
Over the weekend, I went antiquing and decided to stop off at an eatery close by once I got hungry. That was a bit of a mistake… the choice of eatery, not the hunger portion. You see, there’s this Vietnamese town I grew up spending almost EVERY FUCKING weekend at, to load the car with supplies for my mother’s catering business. Then I spent my free time slaving away in the basement producing these demanded delectables. I began working when I was 7. I guess it wasn’t as bad as a sweatshop, but it still kind of sucked.
Anyway, I tried parking the car and immediately, all the fucking Asian drivers couldn’t decide whether to park in that spot or not park in that spot, but HEY! There’s my friend and I’m going stop trying to park, text, change the playlist on my iPod at the same time and say hi. FUCKING ASSHOLES.
So, I noticed something odd. First, it was the hair pulling. Then, the fidgeting. Then, the nail biting. Every muscle in my body tensed up and suddenly, my sphincter was so tight, fisting was no longer an option. Luckily, I carried all my anti-anxiety meds with me and popped one when I noticed a few of my train wreck tendencies.
After I parked the car, I took a deep breath, stepped out and that’s when all hell broke loose. Every little memory, whether mind or muscle, washed over me and I was suddenly having trouble breathing, let alone walking a straight line. I have PTSD from 10 years of childhood abuse. I’ve worked through much of it, but after that incident, I’m finally realizing I’ve barely grazed the surface.



Ladies, if you’re looking for a man who can haul heavy shit from Ikea, design your website AND make you laugh, contact me. I’ll hook you up with D. No blondes, needy women or cougars with children, please.




