Saturday, December 25, 2010
I am back home after nearly ten days of non-stop whirlwind action. And not the good kind of Steven Segal action. The really shitty-ass phone call and funeral home and death certificate kind that requires either a lifetime supply of Valium or hourly shots of Southern Comfort. I flew into Boston yesterday afternoon and then had to do some quick Christmas shopping and then we went to Mike and Judy's for some holiday cheer and then back home so that I could torture myself by watching A Christmas Story twice instead of cleaning the house from roof to baseboards. It's not fithy or anything. But it do smell like c-a-t and I want to shove a Renuzit in every electrical socket, including my nostrils. How are you? People ask, and I don't even know what to tell them. Okay. Functioning. Sad. Pissed the hell off. Depressed. Angry. Lonely. Mostly I'm just waiting on my Daddy to call me and wish me a Merry Christmas. Aw, fuck me.
Posted by Janet Scronce at 11:18 AM