National Coming Out Day 2017

As y’all might have noticed, I’ve been on a long ass hiatus. As much as I missed writing, and regret not keeping up for the past 8+ months, I accept that shit happened beyond my control. 2017 has been kicking my taco! Good thing I’m a bad ass 😉

Anywho, back to #NCOD:

I’ve mentioned my coming out story once or twice, but just to reiterate, you do NOT have to come out if you are not comfortable doing so for ANY reason, and it’s NEVER okay to out someone else, no matter how much of an evil fuckersnoodle they are. If they are truly a bad human, there are plenty of other ways to put their shit on blast without vilifying the community.

Moving right along…

I’ve been asked how I knew I was gay several times, but recently I was asked a question I’d never before considered; why did I ever think I liked dudes?

It wasn’t because I was trying to “fit in” (that’s never been my thing) that made me believe I could one day fuck a cis-dude without vomiting. Ironically, it was my effort to be open minded. I remember being asked out by guys and thinking if only they were a girl, but then I’d think well that’s a silly reason not to date someone! So superficial! and accept.

But as it turns out, (“turn out” #gigity) it doesn’t quite work that way. At least not for me.

Though it took dating dudes to figure out I like women, the keyword here is *I*. This is only MY story, so don’t use it to justify your “derrr how do you really know if you’ve never tried it derrr” bullshit. That’s like asking “how do you know urinal cakes taste disgusting if you’ve never licked one?” In other words, if just the thought of something is nauseating, it’s safe to assume it ain’t for you.

Also, don’t use my story to justify your biphobia. Though *I* identified as bisexual in the past, it was because *I* was confused, NOT bisexual people. Bisexuality isn’t a gateway to anything except being bisexual.


We’re all different. Homo isn’t short for homogenous.

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to offer feedback in the comments 🙂








Unfucking America; The Adult ADD Guide to Social Justice Activism

They say the first step to recovery is recognizing you have a problem, but if you don’t already know that America is fucked, I can’t help you. Tell whoever is reading this to you that this is not suitable for children and to stop feeding you paint chips.

On to step 2:

Accept that change will be a slow, tedious process of trial and error, and remain patient.

I find this difficult because I have a bad habit of “all-or-nothing thinking”, e.g.; If I don’t have time to finish all the loads of laundry, I’ll most likely put it off for another day and buy some $4 leggings en-route to work instead of just starting a small load of necessities.

As silly as it sounds, it’s a vicious cycle (Ha! “cycle”! Get it? Like laundry cycle? *high fives self*) that (have I mentioned my ADD?) I’ve been in cognitive behavioral therapy for two years to break.

This mindset haunts me in every aspect of my life, including social justice activism, but like my shrink said:

“If you don’t feel well enough to clean the house, then commit to cleaning one side table. If one table feels like too much, then commit to cleaning out your pocketbook. If the pocketbook feels overwhelming, then clean out your wallet, but remind yourself it’s always better to do something, no matter how small, than to do nothing”

Translated to activism:

“If you can’t fly, run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward”

-Dr Martin Luther King

Step 3: As a rabid feminist with anger issues and no filter between my brain and mouth, I put fuckboys on blast just for fun; as a white-passing cis-woman, I can be blinded by privilege, and thus cross the fine line between speaking out against oppression, and speaking for the oppressed, so always be willing to listen to criticism from  people with less privilege than you without being defensive.

Stolen without permission from Fat, Loud, and Not Going Away

Stolen without permission from Fat, Loud, and Not Going Away

Stolen without permission from Unpacking The 'F' Word

Stolen without permission from Unpacking The ‘F’ Word

Step 4: Never give up, never be silenced, never keep quiet. You know what they say about well-behaved women? NOTHING! We’ve yet to win a single right by asking nicely. Set fire to the universe until we’re heard!

  • There are plenty more ways to advocate for social justice, and I encourage y’all to add them in the comments, but on account of my ADD and inability to math, four steps are all I can manage 🙂
  • As always, thanks for reading!

TL;DR version:


Diabetes Awareness Month; My Advice for The Newly Diagnosed Dia-Bad-Asses

Firstly, I started a beauty blog. Check it out and like my page 🙂

November is diabetes awareness month, but between the election, *sob 😥 * *hits wine box* developing shingles, and running on drag time to begin with, I’m kinda late on this :/

I may have mentioned once or twice how much T1D sucks giant, sweaty donkey balls, but here are a few things I’ve learned since my diagnosis in 1995, a few months before my 12th birthday, that I hope will help my fellow dia-bad-asses 😉

Someone translate this to GED, please and thanks :)

Someone translate this to GED, please and thanks 🙂

1 ) You will be bombarded with demands to “stay positive”. What they’re really saying is “your misfortune is making me uncomfortable”. Optimism doesn’t put the beta cells back, and you don’t owe it to anyone. It’s okay to be angry. Set fire to the world until you’re heard.


2) Strangers will expect you to educate them. Sometimes it’s out of genuine concern, e.g.; “What are the warning signs of hypoglycemia, and what should I do if you faint?” But most of the time it’s sheer nosiness, e.g.; “Durrrr why are you eating fruit if you’re soooOOOooo ‘diabeetused? Derrr” Tell those fuckwads to google that shit.



3 )Be prepared for the “maybe this is a blessing in disguise” cult.

Maybe a turd in the litter box is an almond roca in “disguise”. Only one way to find out…

4 ) Don’t compare yourself to celebrities with T1D. They have access to the best doctors and newest technologies, the rest of us live in the real world, which won’t stop kicking your ass just because you had a severe 3 am hypo and have to be at work at 8 am.

5) Upon hearing about your diagnosis, disturbed subhuman individuals will ask if you’ve seen Steel Magnolias.

Respond “just the first half, how does it end?” and watch them squirm.

6 ) I’ve been told I’m so sarcastic, I have to announce when I’m NOT kidding, so I’m being dead ass serious here:

Representation matters, and The Babysitter’s Club kept me sane through middle school. Claudia Kishi was my first love, but Stacy McGill knew my struggle.

Off subject, but are people really surprised to learn that Ann M. Martin is gay? I mean, am I the only one seeing these outfits?!


As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to contribute to the conversation in the comments 🙂


The Myth of Killing with Kindness and The Assholery Behind The Phrase

As a realist, I’m often accused of being brutally honest for simply telling it like it is, so here’s a squirrel in a sweater to shelter y’all namby-pamby bitch ass optimists from today’s truth bomb since I’m so adept at myth busting:

From Facebook page 'Squirrels Make Me Happy'

From Facebook page Squirrels Make Me Happy

Moving right along…

There are only two reasons why anyone would use the phrase “kill them with kindness”;

1 ) Because you’re a coddled prick who’s disconcerted by the concept of being called out on your bullshit, so you demand kindness even when you don’t deserve it.

2 ) You’re a self-important prick who feels entitled to one’s time, attention, and acknowledgement of your glorious presence, so you demand it under the guise of “kindness”, even after the other party has made abundantly clear they’d rather not associate with you.

So what you’re really saying when you offer the ill-conceived tidbit of “just kill your oppressor with kindness” is “Smile while you let that abusive fuckbrained dicksnack walk over you”, and if you’re the one purporting to be killing with kindness, what you’re really doing is forcing yourself on someone who would rather not be bothered with your horse shit.

“But wait! This person was mean to me first, so I’m being kind because it annoys them!”

You have every right to retaliate against an abusive twatwig, but call it what it really is; “killing slowly and painfully with madness-inducing passive-aggressiveness.”

“But this person was a customer at my job, so I have to be nice or I’ll be fired”

I’ve been there, and to a much lesser extent, I’m there now, so I’m not hating on anyone who’s not in a position to fight back. In this case, “killing with kindness” is really “corporate compulsory kindness”, or CCK, and the reason approximately 87% of Colonial Heights residents have been killed by “kindness” in one of my short stories 😉

#Therapy* *In ADDITION to professional help, NOT a substitute!


“But what would Jesus do?”

If Jesus can turn water into wine, then he can turn bullshit into weed and smoke it.

“But if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all!”

Key phrase here is DON’T SAY ANYTHING, not “If you don’t have anything nice to say, cloy your opponent to the point of projectile vomiting”, not “if you don’t have anything nice to say, make up shit about them and spread it far and wide until you feel vindicated”, not “If you don’t have anything nice to say, spew a bunch of syrupy saccharine glittery unicorn piss until the one you’re blatantly trying to annoy is visibly distressed”, but “If you don’t have anything nice to say, do. Fucking. NOT! Say anything at all”.

In order for kindness to be a virtue, it must be genuine. If you make a point of chirping “good morning” to your surly coworker until they respond because you get off on their irritation, you’re not being kind, you’re being self serving. A kind gesture would be offering to do something to make their day easier, such as starting a pot of coffee or fetching the mail.

If you’ve been blocked on Facebook, so you “like” and comment shit like “looking good! Hope all is well with you!” on the blocker’s tweets and instagram posts, you’re not being kind, you’re being a creepy stalker. You know damn well your behavior is scary. Especially considering it’s just as easy to unfollow and remain friends as it is to block, kindness would be respecting their wish to be left alone. Maybe a single email to offer an apology, but leave the ball in their court and move on.

To truly carry out an act of kindness, it must be done without expectation of recognition, otherwise, it’s most likely assholery disguised as charity.

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to share any myths you’d like me to bust in an upcoming post 🙂

TL;DR version:

1 ) The phrase “kill them with kindness” is a tool of oppression used to silence victims or insert yourself into the life of someone who’s done with your shit.

2 ) Don’t be a dick.

3 ) You are never obliged to tolerate dickish behavior.

4 ) If you piss me off, and I respond with silence, then you need to thank whomever the fuck you pray to because that means I’m plotting your death in a short story instead of real life.

Diablog Day 7

If I could make the medical profession as a whole understand one thing, it would be that the rest of life doesn’t give a flying furry fuck about your diabetes, as evidenced by the lack of entries between day one and now.

This week has been crazy busy at work, (Not complaining!) I’ve had a weather-induced migraine nearly everyday, Tonya Harding (AKA; my gallbladder) declared war on my stomach AGAIN, I had to take my dog to the vet for a prepuce infection, (i.e.; puppy clap) and my kidney stone(s) has invoked squatters’ rights and thus refuses to vacate the premises.

TL;DR version; This week has been loads of fun!

I’m already multitasking by balancing my glucometer on my lap, taking an injection, and brushing my teeth all during my 30 minute morning piss, (what the babysitter’s club neglected to tell y’all about Stacey is that T1Ds piss A LOT!) so while the task of recording every reading may not seem like a big deal, it’s a pain in the ass, especially when ADHD is thrown in the mix.


Second on the list of things I wish the medical field understood as a whole is that for many of us, our job entails plenty of exercising, so take that into account before you recommend some bullshit like a “brisk walk”. Even under the guise of “exercise reduces stress”, the only way walking “briskly” will reduce my stress is if the walk is to go buy some weed and/or murder.

If I could make the rest of the population understand just one thing, it would be that posting shit like this makes you a cunt:

First thing wrong with this meme is doctors only say this shit to women.

Secondly, if a doctor got up in my grill like that, he’d earn himself an assful of foot.

“I want you to meditate for 20 minutes, twice a day”

I want whoever created this garbage to shove a live porcupine up his ass, but that ain’t gonna happen either.

“Exercise 30 minutes a day”


“Avoid processed foods”

COOKING is “processing”. Is this fuckwit recommending a raw pork chop will repair my pancreas?

“Eat plenty organic fruit and veg”

Bullshit. Organic=$$$. And as far as T1D, our bodies don’t give a rat’s ass if our carb intake comes from fruit or cookies. 100 calories of banana has the same effect on blood sugar as 100 calories of cake.

Not saying fruits are bad for us, but the message of this shitacular meme is harmful and misleading.

“Spend more time in nature and less indoors”

Nature wants me dead. Fuck that bitch.

“Stop worrying about things you can’t control”

Oh, you mean like a chronic disease? I can stop worrying about glucose checks and insulin? Funny, because I wasn’t worried about diabetes until my diagnosis, yet I still “caught” it.

“Ditch your TV”

Ditch your… mama’s TV.

Sorry, y’all. I’m tired.

“Come back in three weeks”

It’s officially fuck-this-shit-O’clock.

Thanks for reading, and please feel free to share your frustrations with chronic illness in the comments 🙂

How Not To Be a Dick to Someone Who’s Mentally Ill

Hey, y’all! It has been brought to my attention that May is National Mental Health month, so I’m going to break from my 30 day writing challenge to dispense timeless #NikWisdom.

Today’s assignment is to name four weird traits about myself, and really, what’s not weird about me? I’ll wait…

I’ve written on this subject before, and I can’t believe it’s even necessary for me to address this fuckery AGAIN, yet, here I am.

This should be common fucking sense, but if someone is kind enough to tell you about their mental illness, it’s because they care enough to want you to know you have nothing to do with why they’re having a meltdown, that they’re late for work every Wednesday because they see a shrink, that when they’re shaky and jittery, it’s because their meds are being adjusted, and not because they’re having withdrawals of some sort (also not a reason to be a dick).

So if you’ve been trusted with the health status of another, keep it the fuck to yourself. It’s not that hard, just follow these simple steps:

  1. Shut the fuck up.
  2. Repeat.

If you’re still confused, you’re too stupid to leave the house. Don’t reproduce.

On that note, don’t come here crying ableism. I don’t know anyone who’s mentally ill and/or has a learning disability who’s offended by the words “stupid”, “idiot”, or “crazy”, but deciding for us what we’re offended by is actually ableist as fuck.

“But wait! I’m totes kidding with you when I say ignorant dumb fuck shit like ‘you’re very productive today, you must be on a bipolar high’ ”

-Fuckwit who’s desperate for an assful of foot.

By definition, jokes are funny. Disclosing your coworkers health issues to clients and friends is the opposite of funny; it’s just plain sad and pathetic on your part. It says everything about you, and nothing about the person you’re gossiping about.

“But you’re already open about it! You write about your depression all the time!”

-Same Fuckwit

*I* write about MY depression, you’re free to write about yours, but you don’t speak for me. Also, being that I blog about my various health issues, if you’re gonna talk about me, the least you could do is direct folks to my blog, like my page, and subscribe to my YouTube channel.

Also, I’m open about it because I want folks to understand that chemical imbalances don’t discriminate. I was raised by both my parents, (who are still together) I had a large support system of family, and plenty of structure and discipline. My parents never burdened me with grown-up issues, we never went without anything, we ate supper at the table together every night, they made abundantly clear I was/am loved, and our house was the safe haven of my friends who mostly had horrible childhoods. I’m in my 30s now, and my childhood friends still call my parents mom and dad, and my grandparents Big Mama and Big Daddy. Yet, I still have depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and ADD.

“Okay, but you like *define* yourself by your mental illness. You’re not even trying to be happy!”

-Soon to be dead fuckwit

Again, you don’t speak for me. Lifelong depression, anxiety, and ADD have shaped my personality, and I own that shit. I didn’t ask for any of it, but as I’ve mentioned before, the Universe hates me, so I use it to my advantage to be a better writer. You know what writers who aren’t depressed write about? Glittery vampires, charming rapists based on the shitty writing of glittery vampire chick, and fucking chicken soup for the soul. My mental issues make me write like the bad bitch I am.

“I get it, I have OCD, which is why I’m always moving stuff at your station and throwing away food you’re still eating. I just can’t deal! I’m literally dying from your messiness!”

*Deep breaths*

Firstly, stop claiming you’re “OCD” when you’re really just anal retentive.
For people who have legitimate OCD, diagnosed by actually doctors, it’s not a convenient way to stay organized, or an interesting icebreaker, it’s hell.

For many, OCD developed as a coping mechanism in response to surviving trauma and abuse, so pardon me if I lack sympathy because you’re dissatisfied with the arrangement at MY station.
I have ADD, but you don’t see me dumping glitter everywhere because “your station is like, totally organized, and I literally can’t”.

If you do not have managerial authority, your boss is happy with your coworker’s performance, and you are in no way affected by what you perceive as inferior, shut the fuck up, grow the fuck up, and deal. Some of us have real problems and your bullshit is further stigmatizing and undermining the hardships faced by those with mental illness.

Before I go, let’s recap what we’ve learned today:

☆ Don’t be a dick.

☆ Mind your own fucking business.

☆ Don’t talk shit about people for things they can’t help.

☆ Don’t speak for others.

☆ Get over yourself.

As always, thanks for reading, and if I’ve missed anything, please add a comment 🙂

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 15; 3 Pet Peeves

Thanks for stopping by! You can catch up on my progress here 🙂

Day 15; 3 Pet Peeves:

I don’t have any “pet peeves”. Things either piss me off, or they don’t, but here are three things I find irrationally infuriating:

1 ) When I mention I’m from a small town, and people who’ve never even heard of my town, and know nothing of the county outside of the military base, are all “Oh that’s nothing. You should see West Virginia, Indiana, Ohio, blah blah blah… derr derr derr…”

Like, are you seriously telling me I haven’t traveled enough to know what constitutes a small town?!

2) Telemarketers. You people are the vilest, most worthless scum of the earth. Folks love to look down on drug dealers and prostitutes, but drug dealers and prostitutes offer an actual service for your money and have enough couth to not interrupt others at their jobs.

If you “work” as a telemarketer, understand that no one likes you, you have no friends, and you are the greatest source of shame for your family. Get a real job, and stop bugging the fuck out of me at mine.

3) Facebook posts announcing one’s plans of removing “negativity” from their lives and boasting of only associating with folks who’ll “elevate their status”.

If those you’re trying to emulate have the same goal of only hanging with folks who’ll “elevate” them, then they won’t want to hang you. It’s no one’s responsibility to boost your status, work on yourself, and when you know better, do better*.

*-Maya Angelou