The Truth

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Where do I start?

From the top.

And 5, 6, 7, 8…

The beginning.

Doe, rae…MEEEE!!

Look at that! How do I always seem to bring it back to who’s important here? ME. As I’m singing “Let’s start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start…when we count we begin with one, two, three. When we sing we begin with DO RAE MEEEE!” Yes. Me. I love it. Maria Von Trapp got it all right. That Nazi bitch making those queer-matching-ass shorts outta curtains is good for something, people. She is starting my blog today.

My blog about me. 

imgresI haven’t been here in a while.

I’m sorry!

I know, I know…

But I’ve been busy.

Life has gotten in the way of well…

Life.

And I’ve been writing for some pretty kick-ass publications! I’m on BLUNTMoms, and SuburbanMisfitMoms. And in the Charlotte Observer! Jesus. I’m legit. Like who woulda thunk it? After three years of writing, I’d actually get paid for spewing my crap. Ha. Well, I only have you all to thank. So, well…thanks. Thank you, from the bottom of my Hurvitz heart. I have a big one, ya know. A super, big…gigantic HEART! Even though I swear like a truck driver, and talk about my vagina, I have a heart. And it really is filled with all kinds of love for you, my readers. And now, I’m here. Back to tell you some really big news!

I have grown up.

Yes, you heard me…I’m a big girl now. After forty-four years of living on this planet I have finally done something right! Besides using the correct fork with my salad…

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He’s such a dick.

He is the biggest asshole, ever!

He has nothing kind to say.

He can’t even return a phone call.

He doesn’t have a nice bone in his entire body.

But he’s hot as hell, he has more money than Trump….and he lives in the “cool” part of town so who cares! YES! He is a DOUCHE, but so what! It doesn’t matter, he will take care of you…pay for all your meals…and when your alimony runs out in 2022 you’ll be SET FOR LIFE! Perfect. Omg, really? Is this what we have turned into, bat-shit crazy bitches? Searching for men that treat us like garbage, have the hearts of the Grinch… and can’t even utter a nice word out of their slimy mouths. I am nauseous; actually sick to my stomach. And I’m a little embarrassed of my gender lately…

Girls, you need to grab your lady-parts and stop dating dicks. 

imagesI love you.

I miss you.

I want you.

I’m sorry.

I’m thinking about you…

I hear you, now show me.

Words. All just words. Words on a page, or in a text…or via email. Whatever, they are just words. Which is funny, coming from a writer. You would think words would be just fine in my book. You would think that when a person tells me how he or she is feeling, I would take it for face value, right? I mean, why wouldn’t I? After all, if you say it, you must actually in fact…mean it? But what happens when the words and the actions don’t match up? The words are saying, “You are important” but the actions are saying,”You mean nothing”. What is a girl to do?

Should actions always speak louder than words?