Nothing says “lovin” like a face tattoo.

No seriously.  Wait.  What?  Why in the hell do you have stars on your cheeks and a Tweety Bird on your neck?


Don’t get me wrong.  Body art is something that is very personal, but just like everything in life, if I think it’s ridiculous, I will make a joke out of it.  Usually I would assert the position of “Oh you have tattoos? Let me remove all my clothes.”  Luckily for me, my boyfriend has quite the assortment of ink, none of which include Looney Tunes, Calvin and Hobbs, or something randomly picked off the shop’s wall on his 18th birthday, so this is a hypothetical letter to the man who just decided it was OK to hit on me while I am at work:


Dear Raul,

I am calling you Raul because I just happen to think that is a funny name.  What about me quietly typing at my desk said “Please come interrupt me”?  Or tell me how “I gots it goin’ on”?  I must warn you, I am most lethal when I am calm and smiling.  Yet, if you feel the need to show off in front of your “bro”, I cannot stop your stupidity.  Though, I have the sudden urge to hit you in the face with a Clue-By-Four, this was even more evident as I walked away.  You must have misinterpreted me quickly evacuating the area as an invitation to follow me and continue rambling about your stupid life.


So….again….for the 9th time, I will NOT be attending this “thang” at the bowling alley.  And as for that Monster Energy tattoo on your shoulder… It really tells me what I need to know about your addiction to meth and predilection for poor life choices .



Try me asshole, I define unstable.

Babies…. Nuff Said

Today while perusing my FaceBook, I was bitch slapped with reality. Here I was writing about hating babies and using their tender bodies to make a stew, but a good friend was out there and he desperately wanted to start a family. I contemplated that maybe he was just hoping to start a good recipe collection as well, but I am certain I am wrong. This about HIM, not me.


Adam and I met in middle school, WAY BACK IN THE DAY ya’ll. Even then I knew he was meant for great things. Clearly he was a patient and tolerant person. He was friends with me after all, and that is no easy feat. He kept me awake through English class and we laughed while hanging out with mutual friends. He was the most kind spirited person I had probably ever had the pleasure of knowing. As the years went on, as they do, our lives went in different directions. Thanks to the joys of FaceBook, I was able to stay in contact and follow his life. And one day he fell in loooovvveee. **Cue the song “Unchained Melody”**


Adam met Eric about 7 years ago, and in the most fabulous of fashions, he proceeded to slam the door on the love of his life on the first date. Literally people, not figuratively. Adam was set up on a blind date and had one of those terrific freak outs when he saw this man on the other side of front door. He slammed the door out of disbelief. He stood there shocked, like someone who had just opened the door to see Publishers Clearing House. Yea, I would have paid to see it too. When I play it out in my head, there is also a shriek when he opens the door. Like a 13 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. And maybe he faints…. Speaking of fainting, why do fairy tales make fainting look so romantic? I’m sure that shit hurts. Gravity doesn’t fuck around. I digress.


As a social worker, I have to legally supervise adoptions and every time I am moved. This Grinch’s “small heart grew three sizes that day”. When love is shared, love grows. These two amazing people have more love in their pinky fingers than most people have in their whole body. During this holiday season, please look around at those you love. Your family. Your friends. Realize that each relationship is a blessing. I am writing this because I believe with every fiber of my being that these 2 amazing people deserve to have all the happiness in the world. They deserve a family. They deserve to love a child. They deserve to raise that child. They deserve sleepless nights, 3am feedings, and changing shitty diapers. They deserve to have that child hit puberty and hate them for no reason. They deserve to have that child come back to them at 20 and tell them “sorry” for being such a brat at 14. And they deserve to look at their beautiful family and know love.


Promote love people…. Promote love.


I am asking that all of you check out the following links. Pass the information on. Send them love. Or just say “Hi”. About 50% of the connection process with expectant mothers is through self-advertising. The more people that that know that they are adopting, the better chance of a connection.


If you know of, or meet an expectant mother who is looking to place a child in adoption, please pass along the toll free number (1-888-899-4338), email address (, or the adoption counselor’s phone number (1800-869-1005). Please instruct her to state that she is interested in connecting with Eric Evans and Adam White.

Adoption Profile:


Phone: 1-888-899-4338



And then Abby gave birth to an alien….

If you know me at all, you know I hate babies.  #babiesareassholes is probably my favorite hashtag.  And by “hate”, I mean, I usually hate the screaming, smelly, poor parented toddler who you would rather beat with a stick rather than cuddle.  I never understood the fascination with babies.  I love when my friends have kids, well, because THEY are happy.  And I am happy for them.  But as for the “awwww, I just want to smooch it”…. nope not me.  I have always thought babies looked like small, emotionless aliens.  They smell, can’t make facial expressions, and their heads resemble Dan Aykroyd in Coneheads.  I am in constant fear when holding one that I will drop it and somehow it will land perfectly on that soft spot and it will explode like a grapefruit.  Yet, unlike a grapefruit, I can’t offer to buy the owner a new one at Whole Foods tomorrow morning.  Or I could, but we probably wouldn’t be friends anymore.


So today while talking to my friend Abby about the joys of menstruation and birth control,  babies were apparently the next topic on the discussion list.


Me: My baby space is FUCKING killing me.  God damnit!  Eve was a bitch.  She ate that apple and I have to pay?  What the shit?!?


Abby: Get on Depo, you won’t get cramps.


Me: Depo makes you gain weight, right?  That’s the last thing the world needs.  I’m already pissed off that I have to deal with this every month.  Let’s just add 10 pounds to the equation and people can make bets on how quickly I kill someone for a piece of chocolate.


Abby: Some people gain weight, I lost weight…. years ago.   BUT…. No periods!


Me: Yea that would freak me out.  I like the period…ya know…to know..for sure.  It’s like a miserable safety blanket.  A crampy, nasty, miserable safety blanket.


Abby:  **laughs**  I guess.  I don’t feel anything kicking, so I’m good….right?


Me:  If YOU have a baby, it will probably lay silently, plotting the world’s demise…  Wringing it’s tiny, creepy hands together like Mr. Burns.


Abby: Very true.


Me: Then, without notice, it would spring out from inside you.  Like that creepy thing from the movie “Aliens”…. Give us the finger… And hopefully kill Justin Bieber on daytime television.