A talk on the phone with Mom inevitably begins with asking for money. It’s not that I’m short on money, quite the opposite in fact for a college student, I just didn’t have enough money on my debit card in this instant to buy an online textbook. Plus, I need that money for weed. After the exchange of financial information, the conversation turns to more motherly things, because mine is the stereotypical Jewish mother, and we’re not even Jewish.
I consider myself one of the lucky ones because I was born to an entirely mediocre family whose expectations were sufficiently low enough that they would have been bragging about me to relaties if I dropped out of high school and worked at Burger King. “Yes, our daughter is working at a corporate job right now. The company is anticipating exponential growth in the next few years, as well.”
But I really feel sorry for anyone born into a royal family (or just the uber-rich), because there is no room for fucking up. Poor Prince George will be tethered to Kate Middleton’s side with a shock collar–because God knows the royals can’t be seen using a child leash Continue reading
I was minding my own business on Facebook–an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one–when I noticed a new picture of my cousin had popped up in my newsfeed. It was of her and her boyfriend, a froggish looking fellow in a trucker cap. She had mud all over her face and looked exhilarated to be with the man she loved. He looked bored. Continue reading