Today, I am incredibly thankful for pro-gun activists.
I finally found a volunteer political gig that will scare my stalker away.
Bring it....
I'm going to do volunteer work for pro-gun lobbyists.
I hope I can do public speaking. I love public speaking. Hypnotizing audiences is my cup of tea.
They probably won't let me do any speaking.
That's okay. I'll be safe in that crowd because all my buddies will be armed.
Sadly, no, I can't make sense of the stalking. I'm pissed as hell but I've got a plan. It's obnoxious...but it's a plan.
Wish I could tell you more. If you're my stalker, you'll see soon enough.
Love ya,
S.
P.S. About my weird post yesterday.
I don't know what the heck happened but all systems on the left upper quadrant of my body are normal.
I'm never, ever mixing sleeping pills with nyquil and migraine meds ever again while sleeping next to my psychiatric library.
I fell asleep perusing a vintage copy of Seeing With the Mind's Eye. It's about cancer. Maybe my subconscious mind wanted to give me a thrill.
It was weird.
I woke up and found a weird sight.
My left breast was squished and bruised and red in the darnedest way. It scared the holy heck out of me. My nipple was all bent out of shape. I googled the symptoms and it came back as a marker of breast cancer.
My daddy was Cherokee and he shared with me recipes of some of the craziest concoctions. There is a recipe of cancer fighting soup and I always have the ingredients on hand. I'm thinking of making it but it is the most disgusting stuff on the planet. I think it is called essiac or something. I'll whip some up. If you see me making a disgusting face, it's me burping up the soup. No disgusting face could ever be about you.
No, it's not made of pot. The ingredients are burdock root, some turdy looking herb that tastes like dirt and a couple of other things. Google essiac and you can find a couple of variants of the recipe.
I don't like taking it because it tends to give me vertigo. I have trouble with anemia and keeping electrolytes in my body. I think it is a throwback to my anorexic days. Gatorade is my friend.
Still...I never want to see my left boob look like a Picasso painting ever again, so I'm taking the tea.
I doubt it is cancer. I think it was a lesson in sleep hygiene.
I think that my lesson was to not fall asleep next to hardcover books. They can squish your assets and make them contort in funny ways.
I also have been hiding a couple of dollars in my bra. Maybe that pushed things around a bit, too.
I'll start utilizing a trick my stripper sister taught me. I'm going to pin my money to my St. Eve undies.
It'll be frightening for young men to watch me check out at the stores. Those poor 'lil babies. Old ladies don't look near as fun as the young things they like to check out.
At least I have some survival cash now.
I'll get through this.
Live and learn.
Love,
S.