All I want for Christmas is..

Dear Santa,

God, it's me Margaret.

Hey Santa, it's me Courtney. It's been awhile hasn't it? I'm sorry I haven't written; I've been really busy. There has been a lot on my plate with the Election, the world ending, trying to date - when all I want to do is stay in bed and troll DT on twitter.. it's been a lot to process and deal with.

I can feel your eyes rolling.. Trust me Santa it's really stressful. Okay! Fine! I'll be honest. I have a really hard time writing to a fantasy fat man in the sky. There I said it! I don't think I believe in you. If there was a Santa, why on earth did you allow a narcissistic mad man gain control of the most powerful position in America? How the hell does that make sense Santa? What kind of Christmas miracle is that? Huh? Answer me Christopher T. Cringle!

I'm sorry. I haven't slept much and I haven't had whiskey in weeks. I'm all out of sorts. Forgive me? Let's start over, shall we?


Santa, I haven't asked for much. I hardly ever ask for anything, so please understand how important this is to me. I do have to say I have been pretty decent this year.. I haven't murdered anyone. And oddly I only got into a handful of political fights over social media. That's really good; my big ass mouth has a hard time not calling people out on their shit. You feel me, Santa. People be crazy! But I feel I utilized perfect restraint, a majority of the time.

I also took every hit this year with grace! I didn't have a mental breakdown when yet again I found myself on the other end of a break up phone call. I held it together when everything around me started to crash and crumble. I didn't go through an OCD meltdown when my date decided to lick my face. What the fuck was that all about Santa?? I know you saw it!! How can a girl recover from that? How can my face recover? She still wakes up in the middle of the night freaking out and I have to calm her down "It's not your fault Face! Men are gross and think licking you in public on the first date is socially acceptable." I don't think she will ever be the same..

I've kept a smile on my face during every single derogatory and objectifying conversation I've had with online dating suitors. I didn't punch any balls this year! That has to say something, doesn't it? I didn't say a word when my guy friends sent me messages about how disgusting men are and how sorry they are about men treating me like an object, all while in the same breath calling me "Sexy" and ending it with "We should go out sometime."

Basically what I'm trying to say Santa, I've been a good girl this year and I feel you owe me. I have taken a lot of hits and I think it's about damn time I get what I want! I don't want world peace, I know you're not a magician. It would be nice, but I feel my wishes... wait are these wishes? That feels too Arabian Nights rub my lamp to me. Prayers? Questions? Requests? Whatever I'm not good at this. Where was I? Oh yeah! I don't think my requests can really be of the world peace nature. That's a lot of pressure and I'm not ready for all that commitment.

That being said Santa; I would really like a long soak in a tub, a plate of Mexican food, and a puppy to cuddle.
If you want to throw a dude who loves and respects me in the mix.. I won't be mad.


Thanks Santa! You're a peach! Stay safe out there... it's fucking nuts!


Always,

Courtney
xoxo

My First Encounter..

You haunt me. I can't seem to get you out of my mind. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about you, crave you. I often think about the first day we met. Do you remember?

It was a warm summer evening; a nearby fan gently kissed my ears with its soft hum. I pulled my hair out of its tousled bun and bit my lip out of curiosity. Will I meet you tonight? A quivering giggle escaped my lips. Tonight is the night.

I took my time getting ready. I didn't want to rush,  I slowly brushed my hand across my hanging clothes in wonder. What would you want to see me in? What would make this real? I chose a forest green form fitting shirt with my favorite skinny jeans. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I could feel you. I know you are near. I gently sprayed my perfume on my neck. The smell of fresh anticipation filled the room, I'm ready. Leaning into a mirror to apply a rose tinted gloss; my senses are overwhelmed by cherry, sweet decadent cherry. The vibrating pulse of my phone sends chills down my spine. It's time.

I rush to the door, and before I leave I stop and look at the living room. My life will forever change tonight. I studied the paintings on the wall and how haphazardly a crocheted blanket hung over a love seat. My eyes skimmed the coffee table; they were met by a neatly set candle and photo book. Can I have you there? My eyes begin to widen and burn with desire, the grin on my face is unrecognizable and the knots in my stomach began to twist. I need you.

The air felt warm and delicious on my skin as I rolled down the window of my car. I've never felt so alive, driving through the hustle and bustle of the city streets, with my hand gently waving through the breeze. The sounds of sultry percussion flood my ears, the aggressive beats of the drum, feels animalistic. I'm energized.

The sights and sounds seem so familiar, I'm getting close. My heart starts to take on the animalistic drumming and a blanket of heat rushes over my body. I can see you. I park my car and fumble as I take the keys out of the ignition. One last look in the mirror. "You can do this"

I open the door, I'm greeted by a jingle of bells as the door shuts behind me. I nervously clench my hands together, the beads of sweat caress my skin, I may come undone with excitement. The cool metal chair chills my skin as I sit, all while my senses are dancing with the sensual smells. And then it happened.

"Are you Courtney?" he said. I sheepishly looked up at him and said "Hi, yes I'm Courtney." He smiled an approving smile. My heart jumped. This is happening, it's all I ever wanted and it's happening right now!

"Okay, 5 rolled tacos with extra sour cream? Did you want a soda?" he asked while preparing my order.
 Trying to muffle my excitement I said "No, just the tacos, thank you."

I needed you, I couldn't wait to get home. I had to have you right then and there. I devoured you one by one in the Roberto's Taco Shop parking lot. Napkins were not necessary, I didn't want to stop. The taste of fried tortilla and cheese consumed me. You are a god. I love you 5 rolled tacos. I love you endlessly. You make me a better woman, I love who I am when I'm with you.

I forever miss you.

Breaking up is hard to do

Dear Donald Trump,

       Wow, how did we get here? It's been an interesting year hasn't it? We have learned so much about each other. Actually you don't know shit about me.. it's just been you, you, you this entire time. But I digress.. I am at a stage in my life where I'm looking seriously and systematically for someone I can share my life with. You seem like a nice person to 35-45% of Americans, but I just don't see it. Or get it. I know this letter might come to you as a shock, because what woman on earth would want to break up with You, The Donald, The Trump! The Pussy Grabber!? I know, I'm a silly silly woman. I just can't do this anymore DT, can I call you that? Is that okay? I want you to be very happy. It's very important to me.

       We are just on different paths. I want equal pay and the freedom to make decisions concerning my own body. You want to cheat people out of hard earned money and you also like to grab pussies. Like a lot. What's with that DT? Do you think your money and status has power over vaginas? Do you think a woman's genitalia will automatically recognize your tiny hands and be okay with a good ol' fake billionaire gropage? Sadly, my love, that is not the case. I know you don't believe me, but you have to trust me on this one. Oh and darling, you're not much of a looker yourself. Every time I hear your voice or see your glowing orange face I get chills.. chills of the nausea nature. I want to puke, I want to puke my brains out. You're gross. Ridiculously gross, and did you ever learn how to blow your nose? Seriously the sniffing has to stop! How can I trust a man who can't blow his nose? This is serious Donald.. believe me.

       I'm choosing to walk away from this relationship with my head held high. You have done nothing for me emotionally, physically, or sexually. Financially all you have offered was to make you and your "good friends" (we know they don't exist.. we know.) richer. I know you made a huuuge donation to your own lawyers. That doesn't count, nope, not even a little bit. Have you noticed that all of your buddies are dropping like flies? No one wants to be around you, and not because you are inventive and a genius force to be reckoned with. People can't stand you because you are an uneducated racist who uses and abuses women and threatens war like it's a conversation at brunch. And nobody fucks with brunch.. Nobody!


      We've had some good times though. Remember when you said all Mexicans were rapists? We laughed and laughed because you were just deflecting your own self onto another race. Remember honey? You're the rapist. Oh and I will never forget when you called Alicia Machado 'Miss Piggy' and continued to embarrass her for gaining weight. Sugar-pie Honey-bunch you are fat as fuck. Most doctors in America would categorize you as being obese. You do not have room (in your pants) to talk. That reminds me my love, you keep blaming your words of sexual assault on women as "Locker room talk" Now we all know you have never been in a locker room.. your Jabba the Hutt physique says otherwise. Unless you were talking about the locker room with the naked TEEN beauty queens you barged in on regularly, because you can. If that's what you were talking about, then I apologize.. you have definitely been in a locker room.


      It's not you.. it's you. I cannot continue this union anymore and I hope you can respect that. I expect to be publicly embarrassed and my looks will be the reason of our ultimate demise. "I mean look at her.." That's just you, it's who you are. I would hope you can take this time to reflect and really understand my words.. maybe do some yoga? Maybe even a pottery class will help you understand what a complete douchebag you are. I hope you find your center Donald. I really do.


Kisses,

Courtney Marie

     

"Everything is fine.. thanks!"

 Hashtag Adulting.


You know the feeling, when you are trying on a pair of skinny jeans in a Forever 21 dressing room? You somehow, by the grace of god, get them all the way on without pulling a muscle. Your Michigan (muffin top) is bursting at the seams and you are losing circulation in your thighs. You say "These will do" as you look how amazing your ass looks squeezed into sweatshop made material. You start to take off the toddler sized jeans, while a heat of panic flows over your body. You can't get them off! They are holding your thighs hostage and never letting go. I don't even think Liam Neeson and his particular set of skills can help you now. Shit! What do I do? I can't waddle out to the 18 year old dressing room attendant and ask her for help. What is she going to do? Snapchat my misfortune and thank god she has a thigh gap? I'm crying at this point, thankfully Justin Bieber's "Sorry" is blasting so the nearby tweens can't hear my sobs. Sobs of desperation and sobs of "What the fuck am I doing here?" You are 30 years old Courtney! What are you trying to prove? At this point you are starting to sweat and every movement you make, like a boa constrictor, the jeans are getting tighter and tighter.

--Knock Knock-- "How's everything going in there?"
Maybe if I hold my breath, she'll go away! "Everything is fine.. thanks."

Is this how I'm going to die? Will my life end here? In this super loud, gum on the wall, terrible lighting, cell of a dressing room? "Courtney lost her life today while fighting a metaphorical pair of jeans in a local shopping mall, she didn't die in vain though.. her ass did look banging."

I say NAY! This is not how it ends! Not today! Not on Rex Manning day! No one in the store understood that reference.. because they are children.
I did what any self respecting woman would do. I pulled the Satan's mistress's pants up, ripped off the tag, and paid for them. I walked out of the store with absolute confidence and loss of oxygen. Pulled the life ruining jeans down to my thighs as I got into the car.. Super happy I chose to wear sassy black panties.. as opposed to period granny ones. Ya know, just in case I get pulled over by a hot cop.. and he falls in love with me and puts the siren on at our wedding. I finally made it to the privacy of my own home and I cut those fuckers off. Never again will I forget who I am.

Never again.

I'll 'Oh Canada' all over your face..

I got kicked out.

Have you ever been kicked out of something? You know that awful feeling of "Wait... what did I do??" as your ass is being metaphorically or physically pushed out of a door, elevator, revolving door, garage door, barn door... basically any entry way. I recently had the pleasure of getting kicked out. Now, I am no stranger to the kicking outage process.. I've been the kicker outer as well as the kickey outey. I just made that up.. I like it. My prior experiences have nothing on my recent banishment. Trust me, I've been kicked out of bars.. twice. Kicked out of stores, kicked out of hearts, kicked out of houses, kicked out of Super Spy clubs.. Yeah Jessica I'm still holding on to that one! We were 8 and I'm sorry my brilliant ideas were too advance for your tiny brain. I was the best Super Spy and you know it! Bitch.

All of those are child's play compared to what happened to me just two months ago. Let's go back shall we? I was living in Seattle, about to embark on an epic adventure. My life is forever changing and I was about to take an awesome step and move to another country. I have lived in other states, countries and visited places that most people my age have never witnessed, so this move was just another part of my ever evolving life. Seriously guys, I've seen some shit! Like actual shit.. I lived in Downtown LA.

I decided to pack up all of my belongings, toss them in my car and begin a cross country trip, with my boyfriend. Oh yeah, I was moving to this country to start a new life and also live closer to my boyfriend. Ya know.. have my happy ending/beginning. Such a silly silly girl.

The drive was great! I had an amazing time! I saw parts of this country that I never thought I would see. Cows. So many cows!! I think I will comfortably go through life without ever seeing a cow again. Oh and corn!! Corn for days! We definitely drove through some Children of the Corn nonsense and I may or may not have pissed my pants every time I saw a scarecrow. We drove through 12 states.. maybe it was 13? I lost count. Soooo many fucking cows! We were getting closer and closer to my new life. I was so excited! I had the love of my life on my left and cows on my right. Bliss. We reached the border. I've never driven to a border before. Tijuana doesn't count, it's just a continuation of California, but with guns, tequila induced decisions, and donkey shows.

The plan was just to drive on through and start our life together. Sounds so romantic right? As we were arriving to the guard station.. I began to sweat and freak out. I felt like I had to puke and take a major deuce all at the same time. I don't know why I was so scared.. it wasn't like I was smuggling heroin or midget strippers.. again. I just had a couple suitcases and a bag of jerky, teriyaki jerky to be exact. That shit is so good. I'm telling you there is something about tearing apart dried dead animal with your teeth.. that just makes you feel alive! Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yes, I was asked to get out of the car and speak with an immigration border control representative.. or major bitch for short. I walked in with confidence and extremely proud of successfully hiding the ungodly amount of boob sweat under my shirt. Seriously, my boob sweat could run an entire irrigation system with no problems what so ever. Buckets! 

I answered every question Mrs. umm,. I don't remember her name. We will call her Cuntasaurus Rex. I answered every question Cuntasaurus Rex asked me with prowess and grace. I was very polite and looked her in the eye... I feared she might eat me. She looked hungry. She looked me over and not in the lesbian thirsty way, but in the "I'm going to ruin your life today" way.

She asked me if I have ever been arrested. I immediately said no, because I'm perfect and have never made a mistake..well maybe 7 years ago. Wrong answer. She continued to tell me I was not allowed into the country and that I in fact have never been allowed into the country...including the 6 times I have been previously. My vision blurred and I could only see a blob of skin where Cuntasaurus Rex sat. Is this happening? She was talking and all I could hear was Charlie Browns mom.. whomp whomp whomp. She explained that she would not allow me into the country because I lack in substance and would not add anything to her country. What?? Have you met me? I'm full of substance! I reek of substance.. abuse.. alcohol. Wait! No! I didn't mean that! It was a joke.. ha? See I'm funny! And fucking adorable!? No?

I got kicked out. I got kicked out of Canada.. you know the nicest country on earth? The one with maple syrup and monopoly money? The one where everyone says sorry, eh, and buddy? The one with FREE healthcare?!! The one with a Prime Minister who is sexy as all hell.. Yeah, Justin Trudeau, I'm talking about you, you're beautiful. I'll 'Oh Canada' all over your face. I love you.

Am I proud of getting the boot from Canada? No, not really. Does it make me a bit of a badass? Yup! Sure does! Thank you Canada! Me and my badass-ness will go elsewhere!


 QnA:

"Were you really arrested?" 
I don't know what you're talking aboot. (See what I did there? They are fools to have not let me in.. Fools!!)

"What happened between you and your boyfriend?"
Well just like Canada he didn't want my awesome substance either.

"Would you ever go back to Canada?"
Maybe, only if sexy Trudeau hits me up. I'm following him on Insta.. we are soulmates.. sexually. 

I'm going to hell

Do you ever sit back and analyze your life and past? I'm currently going through a pretty tough time and I'm trying to make sense of it all. What could I have done? What should I have done better? Why did all these bad things happen? What did I do wrong? I've done a lot of thinking and the only solution I have come up with is..

Chain letters.

I have never passed a chain letter on.. especially the ones that say "If you ignore this your life will suck.. big time!." Shit. I knew deep down in my heart I should have "liked" and "tagged" 10 people. But No! I had to be too cool and break the chain! Uggh what was I thinking? How does one rectify this? Don't get me started on the "If you have a soul.. like, share, and comment Amen" I didn't post Amen!!! Am I going to die?? Guys.. this is serious! Did Jesus (Hey-Zeus) notice I didn't comment Amen? Is he plotting my death as we speak? I also haven't posted photos of sunsets with really profound quotes or pictures of Marilyn Monroe explaining "If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best.. yadda yadda" Am I going to make it?? Do I have to prepare my parents for my social media induced death?

I'm deleting my search history as we speak.. and that personal massager in my underwear drawer was for my neck...

Ok, social media Jesus, what do I need to do to stay on this earth for a little bit longer? I know I have failed these past 10 years with internet chains and never filling out online quizzes. What can I do to make up for it?

Farmville.

Fuck no! Sorry guys.. it was fun while it lasted. And again parents.. it was used for my neck.. I have a really stiff.. neck.

Feed Me Seymour!

Don't cry. Don't cry. Damnit Courtney Don't cry!

I'm standing in line at a local Qdoba. The teenager worker just asked me "That's it? That's all you want?"

Wait a second? I came here because I was hungry, this is where burrito dreams come true and now all of a sudden I feel like I need to question every life choice I have ever made. Is it.. all that I want? Do I want more? Do I need more? I could just be fine and settle for the queso and chips.. but do I really just want the guacamole? Do I switch it up and add some salsa? What about just saying "fuck it" and forget the burrito all together and get a taco? Who the fuck is this kid? Are you some kind of burrito therapist? Did you have to go to school for this? Did they teach you to completely break down someone's psyche while you wrap a tasty mexican delicacy?

I stared at this wizard of a child from across the sneeze guard plexiglass in pure wonderment. I could feel the impatient chubs McMidwestern woman huffing and puffing behind me. "Bitch, This is my session! Wait your turn!" I locked eyes with the burrito guru and asked "So when you say 'That's all you want?' are you implying I in fact deserve more?" He stared at me completely confused. "I get it.. you want me to talk.. ok so.."

I'm starting to lose all trust in men. I don't have Daddy issues, so I'm very unsure why I'm surrounded by well.. for lack of a better word.. Dicks! I would totally be a lesbian.. if I wasn't so afraid of vaginas and lack of silence. I know.. how can a female be afraid of an organ that she has? You honestly have no idea what a vagina can do! I automatically think of the plant from "Little Shop of Horrors" "FEEEEEEEED ME!!!!!" That scares the shit out of me.. man. But I digress..

How does one live happily ever after in 2016? Everyone wants the next best thing, an upgrade, or just a better model. Nobody wants to work anymore. If challenges arise, they just leave and go find an easier solution. It's very easy to forget about love and all the life plans you made together.. with just one click of a block button on social media. Out of sight out of mind. And how fake is social media? I can only speak from experience but while I was completely miserable and depressed in Michigan, I posted beautiful, lovey dovey photos of the perfect life I led.. with a man who treated me like I was worthless and invisible every single day. He later cheated on me, just to add salt to my wounds. But to the social media world.. I was happy.

"What do you get from all of this Burrito Buddha? I definitely do deserve more.. right?"

"Umm, Do you want extra cheese for just 25 cents more?"

You get me.. you really do.