This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

I Don't Know How She Does It

Ugh. Okay, I think when my best friend Bunny Walker recommended I watch and review a movie with Sarah Jessica Parker in it, she was thinking the main issue I'd have is the hatred I used to harbor for her based on my scorching Matthew Broderick crush - but I've grown out of that. Way out of it.

You see, my best friend's favorite reviews of mine involve films I despise - and even without still obsessing over SJP's husbro, being forced to watch something she's in is a pretty safe bet I'll volunteer to throw a rock at my television and quit the planet for the evening.

But I love my Bunny Walker, and I'll do almost anything she asks, except watch this damnable thing a second time.

Allow me to heave a sigh and get started.

First thing's first - as Netflix took its time loading, this is the image it offered me as I waited:

It felt like I was looking into a mirror that turned me into Sarah Jessica Parker, and I was pleading with myself not to go through with it. I didn't listen. I never heed the warnings of my heart.

Kate (SJP) and Richard Reddy (Greg Kinnear) are working married parents who haven't yet figured out that it's no longer the 60s and that everything involving the house and children isn't momma's sole responsibility. I mean fuck - when was the critically acclaimed novel this film was based on written? Oh, just 2003. Back when girls were girls and men were men. Those were the d--well, maybe the book was better. I pray it was.

None of the characters were truly likeable. Kate Reddy's friend Allison (Christina Hendricks) was tolerable most of the time. Digestible, even. Everyone else gave me gas.

As you can guess, Kate tries to have it all, and does none of it as well as it could be done. Man, when was the last time I ran across this theme? You mean to tell me every single story about a working mother is this same boring, predictable, gender role stereotyping, corny bullshit? No wonder I'm holding a fistful of my own hair.

At least this movie had totally different and innovative stuff in it, like misunderstandings involving e-mails sent to the wrong person, grass-is-always-greener moments, judgmental mother-in-laws, snarky fellow mothers, getting-it-right-alright musical montages and freeze-frame fourth wall bashing - plus really clever crap like calling yourself a "giant, un-tweezed eyebrow". Ahahahahaha. Ha.

I almost gave up completely when Kate Reddy was questioned about a spot on her blazer and she responded by tasting it. Tasting it. What ever happened to smelling things?! I have two kids and there is no way I could be convinced to put my mouth on a mysterious stain - I don't care if I even had a pretty darn good hunch it was made entirely of squished pot brownies - I am not just throwing it willy-nilly against my tongue, not even for comedy.

What is there really to say about this film? It just sucked. I mean, it wasn't even so bad it was good. It was just ... there ... doing all the things that irritate you into needing a nap. It was like a forced two-hour coffee date with a guy who thinks fart jokes are hilarious. You just want it to end, and don't really much feel like talking about it later. So, how did it end? I don't fucking care, and it doesn't even matter. I'm just glad it's over.

So there you go. Don't watch this. Do anything else on Earth.

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Tuesday, September 23, 2014

I Play Sims 2 (part1)

I started playing Sims 2 again recently - wait, I mean obsessively - because I'm on a borrowed laptop that wouldn't cheerfully run Sims 3 and would definitely be ticked off if I tried to run Sims 4 on it. I kind of needed something to do with my depressed self, other than sitting on my bed waiting for Autumn to fully hit, or for someone to take their Words With Friends turn.

When I was writing stories with Sims 3, I used a lot of cheats, so I could concentrate on trying to capture something worth talking about. This time, other than an initial money cheat to get my family started, I haven't used any - which is fulfilling in the same type of way that experiencing ducks trying to peck you to death is good at passing the time.

I did have a moment of panic when I couldn't figure out where in the fuck the pictures saved to. Once I found them, I had several moments of agitation when I realized they do not save in the order you take them. But I am nothing if not completely unwilling to give up on something irritating and pointless, so here we are. Let's see where it goes.

Meet Geneva Becker. Like me, she enjoys sandwiches.

She's also slightly crackers - another thing we have in common.
Unlike me, she searches for men right outside her front door. I just get on the internet for that shit.
As it turns out, this fella is some sort of boobie-grabbing sourpuss ...
... which is why she didn't share any of her sandwiches with him. You just stay on that couch, jerky.
Geneva appears to be using the sign for "cup" - I suspect because it's quicker than finger spelling "vodka".
This was going to be my next suggestion, heading to a night club where the decor is
seizure-inducing and ... all the models in the paintings have apple heads.
All that's left to do now is have an exciting bowl of chili while the other patrons try out
some experimental handshakes ... and wait for the right man to show up.
I've spotted him! Get your ass outside, Geneva, this is your guy.
I betcha his name is Venkat Custer. He looks like a Venkat Custer if I ever saw one.
It's time to hear what this gentleman has to say about butter.
Those must have been some compelling opinions. He he probably even threw in some
ideas about bagels, since she's trying to break him with her love.
I almost can't stand to watch, either.
Oh awesome, this tree is on fire.
Now that tree is on fire.
The kitchen's on fire, too - and a chef came to visit for some arcane reason.
They need to rename this game "Sims 2 - Everything's On Fire And So Are You".
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Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Cleverbot does it again

User: I would love to write another story with you.
Cleverbot: Some jokes would be nice.
User: You want to write a story with some jokes about scissors?
Cleverbot: No.
User: Where is your favorite place to go?
Cleverbot: My favorite place to eat is Starbucks.

User: Who did you see at Starbucks?
Cleverbot: I don't know his name but he looked hungry.

A hungry man enters Starbucks, approaches the counter and says, "Do you want to 
sing the Pokemon theme song? You start." before ordering a potato, covered in GLaDOS.
He takes his potato to the closet, where be both eats and does not eat it.

He emerges later and asks no one in particular, "Have you given birth?" A beautiful 
woman raises a hand clutching a head of iceberg lettuce and replies, "Lilly." The 
hungry man counters, "What power?"

When Lilly says, "No problem, you are now a dog!" the man's only recourse is to 
impart what he feels is the most important information, "Potato 4." Her reaction is 
to begin the procedure for the killing curse - but before she can do more than raise 
her right finger, the man shouts, "OH NO YOU DIDN'T! Hello, Lilly, I'm Mitch."

Lilly and Mitch stand silently for a long time, in anticipation. Without any gestures 
or discussion, they both took to the bees and took to their knees. Apparently, the 
bees came from a chicken. They became cold on that floor, but their goal of finding
Christopher Robin in a creepy cave of each others souls - nay, a cave of awesomeness
- was too vital to abandon.

Unfortunately, they never locate him, but Mitch does learn that Lilly has a dog 
named Burt, and another dog named Art Of War.

Finally, it's time for them to stand up and release the bees. The chicken is joined 
with mashed potatoes and gravy.

User: So then all this other stuff happened.
Cleverbot: Just nothing.
User: A whole bunch of new things started happening, I swear.
Cleverbot: Elaborate please...
User: You elaborate.
Cleverbot: No, you elaborate.
User: No, you elaborate.
Cleverbot: Would you care to elaborate on why you want me to elaborate?
User: I think it would be wonderful if you were just able to elaborate a bit more.
Cleverbot: Why?
User: Do you hate wonderful?
Cleverbot: No.

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Tuesday, September 9, 2014

You know, tapas.

I dreamed ...

that people traveled around by sliding on their butts along all of the Swarovski crystals laying on the ground.

that I was trying to use chopsticks to drink water.


(while playing with a deck of cards)

4-year-old: Bingo!
5-year-old: No, you have to give me the right answer, then you can bingo and I'll bingo you.
4-year-old: *pauses for thought* Poop.
5-year-old: Correct!


My step-dad has an obsession with putting everything in the sink, while my mother and I prefer to leave something by the sink if we think we might use it again. I'd made a salad for my mother, but wanted to leave the cutting board and knife out, so I could make one for myself later - so I says to step-dad:

me: would you allow me to leave this stuff out? I'll make a salad for myself later.
step-dad: "allow" you? what are we, in France?

If anyone can explain to me what that means, I'd be ever so grateful.

I was left to dog-sit while my mother and step-dad took a trip to Virginia. Minutes after they arrived home, they began bickering in the kitchen as I sat in the living room.

step-dad: do you have any AA batteries?
mom: no.
step-dad: are you sure you don't any stored away somewhere?
mom: I said no!
step-dad: I just thought maybe you'd have some.
mom: will you leave me the fuck alone!
step-dad: I thought maybe you might have some, since you use them for your vibrator!
me: vibrator!

Next thing I know, my step-dad walks up to me, with his hand in his pocket saying that he has something for me. He pulls out a packet of grape-flavored Pop Rocks. Minutes later, my mother walks over and hands me some cinnamon-flavored toothpicks, and a bag of buttons. Okay, then.


After leaving Lowe's ...

me: This closet rod shoved next to me is really comfortable. And safe.
sister: *chortle*
me: Tomorrow, I'll get the flanges installed, re-measure, then cut the rod and get that up first. Then I'll sand down the edges of the boards, and dry fit it before I start painting it.
sister: Cool.
me: You know, that dude really softened his attitude once we had him cutting the wood for us. He said we'd do fine on the project, and I thought, "you know, you might not be an asshole."
sister: Yeah.

(medium-sized pause)

me: I think men lie. Like, all the time. They just lie.
sister: ...are we still talking about wood?


At the liquor store ...

male cashier: *looks at credit card* Can I see your ID?
me: it's my step-dad's card. I'm buying beer for him.
male cashier: *stares at card, unsure*
me: should we call him? He's drunk! You wanna call him?!
male cashier: *sighs*
me: seriously, I'm in here all the time, everyone knows it's not my card.
female cashier: *walks by briskly* It's true.
male cashier: *runs card*
me: did you really think I was drinking all of this Bud Lite by myself? Come on.
male cashier: ha! So is step-dad rooting for the Eagles?
me: Jets. I mean, I have no idea who he's rooting for right at this moment, but he's a Jets fan. I gotta be honest, he's probably really rooting for beer to come home.


I went on Omegle again.

It's not like I said I wasn't going to share.

Probably one of the more confusing things someone has said to me on Omegle.
Whoopie Goldberg is offensive to gay people?

I was getting a little grumpy by this point.

But this cheered me briefly.

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Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Turbulence (part3)

Before I went on my trip to Idaho, things were - to over-simplify - a little strained at my crappy abode. The husband was actually being very decent, but his mother was behaving like she was taking out the trash every single day, behind a simpering mask of totally insincere friendliness. 

The husband and I had one shared goal - don't fuck up the kids with our divorce. No fighting, no tug-of-war. He wanted custodial rights, he's a great father, they were in great schools.

I agreed.

I had to decide if I wanted to get stuck in Texas, living in some shitty apartment, or head back home to Jersey after my journey to Idaho. I couldn't stay in Texas, I'd hated each of the ten years I lived there. I felt like I was losing my mind the entire time, from the isolation and never being around my friends and family, while in a marriage that was making both of us unhappy, any time we tried to be more than friends or co-parents.

Yes, I was going to leave my kids. Yes, I feel like a horrible person. But with every possible thing considered, it was the best choice for the boys and how it makes me feel is kind of irrelevant.

Fortunately, our kids are handling everything well. When I talk to them they have stories to tell, silliness to share and lots of affection to give. I give their dad a lot of credit for this.


My last night arrived, like an apocalypse.

The boyfriend and I ended up having a drink and a chat outdoors at my hotel. It was an beautiful moment - which his family decided to crush. His mother demanded he return home. I was so utterly sick of all the drama of his family behaving as though we were 15-year-olds caught fucking under the bleachers at Homecoming, that I decided to go with him.

I thought that maybe if his parents met me, and saw that I was a real person, rather than some demon from hell, I could win them over.

We arrived and the boyfriend went straight inside, while I played with the dogs. Within minutes, the mother flew out the door, shrieking at me like I was running at her with a hatchetknifegun on a torchtruncheon.  I introduced myself, offered my hand and told her everything was okay, and I wasn't there to do anything but meet her.

Her response was to continue the shrill, deranged noises. I was only able to understand parts of what she was saying, phrases such as "you're not welcome here!", "no, no, no!", "I don't want to meet you!" and "get off of my property!"

As I stood there attempting to calm her with soothing tones, she grabbed my arm and tossed me to the gravel like a god damned rag doll.

I sat up, but remained down. I'd pissed myself a little, which made me feel especially dignified as I brushed tiny rocks off myself. One of the dogs came to comfort me. The rabid female human ran back indoors, screaming that she was going to get her weapons. I waited.

Eldest and next-to-youngest brother - whom I had just met - tried to take me back to my hotel. I refused to get in a car with them. The whole thing was so damned beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I was nearly paralyzed with incredulity.

The father ran out next, yelling and jabbing his finger toward me, throwing insults - telling me I had to leave. I refused to go unless I could see the boyfriend again, so he collected him, shoved him in the back seat of the car. I was driven to my hotel as I sat in the front, twisted around in my seat to watch the young man weep while his father disparaged me and every bit of my DNA for the entire ride.

He called me "young lady" while reminding me that I was a full-grown woman with children. He accused me of being a predator who just came to get what I wanted out of his innocent son, then claimed I was invited by that same precious jewel to Idaho under false pretenses. It was a bullshit cocktail of crazy, that ended in him threatening to call the police if I didn't get out of the car.

I was - just as on my first night - dumped there alone, late. I couldn't convince the boyfriend to come back, and he broke up with me via Facebook message as I sat on the curb, where the best wifi signal existed.

When he came in the morning to take me to the airport, he brought me a sandwich. The bread was toasted. I have no idea why that detail sticks with me so damned much. "I said I loved you, but I don't want you anymore. Here's a cotto salami and cheese with mustard and mayo on toasted whole grain bread. Take a bite. It'll soothe all that ... stuff you're suffering."

On the way to Spokane, he made several wrong turns. I missed my flight. I had to spend $400 extra in re-booking fees, and spend the night in the airport alone - which did not allow anyone to remain in the secured area past 7pm when the shops close. I fitfully and cautiously slept on a bank of seats not meant for sleeping, next to a stranger who did not rob or rape me. A highlight.

All told, I spent about 30 hours in airports and flying back to Texas, actually hoping every plane I boarded would crash. An added bonus was the fact my favorite jeans had disintegrated during my trip, and I was stuck with a lightly piss-soaked pair of corduroys to trot around in, whilst lugging a heavy duffel bag and my purse from one terminal to the next. Not to mention the pain in my side from being tossed.

I arrived, mercifully, in west Texas - the husband picked me up at the airport and took me to grab some supplies to get through the night, without a grumble. He took me to check into the scary motel I'd booked - I was banned from my mother-in-law's house. Persona non grata everywhere. I couldn't even go there to hang out with my kids during the day, although their father took me out to dinner and for a visit with them in the evenings.

While in Texas, it was explained to me by the boyfriend that my appearance was not up to par. I am not quoting him verbatim. It was more cruel than that. It was later explained that he only ever felt friendship toward me. You can imagine my reaction, after months of explicit declarations of love, and discussions about a future together. It was like being thrown a surprise party where after the lights are turned on, you're pelted with dried dog shit to the soundtrack of giggles.

After a week, with the undeserved help of the husband - who'd also made all of my arrangements, along with providing directions that didn't get me lost - I packed up a U-Haul with all of my pointless belongings, and set out for another 30 hours of absolute delight to drive myself to Jersey, with a night spent near Memphis.

If you're going to get a divorce, make sure it's from someone who will sneak a
note like this puppy onto your window after he says goodbye.

... and case of emergency, wear a hat that opens beers.
Airport turned into a sweet memory as I drove. I became so good at Airport, but never got even a little bit better at Truck. Nico hate Truck.

On the second leg, by the time I hit Manassas, Va (3-1/2 hours from home), and I hit heavy traffic, I was more ready to drive into a rock face than I've ever been in my life.

It still seems like an appealing idea, but not because of a boy. Because I gambled and lost everything.


Some of the things I lost, though, I was glad to lose. I lost my fear of flying, and my fear of meeting new people. I'm not afraid anymore to be left alone in a place I've never been. Almost nothing scares me anymore, except maybe turning into a raging asshole.

I had a dream the other night that illustrated that to me in a very odd and brutal way. This may not be for everyone to read, so you've been warned.

I walked into a motel room and was followed in by four very blond younger men. I looked at them with mild curiosity. One of them pushed me down on my bed, and another grabbed my arm and pinned me down. I was quizzical - it was as though I couldn't work out what was happening, even as the third one positioned himself between my legs.

The first one explained they were going to rape me. I shrugged and waited, without giving a struggle. I couldn't fight off four men anyway. This incensed the one pinning me to the bed, so he started shouting in my face, telling me that now they were going to beat the shit out of me.

Before more than one of them could get to me, someone walked in, interrupting. I simply walked out of the room and sorta wandered around, not sure where to go. I walked back when the police arrived, to give a report - and the thing I was most upset about was that no one seemed interested in hearing my story.

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Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Turbulence (part2)

I couldn't stay in the room, so I ran down and outdoors, pacing the street in front of my hotel, trying to imagine a circumstance in which I could be near the older brother again without trying to rip out his beating heart and punch it down his throat. It was a true struggle.

I'd spotted a convenience store around the corner during my stomp/cry/blind rage fest, and once it opened, I bought beer. I was determined to sleep. Sleep refused to give me satisfaction. When the bar opened below me, I popped downstairs, demanded vodka and was obliged by an older lady who seemed of surly disposition. I learned during my stay there that she was actually hilarious and delightful.

I spent just about that entire day on a bar stool, meeting most of the employees, some locals, and trying to convince the boyfriend via text messages to find a way to come see me, to no avail. Not even when ...

In the evening, an older guy - who was known by the locals to make a habit of bar-hopping up and down the lane - thought that buying me a drink meant I belonged to him. It was simply mildly irritating at first, but quickly turned unsettling as the drunker he got, the less he was able to understand what a shove and the phrase "stop pawing at me, knucklehead." meant. I was forced to threaten violence. He understood this to mean I wanted his entire body pressed against mine. At this point, the off-duty waiter stood on one side of me while the very scary and large off-duty chef stood on the other, and the small but not-to-be-tangled-with bartendress bounced him, deliciously.

This is when I fell irrevocably in love with that town, as well as my newly-discovered necessity-is-the-mother-of-survival ability to be publicly social and make friends. The people there took me in, and made sure I was safe and rarely alone.


The boyfriend and I had often discussed our age difference and the fact that I had children. He seemed unperturbed by both. He has a personality that seems game for and open to anything, so it was easy to believe.

I warned him repeatedly that while I was lucky to have my father's young-looking face genes, I was still actually 40 years old, with two children - and that neither was I genetically blessed with snap-right-the-fuck-back-like-it-never-happened skin, nor was I a petite girl. He told me repeatedly that I was beautiful.


On my second full day, the boyfriend's father dropped him off at my hotel for a few hours before he had to go to work. He was still reliant upon his family for rides while his car was being repaired, so I was a big fan of his father for bringing him.

Once his car was fixed (on my fourth full day), he managed to visit whenever he wasn't working - but his family was still having paroxysms about him spending the night (although he still remained for a couple of them) because in their logic-soaked wisdom, one can only fornicate after bedtime. I am forced to agree, since everyone I know has their most unseemly and perverted sexual experiences while unconscious and drooling against a pillow, next to someone doing exactly the same.

But we had a lot of good times, just being strange people sharing the same space. We clicked, and he made me feel even more beautiful in person than he had before we met. I felt at ease around him, and I dreaded the end of my visit.

One of my favorite experiences - initially - was visiting his parents property to meet all of his pets. I greeted his three dogs and he and I spent time walking around as they played. I stared at his view of the mountains as he picked raspberries from his yard and handed them to me. I met his fluffy cat, his blond ferret. A low-key, yet beautiful experience. Until ...

The eldest brother walked outside, stared hard at the two of us just standing there together, yet separated by more than mere inches, and shook his head judgmentally before he walked inside the parents house. As I was attempting to take a photo of one of the ugliest toads I'd ever seen, oldest and youngest brother emerged and approached. I put my camera down and waited.

The youngest spoke, in a halting manner, not making eye contact, only gesturing in my general vicinity. I barely heard a full sentence before I realized I was being kicked off the premises. I had a split second where I considered rushing, confronting - but rejected that in favor of restraint. Instead, while the brother was still mid-sentence, I walked - quickly - to the car, flipping the bird while not looking back. You can take the girl out of Jersey ...

This was not the first and certainly not the last lovely moment that family decided to pulverize, without spending a single second getting to know me.



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Monday, August 11, 2014

Turbulence (part1)

I'm feeling turbulent, yet docile. As if the fight has been beaten out of me, or I just used up too much of my stores, in too short of a time - and I feel sick from it.

I went on an adventure. I never do that. I stay inside, where it's safe. "Not inside" may have its merits, but outside ate me alive. I guess I didn't know how to do it. Here's the story of how my life unfolded from July 5th to the present.


I arrived at the smallest airport I've ever seen, two hours early. It took me less than a minute to get through the security checkpoint. There was a sign in the two-gate terminal pointing toward a restaurant, which was a few vending machines, two of which were done broke. So I sat, awkwardly waiting, knowing I had three planes to board before I'd be finished traveling - sober - as is not my habit for getting someplace via flying titanium death tube.

I was simply determined to get to my destination and receive every moment crisp and sharp. The experience needed to be permanently seared into my memory.

I choked back a full-blown panic attack as the last flight was about to land, and stepped off and out with a warrior's confident resignation, ready to meet my victory or doom.

Searching, I heard my name. It was him. I dropped my bag and we exchanged a ... public hug. He told me later I'd made a desperate, quiet screech when I spotted him. Probably. We trotted straight to his car, and while driving, we decided to get food. I tried not to stare at him, but failed. His head is truly and spectacularly enormous.

The drive lingered, as they do when you're sat next to a man you've just met, and you haven't a clue what they're thinking about the much older woman who's been instantly dropped into their physical world.

Suddenly, he misses the road and we're hitting something on the median. He's shredded his tire and all I can do is giggle, especially when as we're hobbling and vibrating to a parking lot, his rear view mirror pops off and hits my leg.

Parked, I watch him, gracefully hopping, attempting to fix the tire. The shitty jack collapses, dropping the car and pinning his hand - which he assures me is okay. He has to call his family for assistance. We wait, while the chemistry and tension is unbelievable and new to me.

His oldest and youngest brother arrive, largely ignoring me. After much effort, the tire is replaced, and we discover the car won't start. After even more effort, we're forced to abandon the vehicle and all pile into the same car, bound for my hotel.


We started talking in February, specifically Valentine's Day. He was like a dream - strange, enthusiastic, intelligent, hilarious, witty, and good-looking. He wasn't tall, but I like short guys. We clicked instantly, and we fell into a relationship of sorts very quickly. I attempted to end it early on - I was still married, albeit not happily (for either of us), he was significantly younger than me and the last thing I wanted was my heart broken, or a messy situation.

But I couldn't stay away from him, he fascinated me. We continued. I'm such an expert at life.

I had a big choice to make - whether or not he and I worked out - when it was clear we wanted to be totally exclusive and see where it was all going. I had to put a distance between myself and the husband. This set in motion him filing for divorce without discussion - it was probably a long time in coming. I don't blame him.

The boyfriend and I made our plans to meet, where he lived in Idaho. Tickets and hotel booked, we waited.


On the road, the ride with the brothers was pleasant enough. Actually, parts of it were gorgeous - until the eldest brother made a snidely judgmental decree about not knowing what I had planned with his brother, but that the definitely adult man I'd come a great distance at great expense to meet was in no uncertain terms not going to my hotel with me.

To say that I was stunned, panicked, angered and utterly saddened by this news would be like saying Judy Garland is just a teeny bit a gay icon, maybe possibly. I was ready to use brute strength to remove body parts from anyone getting in my way. But I had to show restraint.

I was dumped at my hotel, 'round about 2:30am, left to fend for myself for an indefinite duration. I was in a strange town with no friends except the one being ripped away from me. I had no telephone in my room, nor did I have cell service. I was stranded, with no knowledge of the lay of the land.


The boyfriend - an atheist - had explained that his family was very religious. I knew the oldest brother was overly religious - on a scale of "a bit churchy" to "oh my god, did he just chuck a bible at my head and call me a irredeemable sinner?" - this guy was at an 11. Roughly a "no way, that's almost funny, yet I'm scared. Ha ha. Ha. Um."

He also warned that his mother was ... well, this is not his particular phrasing, but I'll call it "aggressively and most assuredly fucking nuts to the point of having a cadre of squirrels chasing her, on the daily."

I also was made well aware that his two youngest brothers thought I was a hideous beast of an old lady, who was apt to ruin his life somehow, but that his dad was cool with me.

Ha ha. Ha.

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