I have been home for 24 hours and I hate it. I don't want to be here. I want to pack up all of my belongings and drive far, far, FAR away.
Not far enough.
I once heard this area described as "the Island" from LOST: you can leave this place, but it's just a matter of time before you come back. Apparently, the Island isn't through with me yet.
Suck my constant, brotha'!
There are several reasons why I want to be anywhere else but here, but I will narrow it down to four so I don't bore my audience (who I'm assuming is me since I'm the only one who comes on here).
#4: My Mother
I love my mother (she did lug me around for nine months, after all); however, I am not a fan of her as a person. She is extremely close-minded and completely naive about how the world works, refusing to consider alternative views. Any disagreement with her immediately becomes combative.
A typical argument in the the household
Now, I'm not trying to sound like one of those snotty little brats who believes because they saw The Breakfast Club they know how the world works; I simply know she is clueless about how the world works. She refuses to believe that technology is the driving force behind our society and social media is how the world connects. She is like one of those people around the time photography came out who believed cameras steal souls.
The best way I can describe an argument with her is Eric Cartman. Everything's fine until he doesn't get his way, then it's "Screw you guys! I'm going home." It's like talking to a six-year-old sometimes.
During the last three years, I have come to realization that my mother is crazy and my father is a henpecked shell who allows his wife to run over him so he doesn't have to deal with her insanity. I honestly feel bad for him. Also, strangely enough, my respect for him has grown immensely. He has been able to put up with her ass for close to a quarter of a decade; after five minutes, I'm done.
Based on actual events.
Returning home means she gets to nag me about getting a job around my hometown because "people don't hire people who ain't got experience." Because an MA, some experience, and supreme talent don't mean anything. I'll also be reminded constanly of how I "ain't got no money" and "you broke."
Apparently, grammar is not hereditary.
#3: Horrible Cooking
Here is how dinner goes down in the home:
1. Take thawed chicken breast and place them in a pan
2. Preheat oven to 350°
3. Pour any liquid on chicken for flavor (salad dressing, marinara, salsa, pureed dog puke, etc.)
4. Bake the shit out of it for an hour (or until any semblance of juiciness has evaporated)
Fun times.
When I came home for my fiancee's sister's wedding, I was treated to a nice, tasty slab of pork loin, or, what I like to call, ham log.
Appetizing, isn't it?
"Marinated" in God only knows what sodium-filled concoction, ham log is packed tightly in what can only be described as a meat condom. Freeing it from its plastic prison only makes matters worse; it looks like a mix of canned dog food and what one finds floating in a gas station toilet. Then there comes the eating of it, which, while not horrible, is not exactly a wonderful experience due to the über saltiness.
The next night, I had salmon. Normally that would be cause for celebration because I love salmon.
How I feel when I'm served salmon.
Nothing could ever possibly ruin my love for this wonderful gift from nature.
Enter The Debbie.
Mother dearest happened to overhear a recipe on one of the early morning network shows that had the preparer smother the superfish in horseradish sauce and cook it. I was hesistant, but, since I love salmon and hadn't had it in three months, I was willing to try it.
This affront to God tasted like someone had puked up the fish and served it on a plate. I reminded me of the time I had too much to drink and spent 20 minutes in the bathroom in penance for my love of rum and coke.
It almost ruined salmon for me. Almost.
#2: The News
I hate the local news and the dumb-ass hicks they put on it. San Antonio had dumb-asses, too; however, English wasn't their first language and the Texas school system is ass backwards. I hate hearing the inbred "suthun durawal" where the speaker crams as many goddman vowels he can in one syllable.
I'm not saying everyone in the South is like this; I'm just saying this exist...and always end up on television or the radio.
I can't even listen to the radio anymore because of the right-wing asshats who believe Obama is an "A-rab" and muslims are Satan's henchmen.
However, my problem is not just the type of people that end up on the news; it's the news itself.
For example, the principle at the local middle school (where my fiancee's mother teaches) was suspended and the police are aiding the county school system in the administrative review. Unfortunately for the reporter, the school board is keeping everything close to the vest. Undaunted, the intrepid journalist hunts down leads and squeezes sources close to the situation to provide the public with the answers they seek.
Oh, wait. No he doesn't. He posts a thread on the station's Facebook page asking if anyone knew what happened.
Luckily for him, I have a scoop from a source close to the situation. Here's the link, you courageous correspondent of our community's conscious!
#1: There's NOTHING HERE!!!
As a twenty-something ready to take the world by the throat and choke it into submission, I don't think a small town in southwest Alabama is the best place to launch such an assault. I moved back to a place that is considered a paradise for senior citizens looking for a place to spend their twilight years clogging up intersections and taking twenty minutes to pay for eight dollars of groceries by writing a check.
Get a goddamn debit card, bitch!
It took twelve hours to drive home from San Antonio. Want to know what was the most stressful part of the trip? Houston on a weekday morning in the rain? Nope. Getting out of San Antonio? Child's play. Going through Baton Rouge? Not a chance. The worst part of my trip was driving through my hometown of 12,480. I went from zen master of the road to the violent sociopath hellbent on murdering every other driver with a rusty fork and my penis.
Once again, thank you, Johnny Depp.
This is a retirement village with nothing to do. No good bands come to town. There are no sports teams to go watch. There's the beach, but that got old when I was eleven. Instead, I'm stuck with half-dead octogenarians and hillbilly douchebags who think the key to life is to get drunk of their asses, fry something, and yell "Roll Tide" or "War Eagle" to no one in particular while "muddin'."
God, please allow me to get a job that takes me far away from here. It would be really, really great. Otherwise, I'm going to be stuck here with all of the others who couldn't escape and settled for what they had...
...which was nothing to begin with.
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