HAMBURGER HELPER

I CAN'T DRIVE 55!!! Lately I've had it in my head that I am 55 years old, although I know deep down I am 53. I turn 54 on February 17, 2027 at 6:29 p.m. For the astrologically curious this means that I have sun and Venus in Aquarius, Virgo rising and Virgo moon, Mars in Capricorn and Mercury in Pisces. I might possibly be retarded but I'm sparkly about it like Dolly Parton but not as famous and flamboyant. Also, by all reports Dolly Parton was a sweet as hell down to earth gal. That is not my flavor. Do not fuck with my Hamburger Helper. I'm pretty intense about my food. Maybe that's my Pluto in Libra in the second house square my Mars in Capricorn in the fifth. I am not sure. Yesterday David was in the bathroom and I was in the bedroom and we both spied a couple of frigate birds fighting over a piece of food while in flight. It was stunning to behold and I could certainly relate. I felt that shit.

I have never consumed Hamburger Helper of my own volition. They probably fed it to me at least a couple of times when I was a kid but I have no memory of this. I do recall loathing sloppy joes. I didn't mind fried spam sandwiches, especially if they came with Fritos. I remember the amazing cinnamon rolls they fed us on occasion in the cafeteria at Jefferson Elementary in Wichita Falls, Texas. They were huge and messy as hell. I fucking loved those things. The other night I was craving Cheetos but I did not ask David to walk to the store and buy me a bag. I fought my demons and won. 

For the past month or so David has been informing me how dire things are in the States. I've got my headphones on, I'm making noise and Redbubble designs, and he's telling me this prepper said this and that prepper said that. Shit is DIRE. The empire is on FIRE. Keep in mind I spent the first 53 years of my life in the United States of America, mostly in Texas. Which states did I reside in or spend a few weeks here and there in? Texas. New Mexico. Louisiana. South Carolina. New York. Oklahoma. California. I only had Texas and New Mexico driver's licenses as I spent years of my life in those two states, but I was proud as hell of my San Francisco library card. I lived on Clayton Street off Haight for one month in 2013. I had the food stamp experience, the WIC experience, the disability experience, the financial aid experience, the hurricane evacuation experience, the tornado experience, the psych ward experience, the root canal experience, the writing hot checks in a few different states while on a road trip experience, the shoplifting experience, the driving while under the influence experience, the emergency room experience, the urgent care experience, the giving birth experience, the topless dancing experience, the finding a place to live on Craig's List experience, the sorority experience, the being bullied experience, the being invisible experience, the gated subdivision experience, the trailer house experience, the being kicked out of a house experience, the being kicked out of a hotel experience, the no hot water for one month experience, the Coinstar experience, the garage sale experience, the flea market experience, the donating plasma experience, the living on ramen experience, the writing for a small town newspaper experience, the starting a small business with a deck of cards experience, the singing with the band in a downtown San Antonio bar experience, the selling art in San Antonio experience, the marriage experience, the divorce experience, the sobbing in a hair salon experience, the cutting my own hair off experience, the Paxil experience, the Prozac experience, the asthma experience, the menorrhagia experience, the precancerous cells on the cervix experience, the gossiping shit talking cousins experience, the karaoke experience, the casual gross regrettable horrible sex experience, the rape experience, the open mic experience, the alcohol poisoning experience, the shopping drunk in Walmart experience, the buying helium balloons in Family Dollar experience, the buying candy and makeup in Five Below experience, the getting fingered while sitting on a bench overlooking the Guadalupe River in Kerrville, Texas experience. You get the goddamn gist. Oh. Yeah. I was dunked in water in a few different churches in Texas and Louisiana. Yay Jesus. Goddamn right I had the Sunday school/vacation bible school/church camp experience. Did. I. Stutter.

So the preppers are sitting in their parked vehicles or on their sunlit porches talking about stocking up on duct tape, various tools, flour, canned beans, batteries, water, etcetera. SHTF. They are preparing for when the SHIT HITS THE FAN. Data centers breaking the grid? Armageddon? Zombie apocalypse? We watched "Civil War" the other night. I cannot imagine anything remotely similar happening in my lifetime. I could certainly be wrong.

Since leaving San Antonio in April I have experienced intense pangs of homesickness, even though I was miserable most of the time. I've asked David some variation of If Things Get Better Can We Go There Can We Live There We Could Go To Colorado We Could Go To Nevada Can We Live Together in The Country of My Birth. David isn't feeling it. He's lived in the UK, Sweden, Finland, Indiana...and now Belize. He has zero love for the United States of America. He asks me if I want to go back and eat trash food and die slow, my body falling apart, having numerous surgeries until I finally die. Doesn't sound too appealing, no. But goddamn. I still love Cheetos and Dr. Pepper and Snickers. McDonald's coffee is the best. The McDonald's black coffee with an apple pie and a bacon egg cheese biscuit is the best fucking breakfast on the planet. Fight me, bitch. I hated the food in the UK. I was ecstatic to finally find a Subway. Yeah, the Domino's pizza was good but they put corn on it. What in the actual fuck of all fuck??? 

We've been on this island since May. David makes better tacos than any Mexican. He makes damn decent fried rice. Also. He has a huge cock. "It's not just that I have a huge cock. I go hard or go home. You've said it yourself. 'I had to cross the pond to get fucked properly.'" Quite.

I checked walmart.com on a whim to see how dire things are. I scribbled notes in the floral journal I purchased in San Pedro a few months ago. Here is the raw data:

Rollbacks & More

must-haves for less

12 pack Cherry Dr. Pepper $6.97

Hamburger Helper Cheesy Ranch Burger +20 options $1.48

Monster Energy Ultra Variety Pack LIBERTY 12 pack $21.58

Frito-Lay Flavor Mix Snack Chips Variety 18 Pack $8.97

Little Debbie Fall Pumpkin Delights 8 Count $3.16

Tree Hut Tropic Glow Whipped Shea Body Butter $9.97

Reese's Assorted Milk Chocolate Snack Size Peanut Butter Shapes PUMPKINS GHOSTS BATS 9 oz bag $5.57

Great Value LARGE white eggs 12 count $1.67

Great Value 1% Low-fat chocolate milk half gallon 64 fl oz $1.82

Great Value Soft & Strong Premium Toilet Paper 36 MEGA ROLLS (380 sheets per roll) $19.67

Verizon iPhone 18 Pro 256GB Burgundy $31.92/month 36 months 

85% Lean/15% Fat Angus Ground Beef Steak Burgers 12 count 4 lb. tray $24.97

Aria Women's Lightweight Cotton Woven 50" Ballet Nightgown sizes xs-5X Bright White Vine Blue Floral $11.72

Well. Godspeed, my fellow Americans. See ya on the other side.

xxx Misti Velvet xxx

 

FIND A BETTER COUNTRY

Back in the glorious MySpace days of 2008 I remember a cousin's husband at the time (she's on marriage #3...common in Texas) had this pithy quote on his page: 

"This is AMERICA. If you don't like it you can LEAVE."

I took umbrage. He lived in a brand-new brick house (thanks to his wealthy grandfather) and I was living on WIC and food stamps in a tiny trashy rent house I called The Crack Whore Shack in Nederland, Texas with my infant son and his father, my second husband. I remember thinking, "I would LEAVE if I COULD. Asshole."

I don't like The United States of America, the country of my birth. I don't like Texas, the state of my birth. I finally left at the age of 53. I live on this island in the Caribbean. I've been here with my fiance (David) since May. We still haven't been to Secret Beach but we aren't really beach people. We don't drink. We don't get stoned. We're boring as hell with our weights and resistance bands and yoga mat. We write books and fuck each other and take pictures of palm trees and iguanas and the moon.

There's no Walmart or McDonald's or Taco Bell or Ross Dress For Less on this island. How do I cope? Oh, the usual...eating JIF Extra Crunchy from the jar, watching "Cheaters" in bed with my man, reading the PDF of his novel until I sob.

I am not Taylor Swift. Jesus wept. Selah.

p.S. in a recent dream I purchased a FIFTH AVENUE candy bar, something I haven't done in many moons

 

swooncaKe aesthetic

Not everyone is special. Not everyone is worthy of attention, publicity, wealth, health, divine revelations, favor. I did not make the rules, I only abide by them. If something isn't special I do not share it. That was not always the case. Lately I've been dedicated to the culling process. I've been deleting old photographs, blog posts, videos and playlists. God (according to David GOD does not exist but I remain a believer) has instructed me and I have obeyed. We don't all get a seat at the table. We can't all be Kim Kardashian. We can't all be Taylor Swift. We can't all be Sharon Osbourne. We can't all be Anais Nin. We can't all be Erica Jong. I could puke from now until the day I die looking around at those who are favored, celebrated, lauded, rewarded. Last night I watched a favorite film of mine, "Coal Miner's Daughter." David was amused and disgusted. He doesn't get it. Not everyone thinks Loretta Lynn was a great or even good singer. Not everyone is mesmerized by Sissy Spacek's portrayal of Loretta Lynn. Not everyone worships at the altar of Elvis. Not everyone thinks RETARD PENIS should be purchased, read, reviewed. 

It's lonely (quite) at my table. I am seated at the kiddie table. I'm too ridiculous and rude to be welcome at The Grown-Up Table where the gossip ranges from Billy Bob's latest Home Depot haul to Kelly Sue's latest pregnancy. I don't feel like I'm missing out on much at all. Loneliness is often delicious. No one I think is in my tree and that is perfectly acceptable. I was deluded for several years, jumping through hoops of fire for various motherfuckers. No mas, hoss.

I celebrate trash. I celebrate the absurd. I celebrate the ridiculous. End transmission.

 

DATA CENTER SMOKE BREAK

The bugs are biting the sun is setting the dogs are barking the music is playing in Belize. Earlier there were tacos and I was ranting because I thought I had lost a track I was madly in love with. I just heard a gunshot. I'm safe here in bed with my Aries rapist. Inside joke. I no longer eat cereal but if I did my cereal of choice sure as fucking hell would not be FANS CORNFLAKES. Capital letters are still somehow important. Have you driven a FORD lately? Confident. Confident. Dry and secure. Raise your hand. Raise your hand if you're SURE. I have this memory of lying awake in my canopy bed in Goree, Texas in 1975 or 1976. The television in the den had been turned off for hours but I kept hearing the A&W Root Beer commercial over and over again. I thought I was losing my mind. I probably was. All these years later I remain obsessed with audio. Here is my latest track available for $1.50. Bye.

 

YOU HAVE BEEN REPORTED

 

 

"She's a hateful vengeful tarot card shuffling incense burning Satan loving witch," Cousin One said on her way to the nail salon. Paris beckons! So many photo ops for Instagram! Family reunion at Cracker Barrel tonight! Y'all be there! LOL!

 

Another gender reveal cupcake party. Get excited. Another baby shower. Get excited. Another wedding. Get excited. Black Friday at Target. Frozen margaritas with the girls in Las Vegas. Taylor Swift concert. Paul McCartney is still singing "Love Me Do"! Here's proof!

 

Splurge on a Versace handbag, bitch. Four thousand dollars never felt so GOOD. Jesus wants us to have the very best! Designer cowboy boots. Designer sofa. McMansion on the safe side of Dallas. See how good we look at Facebook? Jesus doesn't want you to be jealous. Jesus wants you to praise your neighbor for having a better house a better car a better family a better life. We pray the wildfires and tornadoes and floods away! We are FAVORED!

 

Google the outcast. Google the bitch who colors outside the lines. Google the bitch who chooses SELF over prescribed deity. Google the bitch who never found the prize easter egg in moo cow pasture.

 

53 years in the proudest reddest state. 53 years of judgment, gossip, JESUS SAVES JESUS SAVES, junk food, fast food, BULLSHIT RODEO, garage sales, asthma attacks, men drinking cheap beer swinging leather belts because Daddy Knows Best, women scribbling mindless sermons in Hallmark cards because Jesus Forgives Us All, another Baptist preacher droning on about abortion/guns/obeying the parents, respecting the elected leader who has raped women and children, filling houses with ceramic angels and various guns because that is what will save us from terrorists, rapists, pedophiles, immigrants, AI, witches, Satanists, poets, terrible weather.

 

As For Me & My House We Will Serve The Lord

 

LIVE LAUGH LOVE LIE

 

Bless Her Heart

 

We Speak ENGLISH HERE

 

written by Misti Velvet Rainwater on Friday 31 July 2026 

 

ORANGE FACE FOREVER

 

 

 

FLORIDA SUPERNATURAL 

 

250

celebrate with spam sandwiches & budweiser