Oh, my God. On multiple, multiple levels, I am so sorry all of this happened to you.

I blocked him but hung on to the texts/videos for awhile just in case. He 100% doesn’t know where I live. Thank goodness.

Alright, been debating writing this down because I’ve been trying to get it out of my mind. This story has a few different facets and I have no idea what to make of all of it.

Right?! I live alone. A few days after, FB memories reminded me of a dream I had about a priest committing suicide in my bathroom.

I never post so I don’t know if anyone will see this but, a few weeks ago, I came home to this. That is not my hand.

This is kind of scary, but the scariest part of this story is how awful my taste in men was/is.

When my husband and I got engaged, I was living with a roommate. To save money for the wedding, rather than re-upping my lease, I moved back into my childhood home. This meant my parents and grandparents (who lived there) were always keeping an eye out to be sure we weren’t fornicating.

So, being creative, young…

In the bed asleep and something screams my name jolting me awake. I look around, get up and check to see if it was my wife. Nope she is sound asleep in our daughters room. I go back to lay down and try to go back to la la land. I lay down with just the sheet over me and toss and turn.

Not nearly as scary as some of your absolutely horrifying stories, but here’s mine. I remember it vividly and get chills every time I think about it.

During the summer before my senior year a few friends and I were parked in a remote area at the end of a dirt road so I we could hot-box the car. It was a spot we went to frequently. It was about 2 in the morning, there were no houses within a few miles, and there was no place for any other cars to have parked. After…

You’d have to know him to be freaked out by this story (because this is all Google-able) but here it goes. My brother is a small town businessman. He doesn’t need the computer very often for work, so he doesn’t waste his life away on the internet, like his punk sister. He has always, however, seen ghosts. He is…

This is not my story, but my best friend’s, and I’m sharing with his blessing. (Re-post from last year.)

Me wait ALL YEAR for this moment. ALL YEAR.

I don’t think he listens to music, but I think he considers Fox News in the background to be good ambiance.

I’m a Tennessean and we really need all the help we can get, so I’m pretty thankful for Taylor Swift speaking up. Marsha Blackburn is a fucking scourge and deserves the guillotine, honestly. 

Don’t get married. I swear if there is one bit of wisdom I can give to hetero ladies don’t fucking do it. Cohabitate. Live separate. Fall in love. Whatever but don’t fucking get married. Live yo life!!!! I say this, of course, as a happily (like 65% of the times) cohabitating SO with a child. LIVE. LIVE. My…

I dunno, the way Kim described that argument didn’t sound too different from the way my plebeian mom friends describe their manbaby husbands.

Kim and Kanye seem to have some modern version of a marriage of convenience. He loves her because she has a record followers on social media (he even put it in his wedding vows if I’m not mistaken) and because he has a doll to dress up. She maybe wanted some hiphop street cred...? They live apart a good deal of the…

Shut up.

Along the same lines... Peanut butter with a Kraft cheese single. Delicious! It's like a grown up version of those peanut butter and cheese crackers.