The Problem with Ron

I've always hated the name Ron. Sensible Joe, my now gay ex-boyfriend's childhood cat's name was Ron, and for some reason, I find that to be one of the funniest things on the planet. A cat named Ron. So, now my longtermboyfriend's dad is named Ron, and I can't help but think of the real Ron. When Ron the cat died, me and my little stoner friends called up Joe and pretended to be "Ron the cat, a summons from the grave". I never had an animal, so I guess I didn't realize how mean it was. Sometimes I call Joe and pretend to be Ron, but seeing that I do this at least once a month, he's used to it now. I think if Mr. Squeekers died, and one of the stoners called me pretending to be my dead dog, I'd probably have a manic breakdown. Thinking about this, I've decided to smoke only on the weekends.

Birdman has cut his long scragly hippie hair, and as far as I'm concerned, not a moment too soon. Quote of the week, Birdman at the salon when he got out of the chair of the bohemian pill popping stylist: "I look like Anne Heche". She cut my hair too, and started talking to me about how wonderful Fox News is. I just agreed with everything she said, that's usually how I treat people that are providing a service to me for more than like, 10 minutes. That's the same reason why I don't go to get a pedicure, other than the fact that it sounds too much like the word "pedophile", and I tend to mix things up when speaking. I'm not trying to bond, snip a bit and shut your wine trap, you know? But when someone tries to defend Fox News, whatever is left of the recently vacant liberal part of my brain zaps like a light that's been turned on after a year.
See, the thing is, I haven't been very liberal. I mean, I kind of like guns, and I know it's wrong, but I really can't help it. I want to wear my glock to Target, I want to yell at my kids really loud with my glock resting taughtly against my danskinned thigh. But, nobody like me really wants to be labeled as that kind of liberal. So i'm torn. I wouldn't go off and join the NRA unless Charlton Hesten personally comes and fucks me over my island kitchen table, like I've imagined so many times, although I'll admit that I don't have an island kitchen table. Is he dead yet? I know this is cliche, but I've been thinking about this for a really long time, and one day I want to get a Southpole jersey, and it will have to happen soon because I'll only be fat for a little longer, and I want to bleach my hair blonde, and get a mullet and go and get a pedicure. I have these really fucked up white trash feet right now, and it would be perfect. I really am ashamed to admit how long it's been since I've shaved my legs. I just finished reading this paragraph, and I was just thinking that I could also go to the dentist like this as well, especially because I already made a pedicure joke above.

See, I live in a temperate climate, which means that it's cold and hot and shit all at the same time, but sometimes longer than others. So it's been really fucking cold for the last 4 or 5 months, and I've been wearing sneakers and jeans for months, and I've never really got the point of wasting time. I've been with birdman for almost 2 years now, so you know we're just around to more or less annoy each other. We've been having money problems, aka neither of us have a job right now. Birdman is starting this saturday, and I finally got my damn license. Now that I think back, I don't know why it took me so long to get it in the first place. I'm 21 already, and now I'm going to have to lie to my children to sound cooler, and one of them is going to get gay karma and go dyke on me because of it. If I had a lesbian child I would be so god damn happy, you have no idea. I think I would favor her, I really do, I think I'd have done something right in this world to make up for the other big mistake-s.