The Second Apocaversary

Happy Apocaversary everyone! Can you believe it’s been two years since I created a very serious and apparently expensive issue in the Government of the State of Nevada? I have always loved creating a minor ruckus amongst the government types. This one, of course, ended very badly for several people, and the majority of them were completely unintentional.

Honestly, the only one I ever thought would be affected was Ginger Pubes. (That, by the way, was my nickname for him.) Carpet does not match the drapes, for certain. Like a little leprechaun in pants. Gotta love the Irish. I’m Black Irish myself, so we are a little different. It’s raping and pillaging by the Italians—that’s Black Irish. What I always say about the Irish is that we will either fuck you or fight you—sometimes both.

Sorry, where was I? So as the Apocaversary traditions continue, obviously I needed to do something to celebrate. I myself couldn’t afford to go to Mexico, which—as an aside—what a truly bizarre time for them to go on vacation to celebrate. That’s not fucking weird.

Given it’s a weekend and a holiday, the Apocaversary celebration begins tomorrow. We have the party prepared. Emails are drafted and dossiers complete. So, as you probably guessed, tomorrow will be Dossier Day.

This should be entertaining for me at a minimum. Will anything come of it? No idea. It could. It could get caught in spam filters. It could also be ignored and tossed aside. But goddamn, I don’t actually care how many hours and how many emails I have (and it’s a fucking lot). If they’re not going to change his ass because they didn’t want these specific people finding this out, that is exactly what I’m going to do. I’m truly petty like that.

Ain’t public records a bitch?

And I have to mention this: The records that push this over the edge came from Joe Lombardo’s office. For the non-Nevadans, Lombardo is our governor—he’s up against AG Aaron Ford for governor in November. The records I got were an accident. I’ll just leave that right there.

Guys, from what I have heard from those in the know, this is a case that everyone knows about and talks about, but no one “knows” about it. It’s part of Nevada political mythology at this point, apparently.

Strangely, people at national news outlets know about this. What I heard was a friend was talking to a friend at a national outlet, and they were telling this person about my story. The person goes, “Wait, that’s real? Seriously, we didn’t think it was real because no one had picked it up.”

Of course the local outlets won’t touch it because they call me crazy, and no one notices that their claims are unsubstantiated and false.

So I’m never going to get press. But everyone knows about it. Like everyone and their dog.

That just means I have to do it the hard way. One email at a time. And I am pissed off enough at this point to take all the necessary steps to make sure it gets to every lawyer for every insurance company. The First Amendment has me covered. And FYI for the lawyers in the room: yeah, I’m not putting the name in the email. The records, however, are public records as redacted by the states of Nevada and Vermont.

Best of luck if you think there is something you can do with that.

And guys, there is one very, very naughty little insurance outfit out there who paid a lot of fines. They definitely would want this information, for certain. And this place and I have—let’s call it—a mutual friend. They get a special one with a couple extra documents, all legal and public.

Happy Second Apocaversary, kids.

PS: This is a little bit of a second post. This was a maniacal plan of mine one night while {D} and I were still together that I regret not doing. I just thought it would be fun to tell him how lucky he was that I had enough respect for him not to go through his phone (unlike some people) and turn his life seventeen ways to Sunday. In hindsight, fuck him—this would have been so much damn fun.

It’s 3 a.m. and I am staring at this palm tree painting in his bathroom. He had proudly told me some ex-girlfriend had painted it for him because she knew he loved palm trees. The date on it was 2022. That was the year when he told me he would never see me again because he was in a relationship and it was getting serious. This was, of course, after he had told me he didn’t want a relationship.

That was a major moment in my life, actually. My self-esteem went to hell when he said that to me. Like I wasn’t good enough. It had very little to do with him per se, just my self-esteem took a serious hit. It literally changed me, and I was a lot less confident on dates. It just was what it was. It affected me deeply. Anyone could have done that, and it really had nothing to do with feelings for him or anything. Just another time I didn’t get picked. And I never have been the one that gets picked in anything in my life.

So that date bothered me to no end. I stared at it. And I was thinking about throwing it off the balcony. Thought better of it. Then the thought turned to the trash chute. Deep breath and thought better of it.

Then it hit me. I knew the password to his phone. I had watched him type it in a million times. I had it memorized by day three. At any point in time I could have gone through his phone. He was literally passed out drunk every single night. Easy.

I am not just kind of standing in the doorway of the bedroom looking into the living room. I of course have my laptop because I would work from his place half the day. And I just stood there and thought to myself, “I could just download his phone.”

Shouldn’t take too long, for certain. And I would have everything. Messages, phone numbers, notes—all sorts of shit. Like, your life is in your phone. And I would have a copy of it. Hmmm.

Then this was the diabolical plan. I was going to send a text breaking up with {A}. Then I was going to block her number. I was going to replace it in the contacts with a burner number that of course would come straight to me. I would have been able to get a read on the way they talk to each other just by looking at their messages. I figured I might be able to pull this off for a bit. Then I would have devastatingly broken up with him as {A} after probing for information from him as her.

I truly loved this plan and I got so close to doing it. This guy’s plan was one of the single most evil ones I have ever thought of. It was going to be beautiful.

I actually walked to his side of the bed and stared at his phone in the little tray I had bought him. I couldn’t do it. I had too much respect for him to do that to him. I knew he was lying to me. I knew what I would obviously find. I’m not that person, though. That was his privacy.

If someone did that to me, I’d be pissed. Though I will say on a few occasions I would hold my phone out in my hand towards him, tell him my passcode, and say “trade ya.” He of course never did. Though I bet at some point he might have gone through my phone because I told him the passcode. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered to me, as I myself had nothing to hide from him.

So {D}, honey, you got lucky. I didn’t lose all respect for you until later. Also, {D}, I saw you paused on the part in the last post where I said that you hadn’t bothered to do anything to try to change yourself regardless of the fact that it had caused serious harm. I hope that meant something. Maybe you took it to heart. I hope you did, and frankly I hope you will. Go listen to that video I posted a couple days ago, please. I know it is long. But you know me, and I want to make sure you know it’s true.