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I sing Happy Birthday to Jesus on December 25th. I get all pissy and cranky when someone tries to break into my prayer closet. It gets ugly - hockey fights soothe me. I find thunder and lightning comforting. The last man who punched me in the face stopped reproducing - FOREVER.


This “Cow” Does Give Milk

February 3, 2017


However, if you want the “milk” ignorant , rude, obnoxious people (usually with penises), you will HAVE TO BUY THE COW! That payment is as follows – you are sober most of your year. You give me a ring and legal paperwork. You have a real single-family home with the following: indoor plumbing, closets, windows, a washer dryer, a dishwasher, plenty of storage and one of you’re goals in life is to live debt free.

Also, anyone who “hollas” at me – “womern, fetch me a beer” will be responded to as follows: I will retrieve a white board, I will spell out the word W-O-M-A-N and inform you the you don’t need a beer, you need to know how to spell and that you have issues with reading comprehension.

I am no man’s “side dish”, “piece on the side” or any other such thing. It is a shame that real men don’t know a good woman then they see on males I’ve met along the way. It’s also a shame that the men in my own country United States of America don’t want to keep the good woman with genius level IQ’s in their own country.

The Lord God Almighty had better be arranging a marriage for me that indicates that he understands with complete clarity that I understand I will likely have to “marry down”, but I surely will not be marrying dirt, filth, classless, immature buffoon. That will result in the end of this entire UNIVERSE AS BOTH ANGEL AND HUMAN KIND KNOW IT! DO NOT TEST ME.

I was operating well above the heads of you “OLD BOYS CLUB” of the NHL. Every anonymous identity who has EVER made contact with me shall be identified to me IMMEDIATELY. HEADS MUST ROLL FOR THIS ONE.


Peace – Pastor Mia – @ganstahoflove

Archangel Michael – I want a ride home RIGHT NOW! Jesus cannot provide me a proper husband – it then is HE who has broken a promise. This is now on the Angelic record and on the HUMAN record via the world wide web.

Thank you. Any Angel pretending to be God shall immediately be placed in containment. Any human who is pretending to be he or she is not and who does not possess a SAG card shell be visited by and “unfriendly” visitor.

I ask for sanctuary Jesus – it SHALL BE PROVIDED TO ME.



Yes, I do Have A Plan God and It may Not Be Good News For Some

January 19, 2017

Personally, I don’t really know what happens when we die, but I do know I’m hoping I’ll get time on “the other side” to bully the crap out of the bullies. I’m hoping I get a chance to seek out those who, to this day still live and who told me I’m like family to them. Those same people had no problem booting me to curb when I got sick. Those same people had no problem being craptastic, ignorant human beings at all. I understand. My plan:  Suicide. What I can hope is that I’ll die rip-roaring pissed off. Once I leave my body I’ll find every human who has found joy and happiness in pouring flammable liquids on living humans and animals, then gleefully light them on fire for real. I will have no mercy on your souls. There will be ZERO survivors. NONE.

Then I will move onto the people who thought God saved you so that you could teach about how great Jesus is and “spread the word”. Now it is in writing, right out in the World Wide Open internet – Every torment you laid out on others will be laid upon you, only TEN TIMES WORSE. Oh, see, I am aware of the fact that Jesus is the famous one in the family. That’s going to stay that way.  Me, well, I’m the not-so-perfect one in the family. You will experience a taste of hell your brains could not ever comprehend for a short period of time. Once you have, you then will be even more grateful to the Lord God Almighty that I didn’t put you in a place where that lasts for all eternity.

Next, I’m going to find all those people who knowingly and willfully used women and children as shields in any sort of combat, of any kind. You, I will end slowly and painfully. I will then bring you back to life and do it again. That’s not what I’m unleashing in Heaven loud mouth liars claiming to know God. That’s something reserved for those of you who are in flesh on/in Earth. The sanctity of Heaven shall remain in tact. Make no mistake, I am not your friend. You will come to appreciate the mercy of God.

Don’t think I forgot about you people who beat on the weak and feeble. You will get haunted in numerous ways. Just when you think all is well and you start moving on with your life, I will come at you again from a different direction. You will want to run. You will want to hide. You will want to get “Holy” people to assist you. You will confess all your sins to the Lord of Lords and then you will die. Rest assured, I will know who you are, where you live and exactly what you have done while breathing air in/on Earth.

No prison can contain me. No prayer will save you from understanding why NONE of is God. None of you should be doing the thinking for God. None of you can kill God. What you can do however, is take it. Then you will take it some more. Every tear of fear and terror you have caused you will cry each one a thousand times. The only option any of have is the Jesus option. When I do commit suicide, and that is the plan, I will also be on “the other side” and if you are not league with the Lord God Almighty on that side. Know this, I am not your friend. I will put you in the eternal hell right where you belong.

ENOUGH! Enough innocent blood has been shed. Enough! For those so consumed by evil they simply cannot come back from it – you will find out exactly what the power of God means. Between the two of us there “Beast”, the female Beast, yes that would be me, is much larger than the male. This will not be fun. This will not be a good time. This will be pure and utter hell for you. You will know the pain you have caused. Make a note of it. You and all your crazy women are headed for the wrong end of eternity.

My very least favorite type and kind are the child molesters and rapists. What will I do to you? Well, that’s for me to know and for you to find out the excruciatingly hard way. Dealers choice!

I know I will come out of this just fine – DO YOU?

I do not fear evil, but Holy Redeemer do I absolutely shutting it the flock down.

For the kids out there, if you are ever in a paradise garden and a serpent starts yapping it’s unholy flap at you; find the biggest stick in the garden and smash the serpent in the pie hole. Don’t stop doing that until the slithery, lying puss bucket comes crashing down out of the tree and hits the ground. Then yell at the top of your lungs, “because God said so, that’s why!” Good job kids.

I’m a National Hockey League hockey fan, that simply will not change.

It as they say, is ON.

See ya, Mia

Thanks for not giving a crap about me people who actually know me and did nothing to help me. Screw you very much.


The Seller’s of Information Are Often Like Vultures Picking at Wounds

December 26, 2016


For any who have lost a loved one and were the people left behind to deal with the deceased’s will, personal possessions and burial, you may know what I mean. Upon the death of my last family member (cousin’s excluded), I experienced the the not so joyful task of cleaning out years upon years of personal items collected over three generations, located in one home. Not one week after the death of my mother, the vultures began circling, like hungry, cold animals with no souls. I became acutely aware of exactly how much information gets sold on Earth these days. The auctioneers swarmed with their mail and phone calls. The “quick sale” house flippers bounded gleefully into my life as though for some reason someone had just given them a prize. I can read you, like dark ugly books. Gifts of the Spirit are as real as the demons some of you “rock stars” have sex with.

In the good name of our Holy Father God, may the buyers and sellers of information, suddenly actually feel compassion and love and may all or your loving children’s grief not include the vampires of the soul-less buying and selling their grief as though it were stock. Thank you Jesus. Amen. (If you read this and agree, simply say “Amen”).

Why would any of you think I want to stay alive in this world, and bare children to it? God’s plan may be God’s plan – I don’t want to stay with the venomous planet Earth.

I will not accept any treatments for any illness. There is good this world only because of a baby named Jesus. The rest of it – COMPLETE AND TOTAL CRAP.

Hey you all just have to “express yourselves”, well I’m in the U.S., so I will do the same.

Peace, Pastor Mia, I love you + I “like” death threats, they really only confirm my decision – I will not stay alive for any of you. Protective men – I did not receive proof of that and that was promised to me. Cowards can’t even kill me right.

Come and kill me – I do not fear you. 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD  21050 – Remove my name from all charitable giving lists. Home God, just home. Now, Thank you.


Sober Saves Lives – A Letter To All The Drinkers I’ve Ever Known

November 18, 2016


Hello. Thanks for stopping by and reading. Today, I’m typing about something some people don’t want to think about. Alcohol related deaths. I’ve met many interesting people along the way so far. Quite a few of them are now deceased. Some of them are probably still out there. Some of them really didn’t like me and maybe still don’t. Yeah, I don’t care if people who clearly have problems with alcohol and drugs don’t like the fact that I want them to be healthy and sober. Sometimes the party and the fun ends badly.

Let me give you a written picture of one day when I was 17. On that day, I got a call from my mother (may she be resting blissfully in peace). She was frantic and highly distraught. My father (may he also be resting blissfully in peace) had been involved in a solo car accident and was flown to shock trauma. I was alone at home and had no money to pay the toll to drive to the hospital in the city. Thankfully, a neighbor down the street loaned me toll money and off I went as quickly as I could. I parked in staff parking which led to a parking ticket, wandered around the hospital in shock searching for the emergency surgical unit wondering if perhaps I had lost my dad. At some point I found an elevator in the emergency room and the surgeon who had just worked on my dad was standing next. He could see I was worried and asked if he could help me locate someone. When I told him I had come to find my dad who had arrived a few hours before, he told me he’d just come out of surgery with my dad and that he had died on the operating table. Very quickly however, he told me that my dad had been revived and was in recovery. I was then lead off the elevator and shown to my dad’s room where my mother and several nurses were hovering over the wrecked body of my father. His name was Fritz.

There he was, laying unconscious on a hospital with tubes, monitors, pins in his arms and legs and covered with bandages. I felt sick. I had to leave the room. I went down the hall to the vending machines and stood there staring at packaged sandwiches for a good long while. Eventually, I purchased a tuna sandwich and a soda. Once I went back to my dad’s room, I was ready to hear the prognosis. No one knew at that point if he was going to with us by daybreak. Morning came and he was still alive. Finally my mother and I made our way home and began to discuss visiting schedules. I was still in high school, so obviously I was to take the afternoon shifts. Days went by and my father’s status was still critical. Eventually, he was moved to a room in the intensive care unit where he spent the next two months. That accident happened within two miles of our family home.

After two different complicated surgeries involving both skin grafts and vein grafts, he was allowed to come home. It had been three months since his accident and he was still in pretty bad shape. His car had been totaled, so when the family got a chance to purchase a new car for him – it had to be an automatic. He was now disabled and couldn’t drive a manual. My mother and I drove him around for almost a year before he could get behind that wheel again though. Several years later, I received another phone call.

This time it was my mother informing me that the car I used to drive back and forth to work had been trashed. Come to find out my older brother used it the night before and proceeded to lie everyone, including the insurance company stating that someone else was driving, but he was drunk and couldn’t remember who. It turned out, he wasn’t wearing his seat belt and his head flew into the windshield closer to the passenger side and cracked the windshield. Those who investigated the accident bought my brother’s story and he wasn’t charged with a DWI. I had to walk to work everyday after that. That accident happened less than 1/4 mile away from our family home. The next phone call I remember came as less of shock.

My dad had been arrested outside the local adult beverage store, because he backed into an off-duty police officer’s car and had a blood-alcohol level high enough to get jail time for a DUI. At first he was on work release. Later he was on home detention. That accident happened within 1/2 mile from our family home. But wait, there’s more. A lot more.

Next alcohol related news my family received happened while my mother was on vacation. That happened often at this point. I was alone at home and wouldn’t you know it I get a phone call from the local hospital informing me that my father was in the hospital and receiving treatment for minor wounds and insulin shock. He was later charged with a DWI. He crossed the double-yellow line and hit a mini-van with an entire family in it, including a new born child. Thank God those people were not hurt. This time the courts decided to give my dad home detention, so at the very least he couldn’t get a hold of alcohol any more. A NOT TO DIABETICS – YOU AND ALCOHOL ARE NOT FRIENDS. YOU WILL NEVER BE FRIENDS. COME TO TERMS WITH THIS. GET YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS IN THE KNOW ABOUT THAT. NOW. NO, RIGHT NOW.

Another phone call I remember was about my brother F. Christian who had been in a truck with his friends. He was drunk. They were hit head on by another drunk. The fact he was drunk may have actually saved his life. He was flown to shock trauma. His head went through the windshield. My dad went and picked him up that same day. For some reason he was released with shards of glass in his head. I spent the next two hours in the bathroom picking glass out of my brother’s bloody, head and face. He was scarred for life. Now comes the part of this real life story that I will be more specific about.

I had two beautiful little twin boys named Ryan and Thomas. There father and I were living together and were discussing marriage. We met at a Washington Capitals game. Those who know me can probably guess how thrilled I was to meet a fellow ice hockey fan. I was just couldn’t imagine anything better, because I grew up around football and baseball fans. I mean we were both Caps fans. One day, I woke up and, as women often do, felt sick to my stomach. I had a feeling I was likely pregnant. I was happy and scared, but told my man that I thought I was pregnant. His reaction seemed encouraging. We both went to work and on the way home from work I bought a pregnancy test.

I bounded through the front door and headed right to the bathroom. I peed on the stick, put it on the sink and went to the living room to turn on the TV while waiting for the results. That’s when I noticed that all of my boyfriends furniture was gone. There was no note. I couldn’t think, so I went up to the bathroom and saw the positive result on the pregnancy. There I was standing in my house, alone and pregnant. I called my boyfriend, but his phone number had been disconnected. I called his sister and she told me he didn’t want to talk to me and she hung up the phone. I found out later that he told her a bunch of lies about me and did not inform her that he had run like a sad, pathetic little boy from his responsibility as a father.

My parents couldn’t help me, so I raised two little boys by myself. When they were around 4, there father tracked me down and appeared at my door. He wanted to be involved in their lives. I was weary and cautious. I wanted to do the right thing for my children, so I agreed to let him spend time them under supervision. When they were about 5 1/2, he and I made arrangements with the help of social services to plan for him to get custody every other weekend. That process took a bit of time, because I wasn’t too keen on letting a runner have parental control of my children. Eventually though, he had shown signs of some fatherly maturity so, for my kids sake, we set a date for him to have unsupervised custody of the twins and at the age of 6, I put my two little men into a car and sent them off with someone who I have trouble even to this day describing as a man, never to see them alive again.

Long story short, their father, his brother and a few friends had been drinking the night they were meant to come back home to me for the week. Their father loaded them into the car and buckled them into their car safety seats. What he neglected to do however, was buckle the safety seats into the car. He was intoxicated and although his brother made a meager attempt at telling him he shouldn’t drive, he got in the car and headed to me.

He was driving at the speed of 50 mph and crossed the yellow line plowing directly into a mini-van travelling at the same speed driven by a grandmother who had just visited her ailing husband in the hospital after stroke. Her name was Mona. She had a van full of gifts for her 6 grandchildren who she was planning to see the next day at a family reunion. My children immediately became little torpedoes who flew from the back seat into the windshield. No one survived the accident. I got a phone call several hours after expecting the return of my children informing me that I had to come to the local hospital. All the man would tell me on the phone was that my children had been involved in a motor vehicle accident. That accident happened 2 miles away from my house.

Here’s why I don’t think bad driving, distracted driving, drunk driving or drugged driving is at all, in the slightest a light or laughing matter people having a big party with your lives: I had to walk into a cold, sterile room and walk up to a metal slab and see my little children who had recently learned how to ice skate mangled and twisted – DEAD with bits of their skin torn completely away from their precious little bodies. One of my children was missing an eyeball.

I have no sympathy for you people who refuse to admit you have a problem. ZERO SYMPATHY. It took me five years to forgive their father. I’d say the simple fact that I could walk into a building filled with Washington Capitals fans at all, let alone continue to support that team no matter what kind of crappy game they could sometimes put on ice was quite an accomplishment. Every single time I saw a Capitals fan after my children died was a reminder of their father. It took everything I had to get a season seat in 2007-2008 and go sit around a bunch of people who were a constant reminder a male with a penis who used to be Capitals fan.

One year after the accident that killed his brother and my children, the twins’ father’s brother committed suicide wracked with guilt over the fact he didn’t put in an effort to take the keys away from his brother that night. His parents lost their only sons and their only grandchildren in a year. Both of them died in a drinking and driving related car accident three years later. Many lives destroyed. My life changed forever.

I’ve met some families who ignore their family members problems. I’ve met some people who don’t suck it up, take the hit and get their loved ones into rehab. I don’t have nice things to say to any of either. Share this with everyone you know. It can happen to you. YOU ARE NOT IMMORTAL.


Peace – PastorMia –

My Groupie, Puck Bunny and Victim Skills Just Plain SUCK – Deal With It

October 18, 2016


For those who aren’t cowards who roam the internet, I know you know I’m not referring to you, but I’m mentioning it now so that there are absolutely no misunderstandings.

For those who are cowardly ground-cursed, scum-slithers whose ancestors got downed by God and hide behind fake “social” (the more operative term is “anti-social”) media “personas”, cowering in your flesh bags as though some faux-deity dubbed you “King” or “Queen of Cool” – have a good time quivering in your sad, unholy skin.

My name is Maria “Mia” Lueth. I have been known as “Jag” while defending a net. I have also been known as a nick-name a former boyfriend called me that is Rated R and implies that I know my way around a man and have some skills in that milieu. When I have something to say, I don’t hide behind a mask. I just put my face right there online (VLOGS happen) and say it. I also type it. If you had the intestinal fortitude to come on over to my apartment to say what you want to say, I would listen to you. You’d at the very least get kudos for “balls” or “boobs”. Until then, I will simply dispel a rumor that circulates every-so-often when folks get bored or whatever it is some of you out in the world get. I never had sex with Vanilla Ice. I have had sex with a certain musician who I was dating. He had to pay a company to keep my name out of the press. He cheated on me twice. I said good-bye and I never looked back. He has to beg people to work with him these days. Done deal.

Yes, I will date actors, but no those who have to stay in character all the time. Not for me. Simple enough.

I almost married an ice hockey player, but shortly before we were to be wed, he was killed in a car accident. It was an accident. The driver survived and of course I forgave him and sent him prayers for recovery and a few humorous cards to make him laugh a little. Laughter heals. That is truth.

I do remember when Baltimore had an ice hockey team. I managed to get in on helping out someone who worked in the evenings to make ends meet for his family. I helped him clean up after concerts, events and ice hockey games. I remember this one time, I got up the courage to talk to one of the “Big Guy” ice hockey players. I was a young 14-year old female whose dream job just happened to be a job working for a National Hockey League. I wanted to ask a few questions, because I love ice hockey. Interestingly, there weren’t many adults around and for some strange reason this ice hockey player who was at least 10 years my senior thought I was curious about his penis.

Here’s something that “person with a penis” (man is too generous a description), didn’t realize that my late Earthly father one Major Fritz H. Lueth, decorated Korean war vet, never let his little girl go places unprepared. Swiss Army knives, butterfly knives and small multi-tools come in handy for a variety of purposes. Fast forward to now, there’s a male who gets NHL money walking around with a scar on his upper-left thigh. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself around the “Old Boys Fraternity” known as the National Hockey League. Go on Twitterati – tweet this on over to @TBLightning and @NHL – it’ll be fun – you’ll like it. I dare ya.

By the way Baltimore, the Orioles used to an ice hockey team. True story.

I’ve been wanting to get married and take care of a man for quite a while now – years actually – so let’s accelerate the process shall we God. Thank you daddy. I love you.

Just so everyone is all happy and smiley, I’ll mention that the adult who put chemicals in a beer he gave me when I was 13 and then proceeded to rape a paralyzed teenage female, that’d be me – as mentioned a while back on my blog, was prayed for by me as well. I mean, no worries law enforcement types, I introduced him to Jesus via prayer. I wouldn’t any misunderstandings. Sometimes people misunderstand me. Like this one time I told this other guy I was dating that I wanted to go to an ice hockey game for my birthday and he thought I said I wanted to go a dinner theater. Well, pardon me, I thought English was his first language.

If you actually want to be my friend, you should know this – I like friends who will stand by your side and walk straight through the bowels of hell with ya and then tell people you were at the opera. I don’t fair weather anything. I don’t usually care who started it, but I always know whose going to finish it.

For the single males who I can legally take over state lines on this good planet, I’m aiming at marriage and I DON’T DO DIVORCE. All in, or nothing at all.

Somebody must have prayed for a wife God, otherwise why do I feel such a hankering for marrying and making babies? It’s overwhelming for some reason. Did you know you can order up a dude on Craigslist? WOWEE!

I love you – peace – The UnPC Pastor Mia – 410-980-1173,, 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD 21050.

PS – If any of you lurkers who read my blog want me to get a SAG card, you will be needing to pay me. I might be just a little to hot for reality TV.

We thank you father God for looking after us, keeping us in your good light and providing for our needs. You Rock. It is in the name of Jesus we pray. Poor people like to eat food. Amen.



A Different Kind Of Romance

October 16, 2016


Sometimes I write poetry and create lyrics my friends. (I’m owed music royalties – I rather think those who owe me those royalties would rather deal with lawyers as opposed to a guy his mom calls “The Butcher” wouldn’t you? 😉 ) I’m a very reasonable woman. I’ve recently read some of the poetry written by some of my blog followers. Some of it’s deep and some of it’s a bit, light, yet with a touch of hickory. Thanks for sharing.

Hey, U.S. Military I’ve been remembering all the fun I’ve had on this planet. Yeah, it was a super great time I had over there at the MEPS in the early 90’s. I just couldn’t believe it, I scored so well on the ASVAB that I qualified for ATC. The best part about that experience was the part where ALL OF MY PERSONAL SENSITIVE DATA (Driver’s licence, social security card, etc.) just up and disappeared out the not-so-secure lockers YOU provide to Navy hopefuls. True story. I guess you wanted to top that complete disregard for my safety and comfort as a U.S. American citizen by allowing OPM to get hacked a couple of years back, and yet again ALL OF MY PERSONAL SENSITIVE DATA (Bank accounts, employment history, etc.) was compromised by people who, as the news put it “were just trying to figure out what criteria the U.S. uses to obtain national security clearances. Something I did, in fact obtain.

I feel all happy and safe and warm and fuzzy my own government. Although, upon further review, I think I need a gigantic SIGN FROM GOD to let me know if my government actually likes or not. If not, let me know. Simple fix, HELLO CANADA – I HAPPEN TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A SANCTUARY COUNTY AND I LOVE ICE HOCKEY SO MUCH, I LET DUDES ON MY PICK-UP LEAGUE PUNCH ME IN THE STOMACH, MORE THAN ONCE.

I know you likey that shiny Cup that used to be owned by a Lord CANADA. Hey, me too. We should be friends. I like a lot Canadian Music. It all reminds me of hockey. I’ll marry Canadian. God, then hockey, then sex, then being nice to your neighbors. I’m pretty sure I got the order correct this time.


Yes, Steve Yzerman, I ripped all the “Q” page out of the dictionary. Why, QUIT IS NOT A WORD.

I hope all of you are well. God Bless the sticks, the pucks, the clothes, the plane, the skates, the equipment, and the glasses on Steve Yzerman’s face. Hallelujah. Amen. Thank you Father God.

The “hockey gods” don’t run me. I run the “hockey gods”.

Sure, I’ll date a defense man who goes both ways. There’s nothing hotter than a good two-way game.

It’s hockey season. I need a husband. I don’t lie. It’s just true. The ice hockey fraternity wants me. My hockey IQ just keeps getting higher and higher. Try me out and see for yourselves. I used to dream of the Stanley Cup when I was a little kid too National Hockey League types. I have something in common with Lightning GM Steve Yzerman. No penis. No problem. I see ice hockey games in fluid dynamics.

One day, someone will actually take me seriously. Until then, I’m still planning to do a Jesus-lifting, charity 1000 mile walk to Tampa Bay, FL. Well, the employment page for the Lightning says I should be local. Okay, I’ll get local.

Body of Christ unity. Live it. Love it. GO GOD. Of course I want a cure for a cancer <—–(Punk az frick nut that deseres New York cab driver body language), I get the “joy and pleasure” of living with it – every frickin’ day. I’m not dead yet planet Earth. Don’t pay any attention to any rumors any of you hear – Define what you mean by “Alien”.

Go Bolts! #LoversGonnaLove

I love you (some of you should understand – Kingdom of God wise – not romantically – but LOVE nonetheless). No, ladies, I don’t want your husband. I want my own. No husbands, I give you that old stinky glove PAW IN THE FACE if you even spark a thought I want to see your “little head” which is often, NOT WHAT YOU SHOULD BE THINKING WITH.

Peace – Pastor Mia – 410-980-1173. Phone conversation is not a lost art. Don’t be shy. Communicate. I’m friendly and I’m glad a great many of you have never had to identify the dead bodies of your own children. LOVE THEM WELL MY FRIENDS. LOVE THEM WELL.


The National Hockey Gypsy League (Don’t Try To Save Me From The Ice Hockey)

October 12, 2016


Okay fine, I’ll be on TV – okay. Fine – I’ll write a book. I need an agent and book deal. Hey thanks. 😉 Hi there interesting people who read. I like ya. You’re neat.

I’m not sure how many hockey fans read my blog, but for those who are and you’ve been at it for at least 20 years, you’ll have to agree – it’s turned into a League of roving gypsies. I mean you take a break for a summer and as you start gearing up for a new season lo, you discover “what!? – “who got traded for who now?” “The coaches gypsy too! Crazy eyes Boucher is back! Sorry Mike Yeo, Gabby’s gone WILD!  The Hawk’s Joel Quenneville is boring. I mean it would be much better if he switched places with his buddy Ken Hitchcock over there at the St. Louis Blues.

Dear National Hockey League Goalies,

Your pads need to lose weight and say hello to Conner McDavid. No one can prove I had anything to do with it. NO ONE.

I’m still deciding about my ministry name. I was thinking “Jesus On Ice Musical Ministry” or “God Rocks The World Ministry.” I also need to get back to tweeting apparently. So the “artist formerly know as @creasinger” may end up on twitter soon as @GangstahOfLove or @TheUnPCPastor, I haven’t decided. What do you think?

I like talking to radio shows. It’s fun. 410-980-1173. Strangers too.

That’s right single men. Sometimes I check you out. I’m a single lady after all. Grins.

I’ll admit it – I can’t lie – I told God that if he doesn’t find me a husband soon – there shall be backsliding – a lot of backsliding. I mean hockey season is mating season. Yes it is. That’s final.

Thank you father God for inspiring a few helpers who want to help me coordinate a ONE THOUSAND MILE WALK through most of the old Southeast division.  Cancer’s like a tired old hockey goon as far as I’m concerned. I’m waiting for some brave soul to let me know what charity or charities I’m walking for. No – you tell me. I’m doing it. Maybe I’ll sing the whole way too! You’re enthusiasm is killing me twelve people who read my blog. God is good.

I love you – peace – Pastor Mia 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD 21050,

Go Bolts! MAN U!

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