I fled to Ohio right before my 21st birthday. It was the best kind of escape I could manage after years of trying, finally leaving my parents’ hovel to live with my boyfriend Jay, who had just graduated college with a degree in classics. I was teetering on the verge of something close to insanity, having lived through very strange experiences with my family, working two jobs to make no money and have no time, drinking quite heavily and doing stupid things to myself. Surviving on Corn Nuts and Faygo red pop, having acid flashback/panic attacks. Never sleeping, eating the donuts from one job, then rushing into my green waitress dress and running a mile and a half to work, where I was lucky to manage a free salad for myself. I would try to push my silly breasts up into a pleasing shape and smile and serve. (more…)

Death and the future have been much on my mind lately.

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My uncle died last year, after a very long battle with diabetes and kidney problems. Part of me wants to say it’s his own fault. He spent something like a decade after he was diagnosed completely refusing to stick to a sensible diet. He ate all the candy he wanted. He’d come over to my grandmother’s house, and she’d bake him a pie, and he’d eat it. My grandmother knew he wasn’t supposed to eat it, but she’d make it anyway—for decades, she’s defined her self-worth by how many people ate her cooking, and she knew he loved to eat pie. So she’d bake pies, and he’d eat them. On the other hand, I don’t think it’s his fault so much. It’s a fucking pancreas. It doesn’t have to pump blood, it doesn’t have to think deep thoughts, it doesn’t have to take in oxygen, it doesn’t have to digest food. All it has to do is produce insulin, and it falls down on the job? That’s a shitty pancreas, and my uncle should’ve demanded a new one. And any god worth his essential salts woulda snapped to it, given him a new pancreas, and a coupon for a free steak dinner to make up for the trouble. But it doesn’t matter whose fault it is. My uncle died short a leg and a few fingers. He fell asleep one day and woke up dead a month later. My grandmother knew it was coming, but knowing it’s coming doesn’t really prepare you. The word came, and she cried like a lost, wounded puppy. She’d outlived her only son. The moment her tears came, my father and brother actually fled the room. They were afraid of an old woman’s tears, and I still haven’t forgiven them for that. (more…)

When I burned out of college in spring of 2006, I found myself needing cash in the worst kind of way. I was flipping through the newspaper when I found an ad that read:

“Sweeper Vac Driver needed. 3rd shift only”

And gave subsequent contact info. I’m really great doing over night work and decided that I’d give it a shot. I arrive at the office, fill out an application, and before I walked out of the door I was given the job and told to report for training the following evening.

So, I reported to the office the following evening… and had the weirdest/craziest/funniest 8 months of my life. I was hoping to share a story or two with you guys. If you like ‘em, I’ve got TONS.

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Credit: Bruiser @ The Something Awful Forums

Honduras. Years ago. Years.

Resort. Beautiful. Bar. On the Beach.
Young blond guy. Turns out he was 18. Even as young as I was back then, I still had 10 years on him. God he was Gorgeous. He actually took my breath away when I first looked at him.
Sunset. Tropical drinks with 6 kinds of rum. Edible flowers.

I walked right up to him. Smiling. Staring. “What’s your name?”

“Kelly,” he said. Shook my hand.

Eye contact. Deadly. I grinned. “Kelly, I am going to seduce you.” Before the week is over. Before I go home. I am going to have you. (more…)

Growing up, we vacationed on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. One of our visits happened to be the summer after my sophomore year in high school, shortly after I became No Longer Ugly, shortly after I realized there just might be hope for my ridiculous redheaded appearance. My braces were gone, my teeth were slick, my curves were coming out of the woodworks, and I did three hours of ballet, five days a week. I had also become quite boy crazy by then, and was well aware that Hilton Head was swarming with them.

So when we arrived in Hilton Head that summer, I was feeling good. It was 1985, and I had used up all my pre-paid tanning sessions back home at The Golden You to ensure that my fair skin was no longer fair. I also had spent a week dousing my hair with Sun-In to ensure that my auburn shade was no longer auburn. I was a tan, toned, strawberry-blonde, sixteen-year-old hottie, pure and simple. The rest of the world just didn’t know it yet. (read more @ Confessions of a Pioneer Woman)