The Heather Chronicles

So, today I checked my email on the psuedo evil M.S. and I get this message in my in-box from some guy. No title, just his picture, which I can't see too well. I open up the message and here's what it says:

come fuck my cock~ 206-853-****

Are you fucking kidding me? Did someone really send this to me??? I'm thinking it's a joke and I must know this person, so I click on his picture. The only info is he's 28 and in Kirkland. He's not looking familiar and so I click on PICS to see if I might see something that I recognize, but lo and behold it's pics of his boner!!! There's even one of him jacking off and cumming! I'm talking big ol' wad of jizz flying through the air. I gasp!

Now, for a brief moment I wondered, "Is this a gift from the Gods of Celibacy?" I always say that the universe provides you with what you need when you need it. So, is the universe telling me that I need dick? No, no, no. Not like that. No, I'm not that sleazy or hard up. But what strange timing...

I keep reading the message and looking at the cock shots in absolute disbelief. I consider myself a very open-minded, liberal person who is not easily offended or embarrassed. However, something strange and new arose in me upon seeing this and being beckoned to "Come fuck his cock". I got pissed. So, like the old fart that I swore I'd never become, I reported the bastard. I laughed the whole time realizing that I have become the snitch and not the offender. It was truly ridiculous what I wrote:

"Dear Sir or Madam.

I opened my email and thought I knew who this person was, but they asked me to fuck their cock and left their phone number. I still wondered if I knew them and it might be a joke, so I went to their pictures and found pictures of his erections and cum. I am laughing as I write this, as I think it's ridiculous and kinda funny. However, there are kids on here and I think the pictures should be removed.

Thank you.

Heather"

They were gone within 30 minutes.

I told my coworker who was still at the office about it, and she wanted to call the number. We put ourselves on speaker phone, muted it, did *67 and dialed the pervert. The phone rang three times and someone picked up and then it was just silence. We sat there giving each other gross out faces and then they hung up.

"Ewwwww. Ewwwwww. Ewwwwww!" I shouted waving my arms in disgust.

"It totally sounded like someone was just listening," said my friend/coworker.

It was super creepy. Either way, I'm encouraging all of you to prank his ass. I'm going to fuck WITH you and not fuck your cock like you asked, you asshole.

And if YOU want to fuck him, his dick isn't so bad. Hahahaha!

With love and newfound prudishness,
Heather

I just returned to the office after my workout at the nearby gym. I should really go home, but I can't leave until I purge this latest question...am I on TV?

When the movie "The Truman Show" came out I thought the whole concept of one living their life on a TV show unknowingly was so far fetched and creepy, that it could never happen, yet now we see there is a reality show for everything and everyone. The Truman concept no longer seems so off anymore, now does it?

Sometimes my life and the things that happen in it are just too stupid to be real. Who REALLY gets velcro stuck on a taste bud and has to have it cut to disconnect (the velcro not the taste bud). Who REALLY sets their toaster on fire with a Pop Tart? Who REALLY accidentally hits a kid on a bike that comes out of thin air? Who has enough urine to piss themselves as many times as I have from laughing? Who can lock themselves in a bathroom not once, not twice, but three times...or am I up to four now? I mean seriously people, have any of YOU been raped by a German Shepherd in a swimming pool? It just seems too far-fetched, but I've done it, lived it, have the scars to prove it.

I think of the the timing of only love songs on the radio moments after a breakup, or that breeze that sexifies your hair as you walk by that hot guy. It's just too perfect. Okay, hold up. For the record, I have never encountered a sexified hair moment, but it sounded good.

I mean life just seems a bit too strangely timed. Too coincidental. Too odd. And then yesterday, I found the proof.

It started on Monday night when while drinking coffee and about to leave for a walk with some friends, we witnessed a man run over a sidewalk while trying to park and hit a decorative light post outside some new condos. Ripped the puppy right out of the sidewalk, it hit the window of a space for lease, didn't break the window, and busted on the sidewalk. The paramedics and police came and it all just seemed too odd.

The next day my friend/coworker Sara and I went walking after work and were walking through the neighborhoods near our office. We're walking up the hill and as we trudge alongside a particular lawn, Sara stops.

"Oh my God they're plastic," she says.

I look around and am confused. "What's plastic?"

She points to the flowers that are erupting from the bushes that landscape the yard we are standing next to. I lean in and look. Indeed they are plastic. I look at the others. ALL the flowers are plastic.

"What the fuck is wrong with these people?"

She shakes her head at my question, and we both continue on with our walk, but I can't stop thinking about this. Who would do that? I then start thinking of the Truman show. Hmmmm. This would explain much in my life. By the time I reach my house, I have forgotten this.

So tonight I go to the gym and I'm on the elliptical reading a magazine and I hear it.

"Ahhh-dahhh-you knowwwwww it's ahhhhhhhh...." being sung almost accidentally.

I look around trying to figure out where this is coming from, but it stops. I continue to read about the obnoxious girl from Laguna Beach trying to be like Jessica Simpson (and why?) and then I hear it again.

"Because of you......ahhhhs eva dahhhhh sidewalkkkkkkkk...."

I look around and see where it's coming from. It's some girl I've never seen before on the rowing machine. She's sing quietly for a moment as she rowed, would stop, look up and around as if someone was talking to her, get it together, then repeat herself five minutes later. It was as if she was listening to instructions in her headphones. I can just see it.

"Okay, rowing girl. You're just supposed to row. Do not sing." announces the producer of my show through her headphones.

"....don't get hurrrrrtt," mutters rowing girl.

"Stop it rowing girl! You're singing again! Damn you! Shut it! Who the fuck got this extra?" the producer of my show would yell as she looked around wondering what the fuss was about.

I stare at her as I trot along on the elliptical. Maybe I'm supposed to throw my magazine at her. That would be great ratings! Maybe I'm supposed to tell her to shut up! I know they want drama, but I'm trying to avoid the drama. I tell myself that I won't let the producer of my show control me or my actions and I raise my hands like the dreaded Creed frontman and...

Wait.

I'm getting out of hand here. Why would MY life be a TV show? I'm obviously so fucking bored that I'm creating all this in my head. Okay, okay. So, I just have freakish things happen to me and around me. I guess I just have odd or bad luck. I guess I will just accept this. However, it would be so much easier to think that the props person was responsible for switching out the cucumber I bought last week and replacing it with the zucchini I cut up at lunch at the office and then asked people if my cucumber seemed ripe since it wasn't clearish with seeds. Yes, I will stick with the props person.

I can no longer live a life of denial. I must face the truth about the little problem I have. I have road rage.

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After my breast reduction I was told that I only had a 75% chance of being able to breast feed. This used to freak me out, but I see it is nothing in the scheme of things. But after today, I believe that should I ever be in that position, I'll be able to. In fact, I could probably get a job as fountain with water shooting out of my nipple after today.

"What the hell?" you ask.

It was a few minutes before 8:15 this morning I woke up hearing my cat Tarot walk into my room. You see, Tarot has a bit of an issue. He doesn't know how to put his claws in. He doesn't scratch on furniture or anything, he just can't suck in his claws. He walks around and gets stuck on things all the time. I will have to unhook him from blankets, my comforter, the carpet, and even once I heard howls and found him stuck, one paw, to the side of my mattress. I'm not sure why this happens, but I'm not worried about it or anything. It's just Tarot.

So this morning I hear him sticking to the carpet as he enters my room. He jumps up on my bed and lays down on my stomach. A few minutes later my alarm is about to go off and I'm trying to get up, but he wants to lay there. I pick him up and carry him with me to turn off the alarm before it goes off, and...BREEEEP-BREEEEP-BREEEEP! The alarm goes off, Tarot looks up at me as if looking for confirmation that he will be okay, or possibly it was him trying to give me secret, silent animal apologies for what he did next. His body froze up in fear of the noise and then his paw reached up to push himself away from me and jump. However, when his paw reached up, it reached up towards my right breast, shiny talons pointing upward.

And then his claw impaled my nipple through my t-shirt.

You might think it was just a scratch, or an areola injury. No, it was a full-on puncture of his claw into the center of my nipple. I of course screamed, "FUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!" and dropped his ass, grabbed my right boob and jumped back into my bed screaming, rubbing my nipple, and praying that the pain that had shot from my breast to my teeth, would soon leave. No such luck.

I managed to make it through my first day at a new church without holding my boob in pain. I kept cursing in my head every time my nipple rubbed against my bra oddly, as it once again sent shooting pains into my teeth. And now hear I am nine hours later with a still injured nipple. It hurts so bad still! How the hell do you fix something like this? Do I put a band-aid on it? I mean nothing's coming out, though that would be kinda cool if something did. I mean can you imagine if once punctured, out came apple juice. Instead of screaming in pain I would have looked down and said, "Well holy shit, Tarot. Looks like we got ourself a new business." I would then create Tree-Tit Apple Juice or something like that. Alas, no juice. Just pain.

Do I put ice on it? That seems like it would just complicate matters. Who wants one super hard, injured nipple? I mean that looks weird. I'd definitely have to put a band-aid on it then to tame it down. I can see me having to explain myself at work, "No, no, I'm not being dirty. I injured my nipple and have to keep ice on it. Yes, I know it's distracting." Hmmmm. Can one call in sick from a nipple injury? I'm not sure, but I may have to give it a shot tomorrow.

Heather

Hello everyone! I am tired and exhausted, but feel on a path back to myself that I haven't felt in a long time. Feels good. I had a great weekend that I feel brought me back to the core of me, and I'm so grateful for it. However, there was of course laughs, annoyances and adventure around every corner.

And with that, The Heather Chronicles.

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