hallmark be damned.

i hate hallmark movies, i really do.
so what did i do tonight?
i watched the one i recorded on our DVR.
The Russell Girl was good.
your everyday standard, tear jerker Hallmark movie.
the summation is:

Everyone in Sarah Russell’s small hometown knows her story, but no one is talking about it. Sarah, the picture-perfect girl-next-door, took a job in Chicago thinking she could escape memories of a tragic accident she blames on herself. But when she receives some unsettling news, Sarah decides to return home and try to heal old wounds.

As understanding and support come from unexpected sources, Sarah’s story becomes a journey toward forgiveness and hope for the future.

the story has its similarities.
a bit unsettling, actually.
she pushes what she needs and wants away because she doesn't think she deserves it.
she thinks she's unworthy.
she thinks her cancer is the product of karma for what happened.
that's interesting to me.
if that line of thinking proves true,
then was that tree and the windshield karma for my father?
everything that he caused over the decades to certain specific individuals,
all the pain and heartache that has lasted for decades,
is all that supposed to be erased and righted by the tree and the windshield?
i try my best to not dwell on this thing,
as i have truly lost nothing.
but it keeps finding its way to the forefront of my thoughts.
all the lies,
all the deception,
the pain,
the hurt,
the anger,
the disapointments,...
i am sorry, but that tree and that windshield just cannot undo all that he created.
granted, the asshole can't create anymore pain and decadence for anyone,
but still.
they are not magical erasers.
there are no do overs in this life.
there are second chances,...
and third and fourth and fifth...
but when you make an discerning conscious decision to ignore and/or refuse those chances,
then does that make one ignorant or "just plain stupid"?
addicts cannot reap their given chances for help.
greed was his addiction.
and pride.
he didn't care what it cost him in life,
but what it cost him was his life.

reba and kelly, ellis and obama.

Where do I begin?!

First of all, I wish to extend my deepest thanks and never ending appreciation to Joey for his amazing generosity.
Words cannot express the depths of my gratitude.
Your gifts will never be forgotten.

Everything has its place and time, so they say.
This adage could not have been truer on the day of January 25, 2008.

After being totally and completely entranced by the "Reba room,"
a tank of gas, a quick stop at the Huddle House to check up on
Billy, we were on our way to Winston-Salem North Carolina for
our fifth row "Reba & Kelly Clarkson, 2 Worlds 2 Voices TOUR 2008."

On the ride up there, hell for that matter, the entire time, we were
the biggest most *psychotic* fanatical Reba dorks around.

After a scary ride through the ghetto, and *stalking* observing the
tour buses, we settled upon an IHOP for food. Then it was back
across the street to the convention center.

There were two radio DJ booths in front of the convention center
for the early birds, like us. At the first booth, was a raffle that we
entered to win random prizes, including backstage passes. But the drawing would be at seven,
and we were not about to stand in the 35° weather for about 40 minutes, so back to the car we went.

However, on the way back to the car we heard the second radio
DJ announce their contest for backstage passes. We looked at
each other and made a beeline for that booth. Turns out it was a
karaoke contest. They would play a few seconds of part of a
Reba song, turn the song off, and you had to sing as much as you
could, getting the lyrics correct. Well I knew that this would not
be a problem, as the two of us happened to be the biggest Reba
dorks either side of the Mason Dixon.

The lady in front of us had the song Fancy,… which everybody
knows. But what did she do? She BOMBED it. Like, seriously. This
woman should be ashamed to call herself a Reba fan.

Then Joey gets up there. His random song was Little Rock. My
friends, this is a 1986 release. To no surprise, he nailed it. And I
mean that he nailed it like Tommy Lee nailed Pamela Anderson. I
was standing about 3 to 5 feet in front of him screaming the lyrics
along with him like a damn fool. And what happens next? Wham
bam, thank ya ma'am...he wins us backstage passes to meet Reba.

Little did we know, that we would also be meeting Kelly as well.

Though he had me beat on the number of Reba concerts
attended, this would be my second time meeting a Reba, his first.
You can only imagine the sheer pandemonium that followed.


Fast forwarding… Reba is as beautiful as she was in person in '97.
No I take that back, more beautiful. And good goddess, Kelly is
smokin. The thighs on her…could make me believe in God. There
is no better high than meeting the Reba in person. None.


So let me fast forward a little bit more... the concert was
phenomenal. Only the truest of Reba fans who have attended her
concerts in recent years would know that her voice just can't hit
the notes that it once could. But my dears, Kelly brought out the
best in Reba. Mrs. McEntire once again has managed to resurrect
the emotion and the heartiness back into her concerts. The
concert left you lacking for nothing. It can be said that this
particular concert can be undoubtedly compared to the Reba
concert circa the 1990s. It was simply amazing.

(Pictures will be posted at a later time,
as I have a Bio 101 test tomorrow that I have failed to study for.
Yeah, I know. Boo on me.

"Oh wait, what was I busy doing, you ask? Oh I was having a little
pow-wow time with mah buddies Reba and Kelly Clarkson. What
were YOU doing? Yeah, that's what I thought.")

Needless to say, when I crawled into my bed at 3:30 a.m., I was
one happy tired little white girl.

Now, I must do some bragging on my twin brothers. On Saturday
they were in Columbia to go to the zoo when they stopped in at
Harpers restaurant for a bite to eat. Who walks in? Barack
Obama. Yeah. Ellis was the one who spoke to Obama. He even
made it on NBC Nightly News. That is the national news, yall.
Then, a reporter from the Boston Globe interviewed him.
Underneath this is the story. (However, the picture is Ellis's REINACTMENT of the face Obama made when Ellis
asked him the question he asked.)

I am the happiest girl in the world.

Peace and Love,
Sarah.



Obama gives diners a lunch rush

Email|Link|Comments (0) Posted by Scott Helman, Political Reporter January 26, 2008 03:06 PM




COLUMBIA, S.C. -- On today's lunch menu: Soup, salad, and Barack Obama.

Diners at Harper's Restaurant just off Columbia's downtown got a special visit
today from Obama, who was making a final pitch for votes as South Carolina
Democrats went to the polls. He spent about a half-hour greeting the lunch
and brunch crowd, stopping by nearly every table to pose for photographs
and exchange pleasantries.

"I might get to shake hands with the future president!" one woman said
excitedly into her cell phone as Obama arrived. As Obama began to work his
way around the room, he approached a family gathered around a big table and
said, "How's it going, everybody?" Then he grabbed a white napkin off their
table and wiped his hands. "I got a little juice on me," he said.

Beverly Wilburn, a cook at the restaurant, came out of the kitchen to greet
him. "You got my vote," she told him. "All right." Asked if she had voted yet,
Wilburn said, "As soon as I get off of work."

But Obama didn't have it so easy with Ellis and Alex Caulkins, precocious 12-
year-old twins from Florence, S.C. "Hey, Obama, what are you going to do
about foreign policy?" Ellis asked, telling Obama he didn't seem to be making
many campaign promises. Obama reiterated his vow to get American troops
out of Iraq, then asked the twin boys what they were doing today. Ellis
explained that they were headed to Riverbanks Zoo and Garden in Columbia.
"That sounds fun," Obama said, before the boys' grandfather pulled them away.
"Let's go eat, boys, time to eat," he said.

Back at his table, Ellis said he wasn't satisfied with Obama's answer, but
admitted he had something of an agenda. "I don't want another Democrat," he
said, professing admiration for Rudy Giuliani and John McCain. "We have
enough of them."

Fortunately for Obama, Ellis will be at the zoo today, not at a polling place.

·

fucking pets.

the pain is so intense.
i hate when it gets like this;
cold + rainy.
arthiritis and tendonitis are bitches from bush's asshole.

i am doing an absolutely fabulous job at procrastinating to study for my Bio test.
i just can't seem to get the "get up and go" required to do well in school this semester.
i dunno why.
this shit is taking FOREVER.
and i'm not even halfway done.

rosie got a new puppy.
a 2.5 lbd chihuahua named Missy.
the irony does not escape me.
i am tired of sick dogs, though.

EVERY TIME we turn around,
its barf or shit.
the joys of parenting weenie dogs.
harley is far from perfect, but he's perfect for me.
and jack ass...
/sigh.
he's gonna make me go gray.
i love him with all of my heart,
but i am DONE with weenie dogs.
no more for us.

what i can't stand is when we get so furious at him,
then his puppy dog hound dog eyes give the saddest, most pathetic look either side of the mason-dixon.
he is a ROTTEN dog, i tell you.
and yes, i realize its my fault.
i am perfectly aware of this fact.
he's such a jack ass.

we're on round 37669965469023456789976345678 with our fish tank.
we still have our female betta, shirley.
added to the mix is:
Pea, Chunk, and oh shit, wait, wait...
i forget.
i forgot my goldfish's name.
well fuck.
(ha. 3 second memory. hey! maybe THAT'S why they ram the glass?)

i have the bestest wifey.
my snuggley wuggley takes superb care of me.
i simply adore her.
well,
i adore everything except her farts.
because "LAWD JESUS HELP ME"...
them's some goddess awful smellin things.

FUCKING PETS.

truth and love.

The mysterious wicked van Gogh who visits me every time I bow my head to sleep
paints relentless images on the walls of my eye lids that are hindrances to my state of awareness.
Images of an abuser lying in his casket.
This repeated image fails to conjure up emotions such as fear, hatred, trepidation, and a deeply rooted wretchedness that seems to have once floated past the roots beneath the surface of my soul.
I try to persuade the perpetual image to leave my mind,
Diversion exercises and focal points be damned.
A shocking number of people showed to mourn these two people.
The little girl whose hair he once grabbed to jerk her head so he could yell at her to tell her that Reba McEntire was a whore… that little girl, she wanted to stand up on top of his casket with a megaphone to tell everybody that this man that they were grieving for was a liar.
This was a man who said something so heinous when I was born that nobody will tell me what it was.
This was a man who told me, rather, screamed at me that I was too big of a bitch for him to leave me anything in his will.
This was a man who could barely look at me, if at all.
Just as blood clots cause cardiac infarctions,
his hatred caused his blood to coagulate.
This was a man who prized his barbecue sauce recipe more than his own children.
He was embarrassed to be seen in public with me.
He berated me as a child for the outfits that I would wear these sporadic times he would take me out.
He was livid that I wore cowboy boots to a rodeo.
He was always worried about his precious reputation…
I guess he outdid himself on this one.
When the coroner's report comes back the world will see what a drunken fool he was,
That my accusations over the course of the past 25 years were not just mere rhetoric.
The hatred that once flowed through him was ultimately his demise.
Hatred is like acid,
it will eat you up and kill you.
Thank heavens for my filters,
my mom, my Nana, my Mawmaw, Steve, my friends,…
and my wife.
If it weren't for them I would be spiraling down the rabbit hole towards my demise.
I, too, would have that very hatred clogging my arteries.
Thank heavens for love.
Because in the end my dear friend,
it is both truth and love that will set you free.

ugh.

i hate when i can't sleep.

sucks.

sweet dreams...

my reprieve found its way to me via joey, through a pair of FIFTH row reba and kelly clarkson tickets. yee of little faith.

he sinks lower, i raise higher.

a wonderful friday night composed of a BFF, my honey, her folks and Beaufort stew with Alaskan King Crab Legs thrown into the mix.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HHBO2yIyk8#

commence the spatula fetching.

the infamous dr finch of running with scissors
could be in the running with the therapist whom i met today.
upon entering the "business" establishment,
one would observe the "staff" huddling outside for relentless smoke breaks.
then the smell of wet dog greets you merrily in the waiting room.
the stench is matched visually by the enormous pet shit & piss stains adorning the decades old carpet.
you couldn't help but to slowly realize that this place seeped with black mold,
aspestos,
and lead paint.
a circus like popcorn machine defied all shades of dhec regulations,
and the receptionist/nurse horribly ignored all hiipa violations.
"ms rudd, thank you for coming to walgreens, you're seroquil approved by the receptionist/nurse has been called in."
this lady (the receptionist/nurse) reminded me of the girl who's smoked for her entire life since her uncle molested her,
so she whored herself out as the lot lizard in the local bar parking lot.
THEN there's her co-worker, Debbie.
let's discuss Debbie.
her husband is being challenged to a paternity test because another woman
told him to deposit his sperm in a cup and she'd do the job herself.
you see, she wanted a baby real bad...
"you get what i'm sayin."
(apparently, this is the summation of all sentences that exit Debbie's lovely trashy mouth.)
one is under the impression that the "doc" lives here,
hires addicts/recovering addicts,
is a pot smoking, anti war left over 50s reject hippie,
who leaves his RX pads in an open box on the floor in front of you.
the decor that gave the office its...*thinks what word to insert here*...
"ecclectic" taste...
is hippie meets trailor trash meets dog hoader meets crack house flavor.
i was expecting a let's see if its a message from god and
"hoist the coiled turd."
somebody fetch my spatula, s'il vous plait.
running with scissors, indeed.

intervention.

apparently, i've been to drug rehab on my "Father's" dime.

*buzz*
intervention needed!!

...oh wait.
the bastard's dead.
you can't have an intervention above a grave.

better.

After much contemplation,
I will be taking the high road out.
After years of building a protective barrier around my childhood memories,
and of thinking that I was invincible to the hatred,
one night of stupid decisions and a painfully short paragraph,
the dam sprung a leak.
Trickling through were forgotten memories,
which are the fabric of my scarred psyche.
Never have I been a real daughter,
so being reduced to a brutal paragraph should not have been as shocking.
His fall from grace was looming overhead,
but his legacy is for all the world to see.
A man who looked down on everybody else
because he was too good for them,
is now the drunken fool who has left a path of destruction more grand than post Katrina New Orleans.
I will not be the dog who chases its tail;
his damning untruthful words about me will not come into fruition.
If this world is a stage,
then I will not be the class dunce for the world to laugh at.
Never my dad,
always my genetic donor.
Thank heavens for my mama’s side of the family,…
for, it weren’t for them, I would have that same hate coursing through my veins.
The following songs have taken an entirely new meaning for me:
I'm a Survivor by Reba McEntire,
Because of You by Kelly Clarkson and Reba McEntire,
and I Wonder by Kellie Pickler.
More than ever, I have become a staunch advocate for the theory of “nurture, not nature.”
My proof are pit bulls.
Just like me, genetically they have a monster lying dormant within them.
If raised in a gentle, loving, firm environment then they can grow up to be the most wonderful, loving pets that one can imagine.
But if raised in a hateful, seething, blood thirsty environment, then no doubt remains that it will grow up to be a monster.
The legacy that this “man” is leaving behind it is not me,
because for the first time in my life I truly FELT it…
I AM BETTER THAN HIM.
I am better than him.

tired.

the first day back to school is always nerve racking.

math class has an overly peppy teacher
and bio is THREE HOURS long.
suck on that, bitches.
5 minutes in there seemed like an hour.
ugh.
thank goodness that suffrage is only once a week.

therapy tomorrow,
hearing aid maintenance in charleston on wednesday...
finally.

"and the world takes a collective sigh of relief." -sophia patrillo

i am tired.

thankful.

but tired.

lunacy at its finest.

'disinherited.'


too much information pouring in.


cheryl is my neutral place, my solice.


decisions.
a fork in the road.
actually, more like a spork.

down the hatch, because here it goes.

relationships.

People keep inquiring about my state of mind,
But I am unsure as to what to say.
Inside my heart and soul lies a melting pot of a potpourri of rampant emotions.
It doesn’t seem right,
People carrying on with their everyday lives
When he and his wife are six feet under.
Not that my life has ever revolved around them,
But this all seems so surreal, unnatural.
It isn’t like a nightmare,
It is more like a hindering thought that is fucking persistent as hell.
Another total burden right now is my teeth.
I broke down today and called my doctor,
Begging him to fit me in asap.
I got some serious antibiotics, painkillers, and snoz spray.
Cheryl has my painkillers,
So there’s no need to worry.
I’ve got to call my therapist tomorrow and start that all over again.
I’m eager to do so.
I do not want to keep this stuff bubbling beneath the surface,
Awaiting a maddening volcanic explosion.
I cannot afford that;
I have too much at stake.
I’m going to put my whole heart into these new sessions,
And throw myself head first into this semester.
I’m doing so good,
I’m proud of myself.
I’m not as far along as I’d like to be,
But that is what progress is for.
I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions.
However, this year is an exception:
I will not drown in the life threatening undertow that is the Barrs.
This year is all about relationships.
Valuing them,
Solidifying them,
And just enjoying them.
Because I have recently concluded that they are what life all about.