by webdev | Aug 21, 2022 | Current (crazy) events, I heart symbols, My (forced) reinvention, Writer Chick
People, I think it’s finally time to call a spade a spade. I’m definitely totally cursed. And I’m only half-joking. Maybe half is underestimating. I’m probably closer to quarter-joking. Perhaps even sixteenth-joking. Because if voodoo is real, it’s pretty clear...
by webdev | Aug 8, 2015 | Current (crazy) events, My (forced) reinvention, My bat-shit crazy divorce, Wine. 'Nuff said., Writer Chick
One year ago tonight was the last time. I don’t remember, but I’m sure I went to bed feeling happy, complete, in love, full of hope. I’m confident that he wrapped his arms wrap around me, and I breathed in, secure in his presence, as I had every day for the almost six...
by webdev | Aug 8, 2015 | My (forced) reinvention, My bat-shit crazy divorce, Wine. 'Nuff said., Writer Chick
One year ago tonight was the last time. I don’t remember, but I’m sure I went to bed feeling happy, complete, in love, full of hope. I’m confident that he wrapped his arms wrap around me, and I breathed in, secure in his presence, as I had every day for the almost six...
by webdev | Feb 9, 2015 | My (forced) reinvention, My bat-shit crazy divorce
It’s after 5 a.m., and I have yet to go to bed. Fuck. In less than 5 hours, I have to attend a hearing at justice court for Brick 2.0. Fuck. Shortly after that, my older two children return from Brick 1.0’s home, an every-other-week ritual typically served up with...
by webdev | Jan 7, 2015 | Current (crazy) events, My (forced) reinvention, My bat-shit crazy divorce
When I was a senior in high school, the “new guy” in school was assigned the locker right next to mine. His last name, luckily enough: Butler. Mine: Byerman. So it was a match made in alphabetical-order heaven. He was dreamy. He was confident and suave. He was...
by webdev | Jul 26, 2013 | Current (crazy) events, My (forced) reinvention, My bat-shit crazy divorce, Writer Chick
What are you looking at? Yeah, that’s right. You. Right there. I see you, with that perplexed look on your face. That furled brow. That “who-the-Methuselah is this baby, and why am I getting an email from this person I had practically forgotten even...
