Word 365: Week 1

Well, the first week was a success! The first batch of letters have gone out and have been received by most, if not all parties.

The first week's batch included the first two letters, which were of course to my wonderful parents. They are always at the top of my list.

My nephew Dylan received a "did you know" list of fun trivia.

My nephew Cobi received nothing but a list of slang terms for a variety of flatulence. Farting is something we have in common, and laugh about all the time.

Also, I sent a thank you letter to the City of Oakland Park for building the 39th Street greenway. It's a glorified bike/walking path filled with palm trees and benches, but it's a great addition to our neighborhood and I look forward to using it. Every day on my way to and from work for about the last 6-8 months, I have seen men working on and building this path, and I figured they deserved a thank you for their hard work.

A sneak peek for week 2 you say? Sure! Week two's batch of letters include trivia, condolences for two friends who lost a loved one, and my top 5 reasons for being friends with an amazing person.

Stay tuned, and check your mail! You never know when you'll receive a letter!!!


Did you know?
The running pony logo used by the U.S. Post Office Department before the creation of the USPS.

Word: 365

Facebook. Twitter. Email. Tumblr. Linkedin. Instagram. iPhone. Android. Instant Messaging. Facetime. iPad. Tablet.

What do all these social media outlets have in common?

They are ALL extremely lazy and impersonal ways to communicate.

Remember the day when someone would come to your house for a surprise visit without calling/texting first? How about when someone would write a letter instead of an email? Or when someone would call your landline just to chat?

I will admit that I LOVE social media for reasons everyone else does, but I also love the feel of a pen against a fresh sheet of paper. I love receiving a handwritten letter in the mail, or a note on the mirror from a loved one. 

It's only 2013, but it seems that simple communication is ancient and foreign, something from the 1600's, and something not worth celebrating or remembering.

This year, I want to change all that, one letter at a time.

2013 will be the year I write 365 letters.

You are probably thinking "how will she have time to write 365 letters?" Well, the answer is simple. I won't have time. I will have to make time.

I am a realist, so I know it will not be possible for me to write one letter every single day; therefore, I plan to write some letters in advance to accommodate my lifestyle (holidays, traveling, illness, etc.) As long as I write 365 of them in 2013, I will have reached my goal.

Letters can take many shapes and forms, and I plan to take advantage of that.  Over the next year, I will write letters of all kinds with all sorts of topics. It can be a note to my wife on the mirror, a note to a great server at a restaurant, a postcard, a note on a $5 bill for the homeless guy on the counter, a thank you note, a letter to a soldier overseas, words of encouragement on a post-it, etc. The letter might be personal, it might contain only jokes, it might even only contain five words, because sometimes the best things said are the shortest.

My only rule is that it has to be handwritten and it has to have a clear recipient. The only exception is if I write a letter to someone I have lost in my life, or someone to whom I have never met because unfortunately, I will never be able to send those letters. I will also certainly have repeats, as I have many loved ones with whom I will have many things to share.

The goal to this is to get back to the roots of communication in the best way possible; by taking the time out to make it personal.

I am open to ideas of any kind. I am open to accepting addresses from anyone.  I will blog about this weekly so you can keep up with my progress. Until then, wish me luck.

I only ask one thing of you: take time out of your day once in a while to leave someone a nice note, or to send a loved one a letter. We all learned how to write when we learned how to read, so don't let your skills go to waste.

Change someone's day, one letter at a time.

2013=365 Days of Letters

I have recently been tossing around an idea. It's kind of crazy, and it will take a lot of work and dedication. But it's 2012 and the primary way people contact each other is via social media, email, or texting. Sometimes even calling someone seems too much, like we are all "that" busy. I am a writer, and I personally love receiving notes and letters, whether it's in the mail, or a note on my bathroom mirror. My idea is, in 2013, to write 365 letters. Some to friends, some to family members, some to strangers. Maybe someone at a local nursing home doesn't receive any mail and would be uplifted to receive a note, or maybe the homeless guy on the corner would love to receive a note on top of a $5 bill, or maybe a lonely soldier overseas who doesn't have friends or family would appreciate a written note. I am not saying that people are going to jump up and down to get a letter from me, someone they don't know, because I know I am no more special than anyone else on this planet. But I do know that the loss of the written word is tragic and I know the affect of receiving a letter in the mail can have.

This is going to be a lot of work doing research, gathering addresses, finding worthy people/causes to write to, and to be honest, I don't even know what I would write. I guess therein lies the challenge. But I am up for it and I think it would not only make a difference in at least one person's life, but primarily, my own.

Untitled

I can't even title this post, because a few simple words cannot describe my thoughts and emotions that went into this.

Let me preface this by saying I am for stricter gun laws, I am all for school safety measures, and I am for people believing in religion; however, even with stricter gun laws, people will obtain guns illegally. The shooter in this tragedy just happened to have easy access. The Virginia Tech shooter did not have easy access, but due to lax gun control laws and the fact he had undergone psychiatric evaluations, he was still able to obtain his weapons legally. No matter what, people will always get what they want, all we can do is try to control the ease in which people obtain weapons.

Also, many schools, including Sandy Hook, have safety measures in place, safety measures that don't involve weapons. School shootings are an anomaly and really don't occur that often, which is why when they do, it's a terrible tragedy. We don't even flinch at murders and rape anymore because it happens so frequently. We are not affected by certain crimes anymore because they happen so often. The same with plane crashes; they are very rare considering how many flights occur around the world every single day, but when a plane crashes and lives are lost, it's a terrible tragedy. This particular school DID have acceptable safety measures in place, but metal detectors, armed guards/teachers, etc. are not the answer either. Children should not feel as though they have done something wrong when they enter the school, nor should they feel like they're in prison. School is an environment to learn, socialize, and be shaped into a good person.

Lastly, I've been seeing a lot of posts about God in schools and if public schools allowed prayer, this tragedy wouldn't have happened. This is not true. A shooting occurred in WI at a Sikh temple, a place of worship. God was there, wasn't he? Not to mention a lot of mass carnage crimes around the world occur IN THE NAME OF: (insert religious belief here). There have been countless incidents of mass carnage since humans existed, and it's always unexplainable. Churches, schools, gov't buildings, planes, etc. There have been shootings, stonings, bombings, genocides, etc. None if it makes sense. If you believe in the God your religion has specified, then you inherently believe he's everywhere and he is greater than human law; therefore, you could argue that he was in school that day, even though public schools don't allow public prayer.

Also, not EVERYONE is Christian. In fact, at least one of the kids that was killed was Jewish, as evidenced by the pictures of his family at his funeral yesterday. Judaism and Christianity are not the same religion. They believe in different things. What people are really saying, Christian people, is that public schools should allow THEIR God into schools. What if there are 699 Christian students in that school and only one Jewish student? Is it fair for that Jewish kid to have to sit through Christian prayer? Is it fair for Christian students to participate in Hannukah celebrations? No, because they don't believe in the same things. Isn't that what PRIVATE schools are for? It is impossible to allow every religion into public schools. It's not right, and it's not fair to others who believe in something else. And I've also seen posts about how this country was founded on religion and God. Last time I checked, within the constitution, this country was founded on a belief that it was possible to keep church and state separate, which is why so many immigrants came over, to escape religious persecution and control by their church.

With all this said, everyone has a right to believe what they want. I don't think having prayer in public schools is the answer. I don't think it's wrong for children or adults to pray silently no matter if they're in a school, a church, a bathroom, in bed, etc. But there's a reason that every religion has a church and a private school for those who want to have prayer in school. If you want to see prayer in your child's school, I suggest you enroll your child in a private school. For others who don't believe in what you do, don't push it on them. Public schools are public for a reason; they have all sorts of backgrounds, ethnicities, religions, etc. for a reason. To accommodate the masses.

What happened in CT was abhorrent. It was a tragedy that affected every child and every adult in America. It doesn't matter if it was Newtown, or your town, your family, your children. We are a collective whole so it happened to all of us. Just as 9/11 happened to all of us. Columbine happened to all of us. The families of those victims are affected in a way we will never understand, but as a collective whole, we share the same human emotion. This shooting was a crime that no rational mind will ever understand, and no matter how strict the gun laws are, how safe schools are, or whether or not kids pray in school, bad things will always happen because there is evil in this world. We will always overcome evil, but that doesn't mean that evil will not strike first. But when it does, we have to stand together, unite for the sake of humanity.

Now is not the time to argue about why this happened because no one knows. No one knows why this young man opened fire on innocent children. No one understands why terrorists hijack planes. No one understands how kids can kill their peers. No one understands how someone can take another person's life. It will never make sense to us because we are rational and these are irrational acts. The core issue with people who savagely take lives is in mental health. A sane, rational person cannot comprehend the thought process behind murder. Nor would they ever take a life unless theirs or a loved one's life was being threatened. Only a person who is irrational, severely mentally ill/disturbed, or just plain evil can take an innocent life. It will never make sense to us, it will only break our hearts trying to understand why.

The most we can do is have faith in each other, in your religion if that's what gets you through, and simply be a good person each day. Perform an act of kindness once a day because how you live your life can affect your loved ones, a stranger, and your community. You never know if a simple gesture like a smile, holding the door open for someone, assisting an elderly person, being nice to a shy kid in school, or just being kind to a stranger will affect the outcome of that person's day. Life is lived day by day, and it's our actions every day that affect us and the people around us. Be thankful for what you have, for who you are blessed to have in your life, and stop looking for answers you will never find. Remember the victims of the Sandy Hook shooting, as well as anyone else who has tragically lost their lives at the hands of evil. In order for good to exist, evil must exist alongside it. The answer is not more violence or weapons. The answer is not prayer in school. The answer is not treating schools like prison. The answer is within us, within humanity.

12 Naughty (Puppy) Days of Christmas

Written in the style of a naughty puppy...but I won't name names.

 

On the first day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the second day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the third day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For howling at seven lawnmowers trimming

Playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For growling at eight strangers walking

Howling at seven lawnmowers trimming

Playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For biting nine ankles dancing

Growling at eight strangers walking

Howling at seven lawnmowers trimming

Playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For pouncing on ten lizards leaping

Biting nine ankles dancing

Growling at eight strangers walking

Howling at seven lawnmowers trimming

Playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For eating eleven rolls of TP meant for wiping

Pouncing on ten lizards leaping

Biting nine ankles dancing

Growling at eight strangers walking

Howling at seven lawnmowers trimming

Playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas

My moms scolded me

For chasing twelve hobos bumming

Eating eleven rolls of TP meant for wiping

Pouncing on ten lizards leaping

Biting nine ankles dancing

Growling at eight strangers walking

Howling at seven lawnmowers trimming

Playing in six sprinklers spraying

Stealing five chicken wings

Barking at four blue birds

Hiding three fountain pens

Chewing on two leather gloves

And laying a turd under the Christmas tree.

Turning 30...

On 19 July 1982, Kathleen Kelly went into labor and gave birth to the most amazing person, MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! 30 years ago today, I entered this world basically only knowing how to cry and shit myself. Now, I still basically do the same thing; I’m just better at it.

Kidding; I don’t really shit my pants (although I have been known to pee the bed; insert joke here:                                   ). Come on, you know you want to. Okay fine, if you don’t want to joke about it yourself, allow me: Read my pissing the bed story here.

As much as I would love to claim I know everything because I’m 30 (which is so old, right?), I really don’t know much. I have learned a lot along the way, but it’s because of the people I have had and who are still in my life that I have learned the most important lessons from.  Without the people in my life or the experiences I’ve had, I would not be the person I am today and if I’m truly honest with myself, I may not even have lived long enough to see 30 (yes, I do make some dumb decisions and have put myself in precarious situations that quite frankly, I’m lucky to have gotten out of).

It’s taken me a long time to become the person I am today, but my favorite trait about myself is complete honesty. Honesty with other people, but mostly honesty with myself about who I am and what I want from life. If I can’t be completely honest with myself and others at the age of 30, then when?  Upon turning 30, I feel the need to reflect on some of my most memorable experiences that shaped me into the person I am and who knows, maybe I've learned and will share a few nuggets of wisdom as well.

I don't remember much from birth to age 4; I mean, anyone who claims they have early memories from those ages is an asshole. But, at age 4, I realized my dad was the coolest man on the planet when he showed up with an old school fire truck and parked it in our backyard. I don't know what reason for this, I just know it happened. My father isn’t the most patient person in the world, but neither am I. I am my father’s daughter, there’s no doubt. But there’s no one else I’d rather be. Good thing he redeemed himself with that fire truck because three years prior (and unbeknownst to me at the time cause I was a toddler), he dressed me up like a clown. Not cool.

By the age of 7, I realized the power of friendship. I also realized the power of jealousy and pettiness. Little girls can be amazing friends, but they can also be powerhouses of bitchiness and if you’re not careful with whom you choose to befriend, you can get burned. 1989 is when I first learned this lesson and I’m glad I learned it while young because it has saved me from a lot of heartache I’m sure. Although I’ve had friends hurt and burn me, thanks to my grade school playground experiences, I had the courage to handle it and move past it.  Most importantly, I learned the value of true friendship at an early age and can actually say that I have kept and nurtured young friendships that I started as a young girl and still have today.

At age 9, I knew I was different than other girls my age. Not necessarily in a "sexual" way, but more in a lifestyle way. I knew when they fawned all over pictures of Jonathan Taylor Thomas in Tiger Beat, I could care less. At this age, I thought it was because I had more important things to do than drool over boys, like ride my bike and do tricks or pick on my sister relentlessly until she cried. It wasn’t until later years I realized the reason I was different was because I felt differently about boys than they did. Boys were my best friends; not future lovers or soul mates. But in 1991, how does a 9 year old girl admit this to herself, let alone to other people? So, naturally I kept it inside and decided I would try being normal over the years to come. Keep in mind, I would never give up being a tomboy or dressing and acting like a boy, but at least I could try to like boys. And eventually, I genuinely ended up falling for a couple boys, not because I was expected to, but because I actually wanted to.

Turning 10 was one of my favorite birthdays for obvious reasons; not only was I 10 (HUGE milestone for a kid), but my parents made it a big deal. My dad borrowed an old school limo from his boss and cruised around town with us and I had all my friends come over because my mom made dirt cake with gummi worms. One of my fondest birthday memories. It’s hard to beat sharing a birthday with your own mom as the best birthday EVER, but over the next coming years, I will have some amazing birthdays. Like my 16th (Dad taught me to drive in reverse and how to parallel park because according to him "any moron can drive forwards". I mastered those two driving techniques and they have paid off. My 21st birthday (for obvious reasons), 24th birthday (huge house party at my house, walked home from the bars naked, and got retarded drunk), and especially my 28th birthday when Emily took me on a romantic getaway to St. Augustine. And now for my 30th birthday, we are headed to New Orleans!

Sharing a birthday with your own mother is something I cannot describe. Not only are we bonded by blood, but we are bonded by my mother doing the most selfless thing a person can do; give birth to another human being. All I have to say is Mom and Dad Kelly, thank you for creating me. I'm thankful to be alive every day!

In 1994 at 12 years of age, I came of age. My sister Kate and I walked downtown to see The Lion King and during the song Circle of Life, I got my very first period. Ironic, I know. As much as I tried to hide it, I had become a woman. Now, life was all about training bras, wet dreams, and shark week. I wasn’t happy about it, but what could I do?

At age 14, I met someone who I thought would be my soul mate forever. Sure, what do we know in junior high? Nothing. But I knew something was special about this boy. My parents weren’t crazy about him because he was kind of a weirdo (had long hair, listened to emo music, smoked pot, and had a mother who called herself Breeze Lyric or some shit like that). I didn’t care though; this kid was cool and he understood me. Our friendship would eventually become more in high school, but as life happens, we would lose touch. I still think about him from time to time and every time I do, a smile comes to my lips because I know he was my first love.

In 1999, I experienced my first true and devastating loss; my Grandpa Kelly. This is the second time in my entire life I have seen my father cry (the third and last time is when my parents dropped me off at college and Dad swears he had something in his eye, “pollen or some shit” as he said. Yea right Dad; just admit it. You were sad to drive away). The loss of my grandfather was profound.  And sad. But a piece of him lives on in my father and as he gets older, the similarities are uncanny. No doubt about that. Although his death was sad and took a toll on our family, Grandpa Kelly had set aside some money for Dad and because of that, we were able to enjoy the most amazing trip I have ever been on. Ireland in May 2000. (That is way too long of a story to even start now; someday though).

When my grandfather died, that was what I call an “old” loss. Simply because of his age. He had lived a great life and accomplished many things. But in 2000 at the age of 17, I would experience “young” loss by way of four friends perishing in a terrible car accident. Their deaths rocked the community and my peers equally as hard. No one knows what to say when a bunch of teenagers die tragically; all we could do was go to one funeral right after the other, share stories about them, and lean on each other when we collapsed from sadness. Although this experience was sad, it really taught me that life truly is precious and just because you’re young doesn’t make you exempt from tragedy.

At age 18, I moved away from home and started college. Learned what it was like to truly live on my own and to take responsibility for myself. Best lesson my parents ever taught me was to pay for my education on my own. Because of that, I truly appreciate the education I received and proudly hang my diploma in my home. I may not have a career in my chosen field, but in my heart I am a writer and will always be a writer. I still have a mountain of student loan debt, but I don’t care. I went to college; I earned my diploma and I earned the right to call myself a writer.

I graduated in 2005 but my graduation was overshadowed by another “old” loss; my great aunt Ada had died that week and her funeral was on the day I was set to graduate. She had been on the decline for quite some time but her death was still sad for everyone. She was certainly a special lady and I just wish she had been in the right state of mind (damn you Alzheimer’s) to know how amazing all of us children turned out to be. I know both Grandpa and Aunt Ada (the only grandparents I have ever known) would be proud of the woman I have become (being a lesbian and all; they would have LOVED Emily). 

The day I was looking forward to when I started college was finally here. 19 July 2003. I was officially 21. By this time, I had fallen in love with a boy I was going to marry. It took me a while to get on-board with the whole idea of marriage, but by the time I turned 21, I was willing to at least talk about a future with him. My 21^st birthday wasn’t epic by any means, but it was pretty amazing nonetheless. My roommates surprised me with an awesome cake and a night out on the town and that weekend we had a huge backyard party. I couldn’t have been happier at that moment; I had amazing friends, and amazing boyfriend, and I was finally legal to drink!!!

By the time I turned 24, I had been to amazing places like Ireland, Miami, Key West, Missouri (not amazing, but I had been there). I had friends come and go but the true ones stayed by my side no matter what, and I had partied my ass off. I also had two amazing nephews I couldn’t get enough of. But I had also experienced devastating loss and hardships. I had fallen in love with a boy, but we had broken each other’s hearts over the course of four years (sadly, I broke his heart more than he did mine; it wasn’t intentional, I was just honest). After I ended the engagement with him, it was time to truly be honest with myself for the first time in years. I was in love with a woman. I always wanted to be in love with a woman, and in 2006, I finally had the opportunity. But would she feel the same way? Whatever; it didn’t matter if she did or not. Something had changed in our friendship and I was determined to see it through to the end, even if that meant ending an engagement and losing her as a friend.

In 2008, my risky move paid off. Emily and I fell in love with each other and in spite of some negative feedback and reactions, we decided we would work super hard to change people’s minds because we were the real deal. We were meant to be together. I could feel it in my bones and in my heart. I had never and have never been happier than when I’m with her. To get a fresh start, we decided Wisconsin was no longer the place for us and migrated south to Florida. Best decision we’ve ever made for the sake of our relationship. It was difficult to leave behind family and friends, but if we hadn't, we would not have the relationships we have today. I think distance made some people's hearts grow fonder and it also taught them patience and acceptance. Emily and I worked extremely hard and never gave up on those people who we knew loved us but just couldn't accept our relationship right away. That's another important lesson I have learned; NEVER EVER GIVE UP.

By 2009, I was 27 and had learned a lot from my experiences, particularly ending a relationship with someone I didn’t love to starting one with someone I was in love with. The best feeling in the world is taking a chance on someone who is unpredictable and who could hurt you; but that same person could also be worth the risk and would never hurt you. The best advice I can give someone is if you’re not with the person who makes you the best person YOU can be, it’s time to get out. Love sometimes isn’t enough. Promises aren’t enough. You need to have that one person by your side that makes you humble and proud at the same time. If the person you have chosen to be with does not make you proud and humble, who does not accept your friends or your family (because let’s face it; with you comes friends and family and sometimes you have to suck it up), or who does not make you a better person every single day, you should get out while you have a chance. Emily not only makes me a better person, but a better friend, a better woman, and goddamn if I don’t worship the ground she walks on (and she knows it too).

In 2010 I was 28 and creeping closer to 30. I realized we weren’t married, we didn’t own a house, and we have a mountain of debt. But I didn’t care. I had what I had always wanted in my life—the love of a beautiful woman. We’ve been through a lot together; struggled with family issues—acceptance and rejection—and have also learned to love people for who they are, not “what” they are. Without Emily...well, let’s just say I have her to thank for a lot.

Today I turn 30. I have made my fair share of mistakes over the years; I’m human. But I learn from my mistakes and for some of those mistakes, I have made amends with some people; others my sincere apologies have been rejected for petty reasons such as an ancient grudge or an assumption I am the same person I used to be. Such is life. At least I can say I tried my hardest to accept the things I cannot change, and change the things I cannot accept.

In the spirit of being completely honest and upon turning 30, I’m happy to know I’m not the same person I used to be (angry and dishonest with myself and others, a temper that could only rival my father’s, and overprotective of the ones I love). As Darwin theorized, people evolve. I have evolved into someone not only I can be proud of, but that other people can be proud of as well.  Today, at the age of 30, I am blunt, brutally honest, sarcastic, humorous, and just awesome. I wouldn’t change that for anything.

Obviously a lot more has happened in my life, but I'm not writing an autobiography here; I'm simply reflecting on certain periods of time that have taught me important lessons about life, love, and happiness.

To all my loved ones: I am extremely thankful for the love and support I've gotten over the span of my 30 years. You all know who you are. Every single one of you has had an astounding affect on and presence in my life and I am forever grateful. If you're still in my life and know me well, you know I love you from the deepest depths of my heart and always will. To those of you I have lost along the way and are no longer here with us, I love and you miss you terribly. To those of you I have lost by way of losing a relationship for petty reasons, all I can say is you're missing out. That may sound selfish, but I don't care because it's true. I'm not a vain person, nor am I an egotistic SOB. I am just honest and I consider myself to be one of the most loving, caring, selfless people on this planet and the fact that you're not here to see it must suck for you.

One last thing: the most important lesson I’ve learned in 30 years, and the lesson I feel everyone should take to heart, is to be 100% truly and completely honest with yourself. If you’re not, you’re not fooling anyone else but yourself. And what kind of life is that? Not one I'd like to live ever again, because look what I have to show for being honest with myself:

 

Love Will Get You Higher

'Twas the Night Before a Lesbian Christmas...

‘Twas the night before their lesbian Christmas, when all through the house

Not a body part was stirring, not even under her blouse.

The Birkenstocks were hung by the lawnmower with care,

And they hoped that St. Nicholas was actually a sexy woman named Claire.

The lesbians were nestled all snug in their bed,

While visions of granola and Subarus danced in her head.

And Emily in her nightie and I in my corduroy pajama pants from the Gap,

Had just tucked in our papayas for an unusual Florida cold snap.

When out on the lawn there arose such loud obnoxious chatter,

I sprang from my bed and swear I heard my fat cat scatter.

Away to the window I ran in a flash,

Opened the curtain and landed against the wall with a loud crash.

Surprisingly I did not awaken my sleeping lesbian ho,

For she would have been as surprised as I when I saw what was below.

When, what to my curious eyes should appear,

But a brand new Jeep Wrangler and a pack of lesbians with eight cases of beer.

With a hefty and loud driver, a hick with a kick,

I knew in a moment this lesbian was that kind of chick.

Faster than she could say the L-word, her Reindykes they came,

And she whistled and waved and called them by name.

“Now Cynthia! Now, Amy Ray! Now, Ellen and Portia,

On KD Lang! On Melissa! On Tegan and Sara!

To the garage! To the shed! To the porch!

Time to install the decks and the Tiki torch!

As fast as these women can throw and dodge a ball,

They erected a backyard lesbian oasis without a brawl.

To the house and garage these women flew,

With a Jeep full of sex toys, softballs, and fanny packs too!

And then in the moment, I heard from one of the back decks,

The stomping of boots like a pack of gay rednecks.

As I closed the curtain and heard a loud click,

In through the door was Rosie O’Donnell, dressed like St. Nicholas as a chick.

She was all dressed in LL Bean flannel from head to toe,

And her chin was stained with a white powder that looked like blow.

A bundle of feminist literature and sports gear she had in her sack,

And as she bent over, I got a good look at her crack.

Her hands—how they were calloused! Her arms so thick!

Her cheeks were as red as apples and her hair was so slick!

Her big mouth was wide open like a cave,

And the beard on her chin needed a good shave.

The end of a joint she held tightly ‘tween her lips,

And the smoke billowed around her body, even around her hips.

She had a broad face and a big beer gut,

That wobbled when she coughed and even shook her butt.

She was chubby and plump, a typical older lesbian,

And I laughed when I saw her until she gave me the look of a demon.

A sly smirk and a wave of her arm,

Soon gave me to know she meant me no harm.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to work,

Filled all our Birkenstocks, but ignored our Doc Martens (what a jerk).

With her sack empty she walked towards the door,

She gave me a quick nod and ambled out like a wild boar.

She lumbered towards her Jeep, and to the Reindykes she gave a yell,

And away they drove into traffic of South Florida, also known as hell.

But I heard them exclaim, as they drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to you lesbians, and to you a gay night!”

Twats and Tiaras

I need to ask a serious question that only a small percentage of America's population is asking...

WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT KIM KARDASHIAN???????????

I just don't understand it. Why do people care so much about these idiots? Why are there so many shows that feature this family? And why is this family famous?  The Kardashian family's fame is more more mysterious than whether or not there's actual life on Mars.

For those of you who don't know (so, anyone who lives under a rock and has no contact with any human being, a telephone, or a TV) the latest celeb scandal is Twatdashian # 1 and a b-ball player are getting divorced after 72 days of marriage.

Um, so what? Right?  That's what I thought at first too.

After reading a few headlines in the grocery store, and while reading the headlines on the screen while I watched Georgia Rule on E! the other night, I felt like I had morning sickness, food poisoning, syphilis, and the flu; that's how nauseous I was. Sickened at the fact that Americans are acting as if they are being torn apart by this divorce; acting as if it is ruining their personal lives.  I mean, it's not as awful as childhood obesity, rising airplane tickets, the state of our economy, and our relationship with Mexico at the border. THESE are things to be upset about!

Or so I told myself.

The news of KK and her husband divorcing is the most annoying thing that's been on the news since Sarah Palin was the VP candidate, OJ was acquitted, and the Balloon Boy conspiracy.  People are reacting to this news in the same way they reacted when Pope John Paul II died in Italy and MJ died in LA.  People are sobbing in the streets, tweeting words of condolences, and acting as crazy as the zombies in Zombieland. WTF?

Then I realized the news of this divorce didn't go in one ear and out the other like other celeb gossip.  This divorce had actually pissed me off!!!

This entire multi million dollar celebrity marriage is a sham and the news of their divorce has gotten more airtime than the Olympics.  I am pissed because everyone thinks it's us queers who will ruin the sanctity of marriage, but they're wrong. It's celebrities and straight couples who ruin the sanctity of marriage. Britney's 55 hour marriage. Liz Taylor's 108 marriages and 107 divorces. The cheating couple LeAnn Rimes and Eddie Cibrian. I mean, what's next? Are celebs and straights going to wreck the sanctity of funerals and taking craps too?

This divorce means that yet another famous couple is abusing the privilege of marriage while people like Emily and I cannot even TRY marriage for one day in our state. One day! Kim and Kris got 72 days, so why can't I get just one? I'll tell you why.  Because they're twats who do whatever they want while Emily and I are real, hardworking, honest people who cannot get married simply because we're both women.  Real neat America. Real fucking neat.

Because I'm giving myself the authority to do so, I'm going to crown Kim Kardashian as 2011's Queen Twatwaffle. It's like the female version of King Douche, which has been reserved for Kris Humphries. If Kim were sitting next to me and I had a bedazzled tiara, I would totally cram it up her bleached anus.  Which is probably not the first or last thing that's ever been crammed in her cramhole.  My guess is there has probably been a microphone, a foot (or a fist), and one of Bruce Jenner's gold medals up in that Armenian Anus once or twice.

Side note, but still related: This is the Queen Twatwaffle runner up contestant.  Not only did she make a collage of magazine pictures of America's Sweetfarts, but she is obviously brain dead. You NEVER use scotch tape on a collage; always RUBBER CEMENT.

Book Blurb

This is a description of my debut book.  If you were to read this description on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or on the back of the actual book, would you be inclined to pick it up and read it and/or purchase it on your Kindle/Nook?

KC Kelly is not your average female.  She was often mistaken for a boy for the better part of the 90’s.  She considered becoming a stripper named KoCo Puff to supplement her income in college.  She has slept with a superhero and dumped her fiancé (for another woman, no less) four days before the wedding.  KC is a woman who is rapidly and clumsily approaching thirty and the only things she has to show for it are an abused liver, a muffin top, and this collection of hilarious, and often self-deprecating essays, You Look Like a Boy (And Other Shamefully True Tales of a Midwestern Girl).  These essays capture some of the most humiliating mishaps and hilarious exploits only the most idiotic female this side of the Mason-Dixon line could experience.

Essay topics include delightful gems such as:

Being a tomboy—“I had the Justin Bieber cut way before that girl was even born.”

Becoming a woman—“The word "puberty" for me was synonymous with "atomic bomb", "end of days", and "FML".”

Losing her virginity—“Me stripping is about as hot and sexy as watching a toothless lunch lady and a bald janitor have sex in a dumpster behind the high school.”

Playing sports—“I am as coordinated as a legless gymnast who suffers from vertigo and as graceful as a ribbon dancer in a straight jacket.”

The male EX fiancé—“ I felt like I was the parent of a special needs child.  Everyone looked at him as if he had ridden the short bus to the house party.”

The current female fiancée—“Without her teaching me to have more patience with stupid people, I probably would have killed someone by now.  It's no secret I have a "hit list" in a framed magnet on my fridge.”

Supplemental income—“My parents made it sound like I was a prostitute who makes money by lying on my back like a starfish for some creep in a dirty hotel room near the city dump.”

Germs—“I swear serial killers have better manners and hygiene than 99% of people who travel on airplanes.”

Having children—“I’m far too selfish; I drink alcohol in massive quantities, swear like a pirate, and am completely irresponsible.  Plus I barely know how to wipe my own ass. Trust me, my future baby thanks me for waiting.”

Since she is often the butt of her own jokes and has absolutely no humility, there is no topic that is off limits in KC Kelly’s debut book. Her collection of entertaining essays is sure to appeal to anyone who has ever suffered from shame, embarrassment, Open Mouth Insert Foot Disease, or bad indigestion.