My mother, folks!

So I'm getting ready to walk out the door and go see Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson with Jen. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go after everything that went on yesterday, but the ticket was my Christmas present from her, and sitting at home being depressed isn't going to help Ukraine at all. Mom grudgingly said she would stay at my house for an hour until Bruce gets home from work. I wasn't hundred percent sure on the shirt I am wearing, so I asked her if it looked okay.

"Looks fine."

"...just keep sucking your gut in."

What the ever loving fuck?! Either say it looks fine, or tell me it's a little tight and I can change into my backup outfit. This is why I started dieting when I was 12 and weighed one hundred and 20 pounds, because my mother said my butt was getting big.

So I would like to thank my insecure, passive aggressive bitch of a mother for making me unable to enjoy how I look or feel at any weight.

Just fuck today. Sideways.

In which "the band will be my Cabinet!"

Saw Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson at the Pittsburgh Playhouse with Jenn, and it was fantastic! So much fun.

And "stimulus package" jokes never get old.

I plan on posting more thoughts tomorrow. We'll see if that happens.