Friday, December 30, 2016

(I was eleven.)






dawn barr es mi novia

I am a hot babe from San Antonio
and if you text me back
I will show you my hot pictures.

??? QUE ???




Thursday, December 29, 2016


I have a repository. It's scary stuff. My short term memory is shit. My brain is Swiss cheese. But the memories from way back knock me flat on my ass on a regular basis. Here's a memory that isn't especially emotionally painful but it's so vivid it's as if it happened last night. Well that's an exaggeration. But. I'm a little girl living in a trailer house in Bridgeport, Texas with my recently divorced mom and my two younger siblings. The road we lived on was called Cuba Road back in 1979. It's night. It's cold. I'm having an asthma attack. I can't fucking breathe. There was a vaporizer. There was Dimetapp. Wasn't enough. I didn't know what an inhaler was. I begged my mom to take me to the ER to get a shot so that I could breathe. I remember riding to the hospital (the hospital where I was born, a little hospital in Bridgeport that was torn down years ago) in my mom's station wagon. And this song was on the radio.




Today is always the greatest day even when it isn't. I am not ashamed. I love Billy Corgan. I love The Smashing Pumpkins. I love Courtney Love. I love Hole. I love Kurt Cobain. I love Nirvana. I love Mickey Rourke in "The Wrestler" telling Marisa Tomei that he hated the nineties and then dancing to "Round And Round." That was pretty fucking hot.

Spoiler alert. Fuckerbutt Happy Time ends with my goofy yet entertaining revision of the original Texas chainsaw massacre screenplay. At the very end the lone survivor chick is rescued by a pasty faced guy driving an ice cream truck. Can you dig it? I knew that you could!

p.s. I also love George Michael.

Monday, December 19, 2016




I did the field research and grunt work so you don't have to. If you're having beautiful, wondrous, life affirming experiences at, eHarmony, Craig's List and OK Cupid I am so fucking happy for you! I encourage you to write a book about your experiences and publish that shit yourselves (unless you're buddy buddy with those hot shit fuckers at Simon & Schuster). Invite the world in! We're all here to be share bears! I jest.

Here is my revised illustrated novel, Fuckerbutt Happy Time, just in time to buy and stuff in a motherfucker's stocking. Feliz Navidad, fuckerbutts!

Friday, December 16, 2016


Oh! You think I'm JOKIN'?!

Today I feel AMAZING because I got up before the sun and gave my son a pep talk before he left for school. He's learning at the age of nine that there are assholes in the world who will whisper and judge and label. My son was on the brink of tears when I first saw him this morning. He was sitting on the sofa with a half-eaten bowl of Cookie Crisp on the coffee table. When he left for school he was SMILING because of me! I'm magic!

Breakfast is two eggs boiled motherfucking hard, hot lemon water and olive oil drizzled sea salt speckled asparagus spears. Damn it feels GOOD to be a gangsta! Now I'm ready to kick that Planet Fitness ASS!

Here are some hot links for ya. MUTHA. BOUND. And BOUND. I delight in the light of my soul without apology. Salud!

Thursday, December 15, 2016

exotic butters

I learned about exotic butters from my son. He's an FNAF fanatic. I was so enchanted by the words I decided to publish a book with that title. See the rocket on the cover? When I was a kid there was a rocket almost exactly like it at the park in Bridgeport, Texas. I never made it to the top. Last night I told my son a Cougar and Sally story. Cougar built a rocket out of beer cans. "There's no way he'll make it to Uranus in a rocket like that," my son said, laughing. But Cougar DID make it to Uranus, and so did Sally and their son C.J.! Someday I'll publish a series of books about Cougar and Sally and C.J. Here's the book version of this blog. I see that someone downloaded it for free. This makes me sad. I like the idea of my books being held and fondled and sniffed and licked. When I was a teenager I ate lemons while reading Gone With The Wind in bed. The pages were stained with lemon juice. That memory makes me happy. Here are the songs I listened to while putting together my latest book. I intend to revise Walking The Earth and Fuckerbutt Happy Time after the presents have been opened and the almond crescents have been devoured. Then I'll attack the rough draft of SANGRE, my most kick ass novel ever.

Always Merry & Bright,

Misti Velvet Rainwater-Lites

Saturday, December 3, 2016


There was a group of people. We were outside. The sun was shining hard. The leader of the group mentioned snow. I didn't believe him but then I looked and sure enough, there was snow on the ground. I picked up some snow and made a snowball and carried it inside an auditorium. People were so happy together in pairs and groups. I was alone but not lonely. I was pretty damn happy with myself and my snowball. I guess you could say the snowball was my best friend. The movie was Oliver Stone's "The Doors." I was excited, happy, elated, jubilant, ebullient to be watching "The Doors" with a crowd of strangers and my new best friend. But there were glitches. The movie projector wasn't doing its job terribly well. What the fuck? We're here to watch Val Kilmer as The Lizard King make love to Meg Ryan as Pamela Courson. We are not here to watch a blank damn screen. You get what you pay for. I paid nada. I just walked through the door to find a happy surprise. Then the surprise was less happy due to the glitches. Then I noticed the man who functioned as my stepfather for several years. He was sitting with a group of people, talking, smiling, having the best damn time of his life. "I hope he doesn't see me. I don't want him to see me alone with this snowball. He'll think...Bitch Really is Crazy," I thought. He didn't see me. Whew. The movie never did continue. I guess eventually I left and the snowball melted. There are raindrops on the window and the xmas tree is aglow. The fish tank is still burbling even though the fish is buried in the backyard. I'm going to color my grey hair now and make myself gorgeous for xmas pictures with my son. If you would like to receive a xmas card from me and my son send me your address. You know how to contact me.

Thursday, December 1, 2016


I was hanging out with Nard in the studio. The Billy Madison Show, bitches. Except in the dream as is so often the case the studio was not the studio at all but a really ratty ass apartment. I had my clothes stored in boxes in various rooms. I was packing up my stuff to leave. It was raining outside. I went inside one of the rooms to collect my clothes and discovered there were roaches crawling all over my clothes so I left them behind. Then I was practicing a scene with some random guy. I punctuated my lines with blatant disgust. "Damn. You're a good actress," the guy said. I thought,"Yeah. There's probably an Oscar in my damn future."

I am convinced that picadillo con papas result in vivid dreams. I'm pleased that I can make picadillo con papas my damn self. I didn't think this was possible. I CAN FRY MY OWN POTATOES. I can fry my own lean ground beef. I know cumin. I know black pepper. I know garlic salt. I know tomatoes. I know onions. I know butter. I know flour tortillas. I know salsa verde. What else do I know? Not much. I was born in Bridgeport, Texas.