Relay racing

I’ll start this off by stating that the furthest I’ve ever gone in the sports world is last in long distance track running. That describes my level of physical ability. What I’ve discovered, however, is that I can rock relay racing when I’ve been blessed with such an incredible team of racers to run with.

I’m lucky, I recognize that. I have a significant amount of short comings as well, and i honour that in myself. But the best part about my journey is you. And all the lengths you go to be there with me. I couldn’t ask for more. (But you know I will because the further we get on the track, the more aware I become of those less fortunate pals who have not been given a fair chance)

(This next paragraph should be read in the voice of scooby Doo)

When I ask for more, it is not for me. It is for those who have no legs for running, or whose wings have been clipped, or whose Wanky criminalS who swear their swords on their rarms but are incapable of wielding it. They should be under Judge Judy’s leathered, stinky feet. They deserve nothing less than house arrest-do not pass go, do not collect 500, straight to jail from whenst ye blubbering arseholes came from. 

(The next sentence should be read by an East Indian British, openly gay, two-spirited, pansexual non-binary femme. Just a heads up)

goddamit now I’m craving jalapeƱo poppers !!! And chocolate ganache cake for dessert with homemaED strawberry topping. Ok i DO stress eat. Meh. Atleast I can handle my liquor. 

I chew chew choose U


It’s been quite a while since I’ve put “pen to paper”; life has presented some remarkable situations in which I am forced to challenge my own identity and beliefs. Oh who the fuck am I sugar-coating this for?!? Sigh. The after-effects of political correctedness. 

I am aware that I am a very privileged and spoiled individual, and although the shit that I wade through at times may seem endless, it is not. It’s all like a flash in the pan, like those two little sausages-one goes ‘pop’ and the other goes ‘bam’.

I often wish I had some sort of logical explanation for the unexplainables of my existence; for now I just go through the (e)motions as they swell up, knowing that somehow the end result will be a bigger, badasser version of “Me”.

I choose to change my life and to mold it in to what I really want it to look like. That means a lot has shifted and will continue to do so, both in and ex-ternally.  {Sing for the lion and lamb.} I took a bbq lighter to a 13-year relationship because I choose not to be silent about abuse in all its ibs-infested manifestations. That was a mouthful. Cheque please.

Kids, don’t Try this at home.

I am also done with apologizing for mistakes I haven’t made, or for even making mistakes. Period. I mess up, All. The. Time. It’s part of growth, it’s part of the human experience. The road to self actualization and all that jazz. Meh. Or it could be a big scam. Who really knows? All I know is that choosing change is essentially choosing self-love. And love is contagious- so put that in your cedar pipe and smoke it.

In the end it’s all chicken nuggets, no matter where you eat, so you may as well throw some honey garlic sauce on this mother effin’ thing we call life and dig in like a wild boar. I’ll take mine with a lifetime supply of sriracha, please and thank you.

Yours in good faith,,,