By ThinkGoat
Sheridan Park, Illinois I’d like to think I’m a “second-chance kind of person” but there are conditions. If you fail to bend at the hip to pick something up off the floor that doesn’t belong there, ten-to-one, you’re going to hear about it in the form of bitching, maybe even an illustrated step-by-step on how the feat is to be performed. I’m not likely to cut all ties because of the offense. (This is clearly demonstrated, I might add, by still being hitched after 20 years)
Apparently I live in a world where reason and good judgement and common sense aren’t prevalent. In my world, trying to fucking kill me is a non-sequitur. If you lay a hand on me, even threaten to, you can bet your sweet ass your hair is going to land on a voodoo doll I keep in the hutch and I’m going to practice every barbaric contortion on that motherfucker I can imagine. No second chances. But maybe it’s because I’m not capable of the certain special kind of love mixed with poor fucking judgement. (more…)