Dear 2016

You sucked.

  1. My father in law died in January 
  2. My brother in law died in march
  3. In April my child swallowed a dime, it became lodged in her esophagus and it had to be removed by a surgeon. 
  4. Because of deaths and finances we didn’t get a vacation. Again. 
  5. My husband faced stress and frustration dealing with his father and brother’s deaths and the aftermath. 
  6. I agreed to a position at work that promised I’d return to my old job after it was over. I didn’t get to move back. 
  7. My child fell and had to be taken to the ER for a bleeding head wound (head wounds like to scare you, she’s fine). 

Please be sure to tell 2017 as he steps into your shoes, to try and go easy on us. 

TIA

-c

It didn’t work

My feeble attempt at getting likes for a page no one else cares about failed. 

The big secret? 

I was going to announce that I was planning another “Black Friday” story. Except this one was going to be based around Christmas. With zombies. 

Would have been a hoot. 

But who am I kidding. I don’t get time or have the energy to write.

So, never mind, I guess?

-c

News

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like it

ill never tell… if i dont get likes


Ha. Lol anywho… On another note…

I plan on removing Black Friday: A Zombie Story from all platforms in June 2017. My reasoning is “no ones gonna buy the cow if you can get the milk for free” is that how it goes. 

This was sort of a hasty decision. By then, it will be available for purchase on Amazon in paperback and kindle (and other possible sites) by then. 

So if you wanna read it but without having to spend money, do it NOW. 

On Crash Landing & On Wattpad

Thanks for reading. Or not, whatevs

-c

PS: Merry Christmas!

A ‘Running Start’ to 2017

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As 2016 is winding down, and there’s less opportunity for the world to ruin this year any further, we’ve all started thinking of what 2017 will bring. Hopefully something good. 

Anywho, I’ve already said I have a list of things I want to do, and I hope to achieve in the coming year. But there’s one thing I haven’t mentioned. 

My workplace has a Relay for Life team. We just started it back up last year, when a friend/co-worker (she transferred, the traitor) and I were discussing it, and later approached the store manager. Last year, with as little as we were able to do, we managed to raise about $500 for the American Cancer Society (the great people who started the relay). 

In 2017 I wanna double that. 

But we’ve done “jack sprat” since. 

I’ve had an idea running around in my head for a while. And if I were to do it, there’d be a two-fold purpose. Not only would I be raising money for Relay for Life and cancer research, but I’d get fit too! 

My idea: “run” X amount of minutes for “$X” amount of donations. For a max of 150 mintes a day (Department of Health and Human Services daily recommended physical activity for healthy adults). 

All on FACEBOOK LIVE video. 

Now, granted I am a 300+ pound woman, which technically would mean I am not a so-called “healthy adult”. But I would stop if I felt too uncomfortable or in danger, I would keep water on hand, and my husband would be home. So, he could turn the dang treadmill off if I pass out (haha, I’m hilarious). 

I really like the idea, I’ve always needed real motivation to exercise, and I could do good too! And so could donators. 

I just have to get donators. 

I want to start in January, so there’s some time to decide. 

What do you think? Am I crazy or stupid? Both? Crazy smart? Stupid? 

-c

Elf on the Shelf

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Greg stumbled groggily into his kitchen and hissed as the late afternoon sun pierced his squinted eyes.

He was hungover from a night of heavy drinking and coming on to women who immediately rejected him. He’d gotten in late and slept off the booze and the day. He opened the refrigerator to peruse it’s paltry offerings but the sight that greeted him scared the remaining alcohol out of his blood. Jumping back Greg bumped his throbbing noggin on the cabinets, choking back a scream and a groan. The fridge door closed itself and he stared nervously at it, fearing the worst.

Hoping what he saw was caused by leftover drunk he stood, rubbing the rising lump on the back of his head. He stepped forward and opened the door. It was still there.

In all its red and white glory, the elf on the shelf, stared vacantly with that mischievous grin plastered on its face. It sat motionless, it’s hands clutching a broken beer bottle. Inside was a rolled up sheet of paper.

Tentatively Greg pulled it away from the elf, careful not to disturb anything else. He unrolled the sheet, spilling red and green glitter on the kitchen tile, he read the candy cane letters.

“We’re watching you, Greg. Always watching.” It said. “Are you being a good boy?”

-c

First 100 Days of 2017

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Thanksgiving is over, so it’s officially time to start thinking about the new year. While some of us started wishing for a new year back when everyone’s favorite famous people starting kicking the proverbial bucket, and we all dreamed of a do-over of this election year, now is the time to worry about what we’re doing with 2017. 

The president-elect/businessman/umpa-lumpa/whatever is planning his first 100 days in office and half the country is still praying for that do-over of all that. I’m starting to think about my (probably won’t keep) resolutions. 

First off: doctor appointments. A few years ago, I had some trouble with Endometrial Hyperplasia with Atypia. Loads of megace, two D&Cs and one child later, I think it’d be a good idea to check that out. 

I also need to see my regular doctor. I want to get a real starting weight for a weight loss plan, and discuss other concerns. Notably frequent headaches and possible hereditary brain aneurisms. My mom has had three-currently living with her third – and I worry about my chances. 

Next is a long put off eye doctor appointment. I’ve had the same glasses for almost eight years, the coating on the frames is chipping, and though I see fine, eight years is a long time with the same frames! 

Also on the list: new work clothes. Retail doesn’t allow a lot of freedom with wardrobe, unlike what the NBC show “Superstore” would have you believe. While I’m a huge fan of that show, despite its flaws, I can’t dress like them. And the same work clothes for the past three years tend to become a bit threadbare. And being a rotund lady, things tend to, well, rub. And holes have developed in concerning places on a pair or two of pants. Not to mention the holes in my pockets. I’ve lost one too many pens, gosh darn it!

And since Christmas is still looming on the horizon, albeit not so far off, I still have a few gifts to buy, so money is a problem. Once Christmas is done for I will have less money tied up so I can afford co-pays and “sorry, we ordered this test before we knew your insurance wouldn’t cover it” or “here, just pay your deductible right now and we got this”. Wait, no, insurance company. Because if I had that kinda moolah just laying around, my work clothes wouldn’t have to be on layaway! 

Anyway, I’d also like to do more blogging in the new year. But it’ll probably end up being like it is now, blogging when I should be sleeping. While my Black Friday mayhem shift wasn’t so bad this year, I’m still tired! 

Good night, friends, and happy holidays! 

Do you have any resolutions yet?

c

Projects to Do

I almost spent money on materials for a mason jar/burlap/pointsetta Christmas centerpiece idea the other day. I’ve had the idea for a year. But with all the projects I’ve started and never finished over the years, I’m guessing it’s good I didn’t. Here are some. 

  1. My child’s blanket: started when I found out she was gonna be a girl. She’s almost 2. 
  2. Painting for friends’ housewarming gift: told them I wanted to paint it two years ago, took forever, painted the background, like, six months ago
  3. Picture wall: bought frames to start the picture wall(s) on each side of my fireplace. Bought them about four years ago. Frames are empty in the closet
  4. UK Blanket: got the idea three years ago, started crocheting last year. Stopped. Didn’t get far
  5. Cap’s Sheild blanket: LAST CHRISTMAS
  6. Crate lining: bought fabric (on clearance) abd upholstery  tacks forever ago. Never started. 

Fiction Me This 5: “The House Down the Street”┬á

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It was beautiful once, they say. The house down the street. Long before subdivisions and apartment complexes it stood, full of life and activity. A light was lit in every window, once. Now only darkness, as it has been for decades. 

Once the home of a wealthy land owner and his beautiful bride, the house seemed to shine with life. They held parties celebrated boisterously. 

But overnight it seemed the light began to die in the house. 

When sickness came, it took hold of both man and wife, but while its grip loosened from him, it held her tight like a vise, slowly squeezing the life from her form. And as he watched his love lay dying, the life faded from him, as well. 

When they buried her, he quickly turned recluse, hiding himself away in the darkening house. Within a year he’d sold off acres of land surrounding the house, save for the small piece it sat on. Houses began to pop up and fill the empty land. 

The town watched as the man and the house deteriorated. He came out onto the porch once in a while, stared off into the distance at the changing landscape. Sometimes he’d stand by his wife’s tombstone, just staring. 

For all his mourning, the man still lived many decades after his wife passed. His broken heart finally gave out on him, no one’s sure when. The grocery delivery man came one day, knocked on the door several minutes to no avail. That’s when he found the bold man, dead. 

They buried him next to his wife. Of course everyone knew that’s what he’d want. 

From that day and every day since, the house down the street remained empty. Now, decades later, the young ones think it haunted. Perhaps someone murdered a family and the angry ghosts still haunt the manor. Reckless teenagers dare each other to enter, to test their bravery, but none do. 

Sadly, though, it’s just a house, that house down the street. A lonely old house on a hill, built with love and great expectations for the future, only to be squandered by death and a broken heart. 

Fiction Me This 4: “In A Haze”

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submitted by Brittney


Dave thought the hazing ritual the fraternity had tasked him with was odd. But he knew they were the most prestigious fraternity at his university, and he wanted it to look good on his resume. 

So, trying not to question, he and three other pledges made their way to Chester’s Chicken Cave in the dead of night. Chester’s was a locally owned and operated chicken joint that seemed to be fairly popular. Personally Dave had never been there, but he’s heard good things. 

On the way there, his three accomplices were excited and on edge, shouting cheers, and chanting the name of the fraternity. Dave however, who was driving, kept his eyes on the road and his attention focused on the task at hand. His fellow pledges were starting to annoy him. 

Finally arriving at their destination, they circled the block, to ensure the restaurant was empty. On the second pass they turned into the parking lot and followed the arrows pointing to the drive through. 

At the end of the line, as if saying, “come back again soon,” was their target. 

The giant chicken had to be all of eight feet in height and the better part of five hundred pounds or more. Dave hoped his truck could handle it. 

He pulled into a spot and the crew hopped out in excitement. “Quiet!” Dave said in a loud whisper. “If someone hears or sees us they’ll call the cops!” And that would not look good in a resume. 

They group rushed over to the chicken and inspected it. It was bolted to a concrete pillar, which was probably several feet into the ground. “How are we supposed to get it?” One of them said. 

“Maybe we could pull it with the tru–”

“NO.” Dave interrupted firmly. He walked back to the truck, where he opened up the toolbox he had. He pulled out a socket wrench. He handed it to one of the others. I’m not doing it. 

“Dude, it’s not like you’ll get in LESS trouble because you weren’t the one who unbolted it!”

“Just do it!” Another guy said. Dave was pretty sure he’d been drinking. 

They got to work alternating loosening the bolts and keeping lookout. It took some time and a great deal of sweat, but they got the job done. 

“Dave, back the truck up, and we’ll get this cluckin’ thing and get outta here,” probably drunk guy said. 

Reluctantly he got back in, put the Chevy in reverse and backed slowly up too the giant chicken. Watching it grow nearer in his rear view just creeped him out. 

He got out and soon they all pitched in and got a handle on the giant chicken, and lifted. After a few tries, it finally budged off its concert pedestal, and they managed to get it out of the bushes. 

“Man, this thing is heavy!”

“Yeah it is. Why the heck did they want it anyway?”

“They don’t! They just want to haze us!”

“I don’t care, I just want to get it over with!” Dave said, “let’s get it in the truck and get out of here! I’ve got a test in the morning!”

They all groaned, then grunted as they lifted the giant chicken once more and, with great effort, put it in the back of the truck. 

The drive back to the house was slow, uneventful and yet unbelievably nerve wrecking for Dave. But they returned safely without getting arrested–much to Dave’s surprise. 

They pulled the truck behind the frat house, and climbed out. “What now?” Probably-drunk-guy asked. 

“Now?” Dave asked. “Now I’m going to bed. I told you. I have a test.” Dave went to bed, taking his keys with him. 

The next morning, after dreaming of a walking talking 8 foot fried chicken, he got himself ready and went to class. 

Almost to the minute he got there he started hear the “rumors”. One of his classmates tapped on his shoulder as he sat down. “Dude. Did ya hear?” 

“Uh, hear what?”

“Somebody stole Chester’s Chicken, and put it on the Dean’s lawn, again!”

“What? Wait, again?”

“Yeah, man! Every year, Someone steals Chester’s Chicken, dresses it up in school colors and plops it on the deans lawn!”

“They don’t know who does it?! Do they?”

“Nope! Whoever does, wipes of prints, leaves it all day, and takes it back the next night, unharmed! Chester, the guy not the chicken, thinks it’s hilarious!” 

When Dave returned to the house, he was notified he was in the fraternity. “Good! Because I’m not sure if want to steal another giant restaurant mascot.”

“Nah, man.” The frat president said. “Chester is an alumni! He and the dean never got along! Stealing the chicken is tradition!” 

Dave, exasperated, sighed. “Any other weird traditions I should know about?”