I’m Not Jewish

My ex-husband’s father is a Jew. My ex-husband’s mother is Italian, Eastern European and German. She was raised Catholic…

My lineage (regardless) has no Jewish ancestry of any sort in it unless you count the “Messianic Jewish” church…my mother and father worshipped at for a few years in the early 1980’s or the vacation my mother took to the Middle East in the 1970’s… *laughing* And…if you’re dumb, narcissistic, and vile enough you’ll probably find some way to make me a “dirty Jew” considering that vacation and the umm…”Messianic” adventure my parents also took.

“Dirty Jew”? Not my words. My “haters” words, probably… Right? Because I’m not “a gay” (I’m truly not a personal member of the lgtbq community although I do find men in that community who would find me attractive…attractive, potentially). I’m not…mean. I’m not…a bitch. I’m not “insane”…. (Full disclosure for medical idiots and quacks who would “take issue” with my words: I have been diagnosed with clinical depression in the past.) Let’s see…I’m not weird, really. Eccentric maybe, but not weird. …Hmm… I’m not a liar. I don’t have a personality disorder… I’m well off, from a upper middle to upper class white family. I’m unusually intelligent. I’m actually humble (as in, not arrogant) when I’m not being abused by rabid lunatics… Umm… *shrug* I’m apparently a 9 to 10 on the 1 to 10 scale of female attractiveness. *shrug* I’m not dorky or geeky or rude…or lacking self-awareness or self-control. What else? I don’t obsess about stupid things for stupid reasons…

…So because my ex-husband’s father is Jewish my “haters” will now harp on that hate note? Ok. *eye-roll* Desperate times call for desperate measures I guess. I’m sorry you’re so pathetic and needy and damned that you barely have a soul left inside of you? Do my typos make you feel better and all warm gooey inside? I bet they do. Never mind that ADHD is often associated with higher abilities intellectually and artistically. It’s all about the typos, right?! *Woohoo!!*

Yeah, and by the way, I’m more white than I’d bet 100% of my “haters” would ever dream of being. Truly. So what? My kids should be worshipped by these crows and vultures because if they’re white supremacists my children are inherently more white than they’ll ever dream of being too… Like, like, literally! …Oh wait! I bet that’s why the cute little “white supremacists” pretend to be “black” sometimes right?! Because they think they can hack it with “the black folk” since they’re not white enough for me or my family to achieve greatness by comparison? And they think “the black folk” will “help” them out of empathy and solidarity. “Black power” and all that jazz… Right?!

Jazz. Oops. Yeah, jazz was mostly created by Jews and blacks (sometimes in respect I’m not sure whether to use black or African American, sorry). Soo… I guess they better find black people who don’t associate with rap, jazz or any other sort of “black art”. Because traitors don’t have anyone watching their back.

*Teehee!* …If I unfollow you on this blog, block you on Instagram or ignore you: You’re welcome. Take your cue Betty Grable from the trailer park and leave. Mmkay?

…Oh and for the angry Jewish people reading this: I bake an excellent brisket and love my kids the way a good…English mother would. How about that?! Is that enough for you to not genuinely hate me? *wink* Do I pass?! Pretty please with sugar on top?! *grin*

Speaking of English beauty: Sometimes it rains…sometimes it’s gray and dreary…and other times it’s pure Heaven. …Subtleties are lost on people sometimes so hopefully you read English well enough to “get it”.

When People Play Pretend

Final thoughts for the day? Don’t play pretend.

If you’re trying to relate to someone very different than you? Don’t pretend to be like them or to like them as a person if neither are true. That’s pushy, dishonest, and disrespectful. And over time you’ll either put your foot in your mouth or they will. It’s a recipe for hurt feelings or righteous rage or both.

…The thing is…I’m not a liar. *sigh* I’m not sure what else to say… Especially when some people are. People are. They do… People lie. More than I’d like to think.

If I was a male ghost and my soulmate was alive and I’d done something to allow people to spread heinous lies about me I’d feel ripped apart every time she cried. Because…first, I wasn’t there to comfort her and second I had no way to at least defend myself easily. For example, if she even knew I existed people could make it seem like I’d destroy her and despise her and neglect her and use her and laugh and spit on her grave while stealing her very soul with my full, unvarnished, beloved approval. Jealous, weak-minded, soddy, soggy, milk-toast-and-tea wannabe bitches could make her feel like her face or body or mind or very soul…was ugly or…inferior to their’s because… Well, I wouldn’t be able to tell her why. Would I? I’d be dead.

Maybe…it’s because I had the. best. sex. ever. with them in a past life?!?! We made mad, passionate, mind-blowing love. All day. All night. All week… All the days of our lives. …I mean…maybe we rocked each other’s worlds baby! *breathless and overwhelmed by hot love* Or maybe it’s because they’re infinitely more worldly, or kind, or powerful, or empowering or empowered…than my silly, silly soulmate. *laugh*. My umm…soulmate. ? Twin flame? Twin? Soulmate? What’s it called now?


Yeah… But I wouldn’t be able to say a peep. So…how would God see all of that?! Hmm? Hmm… You should ask Him sometime. Right?! *wink* *wink* Hubba hubba!! *wink*

Please, honey. *eye-roll* Please. …We all have our own brains. And nobody will ever have mine but me. And if that’s too gruesome for evil, rock-throwing, gross, despicable assholes to handle then they best stop reading. Just a sweet, loving, gentle, fun little reminder kiddos.