Show Me

Playlist update...

I was told this song was how someone felt about me.

As scary as that feels to type and as bad as it sounds...I assure you that we are just friends.

I like the song and here are the lyrics...

Carolina Liar "Show Me What I'm Looking For"

Wait, I'm wrong
Should've done better than this
Please, I'll be strong
I'm finding it hard to resist

So show me what I'm looking for

Save me, I'm lost
Oh Lord I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Oh Lord

Don't let go
I've wanted this far too long
Mistakes become regrets
I've learned to love abuse
Please show me what I'm looking for

Save me, I'm lost
Oh Lord I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Oh Lord

Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for

Save me, I'm lost
Oh Lord I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
To save me from being confused
Wait, I'm wrong
I can't do better than this
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused

Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Oh Lord

Thank you...you know who you are.

Seeing red in the white

The world around me slowly turned to white. She loves the snow as much as I do. And her eyes...the brightest blue...when she smiles took my breath away. Again.

I have to apologize. I hardly ever get angry. Maybe that is a mistake on my part. But today, all the pent up anger I have toward them simmered dangerously in my eyes, in my movements, and just on the tip of my tongue. She knew. She saw it, read it, felt it. Even through my denials.

"I've never seen you like this," she says. And I knew that it was no use trying to control it any longer.
I spoke the truth of my hate and watched as she shook and the sadness took over her eyes. But then she smiled and whispered, "I love you."

Words to live by. Words I live by.

Two Oh Oh!

Yep...welcome to the 200th installment of Life Of Times/On The Surface.


I have been racking my brain since my last entry on what I should write about. I totally missed the 100th entry. The 150th entry escaped me too. But I was paying attention and didn't want to miss this one.

I thought that maybe I should do a "Back Then" entry but decided against it. Not much of the past matters to me anymore. (Don't worry though, "Back Then" isn't over.) I went through all my drawings and paintings to see if they would be good for this post, but nothing caught my eye. Then I thought I could write about J and I, but I rarely do that here and it would seem out of place.

Then it came to me...last night before I fell asleep. I'm going to write about Starr, since she is the reason I started this blog in the first place. It seems fitting...

Several years ago, I parked my Freightliner car carrier in the center lane of Dixie Highway. I was delivering cars and the dealership had no unloading zone for us trucks. It was the worst place in the world to be unloading cars. Only inches separated me from the speeding traffic on either side of my truck. But JM was one of my best customers and when he called, I never failed to show.

I pulled a 7 car Miller behind my truck and I was busy unloading the bottom rack, working the controls to the hydraulics to get the top rack high enough so I could unload. I popped the ratchet and was about to lean over to unhook the chain when pain lanced through my back like someone had just snapped an over-large rubber band across my back. It took my breath away and I turned my head in time to see a yellow SUV speeding off. I knew what happened. The driver skimmed me with his mirror.


I shook my head and stepped onto the bottom rack as more speeding cars passed so I could catch my breath. My back was stinging so bad. Finally feeling normal, I stepped back out to the road and unhooked the last of the chains. I jumped in the car and started to back off when a car pulled up behind me with its flashers on.



I sat in the car and waited, hoping they would realize that I was unloading and to move their car. A minute later, this drop dead gorgeous woman stepped out of the BMW with a cell phone to her ear. Curious, I jumped out the car I was in and met her at the back of the truck. She hung up the phone and she looked at me like she was furious and about to kick my ass. No fear though, I stepped up to her.



"Can I help you?" I asked. She looked like the 'take no shit' type so I acted accordingly. Held my head up high and stood with purpose.


All that anger in her face vanished. "Are you okay? I saw that guy hit you. I got his tag number and tried to get him to stop at the next light."


She said it in one long breath and I laughed, carefully. She did look like she was pretty mean, even under her apparent concern for my well-being.



"I'm fine. It only stung for about a minute."

"You got a cell? We should call the cops. I'm your witness."

"Nah, really. I'm fine. Besides, if I call the cops, they'll give me a ticket for unloading here."


Who knew that that would be the beginning of our friendship. We chatted for about thirty minutes, exchanged numbers, and made plans to hang out. I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we have been best friends ever since.

To Starr...and thank you for the push you gave me to start this thing. LYMY!

Voyeur

I lit a smoke and stepped out to the porch. It wasn't too cold for a change but I knew that that would be a different story later. There was a light breeze from the west and in my head, I was humming that new tune I wrote that hasn't yet escaped my mind.
More squirrels crossed the driveway, playing a game of tag it seemed as they jumped over and onto each other only to get up and do it again. They chased each other up the huge tree in our front yard and it brought my attention to the bright orange and red leaves.
The leaves danced, a sensual dance that could be compared to a mating ritual in some cultures and I watched like a voyeur secretly hoping that they would kiss before they fell to the waiting earth. The tune they danced to matched the tune in my head and I was entranced and found myself swaying with them, trying to join their ritual.
And the breeze brought in a gust of cooler air, trying its hardest to snap me out of my trance. But the leaves moved more and kept my attention as the cigarette between my fingers was neglected. My sway made me dizzy but their sway kept me grounded. For a moment, I wanted to be that tree with all those beautiful leaves dancing all over my branches. I imagined that it might tickle just a bit but I'm sure it would still be soothing.
That smoke in my hand finally gave up and burnt out as I took a breath of clean, crisp air. I rocked on my heels and smiled before I turned around and opened the door.

My only thought...it is a great day to be alive.

The thinker

"They want me to be a breeder. Not a thinker. Not a leader." Otep Shamaya ~ Def Poetry Jam ~ From "Dedicated To My Enemy" (Video at the bottom)

I was tagged in one of those "All about me" questionnaires on Facebook. And that line above was part of one of my answers.

Well, that brought on all kinds of thoughts about my parents and the way I was raised.
They didn't raise me to be a breeder. They raised me to be an individual. They raised me to be independent. They raised me to make my own choices and live with the consequences. They raised me to be strong and wise, kind and generous, understanding and compassionate. Maybe I shouldn't say "they" because really, it was just my mom for the most part.
It is true, my dad wasn't the greatest of fathers. There are things that I will never be able to speak of and things that I wish I could forget.
But on the other hand, there are a few things that, when I think back, make me smile. Like going to the beach late at night with my parents. Dad and I digging in the sand, making tunnels. And when Dad signed me up for MX racing and told me not to tell Mom. And how he was so proud of me when I was asked to be on TM Race Team, earning my spot along side of the guys. And the day he brought me my first acoustic guitar. A full size red Palmer that I still have and is as good as new. And the day he gave me my first pieces of jewelry. A gold necklace with a crucifix charm and a St. Christopher charm, (just like his) that up until a few years ago, I wore everyday of my life.
When I decided to come out, I told him first. My reasoning was cold - I told him because he was my crash test dummy, so to speak. I didn't care if our relationship was ruined and he disowned me. His reaction would determine on whether or not I came out to anyone else.
And my mom. She might not have liked the fact that I was such a tomboy. She would cringe when I told her of things I did or was planning to do. You should have seen her face the day I came home telling her all about the monster size concrete pools I was skateboarding in, or when I told her that I cleared the doubles on my ATC with no hands, or when I told her about getting the Camaro under 11 seconds in the quarter mile. She hated it because of fear that I would be injured or worse - but she never told me I couldn't do it. She would just encourage me to do other things too. Like drawing and painting and writing. My first dream journals came from her. Or my music. My first electric guitar and practice amp (both I still have) came from her.

Neither one of them tried to force me into dresses. They didn't take away my Tonka toys and Hot Wheels and exchange them for Barbies. They didn't make me ride the pink bike with the girly bar. They loved me and let me be me - the person I am today.

I guess my point is...my parents (mom) didn't raise me to be a girl that was to grow up and be a housewife with 2.5 kids and commit/submit to a man that I would call my husband. They raised me to be what ever I wanted to be. They raised me to be a thinker, a leader, completely at ease and in support of my androgyny and my gender-bending-rule-breaking ways. They always supported my ideals...how a girl could do what a guy could do and, at times, even better and how I really COULD do anything. There was never "girls can't do that" or "why don't you play with dolls instead." There was never "I don't think you can or should."

I have my good days and my bad ones. Sometimes I'm contradicting. Maybe even hypocritical and ignorant, but that's okay. That just means I'm human.

No...I was lucky and I am thankful for this every single day. Because of this I am: an artist, a musician, a writer, a dreamer, a dare-devil risk taker, a fearless competitor, a speaker, a seeker, never a follower/always a leader, a friend, a listener, an adventurer, a partner, a lover, a fighter. I stand up for what I believe in. I am ME and I don't want to be YOU or anyone else.


Thanks for listening...

Stories

Since I set the playlist on random, I figured I better go ahead and explain the songs. One at a time.

One night in October, about five years ago, J, cousin Jane, and I were roaming through Walmart. We were just stirring up trouble (playing football in the isles and hide and seek - I'm a kid at heart) and Jane runs into this girl. Leave it to Jane to find the only other lesbian in the entire store.

But this one was young. Only 16 but she was adorable. Short blond hair, tank top, cargo shorts, and she had a hammer in her eyebrow. Yeah, a small little hammer that graced the piercing of her eyebrow. Cute. We were introduced and found out her name was Gab.

Long story short - Gab and Jane hooked up but it was short lived. Gab was a follower and Jane had no room in her life for people that didn't think for them selves. Jane left to go back to her home and Gab, well, we stayed friends.

She enjoyed playing guitar and on a few occasions, called me up to see if I would jam with her. The very first song we learned together was "Stories" by Trapt. I had never heard the song before and after hearing it once, I was addicted. Just a song about a story of the past that he's trying to break away from...but yet, still wants.

If you think about it, all of our lives are stories. Each memory, each day...all stories. And its up to us to make our story different than the rest. I've been striving to make my story unique from the day I was born. Its not the same story as yours, but its my story.

I still talk to Gab every now and then. Funny, she moved from Florida and now lives in Georgia too. We haven't seen each other in a while, but we still tell each other our stories from time to time. We even talk about "Stories" and I thank her for introducing me to a great song. Lyrics:

I found a line and then it grew, I found myself still thinking of you
I felt so empty and now I'm fine But still it's burning, when will you be mine?

Too much of the same stories in our lives
I think it's time for change, don't you?
Too much of the same stories in our lives
(I think it's time for us to walk away from here)
Stories in our lives, we keep them all inside

Look at me still in your mind, Our memories so intertwined
Well you broke through and found your way
And so did I no need to stay
The same old picture, tried and true
Been through there, let's look for something new

Too much of the same stories in our lives
I think it's time for change, don't you?
Too much of the same stories in our lives
(I think it's time for us to walk away from here)

Do you remember lying on the beach so late at night
Do you remember running through the sprinklers that night
Do you remember all the songs that I have wrote for you,
All the songs that I have wrote for you (For you)
I remember,the way you made me feel when I was with you
I remember,the smile that always brought me back to you
That look in your eyes, I never thought that this could be untrue
(Untrue Do do da dado do da dado do da dado do da dado yeah yeah yeah)

Too much of the same stories in our lives
I think it's time for change, don't you?
Too much of the same stories in our lives (I think it's time for us to walk away from here)
AS RECORDED BY TRAPT

Change your story...

Giving Thanks

Starr left me this morning, heading back to sunny south Florida. I miss her already.

Starr, she's kind of like me, a positive thinker and can always find the good in every thing and every body. Even she struggled with what I'm dealing with right now. But, as always, she tried to help me turn it all around in my head to make it a little easier to deal with.

"You gotta stay positive," she told me. The same words that J just echoed.

Although it sounds easy enough, it is hard as hell when the negative is staring you in the face and breathing down your neck constantly.

I have been trying everything. My best defense is to just ignore. I have had tons of practice at that. Ask me how I lived with my mother for all those years (she pulls the negative from everything and harps on it) one of these days. But even ignoring this has been rather difficult.

I have never hated, truly hated anyone or anything my entire life. Not even my ex or my father, which once I get through the story (back then) you will understand what I mean. I disliked God for a couple of years when she took away someone who meant everything to me but once I figured out that it was the way it was supposed to be, I forgave and asked to be forgiven. Hate would be such an easy and somewhat satisfying way to deal with this. But hate is negative and the more negative you allow in your life, the worse life is.

I really don't want my life to take that turn. I've learned my lesson. I guess I will just have to figure it out. Figure out a way I can deal with this without going postal or entering the downward spiral. And with friends like Starr and a girl like J, I know it is possible.

Starr, thank you so much for jumping on that plane and being here before I could blink. Thank you for the late night talks. Thank you for the early morning reasoning's. Thank you for the drunken I love you's. Thank you for everything. Most of all, thank you for loving me this *stretching arms as far wide as I can* much. Because I love you twice as much.

Delicate Life

Forget all about all those things I said I would be posting about (even though I never explained what they were) because I need to write a little bit about my sister.

In mid June of 1987, my dad and his wife (not my mom) rushed to the hospital. His wife was having complications with her pregnancy. I, the oldest of us all at the young age of 11, was left to watch my younger brother and my two younger step-sisters. We were scared because we knew that if the baby came on that night, she would be almost two months early.

Step-mom was real sick and they decided to keep her in the hospital. Finally, at the end of June, our sister was born. She was small but the doctors said she was a fighter...if they only knew how true their words were. We got to see pictures because the doctors had to keep her for a while. Dad said that because we were her sisters and brother, that we would get to name the newest member of our family.

We all wrote down a series of names...one favorite was Shit Head (dad's contribution)...and gave the list to Dad. He took it to the hospital and step-mom read over the list. She picked one and Dad agreed. They called us up to tell us the news. I was more than shocked to find out that they picked the name I had wrote. More than that, I was kind of honored.

So Lisa got to come home about a month later. She was strong and beautiful and Dad said she looked just like me. She was the coolest thing to all of us kids. We spent the entire rest of the summer in the house watching her constantly. We were afraid that if we left her side, we would miss a cool new sound or facial expression she would make.

But then, summer ended and me and bro had to go back home to Mom's and go back to school. We rarely got to see her after that. Christmas and a few weekends here and there. And every time we did see her, it seemed that she had grown so much more than the time we saw her last.

Newborn was suddenly 4. I was tangled in my out of control life and my brother was entering the gang scene. Lisa would call our house and if we weren't there, she would talk to our mom. Whether it was us or Mom, the conversation was always the same. Lisa would tell us how she always had a stomach ache, how she would get sick, and how she would fall down a lot.

We had known that Dad had been taking her to the doctor for these problems but the doctors were stumped. Six months and countless "lets try this" remedies and she was still sick and seemed to be getting worse. Finally, one doctor got smart and sent her for a brain scan.

Everything went in fast forward from there. She was rushed to the best children's hospital in Florida, Miami Children's Hospital, because she was in need of emergency surgery to remove a tumor in her four year old little head that was the size of a grapefruit. Yes...that big.

Mom drove Bro and I down there because we had to give blood in case...just in case they needed it.
The surgery took hours but it seemed like days but sometime in the middle of the night, the doctors walked in to the waiting room where our entire family...I mean everyone...waited on the edge of our seats.

The surgery was a success, he said, and they got the entire tumor removed. We had to wait for the tests to find out if it was cancer. But then he said something that I don't think any of us believed. "She might not know who you are when you see her. She will have to learn to talk and walk again and there is a possibility that she might never do either ever again. She's not going to be the same."

Bullshit, I thought. Not my little sister. She's a fighter and she's strong. You'll see, I told the doctor. I think he brushed me off thinking I was just some crazy teenager with a bad attitude and a loud mouth. But I knew my sister...he had no idea.

Bro and I and many of our family members spent three weeks in that waiting room. We slept there, ate there, and took drive-by-trucker baths in the sinks. The outcome was that there was no cancer, and we were relieved, but she still wasn't awake long enough to see what the effects of the surgery were.

Lisa loved to hear me sing. Her favorite song for me to sing was "Sweet Child of Mine," by Guns and Roses. So when it was my turn to sit with her during the day, I would sit there holding her little hand and sing it to her until I couldn't sing anymore.

I had just finished the song for the fourth time and was taking a break because my throat was sore. I started to get up and let go of her hand but she gripped my fingers so hard it almost brought me to my knees. "Again," she demanded. "Again."

Its hard to sing when you are crying but I pulled it off and when I finished she sat up in her bed and said, "I want a Big Mac."
She had the entire room laughing through their tears as she demanded all these silly things from all of us. She was a little mean but cute as hell. And I turned around and smiled at that doctor. "I told you."

Except for the shaved head and the new strength (from steroids they had to give her for the swelling), you would have never known there was ever anything wrong with her. When they finally let her go home, she would call me from time to time and make me sing so she could fall asleep. Her hair grew back and it covered the scars. She was back to her normal self in the blink of an eye.

Lisa just turned 22. She's married and has a beautiful daughter who turned one this year. Dad says she is just like me in so many ways that we should have been twins. Yeah, I'm proud of that. She calls me every chance she gets and we have our song that thankfully she no longer makes me sing (at least not every time we talk) but we do laugh about it. I'm proud of her and everything she has accomplished her life so far. Most of all, I'm proud to say she's my sister.

And when she calls me and says, "I'm so sorry to call you up and just vent." I tell her, "Don't worry about it. That's what sisters are for." I'll laugh and then she'll tell me, "You are the only one who can make me feel better, the only one I can talk to about this world of complications that I call life."

And I tell her, "I will always be here for you, no matter what. Even if its just to sing you that damn song."
She'll say, "See, I feel better already."

This is the message she sent me on facebook after I had missed her call and wrote to her giving her my new cell number: "Love you and miss you too...I hope all is well. I hope to talk to you soon...I really need my sister to talk to right now. TTYL"

And after we talked she sent this: "Thanks...I am glad that I got to hear you. It has been so long since I spoke to you. I just felt better being able to talk to you. Thanks again....Love you."

I thank God everyday that my little sister, the one I almost lost at the young age of four, is able to call me up and unload her problems whenever she needs to...even if I have to sing that damn song.

Life is too short...Live it, dream it, BE IT!

*squint*

Today I am...

completely incomplete...

perfectly imperfect...

dreaming with my eyes wide open...

satisfyingly unsatisfied...

and J loves me.

What more can I say

6 points to A1A

I met Starr first. And then, slowly, the rest of the Crazy Lesbian Circus gals appeared. They came to be some of the best friends I've ever had. And they really know how to have fun!



The plan was to head out to five points and then maybe hit up a few places on Las Olas. But...we had to get out of Starr's house first.



A thing or two about Starr. She is drop dead gorgeous. Amazing on the inside. And filthy rich...or as she would say, "living comfortable." She is a writer. Not just books, but articles for papers and she even wrote some of that TV show stuff. She's smart, beautiful. The total package.



Starr's house is like a huge grown-ups playground. You can play any of the game systems on a screen that is like 10 feet tall and 15 feet wide. She has a room full of musical equipment that she hardly knows how to play. There are secret doors and slides and a huge room full of really big pillows. (The best pillow fighting arena in the world.) Surfing out her back door and even a quarter pipe for all your skateboarding/rollerblading/bicycling needs. Its crazy. She even has her own bar. Like a real dance club in her house. So why go anywhere else?



Eye candy. Five points is crawling with it. Its kind of in the center of Broward County's gayest city. We call it five points but the city does have a name. I'll make you look it up. There are a few lesbian bars, good eats, and, like I already said, eye candy. (I swear I didn't look at a single girl J.)

Finally convinced that we really needed to leave Starr's place, we headed to five points. A quick bite at Rosie's and we headed across the street. Packed, shoulder to shoulder, we finally made our way to the bar. Totally standing room only. By a quick nodded agreement, we left. Crutches in a packed bar = not too easy.

We checked a few of the other places we used to hang out. Not as packed but not as full either. Next stop, Las Olas. By this point, my shoulders were burning from walking with the crutches so Bruiser, being the gentleman she is, gave me a piggyback ride. Yes...I said piggyback. Candy and Ash carried my crutches and alternately took turns jabbing me and Bruiser in the ass with them.

We finally found a hopping place that wasn't overflowing and staked claim on a table near the front. Most of the Circus girls were doing shots as I told them about the ATV track I was thinking about building. Me, Candy, and Ash were doing shots of Red Bull just for laughs.

Leave it to Bruiser to spot a damsel in distress while we are out having a good time. One thing led to another and we were all outside stopping some guy from slapping his girl around. Turned out, the guy had a lot of friends. Ten of us and fifteen or so of them and their bitchy girlfriends. Lucky for them, the cops showed up just in time. (You'd have to know Bruiser to understand why I said lucky for THEM...lol.) Lucky for us though...I knew one of the officers. The officer was married to a long-time family friend. So he let us go.

We headed to the strip and my piggyback ride was attracting attention. Tourists with their camera's...sheeesh! I'm pretty sure some weirdo will post a picture of my ass in their "Our trip to Ft. Lauderdale" photo album. Hell, it might have even been in the newspaper...lol. I can see the headline now: Girl With Broken Leg Gets Carried Down Ft. Lauderdale Strip By An Insanely Muscular Butch Woman. Insanely might be pushing but...I love you Bruiser.

After a few more drinks here and there, we ended up on the wall watching the bobbing lights of the cargo ships as they entered and exited the port. I listened as each of the girls told me why I needed to move back to Florida. As convincing and logical as all their reasons were, I had to shoot them down. At least for a little while. I stressed the fact that I really needed the stress free living right now and they finally let it be.

Memories to note:
Candy trying to break dance with my crutches.
Bruiser shaking her ass on the dance floor.
Starr's stalker.
Dimes and Lani's kiss that earned them twenty-six bucks from the college guys that wouldn't stop drooling.
Peace trying to sweet talk the cops before she figured out they were letting us go.
And Walker's 'never ending story' rendition of why she refuses to get into another relationship and the way she moved when we dropped the ice down the back of her shirt. (I swear it was Candy's idea.)

My applause ladies.

By the end of the night...or maybe it was early morning...me, Candy, and Ash were bouncing off the walls while the rest of the crew was holding them up. I swear I will never touch another Red Bull as long as I live. It's worse than the diesel fuel coffee that they sell in truck stops.

Thanks guys!

Beach Party

It wouldn't be a great trip to Florida without hanging out with my Circus Gals.

Okay...there were several reasons and many people that made it a good trip but, according to the CLC, they are the only ones that count.


First, I must set the scene. Without revealing Starr's identity and address I can only tell you that she has an amazing house right on the ocean, north of the lighthouse. Private beach, lots of alcoholic beverages, crazy surfing on ripples, and a live band that happened to be the band Lani (Dimes' girl) drums for.

Starr kidnapped me. Picture a mob kidnapping with a blindfold and all. She must have rode around in circles to try to throw me off but I knew we'd be going to her place. Its true, she can't hide anything from me. Besides, its not a party if it isn't at her place.

I'd be lying if I said that I lingered in the house to say hello to all the faces that I haven't seen in a few months. Hell no. I went straight out the back door to the ocean. Starr definitely has one of the best slices of the beach anyone could ever hope to own. At least on the East side. I was tempted again to dive right in but I had forgotten my cast protector thing and, well, Walker was half dragging me back inside.

After about three dozen hugs and hello's, the band started in. Fucking amazing! And Lani is totally Animal on that set. I completely understand how she landed the unlandable Dimes. Anyway...I figured out that dancing on crutches kills your shoulders and that I suck at it. But it was still mad fun and I think I danced with everyone. I think.

I stayed away from the alcohol. Starr, being the coolest friend anyone could buy (inside joke), stayed sober with me (Candy and Ash were sober too). It wasn't long before the party moved to the beach. The boards came out and the half-assed surfing started. It was like a comedy fest. I don't think a single person stood for a wave (ripple) but it was hilarious watching them try.

Okay...it was about that time that I started really missing J. Thank the Goddess I wasn't drinking because I might have been a mess. And like she knew I was missing her pretty bad, J called. We got that connection. After my not-so-short but very sweet phone call, the sun had gone down and we moved to the fire pit. That quickly turned into a marshmallow fight that I completely lost since everyone was aiming for me, except me. Oh, and they weren't throwing the big marshmallows since those were for charring. Nope, they were throwing mini's. Mini's that, when I got home, I found in my hair, down my shirt, in my pockets, and one was in my shoe. (Thanks ladies.) It came close to turning into a fire breathing contest when someone found a bottle of 151.

It was a great time as usual. And it ended with a speed filled spin on the back of Candy's bike.
Thanks again, Starr and my fellow clowns from the Crazy Lesbian Circus. And don't worry, I'll write about our night at five points later...lol.

Real Quick

THANK YOU!!!!!!

I'm sending this HUGE thank you out to all the people that wasn't thanked for something they should have been thanked for today. I might have no idea what you did or said but I fell you deserve to be thanked.

Thank you to Merc. And a even bigger thank you to Sheila for all her hard work.

Thank you all and thank you universe!

I promise I will have a real post later...honest.