Why Gette May Jump Off a Bridge…

I’m just your average housewife and mother who uses Xanax and humor to sanely deal with cooking, cleaning, a cat, a husband, and obnoxious teenaged kids. I sometimes turn on the jets in my bathtub, lay back, and imagine that I’m still 22 with flawless skin, perky tits, an expendable income, an no worries besides the expiration date on the condoms in my purse.

Now I have to worry about laundry, dishes, cooking, grocery shopping, homework, PTA (Don’t get me started on those Holier-Than-Thou bitches), bills (Okay, I don’t earn the money to pay them, but checks don’t write themselves.), mortgage, mother in law (AKA Prince of Darkness), my husband (Who tries, but he’s a man.), a pre-teen son who is a boil on the crack of my ass, and two teenaged girls who may not live to go to college if I have to hear “O.M.G.” or “You’re ruining my life!” again.

Oh yeah, the cat’s heat… I may jump off a bridge.


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