October 15th, 2001


We put the "fun" in dysfunctional.

Actually, my family's not even that fun... just being so far away from them helps me forget that they're crazy. Lest you think I'm being unfair, I'm crazy too, but a different sort of crazy.

Mom's doing her whole hypercritical bit. For example, she chewed me out today for buying one of those cool Rubba Ducks. "What are you doing spending money on toys when you need so much other stuff?" she barked. When I challenged her to name one of the "other stuff," she couldn't come up with one. We're so different: she can't imagine why a 23-year-old would buy a child's toy, and I can't imagine why she'd care. I am a crafty bastard, though. I got her back. I waited until she was looking at the purses (she only has, like, 200) and then asked her the same question.

Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise (literally; we live behind a creek), I will be back to Atlanta tomorrow with a fresh supply of calorie-laden Tennessee goodness. That's Sun-Drop, not Jack Daniels.
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