The Old Days

I hate everyone. Hey {A}, you’ve been here, what, a dozen times in like 36 hours. What the fuck is wrong with you? Perhaps I’m not the craziest thing {D} has ever slid his dick in. You want to talk, talk. I’m not going to sit here and wait for you. Jesus, what did you think I was going to post next? Yeah, I have a few more bombs I can drop. Trust me on that one. I’m not going to until I feel like doing so. I wrote that out of concern for you, you narcissistic twat. Jesus.

This analytics shit. I have someone going through every page on an Azure service, which is like a 98% probability it’s government. I’m going back and rereading every post they looked at. I have someone out on the East Coast reading everything in an actually pretty damn well-hidden way. That one was at least funny, because it’s originating from Edgar Allan Poe’s grave. Gotta love Packethub.

So I hate all of you. Just know that.

Anyways. Fuck it. It’s Sunday night. I just got off a dating website talking to a butcher and a guy who wants me to call him “daddy,” because that shit ain't creepy at all. See, this is why I don’t read the unread messages. It’s normally just some creepy guy or a dude with no education.

My kid turned 30 on Friday. I’m officially the mother of a 30-year-old. Jesus. I feel old.

I just want December to be over already. I miss the old days. On {Z}’s birthday, we would finally decorate for Christmas. My family would come down to the island we lived on, and we would decorate and laugh and torment the birthday kid. I miss that. That was always the beginning of Christmas.

Then I would, of course, do all my Christmas shopping at the last minute, because I always waited until after {Z}’s birthday. I wanted her to have a birthday that didn’t interfere with Christmas. She always got more birthday presents than the other kids because I was trying to make sure her birthday and Christmas didn’t get mixed.

Then on Christmas we would go to my mom’s place. She lived in a senior building. Her husband was the maintenance guy, so they lived there despite not being seniors per se. I would cook two turkeys and a ham and make dinner for like 30 people, and everyone who lived in the building who didn’t have family was invited. The kids would sing and play music for everyone, and everyone had a great time. All the old ladies loved the kids.

It was nice being with people who would have been alone otherwise. They really appreciated it. It was worth the all-day cooking and the inevitable lower back pain I felt. It was just this huge dinner, everyone just talking, and my grandma, who was obsessed with bringing shrimp cocktail and made sure everyone knew there was shrimp cocktail.

Going from that to whatever I’m doing Thursday is hard. I miss the old days. It was fucking chaos. But I loved it. I miss that chaos.

Last year I was in the hospital. Rehab. I got out and then tried to kill myself on the 27th. I hate this time of year now. I haven’t heard from the kids. {LP} decided he was going to go on a road trip for Christmas. {Z} never responded to the message I sent her on her birthday. {MM} just isn’t speaking to me since I told him getting a degree in video game design was stupid and a waste of money. Hint: I was right, but I thought his dad would agree with me, and he didn’t, and we’ve been on the outs since.

I’m not allowed to call my mom when her boyfriend is home, so I probably won’t talk to her. My dad spends Christmas with my stepsister, who converted to Judaism when she got married, so it’s odd they celebrate Christmas together, and I won’t hear from him. My sister is blocked, or I would be getting drunken quotes from It’s a Wonderful Life all night long on Christmas. I don’t feel bad about that. And that’s what’s left of the whole family. Everyone else is gone.

I just want this month to be fucking over.