I’m very nice. Until I’m not. -Arizona
Hai kids. It’s me, your intrepid reporter Kelly. Tonight I am not only reporting on the Stabby shenanigans as well as Bob Bashara, but also the shenanigans going on in twitter land because I have once again become the picture hanging on the dartboard in the PV clubhouse.
So, let’s start with my day. I had to go back to the doctor today because my eye has become grossly infected. Infected enough that my doctor did an actual double take when he saw it. He poked, which hurt, he prodded, which hurt more, and he rolled up my extremely swollen eyelid which almost got him a kick in the nuts. My entire eye socket is swimming in puss apparently and I am blind in the eye because of the pressure on my optic nerve. He ordered me antibiotics, huge ones and then informed me that I also need antibiotic drops but of course disability doesn’t pay for those because who cares if I go blind, so he didn’t bother writing that script. He looked to see if he had any samples but he didn’t. So, here’s hoping that the antibiotics work.
A soldier in my country was shot and killed for no apparent reason. He was the soldier entrusted with guarding the tomb of the unknown soldier. His job was to explain about the monument and answer questions from tour groups. He was killed for absolutely no reason. I don’t care if that was what he chose to do. He was on home soil where war has not been declared. There is a theory that this is ISIS payback for us sending 6 bombers to join the attempt to eradicate this terrorist organization. Ottawa was pretty much on complete lockdown and our PM was moved to safety. So far a pretty shitty day, but not the worst day ever.
I came home and talked to my twitter peeps for a while and started researching for tonight’s blog and got a heads up that I should check out some dudes twitter because he was saying some pretty shitty things about me. So I did, and I wish I didn’t. Of course he is a PV lover and apparently a Stabby lover since PV is telling the truth about Stabby and she is a MUCH better writer than I am. Then he started talking about how I needed to see a plastic surgeon because I look like I fell on a hand grenade and then enquired if Really Big Mean Dog was because I was a really fat miserable bitch. I of course told my friends who summarily went insane, which was not my intent, I was just upset and wanted to tell someone. I reported and blocked and hopefully that new piece of shit will be gone by tomorrow. Not gonna lie to you, it hurt me terribly to read those things. But then I got thinking that you guys don’t really have a shit to give about what I look like on the outside so from me to Pig Vomit; eat a Dick. Preferably one riddled with syphilis. your day is coming very soon and the whole world is going know who you are.
Speaking of pigs, today in Stabby land things got almost interesting for a second. Here are the Bombshells, spoiler (not really) of the day. Stabby has a boyfriend. He has so far not been named, but he has been in court and he visits her in jail all the time. Remember you read it here a few blogs ago when I said some Stabby groupie would marry her and never have sex again.
We lost another Juror and it is all Beth Karas’ fault. During the first break, she was doing an on camera segment outside of the courthouse. She realized that a juror was standing nearby but figured she couldn’t hear shit so she carried on. Karas said that when she came back into the courthouse, the dumbass juror approached her and asked if she was Nancy Grace. Karas answered that she used to work with Grace and then reported the idiot to the court. So, we have another fame whore wanna be, and goddamn they seem to be coming out of the fucking wood don’t they, except this one doesn’t know the difference between Nancy Grace and Beth Karas. Probably hoping to get a job on HLN. Beth Karas totally did the right thing, and as an officer of the court (she is still a member of the bar) she was actually compelled to do so. My guess, another stealth juror who could later throw the trial by saying they’d heard the interview yada yada mistrial. Sometimes Judge Sherry reiterated her admonition to stay the fuck away from televisions and newspapers and social media, because yeah, that’s totally going to happen.
As far as the actual trial itself, it is pretty much the abridged version of the first trial. Dr. Kevin Horn, pathologist/underwear model was on the stand and we went through each and every one of Travis’ wounds again. That poor, poor man. I hate Stabby a little bit more each and every time I hear penetrating stab wound, incised wound, defensive wound. How he must have fought to live. How terrified do you think he was? And somehow, I can hear her laughing at his terror, telling him that if she couldn’t have him than nobody ever would. I don’t know why I think that, but I really do.
The fact that back in 2009 Flores said the order of wounds was different was brought up. It was also brought up that these were Flores own thoughts on the sequence of events and
that the medical examiner had never told him that. Horn confirmed that he had never told him that.
Jenny from the cell block got up and took a pretty good run at Dr. Horn. She couldn’t shake him, but she did win the talent portion of the competition. Dr. Horn was firm on his wound infliction timeline. He was stabbed a billion times (at least that’s what it felt like), she slit his throat and then just for the fuck of it she shot him in the head. I think the idea of multiple weapons was so she could claim multiple intruders if it came down to it and she did.
Stabby was also caught making fuck me eyes at on of the male Jurors by Henri DelRey, one of the reporters in the courtroom. Remember kids, all you need is one.
Now, on to the sick twist that is Bob Bashara:
Today, Mark O’Riordan, with the U.S. Secret Service, told jurors about his Jan. 27, 2012, interview of Bashara. During that interview he admitted that he had had an affair 8 years earlier but claimed to not be banging some bondage bitch prior to his wife being killed. Then he pulled out the “I am a rotary club president therefore I am above reproach” card.
The witness of the day prize went to Janet Leehmann. She told the court that Bashara was a big fat liar because he was in Oregon banging her (literally and figuratively) two weeks before his wife was murdered. They met on alt.com which is exactly what it sounds like and I’m not going to see for myself. He asked her to consider relocating to Grosse Pointe from Oregon and told her that his Daddy was a big time judge which is no doubt why he figured he could kill his wife and not really worry about it. Bashara, who Leehmann referred to as Master Bob told her that he and Rachel Gillett, the longtime mistress he totally wasn’t having an affair with, were looking for a third person to join them at Shirley’s house of pain and pleasure.
For Christmas, Bashara got her a $25 gift card to the Olive Garden with some of his wife’s money since he didn’t have any, and a leather string to wear on her wrist as a symbol of his ownership of her. “You are to wear it on your left wrist and not wear it around your neck until I’m there to put it there myself,” he wrote her.
She got a message saying she would soon feel his strength and passion. (excuse me I need the puke bucket again) Leehmann thought she was getting into some light bondage and instead what she got into was a beating that left her marked up for over 3 months because of course Bashara is one of those sick fucks that can’t get it up unless he’s beating on a woman.
After his wife just turned up dead to his complete and utter shock, he told Leehmann that they should not be in contact for a while which was cool with her, she figured she could just quietly peace the fuck out, but then the sicko called her and said he wanted her to hid his other mistress in Oregon with her. She took a pass, called the cops and got a restraining order. Smart girl.
Bashara’s trial continues tomorrow and because it is so much more interesting than Stabby 2.0 I will be covering it as well.
That is all for tonight kids. This is Really Big Mean Dog peacing the fuck out. Have a great night.
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