The internet gives a person the ability to completely re-invent themselves. I haven't acted on it yet, but the persona I'm going for is one that people seem to need to escape from. My thought is to post as an unemployed, middle-aged divorcee named Roz Ostrud. Roz struggles with life in general.
My ex, Craig didn't beat me, but after I gained weight with the baby, he started chasing anything with a skirt and now he won't pay support for me and our 14 year-old trashy daughter, Barbara Ellen. I'm on welfare since getting laid-off at the plant four years ago and we had to move to this trailer. It ain't much, but the rent is cheap. For the last two years my boyfriend Lud has promised he'll leave his wife soon and then maybe we can buy a house again. Until then while I'm waiting I spent my day mostly sitting around in my new pink fuzzy robe (Don't you just love Walmart?) and white tennis shoes, drinking Pabst and chain-smoking Salem Lights while I watch reality courtroom television and read romance novels. I have three cats named after my high school friends (I was a cheerleader, "Go Bears!") and I have a large brown mutt named Buster. "Goddammit Buster, quit dragging dirty laundry all over the damned house or I'll lock you in the damned bathroom again!" *kick* "Worthless, sorry ass animal!" I sure hope Lud brings more beer if he comes over tonight. And Salems. Whatever happened to real men?
Now I find out other people have the same idea, but they've actually acted on it and even kicked it up a notch.
My ex, Craig didn't beat me, but after I gained weight with the baby, he started chasing anything with a skirt and now he won't pay support for me and our 14 year-old trashy daughter, Barbara Ellen. I'm on welfare since getting laid-off at the plant four years ago and we had to move to this trailer. It ain't much, but the rent is cheap. For the last two years my boyfriend Lud has promised he'll leave his wife soon and then maybe we can buy a house again. Until then while I'm waiting I spent my day mostly sitting around in my new pink fuzzy robe (Don't you just love Walmart?) and white tennis shoes, drinking Pabst and chain-smoking Salem Lights while I watch reality courtroom television and read romance novels. I have three cats named after my high school friends (I was a cheerleader, "Go Bears!") and I have a large brown mutt named Buster. "Goddammit Buster, quit dragging dirty laundry all over the damned house or I'll lock you in the damned bathroom again!" *kick* "Worthless, sorry ass animal!" I sure hope Lud brings more beer if he comes over tonight. And Salems. Whatever happened to real men?
Now I find out other people have the same idea, but they've actually acted on it and even kicked it up a notch.
"Jeanette has a new hobby: Feigning elaborate illnesses in online support groups. "I have never felt more loved and cared for in my entire life"... more"
3 comments:
You need to get outside more, snow or not. You're not pathological enough to pull off Roxy.
Which implies that I am somewhat pathological.
To even think of doing this is somewhat pathological but everyone needs a hobby.
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