I’d like to issue a blanket statement to all the dumb broads fawning over my brother.

1. Just because you fucked him, does not mean that you and I will become friends. For that matter, just because we met once does not mean I want anything else to do with you.

2. Just because you and I are both chicks, does not mean I will abide by some “girl code” and put in a good word in for you. Frankly, the man comes to the East coast for one week a year and you seem to have deluded yourself into thinking that sex=relationship.

3. You’re an idiot.

4. Tagging me in some cockamamie bullshit on Facebook will only make me want to punch you in the ovary.

Example:

5. Refrain from asking me personal questions about his tastes, likes, dislikes, ways of thought, ways of acting…or ANYthing about him. If he doesn’t want to tell you, why the hell would I?

6. I repeat: do not, do not, do not, DO NOT ask me to talk to my brother on your behalf. Fuck you and that stupid high horse you rode in on.

7. Don’t dawdle. I don’t want to see your face the next morning. Frankly, I may puke on it from you making my poor ears BLEED the night before. Learn to be quiet, K? Or, I don’t know, GET A FUCKING ROOM SOMEWHERE ELSE.

8. Don’t piss me off. Blood is thicker than water and he won’t take too kindly to that.

Better yet, I’ll just let him do the “talkin’” for me.

…’nuff said.

Today, I awoke in a tizzy at o’ dark-thirty and haven’t yet been able to shake the feeling. It’s an unnerving ability of mine to work myself into this lovely array of crazy.

And it fucking sucks.

I’m trying to work towards my dream. I want to make my future brighter and  financially stable and to do so requires further education. This, of course, requires money.

Therein lies the issue.

My credit is in shambles and I’ve deferred my previous student loans more often then I’ve paid money towards them.

I want this so badly I can almost taste it. When I sat in the office of admissions last Friday, I almost drooled over my paper work from the mere excitement. And then I went on a journey of hunting for scholarships. And then I ordered my transcripts. And THEN I went back through said transcripts to remind myself of how I did during undergrad.

Let me tell you, it. was. bad. It was so bad that I became embarrassed all over again and am carrying the shame like a wet blanket.

While there were many extenuating circumstances for my grades being so piss poor, least of which were my academic abilities, I just can’t help but feel … stupid.

I am scared to death that I am biting off more than I can chew and that I will do just as bad as I did before.

I’m afraid of failure.

And it is suffocating.

So, one of our fellow (and widely beloved) bloggers is going through what I like to call a hiccup. And by hiccup, I really mean an entirely fucked up situation that leaves the rest of us scratching our heads and wondering how life can be so cruel. And despite this, she’s been holding up pretty damn well – at least from the angle we see. She’s witty and funny and kind and appreciated around the globe.

It’s funny how wide spread us bloggers really are, ain’t it?

When I first began writing in this particular forum (aka the blogosphere), she was one of the few whose blogs I read. Even though we’re thousands of miles apart, I feel a kinship with her, as I do with many of you.

When I heard that someone she cares for deeply was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, my heart broke for her.

So, it is with absolute great pleasure that I present you with the following video. It is the brainchild of Maxie & Lilu that morphed into a project wide arching and blog approved. It’s not a cure, but I hope that it brings Brandy a big smile.

Brandy, I can’t give you real hugs so here’s to the next best thing (I’m e-toasting you with an e-beer. One day we shall really toast with a real beer. One day!)

***
Lilu, thank you for slaving over the video footage for hours and scrapping this together.

To all those in the video, thank you too. Because sometimes it’s just nice to do something nice.

If you’d like to help or get more information on Multiple Myeloma, please visit loveharder.org

Some of you know that I’m now 28 years old. Those of you who are similar in age have  likely been through the same sort of dramz I’ve gone through because it appears to cling to people in their twenties, especially the push and pull dialogue between us and the parental units.

The thing is, our parents are often pretty good at making valid points. Something the majority of us didn’t even want to comprehend as teens. So it’s nice that we’re smarter and wiser and all that shit.

But that doesnt mean there aren’t ever any arguments. And what really boils my bubble in my particular situation is that I can clearly see when The Parent is just antagonizing a situation, instead of speaking civilly.

I imagine that the last 30ish years have steeled her to be more abrasive than necessary. But the thing is, I’m pretty much the only one left anymore. So picking fights with me is just asinine. And I hate, hate, hate it.

More importantly, how does one sit down and have a civil conversation with The Parent about how uncivil it is to just fly off the rocker?  I get that I’m the “kid” in this situation but that doesn’t automatically equate to me being wrong too.

I’m no teenager. And to an extent I can see how it’s difficult for her to let go of that mentality. But for fuck’s sake, I wish she’d calm the hell down.

Dr. King,

I just wanted to say thanks. Without your determination and sheer will, the civil rights movement couldn’t have been the same. It’s people like you that paved the road for people like me to lead a fulfilling life. Frankly, if it weren’t for the movement, I may never have been born. 14 years before my birth it was still illegal for interracial couples to get married in my state. And, well, I’m a product of an interracial marriage.

Anyway, this wasn’t meant to be long. I just wanted to say thank you. And wish you a very happy birthday.