Adrenaline Rush--Make Me Feel Alive

I’m neither wicked nor cruel, but I hunger for the unexpected. Racing does not interest me, yet I attend it often, hoping to see a huge pile up of cars. Or see one crash, sending flames high into the air. I also go to bullfights to see if perhaps one of the bulls might go wild and mangle or gore those who are trying to kill it. But its calculated bloodshed was mundane, too controlled to really enjoy. Meaningless suffering revolts me; I crave the thrill of a sudden catastrophe.

Ten years after waiting, I finally got to see a huge pile up of cars that caused a huge explosion. Several drivers were injury, but nothing very serious. Soon afterwards, I saw a matador gored repeatedly, and then throw 50 feet through the air. Afterwards I fell in a deep depression and lost interest in watching cars race and matadors killing bulls.

One morning I saw a poster of a cyclist who was planning on riding down a slanted track, and then go through a circular loop that plummeted straight down. The newspapers ran the story explaining that the cyclist intended to ride down the dangerous route in front of a live audience.

“When I reach the loop," he told reporters, “you’ll actually see me round it upside down!” The press was invited to inspect the track and the bicycle.

“I use no mechanical trickery, or wires,” the daredevil bragged, “nothing but precise scientific calculation. That and my ability to keep up my nerve.”

When I read the article, my good spirits returned. I immediately went to buy a ticket. I did not want my attention distracted when the rider looped the loop, so I purchased an entire box of seats opposite the track and sat alone on opening night. After a suspenseful wait, the cyclist appeared high above the audience at the top of the track. A moment of tense anticipation, then down he went. As promised, he circled the loop with head underneath and feet in the air--and then it was all over.

The performance certainly thrilled me, but as I exited with the crowd, I knew I might experience the same intense sensation once or twice more and then, as always the feeling would die. Still...bicycles break, road surfaces wear out...and no man’s nerve hold out forever. Sooner or later, there must be an accident.

The cyclist was scheduled to perform for the next three months and then move onto another town. I decided to go to every single performance, even if I had to follow the show to the next town. I bought the same row of seats for the entire time he was to be in my town, and sat in the same seat night after night.

One evening two months later, the performance had just ended and I was on my way out when I noticed the cyclist in one of the corridors of the auditorium. I walked up to him, but before I could utter a word, the cyclist stuck out his hand to greet me.

“I know you. You come to my show every night.”

“That’s true. Your remarkable feat fascinated me, but who told you I’m always here?”

“No one,” the rider smiled. “I see you myself.”

“But how can you, being up so high? At such a moment, are you actually able to study the audience?”

The cyclist laughed. “No. It would be dangerous for me to look at a crowd shifting and moving around. But there is something I do which the public is unaware of.” The cyclist wink. “This will be our little secret, okay? When I mount my bicycle and grasp the handlebars, I never worry about my own strength and coordination, but the total concentration the ride demands concerns me. It’s almost impossible for me to empty my mind of all but one idea. My greatest danger is that my eyes may stray. So, here’s my trick -- I find one spot in the auditorium and focus all my attention on it. The first time I rode in the hall, I spied you in your box and chose you as my spot. The next evening, there you were again.”

The next night I sat in my customary seat. The usual excitement filled in around my row of seats. A hush fell when the rider made his entrance, a black speck far overhead. Two men held his bicycle. The cyclist gripped the handlebars, stared out over the heads of the crowd and shouted the signal. The men gave the bike a shove.

At that instant, I rose and walked over to a different seat. The audience screamed as the cycle and rider shot off the track and plunged into the middle of the crowd. Smiling, I put on my jacket, and walked away.

Death Waits and Lingers

Truth or Reality

I'm lost somewhere inbetween.

Have you been to the edge? Crossed over, and felt the cold steal metal in your hand as you slide the razors sharp edge across your body? Watched as you skin spreads apart and reveals the blood soaked tender tissue below?

Have you ever held a weapon so tightly in your hands, that not even God himself could pry it away from you? Holding the gun to your head, finger on the trigger…asking out loud …is Today the day? Would anybody notice? Would anybody REALLY care?

Have you ever taken one too many pills, but then discovered even that one more wasn’t enough? Have you ever thought about refusing to sign that speeding ticket, forcing the officer into a confrontation to end your years of torment? Are you willing to admit that you’re that much of a chicken?

What about a rope? Cutting off your air supply and letting your body freely swing through the air? Do you find peace?

These are just a few of the ways that I have thought about ending my life. Everyday at least once without warning or thought, I think about suicide. Sometimes a place, a smell, a sound, or a person will remind me of something from my past. And for those brief few seconds, sometimes minutes, sometimes hours, even all day sometimes, I think about death.

Chicken Pen

This is fiction...or is it?



Everyone in the house had gotten up early that morning and left for school or work. I had woke up feeling sick, but more than anything I was having severe cramps from just starting my 2nd period ever. At the last minute I convinced Mom to let me stay home from school, by saying I was having bad diarrhea. It worked because she saw me go the bathroom 4 or 5 times, she thought I was using the toilet, but I was adjusting the tampon that seemed to be making me sick to my stomach. My father had already left for work an hour earlier and wasn't to be back home until after 6pm on that day, so I would have the house to myself until at least 4pm when Mom, my brothers and sisters would all get home.


I laid down in bed and covered my head as I listened to sounds of family driving away. Once I was sure they were far enough away, I quickly got up and fixed myself a bowl of cereal and took 2 ibuprofen for the pain in my stomach. It wasn't long before I was feeling well enough to play the music on the stereo loud enough that if someone had lived within a mile of us that could have heard it bumping with a thunderous bass sound. I dance about crazy and wild, doing moves that I would never consider doing in front of someone.


I continued dancing until the water I had placed on the stove to heat up was ready. We didn't have a shower or any hot water, so the best way for me to get cleaned up was by heating a large boiling pot on the stove in the kitchen, then carry it to the bathroom and dump it into a larger container that sat in the bottom of the tub. I would then add cold water from the well that had natural spring water flowing into it at all times, to bring it to a temperature that was comfortable.


I stripped naked, stepped into the tub and began pouring water over my head from yet another pan. I tried to let as much water as possible drain back into the large bucket sitting in the tub, so that I would have enough to wash and rinse my hair and then wash the rest of my body. It usually took all the water and sometimes a little extra cold water from the faucet to feel completely clean.


After I finished cleaning up, I got dressed and then headed outside with my book Little House on the Prairie. I had a favorite spot where I liked to read, where no one knew I was there. It was on top of the chicken pen on the south side of the house. One day I had gotten mad at everyone and decided to 'disappear', and that was the place I had chosen to hide.


On top I could see everyone around me, without them seeing me. I spent time there watching Mom hang clothes on the clothesline, my father feeding the chickens and gathering eggs, I watched my brothers using their knives to cut down small branches to make into swords, I saw my sister playing with her dolls near a small garden. I could watch the world from there, and I loved how that made me feel.


There was a tree behind the chicken pen that made it easy for me to crawl up on top, so I found myself spending a lot of my time there alone reading and watching others. I brought an old blanket and my pillow so I could lay down and get very comfortable for a couple of hours. I only had a few chapters left in the book, so I hoped I could complete it before anyone got back.
It was still before noon when I finished the book, but I decided to stay on top of the chicken house a little long and soak up sun. I had almost falling asleep when I heard someone coming down the driveway. My first thought was that it was some stranger who had lost his way. As I listened to the vehicle coming closer I began to entertain even crazier thoughts of it being a murderer looking for his next target. Whoever it was, I didn't want to take a chance of being found home alone, so I stayed hid on top of the chicken pen and watched until whoever was coming down the road came into view.


My heart raced wildly when I saw it was my father in his truck. Fear over took me, and I began thinking about ways to escape in case he saw me. I didn't want to spend time alone with him. I was frighten to death of him. I never knew what he would try to do to me or what kind of weird off the wall kind of things he would try to make me do when no one was around.


The thoughts made my heart beat so fast from the adrenaline rush, that I thought it was going to explode. I was taking in deep breaths as if someone was choking me. After a couple more deep breathes I got up enough nerve to look over the top of the pen again and see what my father was doing. I watched as he began getting something out of the passengers seat that was wrapped up with a old blanket that had been in the back of his truck for weeks. I kept my eyes peeled on what he was doing, but keeping myself laying down as flat as possible so he couldn't possible spot me.


Fear rushed throughout my body when I saw him carrying what he had towards my direction. I ducked completely down and just listened to sounds of him coming closer. I heard him walk through the door opening into the chicken pen, and then I heard the sound of him opening the door to the inner part of the pen. It was the area just below where I was laying, the area where my father had many times brought deer that he had illegally killed out of season, or just a extra untagged one during the season.


I once had to hold the flashlight for my father as he hoisted a deer by the hide legs up into the air with a rope. He then took out a very sharp, large hunting knife and split the deer open from between its legs. All the while he would direct me where to point the light, and tell me to make sure I kept my mouth shut so that he didn't get into any kind of trouble with the law.


It wasn't deer season, but that was my first thought when I heard the sounds of him hoisting something up into the air using the rope that always hung over a set of steel rods that my father had put up in between two 4X8 beams. It was solid enough that you could swing back and forth on the ropes. But most of the time you couldn't stand being in the room for very long because it was always so hot inside. In the room there was only one very small window that was barely big enough to stick your head out of it. Not even big enough to escape out of if the need ever came.


After several minutes I became curious enough to look through one of the several small nail holes that were all over the top of the pen. I could see my father with his penis out of this pants, stroking it as he stood there staring in one direction. I quietly moved over to another nail hole and look down. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head when I looked down and saw a young girl with brown hair and blood coming out of her mouth, hanging like a deer by her wrist high in the air. She looked like she had been beaten severely, until she became unconscious. I could hear small moans, but no words that I could understand. I watched with my eyes wide, not really believing what I was seeing, but scared to move in fear of getting caught and being the one hanging there.


My father moved into the picture and I could see and hear him slapping her hard across various parts of her body. He bit her hard on her nipples until both of them were bleeding. When he began having sex with her I turned away, no longer able to look at her suffering. I felt so sorry for her, but I was so scared and I knew there was nothing except for killing him that I could do to save her.


Since we lived so far out in the country we didn't have a phone. There were no lines that ran out that far, so if we wanted one, the phone company told Mom that they would have to pay to put up the lines, which cost several hundred dollars. Of course we never managed to save up that much money, so calling for someone to come rescue her was out of the question.


When I looked down again he was anal raping her with part of a old shovel handle. I could hear her crying out as he shoved it up her repeatedly. It was then that her eyes opened and we made eye contact. Our eyes wide, staring at each other, she began begging for my father to stop what he was doing. She looked directly at me, and screamed, "please help me, don't let him kill me!"

My father stopped what he was doing and looked up. I rolled over and away from the hole, looking for a possible escape, but making a lot of noise on the tin roof as I did. There was no where for me to go to get away quick enough without him spotting me, still I tried. I made it half way down the side of the tree when I felt him grabbing me by the legs. He pulled me hard and I tumbled down and hit the ground with a hard thump. He held the gun down near my face and asked me what the hell I was doing home. I got to barely explain before he grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled in towards the door of the chicken pen.


"I promise I won't say anything! Please don't kill me!" I screamed from the bottom of my soul.

"Shut the fuck up and do as I fucking say!" he screamed at me as he jerked my head around.

He pulled me inside to the area where the strange girl hung silently in the air. Blood was draining down her legs from where the shovel handle was still stuck up inside of her.

"So you want to watch? Huh? Well watch this."

He then shoved the handle of the shovel all the way up inside of her, and she let out a loud scream that terrified me so much that I started shaking uncontrollably.

"Please just let her go." I begged. "Don't hurt her anymore. Stop making her suffer."

"Suffer?! Who cares if this whore suffers. She's just a piece of trash. Why don't you just put a end to her suffering? You're a part of this now. You know all about it. End it for her."

My father then grabbed his gun from the corner and put it in my hands.

"Just pull the goddamn trigger! Do you want to be the one laying there?"

I felt cold, distant. I couldn't take my eyes off of her eyes and the tip of the shotgun that was pressed hard between her two amber colored eyes. She looked at me and moaned deeply, begging for life without the use of words. I wanted to look away, walk away, run far to the ends of the earth and just jump off.

My father shouted at me with a voice that was more terrifying than dieing. "You better do it. If not I'm going to do to you, all the things I did to her. Do you fucking understand me? Now pull the goddamn trigger!"

He was holding the gun in my hands so tight that they had become numb, almost frozen in place. For a brief moment my heart stop beating. I didn't breathe. There was no sounds. Then it was all over. Blood poured from the wound, and gagging, bubbling sounds escaped from her mouth. Her eyes stared wide, directly looking into my eyes, looking for some type of hope. Some last chance. She grasp for one last breath of air and then her eyes lowered. I turned and vomited hard, falling down to my knees as I did.

My father untied her hands and let her drop to the floor as I stood there in shock. He wrapped her up in the blanket that he had carried her into the chicken pen with, and then through her over his shoulder. He picked up his 20 gauge and walked back to his truck and through her into the back. I recovered enough that I managed to get to my feet and walk outside. I met him half way between the chicken pen and his truck when he again grabbed me by my hair.

"You better keep this to yourself! If you tell anyone, anyone!! I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life locked up somewhere. I'll let them know you were the one who killed her, and you'll spend the rest of your life in jail getting fucked in the ass by some guards. Do you hear me Tayla? Keep you fucking mouth shut! Now as far as anyone knows I wasn't here today, so you better not tell anyone I was even home. Do you understand me?" He then yanked on my hair hard until I agreed.

Fear of my fathers rage, I did as I was ordered.

Stalking Coplounge

Just as I figured I wouldn’t be getting an apology. My friend told me she talked to, bored out of her mind apparently, Officer D again, because she didn’t believe it was my friend when she sent them a message, again Officer D believes it was me. Okay get over it and move on. I came to Coplounge in the beginning, years ago. You got to meet one of my personalities, that person hasn’t been back in years. Then you met Perdure, who was apparently normal enough that everyone on Coplounge got along with her for a year. Perdure never once caused a ‘problem’ on your board. And don’t you remember it was I who ended that relationship. Since then I have not returned to your board as Mjones or anyone else. Your board is not so interesting that I feel the need to stalk you and see what you are saying at every moment.
But just for fun...here’s a poem about stalking...enjoy!!! Hehe

Satisfy A Need

Stalking, creeping, peeping around in dark corners.
Am I there? Do you see me? I see you.
Watching, waiting, debating.
Just one more cigarette
I have no other place to be.

I’m so quiet you can hear the moonlight sigh.
I see you everyday as you come and go by.
You can not hide.
You’ll never have peace.
Do I make your skin crawl?
Do you feel sick?

I’m patient, silently waiting.
Am I here or there?
Do you see me everywhere?
Outside with the wind blowing through your hair,
Look around, you might see me standing there.

Am I creepy, a little touched?
Maybe it’s just all in your head.
Footsteps from behind,
No where to run,
No place to hide.

Who was really on the phone?
Am I out front
Or coming up from behind?
Hard to spot,
You might not get off a shot.

Later today I will email you as somebody you don’t know.
Do you feel fear washing over you?
Goosebumps up and down your spine.
For today the hunt will be done,
But there is always tomorrow.

To Coplounge: Where is my apology?

Those who never retract their opinions love themselves more than they love truth.--Joseph Jouber

My friend told me she sent you proof of who she was, and that she and her husband are the ones who use the name Mjones...not me!

You know you were wrong, now admit it, but it takes a lot of courage and humility to step up and acknowledge when you’re mistaken. Do you have that? You know you were definitely in the wrong, but you’re not taking responsibility for your mistake.

Most people who are addicted to being right never even get to the point where they can admit they were wrong. They never become conscious of the fact that they may just possibly have a flaw. Maybe you’re trying to save face or hold onto your self esteem, but whatever the reason is for you, next time you are addicted to being right, try a new tact. Try seeing it as an opportunity to admit you’re wrong. Admitting you are wrong shows you’re human. Are you human Officer D? Badgebunny?

Law enforcement has a hard time with this concept, they can’t or won’t admit when they are wrong about something. They just let the person go on sitting in that jail cell rotting away, even though they know they are wrong.

Poison in my Veins

Flowing through my bloodstream silently, sweetly.
On this night I will die from the poison in my veins.
Closing my eyes as I'm helpless and left for dead.
Slowly draining my life while nothing else remains.

Flowing through my bloodstream silently, sweetly.
Feelings of despair for living a broken existence.
There's an emptiness in the pieces of my soul,
As darkness overwhelms me without resistance.

Flowing through my bloodstream silently, sweetly.
Numbing the pain as I choke upon my final breath.
There's nothing anyone can do to try and save me.
My eyes close and I drift one step closer to death.

Flowing through my bloodstream silently, sweetly.
Feeling bitterness for past mistakes remembered.
So many regrets and lost chances for salvation,
As my soul flickers with its last burning ember.

Flowing through my bloodstream silently, sweetly.
Saying my last goodbye as tears run down my face.
On this night I will die from the poison in my veins.
Fading away from this life without another trace.

Cry on...No answer yet.

I was through crying.

It was just around the corner to where the search for answers to my past would come to an end, all I had to do was force myself beyond the thoughts and do what needed to be done years ago. It was one step in my journey that was just beyond a barbed wire fence, then down in a ravine.


A fence had been put up a few years after we moved out when the property was divided and sold to different people. I wasn’t sure who had purchased the property, but I had already came this far, and was determined to find out what if anything was still laying in the woods undiscovered.

The fence was new and stung tight enough that I couldn’t spread the wire fence apart in the middle. The only way to get to the other side was to go under the fence. I dropped to my knees then laid flat on the ground and rolled underneath. Once on the other side I stood and shook the grass from my pants and hands, and then looked towards the direction I had remembered. My heart began to race so fast that it hurt. I stood there for several minutes taking in deep breaths over and over again. I was shaking, on the verge of wanting to vomit. I had the feeling.

I knew the answer to one of my own questions was just beyond a few trees and tall brush. Was it real? What really happened? Was she still there? All I had to do was go and look . Just 50 more yards... “Do it now! You are so fucking ignorant! You fat ass bitch! You’ll never be anybody! Keep you fucking mouth shut!” I heard the voices of all the hurtful people who had said things to me throughout my life. The voices screamed loud. “Waste of sperm. She’s disturbed! It’s our secret. Ugly ass. Laughing. She’s not normal and probably never will be. You’ll always need some type of therapy. Keep you mouth shut! A good girl is a quiet girl! Just touch me here. 1234!”


My palms were sweaty, and sweat was dripping down from my forehead, the sounds of birds echoed loudly in my head. I could hear the rustling of my feet in the leaves as if the sound was being amplified a hundred times. I began to feel dizzy, then everything went black.


I awoke some time later, close to dark. I was cold and the grass had become damp. I wasn’t going into those woods after dark, was the excuse I gave myself. It would have to wait until another day. I hurriedly made it back to the car, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. I made it just as the sun went completely down. I quickly back out, locked my car doors and then fired my last joint.

It wasn’t meant to be then.

If you don’t like what I write, why come to my site?

Well, it was like I figured my neighbor is the one who was going to cop lounge, but they still believe it was me. I really don’t care what they think, but Jen said she would try to straighten things out with them. I rather doubt they will believe her, mostly because she knows me...so that is a strike against her. But she knows several officers from around here, so maybe whatever she does will get them away from my site.

Coplounge

If you don’t like what I write, why come to my site?

I'm not that interesting.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Where is God when I fall?

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Where is God when I fall?

The Child Within,

Where has she been?

Living with memories of darkness and sin.

Cannot embrace that child within.

The shame it has no end.

Don’t show your face,

Stay inside and pray.

The corner is yours dark and gray.

Silence your heart

Don’t you cry!

What good would it do?

Don’t even try.

Can’t let her out.

People will see,

The scared little girl inside of me.

She wants to be loved.

She needs to feel safe.

Embrace her today along with her sorrow,

She wants to come out And play tomorrow.

AND JUST SO HE KNOWS FOR A WHILE I WASN'T ALIVE

I seek release.

Release from this bitter cold
that courses through my body,
and conquers the will of my heart .
Maybe if I take this razor to my wrists

I can cut the pain away.

I can watch the blood drip onto the floor

just so I can see myself slip away.
I can't hold the tears back

but I can cut the pain away.

Nothing is more refreshing

than one's life upon the floor.
Hold me in this bed a little longer

I can feel your fingers dig into me still.
Maybe if I take this razor to my wrists

I can cut myself away.

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I take a look at my life and realize there's nothing left.
Memory, memory please go away,

The little girl in me wants to play.

From here to there

And there to where?

No one really seems to care.

Circling, whirling up and down

There is the sky
But where's the ground?

Never a child

I was destined to be

only a body filled with fear you see.

Always wondering what would come next

Always watching for him to come and get me.
The gray pavement flies beneath me

I close my eyes for a second and

I see you, your face

Burned into my memory

Like a bad dream

That I can’t wake up from.

I close my mouth but there is still a taste that I can’t stand.

                                       I smile through a thousand tears

so that no one knows my aches and fears.

Consumed by great shyness

that swallows me whole

No one sees the fire burning in my soul.
I always look behind me

for I feel someone is there.

I feel his eyes all over me

but I can’t see him anywhere.

I never speak up.
I say nothing at all.

Afraid someone will notice
if I should happen to fall.

Trying to hide disappear from the crowd

feeling left out like I’m not allowed.

I can smell his anger

locked so deep inside his soul

He had to feel the power

and so, my life, he stole.

I lock everything up

where it never comes out

so no one can feel my worry and doubt.

I’m longing for the day

when I'll finally be free

so that people can see

Normal is all I want to be.

I bleed alone.

Coplounge...Just be yourself and if people don’t like it, well fuck them.

Well, I had another post that I was going to post, but it seems like I need to respond to the fact that some law enforcement officials have found my site. They seem to find it rather disturbing to their souls. Why? It’s just words, thoughts, doesn’t mean that at any moment I going to snap and break you little freakin necks.

Yes, over 2 years ago I was going through a very stressful time...I stopped taking depression pills, which left my mind wondering way out in left field. That was then.

Now for some reason they think I’m stalking them...hell I don’t know what the fuck they are talking about. I haven’t been back to their site since I stopped being Perdure. I was only on their site to let them see the other side of me....the half-way normal part of me. It was obvious that they didn’t want me around after I told them who I really was, so I left and I haven’t been back to Coplounge. A few days later I tried to go back to their site and they had me banned, so now I can’t go back to their site, so I’m not sure why the fuck they are fucking with me now. I think its my neighbor who keeps going to their site, and they think its me...anyway my neighbor told me about a month ago that she was banned from their site after reading some post about me.

This is the link a friend sent to me...but I can’t go there...so you’ll have to read for yourself what they are saying. http://www.coplounge.com/board/viewthread.php?tid=12963
I don’t really know what they are saying about me this time, and I really don’t give a flying fuck, but apparently a few articles that I’ve written have caught their attention. I have a site meter on here, and it tells me who comes to my site, and where they are from, so that’s how I found out last night that they are viewing my pages.

Now one of the from Hyde Park, Massachusetts...I think I know who that is, but I’m not going to name names, thought they were smart posting anonymously so that I wouldn’t know who posted some shit about me saying I was lying. All I have to say about that...contact either one of my sister’s they will tell you it happened, because it happened to them too, and no of us talked because we were afraid to talk. How dare you tell someone something like that!!!...just rape the victim all over again why don’t you! In your profession, how many other women have you told this too...‘ohhhh you are just lying’ ?

Have you ever once stopped and asked yourself what made me this way? Was it just because I supposedly came from some trailer park... As you put it? It wasn’t a trailer park, but we were very poor...sorry I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Being just poor wouldn’t have made me the person I now am. Other things that were going on around me, is what brought me to this place here on earth that I call hell.

Don’t worry there’s not much time left and then it will all be over.

Smile, it’s easier than explaining why you’re sad.

I was wandering around today trying to get lost.
It’s easy to do when you don’t know where you’re going.
Still, I found myself on familiar streets and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get lost.

Dying seems less sad than having lived too little.

I sat in the park for hours tying to clear my mind of all thoughts.
I felt like I wanted to cry from the bottom of my soul, but the tears wouldn’t come. Leaving my clothes carefully folded for the benefit of the police investigators,
I swam out to the middle of the lake, but the waves pushed me back to shore before I felt the least bit lost. I failed to get lost despite thinking very long and hard about the whole subject of getting lost.

Rollercoaster Ride...That’s how to explain my life.

I saw some young men with short hair, dead eyes, and angry faces under a bridge, that chased a long-haired man and beat him. When I tried to help him they told me to get lost or else. I thought they looked more lost than most.

It’s not the opportunities given, it’s the chances taken.

I found a police officer and told them about the long-haired man but they just laughed and told me to mind my own business and get lost.
I stood on the edge of a high building but nothing happened for a long time. I looked down at those looking up and eventually I got tired, came down and the crowd got bored then went away.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these...
It might have been.
I meditated cross-legged, stood on my head, tried yoga positions, fell over, fell asleep, but still I could not lose myself no matter what I did. Perhaps the secret was not to try to get lost but rather to let go of my desire to do so.

Death may be the purpose of life. But what is the Meaning of Life? Those three words used in conjunction compose what is quite possibly the most annoying phrase known to man. The meaning of life, is simply, what you make it out to be. What do you want your life to mean when that inevitable day comes, and you die. No one will tell me, "Well, MsPsycho I want my life to mean nothing. I want to die alone as a bum under a bridge, having done nothing with my life." ... okay, someone somewhere may say that, but truthfully, no.

It’s the soul afraid of dieing that never learns to live.

The Purpose of life is to die. But not just to die, to die knowing that something came of the years spent on this world. To die without that... is to have lived without purpose.

Internet acronyms every parent needs to know. What does LMIRL mean?

Have you ever wonder what you kids are talking about while online? Here are a few Acronyms that every parent should know if they are allowing their kids to be online. Keep kids safe...know what they are doing and saying.



POS - Parent Over Shoulder
PIR - Parent In Room
P911 - Parent Alert
PAW - Parents Are Watching
PAL - Parents Are Listening
ASL - Age/Sex/Location
MorF - Male or Female


SorG - Straight or Gay
LMIRL - Let's Meet In Real Life
KPC - Keeping Parents Clueless
TDTM - Talk Dirty To Me
IWSN - I Want Sex Now
NIFOC - Nude In Front Of Computer
GYPO - Get Your Pants Off


ADR - Address
WYCM - Will You Call Me?
KFY - Kiss For You
MOOS - Member(s) Of the Opposite Sex
MOSS or MOTSS - Member(s) Of The Same Sex
NALOPKT - Not A Lot Of People Know That


2NITE - Tonight
AEAP - As Early As Possible
ALAP - As Late As Possible
AWGTHTGTTA - Are We Going To Have To Go Through This Again
B4YKI - Before You Know It
BOHICA - Bend Over Here It Comes Again
BRB - Be Right Back


BRT - Be Right There
CWYL - Chat With You Later
C-P - Sleepy
CYT or SYT - See You Tomorrow
E123 - Easy as 1, 2, 3
EM? - Excuse Me?
EOD - End Of Day
F2F - Face To Face
FOAF - Friend Of A Friend


HAK - Hugs And Kisses
ILU or ILY - I Love You
IMNSHO - In My Not So Humble Opinion
J/C - Just Checking
KOTL - Kiss On The Lips
L8R - Later
LD - Long Distance
LMK - Let Me Know
LOL - Laugh Out Loud


NAZ - Name, Address, Zip
N-A-Y-L - In A While
NM - Never Mind or Nothing Much
OLL - Online Love
OSIF - Oh Sh** I Forgot
OTP - On The Phone
QT - Cutie
RN - Right Now


ROTFL - Rolling on the Floor Laughing
RU - Are You...?
RUMORF - Are You Male Or Female
SITD - Still In The Dark
SMIM - Send Me an Instant Message
SMEM - Send Me an E-Mail
SO - Significant Other
SOHF - Sense of Humor Failure


SWDYT - So What Do You Think?
TOM - Tomorrow
TS - Tough Shit
TTFN - Ta-ta for Now
U-R - You Are..?
WFM - Works For Me
WTH - What the Heck
WUF - Where Are You From?
WYRN - What's Your Real Name?

What if today was to be my last day?

It's always darkest before dawn.....
So if you're going to STEAL the neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it...




Have you ever woken up one morning and wondered,
"What if today was to be my last?"
Well...have you?
I find myself thinking along those lines every once in a while.
This morning for example. I mean, what if I died today?
What if this were it? What would be my regrets?
What would I have accomplished, what would I have failed?
Whose lives would I have touched? What would I have changed?

I guess at some stage we are all touched by our mortality, some sooner than others. As a young child I was introduced to the concept of death, and it scared me terribly, I didn't want to die and at that point I remember my biggest wish in life were to live forever.
I was five.

As is the case, life progressed and a little over a year later, I had come to terms with it and no longer feared death... it was about that time that I became a very adventurous kid, and really have been ever since. Of course there was also the curiosity about post-death. I mean...what the hell happens (no pun intended)?

Its actually quite interesting to take a good look throughout history, local folklore and religion. There is always talk of afterlife...of some sort. There was Hades, Elysium, the Great Hunting Grounds. There were Banshees, Vampires, Ghosts. There is Heaven, Hell, Enlightenment, Reincarnation. Nowhere was there talk of...nothing...nothingness...blackness...void...death, and only death, ceasing to exist on this or any other plane of existence. Why is that? is it out of fear? A fear that lingers in any and all people to some extent, the fear that the old credence of "There has to be something better," may not be true.

Many years ago I asked an old friend of mine why he believes in God? What evidence is there, what is the point, why not pray to the Sun while you're at it, at least you can see the Sun. I said more, quite a bit more; he could have gotten angry, he could have told me we were no longer friends, he could have told me to go to Hell... instead he looked at me with this unnerving calm in his eyes said, “Faith, you have to have faith". That has stuck with me ever since. The 18 year old kid who knew the entire world and had conquered her fear of death 12 years ago was both shaken and stirred... and most importantly, I was thinking.

If I died today, I would think that I'd be ready for it. I have done a lot in my life thus far. I hope I have touched a few lives, I have let others cry on my shoulder so that their day was a little easier, I have helped to rebuild people's confidence in themselves and others. I have made people laugh. I have made people think. My only regret? Not going back to finish college. But whether that is in the cards or not? That is out of my hands... I guess I'll just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Pure Unconditional Love

A Baby's Hug

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded his chubby baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; you’re a big boy. I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?'
Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.'

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo.'

Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.'

Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift.'

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.'

I had just witnessed unconditional love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, 'To enter the Kingdom of God , we must become as little children.'

Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.

Butt Cheek Bandits Terrorizing Kearney, Nebraska

Apparently a vandal or vandals have been terrorizing the town of Kearney, Nebraska (pop. 27,431) by leaving Vaseline ass prints on the windows of local businesses. Over twenty sites have been hit on this ass print crime spree that started last May. My favorite line of the article is “there may have been copycat printings”. Really, “may have been”? Don’t they have a crack C.S.I. squad out there in Kearney that can determine if we are talking about one ass print or multiple ass prints?

At least that’s what folks in Valentine hope after someone slathered his bare backside — and front side — with Vaseline, then left prints on windows of businesses, schools and churches. The local Midland News newspaper called the vandal or vandals “lewd, lubricated, lurching lunatics.”

“It’s just a weird deal, but it’s weird enough to cause a little bit of concern,” said Valentine Police Chief Ben McBride. “Who in their right mind would do something like that?” McBride has fielded about 20 reports.

“I don’t know what kind of people it takes to do that,” Nollett said. “Someone with a weird sense of humor, I guess.” The wrongdoing is more disgusting than destructive. There has been no physical damage, although producing the printings would involve indecent exposure.

Maybe I have a “weird sense of humor” but I think this is friggin’ hilarious. How much beer to do you have to drink and how bored do you have to be to realize it would be pretty funny to cover your ass in Vaseline and leave ass prints around town? I am guessing at least 15 beers.

Black Friday...Let's go shopping!!!

I haven’t yet decided if I’ll be going out on BLACK FRIDAY, but I’m seriously considering doing so. You know the day I’m talking about, the day after we fill our stomachs so full of food that we feel as if we are going to split open at the seams if we dare to bend down and pick up something. Thanksgiving is a time when we think of family, getting together, and good old fashion FOOD. It is a great time to see family members that we don’t other wise see very often, or haven’t seen in years, and to just hang out with friends. This year I’ll be doing both. First, I’ll be spending most of the day with family that I haven’t seen since last Thanksgiving, and then for the following weekend I’ll be cooking for some friends coming to my house.

Between these two glorious feasts, and stuffing myself until I feel like I want to explode, the day after Thanksgiving, I’ll be spending sometime walking off Grandma’s homemade hot rolls, turkey, stuffing and gravy early in the morning at Wal-Mart. Then it’s off to the mall for a little more shopping.

Now I am never excited about waking up at 4 am the day after a holiday when I’ve stuffed myself like a turkey, but I always managed to go out for a couple hours, sometimes more, just to find that right gift...at a price that I feel is acceptable. Sometimes making your way through the crowds can be one of the most strenuous workouts that you will ever have. But, by the time I down a couple cups of French Vanilla coffee, I feel wired enough to walk off those 5 pounds I feel like I put on the day before, and make my way through the toughest of crowds without getting shoved to the side. I think the reason I love to go, is the thrill of trying to find a good deal, plus I just like shopping.

Here are some tips that I follow to make sure I have a great day.

(1) Get there early! If you are like me and stay up late anyway, you might as well forgo sleep and hit the stores (especially Wal-Mart) around 3 am. If you don’t others will have already filled their carts with the sale items before the sale even starts…leaving you with nothing.

(2) Make a plan. Decide before you get to the store, what you are planning to purchase. What is the most important thing you are looking to buy? Plan to make that your first stop.

(3) Have fun, and don’t let yourself get overwhelmed. Remember everyone is there looking to get themselves a deal.

(4) Number 4 is important…Please remember to watch your purse or wallet! There are many more people out at this time of the year shopping, but there are some, who are shopping for your cash. Never turn your back on your purse sitting in your shopping cart. A thief can grab your purse, and be gone in less than 5 seconds.

Have fun on Black Friday!!! Let’s go shopping!!!

Daddy Hurt Me...A true Story

From: MsPsycho
From: *PEACE*
From: Kellee
Date: Nov 3, 2007 8:04 AM


DADDY IT HURTS

THIS IS A TRUE STORY!!
IF YOU DONT REPOST YOU DONT HAVE A SOUL!



My name is Chris

I am three,

My eyes are swollen

I cannot see,

I must be stupid

I must be bad,

What else could have made

My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better

I wish I weren't ugly,

Then maybe my mommy

Would still want to hug me.

I cant do a wrong

I cant speak at all

Or else im locked up

All day long.

When im awake im all alone

The house is dark

My folks arent home

When my mommy does come home

I'll try and be nice,

So maybe ill just get

One whipping tonight.

I just heard a car

My daddy is back

From Chariles bar

I hear him curse

My name is called

I press myself

Against the wall

I try to hide

From his evil eyes

Im so afraid now

I'm starting to cry

He finds me weeping

Calls me ugly words,

He says its my fault

He suffers at work

He slaps and hits me

And yells at me more,

I finally get free

And run to the door

Hes already locked it

And I start to bawl,

He takes me and throws me

Against the hard wall

I fall to the floor

With my bones nearly broken,

And my daddy continues

With more bad words spoken,

"Im sorry!", I scream

But its now much to late

His face has been twisted

Into a unimaginable shape

The hurt and the pain

Again and again

O please God, have mercy!

O please let it end!

And he finally stops

And heads for the door

While I lay there motionless

Sprawled on the floor

My name is Chris

I am three,

Tonight my daddy

Murdered me

And you can help

Sickens me to the soul,

And if you read this

and don't pass it on

I pray for your forgivness

Because you would have to be

One heartless person

To not be affected

By this Poem

And because U R affected,

Do something about it!

So all i ask you to do

Is pass this on!

IF YOU ARE AGAINST CHILD ABUSE!



PLEASE COPY AND PASTE THIS AND PASS IT ON !!
REPOST THIS AS "DADDY IT HURTS
THIS IS A TRUE STORY

How to Make Cooked Pumpkin Seeds, And Make Pumpkin Bread

My two boys (now 14 and 17) still look forward to these every year. They are a low calorie, tasty treat, and very easy for kids to make. If they are cooked until golden brown, they become crunchy enough to just pop in your mouth and chew them up.


Cooked Pumpkin Seeds

Cut into tops of fresh pumpkins and pull out seeds. Separate membranes from seeds as best you can, then rinse in colander under cold running water to remove last shreds. Toss in colander to shake off water and blot with paper towels to dry seeds.

Melt approx. 2 tablespoons of butter or olive oil in a pan on the stove
Pour cleaned pumpkin seeds in pan.
Sprinkle with amount of salt desired.
Cook, stirring occasionally until golden brown.
Dump onto paper towels to let cool.


If you prefer you can place them in the oven.
Heat oven to 350 degrees

• 1½ cups of fresh pumpkin seeds.
• Melted butter or olive oil (around 1 tablespoon)
• Salt

Line a rimmed baking sheet with heavy-duty foil. Spread seeds evenly on sheet. Drizzle with melted butter or olive oil, tossing to coat evenly. Sprinkle lightly with salt. Bake 35-45 minutes until golden brown, stirring from time to time.


******************************************
Pumpkin Bread Recipe

• 1/3 cup vegetable oil
• ½ tsp ground cloves
• 1 cup fresh or canned pumpkin puree
• 3 eggs
• 1 cup flour
• 2 tsps ground cinnamon
• ½ cup raisins
• 2 1/3 cups Bisquick
• pinch of ground nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease 9x5-inch loaf pan. Mix all ingredients together with wooden spoon. Pour into prepared pan. Bake for 45 minutes. Test with knife, if the knife comes out clean the bread is done. If it is not done put back in oven for 10 minutes. Cool before removing from pan. Store in plastic bag.

A Pic of my ONE-WEEK-OLD Puppies

Well here is one pic...I'll try again tomorrow.

Why do we love puppies?

Why is it that those who don’t like dogs still like puppies?

Walking a large Lab/Pit Bull mixed dog is an interesting experience. I have two that I often walk through my neighborhood, and no matter how nice and friendly they are to me, most people see them as something to be feared. People are scared by pit bulls, some by large dogs, and others by all dogs. However, all that fear vanishes when they see you walking two 12-week-old puppies. The little happy-go-lucky guys suddenly become the center of attention. Apparently most people can’t help but love little puppies, even the type of dogs people tend to fear when they get bigger.

It seems our brains are what make us attracted to the little, innocent, creatures. After all, their large foreheads, and big, round eyes are reminiscent of human babies. Clearly, we’re predisposed to care for babies. We’re just a nurturing species. Our babies require a great deal of care for many years. When we see these cues, we can’t help but respond with a rush of a hormone called oxytocin. We generalize our feelings to other species--including dogs.

Unbelievably, that generalization in scientific parlance is called the ‘aw’ factor. We respond with lots of smiles, a softer and higher voice, and we tend to actually say ‘aw.’

Sometimes this same generalized attraction occurs when we see adult animals. With their big eyes, large, roundish heads, pronounced foreheads and fairly short snouts. Adult pandas elicit the same response that babies do. After all, they look like cuddly teddy bears.

It’s no coincidence that dogs look like they do. For thousands of years, we’ve played a role in their selection, and naturally, we select features that are most appealing to us. Many dogs were bred for a function such a herding sheep or to retrieve waterfowl, and their features reflect their jobs. However, other dogs were simply bred for our pleasure, and human baby-like features seem to be more evident in these breeds.

The King Charles spaniel as an example has many puppy features, even as adults. There is the soft expression and those big eyes. Many adult dogs of many breeds have a perpetual look of innocence, and that’s what’s most appealing.

For the most part, we have bred all dogs to retain puppy characteristics, like playfulness, throughout their lives. Dogs are one of an only few neotenous (retaining many child-like characteristics as adults) species on the planet. We find puppies so appealing that we want them to be puppies forever.

Still, there is more that is appealing about pups. Aside for those visual cues, they actually smell fresh, some of their whimpering sounds remind us of baby sounds, and that’s endearing to us. Also, puppies make us laugh – and of course laughter naturally feels good. We are all drawn to what makes us feel good.

However, if puppies do all these things for us and trigger an oxytocin burst that can’t be avoided, then why do some cultures treat puppies unkindly? I don’t think anyone knows. Biology is the same in everyone, so it must be that the culture around them can be a powerful force. Just as people who are afraid of adult dogs are unlikely to fear puppies, I would bet that young children not exposed to the cultural norms of those places not as friendly toward dogs, would find that puppies naturally charm them, but there’s no research on this area as far as I know.

Puppies certainly do charm us. It’s no coincidence that they are often used on TV and print ads. A cute puppy may help sell your product. In addition, of course puppies can do no wrong… well until they piddle on your carpet.



*************************************************

I was going to be posting pictures of my one-week-old puppies with this post, but it won't let my unload them for some reasons, so I'll try posting them later.

Getting Drunk Joke

From the county where drunk driving is considered a sport, comes this true story. Recently a routine police patrol parked outside a bar in Tulsa, Oklahoma after last call the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so apparently intoxicated that he could barely walk.

The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed an eternity in which he tried his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his car and fall into it. He sat there for a few minutes as a number of other
patrons left the bar and drove off.

Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off--it was a fine, dry summer night--,flicked the blinkers on and off a couple of times, honked the horn and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little and then remained for a few more minutes as some more of the other patrons' vehicles left. At last, when his was the only car left in the parking lot, he pulled out and drove slowly down the road.

The police officer, having waited patiently all this time, now started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over, and administered a breathalyzer test. To his amazement, the breathalyzer indicated no evidence that the man had consumed any alcohol at all!

Dumbfounded, the officer said, I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the sheriffs office. This breathalyzer equipment must be broken."

"I doubt it," said the truly proud non-drinker. "Tonight I'm the designated decoy."

10 Things to Do with All that Halloween Candy

The best thing about Halloween for most kids can be summed up in one word: Candy.

Every family has its own methods of getting through the post-Halloween mounds of joy. Some let their kids gorge themselves for a day or two. Others dole it out a little at a time. Some parents even ban the candy bars altogether. For some nutritionists (and dentists!), Halloween candy is downright scary.
Whatever candy camp your family falls in –– there’s more to do with candy than eat it. Check out these ideas of what to do with leftovers:


1. Recycle it. Practice instant recycling. Screen the candy your kids bring home. After throwing away any unwrapped goodies, take out any candy your children don’t like or you don’t want them to have and then send that candy back out the door with other trick-or-treaters.

2. Freeze it. Put the chocolate bars right in the freezer to save them for later. Frozen chocolate takes longer to eat, so children can’t wolf it down so quickly.

3. Bake it. You don’t have to freeze the candy to keep it fresh. Kept in an airtight container, it will last long after Halloween. Later, you can bake surprise cupcakes. Push a soft candy into the middle of the batter in each cup before baking. Decorate the icing with more candies. You can also substitute bits of chocolate bars in your favorite chocolate-chip cookie recipe.


4. Melt it. Save chocolate to bring a taste of summer into your home long after you’ve put away the sunscreen. Melt chocolate for s’mores any time of year. Place a chocolate bar and a marshmallow between two graham crackers on top of a paper towel. Microwave for about 20 seconds.


5. Stuff it. Gather the leftover goodies and stuff them into a (homemade or store-bought) piñata. Crack the piñata open at Thanksgiving or wait until your child’s birthday.


6. Create it. Professional artists create sculptures from candy, why not kids? Make mosaics with hard candy. Cover sturdy cardboard with wax paper, aluminum foil or paper. Then instead of tiles, use candy to create a design and “grout” it with stiff icing. To make sculptures, stick soft candy, apples and marshmallows together with toothpicks.


7. House it. After Halloween, kids can’t wait for Christmas. Save Halloween candy for gingerbread houses.


8. Wear it. Make a candy necklace. You’ll need an assortment of lollipops and colorful candies with twist-wrap ends to make this idea from the National Confectioners Association. Cut a 14-inch strand of thin twine or fabric ribbon. Tie one end of a wrapper of candy or lollipop stick tightly to one end of ribbon or twine (leave about two inches of ribbon free for tying at the end). Attach candy by knotting the ribbon around the wrapper ends or lollipop sticks until the necklace is complete. Leave two inches at the end. Tie the ends together and wear the latest in edible jewelry.


9. Decorate it. Create Christmas ornaments from candy. To make a train, take a long pack of gum and glue on round candy for wheels, a square piece for a smokestack, and something round for the bell on top. Attach a loop of gold thread or ribbon for hanging. Look at simple geometric illustrations (such as are in coloring books) for other ideas. Coat your ornament with an acrylic sealer so it won’t deteriorate and you don’t draw bugs.


10. Share it. Take your leftover candy to the office. Even if your co-workers who are parents are sick of the stuff, chances are your younger colleagues will relish childhood memories as they reach for another Mary Jane or Butterfinger.
Or better yet, fill a coffee can with candy and bring it to your local nursing home, homeless shelter or a charity for the staff to enjoy. Add a note that says, “Thanks for all the good work you do.”

Poem I Understand

I Understand

I don't know why some people feel they suffer unique pain.

As if, they are the only ones who've lost or ceased to gain.

I don't know why they hide their pain and clutch it ever tighter.

It seems to me that all should know - a burden shared gets lighter.

If you think that, you can't share because I won't understand.

At least just, give me half a chance to lend a helping hand.

For I know that you're hurting and I know a place to start.

Perhaps if you could realize - Your pain burns in my heart.

Maybe I can help a bit to get you through today.

And maybe by tomorrow you won’t need help anymore.

But if you should - Don't be ashamed -For that's what friends are for.

After all is said and done - The trials ceased - You're whole.

Perhaps you'll know just what to do to help another soul.

Being crushed by hurt and pain - be it woman or a man

I won't have to hear them say, "You just don’t understand."

Twenty fun things to do on Halloween

1. Give away something other than candy. (Toothpicks, golf balls, bags of sand, etc.)

2. Wait behind the door until some people come. When they get near the door, jump out, wearing a costume, and holding a bag, and yell, "Trick or Treat!" Look at them, scratch your head and act confused.

3. Fill a briefcase with marbles and crackers. Write on it, "Top Secret" in big letters. When trick-or-treaters come, look around suspiciously, say, "It's about time you got here," give them the briefcase, and quickly shut the door.

4. Get about 30 people to wait in your living room. When trick-or-treaters come to the door, say, "Come in." When they do, have everyone yell, "Surprise!!!" Act like it's a surprise party.

5. Get everyone who comes to the door to come in and see if they can figure out what's wrong with your dishwasher. Insist that it makes an unnatural "whirring" sound.

6. After you give them candy, hand the trick-or-treaters a bill.

7. Open the door dressed as a giant fish. Immediately collapse, and don't move or say anything until the trick-or-treaters go away.

8. When you answer the door, hold up one candy bar, throw it out into the street, and yell, "Crawl for it!"

9. When you answer the door, look at the trick-or-treaters, act shocked and scared, and start screaming your head off. Slam the door and runaround the house, screaming until they go away.

10. Insist that the trick-or-treaters each do ten push-ups before you give them any candy.

11. Hand out menus to the trick-or-treaters and let them order their candy. Keep asking if anyone wants to see the wine list.

12. Get a catapult. Sit on your porch and catapult pumpkins at anyone who comes within 50 yards of your house. That could be fun!

13. When people come to the door, jump out a nearby window, crashing through the glass, and run as far away from your house as you can.

14. Answer the door dressed as a pilgrim. Stare at the trick-or-treaters for a moment, pretend to be confused, and start flipping through a calendar.

15. Instead of candy, give away colored eggs. If anyone protests, explain that the eggs are the only thing you had left over from Easter.

16. Answer the door dressed as a dentist. Angrily give the trick-or-treaters a two-hour lecture on tooth decay.

17. Answer the door with a mouthful of M & M's and several half-eaten candy bars in your hands. Act surprised, and close the door. Open it again in a few seconds, and insist that you don't have any candy.

18. Hand out cigarettes and bottles of aspirin. Highly unrecommended.

19. Put a crown on a pumpkin and put the pumpkin on a throne on your porch. Insist that all of the trick-or-treaters bow before the pumpkin.

20. Dress up like a bunny rabbit. Yell and curse from the moment you open the door, and angrily throw the candy at the trick-or-treaters. Slam the door when you're finished

Silence Brings on the Pain

Silence Brings on the Pain

I’m depressed enough to write again,
The gun is against my head,
Will I pill the trigger?
Should I let the blood drip like tears from my eyes?

There is so much pain,
Will I die in vain?
Do you understand?
Why I hold this gun in my hand?

I hear the floor creaking
With footsteps in the night.
Through the crevices
The lustful eyes peep.
I remember someone being there.
Will he be there tonight?

Another sleepless night,
Another pill,
Another drink,
A puff of smoke
Anything to make me not have to think.


A person that I thought cared,
Was really my enemy.
Unable to sleep.
Unable to close my eyes.
I lie awake, and silently weep.

Sheriff's Deputy Kills Six in Rampage

CRANDON, Wis. (Oct. 7) - An off-duty sheriff's deputy went on a shooting rampage early Sunday at a home where seven young people had gathered for pizza and movies, killing six and critically injuring the other before authorities took him down, officials said.

The gunman, Tyler Peterson, was 20 years old and worked full-time as a Forest County deputy sheriff and part-time as a Crandon police officer, said Police Chief John Dennee. Three of the victims were students at the small town's high school, and three were recent graduates, a school official said.

The gunman may have graduated from the same high school. Peterson was not working at the time of the shooting, Sheriff Keith Van Cleve said. The survivor was hospitalized in nearby Marshfield, Dennee said. A Crandon police officer who fired back was treated for minor injuries and released.

Gary Bradley, mayor of the city of about 2,000, said earlier Sunday that the suspect had been brought down by a sniper, but Van Cleve would not confirm that officers shot the suspect. It wasn't immediately clear what the gunman's motive was, but the mother of a 14-year-old victim said the suspect may have been a jealous boyfriend.

The shooting occurred in a white, two-story duplex about a block from downtown Crandon. "It was a pizza and movie party," Dennee said. Three of the victims were Crandon High School students, said schools Superintendent Richard Peters, and the other three had graduated within the past three years.

"There is probably nobody in Crandon who is not affected by this," Peters said, adding that students would be especially affected. "They are going to wake up in shock and disbelief and a lot of pain." Peters did not know whether Peterson had also graduated from the 300-student high school. But Crandon resident Karly Johnson, 16, said that she knew the gunman and that he had helped her in a tech education class.

"He graduated with my brother," she said. "He was nice. He was an average guy. Normal. You wouldn't think he could do that."

One of the dead was 14-year-old Lindsey Stahl, said her mother, Jenny Stahl, 39. She said her daughter called her Saturday night and asked whether she could sleep over at a friend's house. Jenny Stahl agreed.

"I'm waiting for somebody to wake me up right now. This is a bad, bad dream," the weeping mother said. "All I heard it was a jealous boyfriend and he went berserk. He took them all out."

Marci Franz, 35, who lives two houses south of the duplex, said gunshots awoke her. "I heard probably five or six shots, a short pause and then five or six more," she said. "I wasn't sure if it was gunfire initially. I thought some kids were messing around and hitting a nearby metal building." Then she heard eight louder shots and tires squealing, she said. "I was just about to get up and call it in, and I heard sirens," she said. "There's never been a tragedy like this here.

There's been individual incidents, but nothing of this magnitude." Her husband, David Franz, 36, said it was hard to accept that someone in law enforcement committed such an act. "The first statement we said to each other was, how did he get through the system?" David Franz said. "How do they know somebody's background, especially that young? It is disturbing, to say the least."

The sheriff said he would meet with state Attorney General J.B. Van Hollen on Monday morning to discuss the case. Dennee said the state Department of Criminal Investigation will handle the case because the suspect was a deputy and officer. The Crandon School District called off classes Monday.

The community, about 225 miles north of Milwaukee in an area known for logging and outdoor activities, is facing a trying time but is pulling together, Bradley said. "We are a strong community. We always have been," he said. "This is agonizing, but we will prevail."


Full story and pictures ....http://news.aol.com/story/ar/_a/sheriffs-deputy-kills-six-in-rampage/20071007163409990001

Killing for Pleasure

My boyfriend at the time was just getting off from work, when he spotted two Rottiweiler dogs roaming the parking lot near his car. They were very friendly so he petted them both, and then walked back inside to pick up his jacket that he had forgotten. A friend of his arrived for his shift, noticed the dogs, and decided he wanted to take one of them home with him. My boyfriend of course had to have the other one, and quickly put him in back of his car and brought him to my house. It was a complete mistake from day one.

The dog was a nice looking Rott and very friendly, but he was already full grown, so I felt no emotional attachment to the dog. My boyfriend was the one who wanted to have him, but unless I took time to feed him, he never got watered or fed. Eventually I began to hate the dog because there were always arguments about the dogs care. Instead of buying or building the dog a doghouse, my boyfriend used the money to try and build a large stereo system to put in the back of his car. So when it rained the dog would howl for hours and hours, which began to bother the neighbors and they would come complaining to me.


My next door neighbors hated him, because every time they tried to do anything in their backyard, the dog would bark at them and jump up on the fence. One day the neighbor got to close and he jumped up on the fence and somehow scratched her on the arm. I never got to see the wound, but she claimed she had to go to the E.R. and have stitches. To avoid any more hassles with my neighbor I agree to pay her hospital bill of $181.00.

We had a fenced in back yard, but somehow he began getting loose everyday and roaming the neighborhood, which made people very uneasy seeing a big Rott running around loose. The cops were called several times, and when they tried to catch him, he would come running towards the backyard, so they knew he was ours. After two tickets I was fed up, and demanded that the dog had to be more secured or I would get rid of him. My boyfriend and I argued for two days until he finally went to the hardware store and purchased a large, long, metal chain. He then secured the chain around the dogs neck and the other end around a clothesline pole. Again this was fine, until it rained and then he would howl and howl for hours.

Another day, one of my sons friends, who was only 5, came into the backyard and began playing with him. I hadn't even notice the boy had come into my backyard, or I could have kept an eye on him. The next thing I knew I heard a blood curling scream, and my son and the boy came running into the house. The boy was holding his ear, and I could see blood flowing down from where his hand was being held. I tried to ask him what happened but he was too upset, so I hurried him over to his house and left him with his parents. I talked to my son about what had happened and he said his friend was trying to take the chain off the dog when the dog jumped up and his paw came down on the young neighbor boy. I found out later that the dogs claw had almost torn his ear off, anyway that's what they told me, and of course they wanted me to pay the $300 dollar hospital bill, plus a couple of hundred for his pain and suffering. This time I refused to pay, because I didn't feel it was my fault since he had come into my backyard, without me knowing.

I hated the dog more everyday and began refusing to feed and water him. If he was to be fed then, my boyfriend would have to be the one taking care of him, and I let him know this. Days would sometimes go by, without the dog getting fed. He looked so miserable that I couldn't even stand looking at him.

My younger son, who was only 2 at the time, began sneaking outside without me knowing. I had caught him a couple of times, in the backyard trying to play with the dog. It didn't worry me that the dog would try to bite him, but the dog liked jumping up on people. My son was a small two-year-old, and the dog was three times his size and weight. Sure enough, one day my fears came true, and my son tried to play with him. The dog jumped up on him, and one of the dogs nails hit my son in the head, putting a large nail hole wound in his forehead. He came running and screaming into the house with blood running down from his head. I quickly picked him up and called 911, telling them my son was injured from the dog.

Within 10 minutes the fire department arrived. I was so furious at the dog, all I could think about was a way to get rid of him. The injury wasn't real serious, but he still had to have 3 stitches in his head, right along the hairline. As they were helping him, all I could think about was what if it had been his eye, or what if the dog had continued jumping on him. After that, I put a lock on the backdoor, so my little boy couldn't go outside unless I was with him.

The next night it poured down rain and the dog howled for hours. I had only a few hours of sleep, between worrying about my son, and listen to the dog non-stop. I was awaken by a noise in the backyard, and quickly went to see what was going on. Somehow the dog had managed to get loose from the clothesline pole, and was dragging the chain behind. He had tried to jump over the fence, but the chain had hung up and it left him partly dangling in the air. I struggle to free him, hurting my arm as I did. I felt such deep anger inside. It was then that I began forming plans in my head about what I was going to do with the dog. I imagined the worst possible torture, and even the quickest most humane way to have it out of my life.

I tied him to the clothesline, and then went back into the house for a bucket of water. As I was letting the water run into the bucket I began adding some rat poison that I had under the sink. Next I found some poison for killing slugs and added that to the water. I wasn't sure if it would kill him, but I really didn't care. I just wanted to inflict harm on it, in some manner. I carried the water outside and sat if down next to him. He quickly drank the water, since he hadn't been watered in days. I turned and walked away.

Without a second thought to what might happen, I got my sons ready for a day of fun, and took them to the park to play. We had a picnic and walked around exploring places we had never been. Not even once did my mind wonder to the dog and think about how it might be doing. I really didn't care. Maybe I didn't secure it to the pole tight enough and when I got back it would escape and be long gone somewhere. I played and played with my boys, pushing them on the swings until we all became tired. When it was close to the time for my boyfriend to stop by my place, we packed up all our things and headed home.

When we returned my boyfriend was already there. He had found the dog dead in the backyard, and again he was free from the chain. He had a suspicion that someone may have poisoned the dog, but I convinced him that something happened to the dog during the storm. The neighbor behind our house saw the dog, and heard us talking about what may have happened. The neighbor quickly put in his two cents and said he thought the dog may have but killed by lightening. He said he had heard lightening strike real close to the house and since the dog was chained to the pole, he probably died of shock. I quickly jumped in and agreed with what he had to say. My boyfriend finally became convinced that was what had happened and took the do away for disposal. In my mind, I completely blocked out the fact that I had given the dog tainted water, and began fully believing that the dog had died because of being struck by lightening.

This happened in the fall of 1995. I just remembered today, in the fall of 2007, that I was the one responsible for killing the dog. I don't know why suddenly the memory returned to me, but I felt compelled to write down the story.

The Washcloth

I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week. Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor's office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am. I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45 am.

The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare. As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort. So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in that area to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.

I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away.

I was a little surprised when the doctor said, "My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?" I didn't respond.

After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal . Some shopping, cleaning, cooking. After school when my 6 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, "Mommy, where's my washcloth?" I told her to get another one from the cupboard. She replied, "No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it."

I'm NEVER going back to that doctor ever, ever, ever again!!

For the Child Who Cries at Night

This is for every child who cries at night
Alone with shame and pain and fright.

For every child who wants so much
To only feel a gentle touch.

For the beaten child, who cries in pain
Whose tears run silent, like a summer rain.

For the child used to satisfy lust
Who never learns to love or trust.

For the child taken from her home
And made to feel so all alone.

For the child whose home is just a shell
Where life becomes a living hell.

For the child who smiles but cannot feel
Because of scars too deep to heal.

For every child who yearns for love
I hope and pray to God above
He hears your cries and heals your pain
Never again to cry tears of rain.

A Bug Joke

A few days ago, I woke up from a nap with a searing pain in my right ear. My eardrum felt as if it was vibrating and suffering from some sort of spasm. After shaking my head around for a couple of minutes and trying to stop the spasm by sticking my finger in my ear (bad idea), OUT CRAWLED A TINY BLACK BUG!!!

*shudder* and again still *shuddering*

For the next few days I continue to feel intermittent pain in that ear. It becomes so much of a problem that I begin to obsess that the bug that dropped from my ear, has laid it's eggs somewhere deep inside my ear canal. The more days that pass the more I begin to believe that I’m being eaten alive by tiny bug larvae.

GROSS GROSS GROSS EW EW EW!!! *shuddering again*

So when I woke at 6:30 this morning to the sensation of SOMETHING CRAWLING IN MY EAR, I freaked out and stumbled into the bathroom to KILL THE LARVAE TRYING TO EAT THROUGH TO MY BRAIN.

The first thing I saw was a bottle of peroxide, which I poured just a small amount into my ear.

Bad idea.
Peroxide bubbles.
Bubbles hit eardrum.
Bubbles hitting eardrum causes vertigo.
Vertigo causes me to fall onto the bathroom floor and twitch, unable to get up to pour alcohol into ear and stop the madness.

Eventually I managed to grab the alcohol off the counter and stop the bubbling.

If something is in my ear, it is now very clean and very drunk...

You Are Never Alone

There are times when you are alone,
no matter how crowded the room.
There are times when you are alone,
and not a soul is around.
But you are never alone,
because the ghosts in your heart
will always be with you,
to share the good and the bad.
The long lonely nights,
the short fun filled minutes.
No matter what it is that you are doing
you are never truly alone.
I think sometimes the ghosts are the ones
that we wish the most to spend our time with,
and other times they are the ones
we wish to get away from the most.
Haunted past memories of lovers, friends and family.
Never is a person truly alone.
If we ever did lose those memories,
no matter how anguishing they may seem
while we see them now,
think of how alone we would truly be
if we didn’t have them.
Would it truly be better
to not have those memories at all
and be completely alone,
or is it better on those long cold nights
to have the past to keep us company?
Even if the past isn’t always something that we loved,
or are happy to have happened to us,
the reward of retaining those bad memories
is the gift of having the good memories too.

My boy toy

I met him online in one of the chat rooms, and after viewing his gorgeous, young body, I knew I had to taste all that he had to offer. He was around the age of eighteen, muscular and with olive colored skin, a big tattoo on his smooth biceps, green eyes, and dark short cut hair. He was any older woman's dream.

He met me at my apartment, and we spent no time getting down to business, stripping our clothes off as we walked towards my bed. My mattress lies by the open window, with a single crumpled sheet and pillow. Slowly the boy sinks to his knees and tips me backward onto the bed, never taking his eyes off my cunt. Laying his palms on the insides of my thighs, he forces my legs apart as far as they will spread. I can't take my eyes off that beautiful penis. Then I have to because he starts to thrust hard and fast, his round balls slapping my flesh, his hands convulsively squeezing my breasts. I'm panting and gasping, thrusting back and kissing his penis hard with my vagina. As soon as my whimpers reach a certain pitch, the boy slips it out, wipes away the sweat that's trickled down his creamy chest to his belly, then he enters me again, and again and again.
He rolls me over and grips me by the hips and jacking my ass upward, he changes angle and rams it up my cunt all the way to the cervix. I rock against him as hard and fast as I want to; this guy's not going to quit pumping till I can't cum anymore.

Bright, almost blinding light from the hall fell across our bodies as my roommate and a tall black man stumbled into the apartment.

"Damn! Give me a fuckin' break," the boy protest.

"Ohh, Don't stop!" I shout out as I grabbed the boy's ass, forcing him deep inside me. "They are friends of mine. Keep going."

From the corner of my eye I see the man my roommate as brought back with her, already stripped to the waist. He looks like a dark-chocolate God.

The boy is watching while he continues to dig deeper between the cheeks of my rump, stroking my breasts and sneaking one hand down to play with my clit. Without a word my roommate strips and begins to suck her mans mounting hard on.

By this time I'm cumming in a nonstop hysterical stream, the feel of my mount penetrating me again and again sent a shuddering wave all through me. I bit the pillow and gripped the mattress edges for dear life.

As I look over I see my roommate twisting around into a low bend over the bathtub with her rump in the air. Her man forces his long black thick cock up her creamy white mound, as she caresses her own stiff breast, making noises in the back of her throat as he roughly enters her.

"Oh you dirty fucking bastard. Fuck me hard", she groans. The boy at my cunt is like a rock, his balls are like a hard fuzzy peach ready to burst. I find myself wanting them to burst at last.

I brush the sweaty hair from my eyes and look at the man as he's lathering his left hand, his right hand resting on my roommates soft white ass. The boy hugs me even tighter and bites into the back of my neck. The man returns my stare with cold contempt. I watch as his dark cock rams in and out of her ass, slowly he guides several of his long fingers into her cunt. The boy takes one look and, "aaaaaaaahahhahhhhhhh!" hot and wet cum spills forth only like a virile teenager can. We collapse in exhaustion. A pool of semen seeps out onto the bed.
"You bastard," shouts my roommate. Still she loved it. A cock up her ass and a hand up her tight little white cunt. With a jerk her man pulls out of her, and shoots his massive load over her creamy white ass. Her man quickly steps into his clothes and rushes out the door. As a last word he shouts, "You fucking white bitch", then he's gone. My roommate giggles, massages her moist behind and then darts off to her room, leaving me alone with the boy.

He turns to kiss me one last time. "Good night Rick," I whisper lightly into his ear.

"It's Ron," he says smiling sweetly.

Man Arrested for having Sex with a Pumpkin

'A man is driving home late one night and is feeling very horny. As he is passing a pumpkin patch, his mind starts to wander...'

This was in the "Washington Post"... the title of the article was "Best Comeback Line Ever." This is pretty damn good. Drunk and horny, he still came up with this!

Police arrested Patrick Lawrence, a 22-year-old white male, resident of Dacula, GA, in a pumpkin patch at 11:38 p.m. Friday. Lawrence will be charged with lewd and lascivious behavior, public indecency, and public intoxication at the Gwinnett County courthouse on Monday.

The suspect allegedly stated that as he was passing a pumpkin patch, he decided to stop. "You know, a pumpkin is soft and squishy inside, and there was no one around here for miles. At least I thought there wasn't," he stated in a phone interview from the jail.

Lawrence went on to state that he pulled over to the side of the road, picked out a pumpkin that he felt was appropriate to his purposes, cut a hole in it, and proceeded to satisfy his alleged "need." "I guess I was just really into it, you know?" he commented with evident embarrassment.

In the process, Lawrence apparently failed to notice the Gwinnett County police car approaching and was unaware of his audience until Officer Brenda Taylor approached him. "It was an unusual situation, that's for sure," said Officer Taylor. "I walked up to (Lawrence) and he's...just working away at this pumpkin."

Taylor went on to describe what happened when she approached Lawrence. "I just went up and said, 'Excuse me sir, but do you realize that you are screwing a pumpkin?' He got real surprised, as you'd expect, and then looked me straight in the face and said, "A pumpkin? Damn...is it midnight already?"

MsPsycho's Sexy Thoughts

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The top 10 misconceptions about Police Officers

The Top Ten Misconceptions about Police Officers

This Information Has Been Derived from a Federal Report on The State of Law Enforcement in the United States

1) Being a cop is a dangerous job.
False: Being a cop is not even on the list of the top 15 most dangerous jobs in America. Being a cab driver is 50 times more dangerous than being a cop.

2) Cops in the U.S are highly trained.
False: Cops in the U.S. only receive 9 to 12 weeks of training, sometimes a lot less, one of the lowest in the industrialized world. Cops in most other countries receive at least 104 weeks of training, (two years) and usually require an education.

3) Cops are chosen because of their superior decision making skills.
False: A report by the federal government states that over 90% of cops on duty in the U.S. barely passed high school or received a GED.

4) Cops are morally superior to regular citizens.
False: Out of 750,000 cops in the U.S. over 11,000 are indicted each year for felony crimes. That's 32.8 per day. This is only a drop in the bucket, most cop violations go unreported.

5) Cops are not civilians.
False: Cops are civilians, they are civil servants protected by the Civil Service Act. Only elected officials and military personnel are government officials. Not appointed offices such as law enforcement officers, deputies, civil servants, government contractors or government employees. The only law enforcement officer that is not a civilian is a Sheriff, because he is elected.

6) Cops are legal experts.
False False False: Cops are not experts at anything, especially law. If any cop tells you he is a legal expert, call your local Bar Associations Unlicensed Practice of Law Branch.

7) Cops can give you legal advice.
False: Only a licensed attorney can give you legal advice. If a cop suggests any legal action, report it to the State Bar.

8) Cops are under paid.
False: They are well paid for a job that requires no education, unskilled, minimally trained low risk labor, with government benefits and retirement.

9) Cops are society's best people.
False: Some departments have been found to have convicted felons in uniform and as high up as the highest ranking officers in their precincts.

10) Police do a good job of policing themselves.
False: Insider information has reported to us that it is most departments' policies to use internal affairs to cover up anything that would embarrass a departments administration. Unless it is caught on record or reported by the media. Letting cops police themselves is the same as letting the inmates run the prisons. Vote for any local change in your community to put citizen review boards in charge of police discipline matters. Remember, we are the taxpayers, the cops are our employees, Stop letting them get away with murder.