I’m conscientiously objecting to Thanksgiving dinner with my family this year, in favor of sleeping in, not driving, and avoiding small talk, and now having an irresponsible quantity of Indian food delivered and getting ready to scare myself shitless by watching Ma in the dark.
It is easily one of my top 5 best mental health choices of the year.
I hope you’re all having an equally wondrous and self-determined holiday, and if you’re not, I hope there’s alcohol and pie.
Father’s Day is interesting when both you and your sister are mad at your father for being a passive-aggressive dumbass and — let’s be honest — for always choosing his other family over you. Especially when you don’t feel welcome in his home right now, anyway, because his wife is a psychotic cunt. (Psychoticunt?)
What’s good, Hallmark? Where’s my cute, clever card for this?
The therapist said it’s perfectly acceptable for me to just text him, so…score.
Sorry, man, but…ya know — cats, cradle, etc. For once I gotta choose me instead of keeping peace. You’re both already pissy with me — fuck it, I might as well get a relaxing Sunday out of it.
P.S. My therapist didn’t know “Cat’s in the Cradle,” and I’m honestly stunned they don’t teach that shit in therapy school. That and “Daddy Wasn’t There.” Y’all need to re-examine your curriculum. Music education is important.
On one hand, canceling plans IS my favorite. Very little in life is better — dogs, sure, but not much else.
On the other hand, meeting dudes at my friends’ huge parties has been the only successful route to nookie I’ve had in recent memory, and I’m kinda pissed I’m too sick to go prowlin’, because I am cute as fuck in Christmas garb.
Plus there’s definitely a dog there.
Fuck you and your betrayin’ ass, Body. This is NOT the bed I want to be in.🖕🏼