried saying he was going to kill her dogs. To which I said, “okay, let’s go get the dogs.”
3. He went in their house and came back out with a knife (pathetic kitchen knife). I finally got dog loose (fucking rope fought me). He didn’t come after me, went towards vehicle and husband. He punched awkwardly at husband’s head and hit his ear (?!). I called police, he snatched and threw my phone fully destroying it and stomped back towards our house. I suggested hitting him with vehicle…..husband said no (he really *is* better than me in many ways).
4. Backing up my phone to a Gmail account and saving NOTHING locally just saves so much frustration. [Aside, I was making the mistake of saving web links on my homepage. Now I save everything as a bookmark.]
5. Once home, while the Pustule dragged his girlfriend back and forth demanding the keys to her vehicle, Darrin went in to call police. She had left the keys on the porch. I had hid them in the grill.
6. I really hate bullies and taunting that little shit to get his attention off J as he dragged that abused woman down my driveway by asking as to whether these were the keys the the pathetic little man wanted while jingling said keys was WAY more satisfying than it should have been.
7. I tried to remove the vehicle keys from the rest of the keys and he snatched them from me so I punched him. Seeing that Pustule’s absolutely stunned expression that someone would dare to hit back was soul-restoringly beautiful.
8. I’m still clutzy! That gods-forsaken bunched up rug on my front porch tripped me, but I took the Pustule down with me. ::grin::
9. My husband LOVES me. I mean like, WOWSA loves me. I know this because of his deep rage voice shaking the rafters with a “GET OFF MY WIFE!!!” right before the Pustule flew. (Husband was inside locating his phone and calling police; that stopped when he saw I was fighting.)
10. I know I’m my mother’s daughter because as I tripped over that muddaskunt rug on my front porch (that must be burned) and dragged Pustule down with me I thought, “right thumb in eye socket” and did it.
11. I know I’m an overthinker because I also thought, probably shouldn’t blind him permanently (hindsight: should have) and just slid right thumb into medial canthus instead.
12. My left hand was heading towards his testicles for destruction when the husband made him fly. I find it just a little disturbing that I had a very clear moment of regret when he flew that I didn’t get to maim him.
13. I know I LOVE my husband. I mean like, WOWSA love him. I know this because when Pustule attacked him post flight, I got close and bit the Pustule on the forehead (no, I don’t know why. But I couldn’t get to any other part of him and it seemed the thing to do. SMH). While they continued tussling I punched Pustule repeatedly in the kidneys. I’ve never claimed to fight fairly and cheap shots are acceptable while fighting a coked out abusive asshole.
14. I didn’t use my dogs. Could have, maybe should have… but I secured them in the bedroom because I didn’t want them to get hurt.

So, here I am one week and one day later, I believe Pustule is still un-captured. J posted two days ago that someone broke her windshield and she didn’t know who would have done such a thing (I have a guess ::eyeroll::). My phone has been replaced (yay insurance!) and my life appears to have gotten back to normal.

But a small part of me is sure this isn’t done, so if it isn’t and Pustule tries something stupid please know I will use every skill I have to protect me and mine while doing my damnedest to make that little pathetic bully pays some karmic debt.

Love y’all,

H.

I have a few bruises, but this one was oddly painful.

Poor phone.

I’m not really a dreamer.

I never have been. I remember my mother often talking about what she would do if she won the lottery and it was always a difficult thing for me to try to do. I have always let the universe guide (drag?) me wherever it did and I just make the best of it.

I think I just had my first ever day dream and it went something like, “holy crap that sounds amazing! I think I would really like this to happen! Yeeeeeessss!”

Now, please note – I am aware that it would be almost impossible for this to become reality. (Look at me, already killing off my very first “someday!”) But how amazing would it be to have a dog-training facility and dog park like this one?

https://dogsforlifevb.org/our-story/

Besides the training facilty, I would want to put in a self dog wash station, charge $15 or whatever to get the use of shampoo, conditioner, towels, and ergonomic wash the dog sink/tub (and rubber apron! LOL).

The dog park would be critical, I would want a water feature for the dogs to play in, a sand pit for them to dig in, LOTS of shade and seating. We could have a picnic-type area and fire pit area which could be rented out for dog-friendly private parties. Also, a doggie playground with some *very* basic agility equipment.

Inside the training facility there should be a dog training book lending library and reading nook – because that sounds amazing to me.

A comfortable barn-like dog boarding facility and an area to raise puppies to train for balance-assist and blood sugar alert service dog training for those in need, especially veterans and the elderly.

There it is, my dream. It would be a metric crap ton of work. But hey, maybe someday, right?