Did Q even read the post I wrote a few weeks ago crying over my POS laptop? I think he may have missed that one, but he most definitely got to seeĀ the laptopĀ first-hand over New Year’s weekend. Food stains, loose keys, missing keys, no memory, all bootleg crazy. It looked so bad, I think Q…
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Some of their complaints have merit, some don’t. Our little family is like the customer service counter at Walmart: we’ll take anything back and will find a way to write it off. And, like Walmart customer service, our family is run by a middle-aged black lady who likes her job well enough, but probably didn’t…
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But then I took another sip of my coffee, and the feeling passed. My confidence as a short story writer took a knock-out punch about six years ago, and I never recovered. Tonight, sitting on my bed after a day of holiday shopping and while watching Care Bears to the Rescue, a few characters tried…
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Life has come full circle and, in my 10-year-old son Jon Alex, I am now raising myself. I don’t know how my parents survived me because I sure as hell don’t know if I’m gonna survive JA. The moodiness, the emotional manipulation, the refusal to take responsibility for his actions unless taking responsibility has a…
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One at a time, my children are trying to either kill me or get themselves dropped off at the nearest fire station. In response to getting caught in a whopper of a lie after a series of smaller lies, Jon Alex tried the “I’m a fragile butterfly surrounded by vicious hound dogs, except for you,…
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Day 21, bitches. Nine more days…
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I seriously do not think I’m cut out for this parenting gig. I’m too lenient, I’m unstructured, there is way too much doing of your own thing around here. Nobody has to sit at the table until they finish their veggies. Nobody has to sit at the table, period. Whatever everyone does to keep the…
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