Below reads a letter to my friend Kate:
We need to plan a trip just you and I somewhere. Montreal? Or do you have somewhere else in mind. I'm easy peasy.
It might not be for a year or two but it will give me something to look forward to.
another note: Dallas has banned me from going out with his friends as I
become so drunk and disorderly. Last time I rubbed his friends thigh,
the guys did my hair (where did they get elastics from, and why did I
let them do it?), I passed out in my booth, and then puked on the way
home. In our car. :( It was chinese food from Genesis.
I had a blast though and wasn't at all hungover the next day. Yah!
now I have no friends here which sucks. I have a clothes club with
Granny (you meet once a month to bitch with a bunch of ladies and eat
treats and everyone puts in $25 dollars and then we draw names to see
who wins the pot. All the money has to be spent on something for
yourself (purse, coat, shoes, etc.) It's fun but it's not exactly
snorting rails at the Cambie, is it?
Not that that's what I want to
do but I do want to be a bit rebellious and young when I go out. Is
that wrong? All Dallas' friends are either married with kids so out of
commission (at least together) as their kids are very young and someone
needs to be at home with them or they are in new relationships and
"playing house" and spending our nights out talking about possible
dinner parties. Dinner parties? With you skinny fucks? No thanks! You don't even have condiments in your fridge!
And also, boring. I'm inside being "good" all day: entertaining children,
cooking them meals and trying not to swear in front of them. It's like
I'm hosting a perpetual dinner party and guess what, it sucks!
to smoke drugs on my few hours off between driving
the kids to their classes & appointments, doing the dishes and
scrubbing shit stains out of undies. I want to listen to loud rock
music, swear, tell bawdy jokes and rub some fucking thighs (in jest, of
course!). I feel like I'm on crazy pills!!!!! Why does everyone have to
be a stick in the mud or, conversely, why do I have to be so crazy and
want to do these things?