Walking through life with the weight of the world upon my shoulders.

Pushing to break free from the chains of shame that bind me to my past.

To my mistakes.

To my fear.

To the constant threat of being found an impostor in my own skin.

I am not perfect.

But I will walk with shoulders back, eyes forward, chin lifted.

A silent, yet physical protest to the devils in my head,

whispering their words of guilt-inducing discouragement.

I will continue to try to live my life as I want to.

I will continue on.





Copper Top and the Grey: It’s Been A Long Time Coming

I have an announcement and a little back story. First, the back story.

When I was 17 years old, I met someone that will ALWAYS be in my life. I spent the summer after my highschool graduation essentially living on her couch. I was so much a part of that particular group of people that I had status at the apartment. The couch was my spot (much like Sheldon) and if I wanted to sit or lay down, others had to move. I slept on that couch, cried on that couch, laughed and sang and acted goofy with my friends on that couch. And I spent the majority of my time with that chic. She and I became fast friends and even though life has taken us in different directions at times, we always come back to our friendship as though no time has passed. She is the inspiration for me starting this blog. She is the inspiration for the name of this blog. And now, she is going to be a PART of this blog! <— That was supposed to be the announcement!

I want to extend an extremely warm welcome to my friend, Coppertop. She will be posting, just like me. There will be posts by us individually (We will sign our names to differentiate who wrote what: Her being the Snarky Coppertop and me being The Grey) and then there will be posts that are collaborative and there will be posts that are simply little transcripts of our conversations. We decided last night that our conversations are too ridiculous not to share, so you shall gain some insight into our little corner of crazy. Hopefully you all will cackle like crazy, as we both do.

So hopefully, in the necxt week or two, posting will become more regular again and there will be more entertaining content to enjoy and share.


The Grey

I did a thing…

and that thing was contribute to an anthology of essays for a book. It was finally published and printed. Here is the link to it

The Goddess in America

That is for the e-book. You can get it in print as well. I did. And it is Prime eligible.

If you are interested in different cultures, religions, and feminist opinions, I suggest you read this. I loved writing my piece for it and I am so excited to read the rest of the book.

My piece is called, “From Marilyn to Maleficient, Pop Goes the Goddess”

I hope y’all enjoy it!

The Polite Assassin

“Terribly sorry. Won’t be but a moment.” I shook my head at my mistake. My hand wasn’t as steady as it should have been when I pulled the trigger. A tiny little tremor was enough to displace the bullet from it’s intended bulls eye, hitting the mark in the shoulder rather than in the head, like I had intended. Too much caffeine today, I suppose.

Cries of pain and angry cursing filled my ears as I advanced towards the mark. He was an older man. Silver hair. Bronzed skin- most likely a boaters tan. Well groomed and even better dressed. Money. My assignment wasn’t simple. Meet this man. Get him alone. Kill him. Take a picture with a throw away cell phone, send it to an anonymous email, and then the money would be in my off shore account. It was getting him alone that proved difficult. He, lets call him Frank…Frank was cagey. A well known player in the local underworld, mob run and deadly dangerous if you crossed him. But Frank also had an eye for a beautiful woman. And in my business, beautiful hit women that are able to remain anonymous are few and far between. So that was my “in”.

I met Frank at a local night club known for mob ties. I’d watched him visit that place for well over a month. I like to take my time with assignments. Measure twice, cut once my dad always said. No room for mistakes that way. I sighed again, recalling that saying as I readjusted the grip on my pistol. I checked the silencer. Made sure my aim was true. Frank stopped moving and went silent, looked at me with surprise, and then started to advance.

“Terribly sorry, Frank. It’s nothing personal. Just business.” I squeezed the trigger gently, twice. A double tap to the head. If anything, I always make sure I am polite when I kill someone. Nothing messy or disrespectful. Not my style, you know. I grew up in the South and us Southern girls are raised on good manners and sweet tea. Not that Frank cared abut my politeness. All night his hands had been all over my body, groping and grabbing, claiming his ownership, if only for the night. I had tolerated his touch if only to get him alone. The club was dark. No one knew me there. The lights were flashing, loud music pulsing, and the crowd was focused on that pulse. They moved as though their heart beat in tandem. As long as I let him keep his hands on me, I could lead him closer to the exit, closer to my goal. If he saw the door and noticed I didn’t move his hand off my ass, he would think of sex and that door would get him closer to it. That desire for sex would lead to us going to his place. And he met all my expectations. So predictable. And now he was dead. I smiled and snapped several photos of him, sent the email, and waited for the return with the transfer confirmation.

Now the messy task of clean up. I looked up the contact, dialed the numbers, and waited.

“Yeah.” A gruff male voice answered.

“Bones. I got an assignment for you.” I gave him the address, wired money to his account, and left.

I pulled off the wig, took my dress off and turned it inside out, reversing the color and changing the pattern completely. Stuffing the wig into my bag, I put on my dress, added gloves to my ensemble and left. No need for me to leave any extra prints. Bones and his guys were always thorough, but I didn’t like to take risks.

The phone buzzed in my hand. I looked and the confirmation of the money transfer blinked onto the screen. A low purr of satisfaction escaped my throat. A nice sum for this man. $500,000. He must have made someone *very* angry. No matter to me. I took the battery out of the phone, threw it away in a public garbage can. I removed the sd card and burned it. Then I smashed the phone and threw it in the river. There would be no trace of that phone ever again.  I made my way to my safe house. Time to hole up again, count my money, and research my next mark. Another mobster, but this time in London. It had been a while since I’d been in London. Maybe this time I could actually go sight seeing.

Being a hit women is a solitary life. But for what I lack in personal relationships, I make up for in the politeness I show everyone I come across. Good manners. I may be there to kill you, but at least I treated you with dignity and showed you courtesy in the end.

It is, of course, the least I can do.