Trouble brewing

Remember that story that I didn’t have a title for? Well I still haven’t come up with a title for it, but I have been sketching out the story itself. What do you make of this revised draft bit?

Her eyes detected and then locked onto Mitch and Dustin as they entered the park. When they caught sight of herself and Crystal, smirks spread out on their faces. Oh for crying out loud what the hell are they up to? “Ever feel like you’re different from other people?” Roxy’s eyes drew back over to Crystal. “Um, what?” Crystal looked up at Roxy for an instant, and in that moment her the coloring in her cheeks had heightened to a bright red, and her eyes conveyed a look of utter nervousness. They looked up then down, and back up again. They reminded her of two basketballs being dribbled. “Nothing,” Crystal’s voice choked on the word, as if something had been lodged in her throat. “Just forget that I mentioned anything.” Roxy didn’t take the bait. For now, whatever was bothering Crystal could wait. She looked back over at the park’s main entrance, and as she did so she caught a glimpse of Alexandra, who was making her forth lap around. By the time her eyes came to rest on the entrance there was nothing to see, Mitch and Dustin has disappeared. Perhaps they really weren’t up to anything. You moron! Her mind seemed to scream back. They smirked at you, didn’t they? Okay, so maybe they were up to something, but whatever that is, can’t be found out because they’ve disappeared. I’m certainly not stupid enough to attempt to find out what that is; Although Roxy suddenly felt a strong desire to walk around the park’s vicinity, but she fought the urge. Now I’m just being paranoid. “Sorry what were you trying to tell me Crystal?” Crystal sighed sounding irritable. “I was asking you whether or not you sometimes feel –” Something was being sprinkled onto them like rain droplets. “What the?” But then Roxy understood, these weren’t droplets of rain, they were droplets of gravel and –

Roxy leaped from the swing set, landing safely in the grass, she took off in a sprint for the alleyway. “Run!” She shouted to Crystal. She was halfway down the alley when she heard a blood curdling scream. She stopped, looked behind her, she saw nothing, heard nothing else. She took off in sprint once more. When she reached the other end of the fence alleyway, a blue pickup passed her on the street, and she felt safe, she felt triumphant. No way were Mitch and Dustin going to mess with her today. Another scream reached her ears, but this scream had been a command. “Stop!” The familiar voice ordered. “She’s hurt.” Roxy changed her course and made her way back down the alleyway. She sprinted out into the park, stopped, and looked over at the swing set.

Crystal lie on the ground with Alexandra crouched over her. “What happened?” Roxy asked, as she began to look Crystal over. Then she saw the blood.

Blood gushed for a wound just above Crystal’s right eyebrow. Seeing this sight, Roxy removed her long sleeve, her forearms now exposed to the chilly autumn air broke out in gooseflesh. Her body screamed for the warmth of the long sleeve, but Roxy ignored and pressed forward. She ripped off one of the sleeves and folded it until it resembled that of a thick piece of cloth. She pressed it to Crystal’s gushing wound and Crystal winced with pain. “I’m sorry.” Roxy looked at Crystal’s pupils and – Were they getting larger, or am I just imagining that they were? “Crystal how does your head feel?” At this Crystal looked at her, as if she’d been a little on the slow side. “Sore,” she answered in slow, clear, clarity. Roxy looked at her eyes again, examining her pupils more thoroughly than before. This time there was no mistaking it they were larger. “Crystal.” She noticed Crystal’s eyelids drooping in an exhausted manner. Roxy slapped her cheek. “Ouch, bitch, what’d you do that for?” “You need to stay awake, because it looks like you might be getting a concussion.” “Okay.” Her eyelids began to droop again, and this time Roxy and Alexandra pulled her to her feet. “Come on Crystal, we need to find somebody, who can take you to the hospital.” “Is anybody home at your house?” Alexandra asked. Crystal, winced in pain as they began to walk, Both Roxy and Alexandra tightened their grip on her. “I think my sister should be.” They walked her as quickly as she would allow down the alleyway, and by the time they crossed the street only a little over a minute had passed, but to Roxy the entirety of their journey to Crystal’s seemed like it had taken them ten minutes. As they were walking down the alleyway what ran through her mind was… Oh man, oh lord, Crystal please don’t pass out, please! When they walked onto the lawn of Crystal’s house her older sister had just opened the front door twirling a set of car keys in her hand, singing the lyrics. “Tell me what’s wrong with society, when everywhere I look I see. Rich guys driving big SUV’s, while kids are starving in the-” She cut the  lyrics off when she’d caught sight of Crystal. She went sprawling down the front steps, catching her footing on the last one, she walked over to them without incident. Thank God, another head injury we don’t need. “Crystal needs to go to the hospital, aside for the head wound, Roxy carefully removed the long sleeve cloth. Crystal’s sister let loose a horrified gasp. “I think she might also be getting a concussion,” Roxy said, as she carefully placed the cloth back over the wound. Her sister looked at her eyes and inched closer to her face, examining. Looks like I’m not the only one who was unsure of the assumption. “Shit!” her sister exclaimed. “Get her into my car.” A moment later Roxy and Alexandra watched as Crystal’s sister sped off down the street. When they were out of sight Roxy looked down at her hand, in was covered in red and a coppery brown at the edges, where the blood had started to dry. Poor Crystal, God I hope she’ll be all right.     

2016 Election

I’ve never heard of or seen a Presidential Election as insane as this one has been. I never once in the beginning thought that Trump would get as far as he has, and shame on us for letting such a horrible man actually run. Not mention the fact that the man is severely unqualified for the position.

I think the words that I am most tired of hearing in this Election are… “I’m voting for Trump because he is not like all of those crooked politicians.” Those people are correct, he isn’t a politician; but he is indeed crooked. Just look at his tax records- oh that’s right we can’t; because he hasn’t filed in almost two decades. Riddle me this folks. How is this man still walking around freely? If an average lady such as myself hadn’t paid my taxes in two decades, I’d still be serving time. But because it’s rich, white, hetero,  Donald Trump he can do whatever he pleases. The way he gets by with disrespecting women also proves that. “Just locker room talk?” According to your audio footage, women should be considered your own personal sex slaves. That’s disgusting! And you want to know the scariest thing folks? In less than a month we’ll find out if we’re going to have a President Trump. If this racist, sexist, homophobic, lying, crookedly evil, man becomes President, myself along with half of my family would have to flee the US.

I’m gay, my sister’s boyfriend is of a different race, and my mother has retired on Social Security. Everything that I just listed would be hated by Trump and I can’t even imagine what the US will turn into if he wins on November 8th.

Now to turn to the Democratic side of this post, Clinton. Yes everybody hates the woman for her email, and for her first court case where she defended a pedophile (who got off way too easily.) People out there don’t trust her because of these things, some think that she should be imprisoned for the emails alone. I am not disagreeing here because what she’s done is terrible. But I will say one thing in her favor, she does have the qualifications. She was Obama’s Secretary of State, she was a former US Senator, the point here is that she knows the game, and understands how this country needs to run. As much as I despise her for the things she’s done, I cannot deny the fact that she is qualified. Perhaps if this Election had gone more of the way towards Bernie I wouldn’t be attempting to weigh the scale, but that fact remains it’s either going to be Trump or Clinton come November 8th.

Here’s a few things that I wouldn’t want to see vanish.

Marriage Equality

Obama Care

Social Security

Increase in Employment

Lower Taxes

If Trump were to get in Obama Care, Social Security, Marriage Equality and the increase in Jobs that we’ve been seeing; would be obsolete. Then we would see him increase taxes, (at least for the working class.) I don’t want to see the rich get richer, it didn’t work with Bush and it most definitely will not work with Trump.

I’m voting in this Election because I don’t want to see all of the progress Obama’s made go to waste.

The world of Jenny Mac

It’s been a while since I’ve done any sort of Jenny Mac post. The main reason for that is because I think that the story has so much potential, and that I might accidentally give too much away.

However, I want to keep everyone in the loop or rather keep you wanting/needing to know more. So as carefully as I can manage, I’m going to introduce you to her world.


One of my biggest influences for this story has been the 2016 Presidential Election, amongst others would be, WW2, The Civil Rights movement, as well as the assassination of JFK. It’s these combining factors of these events that I began to dive head first, into Jenny’s world.  With this in mind, I’d like to throw a few questions at you…

What if world peace were possible?

Could it remain at peace, or would evil forces destroy it?

How would humanity cope?

What would the world turn in to?

And… Could world peace be salvaged?

These questions are all still bouncing around in my head, along with a billion others, but the question that had been popping up the most was… What if world peace were possible? That was a question that took me a while to wrap my head around, because after all, how would something as wonderful as that come to be? Then like the most interesting ideas tend to do, it hit me (with the force of a freight train.) It would have to be an organization whose sole purpose is to better humanity. I don’t want to give you the name of the organization, but I’m sure that you could pinpoint the organization of which I am referring. It is from this organization that my own little organization is born, the WIA aka the World Investigation Agency. Their job is to help end fighting. This could stem from a dispute between a country’s government and their citizens, to arguments pertaining to or have the possibility to lead to  war. If my protagonist group can aid humanity in settling their difference, then in the book they may actually have a shot at world peace.

If world peace did prove to be a successful venture, then could it be taken away? In fiction there’s a rule, if something good comes up, then it must come down. If we didn’t have this rule, then there would no story. In any good or halfway decent story you want to see struggle, destruction, or the end to an era. If only to hope that the person, organization or what have you, can come back out on top. If world peace did occur, I could think of nothing better to destroy it than good old fashioned politics. My antagonist Joseph sees the world functioning in a different format, that could very well lead to the destruction of humanity.

What would the world/humanity transform into? I think if the antagonist were successful at carrying out his agenda, then the world might resemble a bit of the world we’re currently living in. Because if world peace were lost, then the trust and belief in humanity would be lost, so you’d wind up with loads of chaotic disasters, and people living in fear.

Could world peace be salvaged? This would depend upon whether the human race could pull themselves up and dust themselves off, and show that fighting spirit.

I know that there’s one other question that is undoubtedly floating around in your mind, and that would be, where would Jenny Mac mix in with all of this? Well that’s something that you would have to read to find out. Whenever I actually manage to finish the book and get it published that is.



I’m in a cold sweat.

Missing your love, girl, I use to have no regrets.

Now I fall asleep, all alone in this queen-sized bed.

Going to bed never use to be something that I would dread.

But now I’m shakin’ drippin’ wet, in a cold sweat.

Searching for a temporary hit, but your body’s far too beautiful, not to miss.

Gotta get a fix, kiss, forshiz the taste of your lips, has got me caught up in a reminisce.

Quick gotta locate the off switch.

Logic is trying to override the cardiovascular system, but that beating muscle in my chest, cannot deny what it wants. So it overthrows what my logic already knows.

Lord knows I’ve tried to quit it and forget ya, but this love’s far too good, far too fanatically, amazing, that you’ve got me hooked.

Please allow me, one more night, one more time, where I’m all yours and you’re all mine. Then I swear that I’ll be fine.

Lord I miss those curves girl.

Tracing em always use to feel, oh so good girl.

Curling up with you all night.

Feelin’ that sweet spot every night, we’d be all night.

Lickin’ till my tongue numb.

Loving till the sun up.

I erupt, when you erupt.

So in tune, so in sync, when we make love.

Never in my life have I had such an adrenaline rush.

Endorphins equal true love.

Okay I admit it I’m addicted, flyin’ high, floating on cloud 9.

Wishing that I could go back to the days when you were all mine.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this one last night. This one last time shit, just ain’t gonna do. Now I don’t know what I’mma do, I’m relapsing; and now I’ve got to face reality. Deal with the fact that I lost you.

I’m having a relapse with you.

Going down, just thinking about you.

Hands are shakin’ and I’m, drippin’ wet in a cold sweat.

I never use to live in regret.

Now I’m running on fumes, and dammit I just want a fix, I need my hit.

Tie a band round my arm, pick a vein, hook me up, give me something to remember your touch.

Oh lord girl, I miss your touch. I never thought a break up could be so rough.

Damn girl I want your love.

Ooh, Ooh, Ooh.

I’m in a…

Cold sweat, drippin’ wet.


I’m having a.


Working Class Stiff

26 and blessed beyond my wildest dreams.

For almost a year, I’ve been living a circumstance that seems unrealistically fictitious.

From the house to the pre-owned above ground pool, I feel like I am constantly waking to a daydream.

As if at any given moment I’ll find myself, along with my family shoved back into reality.

Living back on McKinley; draggin’ home a fully loaded grocery cart from Target, legitimately starving, just trying to make it.

I think that I can vibe with Rowling’s skepticisms, for this new life, this new reality, I just cannot bring myself to accept it.

How’d I get here?

I know the answer’s logically sound, that every T’s been crossed, and every I dotted.

Still I can’t seem to shake this dreamy sensation, and I’m not even on any sort of medication.

(Chorus working class stiff, working class fam.

Where we never do things according to plan.

My mama never did live the life of a soccer mom, sporting the classic minivan.

Instead she played both of the roles as my mom and dad.

I remember her continuously teaching me how to work hard.

Each of us scrubbing toilets, making 25 dollars in two hours.

Putting a week’s pay toward the necessities.

We might have been flat broke, and could barely breathe, but at least we earned our keep.)

You on the other hand, have grown up with certain expectations, use to a certain level of comfort.

Creatures of habit, but let’s face it you’ve never once had it like we’ve had it.

You never once had to push, flush, rush, be constantly continuous, cause you’re not us.

Living on the wrong side of the tracks, dealing with those fucked up wacks. Never quite on track, putting up an act, without a single brain cell left intact.

I always felt kinda bad, even though their addictions were bad they’re still apart of the human race, yet Richie Rich bastards like yourselves, wouldn’t even care to remember their face.

Your heart’s are cold and twisted like a maze.

Unfortunate as it is, this is something that we can’t escape,

I hate the fact that you think, this is a part of my blood that I must – should embrace.

Honestly I hate to be the one to break it to ya, but all of your attempts are a waste.

I’m not high class, I’m working class all the way.

(Chorus working class stiff, working class fam.

Where we never do things according to plan.

My mama never did live the life of a soccer mom, sporting the classic minivan.

Instead she played both of the roles as my mom and dad.

I remember her continuously teaching me how to work hard.

Each of us scrubbing toilets, making 25 dollars in two hours.

Putting a week’s pay toward the necessities.

We might have been flat broke, and could barely breathe, but at least we earned our keep.)

What’s a matter Brown clan, afraid your cash won’t win my allegiance?

That my love for my working class blood, out ranks the family name?

What, can’t think of anything witty or intellectual to retort?

I gotta tell ya right now, living your way, your lifestyle would be my last resort.

So go ahead, play it safe, play your game, and we’ll all go our separate ways.

I’ll take my place as the little baa, baa, black sheep, with the high class fam, and stick forever close to my working class fam.

Because at least with them I know where I stand, forever a working class woman.

Contractor Don’ts

To be perfectly clear this post has to do with a contractor who really sucks at his job. This post is not meant to be a guide on which contractors to avoid, though you might take a tip or two away in this post.

I hired this contractor in late June to re-build my second story deck, which runs across the length of the back of my house. The old deck had seen its best days perhaps forty years ago. At first the guy seemed great, he had given me a good price and began to re-build the structure immediately. That first week was paradise he had the old deck torn down within three days max, and began to build the frames for the new deck.

As I said that first week paradise, now it’s August 9th and I don’t even have the flooring fully in, so now that you’ve gotten an idea of what I’ve been dealing with I’ll continue.

For privacy sake I’ll be using a different name for my crazy, nut job contractor, we’ll call him… Loony Larry, or just Larry for short.

Hmm, let’s see what was the first indication that Larry was indeed loony, ah yes the garage door moment.

Friday, 10:30AM, July 29th, location: driveway/garage.

I came around to the back of the house to ask Larry a question about the deck, I expected to find him up on the deck. Instead I find him sitting again one of my garage doors, with his radio sitting beside him. The radio was cranking out country music, I’m pretty sure I heard Reba McEntire’s For my broken heart playing.

Larry sits against the garage door, his face, the definition of gloom. The lyrics, (I guess the world won’t stop, for my broken heart.) Play on, making the gloom on his face even more defined. I approach him cautiously, for fear that I might be seeing apart of him that he wouldn’t want one of his customers to see; or at least I certainly wouldn’t if I were in his shoes. He looks up and sees me, suddenly I feel awkward, as if I’ve intruded on a private moment. But then the business side of my brain pops into play with, he shouldn’t be having a private moment while on the job site. This propels me forward and I stand near him waiting.

Larry: (Turns down the music) Sorry Chelsea, I’m just feeling a bit blue at the moment.

Me: (Can’t help feeling sympathetic, though I don’t even know why he’s depressed.) I’m sorry to here that.

Larry: (Kicks at a piece of gravel.) I’ve been working so much, and I guess I’m just worn down.

Me: We all get worn down, but I wouldn’t get depressed about it.

Larry: It’s not so much that, it’s really the fact that I had to fire one of my guys last week, for stealing tools.

Me: (I have heard this story a dozen times since the termination of the employee’s position. I know the details so well, that I could recite them. So I do; out of pure annoyance and frustration.) I know the guy worked with you for years, and you’ve known him since you did flooring installs for Bob’s furniture. But the guy can’t have been that great if he stole from you.

Larry: (sighs.) I know you’re right, but he was a good friend, and I miss him.

Me: (I feel the need to repeat the last bits of what I just said to him, but decide not to because he’ll yammer on and on about the guy, and all I want Larry to do is get to work on the deck.) Say you know what would help take those blues away? (He looks at me perplexedly, then shakes his head.) Good old fashioned hard work, so roll up those sleeves, and I bet you’ll be feeling better before you know it.

Larry: You know something Chelsea, I haven’t had to use. (He raises his fists.) Old Betsy, and Bertha, since I was in high school. We’re talking fifteen years.

Me: (Tried as I might to avoid this, he’s started to yammer, great.) I’m sure that fight is a hard thing to come to terms with. But I’m telling you the kind of work that you do, building things, that probably just makes you feel so good, and releases your tensions. Perhaps I’ll join you up there, that is if I weren’t afraid of heights.

Larry: Chels you’re gay right?

Me: (wondering what in the hell my sexuality has to do with this conversation?) Yes, why?

Larry: (beginning to sob.) I- I- was just wondering if you could tell me why guys are so mean?

Me: (He’s joking right?) Well that’s hard to say considering I’m a lesbian and have never dated guys.

Larry: (Now sobbing into my shoulder.) It just sucks, why can’t you just be able to trust an employee anymore? Why would they just rob you blind, I mean he was paid a decent wage.

Me: (Creeped out and losing my patience.) Sometimes people just suck and you just need to get over it. (I pick up his hammer and hand it to him.) I’ve got to get going, so you should get back to work on the flooring install of the deck.

Larry: Yeah, I should. (He begins to sob again.)

Me: (For Christ sake.) What now?

Larry: Nothing, it just, this was Kevin’s hammer.

Me: Look there’s another hammer in the garage, I’ll be by later to see how things are progressing.

It’s ten days later and I’m still waiting for him to finish the flooring, but he has at least attached all of the railing and some of the stairs. Apparently I attract the same type of contractors as the type women that I date, both are crazy, and are full of excuses, and are extremely lazy.




I’ve had this post/vent on my mind on and off for a few months now. What finally lead me to blog about it is my current excursion into this dating app that I’m trying out.

One of the questionnaires that you have the option to answer is regarding your sexuality. For instance, are you a? Lesbian, bisexual, pan sexual, Gender fluid, demisexual, transgender, etc. This got me thinking, why in the hell are we using so many different labels? For instance the use of pan sexuality, why not just say that your bi, because your are basically attracted to both genders. Or better yet why don’t we just stop using all of these labels? If you’re a man who happens to be attracted to men; why couldn’t you say I prefer the company of men, and just drop the “I’m gay.”

Perhaps it’s because as human beings we cannot resist the urge of defining who we are. Or is it perhaps society? To make this world function properly we must have a name, a word, or a label for every single thing. Or perhaps it’s the fact that Obama’s term is coming to a close and we may very well be subjected to the horror of having a President Trump; who plans on overruling the supreme court’s marriage equality decision. Whatever the reason behind the labeling, I wish that we didn’t have the need for them, because we all are human and I’d like to think that we’ve progressed, minus the fact that we have a life size troll doll running for office.