Daily Archives: June 15, 2015

Cosmic Alignment= Contentment

I can’t explain it but I am soo not arguing with it. It’s been a CONTENT day. My kid’s been tuned down to four (Thank you, Neopets, for babysitting when it’s raining outside), there’s been little noise outside, I’ve felt fairly serene. The cramps have lessened, I’m not feeling venomous. I am actually looking forward to simply going to bed in awhile after Spook’s asleep.

What’s different?

Hormone levels. Medication levels. Bipolar cycle. Anxiety level. Everything has to align fluidly.

This is not to say I am happy or less numb or even feeling inspired to do anything. But it’s contentment and that’s golden, for as long as it lasts.

SEE. I CAN SAY SOMETHING POSITIVE, if anything positive happens.

If every day were like this from a mind state, I’d be the happiest fucking person alive.

The Square Peg Round Hole Personality Disorder

One of my biggest issues with the mental health profession is the way it takes this “one size MUST fit all” mentality. Any quirk in how one looks, thinks, feels, or what you want, if at odds with the statistics of what’s “normal”, it is a personality disorder. Your dad walked out on you as a kid so you fear abandonment and can’t forge relationships well? Borderline. You like to wear clothes that aren’t sold at The Gap in neutrals like black, you’re anti social. If you love to read vampire books and horoscopes, that’s magical thinking thus you are schizotypal.If you were bullied for years in school and are paranoid and distrustful…paranoid personality disorder.

I miss the good old days when it was called being an individual.

It seems like every quality I have to my personality, especially the ones I like that are eclectic and off beat, are the very things earning me all these “personality disorder” labels. Never mind my history. Never mind the example set by my parents. Never mind I was bullied in school, my parents hated each other, I spent my childhood raising my sister while they worked…Nope. I don’t fit the green festering mold of normalcy so the problem is me, not that society is intolerant of anyone who is different. It doesn’t matter to the professionals that I was improperly diagnosed and medicated for over ten years, which means all those years were spent making me worse instead of allowing me to work on getting  better. I’m a malingerer. Forget the interaction that nearly killed me. That’s not a factor at all.

You know what the factors are that make my personality “disordered”?

*** I like to spend time alone. Like, lots of time. Because all my hobbies are solitary and I don’t need an audience to come watch me read a book.

*** I have always liked to “dress outside the norm” which means wearing what I like as opposed to what is the local trend.

*** I enjoy reading and writing vampire stories and think it would be awesome if they were real, I’d become on in a heartbeat.

*** Even when stable and not panicked, I still don’t like going out to crowded places like malls and bars. It’s not my thing.

*** I am bored easily, like my alone time, and in every relationship, find myself crawling out of my skin with the need to break out, as if imprisoned. Relationships don’t give me the space I need to be who I am and somehow, this is my fault and some dysfunction.

*** I do not desire the picket fence fairytale. I abhor the concept of marriage and commitment and stagnating in some socially acceptable concept of what should be my norm and make me happy. I’m not anti social. It’s not that I don’t want love and companionship. I just don’t want it on conventional terms and that’s fine by me.

*** I am actually cheered up by all the things the professionals say is manifestation of my illnesses and disorders- loud aggressive music, Halloween decor, coffins, the color black, horror movies, crime documentaries, forensic books, sarcastic humor even. WTF? If it makes me happy, how is it a disorder? Unless they’re saying being happy is the disorder, which I’d buy. Happy is a fallacy.

*** That I have no desire to fit into some mold even if it means I am isolated and ostracized.

*** That I am paranoid and find it hard to trust people. With my formative years of being bullied to the point of suicide…I think it makes perfect sense. And every time I push myself to venture out and trust someone ago, time after time, I am proven right to be wary.

*** Moodiness. Yeah, in spite of the bipolar, the definition of which is MOOD SWINGS, being moody is a disorder itself. If your brain is constantly jerking you around sending incorrect info, you’d be moody too, ffs.

Now that’s just a smattering of what the professionals have force fed me over the years. And I honestly think most of it is shit. The sunshine spewing counselor may have been onto something when she said I see things in black and white, no shades of gray, and that I can’t regulate my emotions. BUT again, bipolar tends to taint these things from the get go, so exactly how do I regulate and differentiate until my chemicals cooperate? To imply it’s simply a skill I don’t have is asinine. I’ll admit my ignorance on most things easily. But my perception is so often askew, I can barely handle the here and now, let alone look back and reflect and work on my “issues.”

And my issues that concern me aren’t even a blip on their radar. They’re too busy focusing on all my traits that don’t fit this cluster or that cluster, yet MUST be the cause of dysfunction. If I just wore bright colors, listened to shit like R.E.M and watched rom-coms, I’d be just ducky.

Fact is, all my life, I have been the square peg and they keep trying to push me into a round hole. Rather than admit it doesn’t work, I am expected to drop everything and change to accommodate them. I think it’s rubbish. I think all their therapy and terms and disorders and clusters and the fact none of them can agree on a damn thing has done more damage to me than bipolar ever could. I was fine with myself before all the counseling. I LIKED me. But to go in and be told weekly for twenty years about your every fault…It takes a toll. Now I question myself at every turn. I know when I am right and I still doubt myself because it could be some personality disorder trait keeping me from seeing myself for what I am.

It’s exhausting. This is supposed to help me, but aside from the first few years…I’ve gotten nothing out of counseling in a very long time. Just more baggage and neuroses and feeling shitty for being who I am. Truth is, more people could stand to get real and be who they really are and quit worrying about how this Facebook friend will drop them if they buy that shirt that’s no in fashion, or that Yololoser on Twitter will start a flame war about them admitting they like music that’s not top 40. GROW UP.

Being who you are is likely to get you labeled as having a disorder. Being who you’re not will do the same. Being who everyone else is, you’re creating what constitutes a disorder. Honestly, how is my wearing black and liking Jason Vorhees impacting anyone’s life? It enhances my comfort. I hurt no one. Where’s the disorder, except in other people’s inability to embrace what’s unique about each and every one of us who stray outside the “sheeple” herd.

I often wonder if  I were to remove my social filters and tell others what I think of their bland or obnoxiously bright wardrobe and their lame ass taste in chick flicks or comic books or the fact they drink beer which is disgusting to me so I find them disgusting…How would the sheeple like such judgment? To be called disordered based on things that make them feel good.

I have a personality disorder. It’s called Square Peg In A Round Hole Disorder.

It’s way less benign than the metastatic worldwide personality disorder of, “I don’t have the balls to be who I really am so I’m just going to go with the flow and not stand out or rock the boat.”

If not wanting to be one of the sheeple makes me weird…Weird is crazy sexy beautiful. Fuck normal. It’s a cure for insomnia.


Noninvasive brain stimulator may ease parkinson’s symptoms in a patient’s homeParkinson’s disease

Master’s students have developed a new portable device to inhibit neuronal firing in critical regions of the brains of people with Parkinson’s disease to stop the tremors associated with that disease. This device is a helmet, which the patient can control, it sends electrical stimulation to the patient’s brain, however the level and duration of the stimulation is controlled by a physician.

The wonderful part about this is that it is portable and under the patient’s control. My father in law had Parkinson’s disease, he was a solid, strong, silent man, and this disease brought him down like tissue paper fluttering from the sky. I’m sure at least some of his symptoms and problems would have been alleviated by this portable helmet!

Article and reference below.


Parkinson’s disease patients whose symptoms such as tremor, muscle stiffness and slowed movement make it tough to hold an eating utensil steady have few options for relief outside of a hospital or clinic. Medication can help, but over time it tends to become less effective. To give these patients another in-home option, Johns Hopkins graduate students have invented a headband-shaped device to deliver noninvasive brain stimulation to help tamp down the symptoms.

The students’ prototype, developed during a yearlong biomedical engineering master’s degree program, has not yet been tested on humans, but it is viewed as a promising first step toward helping Parkinson’s patients safely relieve their own symptoms at home or elsewhere without going to a hospital or doctor’s office. The design has already received recognition at several prominent competitions. On June 9, it won the $5,000 second-place prize in VentureWell’s BMEidea national design contest for biomedical and bioengineering students. In May, the invention earned first-place honors in the People’s Choice Award competition at Johns Hopkins’ Biomedical Engineering Design Day 2015. Earlier, it was a finalist in the Rice University Business Plan Competition.

The five student team members were inspired to build the new device last summer after observing neurosurgery being performed on Parkinson’s patients at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Parkinson’s is an incurable neurodegenerative disorder that affects 1 million people in the United States and 7 million worldwide.

Tremtex team members
From left, the Tremtex team members are Ian Graham, Melody Tan, Erin Reisfeld, Shruthi Rajan and David Blumenstyk. Credit: Will Kirk, Johns Hopkins University

For patients in advanced stages, one treatment option is deep brain stimulation. In this procedure, a surgeon implants thin electrical leads into the region of the brain that controls movement. The leads are connected to a pulse generator—similar to a pacemaker for the heart—that is placed under the skin below the collarbone. This implant sends electrical signals to the brain to help curb some symptoms caused by Parkinson’s.

“We saw that this procedure is really invasive and can take 10 to 15 hours to complete,” said Shruthi Rajan, a team member from Charlotte, North Carolina. “It’s also very expensive, and not all patients qualify for the surgery. We asked if there was a way to provide the same treatment in a less invasive way that doesn’t require brain surgery.”

The students were referred to Yousef Salimpour, a Johns Hopkins Medicine postdoctoral research associate who has been studying a noninvasive Parkinson’s therapy called transcranial direct current stimulation. In this painless treatment, low-level current is passed through two electrodes placed over the head to tweak the electrical activity in specific areas of the brain. The technique can be used to excite or inhibit these nerve cells. The treatment is still considered experimental, but it has attracted much attention because it does not require surgery and is inexpensive, safe and relatively easy to administer without any side effects.

The biomedical engineering students met with Salimpour to learn about the research he conducts in a clinical setting. “We told him we had an idea for a portable home version of this equipment,” Rajan said. “But we planned to add safety measures to make sure the patient used it properly without a doctor or nurse being present.”

The students aimed for a prototype that would enable a patient to activate the battery-powered treatment by touching a large easy-to-press button. With patient safety in mind, the students designed their prototype to deliver current for only 20 minutes daily and only at a doctor-prescribed level.

To help fine-tune their design, the students met with dozens of Parkinson’s patients over a four-month period. Although the students did not administer the actual brain treatment, the patients help them craft the critical headband component so that it would be easy to put on, comfortable to wear and positioned so that the electrodes would remain stable and properly target the motor cortices areas of the brain.

“For a comfortable fit, we put an elastic band in the back and told the patients to put it on like a baseball cap,” said team member Ian Graham, from Old Saybrook, Conn. “The interaction with the patients was really helpful. In our usual college classes, we’re just given a textbook problem to solve. In this program, being able to find a real-life biomedical problem and figure out how to address it was huge. And we even received letters of encouragement from some of the patients we met.”

The other members of the student design team were David Blumenstyk, Erin Reisfeld and Melody Tan.

In addition to the assistance from neuroengineer Salimpour, the student inventors received guidance from other members of an interdisciplinary team of Johns Hopkins medical researchers that includes neurologist Zoltan Mari, neurosurgeon William Anderson and neuroscientist Reza Shadmehr.

“Our group is working on the idea of using noninvasive brain stimulation for Parkinson’s disease symptom control as a new clinical treatment,” Salimpour said. “Our preliminary results were promising. Patients keep asking us for more of this treatment. But we couldn’t provide the treatment for them because there is no portable and FDA-approved device like this for Parkinson’s patients that is on the market at this time. The biomedical engineering students then approached us with the idea of designing the home-based treatment device. They did a great job, and made a fascinating prototype. We hope that based on their preliminary work, Parkinson’s patients will receive the benefit of this new technique at home very soon.”

With help from the Johns Hopkins Technology Ventures staff, the student inventors obtained provisional patents covering the design of the device, dubbed the STIMband. Another Johns Hopkins student team is slated to take over the project in September to further enhance the design and move it closer to patient availability. One addition may be a wireless connection to allow a doctor to adjust a home patient’s treatment level from a remote location.

– See more at: http://www.neuroscientistnews.com/clinical-updates/noninvasive-brain-stimulator-may-ease-parkinson-s-symptoms-patient-s-home#sthash.1LZh448E.dpuf


That is how I feeling today. Plagued by cramps and wonky hormones and backaches and just all around feeling fragile. Plagued by the medication conundrum. Plagued by all this borderline personality bullshit. Plagued by being labeled with a disorder simply because I don’t fit some societal norm and don’t even want to because I’m fine with who I am, the world is the one with the problem.  PLAGUED.

Throw in a hypomanic jaunt from taking all my meds at once, as the doctor instructed, I am feeling rather clusterfucked with swirling thoughts and utter confusion. While it is certainly easier to take them all at once, I think the anti depressant jolt is too much and should be taken in two doses throughout the day. But can’t have patients dictating what is best for them, that’s combative and failing to cooperate.

I know in the grips of hormonal flux I’m not really operating on all 8 cylinders so taking anything I feel right now too seriously would be unwise. Yet I feel it, even through all the gauze because the anger still manages to get through. It’s not the white hot anger that fuels me to keep fighting, more confused indignation and annoyance,but it’s something to feel. Unfortunately, when I am like this, it’s all going to come out in machine gun fire text that will be all over the place and barely make sense. I should just draft this and come back later but…That’s not me. I need to vent. Must. Vent.

Maybe some banal drivel to distract myself from my hormonal “stuck on one subject in my head” thing. I think that topic needs its own post and some research and logical mind set. (Borderline Bash, coming soon to this blog.)

It’s humid as hell already. I could barely peel myself out of bed this morning even with the spawn yipping and galloping. It wasn’t laziness so much as everything ached due to the pms-dysphoria thing. R called last night asking me to look for something on Ebay since his wife left to go back to work and his desktop computer crashed and he spilled beer on that laptop he basically gave me and took back…It’s like, fuck, I knew he was talking to me because she was going to be gone and he’d be bored.  Not pessimism, just fact.

Sure enough, he said, “I’ll grab you some Mangoritas and come over, see what you find on Ebay.” And perhaps too quickly and snappishly I said, “NO, I don’t need Mangoritas.” When in fact, they probably would have done wonders for the cramps. But I was hurting and feeling so volatile, I really didn’t want him near me. He’s not a sensitive or compassionate person and me being hormonal would have just started some sort of fight no matter how lightly I tread. Not to mention by 9pm he’s usually four tall boys into his beer and that makes him more flippant and argumentative. Nope. Does not want. I think turning down the Mangoritas and company offended him a bit but zero fucks were given. I knew he’d pull this shit. I am little more than something to keep him from having to be by himself and be bored.Sorry, but it’s not my idea of friendship.  Idget.

It cooled off enough last night that I only needed one fan. I figured after stifling humidity making it hard to breathe all day and my kid being in a combative tantrum throwing state, I’d go right to sleep. It didn’t happen. Then when I was asleep, I had dreams and kept waking up. When awake, the cramps and backache had me doubled over. I tried the pill to lessen cramps and regulate and all that, but it gave me blood clots so that went away. Once a month, every month, I get ten days of suffering, and only three are the actual curse. The rest is just pms and dysphoria. No sooner than I get level, bam, cycle starts again.

Toss in the bipolar and it’s a miracle I’m not stark raving mad.

Wow, I hate this post already. But it’s hard to write clearly when your mind is racing and your kid is smacking her lips loudly and whining that her friend punched her again.

I’m on a Grey’s Anatomy kick now. Back to the early seasons. The episode I watched this morning involved a train wreck and this man and woman were impaled together on a pole. And through it all, this woman kept smiling and cracking jokes and making the best of things. Even when they told her she was likely going to die, she smiled through her tears.

Yes, I know it’s fiction. Yet, I couldn’t help thinking…WHY CAN’T I BE HER? I want to joke and snark and smile my way through it all. And to hear the masses tell it, it’s just a matter of choice.

Except, when it’s not. To reference Grey’s again…When Yang had the ectopic pregnancy, it barely registered at first. If you’re not familiar with this character, suffice it to say she is an ambitious robot workaholic with no time for girly things. So when you see her finally start crying and sobbing to the point she begs to be sedated…It’s not choice or personality sometimes. The human body does its thing. Hormones do their things. Brain chemicals do their thing.

It’s not always a choice.

I reiterate, I know the difference between real and fiction. I also know something is well written and acted if it strikes a chord with me. Especially being Numbo and all.

Now…I hate this post. I hate pms and shark week and humidity and being so uncomfortable and feeling so weak and…

I really hate when the humidity is so high cat hair sticks to my moist skin. I feel like a fucking Yeti.

Horrormonally yours



Escapism – How the Y&R Helps my Bipolar Disorder


Life happens. There’s a lot that goes on. Good things like family, children, marriage, and friends; and not-so-good things like financial problems, work pressures, health issues and mental illness—any of these factors can cause stress in your life. Stress is a major factor in bringing about a bipolar episode—either mania or depression. So reducing stress for someone with bipolar is not only a good thing but a crucial thing.

When someone has bipolar, life can be overwhelming. There’s too much going on, or not enough. Everything is too loud, but you can’t hear a thing. The up and down of the mood cycle is exhausting. So, too, is putting on a face—wearing an emotional mask of sorts to hide true feelings. The fatigue and stress demand relief. I escape.

Everyone has different methods of escape. Escapism sometimes has a negative connotation. That is the case with some means, like drugs, alcohol, gambling, over-eating, etc. Even a positive means of escape can have negative results if you do it to excess. Like many things in life, escapism should be practised in moderation. For example, for some people surfing on the internet is not only enjoyable, but it allows you to get sucked in, to the point where you can spend your entire day surfing away. If this happened regularly it would obviously cause problems in your life.

The escapism I’m talking about is positive. It helps people. It helps people escape from their daily life and move to a place of mental stability. Your escape won’t make all your problems go away. But it will give you a break from reality—a break from the exhaustion and stress.

Escapism is a coping mechanism—something I can add to my arsenal of self-care. It is not something I do for long—maybe an hour a day, some days just moments. I don’t let any one thing take over my life. Some forms of escapism include: reading, music, video/on-line games, sports, crafts, movies/T.V., puzzles, gardening, driving, outdoors, exercise, anything creative, yoga, and meditation. I’m sure there are more.

My escape comes in the form of a daily soap—The Young and the Restless. You may laugh and brush aside the abilities of a soap to help my bipolar disorder, but you shouldn’t. For that one hour I am immersed in the world that is Genoa City—the world where Victor and Nikki reign over everything Newman and pursue anything Abbott. It’s a world where I don’t hurt. I don’t have problems. And there’s no stress. I am swept away by the tales and woes of the Genoa city elite. And at the same time I am swept away from my worries and responsibilities of the day. Escape is more than something I allow myself, it is something I need.

Sort through the elements of your life and discover ways to bring some peace to your mind—some quiet to your life. Give yourself permission to escape.

Little Pleasures

Bob went to the grocery store for me last week and found Dr. Pepper made with REAL SUGAR in cans.  Throwback cans and the whole bit.  I remember when all the soft drinks we made with sugar.  THen slowly, slowly they started replacing it with high fructose corn syrup.  Supposedly to our health detriment.  Whatever.  I’m just glad Bob found them and brought home a twelve pack.

Getting packed for our trip.  We head out to St. Louis this week and I’ll be on hiatus from blogging.  But we all hope to have fun and get to relax for a little while.

My youngest just went off with her friends to watch the dollar movie at the local theater.  Hopefully she will have fun.  The middle child has run off to the band hall to practice her music, and the oldest is off work today.  So it looks like a slow day around here.  Which is another little pleasure I am going to enjoy.

Thank goodness for simple pleasures.


Aches to FeelOriginally one of the Four Humours in ancient medical practice, the word melancholia comes from the Greek for “black bile.”  Someone with a melancholic temperament presented as despondent, quiet, analytical and serious.

Whole eras could be melancholic (The Dark Ages).  Movements in music, literature and philosophy grew around it—Germany’s Strum und Drang, William Blake’s art and poetry, Edgar Allen Poe in general.

Later, melancholia became synonymous with major clinical depression, but went out of fashion as a medical term.

My personal experience of melancholia contains a wistful element—a hole that can’t be filled, an undefined longing.  There’s a nostalgic flavor to it, an almost remembering.  It’s that feeling of waking out of a dream right before an answer is given, before arriving at the destination, before the consummating kiss.  Something very important slips through my fingers, only I can’t remember what it was.  I miss someone terribly, but I don’t know who.

Across the wide spectrum of my bipolar mood swings, this is the place I can tolerate the best.  I’m not surprised that poets, painters, musicians and philosophers created from this saturnine state.  I experience it as deeply romantic and full of movement—Catherine in Wuthering Heights, crying out for Heathcliff on the moors.  For me, this mood easily attaches itself to story, character, fictional angst and all things heart-wrenching.  I can use this form of depression.  I can’t say that about most of my other states.

It still requires mindfulness.  Melancholia’s longing draws in sorrow and angst from outside of me, be it real or fictional.  I dare not watch The Road or Atonement.  And after I finish that intense reunion scene with my short story characters, I’d better go watch funny kitten videos on You Tube.

Having a hole that can’t be filled creates incredible vulnerability.  The longing to fill an aching, raw void leads to desperate acts.  So, while this humour visits me, I will feed it art and words of love and belonging.  If I’m very lucky, I might even start to remember that nothing is missing at all.


My Response to Laura A. Lord’s “Of Roots and Wreckage”

My Response to Laura A. Lord‘s Of Roots and Wreckage Answering the call of Laura Lord’s poetry I write not as a poet For I have not Lord’s skill nor gift But in response to her words moving mine That, in…

My Best Friend Is Dead

At around 3:30am Saturday morning my best friend lost her fight with cancer. It doesn’t feel real and when it does all I can do is cry. My head just keeps popping to things I would talk to her about and I know I won’t be able to ever again. Ever. Like that’s it, shows over. I will be alone.

I know that seems like a weird thing to say because I have a wonderful husband but she is the one that kept my shit on track and I never got mad at her once for saying how she really felt I was being, feeling, doing etc.

I now have 0 friends.

It hurts so much I can’t even describe it. Feels like someone is tearing at my soul. That’s the best I can do to try to explain.

I don’t know what I am supposed to do now.

I’m alone.


It didn’t really occur to me it’d go noticed were I not to post for a day. Guess in light of last night’s meltdown, I should probably expected a bit of concern.

I did not get cured, I will not puke rainbows, BUT I’ve been in agonizing crampy shark week pain all day thus last night’s meltdown is explained. I go batshit when the hormones get out of whack the tiniest bit. Yes, in addition to the bipolar. I am one lucky bitch.

Today was just disconnect again day. I need it. I’ve let too much of this mental health shit into my brain and it’s systemically poisoning me. Everyone and their cousin’s now bipolar AND borderline. Pot smoking induces manic episodes. Bipolar can be managed by anti anxiety meds alone. NO ONE needs meds because it’s all lies and a scam.

Too. Much. Flotsam and Jetsam.

I am not a leader or a follower, I cannot speak to the masses or walk behind the great minds. I will never be one to “figure it all out” and I am actually good with that. I get too overwhelmed to have to view problems on a larger scale. The only thing I am an expert on is ME.

I THINK doctors need to get their heads out of their asses and learn to distinguish between bipolar and borderline. This diagnosis de jour thing they’re doing the last ten years is just LAZINESS because it’d require spending too much time with a patient to actually tell bipolar and borderline apart, let alone declare both are in progress.

IF chemicals and alcohol “cause” bipolar symptoms, how about more time spent with patients to weed out what’s “inorganic” versus what simply is and not our fault?

If Xanax alone held bipolar at bay, I would NEVER IN A GAZILLION YEARS TAKE ANOTHER DRUG.

And yeah, doctors overprescribe, the pharma companies are evil, and a lot of people are simply neurotic, quirky, going through stress or depressive events, and don’t need the pills at all. Scam city.


For every hundred people placed on these meds and declared with an illness arbitrarily…There are ten of us who are legitimately imbalanced and REQUIRE those medications to keep from losing our shit. I have no doubt without meds I’d either be in prison or dead due to the poor choices made during manic and depressive phases. To say that’s somehow a brainwashing we’ve allowed the doctors to perform is ignorant.

But it’s that whole bad apple-ruins-it-all thing.

Furthermore…for every male out there who’s made snide jokey comments about how women use pms and periods as an excuse to be a  bitch…

I hope your penises shrivel up and fall off.

You have NO clue what it’s like to have your entire identity turned upside down every month turning you into a husk of who you normally are and amplifying shit that normally doesn’t even phase you. Until your own body betrays you by taking away your control and dignity…

We, vagina owners, however can joke about it. Just like men can joke about needing Viagra but if a woman suggested it, they’d be a bitch. Yeah, just like that.

The only thing that keeps me from becoming asexual is the fact that for every thousand douchey men there’s at least ONE decent one with a soul. Or so I’ve heard, but then, I believe in pegacorns. It could happen.

Signing off, grumpy and McCrampy

real personality gps