I don’t think anyone really wants to hear my political screeds. Everybody pretty much knows everything I have to say about the subject anyway, and the whole world has known this for about 10 or 15 years (except for the clearly delusional conservatives) so there’s really no need to belabor the point. In short, conservatives, you created a parallel media ecosystem of lies to enable fascists to recreate the horrors of the 20th century and I will laugh uproariously to exhaustion when it backfires on you and you are remembered as blights on human history until your dying day. Maybe you can move to South America so nobody will recognize your stupid fat faces.
Anyway. I’ll pick up where I left off with my episodic life history. Checking the past entries I see the last “phase” of my life I discussed was living with Delbert in Garage Apartment 709 on [REDACTED] Highway in [REDACTED]. This was a terrible time of alcohol, loneliness, and piles of cumrags so it’s best we move on, I think.
The next “phase” of my life was a place we all came to know as “Languid Creek.” My brother was moving up in the world at his medical billing company so he developed the resources to afford a small townhouse in a “gated” community called Languid Creek Court. It was by no means luxurious or exclusive, just unit after unit of modest little middle-class townhouses (probably built in the 70’s judging by the architecture) and a collection of deciduous trees that were apparently all dying without any observable indications of that fact. They did have a swimming pool, though!
At the time, bro was dating a girl I’ll call Lorraine and she was an excellent match for him. Plain, like he was. Humble. Agreeable. Hardworking. She was adopted, so she wasn’t presumptuous at all, and mostly supportive to bro. Not enough for bro though, he was ripped at the time and wanted to chase tail. Also coming off a months-long period of alcoholism due to probation from that vehicular manslaughter charge I think I described (got to make sure to search and see if that’s actually in here, I relentlessly edited most actual crimes out of this journal).
Suffice it to say my bro, being a drunk materialistic piece of shit, only had one thing to say about Lorraine: “I basically stay with her because she has the tightest vagina of any bitch I’ve ever been with.” Ugh. What a sickening little toad. After a year or two Lorraine issued an ultimatum: commit or I’m gone. Bro is a completely selfish waste of human flesh so he wouldn’t, and she left to date an insensitive bass fisherman, which bro would complain about drunkenly while she pretended to be happy, as if that wasn’t completely his stupid ass fault.
Can you tell I’ve descended into my “bitter old Southern woman on the porch swing with a bottle of Jack and a shotgun” Life Stage?
[TO BE CONTINUED]
