FUCK

Tonight I was in a very icky mood. (Still am but also on my way to recovery… read on.) I was quite prepared to cry and scream and rant in text, but probably not actually post, about how I feel ten ways to horrible but then I got home. I walked in all teary and walked right into my brother. I had already cried till I was dry, I was a whole sore throat past the screaming, but still had the rant left in me. I had just started when he told me with a little laugh, “shut up.” And damn, who knew how much that could help? Sometimes I really need someone who loves me to tell me to shut up. Then there was the pretty smell of lilacs, the smell of my backyard in summer, from a big bouquet on the kitchen table. And then my cat, Jack, who was waiting for me on the toilet when I walked into the bathroom to pee. And my nightly ritual of chips and salsa finished off the list of good to end the night.

Recipe for happiness:
1. “Shut up.”
2. Lilacs.
3. Cats on toilets.
4. Chips and salsa.


A new universal truth I have recently learned:

1. If you have a flower lei hanging from your rear view mirror in your car, then you are one nasty fucker. That’s not your natural hair color nor your natural tan. Get your vanity plates away from me and act your age because you’re sure as hell not older than 17. And if, by chance, you are older than 17, then it’s because you’re the 17 year olds mother and you shouldn’t try to look like her because it’s scary and your driving is worse. Also, go the fuck away.