I find there's nothing like a rainy day to make you really start thinking about your life and how it's going. Not perfect around here, but then again what is? Yeah, things have been declining pretty steadily for the last coupla years. You know, first Ed
, then the hip
, then I had to leave Pleasant Pastures
because of what they said about me. I didn't know why I had to go, but they kept saying I couldn't stay there anymore. I asked if it was because the government said they couldn't take care of Whites anymore and they said don't be ridiculous, but I know what that Obama bin Laden wants for what used to be my country. I tell ya, if Ed had lived to see a Colored in the White House he would have dropped dead from the craziness, so I guess it's good he went earlier when we still had Christians in charge.
I moved in with Sharon, which because of everything going on with her made life easier. Hudson went and got himself locked in jail like I always said he was going to. They say he'll be in until he's 18, which is in another year and a half, and then he'll be on some sort of probation or other while he looks for a job and proves that he's ready to act like a human again. He got caught in the park on Fillmore Street with a baggie full of cat tranquilizer that he and his friends apparently liked to smush up and then mix with Crystal Light Lemonade powder and either snort it or smoke it, I was never quite clear. Apparently, being underage and carrying pet sedatives is enough to get you sent up and even if not he was primed for it what with the rock t-shirts and the hair and the eyeliner and the smart mouth. It was only a matter of time. And you know, maybe it's for the best. I said to Sharon I said maybe the Negroes in the juvenile hall will show him what happens to little boys who wear makeup and truth be told it'd probably be good for him but I guess she didn't hear me. Or maybe she was just ignoring me. She tends to get all shifty whenever the topic of other races come up, but then she was born in a different time where they like to be politically correct, but I've lived too long to have to care about that anymore. To me, a Chinaman's a Jap and a Hussein is a Muslim and that's just the way it's gonna be.
So since Sharon lost the house and Justine getting bigger and starting school, and no men around, I said I could move in with them help look after Justine and give Sharon a hand around the house. I'm not what I used to be in the kitchen, but I can do a little, and Justine always likes it when I make my special cinnamon toast, and now Sharon can go out on her Internet dates and know someone's home with the girl. She hasn't met anybody special yet, but there've been some near misses. I thought that Josiah was going to work out, but then he turned out to still be married and that didn't go over so well with anyone, let me tell you. I gave him a piece of my mind, absolutely.
So I had all but forgotten the kerfuffle at the Pastures, but last week after half a bottle of that Shiraz she likes (I just can't handle the liquor anymore and boy do I miss it!) Sharon told me the reason I had to leave was because everyone else was complaining about the way I sometimes got to "screaming" at the tee vee. In my own room! Apparently, raising your voice when you're excited about your program is now a mortal crime. Kicking me out of my own home for such a thing! Well, pshaw, I say, and if they don't want my money they can get someone else's. That's what I think happened, anyway, and the other thing's just an excuse. I think somebody with more money came along and wanted my room and the people at the Pastures can't see nothing but the green green green. That's why the pastures are so pleasant. They're lined with money! Ha!
I don't need them, and Sharon and Justine and I are doing fine just us girls. And here in our new home I can raise my voice all I want and nobody's around to say I can't.
And thank God, too! Not much left in my life but seeing my granddaughter smile and laugh and watching the Two and a Half Men show. Actually, let me just put that on and what in the sweet Jesus fuck is this? How the shitting fuck could this show get canceled? What Jew braintrust decided it was time for the best show on television to disappear in the middle of a season without so much as a goddamn howdoyoudo? What the fuck do I care what Charlie Sheen said about a writer? Listen you gobbling shitheads, if Sheen doesn't like the lines you rewrite the pricking lines. This had better be a goddamn joke or somebody is going to taste metal tonight. And I don't know which end it'll start in if you know what I mean. I mean stabbing up through the ass into the mouth. Or the other way around. Because I am on my way out anyway, CBS. It's not like I'm gonna live to see another show this good, and don't think I haven't made my peace with the hereafter. I know which side I'm going to and I'm rarin' to go. I want to see Ed so I can punch him in his pissing mouth for abandoning me to live with my good-for-nothing daughter and her retard little girl. Cinnamon toast is just bread with sugar on it you miniwhore. Make it your own goddamn self. I have to get to New York City for an impromptu meeting with some television executives. I'll have the Season 3 DVD boxset in one hand and a pair of wire cutters in the other and we'll decide together which order we're gonna use 'em in. You hear me Cocksucking Broadcasting System? I'm on flight 197 to La Guardia and I know how to catch a gypsy cab. I'll see you soon. And then we'll talk.
Well, I'll talk.
And you will listen good
Labels: old lady