I Cried for You; It’s Your Turn, You Can Cry a While

I still do not have my motherfucking garden tilled.

And, I ask you America, do I ever bothere to buy plants from any place other than Bates Nursery around the corner?  For starters, they are right around the corner.  Second, every plant I’ve purchased from them has been superdelicious awesome.

The folks are down to Georgia with the Butcher and the nephew.

My mom was telling me a lovely story about the autistic girl in one of her classes whose mom beats her for being so stupid and then makes her get down on her knees and pray to God to forgive her for said stupidity.  The school has called DCFS numerous times, but DCFS says that the mother’s church has given her guidelines for the proper way to beat her child and so they a.) have kids who have it worse that they have to deal with and b.) aren’t knowingly going to take on a case that has them taking on church teachings.

I told her to just stop telling me any more about it, because my heart cannot bear it.

Please, please, America, don’t have kids if you don’t want them.  And don’t beat your kids, even if God says it’s okay.  Please.

Ugh.

What a depressing post.

The dog and I are up to stuff today, though, so that’s nice.

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