Ratt & Roll – Stephen Pearcy’s Memoir – Book Review

pearcyThe first time I’d heard the band Ratt was sometime during 7th grade. “Round and Round” was a catchy song, but being a 12-year-old that wasn’t allowed to purchase rock cassette tapes at the time, I didn’t mind that it was overplayed on the radio. I listened to Ratt throughout my junior high and high school days, purchasing whichever cassettes I could or at least duplicating tapes from friends.

Last week at the library, I found Ratt’s founder/lead singer Stephen Pearcy’s memoir: Sex, Drugs, Ratt & Roll – My Life in Rock. First I have to say that the book is very well written, flows nicely, and is easy to understand. It’s interesting to read from a fan’s point of view how Pearcy grew up, his struggle with having two broken legs after being hit by a car, heartbreak, his rise to fame, his downward spiral after the band broke up, and his newfound sobriety after the birth of his daughter. Some of the book tells pieces of his therapy sessions, most of which he seems to reveal his blatantly trampy sexual history. Pearcy does not sugar coat anything.

During the 1980s, my friends and I wanted to be like the girls in rock videos – hot and sexy and appealing to band members, but we hadn’t a clue what these band guys were really all about. While I was a 13- to 16-year-old virgin around the time I was a huge Ratt fan and drooling over Stephen Pearcy in MTV videos, he was getting screwed or blown by everything in a skirt or was nursing a bad case of gonorrhea. Pearcy’s constant reminder of how often and to what extent women wanted him is a bit nauseating. He also often reveals sexual escapades of his own band mates (particularly those of Bobby Blotzer and Robbin Crosby) and members of other popular glam rock bands that I listened to at the time (Van Halen, Poison, and Motley Crue, for instance).

Just a few examples – and these are tame:

“… there was so much goddamn trim around in those days, it didn’t make much sense to any of us to stick to one woman.”

“Our bus was a motorized fuck factory on wheels…”

“I pulled my pants down around my ankles and received the blow job of a lifetime while losing to Blotzer at Pong.”

“… one of our best tricks was to find a tall, slutty groupie with dyed blond hair and black roots… and have her suck off as many crew guys as possible; ideally, the ones who never showered. Then we’d steer her over to Blotz.”

So far the only thing that’s been blown for me is my image of the bands I used to love so much. Not that I ever thought they were innocent – but I didn’t expect them to live up to the name of a rodent by doing gaggable offenses (no pun intended).

But in the end, however, Pearcy redeems himself by admitting that (as he was older) he wanted something different – real love. That came after the birth of his daughter, Jewel, and his road to sobriety.

Some of the things that impressed me:

  • Pearcy himself seemed to steer the band to stardom. He wouldn’t stop until it happened.
  • Pearcy convinced the band to have their own look (something he describes as similar to pirates), including eye makeup – to the dismay of some of the other guys. He made his own costumes and even painted his own spandex pants.
  • Pearcy seemed to get along with others easily and make friends and connections quickly (before the downward spiral).

If you were ever a Ratt fan, this book is a must-read and difficult to put down. Oh – and it sure as hell beats 50 Shades of Grey.

To reminisce some of Ratt – here are some Youtube videos.

My Days of Heavy Metal & Being a Rocker Chick

I just read a memoir by Stephen Pearcy (of Ratt) and relived the moments of my lusting over long-haired band guys. I’d written about some of them in both of my books, which referred to me around age 13 and throughout high school.

I was known to be a “rocker” when I was a teenager and in my 20s. Only back then we were called “headbangers”, “motleys”, and “metal heads”. This was back in the 80s, so spandex, big hair, black eyeliner, and concert tshirts was my main wardrobe. (I’ve calmed down quite a bit since.) I went to every concert I could, and I’m glad I did get to see them in their prime.

Here are some excerpts from my books:

 

From my memoir "Unheard"
From my memoir “Unheard”

 

From my memoir "Unheard"
From my memoir “Unheard”

 

From my book "Dissed & Pissed"
From my book “Dissed & Pissed”

 

From "Dissed & Pissed"
From “Dissed & Pissed”

 

From "Dissed & Pissed"
From “Dissed & Pissed”

First impressions during the first week in Hawaii

I’ve been a little behind on blogging these last few weeks, because I’ve been ill most of the time. 😦

These were my first impressions of Oahu while I still exhausted from jetlag. I was completely overwhelmed, because we had no permanent place to live and no jobs past a certain date. (For those new to this blog, we were temporarily staying with friends and still employed until my husband’s official retirement date.)

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1. Naturally, the airport was the first thing I saw when we landed. The view of the sunset past the runway from the plane’s window was gorgeous. I was surprised, however, that Honolulu International Airport was so outdated. Everything seemed to be from the 70s or 80s and very dull.

2. Since we arrived in Honolulu right at sunset, it was dark by the time we got off the plane. I didn’t get to see the island until the following day. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that we learned we had been staying on the dry part of the island. Everything was brown. It was a shock, considering when most people think of Hawaii, they think of lush green grass and tropical flowers everywhere. I thought it resembled more of the desert in the Southwest than the beauty I was hoping to see. This was my first view of daylight on Oahu.

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3. I did manage to witness blooming white plumeria flowers, which was a first for me. Their scent was fantastic, but I think possibly a little too much for my allergies. What a shame! Also I noticed many blooming hibiscus flowers, one of the many plants I was unsuccessfully able to grow in my home state (see below).

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4. Traffic is a huge issue in Hawaii, especially in the Ewa Beach or Kapolei area. It takes forever to get anywhere, but on the positive note, people drive “aloha style”. Unlike the drivers in Florida, everyone lets everyone in and there is no road rage. There weren’t horns honking or people screaming at each other. It was a strange, quiet hum and politeness that held a different vibe than what us mainlanders are used to.

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5. We’d been house hunting for several months prior to our arrival. This is not an exaggeration – but out of about 50 phone calls inquiring about renting, we had about five calls returned. It was quite frustrating to wait around and not hear a thing, especially when we really liked a place.

For the next two days, we drove around Ewa Beach and Kapolei looking for places to rent. Everything looked the same to me and felt crowded. Anything that wasn’t a complete dump was $2000 a month minimum and relatively small. Most places had limited parking for renters and guests, and very few places were pet friendly. This posed a huge problem for us, because there was no way in hell we were going to get rid of our furry family members.

By this time, I knew my immune system was taking a tumble. I was tired of driving in circles and looking at places I wouldn’t want to live. The spicy green curry I had for lunch wasn’t settling nicely, so our renting hunt was over for the next few days. It turned out I had a stomach flu that was comparable to food poisoning, but the sensitive stomach effects lasted for a few weeks. I later determined that so far, I wasn’t “stomaching” this place. Yet.

NPR’s 3-Minute Fiction Contest – Rejection #2

Every time NPR has a 3-Minute Fiction contest I do my best to enter.  Before I got lucky and was selected for my story to appear on their website, this was one of my rejections. The story had to begin with “Some people swore that the house was haunted.” And it had to end with “Nothing was ever the same again after that.” – 600 words or less.

The House on the Water
by Susanna Hartigan
©2010

Some people swore that the house was haunted. The houseboat sat barely afloat on the Florida waters for almost seven years, leaving a mystery of several theories about its history. An old man who resembled a pirate got drunk and fell overboard, drowned by his own negligence. A serial killer abandoned it after having used it as a source of a kill site. Drug lords were executed on it when they didn’t meet their quota, their remains used as bait. A man killed his family on it before taking off into the Atlantic never to be seen again. No one really knew the story about the house on the water.

Many of the small town’s residents were quiet, distant ancestors of the Salem witch trials. They knew that hauntings were real-life occurrences, not just some fictional ghost stories. They knew that water was a great conductor of those from the otherworld and since the surrounding land contained a bed of limestone, there was a great possibility that the houseboat was in fact haunted. And they knew that the best option was to allow whatever paranormal that might occupy it to remain at rest. But there was one woman determined to be rid of the demons encircling it.

“It’s the town menace,” scowled Chatty Patty, nicknamed for being the town’s gossip and outspoken nuisance. “I want it gone. The Lord does not want evil spirits filthing up our community.”

Chatty Patty was known for exercising the demons out of everything, including food from the local health food store that happened to be owned by a pagan. People went out of their way in order to avoid the henpecker and her incessant ranting and insistence that Satan lived among the town. Although the town loathed the middle-aged woman’s presence, Patty was someone who would bring assistance to a family in need.

“Just because they are witches doesn’t mean that the Lord Jesus can’t change their ways through my influence,” she was heard saying one day at the library. Patty considered anyone a witch if they celebrated Halloween, including her own church members.

Despite her overbearing influence, Chatty Patty’s effort to get the houseboat removed from the Mosquito Lagoon was unsuccessful. The town’s mayor told her it wasn’t in the budget.  Her frequent trips to the police department went unheeded. “There’s nothing we can do about it. Not our jurisdiction,” she was told.

“We don’t handle boat removal. You’ll have to call a tow company,” the Coast Guard station informed her.

“Fine,” Patty informed the town. “Then I am going to be rid of this evil presence once and for all, even if I have to do it myself.”

For Patty, the disposal of the boat was a simple recipe: a canoe, Holy Bible verses, holy water, and olive oil. She would use the canoe to transport herself to the house on the water, drenching it in holy water upon her arrival. She would read all of the appropriate verses that were intended to strike any remaining form of immorality, as she doused the house on the water in olive oil. Patty told the townspeople of her plan. No one objected. Some were glad it would be the last time they would have to hear Chatty Patty complain about it ever again.

Patty set out to perform her duty the night before Halloween, knowing that it would deter from bringing more demonic influences to her town on such a blasphemous date.

Halloween arrived. The house on the water had disappeared. A canoe took its place. Nothing was ever the same again after that.

Overheard Conversations Make Me Laugh Out Loud (or Cringe!)

I often sit in public places and take notes for writing. Here are some of my most recent:

Little girl: Look! Three boys and three girls! It’s equal!
Father: No, it’s not equal. The boys are bigger.

Teenage Girl: Stupid cops! They gave me another ticket! Said my tag was expired.
Teenage Boy: When did it expire?
Teenage Girl: Like two months ago. But they already knew that when I got pulled over last month for speeding. They should have given me a chance!

Middle-aged Woman on cell phone: Don’t you love being retired? I’ll have to teach you the retirement dance!

Father: You’re paying? You brought your wallet? Does it have money in it?
Teen Son: I have money and a library card.
Father: When you open it, do moths come flying out?

Little Boy at beach (points to woman wearing black bra-style bikini) says to his mother: Is that a bra?

NPR’s 3-Minute Fiction Writing Contest — Cooking up Fiction by Susanna Hartigan

This was my rejected entry for my very first NPR writing contest. The story had to be under 600 words and contain the 4 words: “plant,” “button,” “trick,” “fly.” It’s been two years since I read this, and looking back, I know it could use some work.


Cooking Up Fiction 
by Susanna Hartigan ©2010

Caterina Romano seemed to be quite the opposite of her Italian upbringing when it came to cooking food. Her most memorable cooking experience ended in a disaster involving the local fire department and an eviction from her landlord when she tried to brown garlic in olive oil. The most frequently used appliances in her kitchen consisted of a microwave and a toaster oven, with a month-old dead basil plant sitting in between the two.

Like the basil plant, Caterina’s love life was dried up as well. Although easy to please, of pleasant company and easy on the eyes, Ma Romano’s voice echoed in her head that she would never find a man until she learned how to cook like a proper Italian woman should. Caterina had pretty much given up on dating and settled for watching her neighbors across the street out of her living room window on Saturdays. She knew that they barbequed each weekend, and one guest in particular that she admired drove a pickup truck donning a frontal vanity plate that exclaimed “FLY BOY”. That was the type of man the pretty brunette was had been dreaming of for the last three years, but in her mind, Caterina was convinced that no man would ever marry a culinary-challenged woman.

“What is wrong with you?” Nonna Romano screeched at every holiday gathering. “Why you no have no husband yet??” she’d ask, hands flying everywhere, nearly knocking over wine glasses at the dinner table.

“Caterina, love waits for you,” Ma repeated over and over again, dreamy eyed.

“Ma, her cooking is like trick-or-treat without the treat,” teased Caterina’s brother Tomeo. It was the same old joke, the same old story each and every holiday for the last two and a half years.

“I met someone,” announced Caterina. “He’s a pilot.”

Everyone perked up. Caterina stood there, unbelievably catching herself in her own blatant lies, clutching her hands and looking to the air above her head for the words to come to her just to please her family. She watched each of them, their eyes lighting up like Paschal candles.

“Tell us!” Ma was excited.

“He comes from a good Italian family,” lied Caterina, nervous and almost fumbling her thoughts to find the right words. Then all of a sudden it came to her naturally, as if it were the truth.

“What he look like?” asked Nonna, thrilled by the prospect that she may witness her only living granddaughter in a wedding dress one day. “He handsome?”

Caterina looked straight into Nonna’s eyes. Her acting classes from college were finally becoming of use to her. “Just like John Travolta!”

“Oh Caterina!” Ma sighed, making the sign of the cross on her chest so hard her button came flying off of her shirt and scurried onto the floor. “When will we meet him?” Tears began welling in Ma’s eyes.

“After our tour to Venice where he is flying me this summer…”

Book Review: Aleph by Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho is one of my favorite authors. The Alchemist was the first book I read by the author, and I enjoyed a few others as well.

I had ordered his newest book, Aleph, in August, so I was thrilled when it finally arrived at my doorstep. Like Coelho’s other books, Aleph is a spiritual journey. It was much like The Alchemist, but as an older man (and not a sequel). The added magic and fantasy to the story made it a little different, but Coelho claims that this is a nonfiction book. However, Aleph is listed as fiction, which makes the reader wonder which parts are true.

I give this book 4 out of 5 stars. If you are a Coelho fan like me, you probably have higher expectations and might be slightly disappointed that Aleph is so similar to The Alchemist.

Why I Love NPR More Than My Local News

Each morning with my cup of coffee, I generally read the local news. But not for long. I scan it for anything that may pique my interest, which usually isn’t much. For example, today’s local news involves: a man that punched a woman in the face at a bar, an ATM scanning scam, a hit-and-run case, and an abundance of other crime stories. It seems that most local news, no matter where you go, is the same shit, different city. And that is why I like NPR.

I don’t remember how I began listening to National Public Radio exactly, but I believe it happened when I was driving and wanted to hear something soothing. I don’t recall if NPR was either playing classical music or a show that interested me further. All I know is that I love NPR and the variety that it brings. Best of all, they don’t just put all of the “bad stuff” on their main page; they have the arts and other insightful newsworthy articles easily accessible and more prominent than I tend to find in local newspapers. Plus, many of the articles are aired and archived to listen if a show is missed.

Today I read a really cute and funny story written by a woman who played truth or dare when she was a kid and the trouble it got her into. Now this is a story that I’m sure everyone can relate to. Then I listened to stories about John Audubon’s first commercial illustration and Japanese micro houses. And I wouldn’t dare fail to mention round 9 of NPR’s 3-Minute-Fiction contest. Woo-hoo!

Besides mornings, my favorite time to listen to NPR is on weekends. Comedy shows like Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me, food shows like Kitchen Window, and history shows like Florida Frontiers make for a great Sunday afternoon lying in the hammock, watching the birds in the back yard, and listening to NPR. (Ten years ago, no one would ever hear me say nor write this!)

I can read and listen to NPR all day and not have to see or hear one more thing about the oil spill, the economic crisis, politics, or Sarah Palin’s crappy fake vocabulary. As does everyone, I choose to see and hear what I want. These are the stories I like: lighthearted, cup-of-coffee, intelligent, informative, interesting, and well… out of the ordinary. Perhaps if more people thought this way and refused to continue allowing all of that negative earth shattering crap pushed out of their televisions, radios and online sources everyday, the world might just be a little happier.

Bird by Bird – Ann Lamott – Book Review

Unlike most required reading assignments given by professors, I really enjoyed reading Bird by Bird – by Ann Lamott. The author was really straight up and quirky. She made me laugh out loud. It was a fun book that was educational and entertaining. That’s kind of rare.

Lamott gives advice to writers concerning writer’s block, publishing, and accepting the fact that if your work sucks, it’s okay. She suggests that first drafts are just that. No need to beat yourself up over anything.

Lamott talks about the aspect of publishing and how everyone wants to be published. But then once you’re published, that 15 seconds of fame fades quickly. Often, there is nothing monetary to show for all of the hard work. (I already know this, because after publishing my book, it seems to be a huge pain in the ass to market it without a ton of money to do so and without an agent. I’ve done a few book signings and sold a total of 4 books doing that. But that’s not as bad as other people. I was happy with my results, as I am a pretty realistic person when it comes to sales.)

I highly suggest this book to any aspiring writer!

How I Got My Writing Groove Back with Flash Fiction Short Stories

Since I have dedicated most of my writing to nonfiction over the last several years, going back to fiction has been a bit of a challenge for me. I love fiction! After all, I’ve been writing it since I was a young child. I even won a school contest in sixth grade, and I’ve been reading fiction forever. So why did I stop writing and reading it for the past five or six years? I really can’t answer that except maybe I wasn’t challenged.

I am glad to say that my interest in fiction is back, thanks to NPR. NPR ran an article about two years ago on Robert Smartwood’s Hint Fiction – fiction which is written in 25 words or less. Now I am transfixed on very short, short fiction and entering contests.

I entered my very first flash fiction contest from Smokelong Quarterly in which each submission had to be exactly 30 words – no more, no less. I was rejected, but it was another step in my groove. Almost two years later I realize that these could be the beginning of some of my screenwriting ideas.

These were my submissions:

A Haunting Moment
Your cornflower blue eyes told me that the prospect was irreversible. And as you left the area under the exit sign, the doctor emerged from the operating room, looking down.

Four Walls
Been dreamin’ alot lately. Doesn’t make sense – cowbells, clocks, neon lights, numbers. Reach for the pills, swallow down with whiskey. These walls are getting lonely. My pistol stares at me.

Vinnie
Whose hair is that all over his bathroom floor, I wondered. It is dark, not red like mine. This will give me the perfect excuse to take that trip after all.

A little behind on blogging… and a writing prompt

I’ve been a little behind on blogging, as I’m sure my fans have noticed. I haven’t been feeling too well lately. Stress, busy life. I feel like house cleaning has become my life as of late. Four animals and weekend guests to clean up after will do that. I think I’m ready for a real vacation!

I mentioned a while back that I would try to do writing prompts for those who are interested in writing and don’t know where to start. So here it is:

Start with the line:

“I feel like my life is…”

And go from there.

 

 

Is There a Book in You? Six Local Authors Explain How To Do It

Come see me at this event!
Is There a Book in You?
Wednesday, Feb. 8 – 2 PM
If you’ve ever given a single thought to writing a book, this event is for you!
 Six local authors will explain how they did it and how you can too.


Moderator: Dr. Michelle Thompson, Professor of English & Creative Writing at Daytona State College, who writes under the name Michelle Donice.
William Lazarus – teaches at Embry Riddle and Stetson and has written more than 30 books,
Susanna Hartigan is a research journalist, a finalist of NPRs Three-Minute Fiction contest, and a memoirist
Donna Gray-Banks – is Commnity Coordinator for the City of DeLand for the Central Florida Community Development Corporation. She has written two novels
Marian Tomblin – A Florida historian, and author of the acclaimed The Mystery at the Ormond Hotel.
Mary Ann Westbrook – has written several books of poetry, and heads the Tomoka Poets.
The program is free and open to all. 
 More Information on Facebook @ Friends of the Ormond Beach Library.


New book is about done!

Okay, so my new book is about done. Yesterday I was contacted by my local newspaper that my book Unheard is going to be featured soon. Great timing!!

I was brainstorming recently and thought about making audio books available. Does anyone listen to those? It is a very time-consuming process, so I’d love to hear some feedback.

Putting Out Book #2 & Getting Editor’s Block

As many of you know, I’ve been working on my second book. This one is comprised of teenage diary entries and poetry. It’s a sequel to Unheard, but in a different format. I think my biggest problem is that my poetry is in one notebook and my diary is in another, so the hardest work is finding the right dates that match up so that I can effectively convey the feelings I had. (And let me tell you – I read some of my teen poetry, and I hadn’t realized how strong my feelings were!)

Actually, I have to be honest about the book. I worked on it diligently for several weeks, put it down, picked it back up, and put it back down. It’s not that I have writer’s block, because it’s basically already been written. It’s more like editor’s block!

Birds, Felons, and the Pissing Buddha

I can hear a bird outside. I think it’s a mockingbird. I can see my garden from my window. My table fountain is on. It’s a Buddha fountain, and although it’s seated, it looks like it’s pissing because the water is shooting up like a drinking fountain. I call it my Pissing Buddha. Maybe I should write a story about that.

Speaking of writing stories, the Writer’s Digest competition ends May 2nd. I have a few things started but now that school has taken over everything, I don’t know what to do. I really wanted to enter something. As long as I don’t have anymore surprises from felons or get anymore illnesses, I can be creative.

Writing – When it’s Not Just a Hobby

Fitting writing into my daily schedule has been a practice for me for quite some time now. My business has died about 85% in the last year, so I decided to use this “spare” time to go back to school.

If I had to work full time and try to do this degree, I’d never make it. I already know what my body and mind are capable of, and when I was in college 15 years ago, I burned the candle at both ends. I burned out, big time. I have learned I can’t be Super Woman anymore, and I don’t have to be. I know my limits. It is finally my turn to focus and concentrate on school with nothing else in my way. Finally!

For the last year or two, I have written just about every day. I often take a notebook or find a sheet of paper to take notes on while I’m sitting by myself at a restaurant. That’s where I do a lot of my observations. Happy hour at the bar down the street makes for some interesting character sketches as well!

I have so many things I want to write about… I keep starting them but the ideas aren’t fully developed. I have a story about Ava Harper so far… maybe two or three pages into it. I wrote that while sitting in the passenger’s side of the car on a road trip. I just wrote a story about sunflowers – which is more of a fable/moral-to-the-story type of story – for both kids and adults. Think Disney, because that’s what I was thinking when I wrote it. I have two more children’s story ideas… two more that I’ve started and never finished because I was lacking oomph. One is a girl’s story and one is a boy’s…

All of my stories are both visual and swimming around… I visualize everything. It’s the only way I can write.

Rep of Large Company Boasts About Animal Cruelty

The last few years have proven to be an age of outing. In recent news, several people in big companies and government agencies are being outed for doing or saying stupid, immoral, or illegal things. No one is perfect, and we all do and say stupid things – but there comes a time when watching what you say may cost you your job, reputation, or company’s reputation.

While I was having lunch in a restaurant the other day, there were two young women next to me that were difficult to ignore. Not only were we sitting close in proximity, one especially wasn’t the quietest chip in the bag. At first glance of the giant yellow company purse bag next to the woman sitting closest to me, I chalked it up to her having a lot of baggage. But then she announced what she does for a living. She represents a very large candy company with two initials – the one that sponsors a racecar driver – the one displayed on her baggage. I will refer to her as Miss Yellow Baggage.

I overheard the women’s personal issues and gossip about some people they knew, workplace drama about people being fired, the slight looks and whispers and giggles in my direction. I had to double check where I was because for a moment it seemed as if I were back in eighth grade.

While I didn’t get a very good look at Miss Yellow Baggage because she was primarily turned towards her friend and wearing a baseball cap, she was extremely loud – the type with a raspy smoker’s voice that certainly does not make for a nice, quiet meal. Miss YB boasted something so shocking and downright cruel that I will never forget: “I hate cats. If a cat is on the other side of the road, I will drive on the other side to hit it.”

I almost choked on my food, and it was obvious that she’d been heard, because Miss YB’s friend had been turned my way, noticed my expression, and whispered something about me hearing her. But Miss YB didn’t care. She just shrugged it off, snorted and laughed.

How could anyone think of doing such a thing to a harmless animal, much less boast about it in a public restaurant? I thought of my own baby kitties and how I had to bury one of them last year when he was hit by a car (perhaps Miss Yellow Baggage was in the neighborhood?). At that point I was ready to leave. My stomach was upset and I didn’t even enjoy the rest of my meal. All I wanted to do was get out of there and away from this big yellow baggage monster, and so I did.

I knew that if she were telling the truth about purposely running over cats, that she is or has broken the law, possibly even committed a felony. I looked up the statutes and I was right:

Florida Statute:
828.12. Cruelty to animals
(1) A person who unnecessarily overloads, overdrives, torments, deprives of necessary sustenance or shelter, or unnecessarily mutilates, or kills any animal, or causes the same to be done, or carries in or upon any vehicle, or otherwise, any animal in a cruel or inhumane manner, is guilty of a misdemeanor of the first degree, punishable as provided in s. 775.082 or by a fine of not more than $5,000, or both.

(2) A person who intentionally commits an act to any animal which results in the cruel death, or excessive or repeated infliction of unnecessary pain or suffering, or causes the same to be done, is guilty of a felony of the third degree, punishable as provided in s. 775.082 or by a fine of not more than $10,000, or both.

My entire drive home I thought about how awful that experience was. I wonder what her two-letter company would think about that? So I decided I would out her on my blog.

See, what Miss Yellow Baggage did not realize is that she was not sitting next to some ordinary person eating her lunch. She was sitting next to a cat loving, animal shelter volunteer who also just so happens to be a writer – and one that isn’t afraid to out her.