TMI

Been very busy! Between work firing potential, chain smoking over it, and the neighborhood shit, I managed to break my hand.

Bone is out. Not through skin, but it's .... lets call it "pokey"

I was offered something called Amish Friendship Bread, and I thought a freebie is not to be passed up. I expected flour, sugar.... shit like that. I was mistaken.

I came home and as I exited the car I hear the mexican family adjacent to me screaming at a car "You BETTER run puto!" The SUV sped off then screeeeeeech.... and screech back in reverse. You will never see a white bitch running inside faster as I yelled to the dogs, get to the back of the house. Under my arm was the bread and my daily wares, half of which scrambled onto the porch in my dash to avoid the gunfire that was being promised during their fight. I cut my losses, don't need it.

I explained what a drive by was to the dogs as we moved to the back portion of the house to hide like chickens, proud chickens no less. Then I opened the box and thought what the fuck IS this? It was batter in a ziploc.

Mr. Morgan came home and I proudly showed him.

"Look what I got!"
"What is it?"
"Something!" /more glee.
"Did you ask for this?"
"I sure did!"
"You seriously asked for slop?"
"Well it wasn't what I thought."

In speaking about this to others, this shit is the food version of a god damned chain letter. You send some to a friend and they do, on and on. Am I cursed if I don't pass this shit around? I promptly frowned but being all nervous I'm following the 10 day instructions before the crap even bakes. I most certainly wrote to the sender (a friend... ) and said food chain letters should have been clarified and that it better taste good.

Other news.... my step mom in law is doing well. Dodged a massive bullet, I hope she knows that. Mr. Morgan helped someone move today and visited her. When asked where I was he said I was home with hypochondria.

What the....??? Don't do that. This got me a call from her hospital room worried like I had a fucking pistol loaded to my temple. Couldn't he just say I didn't feel well? I get nervous, yes, and often but I don't wear a damn chest sign to advertise it and make people ask questions I don't want to answer. Frankly he told me he was helping someone move, I didn't feel the need to go along, I didn't know he was visiting the hospital.

Last thing I need in her head - who already thinks I'm anorexic and my food portions are controlled - is that I need her mental help. Likely it will spread all in the family that I was too mental to leave the house. Then, in a day or so people will change the story to I'm a shut in. Or that Mr. Morgan has killed me and I'm in a freezer somewhere.

Cheers.

-DM