Why does going out with Clay always end with yelling and screaming and threatening of bodily harm? The air of possibly violence hanging in the air. Especially on Christmas. Clayton thinks he's hot stuff but I'll be like stink on shit on his ass! Carrying on with bravado, chutzpah, and the power to make others suspend disbelief - but not with me! I'm from Missouri! A minor Roman God, perhaps? A motherfucking walking time bomb! A Larry Clark film unfolding before our eyes? With enough adenelaine to power a Sherman Fucking Tank or sink a fucking ship?
As another year/chapter of our lives meets it's demise? Any regrets?
Merry Christmas 2011,