I May Be A Little Intense...
I am fairly certain it's the "no, REALLY, not the cute kind of crazy" in me.
Good morning, Bitchfaces. Y’all. And, of course, you sloppy tramps in the back row. Hope all y’all well, even you envious bitches who hate everything all the way down to my Olaplex.
I know. I probably would too. No, wait. That’s not true. But I do understand.
Now that we’ve finished with these formalities, I wanted to share why I was so absolutely tickled this evening. If any of you are with me on another platform, you know I run my show like an open book everywhere. I don’t compartmentalize my work and personal lives, they’re one and the same to me.
Some of the bitches in these very same colorful stories have pics of us on social media from 20 and 30 years ago. It doesn’t bother me an iota. I live my life today focused on that kind of transparency. When I was involved in pills, I couldn’t live this life.
Lots of secrets, lots of lies. We’ve talked about this.
So, with the exception of The Good Exes, there really is no one and no time period I won’t discuss openly. You cannot shame me, fucker, I literally wrote like 22 columns on the subject at hand in a three-year period, there isn’t a fucking thing left to say on it.
With that being said, anyone at any time can just pop right on up and say whatever in the fuck they please. Q, any social media, hell, right here in the comments, doesn’t bother me at all if you have an opinion on my life. Lots of folk do. Most of them are seated in the back row superpissed at how I manage to be so fucking certifiable and still look like a million dollars when I’m clearly eligible for a jello vacation at any given moment.
I’m committed to this level of crazy, y’all. It didn’t come easy, I fucking earned it. And I’m reminded of this when people outright refuse to say some shit I might take as off cuff to me in a public forum. I’m not just a psycho on paper. I’ll crank the fucking wood chipper right now, fuck these neighbors, come right here to the house and talk shit.
I said in a column last month, although I live a different life now, I’m not one for forgiveness. I’m one for fuck you. If you wronged me, like really went out of your way to try to hurt me, don’t think that my sobriety and all this do gooder shit I have going on has changed me into some sort of kumbaya chanting bitch who fancies knives in her back.
I may be trying to live like I have some sense about me, but that in no way should lead you to believe that I will not 100% turn this motherfucker into an out and out scene from Dexter if you fuck around. Luckily, there isn’t a whole lot that really hits that hot button with me now.
Stop laughing. I know, yes, I lose my shit like literally every fucking day, but it’s typically not a personal level type of commotion. You will not bring disloyalty or disrespect into my world, and that’s basically all I have for guidelines now.
They’re few, but I fucking mean it when I tell you it’s instant hot button shit. I put up with so much idiocy, so many liars and assholes and just genuinely bad people over the years, especially being involved in the drug trade. Junkie stunts, that’s what they’re called, and it’s a fucking performance art in itself. These fucking Bozos have a lie, excuse, or story for everything.
The peace and easy way I live now, that’s the best part of sobriety for me. Nobody trying to con drugs or money from me, nobody lying to me about what they owe me, or swear they never did owe me. And none of the outright disrespectful, stand right in your face and lie to me, don’t give a fuck if you live or die if you can’t do something for them, type of people.
Someone sent me a message tonight saying they had, since we last talked, also left the game and got sober. And asked if I would mind if he followed me, he saw I was doing well. I said, “you know you could have just done like everyone else and sent a fucking request, right?”
Dude actually said, “do you remember when you picked me up with a sawed off in a seatbelt like it was a child in your car?”
I do.
I almost said, bruh, I’m not that chic anymore. But that’s not really true. Because if you give me a reason, I will 100% strap a sawed off into the seatbelt like it’s in an infant carrier, I don’t give a fuck. I just don’t deal with many people who give me those kind of reasons anymore.
There aren’t many people who can ring the bell for my demons, and actually get them to answer the door. Not many, but that’s not none.
Point being, I congratulated him, and told him he was welcome to contact me within reason, I held no ill will at all. We were never on bad terms. But it made me laugh thinking about how truly out of pocket people believe me to still be that this dude, who isn’t on my short list of people you ought to be fucking with, checked himself so I didn’t.
That’s why I’m careful these days. I still legitimately don’t give a fuck at all. But I know what it leads to. I don’t have an off switch. I’m an angry woman in an instant, because people are so fucking stupid and disrespectful, self-serving and fucking full of shit. It just rubs me the wrong fucking way.
And I lose my patience. So, I’m glad I’m not in that lifetime anymore. I’m glad I am pretty fucking boring now. And I hope that I never have to strap a sawed off in like a child again.
But if the time should arrive, you should know, they knew better. They just did it anyway, because people are fucking stupid, and there’s nothing I can do to fix that.
They should be thankful I put the work into fixing me.
So, I legit called an ex out on Facebook last year (or the year before)... they all get mixed up. Anyway, I didn't use his name, but everyone knew, of course. His behavior was so fucking egregious, I just.could.not.even. Especially since he was telling me all the very personal secrets this chick he was planning to bang had told him about her life, and I was pissed about that. (Like, if you're telling me all her personal shit, who are you telling all my personal shit to? Also, she trusted you, and you're just repeating all this traumatic shit she told you.) Honestly one of the main reasons I made the post was to burn that fucking bridge down. But, even though I put this shit out there (and some of his friends were my FB friends), I did not ever once mention the name of the woman nor did I say what any of her secrets were. Because, my whole point was, don't go telling everyone else someone's personal business that they told you in confidence. So a couple people who saw the post were like, "Was that really a great thing to do?" (making the post). I was like, "A former me would've named his name, made the post public, and taken out a fucking ad in the newspaper. So, you're welcome!"
Jello vacation 💀💀💀💀