YOU CAN HAVE THE FUCKING HOUSE. I WILL PAY YOU TO TAKE IT. Of course, I only have 86 cents in my checking account (remember, I’m living the fucking dream, my my, the language here today!). BAD DAY TO MENTION IT. Just clean out the weapons, rotting potatoes, and bibles, and it’s fucking yours. But you inherit Frank. Think long and hard about inheriting family that isn’t blood justified. Just family in the sense that you, somehow, become responsible for his well-being when he can’t get off his white trash, not-gonna-work-because-my-parents-are-republican-and-I’m-entitled ass (hell yes I’m pissed) long enough to come up with rent but gets mad at YOU when you say you need to take care of yourself and the gravy train has closed. I WILL TRADE YOUR IN-LAWS FOR FRANK. ASK MARDI IF IT’S WORTH IT.
Been a busy month, new blog entry coming soon.
OK, OK, I FEEL BETTER NOW. IF THAT’S TRUE, WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL YELLING?
K, gonna go bond with who I assume is my new honorary niece, Beaner. She saved a hamster in my eviction today and has absolved me of any guilt associated with surrendering yet another creature to Animal Services (aka Euthanasia by the lowest bidder). I’ve named the hamster Briscoe in honor of the evictee. I don’t think Mar and Beth WANT a hamster but have allowed Beaner to keep it because they sense I am a woman on the edge and right now I need to know the abandoned hamster’s fate is secure. That’s me, I can put a family of seven on the streets without blinking, but god forbid the HAMSTER is homeless. I like to think it’s part of my charm rather than pathological.
I have GOT to get rid of this house. I have holes in my stomach the size of the crater that came from the meteor that hit earth and subsequently killed the dinosaurs. It’s like goddamn Pacific Heights over there, just waiting for Frank to build me a dollhouse.
