So Kesha

Can you imagine what your life would be like if you lived in a Kesha song?

Wake up feeling like ass with last night’s make up on and its the middle of the afternoon. Shower briefly. Throw on your day old half ripped tank, a pair of hot shorts and combat boots. Rock out with some what the fuck ever hair and some legit black eyeliner.

Blast some songs on volume 100. Dance like a fool. Grab drinks where you can get them. Guys want to be with you and you mind fuck them. Love them and leave them. Rage.

Fall in bed at the end of the night. Think momentarily about how out of control your life is. How you need to get your shit together. How you loved that one.

But who gives a fuck. You’re life is fucking awesome.

Think of the world and gre….zzzzzzzzz

Wake up and do it again.




I did the unthinkable today. I bought a pair of Vibrams.

Now before you judge you most know that these are the ugliest damn shoes I’ve even seen. I despise the way they look. But they are comfortable as hell. Light weight, thin but protective, and flexible. They are excellent for your body too.

I also purchased my favorite brand of shoes (see picture above). TOMS. I love their shoes and their moto. One for one. One pair of purchased TOMS also provides a pair for a child in need in a 3rd world country.

Shoes. Whoever knew they could be so grand.

Spring Break

It’s morning you realize. The light is creeping into reality under your hazy eye lids. You slowly crack open an eye. Oh the light, tis not pretty. You choke up a low grumble only the noise doesn’t come out right. It’s all muffled and scratchy. Your brain kick starts, back fires a few times, and then screams “WATER. WATER. WATER. WATER NOW.” Jolted by the thought you respond, moving rapidly. Mistake. “Ugh. God. Why?” You suddenly and shockingly realize you have a hang over.

It’s a surprise you knew about last night, but conveniently forgot and told yourself to act surprised about. It’s a great performance in your history of acting by the way. Along with your ability to forget about your surprise gift of massive dehydration, a pounding headache, the smell of food making you want to vomit, and light sensitivity, you begin to sift through the haze of last night.

First to prepare. “Time to roll over and sit…who the fuck is in bed with me? Ok. Slow roll. Slow roll. Oh it’s a boy. He’s warm and fast asleep. Creep just a wee. Oh it’s just ____________, wonder what we did last night. Hope my performance was nice.” You slip out of bed, man this hurts. Water. You need it. You meander to the kitchen with a lot of effort. Pouring a glass of water is quiet the challenge, but when that sweet nectar touches your mouth…yum.

Ok. Time to collect evidence so you can piece together the night. First evidence to examine, your body. Ummm. Make up half taken off, check. Clipped polish, triple check. Clothes, made it into pjs and it’s all on correctly. Wow impressive. So clothes, check but need to find clothes from last night. Bruises, lots of checks. Pretty successful night so far. No harm done.

Next evidence, the cell phone. Drunk dial, surprisingly no. Drunk text, oh my. Check times 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5 poor souls. Review the messages: 1, PG. 2, PG-13. 3, G. 4, R. 5, Oh no. Sexting. Pictures. Shit. Wait. Pictures. Oh no. Review of pictures, check. Wow. Overall review from the phone, good night, successful night, put down the phone next time.

But moving on to the camera. The pictures bring back some more memories. Jogging a few thoughts here and there. You remember a majority of your drunken records that are currently flashing back to you on the screen. Not bad at all. Better than expected.

Now for the final evidence check. How much did you drink last night? You slowly pull down the bag from the crown royal bottle. Half full. Hum. You can live with that. Overall, good night. A little much on the booze, and sexting. And oh the gentleman downstairs in your bed. Oh you need to go take care of that. Pronto. You sigh aloud in the silence of your kitchen. “Spring Break man. It wins every damn time.”

Vile Creatures

When I left high school and came to this place, I entered a home–no really–a stable home.

I was broken down and ground into the dirt. I grew with spring and was “parented” by a group of false adults. I fell, tripped, and stumbled my way along. I made mistakes, but regretted nothing. I found my own two feet at some point and set my roots in. I grew. Branched out. Touched a lot of things, people. Some made me angry and some made me dance the night away.

I grew and grew. Soon I grew too big for this place. Is it really my fault that I’m a single, attractive female?  I think not.

Soon my home became a disease, just like the last. What started as the truth developed into a gossip infested whore house. The respect and love I had for this place withered.

It was like a poison. I soon saw that its walls were bleached to cover the splatter of tainted words. I saw its people were not so prime and proper. Rather half demon–those who delight on the half devoured carcasses of their mates. The air, once so perfect, left a bitter taste in my mouth. The adults are really vile children at heart and much like the romans of their age delight in conflict of the human soul.

Little do they know that they surrendered their souls along time ago. They marked themselves by their vain existence. The very words they utter are the burden they will carry on their hearts one day.

Their hearts will fill with tar from all the regrets they have. The very gossip spilled from their mouths will one day be the very thing that makes them cry. Revenge is a dish beat served cold and I hope they enjoy the taste of victory now because karma tastes like shit.

That is their home in hell and they can keep it. I prefer to be homeless, carry my heart on my wings and fly free.

Sonia Leigh–Roanoke, VA

“Stopped in my tracks like a heart attack. Oh you, you really got to me. So short of breath. So real I can’t handle it. The way you affect me so easily. So I try with all my might to do what’s right. Let you pass by. Please just don’t call me tonight. I just might. I just might.”


Last night I went to see Sonia Leigh in Roanoke with iamsohip. I must say that I love this woman’s music. Every song that she sung really spoke to me. Each lyric reminded me of something important to me. One of the songs that she sung last night that really hit the nail on the head for the day I was having was “I Just Might” (see below). The opening verse of the song literally gave me chills. I was definitely thinking of Mr. Soup, which I must admit pissed me off just a little. Even iamsohip said that Sonia was “singing to me tonight”.

Damn. It’s true. I felt like she could see straight into my soul. That’s what makes Sonia such a great artist. She lets her music speak for itself, yet she connects with everyone in the place. That’s what makes me admire her the most. Her music is therapy to my soul.

Also, another sweet one about my home state. Something about this song just takes me back to summer time and being free as a bird.