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Wednesday, 26 September 2012

I thought my life could not get any worse than it is; I was wrong!

I just found out that, in addition to not being able to find a human female who will buy my line of shit, my absolute favorite star, Adam Fucking Lambert has huge arm fat. My life, such as it is and has been for 61 years, is now at an end. I fully intend to slit my throat and fucking die, die, die because ole AdLam has fat arms.

And that is just the start of the shit that is pissing me off today. My aunt, my sainted Mother's sister and my Uncle are coming for dinner with me and the girls. No matter how hard I try to get the food from my fork to my mouth without doing something foolish, I am going to fuck up, knock over the wine, stick my finger in the gravy whatchafugit, have my shirt on backasswards, or some damned thing. And the old cow will be watching for me to screw the pooch. She always is watching and has the uncanny ability to catch me, in the act, screwing up dinner, big time.

And when I do, my Aunt, the Grand Dame of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, will give me THAT look, shake her head, and remind me that my ancestors are not proud of my short-comings as a man, a son of the South, my Mother's son, yada fucking yada. And all because when I was six, I puked up my peas at her son's christening.

Since then, whenever my Aunt is supping with us, I puke up my peas.

Are all men still little boys? Or is it just me? Life is not fair; it is not for the wusses(i). First Pattison and Stewart stepped out of each other; now Adam Lambert has huge arm fat, and Jefferson Davis in drag is coming for dinner. In less than three hours peas will be shooting out of my nose and my Aunt will finally tell me that I am adopted.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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