My Right To Choose

There are 3 very important choices a parent makes when choosing to have a child: who the other parent will be, the child's name (it has to grow well with them, be used daily, and it's how they are known forever), and finally what school will the child attend. The first two are usually thought of in advance (don't tell me that the other parent is not thought out!), but the third one is a bit more complex.

For me, this choice was one of a lot of thought. My children's education is one thing that can never be taken from them. The teachers my children will have will shape a lot more than their basic knowledge, but also how they interact with others, how confident they will become, and finally what career path they may choose.

When I moved into my apartment, it was not because of the neighborhood. It was cheap, extremely nice, brand new, and in a close proximity to food and other essential stores. My oldest was in pre-school (a private preschool which I paid for on my own since I got no child support for the whole first year after I left my ex husband) so I really hadn't thought much about the elementary school.

For my own protection here: The things I am about to say are my experiences the way I remember them. I am not directly quoting, nor is this a personal attack against the men and women that work within my local elementary school, although maybe if someone sent it to them, it would be a wake up call!!!

I took Christopher down the road to our local elementary school for kindergarten round-up. (for those that don't know that is a mass kindergarten registration) Upon arrival I noticed immediately we were one of 3 white families in the whole room. (This is not racist for me. Many of my closest friends are of other races and I embrace other cultures. It is just part of the story and it has a point.) Of course, then one of the other white families decides to move over and sit next to us.

I try not to judge people on their appearance, however when a person smells so badly that you have an uncontrollable urge to gag, and you have to resist that urge for an hour, you may as well go ahead and gag. My son did. About 5 times during the night.  As if their obesity and smell wasn't pleasing enough, they began to open their mouths and ask a ton of racist questions about the school. Don't use the 'n' word around me, especially not while being surrounded by people in the neighborhood that are black. I will get angry. I will tell you that you are a moron. So when they did, I did. As we are finishing our lovely conversation, the principal gets up to speak.

Once again, appearances are not everything. The principal was dressed nicely, well-groomed, and looked very caring and professional. The main problem is that he opened his mouth. When addressing a group of people, and telling them how important their child's education is to you, please USE PROPER GRAMMAR!!! When you speak and you show nothing but incompetence for the English language, and you run the entire school, you should be ashamed. My 5 year old son corrected his grammar twice under his breath. (something I am proud to say he gets from me)

In the meantime, kids were being loud, jumping off tables, cussing like sailors, and not being told to do otherwise. The parents were just sitting there listening to the man with bad grammar while even the teachers just stood there doing nothing about the kids who could have easily been hurt. Finally, they introduced the teachers, none of which seemed to even like kids, and let us go turn in our paperwork. I spoke to 2 of the teachers to ask general questions. Both were beyond rude.

As we went to leave and get back in the van, I watched my son break down into tears. "Mommy, I can't go here. They smelled so bad. They don't know how to talk right. The kids are so scary." As I watched my son cry, I knew I had to do something. A couple weeks later we got a paper in the mail about school choice. Since Roosevelt was a failing elementary, the school system would have to provide transportation to another school. I called that instant.

I was told to come in the administration building, so I did. I talked to the lady there who once again was rude. "Well, just why do you want to transfer him? He won't be able to get free tutoring at another school. He won't be entitled to free programs anymore." I explained to her I was "unimpressed" with the school. He wouldn't need tutoring, I had two years of college for elementary education. We were not a charity case. She sighed and continued to explain how the bus would be there at 7am and how most parents think they want choice, but change their mind. She mind some comment regarding my age too. I left insulted, but confident my son's education would be taken care of.

Every school day for the last 2 years my son has gotten up at 6am to catch a bus at the school he should have attended at 6:55am. While I was tired, while I was pregnant, while my other kids were sick, everyday we loaded up, went to the school and he caught that bus. Never once did I regret my decision to send him to a place that allows him to flourish. He has the 3rd highest grades in his classroom of 20 well-behaved students. I am confident that his second grade year will be just as good.

This year I took a trip to his school to enroll his sisters in kindergarten. We were greeted with smiles. The teachers fought over who would get to do my twins entrance exams, as they have all told me Christopher is one of their favorite students. When I talked to the principal about keeping my twincesses in the same class, she took care of it immediately and ensured me that it would always be my choice to make. The parents were smiling, the kids were giggling, and everyone left happy.

Also this year when I paid my visit to the administration building, I was greeted at the door. There was a grand apology by the lady in charge of transfers. Not only did she remember me, but she informed me that I had exceeded her expectations. Apparently, many young moms go in there to take advantage of school choice because it looks good on the surface and to others. Most drop out of it in the first 6 months. (I have found this to be true as well.) I guess my son's school had personally called her and told her how excited they were to be getting my twins and that she should take good care of me. She even offered me some advice about head start (I still chose my private preschool) She even said she understood that and was amazed that I would scrap together money just for that purpose. As I left, she told me she would see me next year and was looking forward to it.

I think every parent has a choice. I may not be able to choose where I can afford to live, but I can choose to live well where I am at. My son is well-manner, educated, reading above his level, and happy. I am tired from getting up so early. I think it's going to be 5:30am this year since the girls have to get dressed and have their hair done, but it will be nice to know they are going to be safe and well taken care of.

Happy Father's Day???? Late or was I???

I once saw a commercial for a DNA testing location. It made the statement that as many as 1 in 20 children have no idea who their father is. That leads me to believe a few of things.

1. Women today are such whores that not only do they most likely sleep with and not use protection with more than one man a month, but most likely they do that within the same week. They have so little respect for themselves that they submit themselves to stds, unplanned pregnancy (btw I think this is total crap!!! We all know how babies are made, so no protection/no birth control means you are trying for a baby. Men this goes both ways!!!) and basically the public knowledge that they are an easy slut. I don't believe in accidents. I do believe in rape and that some women go on to both have and keep the babies that were a product of rape, but I do not for one second believe anyone that is not using anything had an unplanned or an accidental baby. (first mini rant down)

2. How many of these whores are going on to raise whores? (products of your environment we've been down my thoughts on this before) So let's get hypothetical. If half the one in twenty are females, which is logical, that means that one in forty whores doesn't know her dad. Also, this means one in forty man whores doesn't know who his father is. The odds of two whores in the same town finding each other, being stupid, and having a baby with their sibling have now become pretty decent.

3. Those numbers are just the ones that admit it. Get this, one forth of married women have had some sort of affair, and so have even more "men". Can you really trust your wife? (If the fathers of my children are reading this, yes, I am not a whore and I am over the moon with certainty of their paternity.)

4. This is my last one I swear. How many men have children out there that they are unaware of? I jokingly sent texts to all my guy friends with children that read, "Happy Father's Day to all my friends with kids they know about", but in all seriousness, how many kids are out there wondering where their father is?

I think on some level every man wants to be a father. Not every man wants to be a daddy. I was blessed to have a baby daddy that is a daddy. He comes around. He spends genuine time with our son. I have a father that spends obligational time with his four children and he didn't get so much as a text from me on Father's Day. I don't find it harsh. I know his sperm created our children, but I don't think a check once a week should allow you to claim fatherhood. I think that when your kids are in tears when they call you, that should be a clue that they should be with mom, not with you on a greeting card holiday made for your sense of entitlement.

Every kid should have a basic right to know who their father is. They should be able to know with sincerity why not only mommy and daddy aren't together anymore, but also why mommy and daddy didn't fight harder to make it work.

I also believe women should stop being irresponsible. Grow up. If you wish to engage in grown-up activities at the very least catch the guys first and last name when you sleep with him. Wear protection. If the protection fails at least you have a name. Personally, I would rather see all children be a product of marriage. I know "hypocrite" right, but we were engaged and I thought we were getting married. Kids deserve unconditional free interaction from both parents. They also deserve honesty from them.

If you haven't the slightest clue who the father of your child is, grow-up, make yourself a better person, get married and have a strong male father figure for your child. Set a good example, even if you decide to raise your child on your own. Stop being easy! Get an education! Get a career! Change the person you were into someone your child can be proud enough of to give a Father's Day card to even though you are their mother!

My final thoughts, if you are anywhere with a member of the opposite sex and you are not confident that mommy didn't cheat on daddy, daddy wasn't a man-whore, or that your partner is certain who their dad is, just don't touch it. We wonder why the US is falling behind, maybe this is part of the reason.

Did you really just FWD that???

Why yes, I did just forward that. I rock, and if you text me something odds are it gets a forward. However, I am selective with who gets my forwards and only the best make it past the elimination round. (Unless I am really bored. Never trust bored Jenelle with anything over a text!)

Ok, so as I have mentioned before I get tons of unsolicited, thought provoking picture messages. Over the course of the last week many of these messages have been deemed not eligible for forwarding due to inappropriate content. While I will not call out the sender of today's totally "winning" message, which I didn't forward, I will tell you that I laughed so hard I woke the baby man up.

"You should come over to my ex gfs house so we can have sex"....I deleted it, but you get the general idea. It was funny. It's one of those ironic things that would be only funnier if it was sent to you by your grandma or brother as a complex joke. I doubt the sender reads my blog (cuz he's lame. (if you are reading this no offense cuz it made my night and you rock as a person)) I also doubt that the sender of the other message I'm about to describe reads me either.

I didn't forward this because the person that sent it has recently become one of my best friends and because we talk daily I don't wish to offend him. However, I did receive a picture of said friend wearing only a strategically placed sock. Not gonna lie, it was pretty epic. He was pretty drunk, but the picture itself was rather tasteful. He is lucky I didn't at least forward it to Michael Schroen....ya he will be getting all my good pictures in exchange for all his good pictures, senders beware. (Evil laughter here)

I also got some other drunk pictures, which I of course forwarded. Some other confusing texts, which I held on to, may make it on a later blog, but for tonight I am keeping this one short and sweet and writing my way less fun, more opinionated blog on baby daddys and Father's Day.

The moral of this short but sweet blog: I have kids. They sometimes accidentally check my messages and flip through my pics. While I simply adore special pictures that are meant for me, keep in mind I have many friends. I am adding friends to my phone daily. The odds of you ending up on a gay porn site are pretty good.

PS...this blog is for my great and amazing friend Kristen. I love you girly.

BAD OR LAZY, parenting mistakes or neglectful?

The following story is a true account I had with a neighbor I will be referring to as chihuahua guy (mostly because he is always walking his chihuahuas in the park) and a guy I will call Parker (mostly cause he is always in the park talking to everyone). While the accounts I had are the true and actual accounts that I personally encountered, I am not completely certain that the whole story is accurate. Having said that, please use your own judgement while reading it.

Parker is what I like to refer to as the friendly neighborhood man-whore. He comes around often and as 18 year old men go, he is of average looks and low mental capacity. He is a hopeless flirt with every female he comes in contact with (ie me and other ghetto moms) but mostly with younger girls. I don't use the term girl lightly. I am talking he engages in conversations with 12-14 year old girls. These girls do not look 18. I know sometimes we feel bad or take pity on "men" that fall for a girl posing that she is older than she is. The girls in this story look 12 and 13 (especially with make-up on, I don't get why little girls put on too much make-up making themselves think they look older, but actually it makes them look like a little girl that played in mommy's make-up).

Anyways, back to the story, I ran into chihuahua guy yesterday and he informed me that Parker would no longer be going to the park. Of course we then dove into the semantics of the why. Apparently Parker had engaged in some sort of 3-way relations with himself, a 12 year old and a 13 year old girl. When others in the neighborhood found out, and by this I mean when the little girls trying to act grown told anyone that would give them any attention at all that they had "related" with Parker, the police were called.

I guess the police went to the residence of the young girls and inquired as to whether or not the incident had in fact occurred. The little girls tried to deny it, but one let it slip that they had had some form of sexual contact. At that point, it was up to the parent (I say parent cause everyone and their mom knows this lady, knows she is a single mom, and we are all pretty certain what she does to buy her habit) to press charges. She refused. She claimed her "child" was a shameful slut and was often promiscuous. Further she insisted that nothing happen to Parker as he was not the one to blame.

A group of older neighborhood guys has now taken it upon themselves to defend the little girls of the park and it's been said that if Parker should return, it would not be to his best interest. Keep in mind I know the guys and let's just say I am not trying to anger them in anyway, anytime soon. Parker would be wise to not come back to this park.

Now that I have shared my story for the day I would like to add some thoughts:

I have 3 beautiful amazing little girls. My daughters paint their nails, get temporary tattoos, chase butterflies, ride bikes, go down slides, kiss me goodnight, and laugh over the little things in life. I was 22 years old when I gave birth to my twins and just a year later I had my 3rd daughter. When my girls are 12 and 13, I will be 35 years old. At 35 years old many women are still having babys of their own, but potentially I could be a grandma.

I won't be a grandma at 35. I want to make that perfectly clear. I didn't really even think about having sex until high school. My daughters will not be either!!! Girls that are that young having sex are lacking love at home. They are lacking attention there so they are out seeking it anywhere they can get it. Then when an 18 year old man approaches a 12 year old girl she is actually just looking for a father figure, someone to step in and say all the things she isn't hearing at home and once he says them the first time she will do anything to keep hearing those words.

I know these girls. These girls don't like me because I "Talk to all their boyfriends". I took it upon myself to have a sit-down conversation with them which actually inspired me to go home and cry. For those that know me well, you know this isn't an easy feat. I have cried over about 7 people in my life. 4 of those were my kids. I explained to the girls that I had zero intentions of messing with the "men" that I personally feel are boys. Continued to tell them that all men want one thing, and if they want more than one thing then they would marry them first. I told them how difficult it is to be a single mom. I told them that they are not ready for pregnancy and motherhood and if they had kids now the chances that their children would be teenage parents is much higher. I told them to wash off the make-up and work on themselves and find a guy that fits into their life, not to try to fit themselves into someone else's life. Mostly, I told them that they were loved and I was here to talk anytime.

Unfortunately, I was not equipped for the response. The jests of it are now in quotes: "There are abortion centers and adoption centers where I can get paid for my baby." "Mama said you are just jealous of us cause you are fat." "You need to stop trying to be our friend and worry about your own brats." "We're going to be way more than you will ever be." "I can have sex with whoever I want, that's why they invented birth control."

Ya, that was the jest just add your own profanity about every other word. Really though I don't blame the girls, not for any of it. Kids are a product of their environment. In my house, Parker would have been sitting in jail tonight. My girls would have been in counseling or military school, or never leaving the house. For me it would be whatever it's going to take to keep my kids from having sex! For me it would not be acceptable for an 18 year old man to make my child a victim! If the police didn't do something about it, I would be doing something myself!

Not this lady. Not this time. Not these kids. Someday I will see them, "raising" kids of their own. They will be too young, too ill-equipped, and too lazy to care, just like their mom.

Words To Live By...

"Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes."

Yes, I did set this as my most recent status. Thanks for noticing. Now I would like to discuss it. Often, especially lately, I have found idiots that are sitting around taking pity on themselves. Oh I am so fat! So work out, don't sit around eating twinkies. Oh I'm so ugly! Save some money and fix your face. Oh I don't have a significant other! Fix yourself before you going looking to fill a void that really only you can fill. Oh I am so broke! Get educated to get a better job. Or get a second job. Or go hold a sign on the corner and beg like the guy by Kohls.

Now that that is out of the way, here is some truth. Only you can fix yourself. Only you can save yourself. Only you can make you happy. It that harsh? Perhaps it is. It is real. It's the most real thing that I can ever say to you. Fix yourself. It's not my job, your parent's job, your friend's job, or your significant other's job. Get off the couch. Go out the door. Keep going until you know why you were at home sitting on the couch unhappy in the first place.

He broke me. He left and I am broke. Financially, emotionally, physically, and unequivocally broken. I blame all my brokenness on him and that eliminates my need for personal accountability. If I just sit here crying eventually he will realize how amazing I am and come back to his family. WRONG!!!! Oh so wrong!!!! All the time I sat there feeling the gloom and doom of what I was missing, he was missing nothing. All the tears I cried, he was off living without me. So I must live without him. If I am having fun, I win. Every time I smile I win. Every time I have a great moment, even if it's without him, I WIN!!!

You see girls/guys we spend so much time thinking that we are nothing without someone that we become lost in who we are not. I don't need you to laugh. I don't need you to run through a water sprinkler in 80 degree weather fully clothed. I don't need you to lay beside me at night while I am having amazing dreams. I don't need you to tell me I am beautiful, I already know. I don't need you to accompany me while I shop, drive, eat, drink or do any other part of my daily routine, because not only can I do it myself, but I do it better alone. I am my own best company. I always agree with myself. I have all my same values. I don't tempt my own fate. I rock today, and I will kick butt tomorrow.

Knowing all of these things doesn't eliminate the need for companionship. I am not saying that at all. We all need to interact with someone. We need to make jokes. We need to talk through our problems. We need to touch and be touched. We need to hug. We need to kiss. We need to not only love ourselves, but love each other as well. So when we spend our time blaming, hating, or resenting another person, perhaps we really should take a walk. (a metaphorical walk). We should separate ourselves from the situation and really reflect on what we are lacking that is allowing us to react the way that we are reacting. We shouldn't take our personal short-comings out on someone else to make ourselves feel better.

My thought for the day is this: we take something away from every situation we are in. We take a piece of the person we share it with and we leave behind a piece of who we were. Every situation changes us. Change isn't always good or bad. Change may just be an outward perception of the inner person we always have been.

Is Your Destination Determined By Your Arrival?

I recently read an article about how some schools are now inquiring personal information from parents such as if their child was a c-section or a vaginal delivery, stating that your arrival may determine something about your future. I have also heard that the time of day which you are born may also effect your personality. Due to these recent revelations, and the fact that Skye's birthday is Saturday, I decided to relive the birth stories of my 5 children and compare it to the people they are.

Christopher was born September 18, 2003. He is now seven years old. People had always told me that I would just know when I was in labor, but I'd be lying if I told you that I knew right away I was in labor. It was 3am. I thought I had to take the biggest poo of my entire life, thus that's what I did. When I was done, the pain stopped, well for five minutes anyhow. That's when I thought I had to repeat the process. It was until my third attempt 3 minutes later when I realized what it was. While most moms have several 5 minutes apart contractions, mine went to 2 minutes apart almost immediately. Then by the time I had barfed and walked to the car, they were a minute and 30 seconds apart. My water broke as I stepped out of the car. Three old men were sitting outside at 4am laughing at me. I could barely talk to the ladies in the emergency room. I was already at 5cm after only an hour and a half of labor. At 10:18 AM, after 20 minutes of pushing, Christopher (who was supposed to be a girl) was born. He was 7lbs 11ozs, but I really don't remember those first minutes after his birth with him. Rather I remember that my resident doctor thought it would be hilarious to put the placenta and sac over his hand and make it talk.

To this day, Christopher is a morning person. He never has any trouble waking up, getting dressed, or arriving quickly to his destination. He is a nag and doesn't give up easily. If there is something he wants me to know, believe me, I get the hint.

Manda and Sydney were born on May 25, 2006. Despite having some mild contractions on the day I was exactly 38 weeks pregnant, they decided to speed the process up by being induced. It took what seemed like forever just to get to 3 cm. Then they broke Manda's water. Then it took another hour to get to 4cm. At this point my contractions were in dangerous overdrive, my epidural didn't work, and I had no time for another because I went from 4cm to 9cm in 20 minutes. I wasn't pushing and yet at 9cm I was crowning with Manda. Two pushes later she was out, screaming her head off like she was going to die at 10:20 pm. All I remember is that I wanted to be done. The doctors knew each other and were discussing the impending fishing season and I just wanted to tell them to stfu. Sydney was supposed to be a breech extraction, and although those words terrified me, I had read a lot about it online, and I felt confident that I would have a couple stitches and be leaving the hospital in 2 days. Only one problem, she was still in her water sac and they didn't realize it until they went to grab her feet, broke the sac and ended up with a hand. They shoved her back in (mind you zero pain meds were being used), and I had an emergency knocked out cold c-section. I was told she arrived at 11:11pm.
Today Manda takes her time until she wants to do something, then it must be done immediately. She is extremely quiet, until you make her mad at which point you can hear her halfway down the hall. She sleeps the most of all my kids. Sydney is stubborn. She is either your big helper, or your biggest rival. She never does anything the normal way. She makes her s's backwards and her y's are huge. She is a night owl without a doubt. She is also very smart.

Skye was born June 11, 2007. At 5am I was laying in bed next to Christopher who had a nightmare and thought I had farted. However, the fart was quite juicy thus leading me to believe I pooped myself. When I stood though I soon felt water gush down my leg and realized that in fact, my water had broken. So we went to the hospital...where we waited....for twelve hours....then I finally had a contraction. At 6:32, Skye was born via VBAC. Once again I had gone from 4cm to 10 cm in under 20 minutes, this time with pain meds! Hooray for that. She cried once, if you call it crying and fell asleep.

Today Skye is my procrastinator. She is my sleeper. She is my little princess that still loves to make the bed wet. She is my smartest child by far. She is always my biggest fan.

I would do Austin's birth story now, but I have another idea for that. I hope this inspires you to think about your kids and their arrivals, maybe even message me about then and how it's played out in their lives.

How You Met Me Matters!!!

I know this guy. Let's call him Joe. ( I am calling him Joe cuz that's his name and I know that this boy will not be taking the time to read my blog.) Joe and I met when I was trying to walk off my fat on the track outside my apartment. He proceeded to give me his life story. Details included his pursuit of a GED and a job at Taco Bell. Ya, this guy is a total package let me tell you. He is 18, and at age 27 his attempts to hit on me were both denied and humorous.

Today I ran into Joe again while I was grilling food. He was in a swimsuit and tennis shoes so of course I made the reasonable deduction that he was going to the neighborhood pool. The pool is nice, but it cost $2.00 to go. So when Joe volunteered the facts that he was in fact going to the pool and the fact that he had no money of course my brain ran to the logical conclusion that this venture would not be a possibility. That was until he explained that he was a relationship whore. (I had deducted this in former conversations as well.)

You see he would be going to the pool where he would meet some random girl. Then he will flirt with this random girl outside the pool until she took pity on him or found him adorable and paid his way into the pool. At this point he would spend his pool time with the female, make her his girlfriend, and go back to her place for sex. So technically this unsuspecting girl is not only paying for his company, but paying to get laid. It's a master plan. When I inquired as to why he doesn't just get a fb, he further explained that fbs are all hoes and he would likely catch something.

This brings me to today's rant. How you meet someone will determine the entire course of the rest of the friendship/relationship. I meet people all the time. Sometimes we meet on facebook, but mostly we meet in real life. Any man that I meet will not be receiving a dime of my money. Ya, that's right. If you are so pitiful that our first chance meeting includes me doing you any type of prop, I will know you are a user and it will be our last encounter.

Also, boys, if our first texting experience includes you trying to interest me in pictures of your anatomy, you will not be a future part of my contacts list. Is this something you would expect me to have to say? Do guys really just send pictures like that to anyone? Why, yes girls. Guys, and I can say with almost complete confidence guys with camera phones, will end up sending me lude photos of themselves. I have gotten them from 5 different guys just this month. I have not asked for any of these pictures. I don't even text anything dirty and yet poof, they appear. I find this slightly amusing. I often wonder if men believe that if we see it, we will have to have it. Quite honestly, it's not working. Just ask the guys that sent me the pictures. If you would like a list of names just send your inquiry to........just kidding people!

Also guys of America, if a girl is wearing something completely slutty during your first encounter, and you are not a beach, chances are she is either conceited or a whore. Take your pick. Neither is a good option. Taking this one step further, if she informs you she is taken/married/engaged/involved with another man, but she hooks up with you, she will cheat on you as well. You'll end up in court on some lovely day with a baby that may or may not be yours that you could end up spending the rest of your life supporting. If she has 3 or more baby daddies currently, RUN!!!! This same piece of advice should be flopped around and used for girls also.

Girls that are considering dumping their current mate for another man, here is a newsflash for you. If he was willing to steal you away from another man, what kind of man is he? He sounds like a complete model citizen to me. Due note my sarcasm.  If he isn't calling you or texting you, he just isn't that into you.

If the first time you meet someone they are drunk, is it really a good meeting? The fact that they are drunk speaks highly of their character. It gives you a sense that they are trying to escape from something. In my experience, anyone that has something to escape from will not make a good friend. They will drag their drama coated baggage into your life and make you miserable. A true desired relationship/friendship should be with someone that has nothing to run from. Make friends with people that have it together. I know this is difficult in a town like ours where the only entertainment comes from a bar or bowling alley, but try to put it into some perspective. You become who you surround yourself with. Dramatic drunks will become you. Then you also will have something to escape from.

Jail is the last place not to make friends. Let's face it, you don't end up in jail for having exceptional manners, an excellent job, and a great life philosophy. Don't get me wrong, occasionally good people make stupid choices and end up places that were not in their destiny. (I am there. Flash back to high school and I would be writing for the New York Times, not some trashy blog about my rants and experiences.) We all make mistakes, but should your friends be a result of a mistake? I say no.

These are things that should be common sense and yet, over and over again, I hear the whining and the drama associated with people that have established relationships in an awkward manner. You become who you associate with. Remember that!