Alexa Bond Carter

Okay, kiddies in the shallow end of the gene pool.

I am NOT Manda. I will not allow anyone to bully me or my muses. That other writer is fine, and has her own pups and her own writing and I wish her the best. Manda died, it was sad and awful, and all of us acted badly. But I am not going to have people coming on my sites posting vile things about EITHER of those writers, or other writers they wrote with, especially fannyfae, who had nothing to do with any drama. That is childish, and it is stupid. Enough drama and shitstorms have been done with these pups, we certainly do not need people stirring up old shit. Let Manda rest in peace, let the muses go forward through their writer's vision. If you like it, want to read it, great. If not, scroll on. But do not expect to engage me in your little past issue wars with either Jaye or Manda. I am not playing.

Grow up, people...sheesh.

I know Mark and Stelios likely won't see this, but I was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more amused than I should be when Amazon sent me a Spartan Steak Knife set as a suggestion today.

I would create an app that emits a siren, and flashing lights, any time one of my bastard exes is in the same damn hemisphere. If Methos is in Seacouver? WHOOWHOOWHOO!!!

Blue light to go with his makeup from Horseman days. BOOM!

If Aramis is flitting around Los Angeles? WAAAAAAHWAAAAAAAHWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Yellow lights and maybe some churchy music...BOOM!

And if Marcus Carterus Cassius Albifrickingbinus lands his happy ass in New York, or goes to make love to his artifact junk at that cabin in Canada? BOOMCHICKABOWWOW!

RED LIGHTS, BITCHES! My I Phone would shake like a whore in church. BOOM!

See...that's the key, ladies. You want to avoid your bad past choices in life? You need to just create an app that allows you to always stay half a planet away from them. Because you know what happens? I'll tell you...pay attention.

You are just going through life, happy as a clam. You go to a bar, or a jazz club? You are minding your own business, and then they show up with their great abs or puppy eyes...and pretty soon you are remembering all of the earth shattering sex that you had in hammocks or at Disneyland. Then you remember how much you loved them, how much of your heart they owned. And then, girls, you are screwed...literally and figuratively. Nope...

Much better to make that app. When I sober up, I am definitely going to do that.

But not tonight...tomorrow isn't looking good, either.