Brrrrr.

Thanks to, uh, Anonymous.  Happy Thanksgiving!

family tree

So, because a few people have asked, and since I already had this cobbled together for my lawsuit, I thought this might help clear up some confusion as to who was who in the great Janna clusterfuck of bullshit.

I marked in red the characters Janna produced photos for, and if they've been confirmed as other people, I've put that in also.  This is a tad out of date, I've learned a lot more about Janna's real life as well as getting more feedback on photos since I put this together several years ago, but I'm sure as hell not going to be spending time updating.  You get my drift.  The purple star is to indicate the people in "Jesse's" circle that I had some communication with, either by direct phone or email contact, or by their posting on one blog or another of "Jesse's" or on the post-death tribute blog.  There are a shit-ton of other players in this charade, firemen cohorts and other local residents who were friends and acquaintances of "Jesse's" and suchlike, but these folks outlined here were the regulars in this little soap opera, who were either continually mentioned by "Jesse" and Janna, or that were active participants, speaking up for "themselves."  I'm so tired of quotation marks.

The little cluster of green you see down on the bottom, well, that's the true bit, ie the biographical details and photos that Janna produced about her own family were actually the people she said they were.  Except for her daughter having dated "Jesse," of course.  and probably a lot of other stuff, but you see how it became all snarled together into one quasi-truth.

You can click on this and see it in all its gory up-closeness.  It's a big image, but it has to be to make it readable.  Just warning you.

uh. hi.

A brief update.  Still snarled in the wheels of the legal system, the appeals court is reviewing our brief and we're waiting to schedule oral argument.

A lot of visits, and comments.  Hi, all y'all.  Who knew Catfish would bounce back here?  A few words about Catfish - no, I haven't seen it, but I can pretty much figure how it ends.  I've heard a bit of questioning as to whether or not this movie is really a documentary, I doubt very much it was based on my story.  It doesn't have to be.  Shit like this happens all the time, and it's not just career con artists like Janna Janny Janna Hopper St James Priggie.  The internet's unleashed a whole mess of criminal behavior, and the legal system is still catching up in terms of how to prosecute.  Luckily, my lawyer is well-versed in internet law, but there are still precedents to be set.  Point is, a lot of lonely shut-ins have found a new way of making friends, by making themselves sound more interesting than they really are, and by stirring up drama.  It's too easy now.

So, maybe Catfish is real, maybe it's not, but the lesson to be learned is still the same.  Don't trust them till you meet them in the flesh, and even then, be wary.

P.S.  Donna, please get in touch with me (email is clickable on my profile) if you want me to direct you to some people who might be able to help you.

I believe it

truth

yawn

So, Janna's lawyer has bowed out of the case, and she's got a new person who needs to get up to speed.  More delays.

But I want to address something else entirely, or at least as part of a bigger picture.

I had another blog before this one, the one where I rhapsodized about "Jesse" and all the rest of that happy crappy.   I had photos in that blog linked to my own personal server, and a few weeks after Jann Hopper St James was kicked out of my house, I got a notice from my provider that there had been some suspicious activity going on with my files, especially a section I had uploaded for potential legal action against Janna, called "evidence," with screen grabs and photos.  Ew.  So I closed it all down in March 2007 - website and blog, because that creeped me out.

A little backstory before I continue : my friend Sarah and I had decided at the end of 2006 to start a company which we decided to name after my dog.  Of course, I had to reserve the domain name right away, even though we weren't anywhere near ready to use it.  I hadn't even thought about it since Christmas.

Imagine my surprise at, not 24 hours after closing down my other blog and domain, receiving an email from this provider letting me know we'd just had a sudden huge spike in visits (like, as in from flatline zero to hit after hit after hit), and that, again, the activity seemed suspicious, with several whois searches as well as many unsuccessful file name searches.  Really?  I asked Sarah if she'd been checking out our domain, absolutely not, she'd completely forgotten that I'd even reserved it.  So...the only other person on the PLANET that knew the name of our domain?  Janna Saint James, because I told her about it over the holidays, before her duplicity was exposed to me.  And sho'nuff, seeing the "Jesse"-related search terms was enough to creep me the fuck out.  So, clearly, Janna was still monitoring my blog, and had wrongly assumed that I'd moved my photos to my other domain.

A month later, I was still paranoid about Janna's deception, because she was still, y'know, maintaining that "Jesse" was real and I'd received a postcard from "Aidan" and a package from "Krista" from fucking AUSTRALIA.  I contacted the post office in Australia, asking them if they could pull the slip and tell me who the sender of the package was since I wasn't expecting any packages from there.  They said they couldn't do that, but that they'd get in touch with the sender and it was then up to them to get in touch with me.  Well, a very nice chap sent me an email a day or so later - turns out he works at one of those mail forwarding places - this one, in fact.  Riiiiiight.  He gave me an address for "Krista" in White Plains, NY (that turned out to be the White Plains Mall).  He even remembered what was in the package.  Bravo, Janna!  Too bad I decided to investigate. P.S. have a look at the testimonials page for a good little snicker.  "Aidan B" in Illinois left feedback the exact same week I got the postcard.

So...after all that, I started a private blog to keep my real friends advised as to my whereabouts, as well as where my head was at.  But...I decided to do a test and not let my friends know about it for a week or so, just to see if Janna would try to find me, even though there was no link to the blog from my profile.  I did know there were other ways to find blogs that weren't password-protected, and since Janna's poking around my other sites clearly established to me that she was way way way more computer-conversant than she claimed (and still claims) to be, I decided to see how savvy she really was.

It took a day and a half for her to find me.  My blog tracker told me that, and then she posted something on her blog, asserting that one of my concerned friends had contacted her with my blog address because they were worried about my state of mind, or somesuch horseshit.  Wow, what a headfuck!  Imagine if I HAD told my friends, that would've just twisted me up in knots, making me suspicious of each and every one of them, would've made me question my own sanity.  That's how she operates, and that's what she was counting on.

I bring this all up because to this day, she tries to tweak me.  That's okay, because it hasn't worked a whit since early 2007 - well, it at least hasn't made me feel paranoid and crazy, like maybe "Jesse" really DOES exist etc. etc.   It still irritates the crap out of me, though, but I don't think that's the effect she's trying to have.  And in fact, the irritation is more and more mingled with boredom of late, like reading all the books in Barbara Cartland's oeuvre, and yawningly realizing that book number 101 is just like book number 1, except perhaps just that little bit more ridiculous.

So I hope Janna Saint James Priggie is happy with her new lawyer, because she's going to be seeing an awful lot of her over the next couple of years.  And since the tweaks don't really tweak much anymore, I guess it's a win-win situation.

PS  It's amazing how much all my vintage clothing and household items have accrued in value since I started collecting it almost two decades ago.  I could go on for years.

Occam's razor

Look it up.

This is it from me for a while.

See you in court.

Uh...

Janna...who the hell are you talking to? Martha Stewart? You do realize that it's easy to check to see if anyone's talking to you on Twitter, and nobody's asking you any of the questions you're pretending to answer.

Oh, by the way, I've seen a more recent photo of you, and you're right, you've probably lost about what, 50 or 60 pounds? Only another 100 to go till you're back to your original weight before that tragic rape in the cornfield. Too bad you're still ugly on the inside.

P.S.

A little snippet from a contest blog, about a month ago.



You "haven't made a pendant in forever." Besides for this contest, and of course the ones you keep getting positive feedback for on Etsy. Don't lie if there's incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. Janet.

it ain't over till the fat lady tweets

Janna -

You are a creative typist as opposed to a writer because you use the same situations, the same stories, the same bullshit, over and over. So, get it: the first Judith Krantz book might elicit an emotional response from a novice reader, but upon reading successive books, it becomes quite clear that her talents are VERY limited. Self-plagiarization taken to extremes, formulaic twaddle, and the boldness to make the story incredibly outlandish and convoluted.

So yeah, you may have a hook, but you're a hack. The Brian De Palma of con artists.

(and since you know how much cinema means to me, you know that's a fuckin' insult)

I know you write for you. I'm sure you get off on every person that responds "oh, your story touched my heart and made me cry."

Next time you're in "mixed company," why don't you try this one out: "I'm a sad, fat, twisted old lady with limited talents and an unhealthy obsession with child molestation, who spends her time in internet chatrooms pretending I'm a woman and/or man with a dead son and/or boyfriend." Let's see who laughs at that, especially if Barbara, David, Bill, Marie, Jan, Jenny, Jessica and Dan are in the room.

and another thing

...you wanna get into this, Janna?

Lookit what folks stumbled upon.



Second one down. Four days before you posted the exact same thing on your own Twitter account. Don't bother deleting it, it's already been saved for posterity. Duh.

You wanna know what else folks found? You wanna see more?



If not, then G.O. A.W.A.Y. You lost this one.

P.S. Congratulations on the uni-chin, if you're not lying about that too. What're you down to now, have you hit the 200 lb mark yet? And clearly whatever ails you ain't keeping you from using Twitter an awful lot to make a half-assed attempt to defend yourself, so duping people on the Johnny Weir board and Twitter and Facebook with your sad sack story is just child's play to you (just cut and paste and change the name from Dan to Jesse to Denali). And you're still making/selling your art glass trinkets on Etsy, as ArchipelagoArts and janarchy, hell, you're even entering contests on blogs for people to win your fucking trinkets, so, you can't be that blind.

You're losing it, chica. Call a waaaaahmbulance.

P.S. When you talk about "your" tweets, you might want to double check that it was "Janet Wilder" and not the REAL you who said something before you assert that the real you would never say that. The Christopher Walken comment, f'rinstance. QED. You can't even keep your selves straight. Dipshit.

P.P.S. The point of you pretending to be someone else is that "they" can do things that you cannot. Like just about anything, so of course all the things they say they do you cannot do. Bein' my point.

P.P.P.S. Didn't even realize you had a Twitter account in your real name till just an hour ago, though. It probably only popped up on Google search now because you're posting like fuck.

Addendum

So, this has brought some people out of the woodwork, and I'm happy about that, and some conversations have brought up some extra stuff.

1. I think we need a name, all us people who were conned by Janet Wilder -- sorry -- Janna Hopper St. James Saint James Priggie. Nothing with her name in it, nor anything to do with Irish llama musicians. I was thinking that we're sort of shaping up as the Moriarty to Janna's Schlock Homes, so maybe that.

2. From my conversations with, you know, us up there, the Moriartys, a constant of Janna's big bamboozle is to store up every personal revelation from her target for future ammunition to embarrass and belittle and demean them. She's like a fucking elephant. And it doesn't matter how many years have gone by, she'll drag out that drunken admission by you that you used to think Don Johnson was hot, that you sing Celine Dion songs in the shower, or that you wouldn't kick John Boehner out of bed. But it's funny what pops up about Janna when we converse. So, Janna, you'd better chill, or I might divulge some stuff you don't want people to know about you, your family and the few women that you've managed to keep as your friends all these years, as well as what you really think of them.

And think on this, too: I'm smarter than you. I know stuff about you you don't know I know. Picture a couple dozen angry women who are also smarter than you. I'll give credit where credit is due - you know how to pick 'em, you've got good taste in dupes. I like every single person whose path you crossed, they're intellectuals, and funny! But mostly smart. And happy to contribute to the cause of making it as difficult for you to do this to anyone else again.

So next time you're talking to someone online, when you're sizing them up to see if you can work your sick magic on them, you'd better ask yourself: does this person already know who I am? Because, we might, "janarchy" - kiss kiss.

3. One of the people who reached out to me here was a woman who was a Deadwood board lurker, who'd been following "Jesse's" blog. She contacted me after his "death" from "liver cancer," because she had been fighting her own constant battle with cancer herself. Her name was Kelly, and she gave me the link to her blog. We chatted a bit, and became friendly, keeping in touch every month or so. After the Janna debacle, because I was damaged and paranoid, I found it difficult to trust Kelly, but I'd pop in now and again to read her posts and to comment, but forced myself to be detached. She understood. Well, she's dead now. For realz. Her family posted after and like a normal dead person, there were actual obituaries and a place to send notes and flowers. It's sad that I blew what could have been a good friendship with a funny woman who looked her illness in the eye and managed to still see joy and beauty in the world. And I'm sorry she's gone.

gotcha

So, about once a month, I get an email, or someone posts a comment that says "I think I may have spotted Janna on such-and-such message board," or "I know someone who knows someone who may have gotten scammed by Janna," or, worst of all "I fear I may have been scammed by Janna." I ask them to give me whatever details they've got, and sometimes it's pretty clear it WAS Janna, but she's had time to cover her tracks, so there's little tangible going on.

This time, her scam got nipped in the bud PDQ, before she could do any serious emotional damage to her new targets. Yay! And...she was fast, but not fast enough to wipe away all the proof. Double yay.

Here we go. Keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times.

She pretended to be someone called "Janet Wilder," who was legally blind, who had a son who died two years ago at age 23. She insinuated herself on a message board for Johnny Weir, the figure skater, and, well, let's let her tell her own story.



"But Ephemerina," I hear you say, "how can you be sure this is Janna? Lots of people lose loved ones to cancer."

Well, dear readers, read on.



That's right, all the little "tells" - her fake masters' in psychology, Elvis fucking Presley yet again, and yet another tedious 70s band that really nobody gives a rat's ass about in this new millennium.

Still, I hear you say "it could just be a coinkydink, maybe you're just so paranoid you see Janna everywhere."

Well, doubting Thomases and Thomasinas, take a gander at this:



Nothing interesting to read, but holy cats! look at the avatar. It's those goddamned trinkets she makes.

"But Ephemerina!" you whine. "I really think it's just a whole load of coincidences. Just because reading this crap gave you a hinky feeling, lots of people make those shitty trinkets, and really, it could just have been that this ghostwriter person BOUGHT these trinkets, maybe even from Janna herself, after all this person is in Chicago too."

Christ, you folks are a pain in the ass sometimes.

Further poking around led me to a Twitter account, which confirmed a hunnert percent that this freakazoid was indeed nobody other than Janna Hopper Saint James St James Priggie. She had a Twitter account called WilderThinger, and she deleted it virtually moments after I read it. Way to go, lady. If nothing else woulda confirmed it, that sure as shit did.

However....

Because I nabbed her so soon after her outing, there was lotsa stuff still in Google's cache. Ha fucking ha ha.



That lady in the pic, the one who clearly doesn't know how to act her age? That tye-dyed twat, well, that is absolutely Janna. The looking up at the camera to disguise her chins, you just know she loves this photo.

But, the best thing was, her Twitter account came up with so many other leads. Like her Twitter name before it was WilderThinger.



Jesus tapdancing Christ, on and on with the goddamned crab thing.

It's all gone now, because one thing Janna knows how to do is cover her considerable ass. And I'm sure she's got another scam or two on the trot, with yet more Twitter accounts, so she won't be lonely. After all, pretending to be different people, well that's just like trying on a new pair of shoes, isn't it, Janna? Of course, in Janna's case, the shoes are often steel-toed jackboots, leaving people crushed in her wake.

But not this time. Not this time, Janet, you cunt. This time you got nailed just as you were casting your net. Because you've fucked with too many people over three decades who are not afraid to talk about how you fucked with them, and they've got an awful lot of friends. And there are an obscene amount of people who are Harlan Ellison and Josh Olson fans (and Styx fans too, judging from my data, go figure). All of that adds up to quite the anti-Munchausen-by-internet army, people determined to stop your nonsense by exposing you sooner rather than later.

This is the kind of result I was hoping for. I'm ecstatic that this blog has managed to save at least a small group of people from further heartache by this succubus. Today's a good day.

And Janna? Fuck you very much, from all of us.

...

remarkable, isn't it?

So, here's a few little tidbits from twenty-six-plus years ago. Back when Janna was simply Jann Saint James and even had the letterhead to prove it. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is an alleged letter from Tommy Shaw. We all know it's not. Even Janna knows. The person that Janna pulled the Styx scam on, well, that went so far as for Janna to actually procure a Siberian Husky pup from somewhere, and pretended that Tommy gave it away to her.





Note how even here, a quarter of a century ago, Janna was still making digs about her own weight through other personas. And "Tommy" calls her Janny. Ain't that sweet.

Now, here's a letter that I actually love. A tandem effort by darlin' Janny and "Tommy" talking about their impending wedding. I'm including the envelope so you can all see the date of the postmark, and the location. Even then, Janna was mailing shit from places she didn't live.












It's funny how her own handwriting is so elaborately girly, to detract from the other guy-like handwriting she uses when she's pretending to be a guy. "Tommy" had the same kind of fractured psyche that "Jesse" did. And the same handwriting. To keep you from having to do the fishing, here are some links.

HANDWRITING 1

HANDWRITING 2

I mean, really, there's no doubt here, is there? Or perhaps it's just a really big coinkydink. My ass.

And when Janna -- sorry -- JannY's target had finally become frustrated and suspicious that Janny had been lying, about some things at least, and got herself into a decent relationship with a real fella, Janna shot off this little guilt-inducing missive. She's so goddamned good at it, even more than half her life ago she was the queen of tweakitude.



Nice letterhead, huh?

There's more letters, way more, tons more, and quite a cast of characters, of course peripherally bolstering the validity of the person Janna was impersonating. Her MO.

Eventually, this person and a few other people JannY deceived spoke to her mother about this. So her mother has known about Janna's chronic lies for decades. This serial deceiver is surrounded by enablers - her mother Barbara, her daughter Jessica, her husband Bill, and all the other friends she has that know what she's doing and turn a blind eye to it.

Enablers at the very least, if not outright accomplices.

And considering the mad skillz she has in her skanky, rat-infested toolshed, the internet enhances them a thousandfold. Now, she doesn't even need to handwrite letters much; she can deceive dozens of people at a time, in less time. Thank Jebus for cut and paste!!!

It's sad for me to realize now that I will find it very difficult to trust strangers ever again. She really did take that away from me. I was hoping it would come back, but naw, it's gone for good. I know many of you will say that it's probably a good thing, but all the friends I do have, they were strangers once too. So I guess it's just good that I've got the friends I've got, because it's gonna be tough to get any more. Still, I've just gotta throw another "fuck you" out at her for this. Fuck you, Jan Jann Janny Janet Janna Hopper Saint James St. James Priggie, who is neither British nor Australian nor Russian nor French. Nor a man. Nor interesting.

Sigh.

Funny thing

I've been meaning to do a quick update for some time now, but wouldn't you know it, I've actually been super busy with my real life and chuffed that the blog for my fledgling company gets six times the amount of hits that this site gets. And this site gets a load, although many of them are searches for some other Janna, something to do with sexy times (one would imagine these seekers are flying solo). Then again, who knows, maybe it is the same Janna. She seems to like inflicting sexy times onto her unknowing targets. But my e-comm website, they're all there for ME, man! Yay!

So, anyway, real life intrudes upon the mess Janna made of my past real life. Hence, the quick update turns out to be not so quick.

I think it's important to keep everyone updated, and there ARE a fair amount of people who do check in here, all of them people who knew Janna Saint James Priggie in one of her many masks. This fact is, for me, double-edged. Part of my soul feels bolstered at having these comrades-in-arms, it makes me feel a little less gullible/stupid, because I see how convincing she can be, even in person and not over the intertubes. The other part of my soul feels gutted at knowing other people have been cut to the quick by her, and that even my lawsuit against her hasn't curtailed her impersonation activities one iota.

So let's start with the lawsuit. It's been going on since February 2008 (oh lawsy, almost two years). It's been, I kid you not, to-ing and fro-ing with complaints and responses in a Goldilocks & the Three Bears fashion, where the first complaint wasn't detailed enough, the second was too detailed, mere technicalities, etc etc and really it's just all about delaying it so I run out of money (or patience). There were issues with the judge retiring and a new fella taking his place, more delays and catching up.

Janna's lawyer kept making oblique overtures about Janna's insurance company making some kind of settlement offer for amounts in the neighborhood of $15,000. What the what? Insurance? What kind of insurance covers you against fraud and defamation? I'll have to check my policy, because I'm pretty sure I don't have that in mine. If someone breaks into my car, sure, I'll get reimbursed up to a grand, I think. But fraud? Wow, Batavia's got some comprehensive insurance plans. But who even thinks of getting coverage for this, unless you're already afraid of getting sued for fraud and defamation? WhatEVS. I said thanks, but no thanks.

So, the past almost-two years has been spent just trying to secure a trial. It's cost me a pretty penny, and it's a good thing I have vintage couture up the wazoo, because it's become my Janna Prosecution Fund. Just before Christmas, the new judge orally dismissed the case with prejudice (a tersely scrawled order followed, no actual reason given).

I'm appealing, of course, and don't worry, Goldilocks, we'll draft a complaint that the new judge deems just riiight. But I just did want to put down for the record that it's not cheap, it's a long and painful process, I've been disappointed by this being a potential deterrent, and there's more of the same to come. But...

Janna may have kicked my paranoia into permanent high gear and mangled my trusting nature, but I still have hope that I will emerge from this with the law on my side. My lawyer likes setting precedents, and I still have an assload of vintage, so I'm in this for the long haul.

And that gets me into the next part, now that you know where we are legally. Janna and what she does.

She did this in the late 70s/early 80s, with the band Styx. She convinced many people that she was the beloved of Tommy Shaw, the lead singer of Styx. Before the internet, when it was harder to be faceless. But she was good, nay, great with the letters. I've seen these letters, about darling "Janny," as she was known back then, going on tour with the band. Even then she managed to get the letters postmarked from cities other than her own. Funny how Tommy seemed to exhibit nearly identical symptoms to "Jesse" and blow me if they didn't have identical handwriting too! I'll post Exhibit A here later, when I pull the scans off my external drive.

I'd like to add that I do not believe for a moment any of the things she has alleged about Tommy Shaw, or Dan Fogelberg, or, well, other people she at least had the sense to fabricate after that (except for poor Anne Martel).

So Jan or Jann or Janny or Janet or Janna Saint James St. James or Hopper or Priggie or god knows what has been doing little riffs on this abused/bipolar/suicidal/drugtaking theme for over thirty years. And maybe longer, because lord knows who's gonna get in touch with me in the future. And she's still doing it. I know. People have gotten in touch with me.

So, Janna, some suggestions as to how to keep yourself from being so easily exposed (or found). Things you need to avoid/change to better fool your marks/avoid those you've already burned:

1. Quit with the letter J. Why limit yourself? Call your alter ego something that begins with a different letter, fer chrissake. Baby steps - try the letter K. Krista Kelly Knudson. There ya go. Because, Jessica Jillian James? Really? Really? Jesus Jucking Jhrist, lady.

2. Stop dying of cancer. Try dying of a heart attack, I know it's less drawn-out and you can't milk that as much, but think of the surprise factor that your other alter egos can then capitalize on. And being bipolar is so last decade. Try having Tourettes. Or narcolepsy. That would be good, because then you could combine it and you could die in a horrendous car accident because your narcolepsy kicked in while you were driving. What are the odds? ZOMG!

3. Your obsession with being molested. Stop that. It trivializes what real abuse victims have to deal with.

4. Ditto your obsession with dead children. It trivializes the pain that women who have really lost children have to deal with.

5. And violent rape, in a cornfield or otherwise. It trivializes ... you get my drift. And if you must persist in this lie, at least stop making your assailants Mexican. It's racist. and repetitive.

6. Find another outlet besides #5 above to blame your obesity on. Like maybe Pizzeria Uno. Or Hot Pockets.

7. Llamas, sheep, horses, or any other livestock. A no no.

8. Guys in bands. Seriously. You have to stop saying you were the beloved of/bore the dead child of guys in bands. Especially the bands you chose. In fact, stay away from the topic of music altogether. You know next to nothing about music, and left to your own devices, your taste SUCKS. So, try lawyers or doctors instead. Be the ex of F. Lee Bailey, or Christian Barnard. It'll make you seem smarter, at least.

9. Super-insane fractured families in which all the participants hate each other. Try drawing from a family life other than your own.

10. Stop talking about Dr. Hunter Thompson as if you knew him. If there's anyone that'd transcend the afterlife to kick your ass for demeaning his good name, it's him. Add to that a plea to stop mentioning Ted Bundy, because eeeewwww.

11. Find a new trinket obsession, besides crabs, pirates, skulls, voodoo, mermaids, and the Wizard of Oz. In case you were wondering, you're not one of the good witches. You're the one the house fell on.

12. Stop using ludicrous hippie names for your alter egos. That also means stop pretending you do yoga. A circle can't do a triangle.

13. I don't know what you can use instead of failed suicide attempts; they're just SO convenient in keeping your victims in line, so I guess you can keep this one.

14. Dancing. You. do. not. dance. You can barely walk.

15. Say no to drugs. And multiple personalities.

16. Professions - no more firemen, journalists, EMTs, cowboys, nurses, or teachers. Become something else. Perhaps something more apt - burger flipper, or Wal-Mart greeter.

17. Quit calling yourself a writer. You're a creative typist.


Shit, that's too much for now. I'm sure my list of suggestions could go on and on. But it's a start. If my suing Janna didn't stop her from pulling this shit to date, at least she shouldn't make it so easy for people to figure out who she is.

So, that's it for now.