Untouchable…..

The Hippy Chic

I wrote this blog quite some time ago, when the world as I knew it was rocked to its very foundation. I was on my own, but never, ever alone. The fact is that I could feel Jesus presence, and it was because I asked Him to carry me through a very, very dark four years.

I want you to know it’s going to be okay. It really is. The QAnon plan has been in effect since the death of JFK. The Alliance has won, God has returned to us.

It is my prayer that you know I am here for you.

I promised myself I would avoid this subject, but it is such a part of who I am and I can not help people if I don’t share my story. I have become so resilient, so strong…yet at times? I can only crawl into the fetal position and…

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Go Back Home!

I don’t go after them, I swear on everything Holy and Pure.

My brother used to call me an “idiot magnet,” and I have to say-not much has changed over the years. Fact is? From the mildly psychotic to the criminally insane-I draw them like flies to honey.

Jesus. Mary. And Joseph and ALL OF THE LATTER DAY SAINTS!

Simply going to the grocery store causes battle fatigue, but I can tell you one thing sister-if you think I’m going to let you walk allover me in any form or fashion? I will take you down. I have a zero tolerance for hogwashery of any kind-and, I will cut a bitch.

I’m not having it.

So, my poor husband and I go to the local supermarket today-always guaranteed to ensure my blood pressure trips the light fantastic within five minutes of entering the effing store.

I’m a woman on the edge right now. I cry when I see children wearing masks, I know way too much and my tolerance is at ground zero. Sadly, my husband was with me when all hell broke loose.

Poor Dwain.

The young girl behind the deli counter couldn’t breathe beyond her mask. I know this because I asked if she could.

“Why are you all wearing masks?”

She goes on to tell me it’s the law, that they’re food service workers-even though every fucking employee had one on and so did most of the customers.

Suddenly, and beyond my control, I spit-

I’ll tell you WHY! Because Governor Wolf is a FUCKING MURDERER!!!

My husband turned as red as a beet. He didn’t understand, but listened as I explained my case-that I was not angry with her, that I was concerned for her. I made her promise to do her research about the dangers of mask wearing (slow death) and the reasoning behind the trigger.

I chased my husband down, just in time to see Karen coming around the corner. My husband had the unmitigated gall of bumping Karen’s cart. The mask wearing kindergartner was approximately 30 years old. I am 59. Karen weighed a good two fifty. I’m 5’1″ and half of her size.

I snapped.

Not so much underneath my breath I told Dwain that Karen was angry because we weren’t wearing masks.

THAT IS NOT!!!!!!! WHY I’M ANGRY!!!!! YOUR HUSBAND BUMPED INTO MY CART!!!!”

Oh, my thought cloud read, ‘it’s on bitch.’

I got in her face, but backed off immediately.

She screamed, I screamed louder. She calls for management for five minutes. I tell her to call the fucking cops for all I care-and then follow her to the courtesy desk.

“This customer is bothering me,” Karen wails.

She doesn’t know I’m behind her, making faces at the cashier.

Karen is told to calm down and walk away.

And as we pull out of the parking lot?

Karen is being escorted to her car by three, count ’em, three supermarket personnel.