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Sometimes I feel my emotional temperature rising. Minor irritation turns to annoyance turns to frustration and I feel anger’s heat approaching.

This time I managed to stop and recognize the temperature change for what it is. an opportunity to learn more about myself and others and about the interactions between us all. I survived. This time…


This post was written in response to: Calling All Writers

“After all I do for you, the least you should do is take the fucking time to wipe the damn seat down after you pee.

Most people would have left your sorry ass a long time ago, but no. I stuck it out. Why? Because you’re my mother and that’s what family does. Take care of each other.

I doubt ‘wipe down mom’s mess when she can’t quite make it to the toilet’ is in that “take care of each other” guideline, but that’s what I do. You are capable of wiping the urine off if you get some on the seat.

It’s not like you are a fucking toddler who shits and pees all over themselves, then expects someone else to come along and clean up their mess.

Actually, maybe you are that immature. A spoiled, selfish brat who only gives a damn about one thing…her show.

You care more about your fucking tv show than you do about anything or anyone. I work my ass off all day then come home to a filthy house and mom sitting there watching tv.

The least you could do is make me a damn sandwich, but I guess that’s too much to ask. You are a lazy, selfish bitch. Maybe one day you’ll take too much of your medicine and put us both out of our misery.

I’m sick and tired of taking care of you. If you would have done things right and taken care of yourself a long time ago, you probably wouldn’t be in all this pain and need someone to help you, but since you didn’t, I’m the one who suffers. All because I am a decent person who is trying to do the right thing.

I’m letting you know right now that I’m at my breaking point. Either you get your act together, or I’m going to start getting really nasty. I’ve had more than my fill of this shit and I’m not going to spend my life like this. Are you even listening to me? Do you understand what I’m saying, or do I need to spell it out?…Mom!…Mom?

*I don’t know what your prob…oh my God! Mom? No…no!

911, what is your emergency?

*Alternate ending-““Were you talking to me, dear? I forgot to turn my hearing aid on.

Can’t think of a good title for this…

I just tried something that, although it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, it should probably be consumed mostly by people who are stoned and have the munchies. Not like I’d know anything about that…just “in theory”. The Dorito Taco from Taco Bell. There really isn’t a better way to describe it than a good “munchies” food.

A million times more important than that, we still haven’t heard from Bats. If you pray, pray for her. If you don’t pray, think of her. If you can’t find the time to think of her, then get off my blog. Seriously. This is not just some name. This is life or death. If you can’t understand that, I don’t want you on here.