Outing the molester at his church…win or epic fail?

10,000 additional hits since yesterday…wow…

I don’t know what to say…I suppose thank you would be a good start…I’ve received so many comments and emails and Facebook messages…you all have reposted for me (for these nameless, faceless children…they thank you).

So one of the comments said my initial blogs were fantastic (not bad for this math geek, left brainer–didn’t even think I had a right brain til about 3 weeks ago!)…but then the comment went on to say that my blogs were getting boring…OUCH…my first slap in the face…reality check…right brain learning curve…hello…apparently, I need to pull sheer genius out of my ass every time I write…On it…LOVE A CHALLENGE!

A good friend of mine told me not to write everyday…”only when you feel something,” he said. So much going on in my brain that I could probably write 3 or 4 blogs a day…I have A.D.D. And, no I don’t take any pills for it. And, no, I wasn’t diagnosed for it. We didn’t do that in the 70’s. We just shut the fuck up and did what we were told. PAY ATTENTION OR THE PADDLE COMES OUT! That did it for me! But now, you call my children’s pediatrician and one of the prompts (and I kid you not) says, “press 8 to refill your child’s ADD medication.” I’m sorry. What? Press 8. It’s an actual prompt? You’ve got to be kidding.

Back to my self diagnosis of ADD…I could ask my doctor for some ADD medicine, but the last thing I need is something to accelerate my energy. Hell, my hockey teammates call me the energizer bunny. I don’t ever stop. I’m the queen of trash goals…yep…I keep poking and prodding til that damn puck goes in the net…they hate me at those women’s over 40 tournaments in Florida (and, btw, we have won the national championship twice–yep!). This crazy whack job, mother, blogger is hell on ice and the football field…played in the WPFL–that’s the Women’s Professional Football League–in case you didn’t know. Yep. 30 years old and I got to fulfil a dream of kicking footballs in a women’s tackle football league. And, no, I’m not a lesbian (not that I have an issue with it–it’s just a stereotype in women’s sports–especially contact sports). Never have been–much to the dismay of some of my teammates! I just love to take people out. Tennis? Golf? WAY too passive…if I can’t take someone out, I’m not interested!

Ok…I do have a story to tell in this blog today…wouldn’t be my blog if I didn’t shock someone with another fucked up story from my family. About 15 years ago, after the molester said my 8 month old’s haircut was sexy, I was PISSED. My idiot of a mother couldn’t believe I was so upset about such a careless comment. I cut her off. But when I felt sad for her (yes…somehow, someway, I was able to have some compassion for my mother. And believe me, I didn’t learn it from her!) missing out on her grandchildren, I decided to let her visit my children. WITHOUT HIM. FINALLY. I GREW A PAIR. MY KIDS. MY RULES. But I still wanted him gone. I thought to myself, how am I going to get through to this woman? What can I do to get her to leave him. Why I’m still trying, I have no fucking idea…so….I thought, I’ll call the minister of their church and tell the church about the molester. She will be so shamed that she will have no other choice but to leave him.

I’m sure you know where this is going…

I was in my car on my cell telling the minister that he was a child molester and that I knew he was volunteering at the church. I felt it was my duty to let them know that a known child molester was amongst their parishioners. And that he SHOULD NOT BE AROUND ANY CHILDREN.

BAM!!! Put a check in the win column!!!!

I just outed the molester. Celebratory dance commencing (I don’t really dance–think Elaine in Seinfeld…not a good look…)

So… What happened? Did I celebrate too soon? Ummmm….YEP….

The minister’s response shocked me. He said that I was an angry person and that I should seek help for my anger. Perhaps God could help me. Furthermore, I wasn’t angry at my mother but more the sexual act that occurred so many years ago. He said “J” was a good man and a good volunteer and the church valued him and my mother for their dedicated service to the church. As I’ve said so many times in this blog, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” I just told you that you have a known pedophile amongst your parishioners and you tell me I’m angry. Can you say EPIC FAIL? Clearly, I’m an idiot. I can’t talk sense into anyone. WHAT PLANET ARE THESE PEOPLE FROM? So, they continued to enjoy their dedicated service to the church and I never took my children back there.

Well…one should never say never. We went back one final day. For his funeral. Watching my mother mourn for him was WAY more than I could bare (that’s a story for another day–like I said, there are so many!)

Was so good to be back in the church I grew up in…

Please tell me you detected that sarcasm….

Some things just comes naturally for me…

Please…just STOP….

February 20, 2015

So, now, that I have asked all the child molesters to stand up in church and own up to sticking your dick where it doesn’t belong, I’m now going to make this very uncomfortable for them. For me. For you, the reader. I hope out of the 40,000 hits I’ve had since writing this that a child molester has actually read this. You know who you are. You’re one sick fuck. So just stop. Please. Get help.

For some reason or another, my molester stopped when we moved from Kentucky to Texas. Thank God. His perverted comments didn’t but me having to get on all fours while he ejaculated all over me did stop. I have no idea why he stopped. Thank GOD!!!

If I can get one child molester to stop doing what he’s doing, then I will have won. And, I’m very competitive and love to win. So….

Just stop. It’s not worth it. Spare the little girl. From this point forward. Please. You owe it to her and yourself and everyone around you to JUST STOP.