Sabrina – Surprise Visit – Part 1

Sabrina texts me out of nowhere and wants to cash in her free spray tan.  She lives out-of-town but works down at Penn’s Landing at a marketing company. She loves her job and is doing great. I’m happy she’s doing well and has been sober for over 9 months.

She sees her kids every Saturday and is trying to get on better terms with her sort of ex husband. (They’re still legally married but have been split for over a year. But she refers to him as her Ex) According to her their marriage was toxic and she can’t be with him anymore. She lives in the house they own together but he pays the mortgage and I’m assuming some sort of support.

This is a woman I met at the salon with Jill. (See Jill – 2016 to Present – Client) Jill is an ex stripper/escort that can’t stop drinking. Sabrina met her in a halfway house and they have remained friends. Jill is a full-blown alcoholic and Sabrina is a drug addict. Jill told me Sabrina’s drug of choice was heroin but she’s done an amazing job rising from the ashes of her own destruction to live anew as a sober person.

Sabrina once told me that if she even took a sip of beer she’d be right back into it again. That’s addiction. But I know a few addicts that come in the salon that have been sober for decades and they are incredibly great people who have risen above and sustained their lives. Many are professional people like doctors and lawyers. Addiction doesn’t care who you are. It just tries to steal who you are and sledgehammer your life.

Jill is the one that told me that Sabrina wasn’t an alcoholic. She was heroin addict. But like I said, addiction is an insidious force that doesn’t choose between nationality, race, or social status. It just takes some of them.

I can drink wine every day and not lose my shit. It loosens my mind to write, kills my anxiety and depression, helps me sleep and is a social lubricant. But some people’s wiring just can’t take any foreign substances.

I could drink with someone who is an alcoholic and drink the same thing pound for pound all night long. I will maintain my buzz and go home and go to bed after a fun night.

They will in turn change in mood and personality. Lose their sense of time, sense, verbal ability, motor skills, and eventually black out and do bad things and never remember them. They will not destroy themselves. They’ll destroy everything and everyone around them. That’s addiction.

We’re all different. We all have the same chemical make up that makes us human, but all of our chemicals react differently to introduced to outside forces. Sometimes stimulation… sometimes absolute destruction. Booze is probably the worst because it’s legal and beloved by so many. Nobody high on marijuana ever aggressively hit a cop. A drunk guy who’s losing his shit with his wife would. The worst thing that happens when I’m around people who smoke pot is a boring endless story and I want a drink to get through listening to them.

Here’s the difference between weed and booze. I was friends with a great sensitive drummer named Rich back in the 80’s. He loved weed. I like booze. Here is the conversation when we’re banged up on our substances of choice walking down the street:

Rich: (Stoned) “Hey man… what if the color blue to me isn’t the same color blue to you?”

Me: (Whiskey) “I don’t fucking know. Check the crayon box, asshole.”

See the difference?

 

Anyway, my girl Sabrina wants to come in and get a spray tan. She’s middle eastern and is as brown as a penny and hot as hell, but her legs need color. I tell her we can help her. We can help anybody!

I’ll make all of you girls beautiful and tan. Leave it to me!

She says her legs are always covered and she wants to even out her look. I tell her the best way to do that is to go in a UV sunbed. Cover up the parts you don’t want tan and bake up your legs to match the rest of your delicious self.

Long term that would work for her. Her legs could catch up with the rest of her pretty brown skin.

But Sabrina wants to do a spray tan to just to even herself out and look good. I tell her it’s a temporary fix, but she’ll look great.

She comes in and we have a lovely chat. I tell her about my recent date with Bailey on Christmas Eve and how I’m seeing her again tonight  for some wine and Gelato when I close the salon. Sabrina is surprised and delighted that I’m going on a second date with Bailey. (See: Bailey – From Texting to Connection) 

She doesn’t know about Cherie so I tell her I adore her. “I can’t wait forever for you, Sabrina.” (Only half joking because I would totally love to date Sabrina and haven’t completely ruled out accomplishing that goal in the near future.)

“You’ll have to text me how it went! Have you kissed Bailey yet?”

“No. I hope to this evening.”

“You’ll have to text me if you do!”

She looks amazing and gorgeous. I wish she lived closer to the city so I could spend more time with her. I tell her how great she looks and how amazing her luxurious hair looks. She thanks me and attributes it to being sober.

I love that.

She tells me that Jill is about to be kicked out of her current residence because she’s drinking oceans of vodka and sleeping around. Jill is out of control. Sabrina tells me that Jill wants to come live with her.

I tell Sabrina the following: “You’ve been sober for 9 months. You see your kids. You have a great job now. You’re doing well. You can not bring Jill, the broken drunk into your house. EVER. You have to cut her off.”

Sabrina tells me that she can’t bring that shit into her house after finally getting clean and moving forward with her life. She’s going to have to have the “Talk” with Jill.

It’s sad because in Sabrina’s phone, Jill is still listed as “Roomie” from when they were in a halfway house. Sabrina has been an elegant Phoenix that has risen from the ashes of her own destruction, whereas Jill started drinking and whoring once she got out of rehab and the halfway house.

Jill is being kicked out of her present living situation because she can’t stop drinking and whoring.  Jill plows vodka and jumps from guy to guy. Screwing them and staying at their cribs until they kick her out. I’m sure she cares for her son but her behavior screams she doesn’t give a shit about him because she’s always loaded and riding cock somewhere, blackout drunk.

“The best place for her is to go back to the halfway house.”

Sweet Sabrina’s words ring like lovely bells on New Years day. The words from a mother that is struggling everyday to make her way in this life.

 

I’ll continue this story tomorrow…

 

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Sun Stories: Summer – Astonished – Part 1

Summer has resigned from the salon. With school, and holiday winter break she’s over it. I think what happens to these girls they just get tired of all of the people who come in here to tan. Mostly the women just start to annoy them. It’s happened to a lot of the girls who have worked here.

I miss her and occasionally reach out to her because I’m fond of her. We mostly text.

“I feel like we’re drifting apart because we don’t work together anymore.”

“Aww no! I’ve been dealing with so much shit I haven’t been myself.”

 

Thursday

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

 

Sunday

“Hello”

“I was just telling Kita today how much I missed you. I told her I was going to text you to see if you would visit me at the salon… and here you are! How are you?”

“Ha Ha is she working there yet?”

“Not till January.”

“Ohhh Gotcha. Did Achilles leave my final pay?”

“I haven’t seen it. Should I tell him you’re coming in this week to get it?”

“Yea, or I can text him either one…. I have terrible, terrible news as well.”

“What happened, Summer?”

“Charles I’m pregnant. You can’t tell anyone though. I found out on fucking Tuesday.”

“What………………….The………………………………….FUCK?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know who the father is?” (a feeble attempt at levity in the face of great adversity)

“Jake.” (her boyfriend of two years)

“Does he know?”

“Yea. He made me take the test. I had to tell my parents and he told his.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well there’s not much I can do. I went to the doctor to see if I could get an abortion. Guess how far along I am?”

“No idea.”

“Take a guess.”

“Two months.”

“Six months since yesterday.”

“What the fuck??? Didn’t you notice you hadn’t gotten your period in all that time?”

“My period is so messed up I haven’t gotten it in over a year. It’s always been messed up.”

“Ok. I’m stunned. So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t look it at all. And I am not sure yet.”

“Well abortion is well off the table.”

“Yea. six months. That’s a legit baby.”

“So adoption or become a mom. What do the families say?”

“They all sound like they want me to keep it.”

“Well your family can afford it and probably don’t want one of their own being raised by another family.”

“Yes, that’s very true. They said not to worry about the money.”

“That’s good… so shotgun wedding for you and Jake?”

“hahahahahahahahahah Hell no!”

“Just think he broke up with you when you were pregnant with his child! (Got back together a week later) Do you know the sex of the baby?”

“I find out Wednesday. Think about all of the drinking I did since June… We’re seeing if the baby is healthy.”

“I was just thinking about that. Oh Jeez. No birth control?”

“I was on birth control since 8th grade. My liposuction surgery fucked it up. I got pregnant two weeks after it. The antibiotics canceled it out.”

“Oh shit. I hope the baby is okay. When can I see you?”

Tomorrow I’ll come in and see you.”

“Okay. see you then, Summer.”

 

Well let’s see where this journey takes poor Summer!

 

 

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Special Report: Tales of Rock – Slipknot’s Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan announces funeral plans for 22-year-old daughter

Slipknot founding member Shawn Crahan announced funeral plans for his 22-year-old daughter.

Crahan, known by his stage name “Clown” or #6, shared the news on Twitter on Wednesday, along with a note thanking fans for the outpouring of support since Gabrielle’s untimely passing.

“Firstly: Chantel, Alexandria, Gage, Simon and I would like to thank everyone for the endless amount of love, prayers, thoughts and kindness we have been receiving,” Crahan’s statement began. “While it is not possible for me to read and respond to each individual message & comment right now, I want you to know that we can feel the energy shared and we are so grateful. You have all proven that there is empathy, positivity, & strength in this community that we call humanity here on Earth.”

He said the funeral will be held on Sunday, May 26, and that flowers can be sent to the Scottish Rite Consistory in Des Moines, Iowa, while cards and condolences can be addressed to Iles Funeral Homes in Des Moines.

Crahan’s daughter died on May 18. A cause of death wasn’t made immediately clear.

Crahan is the only founding member to remain with the heavy metal band, which was formed in Des Moines in 1995. The band’s founding bassist, Paul Gray, died of a drug overdose in 2010.

FILED UNDER  

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Federal Judge Blocks Mississippi Abortion Law

A federal judge blocked a Mississippi law on Friday that forbids abortion after the detection of a fetal heartbeat, as early as six weeks into a pregnancy.

In issuing a preliminary injunction, Judge Carlton Reeves said the law “threatens immediate harm to women’s rights, especially considering most women do not seek abortions services until after six weeks.”

“Allowing the law to take effect would force the clinic to stop providing most abortion care,” wrote Reeves, adding that “by banning abortions after the detection of a fetal heartbeat, the law prevents a woman’s free choice, which is central to personal dignity and autonomy.”

The law was set to take effect in July.

Supporters of abortion rights argue the law collides with Supreme Court precedent, violating a woman’s right to seek an abortion prior to viability.

The law is part of a new wave of restrictions introduced by Republican-led states — emboldened by President Donald Trump — to introduce legislation that calls into question Supreme Court precedent. The laws, none of which have gone into effect in 2019, triggered protests across the country on Tuesday, the same day Reeves heard arguments in Mississippi.

Critics worry that with the appointment of Justice Brett Kavanaugh to take the seat of swing vote retired Justice Anthony Kennedy, the Supreme Court might eventually move to cut back on its landmark opinion Roe V. Wade, if not gut the 1973 decision.

The-CNN-Wire

& © 2019 Cable News Network, Inc., a Time Warner Company. All rights reserved.

 

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Sarah Jacobs: How to Stop Having a Favorite Child

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Thank you, Sarah!

Family dynamics play a huge impact on how children are formed into adults. Research shows that our birth order also has a hand in how we turn out. The oldest child may take on a leadership role in the family, while the youngest may be the most carefree. Extended family members and our interaction with them also adds up into the mix. One other factor also is how we perceive favoritism among siblings. We often see the one who gets away with most as the most favored one, while the one where a much higher form of expectation, be it in academics, good behavior, even in household chores, is often perceived as the more unfavored child.

Though parents may try to deny it, there is always a favorite child in the family. When you read mommy confessions in parenting forums, it is very common to hear mothers admit to having a preferred child. When we think back on our childhood, we often remember a time or two where we feel that our parents may not have been totally fair to us. While favoritism is common, it often shifts from one child to another, depending on who is “better” on that day or time. However, favoritism can be damaging when it is centered solely on one child, leaving the other siblings
with feelings of rejection.

As a parent, you might not be conscious on playing favorites, but the sad thing is, children often perceive it even if parents don’t admit it. Signs of favoritism may include letting a child get away more often than the other children, how you talk and interact also shows which child makes you more relaxed and calm. Your expectations and how you talk about your children to others also shows if there are any favorites. It may not be honestly admitted, but our how we play favorites
will always have a way of showing.

Jeffrey Kluger, author of “The Sibling Effect: What the Bonds Among Brothers and Sisters
Reveal About Us,” cites that the favored child can have problems when they grow up. They might suffer severely when they fail to meet expectations. This is simply because they grew up overconfident, with feelings of entitlement and the thinking that they can get away with anything. While those children who felt rejected for being the less favorite could have unresolved feelings of anger and often feel inadequate.

For parents to avoid hurting their children unintentionally with favoritism, the best way would be to admit to it, and to be honest about it. Parents are just humans and will also have their own set of biases and preferences, and if there is a child that seem to match up with their parent’s personalities, it would be hard not to show more attention to them. Handling favoritism is not denying its existence. It is vital to accept it as a reality and doing ways on how to make it work for you and your children, and not break apart your family.

There should also be a clear avenue for expressing feelings and emotions. Often, when children feel that parents are being unjust, they would clam up and bottle up their hurts inside. This often would flare up into unintentional bouts of anger and bad behavior. Parents should make it a point that children grow up without fear of expressing themselves. Though children might not understand things clearly, having them express themselves will also allow parents to be able to explain the situation better and be able to clear up any misunderstandings.

Lastly, parents can learn more about their behavior towards their children from others. Most parents get defensive when well-meaning people tell them something about how they handle their children. While there might be those that are just being judgmental, there are those people that really do care and are really trying to help. Parents who are open minded and are willing to listen to others will more likely be able to check and adapt behaviors that can prevent obvious favoritism.

Building a family and raising children is a tough job. While having favorites may not be avoided, parents can show their love to their children in different ways, and their love for them is the same, and never less.

 

Author Bio:

Sarah Jacobs is an experienced writer who loves creating articles that can benefit others. Shehas worked as a freelance writer in the past making informative articles and fascinating stories. She has extensive knowledge in a variety of fields such as technology, business, finance, marketing, personal development, and more.

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Tales of Rock – My Daughter is Making Music

I’ll tell the story, but I wanted to get this out there now!

Let me know what you think!

 

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Chapter 14 – Santa Monica, CA. – Kesslerville

We found a place in Santa Monica that was up at 23rd and Cloverfield.  There was a guy named Kessler that owned every house on this banged up old dead end street. All the houses were pretty run down so I guess you could call Kessler a Slum Lord.

Our rent back then was $40 a week. That’s cheap as hell even by 1982 prices for apartments.

It was perfect. We lived in a small one bedroom apartment on the second floor. (Over the garage) Kessler was a fat slob that had a shitty van with a dashboard clogged with trash and snakc wrappers.

His house was next door to us where he lived with his wife, and his hot blonde daughter who looked and dressed like Ellie May from the Beverly Hillbillies. (Yea…I wanted her)  He also had a son that seemed like a half-wit that lived in a trailer out back. If you looked out our bedroom window you could see the entrance and roof of the trailer. (Did this inbred have to live in the trailer o he wouldn’t diddle his sister?)

Across the hallway from us lived this old guy named Mike Lamia. He was in his forties and smoked tons of weed and delivered pizza’s for a living. He was divorced and had a couple of kids somewhere. We assumed they lived with their mom. He also said he owned a piece of land out in the desert. It sounded like he got ripped off or it didn’t exist because he said he could see his land, but couldn’t get to it. So it was either on the side of a cliff or all in his drug addled mind.

He would get high all day long and watch his little black and white TV and play the bongos. When he found out we were musicians he was always pitching us songs and we were like, yea that’s great but, fuck no.

The best thing we liked about Mike was he would always share his weed with us. The other thing we liked about Mike was the fact that he ALWAYS had pizza in his fridge. He never cared if we came into his house and grabbed some slices, heated them up and ate them. His door was always open and so was ours. It was kind of cool living next door to a burned out old hippie that had endless supplies of pizza and weed.

Frank and I both worked at restaurants so we always got fed there everyday and there was always pizza so we never went grocery shopping. It was a good setup for a couple of young musicians.

Our apartment was over a garage and Kessler let us jam down there as long as we didn’t play too loud or too late.  Liam and John would be joining us in a month and we’d have a whole band and hopefully start getting gigs. Sometimes Kessler’s daughter Patty and her friends would stop by and hang out when we were practicing. She seemed like the sweet normal one in the family. She wasn’t around much so I assumed she went to college somewhere.

The only drawback to the apartment was the roaches.

They weren’t rampant but they were small brown ones and were present. Frank and I slept in the same room on just box springs and mattresses. Frank’s bed was against the wall near the window that looked over the trailer, and mine was on the other wall by the window that was broken. There was a cardboard banner advertising a circus instead of a window pane. I didn’t give a shit because it was always warm in California.

I remember hanging some shirts up in the closet (no door) Frank and I shared. Written on the wall were the words: “Sadder… Budweiser.” I thought that was a clever statement about alcohol and regret, so I never forgot it.

There was this other couple that lived down the hall from us. They seemed nice and normal. Too normal for this neighborhood of misfits. But one night we were all partying and the doors were all open.  Frank and I are drinking these 16 oz beers called 102. Apparently it took 102 tries to get the formula for the beer right. I’m thinking, what a bunch of fuck ups theses brewers are. But… it was $3 for a six pack! We drank oceans of that shit on our limited budget.

The folks who seemed quiet and normal are fucked up out of their minds. They’re laughing and acting crazy. Even Mike thinks they’re gacked to the nines. I ask the dude what he took and he shows me a bag of mushrooms.

“Want some?”

“No thanks. We’re good.”

He points to a light switch on the wall that for some reason someone drew a turnip in marker around it. He goes: “What’s that?”

“It’s a light switch with a turnip drawn around it.”

“No it’s not! That’s my wife.”

“Your wife is right over there.”

(Points to the light switch) “Then it’s my wife’s vagina!”

“Okay….”

(Flicks the light switch to the ON position) “And now she’s turned on! Get it? HA HA HA HA!”

“Yea, dude. Whatever.”

For the first time in my life I realize that all drugs are different. You don’t just get high. Every drug makes you feel a different way and think a different way.

Mushrooms made my neighbor nuts. Weed makes Mike introspective. Booze just makes Frank and I arrogant, giggling idiots.

Mike cruises over and he is high as fuck. “Hey guys, what if the color blue isn’t the same to me as it is to you?”

Frank: (Drunk as usual) “Check the crayon box, asshole.” (Bursts out laughing)

I love him.

So we liked where we were crashing. We’d come home drunk. Get high and go to bed listening to Steve Miller’s, Abracadabra album on my boom box.

When you’re drunk and high you don’t care how many roaches are in the room in the dark.

I remember lying on that bed and thinking about my be d at home and how different my life was now.

I was happy to be away from the prison of Wildwood and my father’s idea of what our family’s life should be. Poverty was actually really nice to be with my best mate, Frank.

We’ll get there and have a great time doing it. This is only week two here in L.A.!

We need to earn some money and go out and check out the music scene in this town!

 

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