I’m not your lunch. You’re mine.

I'm not your lunch. You're mine.When I first started out publishing, I ran into about three people who turned into serious Misery cases.  They left nasty voicemails, insulted me at every turn, and caused so much trouble that I felt like quitting.

Something happened between all that though–I got tired, and I began to sharpen my teeth for the next idiot who happened along.

Sometimes bloggers get people who pursue them relentlessly to the point where they have to muster everything in their willpower to just ignore what ugly, rude messages they’re getting.  Me?  I’m past the tolerance point and will be extremely ugly in return.

So.  If you ever feel the need to contact me through personal social network venues in the name of riling me up, just know that’s going to put me in hoodrat mode.

I will get ugly.

I will curse you out.

I will make you sorry.

And it will feel good to me, because I’m still that person who writes about the dark side of human nature, and some of that comes from my own personality.

Don’t be my punching bag.


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