Oklahoma City

Laid down like a good girl to rest my legs at 4:30 pm Tuesday with the Comtrex engine thrumming not more than a quarter mile from my back window. Reluctantly sat up at 7:30 to browbeat the Senate Majority Leader again over his discourtesy to Merrick Garland, like a rapid cur shredding opportunism, transferred, pissed urinal aperture nearly perfectly, debated my libertarian twitter intrigues and how far I'm willing to go, scowling. For a cripple evacuating herself with a snowball's chance in hell of evading the worst, I'm taking my own sweet fucking time, triply mad because I wanted to revive McVeigh and approached Brian Doherty about it and what do I discover on PBS this evening? Someone else revived McVeigh, and in the taffy of so many ideas being out there, I thought it was inconceivable that my pitch had mainstream traction, but this is a dirty rotten business. Am I mad at Brian? No, but I am not superhuman, and to pitch 250 times a month, eat, clean up my bowel, work my own projects, and expect lightning is not exactly the God complex memory of anal penetration. What Woodruff described wasn't my idea exactly. I have to go back and look, but some motherfucker beat me on giving Oklahoma a fresh eye, and you can all drop dead for all I fucking care. I've been amazing, to survive what I have over the last 18 years on top of earlier familial tragedy and systemic medical paradigms. Liberals love to point out that what my former Liberty family, and the cunt-sucking activists did to me can cause strokes, neighing like jackasses about inequality and sickness, and the trauma was almost too much, and here I am, swinging and getting sucker punched. I'd probably up my profile if I did give federal agents reason to create the dowager dossier, but my hit list is merely comprised of Commonwealth dregs not worth the pressure. An expendable godmother doesn't come with pre-packaged Lee Harvey Oswald mystique. Let's see now if she can transfer back to sleep, last pleasure in life hot coffee with soy flavored non-dairy. Despite terms of service, I'd shred Josie in public with blatant indifference, but I wilted her before, repeatedly, and missed my calling as the lesbian cower professional, much like felines specialize in snapping hyena spines.