I’ll See My Love Tonight! (Part 3 – Widow Love)

Well, I made a truly epic mixed tape that alternated between Portuguese Fado, Nancy Sinatra and Drake respectively. I even lay down some of my own SW beats in my state of the art home recording studio. (In fact, I hate to name drop, but the break through local Seattle Rap artist Mackeralmore blogged about the very awesomeness of my home studio.) And yet, I still feel empty. This mystery man, this muralist extraordinaire, with the love he clearly feels for me, he has opened my heart again, illuminating the emotional wasteland left behind by that other man that I married and who committed the ultimate betrayal when he up and croaked on me. I decided I have to meet the new man of my dreams.

But how?

You see my formula to cope with the darkest of nights combines, three bottles of wine, four (teen) or so extra strength tylenol PM (which are non-habit forming, of course. One must always be careful of addiction) and a sprinkling of muscle relaxant. This allows me to sleep through my grief as well as the discomfort caused by the moisturizer infused burlap body stocking that I wear to bed each night. It is another brilliant invention of mine that I am patenting and calling the Exfoliderm Stocking. ™ I arise in the mornings a wee bit groggy to be frank, and often can’t remember anything before 6PM but my skin! OH! Like a baby’s bottom. So it is absolutely essential that I follow my regime. God forbid my new love touches me and I am covered in an unsightly layer of dry, dead skin cells. I would lose him for sure!

My next move was brilliant! Meg, my most faithful fan and cleaning lady, is an expert on surveillance electronics. Funny story. Unbeknownst to me she had thoroughly wired my house with itty bitty hidden cameras and had been watching my every move from her basement apartment in my house. Isn’t technology amazing! Oh, how we laughed when I discovered the private website she had posted online that cronicled via webcam, the menutia of my day. I had no idea I looked so fetching even as I brushed my teeth. I can’t blame her and the three other fans of the site for their fascination. It is the light that I emminate and those three ladies in lockdown need as much light as they can get, given their exceedingly long sentences. So Meg installed a computron type tablet on the side of the house so that I may speak with my love from inside the house via the intranet with minimal disruption to my beauty routine.

Dusk is coming my adoring friends. In the darkness, my love will arrive and I will be ready to embrace him electronically and profess my undying devotion. “Too much to fast,” you say? Perhaps I should “meet him first, to see what he looks like and make sure his credit score is decent?” Well, the great depths of my sorrow have created a capacity for love unmatched by any other. Do I sometimes I sound a little competitive? I most certainly am not. I am just honest. Like a ninety year old woman neck deep into her G and Ts. I speak most spectacularly with unequivocal, astounding plainness. I promise you my doting fans, I will never get too fancy for my own good. The world has too many narcissists already. What I am is a gift around which the universe can’t help but to be compelled to rotate. It is my burden but I will shoulder it for you. You need me. I know. I promise to be faithful to you even as my new love blows my mind between the sheets. OH MY! OH! ….what was I saying… Well it is getting late and that fourth bottle of wine isn’t going to drink itself.

Yours forever as you bask in my most holy light.

Super Widow

Winner of the ‘Gwith Ot Waf Aef’
(Greatest Widow In The History Of The World And For All Eternity Forever)

Mixed Tape – Your Ticket To Love (Widow Love – Part 2)

OMG, OMG, OMG!!! The mural! If my beauty were ever in question, no longer! The mural portrays me perfectly. It is breathtaking! Finally my glory has been captured! It is so tasteful. Just a little side boob. Which is so relevant these days. It is sufficiently sexually suggestive to rankle CBN and her righteous GOBs. And the artist was kind enough to paint it on a rather ginormous detachable canvas so that when he is offered another $10,000 by CBN to paint a new mural, I can keep this one! So thoughtful.  Oh! Who is this mystery man who has seen so deeply into my soul!

That isn’t even the best part. This unknown sentient being with whom I am falling madly in love, made me a mixed tape! He left it on my doorstep! To all you Millennials out there who think Vinyl is soooo cool, vinyl is totally 2010. The new retro cool is tape.  The tape is filled with the most elegant collection of love songs varying from Captain and Tennile’s Love Will Keep us Together, (I LOVE that song!) to the Notorious B.I.G’s Big Poppa. He’ll “love it when I call him Big Poppa!” I just know it! I mean if it comes to that… A girl can dream.

I must get to work on a mixed tape for my mystery artist man! If you have any song suggestions, please do share! I’ll be sure to post my play list when I am done!

I am so grateful for you all! You are so beautiful…and so am I.


Banksy Would Sooooo Love Me! (Widow Love – Part 1)

Dearest adoring fans, what would I do without you? You see, there are times that the thought of never seeing my late husband ever again brings on a near madness that makes me desire to learn how to tie my own shoes . (Can you imagine!? Ugh! No thank you.) Last night I actually dreamt I was shoe shopping with him in a store that sold only lace ups! I was weeping hysterically at the sheer cruelty of it all, screaming to the salesman for slip ons, buckles or zippers! The sound of my own voice crying out in despair awoke me in the dead of night. So let me just say, thank God for all the excitement in my neighborhood! It is a most outstanding distraction.

After busting CBN’s huffing ring I discovered that her huffing shed was 4’ 11 & 9/10th inches from her fence. Local ordinances require at least 5 feet! How did I find out!? Why I went under cover and dressed up as a panda bear to take measurements. I figured while high she sees all sorts of things. She’d be afraid that if she reported seeing a panda in her yard they might come to believe my charges of huffing.

Oh! The the sound of her voice screeching my name when the city inspectors showed up! The glass of three panes from that GD up-cycled shed shattered from the sound. Which made her screech my name louder and more panes broke and thus the cycle continued until all that was left were empty frames. You see she radiates hatred and through my holy energy it is turned to love.  And it is love that has shattered the site of her huffing. The shed is now fully ventilated! Yes, more susceptible to rain and I’m sure she is rethinking the wisdom of that paper mache life raft but all in all…it really is poetic!

That all would have been satisfying unto itself but to make matters even better, during the inspection, an underground cellar packed floor to ceiling with a ridiculous amount the rarest, and finest varieties of street art spray paint was unearthed. Some was shipped from as far as Russia and China. She was told that it was dangerously and improperly stored and that she had one month to dispose of all of it!

Oh, it gets better!

Two days after the inspection, I awoke to the most superb Suburbia Street Art painted on the side of my house! It was a Norman Rockwell style family wearing gas masks while the mother spray-painted a birthday cake. I e-mailed her a jpg.

She was enraged, concluding, I think rightly so the artist was mocking her! She then let it slip, “I didn’t hire him to humiliate ME!” before clamping her mouth shut and scurrying back into her house.

I don’t know what she told him but low and behold the next morning the mural was replaced by a mural of the dad from Leave it to Beaver smoking a joint while eating a brownie branded with a pot leaf symbol. A quote from the genius rap tune Stop the Breaks was displayed next to it. “I do graffiti art, but like Mozart, decorate the symbol, I ain’t just paint…” Brilliant.

I sent CBN another jpg. She was certain the the mural represented that infamous Xmas party. Stop the Breaks quote and all! You know the one from my blog entry Whale of a Christmas. Yes, that one. She was IRATE! I guess the artist is a fan of my blog and thoroughly enjoyed that entry. He told me so in a note he left at my front door. I am so loved. I really am. It is remarkable. That’s what the love prism that I am can do to the world, transform CBN’s bile into art.

Today, I have written him a note with a tastefull nude photo of me attached asking that the artist do a rendering of me wearing my cape….only. Scandalous! I hope I hear back from him. If he does write back, I wonder what he will say….? And to what will I awaken on the side of my house!?

Also, please note, dear readers that my special cracker jack mystery solving guest has booked her ticket. She will be here in a matter of weeks to help me bust this huffing ring wide open!!

I love you all!


Up-Cycle Your Life!

By Super Widow (Entry 3)

My world has been rocked asunder. This new vista in which I now exist has changed me irrevocably. Opened my heart. Given me purpose. I now know what I must do!

You see, I had been feeling abundantly sad of late. Drifting through life. My late husband’s thoughtless abandonment had left me questioning my value. Just yesterday morning I had been trying to find a hobby or some sort of a project to cheer me up.  Even then, I certainly knew what I would not do!? Label transforming complete junk in to a new kind of utter kak! Did you know that there are people turning Ikea shopping bags into swimwear!? AND let me just say for the record that I am sick and tired of the world of DIY trying to convince me that with a few cans of spray paint and an assortment of glues you can make just about anything look new again. I mean the torrent of advice from amateur and pro decorators alike is astonishing. Shameful! While you are all at it, why don’t you take that can of seascape blue and make over your god awfully behaved children! Decoupage that husband with the wandering eye! ‘Up cycle’ your whole damned life while you are at it! Take that glut of stuff and junk you bought that was meant to fill the emotional voids in your life and give them a makeover. Soooo easy armed with an arsenal of spray cans filled with the promise of a clean, shiny new life.

And no one has more of those cans of hope than my Crazy. Ass. Bitch. Neighbor! CBN has not one but 1000 Pinterest pages about it. She and her GOB (Gaggle o’ Bitches) have spray painted everything from a can of spray paint, to a toilet brush, to the flowers in her garden. “The pink of the hydrangea was too blue and needed a touch of orange.  “I needed to warm them up,”  she cooed. I told her that was ridiculous and invited her to come over to my place to make out the next time she needed to warm something up. The woman has no sense of humor. Everyone else at the PTA meeting thought it was hilarious! Well, at least the token dad was into it.

I digress… As one of his final acts of home improvement, my husband installed a widow’s walk atop of our house along with a with high-powered star-gazing telescope. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why. I will admit that it has proven quite handy not only to ensure that our house always looms at least half a story taller than the rest of the neighborhood but to provide an excellent vista of the comings and goings of the area. Not the least of which is a perfect view of CBN’s DIY up-cycled reclaimed window walled “crafting shed.” She built it, “in order to be able to achieve maximum ventilation for all of her up-cycled domestic spray art. Health before aesthetics!” (Honestly, she really can just fuck off.)

Well! Last night after our One On One hot meditating™, while Rama Pete prepared some of his most holy prayer smoke for us to imbibe in our most holy state of post mediation bliss, I went into the bathroom to remove some nail polish. The bottle was curiously empty but I did notice movement in CBN’s DIY up-cycled reclaimed window walled crafting shed. I didn’t think much of it and returned to Rama Pete who was wrapped in his loin cloth dripping in sweat doing pull ups from the bar of my wrought iron canopy bed. Odd, but okay, I’m never one to discourage physical exercise. He was having trouble counting past one so in support, I began counting for him while I imbibed. Shortly there after I found myself recreating the uneven bar routine from high school regionals on that same bed. Rama Pete had moved on to unknotting my hand-knotted Tibetan rug one knot at a time while singing the libretto of 8 Mile. So profound. It was about this time that I had the overwhelming impulse to hump my late husband’s telescope on the widows walk. I moved with the astounding personal physical governance of a panther up the ladder but before I could get one leg up and over the telescope, I again sensed movement in my CBN’s up-cycled shed. Terrified I’d been seen, and heard…I’m pretty sure I was howling…I dropped to my belly on the floor of the widow’s walk.

Well. Well, well, well, well, well, well, well.  Oh, CBN.

When I peeked up over the rail, there they were the Gaggle o’ Bitches, entrenched in a fog, nay, a full on cumulus nimbus of sprayed paint. The windows were tightly secured. I grabbed the telescope for a closer look. And wasn’t the Queen of the B’s sitting there a top the papier-mache life raft she had recently crafted, holding a bag over her nose and mouth and inhaling deeply. An industrial sized bucket of decoupage glue at her side. Clearly the paint fumes were not enough! And OH those GOBs! Some were laughing hysterically, some crying Tonya Harding style, a few were talking smack to their invisible barista, and the gaggliest B of them all, Tammy Swinny was humping the floor to an erratic beat only she could hear. God bless.

And I thought Of COURSE! Huffing! It explains so much! This DIY phenomena this international obsession with crafting and up-cycling. Environment my ass. Let it now be said that I am on to you, you glut of crafters clogging up once perfectly respectful design websites with your latex two coat dreams. You are huffing!

I grabbed my iPhone and ran stealthily through the back yard. I climbed the fence with the agility of a navy seal. I was specTACular. I managed to creep right up to the temple of inhalants undetected and began snapping away.  What I saw was going to shake the very foundation of suburban life in Seattle as we know it. This city known for its high rate of literacy, for its groundbreaking computronish type industries, for cutting edge hipsters and mustache themed jewelry was about to fall and fall hard. I snapped photo after photo until CBN realized they were all seeing the flashes of light from my camera. They ran out to confront me. (Ran is being rather generous. Stumble, trip, moonwalk, jazzercise…all aplicable.) They saw me. I saw them. They saw that I saw them. They saw that I saw that they saw me. CBN tackled me, emitting sounds like those of a raccoon engaged in intimate relations. We struggled. A woman high on decoupage glue is not to be trifled with, let me tell you! But I had the almighty universe on my side and my inner strength was of iron. Well, until that horndog Tammy began humping my right leg. I tried to swat her away and in that instant, CBN ripped my iPhone from my hands. She stood. The gaggle of B’s surrounded her. She began reviewing the photos.

“I’ve already sent them to the cloud!” I yelled.

She dropped the phone dispassionately to the dew covered grass and like zombie phantoms, they all scattered into the darkness toward their various homes.

Back in my bedroom, Rama Pete had rewoven my rug into a man-sized cocoon bed in which he slept deeply. I, with bated breath, reviewed the gold mine that awaited me on my phone.

In retrospect, I should have checked the direction of the lens on my iPhone. It was set to self-portrait.

Now you may say, and certainly CBN did say that I had no evidence but why else would anyone in their right mind be making such a face? The shock and awe on my visage is palpable. It is conclusive that I was witnessing a deeply distressing event. Still to no avail. In the light of day, CBN and her GOBs deny it all. The thing is, all I want to do is help them. Huffing is a serious, dangerous, life ending addiction and these women were in denial! Today, I am clear of mind. As I said at the beginning of this entry, I have a purpose. I am going to stage an intervention! It will be my pleasure to help my CBN. What would love do? It would not turn a blind eye! I have a responsibility to bring the bitches back into the light of the loving universe before they lose their path completely.

But first, I need evidence. And when there is a mystery to be solved, there is only one person to call. She is experienced, she is wise, and most importantly she is famous!

Stay tuned my friends, for next I will bring to you the Huffing Tons post.

Yours truly,

Super Widow

Winner of the ‘Gwith Ot Waf Aef’
(Greatest Widow In The History Of The World And For All Eternity Forever)