I ain’t no Bible beater!

Posted in Uncategorized on February 12, 2017 by Veronica Graham

Are readers still going to find my blog interesting? I’m talking more about being a mom and the almighty Hey-Zeus, that’s interesting, right?  I’m back and in the middle of the classic journey of a ho turnin’ to Hey-Zeus. It’s so funny to me. It really is. How does a dirty little bitty go from writing about straddling…. To talking about parenting and the Bible? Not really sure, it’s so like me though. I feel like a rubber band trying to snap back and be relevant and relatable, we shall see.

I just finished reading a moms post who just started a blog and is begging for readers. ‘It would be so awesome to have some visitors!’ Seriously, come on. You can’t make people read shit about your life, no one fucking cares, it’s hard enough to keep a friend let alone someone interested in your perspective. What are your motives? Are you worried about stats? Hoping to go viral? We all are bitch, we all are.

During the peak of my writing, I stopped. Why? Because someone strongly suggested that my journey was over once the year was up. I agreed, being the good little friend I thought I was supposed to be and tried to help this friend produce her “genius script” into a film. I was convinced I owed her. I gave all I could, literally, had a couple of mental lapses during pre-production and paid the price for going against my gut. It was never going to work because the lack of funding was a huge issue, but we tried and man did this betch have the best manipulation tactics I’ve ever been privy to be tangled in. Guess who the friend was? And guess who she got to fund the film after our go at it failed, SOMEONE ELSE. Poor soul probably has no money now, ah well, that’s what happens when you get fucked by a black widow. Literally and Figuratively.

I write. Why? Because it fucking calms the brain, and being Veronica Graham is awesome. She doesn’t let shit keep her down, she keeps on trying, she is a fighter-slayer of fakeness. I still remember how wide eye Kimmie got when she saw how much people liked my ridiculousness. Her idea to exploit my shit online gained a lot more attention than that star-crazed little betch wanted. Looking back on our friendship is like looking back on a relationship without sex. I was like her little dog, and she was able to hide behind my weaknesses, outbursts, and cash in on the benefits of being the “good one”.

Come to think of it,  February 14, 2013, was the day I moved out of the apartment we shared with that other chick. Oh, how sweet betrayal is from a Taurus! If you’re a Taurus don’t read my blog. They’re the most beautiful soul-sucking humans I’ve ever met. Sure, there might be one or two that are ok, but their smooth exterior and humble disposition is a load of fucking shit. They want two things, fame, and all your money. If a Taurus is in your life go and check how much money you had before you met them, it’s safe to say that they found a way to insert themselves into your life so that you feel you owe the beautiful disaster your Benjamins’

I wiped the snot-nosed tears away from my face about SG’s expectancy and started doing crunches. My options were limited it was either get back in shape and finish reading the Bible or shave my head and get fat. I’ve been letting my glorious hair grow out from a hideous mom bob I got from a scissor happy stylist in the South.  I’m now in the book of Ecclesiastes. Surprisingly, Ecclesiastes is more my style. The first paragraph of the NIV Version, ‘Everything is Meaningless’ -very dark and fatalistic, love it.

Ironically, Kimmie and Southern Gentleman gave me the two greatest gifts… A bible and a baby- and then walked away. HA! How sweet the gift of the betrayers turned out to be! Naturally, I am still angry with both of them- I am a Scorpio. Kimmie never showed up at a lawyers office for our business dispute that happened on October 22, 2012 -Her no-show spoke volumes about how much respect she had for me.  She had about as much respect for me as people who don’t pick up their dogs shit in a beautiful park.

As for my sweet Southern Gentleman, his choice to start a family with a bumpkin from Alabama and neglect his responsibilities to his firstborn still baffles me. 

Aww, Fuck it.

Trust in Me

Posted in Uncategorized on February 10, 2017 by Veronica Graham

‘Trust in me, close your eyes, you’re safe now that I’m around’ Too many snakes out here… Too many fucked up people waiting for me to snap. Gotta stay positive but it’s like trying to walk out of a tar pit. I fucking can’t seem to catch a break. It’s two steps forward and 10 back.  I’m suffocating over here. Between family shit, money problems, looking for other professional options, selling shit for money-it’s too much. Not sure where God is or why I even bother praying. Really feeling the weight of the world and I’m so close to gaining independence but my setbacks are happening way to frequently. I’m choking up left and right, tears of frustration.

It’s almost Valentines Day, eating shitty candy from CVS and sending people gifts with hearts and tokens of love is what it’s all about…Cupid came to my home early this year. He shot an arrow laced with cyanide straight to my heart. Southern Gentlemen is expecting a child with his new girlfriend in May. That is the same month that my little cherub was born. My cherub hasn’t seen his father in a long time. No cards, no gifts, no calls, no nothing. Even when we lived in the South, he rarely made time for visits.  Little one will be three in May and he’s been telling me in a cute little voice ‘I go to Georgia, Daddy working.’ I’ve been getting asked questions about Daddy a lot lately. Honestly, I didn’t expect my baby to start asking where his dad is at such a young age. I don’t think it would be a good idea to say ‘Daddy is a piece of shit who bailed on us, chose partying over us, rejected rehab and is starting a new family with someone else.’

Hopefully, I will be chill enough to speak the truth to him when he’s older in a loving and respectful way. Now, I just smile and say ‘Daddy loves you very much and will come visit when he’s done working.’ No one preps you for things like this and I know how the hate between parents feels so I really don’t say mean things about Daddy at all. I don’t want to spew hate because I still have hope that he will show up for our kid. He broke my heart, but honestly who hasn’t.

I never thought I could feel heartbroken for my child. I thought people just said that shit. I have a very healthy, active, and extremely smart child. If you met the little tike, even if you didn’t like kids, your heart would melt. I’ve never been able to understand how SG’s been able to just bail out. I held on for so long near him and continue too from a distance. I would give him pep talks about life- Even suggested he move to the DMV, rent a room, get a new job, possibly model in NYC, or become a barista—Anything as to not miss out on this awesome kid growing up. For me, coming back to the DMV was the best overall choice for and I am doing better, not great but better than what I was in Georgia to try to support a home.

Aside from the fact that I’m flat out crushed, I was planning to make enough money to take little one on a trip to see Daddy this summer- Just be the awesome mom who makes dreams come true and doesn’t let personal feelings get in the way of anything. You know, try to be the bigger person, try not to be a shitty, selfish mom. Try to give little buddy time with his dad even if only for a couple days. I kept getting blown off by SG after we moved back to Virginia. I  thought if I stopped antagonizing him, stopped bitchin’ about money, stopped with all the baby mama drama-things would get better. Maybe he’d help out or realize that home is where his child is. My silence didn’t change a damn thing.

I’m so teary eyed- My brain has so many memories surfacing like a montage. I can never forget the few good times I witnessed between the two of them and when it was the three of us. It can never go back to that and I don’t know when I’ll be able to face SG again, I won’t be able to make the trip this summer. It was picture perfect for a moment in time for all of us and I am up to my neck in stress, drenched in tears and have a very heavy heart. His choice changes so many things, I’ve yet to process all of it. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me that needs to be done to keep a stable and safe home for my sweet angel, emotionally and financially.

—-Don’t be the person who misses out on their child growing up. They’re only little and only yours for a short while.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s a SWB!

Posted in Uncategorized on February 9, 2017 by Veronica Graham

My sidekick and I packed lunch, the stroller, and toys for our morning adventure- When I’m not working we both spend most of our time outdoors- in any temperature. Usually when the weather is warmer The ‘Super White Betches’ come out of hiding. A ‘Super White Betch’ is a woman trapped in a high-school mentality with a blinding honker of a diamond on her left hand, a (insert trending brand name) multi-purpose coat and jet black sunglasses to cover alcohol-induced bloodshot eyes? Today they were swarming the playground with their clones-It’s so uncomfortable to be around these types of women. Being that I am white it doesn’t do me any good. I’m not the right type of white.

It’s easy to tell when you’re in the presence of an SWB because you can feel their beady little eyes judging your ringless hand. They have a keen sense for knowing the difference between gel polish by Sally Hansen and OPI on a self-done manicure. Also, they’re known for having laser vision when spotting the impoverished and it causes them to sneer autonomically. I assume, most have a mediocre husband to rely on that pays for much-needed sun damage relief microdermabrasion treatments.

It’s truly remarkable, these creatures of the day are a sight to see- Saying ‘Hi’ or smiling works with other mothers but not an SWB. They kind of look at you with a questionable “Do I know you?” or this is my favorite…If you get too close to one they dart to the other side of the playground when they’re on a group ‘invite only’ play date. They usually travel in packs because it’s easier for them to adjust to those who wear leggings in public. Being a mom is a lot of work and being a wealthy SWB mommy must be really, really exhausting (insert condescending snort laugh).

It’s not easy to get a kid away from the playground and little brawls happen more often when these little tikes get older. Laughter can turn into a mini-disaster so quickly with kids. One of the Super White Betches kids took a swing towards mine and I was there to intercede with pearls of wisdom with a direct command “We don’t hit”.  Simple and convincing. Not rocket science. No explanation, no detailed statement. It was effective and they were able to shake it off and play a little longer. High five me! Super White Bethces tend to give long detailed explanations when its time to lay down the law. It never works. The kid only gets more frustrated and has a meltdown. Short, simple commands go a long way, just saying.

I get that children are learning boundaries and that no parent is perfect but it’s painful to watch an SWB completely ignore that their kid needs an adjustment or quick-witted lesson. Usually, their sipping coffee, talking to someone and scrolling through their phones when disaster strikes. They have a way of ignoring everything around them. It’s kinda sad. There is a fine line between being ‘just kids’ and being a rude little shit. If no one is setting limits in the moment than it becomes a behavior, right?

Parenting is about being present, not sitting on the sidelines looking like a Bia’ Bia’ (get ’em up, get ’em up).

Your call has been forwarded to an…

Posted in Uncategorized on January 23, 2017 by Veronica Graham

Visualize a painting of a person standing on the edge of a cliff, many hands are grabbing and reaching toward them-not just any hands but hands that are made of silver and gold. You would notice that each hand represents a repressed vision, dream, or realization. Threads labeled ‘jealousy’ attach the hands together forming a net. The hands viscously grab the person and some hands have broken through, climbing over one another to dig into the person again and again. You would see a hand that is bigger than the rest. That hand, using only its index and middle finger has pierced the side of the person causing them to bleed profusely-written on its talons are ‘deceit’ and ‘love’. The person on the cliff is looking down to the hand noticing how effortlessly it may cause their death. Tears billow in the eyes of this person, their mouth is stapled shut and emotionally are unable to move away from the snares of the helping hands. Above the person is an array of cherubs with scrolls of the unknown waiting for the person to take a much-needed jump.

Guess who the person represents.

Hindsight is always 20/20-  It’s hard for me to understand what I really don’t want to see when it comes to family relations; if you were a fly on the wall in certain family conversations of mine-you’d probably intentionally fly into one of those hanging tape rolls. I was conditioned to believe that my feelings don’t matter at a young age- that my judgement was skewed, dreams were attainable for others and that my existence was a nuisance. I had three very active parents in my life- Three people to shape and mold my foundation that get very defensive when I speak on my upbringing. I had nice moments, yes, but feelings of love and acceptance, never.  For years I was table talk- ‘eh, she’ll survive,’ ‘she’s not good in school anyway’, ‘she’s a fighter’, ‘she likes drama’, ‘she sure has a mouth on her’, ‘she should be happy her father took her in’, ‘ugh, what a spoiled brat…‘ I was tainted goods within the walls of my own family well before Kimmie discovered my unconscious cry for help.

Family matters are the nucleus of so many of my attachment issues and childlike tendencies. When I found out that my borderline diagnosis was a behavioral disorder that could be reversed versus a chemical imbalance that required constant medication I was relieved; nature vs. nurture applied to my case. Thankfully, I am no longer an active Borderline. Basically, I snapped in 96- added alcohol and drugs to an already disturbed mind and was ‘off to the races’. Fortunately, I started to get a grip around age 27 or 28, instead of ending up in a casket.

I’ve never given myself a chance to heal from my upbringing because the truth is scary and I had to get through the damage from all the lovely men I slept with first. Yeeesh! I turned to drinking and drugs at a very young age because it was the only way I was able to cope with the negative vibes within my family walls. It wasn’t just me experiencing it like others I knew, it was how I survived.

As a youngin I felt I had to place the weight of my world on other peoples shoulders. My family was emotionally unavailable and my meltdowns were too much for anyone to handle. I can understand how confusing it must have been to those who tried to help me since the appearance of my life seemed so ‘white privledge-ish’. Trust me, I was fucking confused too and wondered why things just kept getting worse.

I have a tendency to fall back into the helping hands way too often and bad relationships have added to many financial hardships. You don’t have to get married to lose all your money-Just find a soul sucking energy vampire that looks friendly. At times, I feel that I should be more grateful, more compliant, more open to what a helping hand has to say but then its like, nawwwwww. For fuck sake, it’s all so clear in these goddamn truth goggles! Isn’t an entire life of struggle enough? OR should I keep on teetering the line of poverty until I’m a senior citizen- just keep being a fucking victim of circumstance and at the mercy of tainted love? I can work through daily challenges much faster alone so I keep my distance from those I don’t feel kosher around. Keeping my distance is necessary yet extremely difficult- Why?

I was conditioned to believe that my feelings don’t matter and whatever I say is hogwash or me just being dramatic… Finding a way to earn more income and break this cycle of running back to helping hands when the going gets tough is a must. It’s expected of me to wallow in my own shit and then cry for help, because that’s what victims do but what if I can break the cycle this time? What if I try just a little harder to make it on my own? Then what? 

–According to Joseph Prince (I accidentally became a fan of his teachings-he seems authentic) A child will be humbled by society, teachers and friends. It is a parents duty to be the one to lift their spirit up; not curse them. The literal translation of curse means to speak down.


Losing my Religion

Posted in Uncategorized on January 16, 2017 by Veronica Graham

Fuck these bitches, on the real, everyone is an artist and everyone is a jack of all trades in entertainment. It’s getting pretty tough out here and my recommendation is to be about it in this biz. Too many tarts are trying to sell the idea of themselves. No one really cares about what you say you’re going to do, trust me, I know.

Let people compliment your work, stop searching for acceptance for an idea. Let your work speak for itself. All this blatant ego centered-full of shit-wanna be a star- but really don’t have the balls to take a couple hits?  Sit your ass down and get to work…It reveals so much about your inner spirit.

Anywayz—Nobody believes in Jesus until a demon from the 9th gate possesses their ass. Honestly, if I was God, I wouldn’t help you. After working in true crime TV and having a few gigs on possession-type TV shows, I believe that spirits exist. A lot of shows start where this creepy looking dude buys a house- A spirit sings louder than him while he is in the shower- The guy is filled with doubt and calls a friend, that friend is eager to contact the spirit; the friend recommends a paranormal advisor that they know- The paranormal team gets freaked out and calls the catholic dude with the cross for help. My question is- Why do people doubt that good and evil exist? When did the shallow side of all of us take over? Are we all doomed?

I am still in the book of Psalms and I have read a couple passages about praying to God for protection from the dark side; those who seek the light will find it and those who seek darkness will find it. Death, Life, what is the underlying meaning? I have a hunch that we are vessels that are naturally attracted to either side. I am still very new in my bible journey so don’t get all shitty on me. Yes, you, the reader. I have had some pretty raw experiences in my life and I believe that at one point I was empty and susceptible to anything. Not just emotionally, but spiritually.

‘From my youth, I have been afflicted and close to death; I have suffered your terrors and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.’ I felt that when I read it. Something inside of me recognized what the writer was saying. Also, don’t expect me to give you the verse and chapter. My advice, find out yourself. I prefer the NIV, just saying.

Have you ever been next to someone who just feels like a shell? Like, they look human but something is just off about them? They seem to be overly clingy and distant at the same time. They’re game for anything and just can’t seem to be at ease. Carefree to a fault. It’s almost creepy, like someone who doesn’t have any clear ideas and is just a wanderer… I was like that. Easy to sway, easy to mold. Just a person who would take anything that came my way. I feel very confident in my existence these days. I feel a little more at peace with my spirit man and living a life that is free from addiction is cool as shit. It’s like I have these truth goggles on and I love it. I am very aware and connected to my higher power, whom by the way is not a lamp post or a unicorn that pops molly.

Not much else to say today, just wanted to tell you guys to find a way to feed your inner man. Stop settling for a couple likes and comments. ‘When you bleed just to know your alive’ –a clear sign that your spirit man is lacking fuel. A shell no matter how beautiful is just a shell.

Keep searching and keep your head up.





Where do the Children Play?

Posted in Uncategorized on December 31, 2016 by Veronica Graham

Cat Stevens was on to something when the song titled ‘Where do the children play?’made airwaves. The looks, the sneers, the absolute disgust people give toward children is running wild in these streets.  Somehow a dog has higher regard than a child and it’s frightening.

My kiddo and I made a pit stop to the local star-crack and it was a pretty shitty experience. The atmosphere was filled with negative energy and no smiles; just faces tucked away in corners, dressed in dull colors scrolling through their dopamine enhancers-aka cell phones. I ordered my coffee and a hot tea, of course, as per me, I didn’t give the proper titling to a tea blend. Big NO-NO in a star-crack and I was quickly told the star-crack way to ask for a tea. My toddler looked up and shouts”HI!” to one of the crack makers, no response. Kiddo shouts again “HI! “and still no response. People start surrounding the waiting area and literally become irritated that a kid is in their eye-line, and God forbid laughing and twirling around. In my not so subtle way, I tell my little one that some people are grouchy and coffee can’t fix it. Kiddo says “OK!” in the cutest way and starts eating a pumpkin loaf.

As a mom, I hardly relate to the old version of me and it’s a little scary. I still look about the same but my thoughts are very different. These first years of a child’s life are super important. It’s up to the parent to create a relationship of trust, create healthy boundaries, establish routines, allow them to identify with family and friends, learn to read, eat, walk, talk and more.

It’s a lot of pressure but when you’re only a child for a short while it seems fitting that I am sleep deprived and working overtime to set a solid foundation for my little one. I cringe more and more each day when I see another consumer-friendly shop or a god damn day spa/ bakery for dogs appear. The children are our future-not a fucking dog in a sweater or a cat that can shit in a toilet. Honestly, I would like to see future investments being made to stop child abuse and more facilities to help the working parent. Investors should set up local pop-ups for abuse awareness and catered events for parents to attend who need guidance or just a few minutes to relax. Single parents are sweeping the nation, ok, so let’s capitalize on it. Mmmmkay…. how about Star-cracks can open up a wifi friendly child arena; not just set up shops in grocery stores and malls. Maybe places like Crap-olte and Mc-Shitty’s can merge and create the ultimate community center for families and sell their food in it?!

Even my apartment complex caters to dogs! We have a fucking dog biscuit bowel in the lobby that never runs dry and what was once beautiful landscaping looks more like a minefield of dog shit. I actually have to ask my kid to KEEP OFF THE GRASS, real talk.

I read an article about a year ago about how a family staged and executed the kidnapping of their 6 year old son, claiming he was ‘too nice’ and needed to be taught how awful the world is-It’s daily news to hear stories of people who leave their children in hot cars, beat them, sexually abuse them, talk down to them and so on. I recently spoke with a nurse who worked in ER and she willingly told me what she sees on a daily basis and it’s cruel. Parents aren’t educated and children are being mistreated way too often.  

In my not so humble opinion, if anyone saw or suspected someone treated an animal in a harsh way they would sound the fucking alarms!!! Call PETA, address the media, start a ‘Save The Fucking Mangy Cat’ program and burn that person on social media, permanently. Why do we choose to turn the cheek when it’s one of our own? A human, a soon to be active member of society, a future taxpayer, a future congressperson or teacher.

When will we start treating young children with compassion? Even the god damn restaurants are hosting dog-happy-hour parties to bring in revenue?! Some restaurants do offer free meals on certain days to kids and always have crayons in stock; I am grateful for those chains. However, I really don’t want to see a future geared towards a dogs happiness any longer. I want to see a future and a collective effort from those with bottomless bank accounts to create more environments and host more events geared toward the success of children. The children are the future and deserve much more than a slap on the wrist for being loud, a ‘Ssshhh’ in a restaurant for having a natural emotion-aka tantrum, or an electronic device plopped into their lap because a hard working parent just needs a break.



Fuck Happiness. Claim Joy.

Posted in Uncategorized on December 11, 2016 by Veronica Graham

Sipping the best damn dark roast in my favorite local independent coffee shop…It’s amazing this spot still exists. I love this place. Always have. I got really sick the other day, the kind of sick that scares you into the ER. The kind that momentarily knocks the wind out of your sails in the most powerful way, stopping you dead in your tracks. Helpless and unable to control the outcome of your day kinda sick.

I am a single parent and wear that badge of courage with pride. However, I needed help that day, and without the energy to take my love bug to school so that I could get help; I reached out to my step-monster ahem step-mum.

In a frantic tone,  I asked her to please come over. She was at my place within minutes of canceling all of her appointments. She dropped me off at the hospital, asked me not to worry and would be back soon… Or would she? After being temporarily pumped with saline and discharged, I saw my father standing outside on a business call. I knew it was him because he is the only person in the world whose voice is louder than mine. He sounded like he had won whatever deal was being negotiated, it was easy to spot him.

Within seconds my step-mum pulls up in my car, with a full tank of gas (it was in danger zone when she arrived at my place) and a very happy kid. My little one was chanting “GRANPA! GRANPA! GRANPA!” , fighting off chicken nugget sauce being flicked at his snazzy suit while trying to cram into the back seat. I take shotgun next to the not-so-evil-step-monster and see my special request sundae sitting in a cup holder, three bites in, I realized it was a bad choice. Step-mum is talking to all of us an no one seems to be listening. In my defense, I earned a free pass for the day. I felt like death and my hair, oh god. I can’t even explain it.

The charade continues on the way to CVS. My dad is now negotiating with a 2.5-year-old. My step-mum is struggling to park the car and I am about to barf, again. I quickly drop off my prescription and head to the public bathroom, no joke. My dad grabs vitamin waters, my medication and we are in the clear for a swift exit, or so we thought.

Step-mumster is walking outside the shopping center with a toddler whose maxed out of chillness. I see her with the 3-foot tall dictator and it doesn’t look good, for her that is. As she picks him up and hurries back to the car she and my dad are greeted by an overzealous Pleasantville neighbor that seems to have appeared out of thin air. As per Pleasantville code, she and my dad are polite, to a fault. It was starting to feel like a Chevy Chase film kind of sick day. When we finally gather back into my small economy sized car we just sat and argued.

I was able to ignore the noise long enough to notice the ladybug that landed on my passenger side window, right where I was sitting. My relationship with God grew in the Bible Belt. Go figure and I hadn’t seen a ladybug in 6 months. I was incredibly relieved when it appeared. To me, it’s a good omen and allows me to feel connected to the universe. I was eye to eye with the bug before my step-mumster saw it too. Feeling momentarily blessed, we eventually get to my place. My dad’s car was still at the hospital and my step-mums car was at my place, seems like an easy transition, right? Nope. Step-mumster left her keys at home.  

Learning to live in the present, literally one moment at a time is becoming less of a chore and my controlling tendencies are lifting, slowly. Maybe the pathological liar from previous entries was right about a thing or two. He had suggested over copious amounts of wine that I stop trying to control everything. That I should truly consider the art of letting go. No one is perfect and in my “inspired” opinion happiness doesn’t really exist. It’s not the same as claiming joy. Had I not lived in Georgia I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the stillness inside of me and claim my day to day joys.

I stopped battling within the pages of my mistakes and started to take other peoples “inspired” opinions with a grain of salt. I can claim joy when washing dishes because I have food to eat and a little person whom I love dearly, to cook for. Had I known how to recognize this learned practice I could have appreciated the people and jobs of my past a little bit easier…Hmm maybe not.

The smells of this coffee shop are actually uplifting. The people chatting let me know that I am not alone, the chill of the cool winter air breaking my comfort each time the door opens is riveting (yes, I used the word riveting), the smell of newspaper, the sound of instrumental music, the feeling of the sun from the back corner window-its reflection hitting the guys phone sitting next to me at the perfect angle to blind me momentarily is kinda lovely.

The obvious homeless woman enjoying a slice of apple pie, sitting directly across from me at a common table is part of what makes life beautiful. She has something that has taken me a long time to find. Appreciation for what is; Not what was or what could be but what is. Little moments that collect into a day make it more interesting than the day before. In my inspired opinion, all of these moments add up to a joyful life.

–Wishing you all inner peace this Holiday season… Even if you can’t find it in the bottom of the eggnog bowl. One day a time. By the way, no more photos will be added to the blog, not trying to get sued over a shitty stock image.