Archive for July, 2012

Post #70 – More BALONEY from Ms. Cranky Pants…

Posted in Family, grandmothers, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 31, 2012 by tenaciousbitch

I sat on my couch numb-struck for a moment because my brain was SIZZLING and crackling with ANGER.

“I’m sorry, she said, what?” I asked my mother-in-law, Sarah, who was sitting next to me.

Wearing a grim expression, she replied, “When Nana* and I went grocery shopping, she said she wouldn’t buy DIRT at Kroger and that Charlie buys cheap meat.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know it is. I reminded her that Charlie frequently makes Porterhouse steaks for everyone on Memorial Day, and last time I visited too, and he bought her filet Mignon,” Sarah explained in a bitter tone.

“And the only cheap meat I’ve ever seen in your fridge in the 15 years since you got married,” Sarah continued, “is that Kroger brand deli meat that Charlie buys for himself because he doesn’t care what brand he buys. And there’s nothing wrong with Kroger meat anyway, but I know he didn’t buy that for her HIGHNESS. She also said that you never bake anything and that her room hadn’t been cleaned in months.”

“What the hell is she talking about? I clean her room every Saturday! And I just cleaned it the day before we left for Vegas. Was it dusty or something because of her opening the window?”

“No. I told her that her room was spotless when I got here until the dog took a nap in there and got blond fur all over the place, which I vacuumed up while she was in the shower.”

“And I stopped baking anything for her because she’d eat maybe two pieces of cake or a couple cookies or something, and I’d end up throwing the rest out unless it was something that Max likes because she wants a different damned desert every day except when I made donuts. And she ate TWO donuts every day.”

“I know. She told me,” Sarah said.

“She just doesn’t understand. I’m already spending 3-5 hours every day cooking, washing dishes and trying to keep the house clean, which as you know, doesn’t leave near enough time for me to work. So, I’m sorry that I haven’t had time to bake Ms. Cranky Pants a fresh dessert every day. And she’s the ONLY person who eats all that anyway. Charlie and I are both trying to lose weight. And Max is here so little now with his work schedule and everything that he only eats dinner here at 10 or 11 o’clock at night when he may or may not be in the mood to eat angel food cake or whatever.”

Sarah nodded. “I know. I don’t understand her attitude. And what’s wrong with Kroger? And I told her that all the stores carry about the same thing. So, why go over to Giant Eagle or whatever when everything is going to cost 50 cents or a dollar more.”

And for the record, since Nana moved in with us 18 months ago, I’ve made: Coca Cola Cake THREE TIMES, and all of the following at least twice: blueberry muffins (from scratch), chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal cookies, Snickerdoodles, blond and chocolate brownies, chocolate chip muffins, sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies, pound cake, lemon cake, cheesecake, honey bran muffins, and homemade bread more than 20 times because I prefer it to store bought bread.

I’m thinking this lack of RECALL is a pretty good indicator of Alzheimer’s or Dementia, is it not?

Sarah nodded. “I know. I don’t understand her attitude and how she can be so ungrateful.”

“And how tactless to badmouth my husband to his MOTHER of all people.”

Sarah nodded.

I was so furious that I avoided Nana for the next three days, and then I couldn’t help it. My inner most BITCH broke free and lambasted the old bird.

I walked into her room, sat down on the bed and said, “You and I have to have a serious chat.”

“Oh, is something wrong?” Nana asked innocently.

“Yes, you can disparage me ALL you want, but if you EVER make another derogatory comment about Charlie or my boys, you’ll be living in the street!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Sarah told me what you said about Charlie buying cheap meat and that you wouldn’t buy dirt at Kroger.”

Nana blinked, her eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t say that.”  But I could tell by the way her eyes were shifting nervously that she was lying.

“Really and you didn’t hoard any money to give Cathy, either, did you**?”

Nana grimaced and began taking deep and rather loud breaths like she might hyperventilate, which is ALL an act because she stopped doing it like 30 seconds later.

“Yeah, Sarah made up awful things about her own SON? So, I suggest you keep your obnoxious and insensitive comments to yourself from now on or start packing!” I hollered, slamming the door behind me.

For those of you who might not GET why Nana’s comments infuriated me so badly, take a gander at:

Nay, what she said on my mother’s death bed was worse. However, this latest defaming of my husband’s character was a major turning point in my life. A few days after I got back from Vegas, I started researching nursing homes…and that’s ALL I’m gonna say about that for now.

THANKS for tuning in, boys and girls. I must go now, the Geriatric Beast is yowling for more tea…

Over and out from the FLAMES of Paradise LOST…

TenaciousBITCH and her band of bullshit QUASHERS!


*For a humorous story about Nana, check out #18 The Oatmeal Incident at:    …or Post #62 –

** For info on that, check out:   …. and Post #69 –

© Tenacious Bitch/Kennedy Smith 2012

ALL posts:    © Tenacious Bitch/Kennedy Smith 2012


Post #69 The brooding Nana vs. the world of it’s all fine…

Posted in Family, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2012 by tenaciousbitch

For those who wish to read about my crackhead brother who stole Nana’s life savings, go to:

Otherwise, for my regulars..I have an update on Nana and her hoarding and spending spree mentioned in the previous post:

The day after returning from vacation, I brought Nana’s morning meds to her, and she said, “Would you mail this to Cathy, please?” Handing me an envelope addressed to the infamous Cousin Cathy*, she continued, “It has a check in it for $25.” And her tone was so casual – as if the subject of giving money to the chronically unemployed Cathy hasn’t been a constant point of contention between us.

“Nana, you KNOW you CANNOT afford to give anyone any money.”

“I discussed it with Reverend Jim.”

“Reverend Jim is a good man, but he’s not managing your money. I am, at YOUR request. If you give Cathy money, you’ll run short on your bills and prescriptions, and I’ll have to pay for them and your groceries. And you won’t be able to get your hair done or -”

“Then, I won’t get my hair done.”

“I am not washing your hair for you. I don’t have time.”

Her scowl deepened, and she said, “And cancel my appointment with Dr. Raines tomorrow.”

“You can’t cancel again. They’ll charge you $25 because I’ve already rescheduled that appointment twice, and you need to go. You need to get your teeth fixed.”

So, we can STOP hearing about her broken teeth and how hard it is to chew everything, and so she can eat a larger repertoire of meat other than chicken that has been bludgeoned into a brie-ish pancake with a meat hammer or frozen Salisbury steaks.

Nana sighed. “But it’ll cost me money to see Dr. Raines, won’t it?”

“Yes, $15, but I budgeted for that. What I didn’t budget for was you spending almost $200 while I was gone.”

“Well, it wasn’t on me.”

“It doesn’t matter WHAT you spent it on. I gave you $80 out of your account, because you didn’t want to use your debit card. Instead, you spent $40 on two gift cards for Cathy -”

Nana scowled,

“Yes, Sarah** told me about the Walmart cards.”

Nana brightened momentarily asking, “What about Ben***? Did he send me anything?”

“Yes, and you spent every dime of that $150, that was earmarked for your BILLS and your prescriptions, not to buy Cathy clothes at the Thrift Store.”

“Just $12 for pants and a blouse.”

“Yes, I know,” I said acidly, “Cathy needs to buy her own damned clothes, and the rest of the charges were to Burger King and Golden Corral, and I don’t remember where else. But the point is, I’ve already put over $6,000 on my credit card in the last year from two trips to Georgia to clean out your house and to buy your prescriptions and your health insurance and everything else when you run short, and I can’t afford to-”

“I know all that.”

“Then, why in God’s name are you asking me to send Cathy money?”

She just looked at me, eyes blaring wide. “She has nothing to eat.”

“Bullshit. She’s going to spend it on cigarettes and beer and-”

“She doesn’t drink, and she wouldn’t do that!”

“How do you know? Are you going to be there when she goes shopping?!”

And remember…Cathy lives in West Virginia about 200 miles from me and Nana in Ohio.

Nana’s pale face blanches, and her chin starts to quiver, but not in sorrow over the truth finally seeping into her brain…no, in anger at me. “She’ll buy food with it. I trust her!”

“Well, you shouldn’t. You trusted Danny, and look how THAT turned out.”

“She’s not Danny. She’s a good Christian.”

I nodded my head. “Uh, uh, and Danny said he found God right before he emptied your bank account.”

A stalemate of stares ensues between us, and I end it with, “This,” I said, shaking the envelope at her, “is the last time you give Cathy any money as long as I’m managing your finances.” I stood up and moved toward the door of Nana’s room. “If Cathy needs money, she can get a damned job!” I yelled. “And if you give her any money, you can just pack your shit and move in with her because I am so DONE,” I shouted, slamming the door behind me.

I sat staring at the envelope to Cathy for the longest time. I REALLY had to fight the urge to rip it open, tear up that check and use those gift cards to buy Depends for Nana (and those frickin’ things are expensive!) and her medication, and that fucking PREGO spaghetti sauce she likes instead of my homemade sauce (yes, from scratch…go figure) and her fucking “sweets” she requires daily like Krispie Kreme donuts, and I could enumerate quite a few items for the $65 she wanted me to throw away on the leech known as Cousin Cathy.

But I didn’t. I typed a note to Cathy explaining that Nana is flat-busted broke, and this is the LAST time she’ll receive money from Nana Maude, and to PLEASE stop blathering about her financial problems since it only upsets my Grandmother knowing she CAN’T help her. And I made no mention that I think she’s a worthless, lazy liar. I then put Nana’s envelope in a bigger, brown envelope and slipped my note inside and mailed it to Cathy.

I was rather flat-toned, bordering on surly for the next day or so with Nana, but every time I walked into Nana’s room, she was all sunshine and smiles. I couldn’t tell if it was an act, or in her schizophrenic/alzheimer-ish way, she didn’t remember our verbal altercation.

However, whenever my husband talked to her, she was quiet and her voice took on this moaning quality as if she were suffering from the flu or something. He didn’t go for her ruse though and ask her what was wrong. He just feigned not noticing.

Then, when Charlie told her that dinner was ready a mere 6 hours after our confrontation, she said, “Do you want me to stay in here and eat?” And she’d been in her room ALL day…

Yeah, as if she weren’t welcome at the dinner table… 🙂 …she joined us, and was very chatty as usual as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Funny thing…two days later, Cathy called saying she’d gotten the gift cards and everything, but she had to go to the Post Office to get the package because they were holding it for POSTAGE DUE! She had to pay $1.06 for her ill-gotten gain. When Nana told me, I CACKLED with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Nana asked, rather confused.

“Nothing. I’ve gotta finish a project that’s due in a couple of hours.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I took Cathy’s package to the Post Office and weighed it, and the postal meter said it would cost $.74 cents. I stuck two stamps on it and tossed it in the outgoing mailbox!

After that, things were calm until…I found out what she said to Sarah when they went grocery shopping…

STAY tuned, boys and girls, if you wanna hear about the INSULTS she levied against me and Charlie (you know, the husband)…

Over and out from the fires of GERIATRIC HELL…

TenaciousBITCH and company…

* Cathy’s backstory and her conniving aplenty are mentioned in

**Sarah is my mother-in-law who takes care of Nana when I’m out of town.

*** Ben is my older brother who lives in California, who has helped out a lot since Nana moved in with us.

Post #68 – The attempted CON of Ms. Cranky Pants…

Posted in Family, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 11, 2012 by tenaciousbitch

As most of you know, my 95-year-old Grandmother/ aka Ms. Cranky Pants (aka Nana Maude), moved in with me, my husband, Charlie, and my son, Max, 18 very LONG months ago. For the 411 on Nana, go to Post #1 – regarding her migration from Georgia to living with us (in Ohio) after my brother, Danny, fleeced her for approximately $50K.

Otherwise…read on. This week Charlie and I are on vacation…i.e. the photo below of my feet and I soaking up some sunny respite yesterday…

The joy of lounging at our timeshare in Vegas…or are we at the resort in Aruba? Sorry, Merlot-muddled brain isn’t functioning at top capacity… :)..have to ask the husband later…

A couple of weeks prior to our joyous departure, Nana asked me to withdraw some money from her bank account EVERY single time I left the house. First, to buy a few lottery tickets, so I retrieved $20, but she only bought $10 worth.

And the 2nd time, she said, “I want some money to go shopping at the cheap store. Forty dollars, I guess.”

The “cheap store” refers to our favorite thrift store, about a mile from my house. “But they take debit cards,” I reminded her, hoping to save myself another trip to the ATM. I already had a pretty full slate that day, i.e.:  mailing a manuscript back to a client, returning a book to the library, getting a prescription for Nana, and buying a long list of groceries.

“I know, but…” she said, followed by a pregnant pause, as if she were struggling for words. “Cash is just easier.”

I sighed in annoyance. Even though she does have arthritis, Nana has NO TROUBLE whipping out her bank card at Kmart or Walmart.  Why the hell is it suddenly so difficult to pay via debit card at the Thrift Store?

I did as she asked, so she’d quit bugging me, and, big surprise! She bought NOTHING at the “cheap store” during our next visit.

As I was leaving for a doctor’s appointment a few days later…she asked:

“Would you get $20 out for me-?”

“Nana, you’ve got $50. Why do you need more than that?” I asked, once again feeling my blood pressure rising to crimson levels in my face.  I really didn’t want to make another stop since going to the doctor was going to consume half my day as it was, nor did I get this sudden need for greenbacks!

“I wanna take Sarah to lunch at Bob Evans.,” Nana answered.

Sarah is my saint of a mother-in-law who always takes care of Nana in my absence.

“You could buy lunch there for you, Sarah and half the neighborhood for $50. Use your debit card.”

She just looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed. “But I wanna go to the Cheap Store too, while Sarah’s here.”

I groaned. Too fatigued to squabble anymore, I groaned and said, “Okay.”

Her guilt must’ve sprung a leak because she said, “Well, if you have time. I know it’s a long drive to the doctor’s office.”

YES, you demanding old bat, it’s a 50-minute drive round-trip that I have to make because of YOU. I had a huge patch of psoriasis festering on my shin from Nana-induced stress, hence the trip to the dermatologist…

However, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe she wanted to do some Christmas shopping while I was gone. Last year, she complained about having trouble buying anything for me because I always took her shopping, so she gave me a check for $50, which is FINE by me. I’d prefer she save her money for emergencies like long-term medical care, but I wasn’t going to bring that up NOW.

You’d THINK after obtaining $30 more, that’d be the end of Nana’s cash obsession, but you’d be SO wrong. The next day, I didn’t wanna deal with the nightmare of cooking her midday cuisine*, so I decided to go get KFC for her. After I hollered good-bye, Nana called out, “Don’t forget to get some cash out for me. I wanna take Sara to Bob Evans.”

For fuck’s sake? SERIOUSLY? “Nana, you’ve got $80 already.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” I snapped. My temper was definitely ready to detonate. Aside from packing, I had a lot of cleaning and such before vacation. Arguing with Ms. Cranky Pants was NOT on my list of action items (and if you don’t know what “action items” are, for Chrissakes, go watch FIGHT CLUB already :)).

I marched into Nana’s room, snatched her purse and handed it to her. “See for yourself.”

She opened up her wallet, which contained ONLY $20. YES TWENTY DOLLARS!

“Nana, where’s rest of that money?” I inquired, somewhat panicked.

“What money?” She asked, flat-eyed, and seemingly unconcerned.

“You had EIGHTY dollars yesterday. Remember? I went to the ATM after I saw Dr. Spender. What’d you do with it?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I don’t know . It’s in a drawer in there somewhere,” she replied with a shrug.

I trotted back into her room, rifled through every drawer and the closet, to no avail. Nothing under the bed and in her hamper either.

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll find it later,” she replied, smiling, as if losing $60 was no big deal.

WTF? Last Christmas, she misplaced a $50 gift from her friend, Margaret. She kept saying she’d given me the check to cash for her, but I knew she hadn’t because I couldn’t have cashed it since my name wasn’t on it, which I explained NUMEROUS times.

She fretted about that check for weeks. She finally found it buried in her dresser somewhere in March. But THIS TIME she’d misplaced $60, and she wasn’t upset, AT ALL.

Her attitude completely invalidated my Christmas shopping theory. I assumed that Nana had finally succumbed to the treacherous wasteland of Alzheimer’s, or there was a rat squirming around that ancient brain of hers…

Turns out, it’s the latter. She told Sarah yesterday that she didn’t lose that $60. No, no, no Nana’s been HOARDING money to give to Cousin Cathy, who lives in West Virginia.

Cathy is my 2nd or 3rd cousin, whom I’ve only met once. She doesn’t work, and she milks some mysterious and seemingly nonexistent medical issues as a means to convince everyone, including her shrink, that she can’t work.

However, when I’ve asked about Cathy’s health, her answer is always the same, “Oh, I’ve got all kinds of things wrong with me.”

She’s NEVER more specific than that. The only medical maladies she’s actually talked about is being constipated or having insomnia. And last I checked, neither of those prevent full-time or part-time employment.

Additionally, during a brief period of sobriety, when my brother Danny, lived with Nana, he mentioned Nana giving Cathy a lot of money, including $600 for dental bills, then another $400 while I just happened to be visiting in March of 2010 also supposedly for dental work.

When Cathy called the day before I left Nana’s, I asked, “Are you feeling okay? Nana said you’d been to the dentist?”

“Yeah, I, uh, had a filling replaced.”

EXCUSE ME? “Why would that cost $400?”

“Oh, and I fell on the ice a few weeks ago too and broke a tooth.”

“Good Lord, Cathy, I’d change dentists.That’s way too much for that-”

“Well, um, that’s what he charged.” And it was quite obvious by her tone that she was LYING.

“If your co-pay was over $1000, why bother with dental insurance, which Nana said you have, right?”

“Um, well, can I talk to Maude? I don’t have much time before church.”

But she told Nana she doesn’t go to church, that she hasn’t found a minister that she really likes…

Aside from that, Cathy and her husband, Bobby, are always on the verge of starvation though Bobby has a decent job repairing bulldozers and such for a construction company.

However, one day last fall Cathy told Nana about having only $200 for groceries for an entire month. A week later, a round of violent thunderstorms took out electric service for 50,000 homes, including theirs. Too dumb to put their food in coolers or merely move a lot of it into the freezer, covered in ice, they allegedly lost everything after 36 hours. We lost power for two days once and only lost a couple frozen pizzas…After a lengthy call to Cathy after these storms last October, Nana said, “Oh, my God, I’m so worried about Cathy, I don’t know what to do.”

“Why is that, Nana?”

“She hasn’t eaten in two weeks. I have to send her some money.”

I almost laughed. “No, you don’t. She told you last week she’d spent $200 at Kroger, so she just voluntarily stopped eating PRIOR to the power outage? And if she hadn’t eaten in two weeks, she’d be dead or in the hospital.”

“Well, I don’t know about the dates, but they lost everything.”

“Nana, she just wants you to send her some money.”

“She’s never asked me for any money.”

“Yet, you sent her more than $2,000 last year.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I went through all your bank statements, remember? So, I could figure out how much Danny had stolen from you. I added up the checks to Cathy. I’ll be glad to show you-”

“Well, that may be, but they’re always hard up. Bobby doesn’t make that much money, and they don’t have a thing to eat until he gets paid next week.”

“And that’s their problem that would be solved if Cathy would get a job.”

“Oh, she can’t work.” And Nana says this with SUCH conviction!

“If she can spend for two hours making you peanut butter fudge like that batch she sent last month, and vacuum and mop and all that, cleaning her house top-to bottom like she’s always telling you. Then, she can work as a nurse again, or SOMETHING.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I don’t know what her doctors have told her.”

“It’s all bullshit, Nana. She just doesn’t wanna work. And you cannot afford to give ANYONE any money. Your Social Security check is only $875 a month, which barely covers your expenses, not to mention all those bills Danny never paid when he was managing your finances, like that $300 phone bill.”

Nana stopped asking to send Cathy money until my mother-in-law assumed the helm. Nana thought she could covertly send Cathy some cash for more food allegedly spoiled during a power outage from the thunderstorms 2-3 weeks ago in Ohio and West Virginia.

But Sarah is privy to the scourge of Cathy’s half truths and imaginary hardships. And Nana actually told Sarah that poor Cousin Cathy hadn’t eaten in MONTHS!  GOOD GOD almighty! I can’t believe that my Grandmother who was the Credit Manager for a HOSPITAL in the 80s – is actually believing this load of CA CA.

Thankfully, Nana doesn’t have any stamps, and there’s no way Sarah will mail anything to Cathy.  Nana will likely assume Cathy’s windfall was lost in the mail…

Does it make me EVIL to smile about the END of the cons, both Nana’s and Cathy’s? 🙂 At least for now.

Charlie said it best. “Your Grandmother didn’t learn a thing from her experience with Danny.”

SO, THERE YOU HAVE IT! Not only did Ms. Cranky pants lie about the allegedly lost $60, but she also lied about the need for cash.

I might bad mouth the old curmudgeon, but I ALWAYS pay her bills. I don’t con her into giving me money, and she eats like a Queen, no matter how much she HATES our healthy food with our brown rice and broiled fish and the occasional meal of STEAK and POTATOES… 🙂

TA for now!

Tenacious BITCH and…………………….                                                         her band of soothsaying bullshit QUASHERS!

* To read all about how delightful it is to cook for Nana, see post #66, BALONEY PORN or is it Bologna Porn, or Post #18 – The Oatmeal Incident… 🙂

#67 Cyber rant to my neighbor…

Posted in beer, nonfiction, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2012 by tenaciousbitch

Dear neighbor:

Yesterday, you were in your backyard. Yes, YOU, asshole, playing the shitty, mainstream radio station, which cranked out every single, lame-assed song ever written in the 70s and 80s. Such music that had, in fact, already been tossed about the airwaves to beyond ad nauseum during the aforementioned decades.

And said broadcast was so loud, not only could the tourists visiting the Great Wall of China hear this worthless rot, but the volume caused a fracture in said GREAT WALL. No, I’m not kidding, and btw, cyber chat has it that the Chinese government is quite peeved. That said, I would expect an unpleasant visit forthwith from a Chinese diplomat, bill in hand for the damage you caused …

AnyWHO, I just have a few questions, and I’ll try to be brief:

1)     Why in heaven’s name, would you want to listen to a station that played not 1 but 5 (yes, FIVE) Foreign Man songs over the course of 2 hours? And I thought COLD AS DICE was banned from public broadcasts after that woman in Montana shot herself upon hearing that very song for the 249th time (over a three day period) back in ’81 or 82? I understand that she took her pledge to listen to GOOD rock n roll or DIE quite seriously…hence, the term playing a song “to death” was coined? But, perhaps, I’m mistaken, and that landmark decision was reversed. Either way, WTF?

2)     Are you aware that spewing such atrocious so-called music can cause certain species of birds to migrate South at inappropriate times (i.e. in the summer) to escape this morbidly awful faux rock n roll, which can create a tsunami, particularly in and around the coast of South Carolina and Georgia? Need I mention what damage that could render to the tourist trade in those areas? Obviously, NO ONE in this era of rampant unemployment relishes the idea of turning Myrtle Beach and Hilton Head into ghost towns, n’est-ce pas?

3) Why would you be under the impression that all of we residents of Columbus, Ohio, want to hear your INANE cell phone conversation regarding your Dyson vacuum cleaner and its faulty shaft arm? Were you BORN stupid, or did you cultivate this level of non-intelligence on purpose? To what end?

And just in case you’re curious: I don’t give a FUCK about your broken wanna-be HOOVER, and I doubt the other 17-18 neighbors do either – you know, the other folks whose holiday you also ruined due to your thoughtless noise and jabber…

Therefore, I have a couple of suggestions for you:

The first is a one-word demand, and it’s a compound noun, so pay attention: HEADPHONES, my friend, HEADPHONES…

Secondly, next time, TAKE your stupid-assed 47-minute conversation about bla, bla, bla – INSIDE, or we shall mount a posse to smash your Smart Phone to smithereens, capiche?

And please note these comments/suggestions have been known to cause: aggravation, irritation, burning, itching, nose bleeds, liver failure, heart attacks, liver spots, psoriasis, measles and a strong desire to eat fruit cake. If you have any of these symptoms, please contact your doctor immediately.


Much obliged,

Yours in peace and love, your cranky-assed neighbor/bad influence/e-victor au extraordinaire and crazy outhouse rat, a.k.a. TENACIOUS BITCH and company…

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

© Kennedy Smith 2012