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The Last Straw

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Unfortunately my settings on one of these stupid dating sites has it chiming on my phone every time an email comes in, which is a lot. I finally sat down yesterday to change the settings in hopes of putting an end to the infernal distraction.

Success… oh and 22 new emails. I open the first one…

D- Hi.

That’s all. I see so many of these I just have to wonder what the hell these guys are thinking. You’re establishing contact with someone for the first time, hoping to spurn a response.

And all you’ve fucking got is Hi? Hello? Sup? Yo? Hey? I’ve seen them all and I never respond… but then you have to be a freak to ilicit a response from me because I’m only in it for the story at this point.

The playground is shut down for remodeling… and I’m a bored woman as a result. lol… I open the second email and it only gets better.


4/28/2012 11:50:37 AM

Let me guess.. You found my profile more than a bit on the vulgar side.. Perhaps a bit disturbing as
well. you must have had a few glasses of wine to have even clicked on it.. I know your type.. Your a
mile above me.. And your clearly more than a bit too classy for my common ass.. but I might just
surprise you… And it’s not like I would expect you to tell your friends about me 😉

This guy has emailed me three times, and frankly; he’s repulsive. He’s not my type, I would really be being mean if I dated him.

What really stuns me, is that they make this assumption about me based on one picture, and one paragraph. Enough to insult me for not being interested in them.

They say women are crazy? Oh no. The penis-clad species is equally as crazy, if not more so, because they’re entitled to their jealousy. We’re supposed to understand that boys can be boys and “well you know he’s a man… he’s bound to be protective.

Turn those tables and you know what they call that girl? A date crasher. A stalker. A bunny boiler. Fatal attraction.

He’s protective, masculine, he just loves you a lot.

No. He’s a stalker and if I come up missing, check his house.

Yikers. A stalker is a stalker, is a stalker- and this guy is getting his panties in a bunch because he’s emailed me three times and I haven’t responded, but he can see that I viewed his profile.

Imagine him in real life. He’s the guy who stalks you daily, the one who wants to read your emails, look at your phone and account for every minute in your day and who you came in contact with. He “just stops by” and “just stays for the weekend”. Allowing this guy into your life is like petting a raccoon. They can imprint on you and follow you for life. They come in through windows, dog doors, chimneys. If they love you- they will do anything to be next to you.

It reminds me of fungus- no thanks.

The next email is a perfect example of why I’d really love to meet a nice woman every now and again. If anything inspires me to switch teams… it’s this guy.



4/8/2012 12:18:29 AM
Wanna Chat

4/24/2012 10:59:16 PM
All girls like me I was in the military

4/24/2012 11:11:28 PM
And I have a very large penis

Yeah… he said that.

Like he actually expects a response finally that says “Oh well in that case, let’s chat” <eyeroll>

I don’t think I can even handle these internet retards any more. I may be officially ruined for men entirely.

Disgusted with the species… I signed out of the craziness that is meeting a date online.

I decided to make dinner and invite family over. My mama, her fabulous boyfriend, Sober One Kenobe and Mr. Man Card. My little princess.

Fresh pesto tortellini, asparagus, a green salad & garlic bread. Eclairs for dessert… with a glass of wine, around the kitchen table we’d pulled into the greenhouse and filled with spring flowers. It was a twinkly perfect evening full of the stuff that feels right. Family & friends and great food, laughing around the table in the light of white lights strung around the inside of the greenhouse with the smell of little tomatoes and flowers growing.

Internet dating cheapens what it’s supposed to be. You’re supposed to see a cute guy and smile. He’s supposed to ask for your number and you’re supposed to have dinner or something in this sort of circumstance. The twinkle lights are optional but I’d say they’re worth a few bonus points.

It’s supposed to be as good as dinner with your friends and family- it’s supposed to leave you smiling the next morning, washing a stack of dishes and throwing the tablecloth in the washer.

Internet dating is depressing- and that’s not what I’m looking for.

I can do without the creepy stalking oversharers.

I officially quit my internet presence as potential prey. I climbed out of the mud puddle.

……..and I feel cleaner already 🙂

Oh Miss Harley…

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I have an amazing bunch of incredible women in my life. They represent everything the world needs more of, and for every jerk I’ve had the misfortune of crossing paths with, I know five stellar women… I have an incredible bunch of girlfriends in my life- I’m blessed with amazing examples.

Sure…we can be a rowdy bunch… we’re independent, hilarious and hot. We dance on bars and tables, we ride motorcycles and can out-cook chefs. We are incredibly artistic, tattooed, brilliant, down-hill racing daredevil girls who can get dressed up and act like ladies. We’re a well rounded bunch.

We can do some whiskey, gin, vodka, rum damage… and we are a helluva lot of fun- but we collectively have our shit together as well.

My friend Miss Harley sets the bar high in a group of really cool chicks.

She’s easily the most valuable employee where I work,  she outworks all of us. I’d bet her tips percentage blow all of us out of the water, too.  Without question…she’s beautiful, friendly and genuine, rocks a smokin’ hot body and to ice the cake? She rides her own restored 1982 Shovelhead to work every day. Without a helmet, cause she’s just not willing. (We’ve all tried to bribe her…) Her dark hair is tinted a shade of purple showing under her do-rag, dyed to match the deep purple paint on her bike, Daizy. Personalized license plates and everything. Blingy-butt Miss Me jeans showing from the back of black leather chap-wrapped Miss Harley, she’s nothing short of a calendar girl.

Does it get any hotter? Yep. She pulls her do-rag off, blinks sparkly green eyes at you and is charming enough to sell you oceanfront in Kansas. She’s also the friend who makes you soup when you’re sick and offers to take your shifts or help you with anything. She really goes the extra mile and she inspires everybody by being kind. She’s the girl nobody could ever say anything bad about- and defends even the indefendable. She’s an amazing mother and has raised her son alone for the most part. She just wants to be happy and so she is.

She’s true blue and red hot.

Miss Harley- well done!

She rides the bike her father died on when she was 11 years old. Her parents were just about home- close enough that she remembers hearing the siren of the ambulance that came to get her dad. They’d gone down on a corner and her dad had broken his neck and died instantly. Her mom kept the bike for a few years after he died but eventually had to let it go.

Years later someone got in touch with Miss Harley to let her know it was up for sale again. Seeing it only made her want it more. She offered the guy everything she had and a hug, and he took her up on it and let her have it for nearly a thousand dollars less than his asking price.

Her mom drove it home, with Miss Harley on the back. Holding hands here and there- crying now and again. It was like bringing a family member home. Miss Harley was getting the bike of her dreams and a piece of her dad back, as an adult- when you still need it just as much.

She restored it completely, on a single mom’s server/manager’s wages… until it was finally complete and so beautiful. Her mom gave her the old saddle bags that were on it before. She’s oiled and loved this bike into something beautiful enough for everyone to notice what Miss Harley always did.

They’re meant to be together. They’re a perfect match, like sisters- out knocking boys dead at every stoplight.

She recently went through a break-up because her boyfriend couldn’t handle all the attention she gets.

H- I told him, I love ya, I’m sorry you’re jealous but I’m not gonna get ugly for you. He told me he just couldn’t take it- I gotta love him for being honest!

She has her first motorcycle show today & she even brought us purple t-shirts to wear. I wrote a little thing for her poster and was stuck on the image of her mother and her riding the bike home that had been so life changing in their past. How nostalgic she gets when she tells the story… and of her calling to read what I’d written to her mom and hearing them both cry a little. She’s survived the worst of a cheating boyfriend- who lives with her sister. She’s been through a cheating husband and survived a divorce that cost her everything but the baby he didn’t support. She lost her house, her fairytale ideas about marriage and her faith in the legal system- all at once. Digging deep and pulling it all off, regardless of the challenge- and doing it with a smile.

She’s been through hell. She’s walked through fire  and  is stainless steel strong and polished as a result. She’s raising an amazing son who is growing up with a healthy childhood spent outside. She grows a garden, helps her mama and would drop everything to be there for you if you need her. She’s generous and thoughtful and sets an example with kindness rather than judgement. One helluva woman- doing it on her own with pleasure.

Miss Harley, you are a knock-out- through and through & your daddy would be SO proud.


She tied for 3rd place!

and I got the best picture of her and her mama, waiting for the results of the voting. It was such a neat moment- and it’s such an amazing bond between them. They’re so cute- and it really is inspirational. Her dad may have died but he lives on in the two of them riding together.

My Everyday Fairytale

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For as much as I bitch and whine… I have a beautiful life.

Anything can be better, but when faced with the reality of my day to day existence… I smile.

I miss my son like I’d miss air if I were drowning. I’ve learned to compartmentalize it because there’s simply nothing else I can do. I miss him, I love him, and I respect his teenagehood. I hated my mother when I was his age. I love her now. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

It’s my day off today, and I woke up late from a divinely delicious dream. I woke up smiling, which I do 90% of the time. Either at my darling girl or at the day facing me. I love my job, I love my coworkers and my tomatoes started to sprout yesterday.

I woke up to a call from my darling Miss Harley which turned into a stomach-aching giggle-fest. Laughing over boys and how silly they are. Laughing at ourselves while we’re at it.

I decided to make myself a latte and sit in the greenhouse with the stack of pages I’ve written so far, and realizing for the first time that it’s not hard to read about my trip to Puerto Rico anymore. I was batshit crazy in love with him, and it was delightful. I don’t regret it or begrudge myself the guilty pleasure.

It was bubblegum ice cream delicious. I’m at my best when I’m in love. You can’t help but have a good day around me when I’m infatuated- it’s a contact high, to put it mildly. I bake cupcakes, I sew cool shit, I knit a blue streak… I garden. I am happiest when I’m in super girlfriend mode. It’s ridiculously codependent, but it’s true.

I’ve kicked my bad habit, sigh… I’ve waved goodbye to Flintstone and I haven’t really checked my internet dating email since one of my best friend’s ex-husbands emailed me to proposition me. I feel a little dirty making fun of someone for my own entertainment. Even if it is incredibly easy. … …. and fun. Chances are good I’m going to do it again. Purely to avoid fully embracing my role as the cat lady in the neighborhood.

I rolled over to a love note from my little red… with a Reese’s peanut butter cup. My favorite…. and how can any day be anything less than perfect when you start it with peanut butter and chocolate. Seriously.

It’s sunny and bright and I have broccoli to plant and a whole day to get a tan. I throw my bathrobe over the speaker and get to planting… in black panties and garden gloves. Welcome to the beauty of single womanhood. I can plant to my favorite music, in my panties with a mimosa and my shiny purple nitrile gloves the Easter Bunny brought me. Life is beautiful.

Randomly deciding to take thai food to school and have lunch with my daughter- a treat for myself and her… and we both are addicted to the red curry. Giggling with her and her friends over the boys being so weird <and resisting the urge to tell them nothing changes in 20 years… this day is perfect with a side of laughter. One of her friends asks me if I’m her sister, lol… we laughed all the way down the hall and I kissed her cute face on a day I ordinarily wouldn’t see her. AMEN.

Oh and just when things are going swimmingly…

A bad habit sighting… and regardless of the horrible way he treats me… I swallow hard when I’m not expecting to see him. They should make a patch to shake a bad man habit… Trans-dermal crack? I don’t know… I hate being betrayed by my body, and that’s what he inspires. I hate it. I’m craving him, I hate that I have to admit it, but it’s true. Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I bolted, drove home and changed into garden gear. Facing the music in the overgrown garden that is the penance I so deserve after abandoning it last summer…well… SUCKS. I’m covering it with landscape cloth to burn off the weeds before I plant. My asparagus is coming up 🙂

The worms are 15″ long at least and things are looking like a beautiful year for a beautiful garden. I’m really truly centered and happy in my giant ridiculously overwhelmingly massive garden. It’s round. It’s beautiful. It’s me. Spending my off time with my feet in the dirt makes me a million times happier than spending them in a bar or on a date.

I poured myself a cocktail, took the price tag off my new wheelbarrow that my mama gave me as an Easter basket… and went out to face the music. Oy…

But… even the worst challenge in the garden beats the worst date. It beats Thomas. It makes me feel better, carves my body into summer hot and makes me smile to my toes.

I have fingerling potatoes planted… Rose Finn Apple and Russian Banana… with more on the way. I planted my French shallots.

I broke in my new garden gloves and broke out of my winter funk. I’m happy. Really, really happy.

I’ve been through hell, and I’ve proven that I should not be the one to choose who I’ll date- so it’s up to my friends from now on. I’m not picking again. I have horrible judgment and horrible taste. I’d rather take a year long sabbatical from men entirely, if given the option.

My seeds are sprouting. My garden is on it’s way. I found 2 newts in the cardboard pile today. I’m so delighted with the simple details that surround me that I don’t feel lonely. I watched a dozen stupid movies this week and slept like a baby. I made the perfect mustache cake. I was a mom hero for the birthday party. My darling MSOK made us all look like a million dollars in big hair, which I’ve found I love.

Life is good… and even without a Prince? It’s a pretty sweet fairytale in and of itself.

I Liebster you too!

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I suck at these awards, so I generally ignore them (sorry, I’m aware that makes me a thankless asshole). I was so incredibly touched by this one, though… so I’m breaking tradition, and participating. (Go ahead… write it down, lol)

Ok so the rules are…. I have to post the award thingy.

Awww it’s my favorite so far. Who is Liebster? I’m an information junkie… so I searched for this wonderful Mr. Or Miss Liebster… and found something even better.

Liebster is a German word that means favorite, beloved or dearest… Oh. My. Somebody likes my blog. Gush.

The rules are pretty simple, I have to:

  1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.
  2. Link back to the blogger who awarded you.
  3. Copy & paste the blog award on your blog.
  4. Reveal your 5 blog picks.
  5. Let them know you chose them by posting on their blog.

Anyone who follows my blog, knows it’s been a long fucking month….year… lifetime. I’m waking up exhausted already, heading to work hoping it’s busy because I have bills to pay. I have 2 new emails from more Thomas victims. I refuse to update the total to 19 because I don’t want to. I’m at my wits end and it’s only 9 AM. I click over to read about this award thingy and this is what greets me:

4. Another Beautiful Day in Chaos.  Oddly enough, my old friend <insert sarcasm here> Thomas Murray, introduced me to Jenni’s blog about a year ago.  I came late to her party, and, to be honest, while her writing blew me away immediately, I did not immediately relate to her. She’s younger than me by many years and our lives are very different in many ways.  However, something kept me coming back and what I discovered (along with many thousands of other readers) is an authenticity and vulnerability that is both touching and inspiring.    Jenni holds almost nothing back from her readers and the ensuing intimacy she establishes with them is real and powerful.  It’s no wonder she has the massive following she does.

Blink, blink, blink. Funny how I can write my tail off but in one short paragraph of someone writing about me, I’m struck speechless.

My writing blew HER away? Is that a good thing? I have a massive following? Really? Yikes. I still have no idea why anyone reads any of this. Ok… so panic over praise aside… I have to follow the rules.

1. Thank the person who gave you the award.

That Precarious Gait…

Um. How do you thank someone who gave you back to yourself? I came home from Puerto Rico and she was the first person to email me when I was intentionally diving head first into the rocks, day after day. I was nothing more than a crying broken mess, and she offered me truth to save my spirit. She reached out, across who knows how many miles and years that separate us in age and she dusted me off with the hands of real friendship. She did the searching I couldn’t do. She told me she’d listen any time I needed to just rant or cry about it. She apologized for not telling me what she knew, even though she knew I couldn’t hear it and wanted so much for me to have the fairytale I’d manifested for so long. Like the big sister I always longed for, she stepped in when she knew I needed help, put her verbal arm around me and stood next to me in solidarity when I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. She did something not many people have done for me in my life. She put her words out there. She stood up for me, and for truth and for what matters when it’s all said and done. She’s a woman, divinely and exquisitely female. She goes through the same things we all do, and it’s with great comfort that we read about it because if it can happen to someone so amazing, we all have to know we’re ok when it happens to us too. She’s the woman we all hope we resemble- her blog is simply delicious reading- Enjoy!

4. Ok I already covered 2 & 3… so for the next rule I have to list my 5 favorite bloggers. I’m assuming I can’t pick my lovely darling friend above, so 5 more? That’s so painfully difficult this could take me a week. In this single phase of my life, my blogger friends help ease the silence. They fill my quiet solitary hours with laughter <my own> and make me feel like I’m really not the only fabulous single woman without a light at the end of the tunnel. There are so many of us. Perhaps one day we’ll find the tribe of fabulous men looking for the same light. We are that light… and along those lines, I pick my favorite women bloggers, and damn you TPG for taking some of them, lol….

1. A Bourbon For Silvia. My first blog habit. I love her dearly and I treasure her blog. She the first one to write something that took my breath away. She’s openly sexual and taught me to be ok with being the same. She taught me to write truthfully. Shes dynamic and amazing and a mother and I love, love, love me some Sylvia. I only wish she were close enough that I could leave a bottle of bourbon on her porch.

2. Everybody Wants Some. Ohhhh I love Crystal. LOVE her. I love laughing with her, I love everything she writes and I cannot give a better gift than the link to her blog. Enjoy. You’re welcome.

3. Little Cotton Rabbits. I’ve tried to get one of her damn knit treasures for oh… at least 10 years now. I’ve never been successful, but I absolutely LOVE this woman. I learned to knit because of her. I needed my own bunny and I needed to find peace in my life. I found it through my knitting needles and I knit my baby girl the cutest bunny ever. I love her message, I envy her life and I strive to be more like her. This, ladies and gentlemen… is my mommy muse.

4. Snarky Snatch. OMG my new favorite. I freakin’ LOVE this woman. Her lesson on good head is absolutely priceless and I love a woman that embraces her sexuality with a middle finger flown at the jealous bitches. I love her, I love her words and well… don’t be surprised if you end up in wet panties after an hour on her blog. She’s got mad skills, and I love a sassy girl. Kudos baby- you write like I did before I knew my neighbors and kids teachers were reading. Thank God. I love every syllable. Today’s entry? “Random thoughts I have when I don’t have a penis in my mouth” I rest my case. Go. Read. Enjoy, or better yet? Take notes.

5. I have to break my promise and share my very favorite blogger, who happens to be a guy…. Your Pal Jason. I love this man. I get the whole fan thing when it comes to him because I have a bit of a crush. He’s smart and funny… OMG so so so funny…. and well… I love a man armed with words. Out of the 150 blogs I follow, he’s the only one on immediate delivery and if I had a million dollars I’d pay him to write for me day and night. I ♥ Jason. Awww.

Phew. Done. I followed all the rules- write it down. 🙂

Struck down by his own ego…

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It’s really amazing what you can find with Google.

I found the mysterious Cylie this morning… <snicker> and lo and behold… I found the copyright site Thomas used to protect his entries from January and February- you can find them HERE.

All you have to do is click on the “show blog entry text” link and you can read all of his entries for January, and the 4 he wrote in February.

This is the one he wrote two days before my flight left for Puerto Rico… he even called to wake me up and read it to me after he’d teased me that I need a tattoo that says “Sublime”

Awww, Thomas… I’d say you shouldn’t have… but I’m rather fond of hanging you with your own words at this point.

Better Than Chocolate

Sometimes it’s just about having a truly random post…and this is mine…spilled without an edit…but with a great attitude and I hope it rubs off on your day…
This is what is delighting my ears as I strike a few words across your thoughts :

It is the way to make so many of you weak… chocolate… no worries, I am among you…  I thought about today’s post knowing that we’re all weak for something.  Most of those things are soulfilled…heartfelt…and sometimes a bit painful, yet we are weak…  I embrace portions of what I’m really weak to…
It’s no secret what a good girl can do to me… buckle my knees… her lady-like manners and attention to how she presents herself and the pride she takes in presenting herself in public is the first downfall.  Knowing that it’s a strength of hers and the ability which is ingrained in her thoughts from a young age… personal pride…not pride built into her reactions.  She’s careful…hopeful of how she plows her path.
People ask me what my preference in women are…I’m quick to respond, ” I don’t date women”.  You’ll notice that I refer to all ladies as girls…it’s a term of endearment although some ladies don’t prefer the term, I mean it in the best of ways…  when it comes down to it, we’re all young-at-heart and some of us refuse to grow up.
Today I feel sublime…I feel like I’ve been eating dark chocolate and my tummy is so thrilled for it…  I’m not sure why I feel so at ease, but I’ll have you know I’m strictly low carb and have been for a while…no chocolate…yet I feel that beautiful aftertaste motivating me in good ways…  it’s late and the trade winds are very cool tonight…  my legs are ready already for the next run…
I’m in the most terrific of moods…  all from thoughts about the evening spent thinking of friends visiting soon…and the opportunities that I’ll create tomorrow…
I hope you create a few for you…
Oh if your were hoping for a little bit more with your day, then listen here… inspiration…

Sublime? Why yes, thank you. Yes I am. Sublimely smart and sublimely intuitive. Sublimely tenacious, with his balls in my right hand.

All that chocolate must have gone to his head… you have to be crazy to leave your balls behind.

You have to be straight bat-shit insane to fuck with the whole blogosphere. I’ve teased the morons I’ve dated who read my blog, THEN treat me like shit. Honey… if you have a written example of what is going to happen to you if you’re a douche bag- how bout avoid the one with a thousand-word-a-day platform.

Set that lovely hive down and walk away slowly.

I bite. I sting… and more importantly? I’m holding your balls… so you should be able to feel me shake my finger at you…

Consider my blog the closest thing to a vaccine for douche bags that I can muster up. If they ignore the writing on the screen in front of them? They’re doomed to be the next up for sacrifice.

It’s like the food chain… only funnier. It’s like a stoning… with words.

Ohhhhh Thomas…

These words are equally as intoxicating as when you gave me permission to write about you, carefully.

Yeah you broke my heart, though it may be a bit of my own fault too. When it came to packing I didn’t have room for my common sense. Only faith, hope and love fit in my bulging suitcase.

Newsflash: Money can’t buy class, self-respect or ME, and I’d rather count orgasms than dollars.  I’d rather giggle over a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese with a man who can’t remember my name, any day.

Who am I kidding…they never forget my name. Whether it’s looking back fondly or cursing my existence… they always remember what they were screaming before they really felt like yelling.

Consider me your very own Make-A-Wish trip. Yeah you got to pay for my ticket, but you aren’t actually dying <yet> and it’s high time someone taught you to be a gentleman. I’ve talked to more than a few women who you asked to pay for lunch/dinner/drinks.

Silly old man… we like to offer… but we make fun of you if you ask us to. Gentleman 101, go back to school asshole- it’s never too late for an old dog to learn that trick.

Not to be redundant, but let me pass on a little advice I learned in Puerto Rico.

Caminar con el diablo or… “You walk with the devil”

Take note, you lying, cheating, sack of trash… your shit is about to blow sky high…nationwide media style 🙂

and you can’t say that sweet little homeless man you were so rude to, didn’t try to warn you.

He told you that you were walking with the devil… your ego just got the best of yourself and you thought he was talking about you.


A little advice?

You’d do better to swim out to sea and donate your carcass to the food chain than you would to try to dig your way out of the mess you’ve landed in.

But… here… borrow my shovel.

It turns me on to watch you dig.

My favorite picture from the whole trip… because I look as stupid as I feel over the whole thing. Laying in the sand with my “Pirate” stupid in love and wondering how in the hell I got to where I knew I actually was…

Knowing in the pit of my stomach that he wasn’t what he said he was…just ten minutes after this picture was taken.

He’s a good liar… but he has no stamina. He can tell you what you want to hear… but ultimately we all want to know the truth at some point, and he tells so many lies he never really knows what that is.

He’s a victim of his own arrogance, and a hostage to his own ego. Poor Thomas… beat by a girl… lol 🙂

All Tied Up.

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In a neat little black bow.

It’s been another eventful weekend of Thomas’s skeletons working as a team to get out of his closet.

My favorite line lately?

“I googled him and your blog came up”

Weird… Perhaps I should make a little group for him and Nathan? Matching t-shirts perhaps? Trendy rubber wrist bands that remind them not to be douche bags?

Doesn’t castration sound so much more effective?

At any rate… I finally got really mad about it this morning.

I fell in love with this man. I risked my safety and my heart and flew 4,000 miles on faith created by him. He read my blog for a year. He studied the details and he became everything I wanted right in front of me.

For a minute, anyway…. because when you’re living a lie, it can’t hold up to scrutiny and truth. I’m tenacious. I’m smart. I ask a lot of questions and I remember every single thing you say. I may not say anything when I realize someone has been lying- but I always know.

I realized immediately that he drinks to the point he blacks out, every night. Yikes. I realized every morning that he didn’t remember what he’d said and done and he was back to his sweet doting nature. Ish. He had a criticism for every sentence and it got old, fast. Sahara hot and Arctic cold… he kept me in a constant state of feeling like he loved me completely while being disappointed in me? Odd, to be honest… and I never took it to heart until he started to get really angry with me.

Drunk, he’s your worst nightmare. He’s rude and insolent. He’s childish and disrespectful. He hits on other women, he’s pissy and acts like a spoiled frat boy. He’s worth avoiding until he’s passed out because he’s arrogant and rough otherwise. This whole Tommy persona is nothing but delusional bullshit. He’s your garden variety asshole drunk. He’s insulated by money or his over-inflated ego- either way- he’s only a danger to himself.

Want to get rid of him? Give him too much to drink and let him go. He’s his own worst enemy and nothing you could say about him will compare to the ass he’ll make of himself. Facilitate and step back.

This post has a list of blogs regarding Thomas and with comments from the big bad wolf himself.

The Devil Is In The Details

I was stunned when we got back from our trip to Puerto Rico together and he deleted his blog? All of his actions at that point were so bizarre I didn’t know what to think. He was furious at me? I was sick. He was a different person. I tried calling him and he never answered. He sent me IM’s every morning beginning at 3 AM my time… I was exhausted and not sleeping. Totally confused and constantly apologizing to him… but he only got worse. My friends made me block him and it fell to silence… which was even harder.

Until women started to email me. Many, many women. 17 total… with 5 of them/us having had an actual relationship with him.

So I wrote…

Puerto Rico, Part 1

Puerto Rico, Part 2

Puerto Rico, Part 3

Puerto Rico, Part 4

Truth And All It’s Trappings

Picking Up The Pieces

Like There Was Any Doubt


His Fatal Error

Nothing But The Best For You, My T.

Thomas J. Murray, will you please GO NOW!

and other people also wrote…

Thomas Murray (Virgin Islands) – BEWARE

Thomas Murray, A Cautionary Tale

A Quick Update and Warning for the Ladies

Predator Alert

Bastard Warning

And on and on… the number keeps climbing.

Well, good. Everyone deserves to know the truth about this modern day charlatan.

I’ve always been told revenge is a dish better eaten cold, and they’re right… it’s downright delicious.

One woman canceled her trip to see him in Puerto Rico after finding my blog. A beautiful black woman- heading for a weekend with a man who was openly racist in my presence. That still just nauseates me.

It’s at that point I wonder if anything he said to me was true? Some women have emailed me to say they talked to him about the chateau he was building in France. One was dating him until he was sent to the Middle East to “Stop bad people from doing bad things” coincidentally the same year he moved to the Virgin Islands. He actually talked to her after he was “relocated” and he tried to keep things going but eventually the distance just wasn’t worth it.

Everyone heard a different story about the kids- but out of respect for the innocent victims in all this, I will not discuss any of it. Suffice it to say he’ll never qualify for Father of the Year.

Nor husband of the year… boyfriend of the year… etc… and after this fiasco? Never a viable political candidate, something he cried about to me.

Sorry Tommy Boy… your days in politics are over before they began. Yes they’re all liars, and yes they all cheat… but you qualify as a Lifetime Movie Special…

You make politicians look honest- and those dudes hide babies & bodies.

Your days as a con-artist are pretty limited too at this point.

You’re all tied up by the words you inspired, by the words you spoke and by the words you recycled that we’ve shared.

A bad situation, all tied up in a bow of poetic justice. The manipulative wordy snake, silenced by his own tongue. I don’t doubt he’ll be back. I don’t doubt he’ll continue his whole Puerto Rico thing. It works for him, apparently. Nevermind the rest of his shenanigans and the girlfriends he has scattered far and wide. This man deserves a scarlet letter tattooed on his forehead to forewarn his star-crossed victims.

His excuse is that he doesn’t do anything wrong. He’s in love with the feeling of being adored and of being in love. He was juggling a dozen + of us while I was in Puerto Rico with him. That’s malicious. If he’d given us all the option of agreeing to such a situation, none of us would have agreed, so he lied. That’s the definition of premeditated. He’s a harmful sociopath that deserves the shame that will follow him for the heartache and destruction he’s caused.

We’re planning a ladies trip to The Virgin Islands this fall. Anyone who’d like to join our little trip is welcome, I’ll keep you posted on dates. I read one last text from him before I erased the entire phone.

“Too bad you’ve made St. Thomas an unwelcome place for you and your daughter” and a picture of the ocean from his boat.

Bet me. I’ll enjoy every moment of my time on the island, and I hope like hell I run into him like he came up to me the day my flight was leaving, to tell me how much I’d broken his heart. I want to smile at him. I want to bat my eyelashes bite my lip… then I want to laugh…. right in his face… while I detail for him verbally, publicly, the truth about himself. Surrounded by people who really love me, after he told me I’d never know love like his again.

This man is a disease and a plague and if you are dating him, have dated him or have been on a fun filled 4 day trip to Puerto Rico, email me.

You’re actually part of a pretty cool bunch of women.

Hell… I think it’s high time we made ourselves a t-shirt…

Thomas J. Murray, will you please GO NOW!

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I loved Dr. Seuss when I was little… and one of my favorites is “Marvin K. Mooney, will you please GO NOW!

I’ve been thinking of it lately because Thomas is reading my blog again and I sincerely would just like him to go away. What do you have to do to get a man to gather up his last shred of self respect and fuck off? Apparently I haven’t gotten there yet, so I’ll continue, with a little poem in honor of my favorite book and because I’ve had it.

Poor Thomas… maybe he does like getting his ass handed to him? Now that I can do.

A little Atmosphere… Glass house… the perfect song for the perfect alcoholic liar.

And a little hate poem for the douche bag that wont fuck off.

Thomas J. Murray will you please go now!
The time has come, the time is now,
Just fuck off, I don’t care how.

You can go on crutches, You can go by cow.
Thomas J. Murray, do I need to show you how?
You can go by boat. You can go by plane.
You can fuck off the easy way or I’ll continue my disdain.
Please go, please leave… please leave me alone… better yet learn a lesson and start to atone.
You can fuck off the easy way? Or make your life worse. I can be a blessing, or a motherfuckin’ curse.

You can learn your lesson, or be stung by the bee… Thomas honey, haven’t you learned yet, not to fuck with me?

Thomas J. Murray, I don’t care how.

Thomas J. Murray, please fuck off. NOW.

You can go on your own legs, or in a chair. That’s the beauty of being over you- I don’t fucking care.

Sell your soul for quarter, and go by sale… or fold your old ass in a box and go by mail.

Thomas J. Murray, you met your match. You got lost in green eyes and the thrill of the catch. I outed you- and your bullshit game. If you continue to stalk me, the last hate blog? Tame.

I’m a strong woman, and you’re an old man. I beat you with the truth, and ruined your plans.

You’re done. You’re over. You’re yesterdays news. Read about my fantastic sex while you tie your fucking shoes.

Now to get to steppin, you sold out, old lying spouse. I told your wife everything…I hope she kicks you out of that house.

You can go on your own, or I’ll kick your ass down the plank. Phony fucking pirate, you’re just a part time skank.

Hop a plane, a yacht… or “your private jet”… I don’t care how you go… Just get!

Or stay, pour a drink and sit down and read. I’ll keep on hatin’…record speed.

Nobody likes you. Nobody cares. Nobody believes you and you’ve had to be quiet. I think it’s poetic justice, and a goddamn riot.

You lied. You cheated, but you paid for my trip- thanks motherfucker, now get a fucking grip.

I see you reading. I check the stats- but you forgot about my double major in Douche Bags & Rats. I’ll rise to the occasion and ruin your life. I’m that pissed off, and I feel bad for your wife.

So Thomas J. Murray, I think it’s safe to say… it’s in your best interest, to fuck off and go away.

xoxo Jenni

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