Throwback Thursday 

Easter (not sure what year).  I’m in the middle & my younger sisters are on either side of me.  We’re in the nearly identical outfits our mother dressed us in..why she dressed us like that (when we’re not triplets) is a mystery to me even now.  And we’re sitting on the daybed in my aunt’s basement.  

1 Liner Wednesday: Really Short Story 

“Will you at least consider the Mormon religion?” My father said.  “Glenn Beck said-.

“Yeah, I KNOW, Glenn Beck said he drank heavily at one time in his life and he credits his ‘Mormon faith’ with helping him stop & get back on track.  But that doesn’t mean everyone who has a drinking problem must join the Church of Mormon.”

“And it aggravates me,” I said at the 12 step meeting, “to no end that I’ve been sober over three years and my father, who knows zero about recovery, thinks I should become a Mormon because Glenn Beck had a drinking problem and happens to be a Mormon.”

Father’s Day 

My father’s not a monster.  My mother, holy shit, she is a monster.  I used to blame my father for not protecting me & my sisters from her.  I called him “useless man”.  

But divorce is a thing.  My father could’ve filed divorce papers and taken his freedom.  He didn’t.  He STAYED.  Because she’s the woman he married (for better or worse); because my sisters and I needed both parents, not just one bat crap crazy parent.  And I don’t give my father enough credit.  I don’t appreciate him enough, or rather I haven’t appreciated him enough.  But I’m not going to make that mistake anymore.

1Liner Wednesday: Really Short Story 

He lived a double life, visiting gay clubs while his wife was at home with their kid, having profiles in gay hook-up sites that didn’t mention the fact he was married to a woman.  So deep in a closet of his own making, with such self-loathing.  LGBT Pride Weekend rolled around & the club was packed…brace men and women who lived their truth out in the open, but this cowardly little bitch showed up to mow them down in a hail of bullets.  He should’ve put a bullet where it really belonged (in his own head).  

Surprise surprise (yeah, not really)

So according to the New York Daily News, the Orlando shooter had a “secret gay life”, having visited the club he shot up before, having been on “gay hook-up sites”.  Just proves what I’ve been saying forever…THE THINGS WE DON’T LIKE IN OTHERS ARE THE THINGS WE DON’T LIKE IN OURSELVES.  

I must be insane 

I mean why else would I have created a Facebook account, right?  A friend of mine (she’s my age, we both write) suggested I create a Facebook page to get my writing out there.  I said I don’t Facebook…she said it’s not so bad, you don’t have to accept friend requests from thirsty guys who send unsolicited dick pics.  I broke down & created an account on Thursday (even though Facebook has the audacity to demand my surname…a thing very few on the internet know) and set up an account and a page where I post my writing.  I sofriendly me people I know here in Brooklyn & thought I was doing pretty good.  Until yesterday when Facebook locked me out of my account and said (in an email) that I have to send them a picture of my government ID (drivers license).  I did it & I’m waiting for them to “review the ID” BUT I’m annoyed for a couple reasons…I mean, does Facebook really think anyone wants to be me (being me comes with an overbearing mother & a stack of past-due bills) so bad they’d impersonate me on a social media site?  Also, as an Italian-American any time someone asks to see my “government ID” I get the feeling it won’t end well.  Also, who does Facebook think they are, asking for ID…did they become a government agency and I don’t know about it?  Anyway, if they ever permit me to log into my own account again, I have to decide if it’s worth keeping.

1 Liner Wednesday: Really Short Story 

OK, I’m going to tell Brock Turner, the two young men from Steubenville, Ohio, and others like them what nobody else ever told them about being a real man, and it’s this

Being a real man means you never EVER have sex with the underage, the intoxicated, the unconscious, the mentally challenged/compromised, and/or the incapacitated, those over whom you have real or positional power (your subordinate at work, your student, your housekeeper).