This is my last post about hating Wisconsin. Ever. No, seriously.
Chicago extends this far north now. As shacks built on stilts fall into the ground, mini chalets (and sometimes not so mini ones) go up in their place. Imagine that over the course of 5-10 years, Ann Arbor Michigan constructs itself over the face of Nocona Texas. On one side is a Starbucks, on the other is Jerry Springer. They meet, like worlds colliding, at the Asian take out place at the edge of town.
My sister grew up here, she folded it in. D. grew up here, hated it, got over it. I moved here displaced. At the start of 5th grade, I had a stack of white leatherette bibles I’d won for memorizing the book of Ruth in the burb-church outside Chicago. By the end of the same year, I was at least an hour from a McDonald’s in any direction and I was thinking “How you gonna get gas for the generator after the “apocalypse” ya fucktards?”
What I mean is, the place in which I was supposed to be forever in a WIC line doesn’t even exist anymore. And likewise DrBitchfaceWhatever killed JerrySpringerGirl. So I’m even, just me. No other there there.
I’m watching the end of 40 yr old Virgin, I love the Aquarius thing especially, and unpacking my bro-in-law’s Transformer collection. As soon as I got here practically, my sis dropped a casserole on her toe and broke it and then she and my mother went down with stomach flu, leaving me the sole proprietor suddenly of a keen fat demanding 3-month old, which is heavenly. We’re gonna take another long country walk . . .
