My approach to budgeting is to do my best to afford my meds and car insurance and car payments. Beyond that? Not much. I’m paycheck to paycheck right now.

Oh, what the fuck is this shit?

You’re asking the person who got in trouble multiple times for not standing up for the Pledge of Allegiance in high school after 9/11.

Fuck. No. I am not patriotic. I think being all “fuck yeah, America is great” is a symptom of brainwashed fuckwits.

Being patriotic to me is laughable. Mockable even.

Fuck America and it’s for-profit bullshit. I’d be an ex-pat any day.

At my current age of 39, my father was doing fuck if I know.

My mother was coming off postpartum depression from my youngest brother’s birth.

Beyond that? It is a mystery.

You know those moronic laws that outlaw being gay? That entire category of legislation can die in a dumpster fire.

My dream home is a small cottage. One and a half bathrooms to the ratio of two bedrooms. A kitchen that isn’t too small, with an actual, functional hearth in it. Or a wood stove. With a low maintenance, edible garden my brother Aaron and I teamed up to create outside, and a Dutch door painted either cherry red to welcome travelers or purple to let everyone know a witch lives here.

Maybe a tree that’s perfect to climb up and read in on lazy days, and a hammock for in the summer.

A home filled with laughter, love, and the occasional cat whisker.

If I got some splendid news, I’d tell my dear ones about it. Mellon, J, Reffie, and Chele, most likely. Depending on what time of day I got the news, I’d tell my sibs and Grandma Gator.

All right, I know I’m going to get some flack for this but my favorite candy is black licorice.

Yes, I know, it’s gross to a lot of people. I am not one of them.

The internet, as we know it today.