And the winner is…reality

I surrender. I can’t make shit up that is more ridiculous.

I find myself reminiscing more lately, mostly because we live in an upside-down world now where satire isn’t funny because real life is more ridiculous. I have laughed myself through grief and pain and everything in between, but I’m here to tell you I can’t laugh at this shitshow for much longer.

The fatigue is real. Cue the story from my past you knew was coming. It’s called “foreshadowing.”

I haven’t lost track of my purse since I was about 14 years old. I don’t know if it’s a southern thing or a me thing, but my purse has been an extension of my body in some form since I was a little girl. A purse means you have important shit you need to carry around, whether it’s a switchblade, Skittles and a book or three large, your passport and your government ID. I always know where my damn purse is. Always.

I lost my shoe at a Who concert once. I lost my mind on silly mushies laying on a roof in Bonaire, Georgia with a girl name Mona Lisa but I found it when we crawled back down. I never saw Mona Lisa again, I guess I lost her, but I have never, ever lost track of three thousand dollars in any way, shape or form. Unless you count tattoos. But I digress.

The last time I had three thousand dollars in my purse was…never. Mostly because I don’t have liquid cash like that since I quit selling pot. I’m joking! I didn’t even have three stacks laying around then. I can promise you if I did, though, I’d have that damn purse rigidly attached to my body and it would take an act of God to remove it without my consent. Maybe not even then. Why would God need three bands? I would have questions. As one does when the head of The Department of Homeland Security can’t keep up with her damn purse. Nice job making the argument for the knuckle-dragging troglodytes who don’t want women in seats of power, Dog-Killer. You’re a real sport model, you know it?

Don’t miss my next piece, possibly coming from the fun filled land of El Salvador. Because guess what kids? We’re just loading folks up and shipping them off at will. Remember when your mom told you if you were bad the boogie man would come get you and take you away and she wasn’t talking about KC and the Sunshine Band? Hello, childhood nightmare unlocked in real time. I’m neither psychologically or physically prepared for my mother to be a prophet. Nor am I stable enough to read news every day about due process being ignored and SCOTUS decisions being treated as optional.

Remember when the whole scandal around the presidency was Billy Beer? Billy Carter. That was it. That was the scandal. And the pearls were clutched about it, y’all. Lord, you’d have thought o’l Billy had set a puppy on fire when he was caught on film drunk as hell. You see why I revert to the past so much? It’s insane how low we’ve gone in 50 years. Absolutely insane. You really can’t make this shit up.

Apparently I’ve become the old lady who thinks everything is appalling because I dislike cruelty and depravity. I’m good with that. I’m also the old lady who will never shut up about it because my pantaloons are in a bind over the general state of things.

Until next time, stay off my fucking lawn. Love, Wendy.