Pink Petals of Lady Love
2007-07-15 11:32:40
I had a bad night last night. Horrible night. I haven’t had this bad of a night since I was nineteen, drunk as a young little redneck, and out in a bar, dancing on some speakers hoping to impress that brown eyed boy across the dance floor.
I impressed him alright. It was hard not to be impressed when I drunkenly tumbled off the top of the ten feet tall speakers, landed on my head with my skirt around my ears and my flowered granny panties waving hello to all the boys and girls who had gathered around to see if I broke my neck.
I didn’t. But when I stood up I managed to toss my cookies all over my brown eyed boy’s sandaled feet.
It was a bad night. And so was last night.
Not that I was dancing on any speaker for any boy, or yakking publicly on anyone’s toes. But still it was fairly horrible. So bad that the very first thing I did when I woke up was call my darling Boo to tell him about it and have him chase away the ghosts of the night before.
I had a bad drea
Read more: Petals
I am Canadian…Don’t hurt me
2007-07-17 11:12:15
I am not a seasoned traveller. I have never been beyond the invisible line that acts as my country’s border. I keep to myself, my space, my province and never bother the outside world unless it is to pester them on the world wide web.
I’m a homebody. But next week, for the first time ever, I shall grow a set of nuts wings and leave all that is safe and familiar to expand my horizons and leave my mark on the world.
Like a dog marking it’s territory, I’m lifting my leg and getting on a jet plane to pee on the world. Specifically, the United States of America. Our friendly neighbour to the south. Big Brother. The States.
I mean, how different can y’all be? We watch the same television (thank the heavens for that, because Canadian
broadcasting is well, fucking boring. Once they took the Beachcombers, the Friendly Giant and Casey and Finnegan off the air, it all went down hill. And I would know. The only channel I get with out any static is our national CBC
Read more: hellip
Expansion
2007-07-23 10:40:34
My darling hubs surprised me on Thursday night while I was flopped out on the family sofa, eating sunflower spits, drinking red wine (I have such elegant, refined tastes) and drooling in front of the telly. One moment I was watching the newest commercial for cleaning products, the next my husband’s head was leering at me, mere inches away, separated only by the panes of glass that is my window.
Needless to say, I just about crapped my pants. I had spoken to him earlier and he had made no mention of coming home. I was a little surprised. (And a little tipsy.)
Once I got over the shock of having my husband press his face up against the glass (which of course, he won’t ever clean) while making monster noises; and once he got over the shock of seeing his wife shoot sunflower seeds into a spittoon while chugging a cheap red, we had a lovely evening.
We truly are a couple resembling class and dignity at all times. We strive for it, really.
Sitting outside on our deck, he gazed
Read more: Expansion
Big Dreams
2007-07-24 12:41:51
As a young girl growing up in the city, waiting for my fairy prince to rescue me and biding my time until I was rich and famous, I never once thought my life would turn out the way it did.
If you had told me, as the geeky, basketball playing - track and field running - staight A student that I was, that I would be slinging popcorn in a movie theatre, knocked up, unwed and poor by the time I was twenty, I would have laughed my ass off.
And then ran screaming into my bedroom, only to emerge for final exams and potty breaks.
I dreamt of becoming a doctor, specifically a neurosurgeon, and no boy, especially the big lipped, bad haired blonde from the sticks who followed me around and left carnival teddies that he won (while on dates with OTHER girls) on my front stoop to remind me of his existience, was going to deter me from that dream.
And then I hit puberty. And suddenly those big lips were very useful for things other than annoying me. Especially when strategically placed.
Ahem.
Sure we
Read more: Dreams
Crazy B!tch
2007-07-26 09:11:38
“Where’s my iPod?” Pillows are flying, cushions are being tossed, and I’m growing increasingly annoyed.
“Frac!! Fric!! Where the hell is my iPod?”
The silence was ringing in my ears. I was expecting a chorus of “Not me’s and I Don’t Know’s.” Hmmm. Could it be? Could my children be ignoring me?
I stopped ransacking my house for a moment and walked into the kitchen where they were both sitting looking remarkably angelic. (They sure didn’t get that trait from me…)
“Hey! TweedleDee and TweedleDum! What did you do with my iPod?”
I find it’s not so easy for my darling children to avoid you if you stick your sharp, pointy nose in their faces.
There were definite signs of squirming. I knew it. They knew where my music machine was.
“Fess up and I promise not to hang you by your toes from the ceiling fan. But the offer of clemency only lasts for thirty seconds. The first one who rolls on the
Read more: Crazy
Why Condoms and Kids made me Bananas
2007-08-01 11:58:04
***Updated below***
Yesterday, after showering and waddling naked through my house, wrapped so tightly in a towel I resembled a sushi roll, I looked at my suitcase and schwag bags lying on the floor, taunting my lazy ass to unpack and put things away. I could just hear them dare me to leave them on the floor to become permanent parts of the decor. Do it, do it, they whispered.
Not one to succumb to peer pressure (snort), even the pressure created in my mind from two inanimate objects, I took a deep breath and dumped the contents of the bags on to the top of my comforter. There! Take that! I thought. This way, I would have to go through my dirty laundry and schwag and put things away. It was on my bed. My precious, soft bed. I had no choice now.
One would think that I would have immediately started putting things away, right? Nah. I was standing there, wrapped in my towel, and let’s face it, it was starting to get a little drafty. As the true blonde I am, I found myself distracte
Read more: Condoms
My Boobs and BlogHer
2007-07-31 11:13:51
I’m back baby. And never happier to be here. Not because I didn’t enjoy my virgin trip to the states. No, quite the opposite. I loved it. Looooooooved it. Those Yanks certainly know how to be an accommodating host. After all, they put up with us rowdy Canucks almost shutting down the hotel and trying to overtake the conference with boob pasties and Canadian chocolate.
(Note how I’m including myself with the rowdy Canucks. I was totally sleeping like a pathetic, ageing loser and avoiding all the phone calls for the Redneck to come out and play. But it sounds cooler when I say I was a rowdy tourist instead of a sleepy one.)
Turns out, I’m NOT the tourist you want to be rooming with. I had a small problem with my bowels. As in I decided to spray the insides of that Yankee bowl with some good ole Canadian shit. My poor room mate. She couldn’t escape the foul smells I emanated.
I tried to make it up to her by being her sherpa for the rest of the trip and pack
My Truth
2007-08-03 11:04:24
I remember the day the nurse brought my freshly birthed daughter back into my room after being cleaned up and examined and thinking, “What the hell? What do I do now?” At barely 20, I was woefully unprepared for the trials motherhood thrust upon me the moment I pushed that baby out of my nice, warm uterus. I’ve been dog paddling in the pool of parenting ever since.
It ain’t pretty. I barely have my nose above the water, and every now and then a wave comes and threatens to take me out. Parenting is hard. And it is painful. Beyond the obvious feminine aspect of gestating, labouring and delivering, being a parent hurts. Worse than if you slam your finger in the car door or get kicked in the face by a four year-old Arabian stallion.
(A demonstration of what type of creative cusser I can be in both instances.)
Just when you finally learn to live on two hours of sleep, succumb to your infant’s every demands, become adept at diapering with one hand and feeding with t
Read more: Truth
A Big Wiener
2007-08-06 12:18:09
Having the spousal unit work out of town and only make infrequent appearances on our doorstep has made for some interesting parental problems. I’m not really a single momma, yet I don’t have the hands on, daily support of a live-in baby daddy.
Which means, I’m a single momma with a sugar daddy, legally obligated to stay at home, mind his nest, spend his money and not flirt with other boys.
There are no rules for flirting with other girls, however.
Hey, how YOU doing, Sandra and Jen? Why don’t the two of you slide on over here and come talk to Big Red?
So many women, so little time.
I digress. I’m one of the lucky ladies out there. I’ve got a man who loves me, is gorgeous, a great provider, a wonderful father, and more importantly, leaves me to my own devices more times than not.
Life is gooooood.
The dark side to being a single parent 80 percent of the time, (besides having to take out the trash myself, police the children, and become best friends w
Rubber Room
2007-08-10 09:37:41
Ever had to sit in a small office in an unpadded chair, opposite a clinical psychologist, and spill your guts out so some government bureaucrat can stamp your adoption application approved or denied, knowing her ass is covered?
No? It’s just me and my family?
Damn, just my luck.
I had intended to post an update today on the adoption and what it’s like to have your parenting ability and personality clinically assessed, but I find I don’t have time.
Because I have to go back…for round two. Another eight hours with this man (I’m refraining from any funny adjectives because I’m trying to be a good girl) and after another kleenex-clutching day, he follows us home.
That’s right. You read that right. He’s coming home with us. To watch us in action as a family.
I’m so hiding my vibrators and the duct tape I use to tape the kiddies to the wall.
I’ll be back later, provided I’m not bouncing around in a rubber room.
Read more: Rubber
Road Rage Within a Marriage
2007-08-08 11:51:26
The hubs is on vacation. Which means he’s back at home. Which means my “honey-do list” might actually get some items crossed off and I might finally get a decent back massage. Wink, wink.
It’s not all roses and romance now that he’s back. Apparently, I hog the bed. He forgets to turn lights off. But really, after being apart so frequently and for so long, it’s a small miracle we remember what the other looks like, let alone why we like them.
Last night, we had our annual family photo; the one with all the nieces and nephews shoved in a room and some poor, underpaid photographer who wishes he was smarter and became an accountant instead, tries to take a decent pic of all the kiddies for their grandma.
In theory, it’s a nice idea. The reality is, there are now 12 kiddies under the age of 11 (including three toddlers) to try and have sit still, keep their hands to themselves, look at the camera and smile. Last time we had vomit, tears, laughter an
Read more: Road Rage
Family of Fruitcakes
2007-08-12 12:03:38
I like to think I’m a relatively balanced person. I don’t often go streaking through the hills stark naked (it takes a lot of liquor poured down my gullet, and a warm breeze to induce me to do so) and I haven’t taken any long walks off a short plank that I can remember.
But when Shalebug passed away, there were moments I was mighty tempted. Luckily, the love of my kids, my husband and a nice merlot pulled me through my darkest hours.
I also had a little pharmaceutical help, those little miracle pills also known as antidepressants. I never had magic pills before and was skeptical of their value, but after a few months on those babies, my world slowly turned right side up and I gained the ability to not only get through the days and nights with out harming myself or others, but I was able to parent again.
A big deal when you have mouths to feed and souls to nourish. Especially after they just buried their little brother.
I don’t apologize or make excuses for my ne
Read more: Family
It’s All How You Word It…
2007-08-17 11:44:44
“Hey Boo, what do you think of this new top I just bought?”, I asked him as he was working on our deck. I twirled around and the purple top lifted slightly with the breeze.
With barely a glance, he answered, “Looks good. Great colour.”
“You didn’t even look. Does it make me look fat?”
There it was. The question every husband dreads hearing. Boo is a smart man. He immediately put down his drill, looked up, and met my eyes.
“Nah. But I like how it makes the McGuffies (our term of endearment for my boobs) look enormous.”
“You’re a pervert. But I love ya.”
I didn’t give the conversation much more thought as I headed into town to have lunch with my girlfriend. I was enchanted by the purple fabric and secretly pleased the top showcased what little chesticles I have. I was feeling pretty good about myself.
“Is that a new top?” my girlfriend asked me.
“Yep. Just bought it,” said as I spun aro
Read more: hellip
I’m the Pied Piper today…Follow me…
2007-08-16 11:42:50
It was a sleepless night last night&hellip
;and I blame it squarely on my husband’s broad shoulders.
Fucker.
Literally.
Snicker.
Come on over to Hot and Bothered if you want to learn what really happens (or doesn’t) in this redneck’s bedroom.
It’s not always pretty.
But then, you haven’t seen what I look like in the morning.
(Oh, and have a giggle on me over Boo’s response in the comments…)
Painting Other People’s Posts
2007-08-15 11:42:55
I’m over here today, painting Sam’s posts as my own.
Come on over and check out my graffiti. I promise you, it’s a work of art.
Snicker.
Also, if you haven’t been by in a while, go check out Hot and Bothered. You never know what kind of kink is going on around those parts.
Snicker.
I’m off to conquer my fear of dragon flies. I shall slay that fear … or several of the little buggers if it comes down to it…
I only wish that was my foot. My toes are hairier.
Read more: Painting
Wife’s Night Off
2007-08-14 09:49:39
Boo, wandering in after spending the last few hours building us a pool deck, “What’s for supper, woman. I’m starving.”
Me, after spending the last few hours surfing the net and watching my husband break his back for a deck I wanted, “Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? I’m hot, hungry and dammit woman, it’s your job to feed me. Not to mention, our kids might need to eat.”
“I’m taking the night off. I’m tired of cooking. Order a pizza and drive to town to get it. That’s as good as I can give you.”
“Well you go pick it up at least, since you aren’t cooking.”
“Nah. I’ve already been to town twice today because of swim camp and the kids. You want to eat, you pick it up.”
“Aren’t you a peach.”
“Why thank you. You’re more of a pear…Kinda woody.”
“Cute. I’m leaving. Order the pizza now so it will be ready by the
Read more: Night
The Power of the Purple Shirt
2007-08-21 12:12:38
Most husbands show their love a variety of ways. The occasional bouquet of flowers, a shiny bauble or even the impromptu picking up their shit dirty socks with out being asked.
Not my man.
No, he prefers a bolder method of announcing his love.
He buys me appliances. Now that my friends, is true love.
After seeing me stroking Karen and George and whispering sweet words of love to them countless times over how efficient the new appliances were, he decided it was time to replace several other appliances, namely our fridge, stove and deep freezer.
In his mind, appliances equal unbridled sex.
In my mind, appliances equal well, unbridled sex. (There is a reason we have been happily married for so long. This man gets me.)
Because his plans for the summer fell through and he spent the majority of it busting his ass, surrounded by other sweaty men busting their asses, instead of at home with his family, he decided to bribe pony up a few grand to add to our clan of shiny new electronic applian
Read more: Purple
, Shirt
Hand Me a Paper Bag Will You?
2007-08-24 11:02:45
I’m not a comfortable hostess. Shocking, I know. The thought of people other than my children or my husband coming into my home, my space, makes my blood pressure rise and my boobs droop.
Well, okay, my boobs droop any ways, but I like the idea of blaming it on visitors.
When we planned the floor design for our home, we thought for about a split second of having a guest room. And then I laughed merrily and thought why encourage people to stay over? Our home is a comfortable size, it fits me and my family nicely.
But there is no room for others.
Others that plan on spending the night, using my shower, poking about in my pantry and finding my hidden alcoholic stash.
Which is why I’m sitting here, breathing deeply, trying not to obsess over the fact that for the first time in our ten plus years of marriage, we are having overnight guests. For two nights. Three days. In my home. My home with no basement and no place to hide, except perhaps in the back of my closet behind Boo&rs
Shaking my Fist at the Universe
2007-08-22 11:47:06
Every summer Boo and I invite his entire family over to our acreage to kick back, sit around our fire pit, get smoke in their eyes, eat my bad cooking, get stung by wasps and step in what ever animal droppings lay around. If the weather is nice, the kids splash around in the pool while the adults nurse their alcoholic beverages and try to ignore the children’s squeals.
It’s good times really. I enjoy having them over. Shaddup. I really do. There is nothing better than a dozen children (aged 11 and under) littering your lawn with popsicle wrappers, juice boxes and plastic toys. While us adults sit around and try to do as little as possible with the exception of bending our elbows and swallowing back sweet nectar of the gods.
All under the watchful eye of the mother-in-law. Who doesn’t drink.
Good times. (Picture a passel of grownups hiding their beers behind lawn chairs, planters, or shrubs whenever the MIL wanders by. Until we get liquored up of course. Then we just p
Read more: Shaking
, Universe
Yes, I AM a Dirty Girl
2007-08-28 11:33:11
I have a dirty little secret. All right, perhaps it is not so secret, but it is filthy nonetheless. I’m a closet smoker. I smoke when I’m alone in the car, I smoke sitting on my deck when the kids are in bed and in the day light hours, I tell my kids I’m going to check the gardens and then I hide in the trees and puff myself to oblivion.
There, I feel so free. So liberated. I’ve admitted my problem, I can now inhale with relief.
Except there is the small fact my lungs are charred and blackened, I’d probably just hack if I tried to breathe deeply.
I didn’t always smoke, but my family always has. I grew up thinking fresh air meant freshly exhaled cigarette smoke, not the stale leftovers from the day behind. At one point I was the only member in my family who didn’t smoke. I vowed to always remain the pink-lunged sheep in our clan. Never would these lips touch a cigarette butt. After all, as my husband always says, there are better things in life
A Beary Good Time
2007-08-27 13:40:47
I survived the weekend.
Barely.
There were casualties. Actually, there were many casualties. I’m waiting to hear from a batch of screaming lawyers as I hide in my home, now emptied from the throng of 26 or more bodies shoved into the cracks and crevices of my house over the course of the weekend.
It is just me, my kids, my dog and the sweet twittering of the birds. Just as how Nature intended it.
Oh, and the bears.
I’m still waiting for the wildlife officers to arrive and take them away.
While I’m waiting, I’m blog-sitting for Her Bad Mother. Go on over and read about my wild weekend here.
Be thankful I haven’t invited any of you over to my house lately.
The Kink is On
2007-08-31 07:55:31
While I’m away, on my last summer road trip with my kiddies, I am sitting here thinking of you.
Actually, that’s not completely true.
Most likely, I’m sitting in a boat with a beer in one hand and a fishing rod in the other while trying to keep my small lovelies from tipping overboard. Safety first after all.
But, yesterday, I was thinking of you. And it’s the thought that counts. Not when you think it, right?
Racy Red is back and telling it like it is. Or at least how it is in my world. Go check it out here.
If that’s not enough for you, I’m gonna be famous. Snicker. No really. And not just in my head. The lovely and oh so sexy Mominatrix has asked me to guest on her radio show.
Join me LIVE August 31 at 8:00 p.m. CST as I guest on the Mominatrix radio show and spill the sexy deets about sex toys and what they mean to me. Or at least what my husband thinks of them.
The Moonwalk and It’s Power of Subtly
2007-08-30 10:58:35
Back in the days of yonder, I loved the September. It meant back to school to see old friends, clothes that actually fit before I grew out of them and of course, spanky new school supplies.
What was better than your very own bendy ruler and a sparkle pen to call your own? Perhaps that new red pencil case you convinced your mom to buy, perfect for hiding notes in the side pockets.
Not that I wrote a lot of notes in class. Snicker.
If you believe that let me tell you about how perky my chest is too.
I still love September. But for different, more grown-up reasons. My daughter and I celebrate our birthdays this month. The canopy of tree tops starts to resemble the colours of a vibrant sunset. My kids board a little yellow school bus every morning to be driven far, far away by the world’s nicest lady all before I have my first cup of coffee. And she doesn’t bring them back until almost nine hours later.
Sweet, sweet freedom.
There is one thing I passionately and intensely disl
It’s a Good Thing He Thinks I’m Cute
2007-09-25 09:55:09
The hubs was home for four whole days. A lot of liquor was consumed, more pizza than I care to admit and I did my best Gumby impersonation on more than one occasion.
Besides having some quality romantic time , Boo managed to knock a few items off my Honey Do list. Without me bitching at him. NO. REALLY. He did it all on his own. He was just so damn happy to be back at home living with his family, he would have done just about anything in gratitude to show his appreciation of us.
Well, that and the fact that he got a speeding ticket on his way home. The facker was trying to earn his salvation.
Admittedly, neither of us are the perfect spouse. But that doesn’t stop us from trying (for about two whole hours) when we see each other.
One of the items on Boo’s list of chores to accomplish before his wife’s candy store opened for business was for him to get his passport. Other items included giving me a back rub, grilling me a steak and putting his damn laundry away.
(You&r
Read more: Thing
Behind Bars
2007-09-21 11:01:38
I am a sucker for some big blue eyes. As evidenced each time I let a certain pair of blue eyes sucker me into having yet another squalling bundle of baby shit and future hostile teenager. But this time, my fondness for baby blues and the owners attached to them, delivered me not another child, but more pea brained pets.
I could handle one pet. Nixon, the World’s Greatest Dog. Ever. Four little legs and one over active bladder. Within months a year we had the bladder problem resolved. I only had to strap on a diaper a couple times. How’s that for progress?
Then, in a moment of monumental stupidity and grief-induced weakness, I brought home Abe and Lester. Otherwise known as the fucking birds. It’s been nothing but flying feathers, birdshit bombs and swooping chickens intent on plucking out my eyes ever since.
My own little Prison Break stars routinely escape to taunt poor Nixon. They sit on the edge of his food bowl, whispering words of challenge in their bird speak
Read more: Behind Bars
Let’s Do the Twist
2007-09-19 11:32:42
The hubs and I have never been on vacation together. Alone. Sure, we’ve taken weekend trips to the mountains and went camping, but we have never really had a holiday where we can kick back, relax and pretend we aren’t married. With children.
It’s been a long time coming. Yet, after ten long happy years of marriage, three kids and a mountain of debt, the time has arrived. This winter, my Boo and I are planning on jetting off to someplace warm and tropical to do absolutely nothing but drink martinis, play in the sand and do some serious people watching from underneath our palm tree.
Good times, my friends, good times.
However, a trip such as this requires planning. Boo has yet to get his passport, we are still arguing over where our actual destination may be and we haven’t even thought about where our children are going to go while we frivously cavort on some tropical beach.
As long as they’re not with us, I’m a happy girl. I mean, it’s hard to a
Season of Grief
2007-09-17 10:04:16
There are many reasons autumn used to be my very favourite time of year. The trees and their leaves, changing colours like some mystical fairy tale painting. I love watching the leaves float to the ground like little falling stars. I love breathing in the crisp autumn air and feeling the crunch of dried leaves crackle beneath my feet.
Autumn brings with it birthdays. Lots of birthdays. My grandmother (how I miss her), my brother - who turns 33 today (Happy Birthday Stretch!), my daughter and in a few days, my very own birthday. Quite a lot of cake for one month. I have many September childhood memories filled with chocolate frosting and wrapped in tissue paper..
Of course the birth of autumn brings with it the start of school. A parent’s personal celebration. What is there to not love about September?
Turns out, a lot.
These days, autumn and the months which follow, are brutal. It would be less painful if I just bent over and you all took turns kicking my ass.
Seriously. And n
Read more: Season
, Grief
Everything seems Green
2007-09-15 11:10:33
I have been busting my butt for the last few days trying to get ready for my daughter’s eleventh birthday. I’m determined to try and win the infamous Mother of the Year award. After all, as you all like to point out, one day this chicklet is going to be in charge of changing my diapers. May as well try and score some points while I can.
In honour of the big day, I have sanded, taped and painted her bedroom walls. I have hunted for appropriate bedding, throws and rugs. I have spent hours painting circles on her bedroom walls. It was painstaking. It was tedious. It was a pain in my jiggly little ass.
And it was so worth it to see her face this morning when Frac and I did the big reveal.
So it looks like her room is suffering from the measles. So what if it is so bright in there my retinas ache when I wake her up first thing in the morning. So what if her father freaks right the fack out when he gets home and sees what I’ve done to her room without any discussion wit
Read more: Everything
, Green
Starting My Next Year With a Bang
2007-09-29 12:42:48
Some birthdays are better than others. My sixteenth birthday was a lot of fun. Boo surprised me by hiding in the coat closet and when I went to get my jacket he grabbed me and delivered a kiss so steamy if my father had noticed, Boo would have been seriously injured.
My 27 birthday sucked rotten eggs as I watched my child struggle to live through a blood infection that was intent on killing him. That sucked. No amount of birthday cake or bday wishes from the cute residents could turn that birthday around. My thirtieth birthday rocked. Best birthday to date. Until my son died 24 days later. Kinda killed the whole ‘rocking my 30’s’ mojo I had going on.
So waking up to discover I was not only infected by the plague but looking and feeling like death warmed over on my 32nd birthday wasn’t really as devastating as one would think. Particularly since the hubs was absent and the only celebrating I had in mind was to curl up on the couch and watch whatever channel was
Red Devil Cake
2007-09-27 09:21:27
It’s my 32 birthday today and I woke up with an eye infection. In both eyes. I’m trying hard not to read into this and take it as an omen that this year is going to suck sweaty monkey balls. All this means is that I’m plagued by thousands of germs and in no way has any bearing on what my future holds.
Right????
As I stumbled, very bleary eyed, into my kitchen to brew some ambrosia coffee, I called my children to get their asses out of bed.
“Wake up!! It’s momma’s birthday! Come and make me some breakfast and be my little minions before I ship you off to school.”
Instead of being greeted with warm wishes and hugs from the darling creatures I gestated, delivered and have spent the last eleven years chasing after and feeding, I was greeted with horrified gasps and nervous stares.
“Ewwwww! What is the matter with your eyes? You look gross. Freaky,” muttered my son as he tried to poke at my infected eyes.
Slapping his hand away, I turne
Read more: Devil
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