There is much trouble to instigate in the land of Hotass.

If we lived in a perfect world, I would be Mrs. Hotass by now. Platinum ring on the finger. Benz in the garage. 2.5 kids with tousled blonde hair playing in the yard. Waking to the site of that scruffy god I call my husband.

But alas, all does not go as I planned. Hence, I am forced to inflict chaos on the poor, unsuspecting souls who venture into my path, in order to create for myself a psuedo-entertaining existence. The process by which I chose my victims, is quite insignificant. Rather, I do not choose them. They choose themselves. No one is spared the torment of my games, nor is anyone immune to their intentions. Granted, some souls bring it upon themselves with the constant begging for works or droning on about boring discussions. Beware. Sometimes you get what you ask for, but not to the degree you desire.

Which leaves me here. On the prowl. Plotting my next move. Determining ways to mislead the throngs. Figuring out a way to get Hotass in the back of my car for a little joyride.

Please feel free to look around, but keep out of my way while I'm working. I am not responsible for any harm that may occur when the plots begin to develop.