More self-aborbed bitching ahead. . .

I have been doing so completely wonderful on my diet to be shirtless by Halloween! Yes, yes, keep up the applause. Standing ovation? Well, if you must. . .
Ok, truthfully, I have been doing fairly well on the diet. However, yesterday: lunch with my folks (never good for the waistline) and then a home cooked dinner from KE’s parents for GG and I. Parmesan Chicken, tortellini, garlic bread, salad, pumpkin cake (Heaven)—I had two or three helpings of each. Outside of the food that will force me to wear a parka outside of my satyr costume, the amazing thing at dinner was the atmosphere. I am out to my parents, and they love me completely, but it is not a topic discussed in a casual manner. Yet, here we were with KE’s parents randomly discussing each others’ love lives (or lack thereof) and it was NORMAL. Oh dear Lord! Normal? I know, crazy, right? It was wonderful. It was an experience I had yet had the pleasure of being privy. It made me fantasize of one day being with my husband and our families, laughing, joking, planning the future and it not being tense, forced, or fake. I am not sure if any of those things will come to pass for my life, but it is wonderful to think about.
In the aftermath glow, as I was driving home, I turned on the radio. I was listening to the country station, and an ad came on discussing the November election. It spoke about how ‘no-fault’ divorce was voted upon a couple decades ago and how our children have suffered ever since. Then, with such a paralleled segue, it brought up how we have an opportunity to protect our children from more horrific attacks upon their wellbeing. Vote No on Ref. i.
How silly of me, for a moment, in the bliss of being treated like I was an equal member of a family that only just met me, I must have forgotten what a heinous, vile, dangerous monstrosity I really am. Whew, that was close. Another half an hour and I would have made up my mind to try to sit at the front of the bus next journey into town.
I hope news doesn’t get out that I am gay, the authorities would probably come and take Dunkyn away, as being under my care and influence will harm his emotional and spiritual maturity. I should hand in my teacher’s badge (it is star shaped, like sheriff’s, only with an apple in the center) before my students transform from law-abiding, moral straight beings of light into murderous, perverted faggots. I hope the school’s receptionist office has abnormally strong disinfectant to cleanse the badge. Maybe I should purchase an incinerator, just to be ethically and socially responsible.
And here I thought the name calling on the playground was over. . .