maroonballoon:

Gun-toting granny Ava Estelle, 81, was so ticked-off when two thugs raped her 18-year-old granddaughter that she tracked the unsuspecting ex-cons down… And shot off their testicles.

“The old lady spent a week hunting those men down and, when she found them, she took revenge on them in her own special way,” said police investigator Evan Delp.

Then she took a taxi to the nearest police station, laid the gun on the sergeant’s desk and told him as calm as could be: “Those bastards will never rape anybody again, by God.”

Cops say convicted rapist and robber Davis Furth, 33, lost both his penis and his testicles when outraged Ava opened fire with a 9-mm pistol in the hotel room where he and former prison cell mate Stanley Thomas, 29, were holed up.

The wrinkled avenger also blew Thomas’ testicles to kingdom come, but doctors managed to save his mangled penis, police said. “The one guy, Thomas, didn’t lose his manhood, but the doctor I talked to said he won’t be using it the way he used to,” Detective Delp told reporters. “Both men are still in pretty bad shape, but I think they’re just happy to be alive after what they’ve been through.”

The Rambo Granny swung into action August 21 after her granddaughter Debbie was carjacked and raped in broad daylight by two knife-wielding creeps in a section of town bordering on skid row. “When I saw the look on my Debbie’s face that night in the hospital, I decided I was going to go out and get those bastards myself ‘cause I figured the Law would go easy on them,”’ recalled the retired library worker. ” And I wasn’t scared of them, either - because I’ve got me a gun and I’ve been shooting’ all my life. And I wasn’t dumb enough to turn it in when the law changed about owning one.”

So, using a police artist’s sketch of the suspects and Debbie’s description of the sickos, tough-as-nails Ava spent seven days prowling the wino-infested neighbourhood where the crime took place till she spotted the ill-fated rapists entering their flophouse hotel.

“I knew it was them the minute I saw ‘em, but I shot a picture of ‘em anyway and took it back to Debbie and she said sure as hell, it was them,” the oldster recalled…

“So I went back to that hotel and found their room and knocked on the door, and the minute the big one opened the door, I shot ‘em right square between the legs, right where it would really hurt ‘em most, you know. Then I went in and shot the other one as he backed up pleading to me to spare him. Then I went down to the police station and turned myself in.”

Now, baffled lawmen are trying to figure out exactly how to deal with the vigilante granny.. “What she did was wrong, and she broke the law, but it is difficult to throw an 81-year-old woman in prison,” Det. Delp said, “especially when 3 million people in the city want to nominate her for Mayor.”

what an absolute legend omg i love her so much

I think if you viewed what was going on inside my mind, you’d probably stumble away confused. I am pacing, I am in a corner rocking, I am screaming and throwing objects at walls. I am laughing. I am blissfully blindfolded, asleep and seeing nothing. I am fearful and I am digging for that part of me that’s unafraid. I am pushing to open the door and walk out, but until then I sit in the chair and I rock…

It’s not always like this. But it’s like this more often than I stand right now. I am afraid of all the hard work. I’m afraid of the failures. I’m afraid that my boyfriend will leave me, either because I’m inadequate or because he will find he is unable to cope with my son. I tell him this and he does what he can to comfort me, but there’s little he can do to get inside my head. The worst part is when we go to make love and, unbidden, images pop into my head. It took forever for me to forget that I didn’t have to call Chris “master”, and I thought I was cured of all that. But I guess since I got raped, it’s coming back again. I keep thinking that I let it happen… I can defend it all I want, saying that I was in shock and I was scared, but I still feel like it was fault because I didn’t come to my senses. 

I hate going to work, but oddly enough, it’s one of the few places that requires enough of my focus that I don’t have to think. Yet even then, there’s times when I have to hold it together in front of the customers. And it must be odd for them. They’re just there for the food and their server is obviously upset. There are times when I have to run to the restroom so I can collect myself and somehow make it through the rest of the shift.

Thankfully, my boyfriend just called… which helped, and made me feel lonelier at the same time. Ugh. See what I mean? 

I don’t think I can capture the complexity of what I’ve been experiencing the last few weeks. I don’t even fully understand it, and there are moments where little makes sense to me except the barest of realities (letting go of an object means it will fall to the ground, etc).

I had a horribly embarrassing moment at my boyfriend’s Monday night. He did something that upset me, though I don’t remember what, so I started to withdraw into myself. This isn’t unusual, it’s pretty much how I cope. When I withdraw, it pisses him off. When people around me are pissy, I just want to withdraw even further, and as we were lying in bed, I rolled over to face the wall. He started to say something in a very irritated tone of voice and got out of the bed.

I panicked because suddenly I felt like I was in bed with Chad and we were having one of our fights. Instantaneously, I lost it. I needed the world to disappear, to cease to exist. So I did the only thing I could. I curled up into a ball, shut my eyes tight, pressed my hands against my eyes, and started whimpering. To his credit, he immediately came to me and covered me with his body, arms wrapped around me.

But I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t… I started hyperventilating and didn’t want to respond to his worried voice. I couldn’t deal, didn’t want to deal. When I finally managed to stop the whimpers and the crying, he kept asking me what was wrong. I delayed and delayed and delayed because while I felt like I owed him an explanation, I couldn’t exactly figure out how to voice it.

My moods are all over the place, and I don’t know why. He wants an explanation, and I can’t give it to him. I tell him this, and he keeps pressing. Some days, he leaves it be, but I can tell it bothers him. I can barely handle my melt downs these days, let alone someone’s reactions to my melt downs. 

I want to be a mother, especially a stay-at-home mother, at least until my son is in school. But I also want to be the provider. I hate the idea of being a kept woman, and I’m used to paying all my bills solo. If Chris and I are still together come August, the plan is to move in together. I have no idea if this will work out because, upon co-cohabitation, I expect Chris to be a co-parent. He’s got to be willing to to at least a third of the work when it comes to helping me raise Abney. He will also have to help me clean up the messes, especially if I’m doing most of the cooking. A big part of me is suspicious that he won’t do that… And if he doesn’t, our relationship will pretty much devolve.

I stress a lot. I worry a lot. But he always looks at me like I’m silly for worrying. But how can I not? What I do directly and indirectly affects my son. I need to provide a steady household, but also enough of my attention that he feels nurtured. At the same time, I need to give myself enough “me” time so I don’t resent my son. I still need to give myself room to grow. And then there’s the money that never seems to be enough, that I’m constantly lacking. Maybe I need to show him everything I have to pay, and that will finally make him understand why I stress about this stuff. I’m not a perfectionist by any means, but I want to be the best I possibly can.

I also feel like, when he and I talk, I repeat myself a lot. I’m not sure we’re getting anywhere. And he says a lot of things like “if you keep doing this, I’m going to break up with you.” Um.. wow, and.. ouch… and… no pressure? A committed relationship is understanding your partner’s flaws and working around them if possible. If you can’t do that, then you just don’t mesh well enough to continue a life-long relationship. It’s not necessarily either person’s fault, just, sometimes people don’t work together as well as they need to.

What I need in a partner right now is someone who will help me any time I need it. I need someone who can challenge me. I need someone who can help me while I’m building confidence, but who will give me a reality check when it’s necessary. I need someone who can make me laugh, but who can help me stress over the bare necessities in a healthy way. I’m in such a fragile mental state right now that I can’t deal with being belittled, even if it’s a joke. 

So my boss called me this morning asking if I could come in a talk to her. Usually, talks with her mean one of two things: A)I’m in big ass trouble, or B)I’m in for a promotion. She didn’t start in on me while we were on the phone, and in fact, sounded genuinely positive (which is something of a rarity). I am therefore assuming it was not option A because if I do something wrong she never waits to let me know just how badly I failed as a manager and a human being. 

So I have a meeting with her tomorrow morning-ish before I have to work. While I’ve been waxing poetic about taking another job, I’m not opposed to an official promotion because I’ve been unofficially doing all the work for the next highest position. It might also mean I could get the hours I need (as in, the time slot I need) so I can do day care without a problem.

Wish me good luck! 

I slept for nigh on 10 hours last night, almost straight through. As a result I had a collage of dreams, many parts of which I do not remember. The part I do remember, most vividly, is as follows:

I was in a room, a kitchen, maybe? It was completely dark. Pitch. I fumbled my way to a door, only to find that Chad (my ex) stumbled in, searching for me. He grabbed at me, tried to kiss me, hold me close, all the intimate stuff. I pushed him away, and, unlike all the real life experiences I’ve had with him, he let himself be pushed away. I figured out that he was naked, and got him into pants in the dark somehow. 

Once he was partially clothed, he let me take him outside into a beautiful summer night. The stars were vibrant, the breeze was cool, and life was thriving. I led him to a bridge, the path beyond leading into an ancient but welcoming forest. Without a word he wandered across the bridge and out of my life. It was odd to see him go. The storm that was all my feelings about him and our relationship, it quieted and petered out. I don’t love him anymore, though a small part of me still cares about his well being. But he’s gone, not my problem anymore. Interestingly enough, this dream comes out just before he is about to literally walk out of my life for an indeterminate period of time. Maybe for forever.

This is interesting to me because I had a short conversation with my sister about what women want sexually, compared to what girls want. Girls want a boy who is sweet and honest, who won’t force you to have sex. Women want men who will do sexual things to you, but later reveal that he has a sweet side. They want to be dominated sexually, but (to copy and paste from my sister):

“but not in a scary way! that’s the equally-important second component to the sort of man the article is describing. he will do so only and precisely to the extent you want him to, not more (that’s what’s behind the whole ‘good with animals and children’ thing—he’s sensitive to the needs of others, and cares about them)  “

This is true, very true, because I’ve been on the end of sexual dominance taken too far. Hell, I’ve been choked during sex, collared, begged (at the command of my “master”) to be treated as lower than dirt. I have been tied up and beaten. I had sex with someone else at the request of my supposed partner, and god knows what else would have happened if I hadn’t stopped acquiescing.

My present boyfriend, for all his faults, does not even get close to taking it that far. I like it when he takes charge, but I like it that he lets me take charge too. Most of the time, it’s give and take. It’s fun. It’s not one person demeaning the other. It’s two people enjoying each other in a way that they don’t enjoy anyone else. It’s that kind of interaction I crave so much. I want to be validated, not subjugated. 

Looking back, I can’t even comprehend why I let those things happened or why I went along with it. Friends have come out of the wood work and said “Y’know, now that this is over, I just want to say I really didn’t like that he talked down to you so much.” Or, the best one, is being told by one of his long-term friends that they assumed I had the mentality of an abuse victim. And yeah… he was right. Is right.

Then again, I’m pretty sure my friends and family tried to tell me a long time ago that they thought he was a crap boyfriend. But I defended him. I got offended for him. I nigh on abandoned everyone I love for him.

So now, coming out of the other side, I’m still fumbling around in the dark. Only now, I can see in the moonlight.

I spend a lot of my time dreading what must be done. I’m pretty sure it’s unhealthy. After I’ve finally completed the necessary task, it amazes me how not-painful the process was. So I’m trying for less delaying, and more doing. 

I also spend a lot of time thinking about what I can’t do. I believe I’ve mentioned before that I have son and his father and I have shared custody. Well, his father is leaving town for an indeterminate period of time, and honestly I’m not sure he’s coming back. This means that I obviously have custody of my son all the time now.

No big whoop, right? I should be ecstatic and completely happy to have him. Well, overall I’m relieved to have my son. I am his mother, and I want to be able to raise him. However, I did have Abney when I fairly young (though I still am very young). Also, I don’t really have much a support system to fall back on. None of my family lives in the area and I only ever hang out with my boyfriend and room mate, neither of whom help me care for my son on a regular basis. It’s a pretty constant struggle to balance working 40+ hours a week with caring for my son. Minimally, while my ex had his turn with our son, I could be “free” to carve out a smidge of time with my boyfriend and— even rarer- time for myself.

Recently, with the onset of the small “Molly-time” I had dissipating, I’ve been mourning what I can’t do anymore. For instance, I can’t spend the night at my boyfriend’s place except on very rare occasions. I also can’t do whatever I want whenever I want. And, once my room mate moves out, I won’t have anyone to watch Abney for me if I want to go get Chris and bring him back to my place to stay the night (he doesn’t have a driver’s license, and I live 20 minutes away).

This leads to all sorts of conflicting feelings. I love my son and I want to spend more time with him, but I do wish I had had him after I had a career and a husband I felt dedicated to. At the time that I was pregnant, I thought everything was going to be cheery and wonderful and perfect. Obviously, things went pretty sour. I feel wretched then, for looking at my son as something that restricts me rather than compliments or enhances my life. I don’t really feel like he’s preventing me from doing much. It’s just, there are a lot of people in my life that demand much of my attention (my dog, my boyfriend, my son, my boss) that I get so little time to just exist. 

So. I decided today that I’m not going to focus on what I can’t do. I’m going to focus on what I can accomplish. Since my ex is moving, he’s giving me Abney’s jogging stroller… So now I can exercise even with my son along. I can also start raising Abney without having to fight his father on decisions I make. If I want Abney to start potty training, which is something I should start implementing soon, I don’t have to rely on someone else (who will argue with me for the sake of arguing) to help me when there’s so little communication and trust involved.

There are going to be a lot of challenges in the way, but they’re not of Mission: Impossible caliber. I accepted that I was going to his mother, and I WANT to be his mother… So, without losing myself, I’m going to embrace whatever comes my way, and make it work.

Posting this because I find it interesting that “female” is a specific qualifier when looking for scholarships. I get “single parent?” but… “female”? Please tell me I’m allowed to be amused and at least mildly offended by this.

Warning: The following post contains minor spoilers, though I left the details vague on purpose.

Recently Chris has gotten me addicted to the show “True Blood.” For those of you who don’t know, “True Blood” is set in the now, in the real world. Only, vampires have “come out of the coffin.” The series follows Sookie Stackhouse, a down-to-earth telepath who works and lives in the same small Louisiana town she was born and raised in. As the series progresses, Sookie begins to realize that her small-town world is full of much more strange things than even her freak-show telepathic self. This includes, though is not limited to: shape-shifters, vampires (both gentlemanly and beastly), a maenad, human monsters, werewolves, and witches. 

“True Blood” is based on a book series that I have never read, and as such I have no idea how closely it follows the books. The following paragraphs are thereby a critique of the television series and not the publications. I will say though, as detailed and as complex as the show is, I can only imagine how much richer the literature must be.

The series is full of characters that are horrendously flawed. Sookie, perhaps the most likeable of all, is prone to temper tantrums, blind optimism, and— despite almost dying numerous times in the show— seemingly full of delusions of immortality. Few of the characters, even the vampiric ones, escape making bad decisions repeatedly throughout the show. Sam, Sookie’s boss and the town’s token shape-shifter, sleeps with numerous employees even though he is constantly lusting after Sookie. Bill, Sookie’s vampire boyfriend, often tries to control Sookie (albeit, for her own good). The cops are constantly arresting the wrong guy when numerous shocking murders crop up in the town.

I’ll be honest. At first, I didn’t like the show. The only character I liked just so happened to be a self-made prostitute and drug dealer. Yet I found myself compelled to keep watching. I’m almost through the second season now and I finally find myself liking it. The characters frustrate me a little less. I accept their faults as part of who they are.

“True Blood” also refuses to censor quite a few horrific scenes. One person is dismembered in front of our eyes. Two characters are shown ravenously devouring a dish that, unbeknownst the them, contains the heart of a late co-worker. You could probably make a drinking game to go along with the show. Every time a character (human OR vampire) gets blood on their face, take a shot!

All in all, I’ve come to like “True Blood” so much because, buried in all the drama and edge-of-your-seat moments, is an intense exploration of what it means to be human. There is no doubt that some of the vampire characters are without guilt or shame for the awful things they do to humans. Many shown even enjoy the fear and pain they inflict on their “lesser” counterparts. Yet, many humans are in this show have a similar disposition. They care not for the vampires they torture, or the “fang-bangers” they kill (which is slang for those who sleep with vampires), or the sympathizers that end up as collateral damage when skirmishes between the two species break out. Conservative humans proclaim that vampirism and consumption of vampire blood is the root cause of crime and homosexuality. 

The show is so fantastic because it leaves the viewers questioning who the good guys are. We are introduced to vampires who want to main-stream, humans that want to ostracize, and many others who are simply caught in the middle of a ridiculous power struggle. We as viewers come to like the people we think we’re supposed to hate, and feel betrayed by the people we thought were surely the good guys. One character, notoriously dim-witted, is confronted when discussing whether or not vampires are people. He is asked, what kind of person would torture someone else and drain their blood. He points out that several women from his home town, including his girlfriend, were strangled to death by someone who was very much human, and thus, a person.

In a sense, vampires are a representation of the deeper, darker parts of ourselves— the parts that are capable of extreme disregard for human life. They are the monsters who have no problem torturing humans for fun. They are often amused when a human struggles or begs for its life, and easily disembowel humans that make them angry. Only afterwards do they casually wonder if they have blood in their hair. They sometimes lure their victims in with promises of consensual though possibly kinky sex, and happily get it on covered in their victims’ blood. Yet, vampires off-handedly note that they too, were human once.

The show disturbed me on a deep level because it confronts me with all the fears I have about the human race. How can we be capable of such monstrosities? Better yet, how can we pin point all the blame for evil on one group when we too commit acts of incredibly questionable nature? Are we all really this selfish? Are we all really able to be this heroic? How can we tell what is right and what is wrong? Is there really such a thing as “the lesser evil”? 

The dynamics in the world of “True Blood” are all too much a mirror of the world we live in today. And that, my friends, is what makes “True Blood” as brilliant as it is.

As a teenager, I had plenty of time on my own. Sure, I went to school, I definitely hung out with friends (one more so than others), and I had family obligations.. But I didn’t have a job, and so I spent a lot of time just hanging out by myself. And I was pretty content with that. Yes, there were splashes of loneliness, but for the most part, it suited me.

Fast forward through the years, and I rarely have much time to myself now. I run a fair amount of errands, attempt upkeep on my house (yard work and laundry), watch my son when I have him, or give my time to my friend/room mate as well as my boyfriend. So I’m always aching, yearning for a bit of time to myself. I’m a fairly private person, and sometimes I get moderately claustrophobic around others… So funny that it is 1 AM the night before I need to open the restaurant I work at, and I’m alone (mostly).. Yet I miss my boyfriend like crazy.

We plan to move in together this fall, which I am both frightened by the prospect and invigorated by it… I like the stage in relationships where you can mutually ignore each other, just have that presence, the comfort of knowing they’re there… While doing your own thing. He  bonded with my son a lot over our vacation together, and that was pretty much wonderful. :)

doctorwho:

You know The Doctor isn’t real, right?

#lol idk what this is