No, of course I don't have a gun. I'm a felon, and that would be illegal. And it definitely isn't pink. We criminal types are a law-abiding bunch. Right. Moving on.
My emotional defense mechanism is humor. I know you're terribly shocked. Try to gather yourself.
I have a lot to be defensive about, especially lately. My friend who's sister was dying of breast cancer? She died last night. Yeah. Damn, it got her fast. As another friend put it, "I really farking hate that we keep having people to walk for. And I hate that there's not a damned thing I can do to make the people left behind feel better."
It's also my late father's birthday today. He was born in '32 so...carry the 3... The math - it burns... okay he would have been 83. He has been gone for 21 years. Doesn't seem like it. But he is the one who taught me to never show when you're hurting. The man dropped a transmission on his face while working on his old truck - it was 3 shades of yellow; we called it "The Daisy" behind his back - you could see his teeth through the 3" gash in his cheek. He grabbed a shop rag, wiped some of the blood away, then continued working on the truck, only going to get stitched up (15 stitches) after he was through. There was no crying over anything after that. But he was wrong.
It's okay to cry. It's okay to totally lose your shit when things fall apart. It's also okay to laugh at funny things at funerals, because funny things happen in life whether it's the end of one, the middle of others, or the beginning of a new one.
And I know my friend understands that, so she'll forgive me if I continue to make jokes, share funny pics, and snark away.
I gotta be me!
Happy birthday, Dad. I'll eat cake for you.
And if I had a gun, which I don't, it isn't pink.
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