"Guy, things are crazy, I need to talk to y0u."
"Guy, boy, I am in hot water."
"Guy, how goes the logging, please call me!"
Those were my first four messages.
Guy, my French brother-in-law. Well, ex-brother-in-law. My best friend.
Guy left my sister, knocked up my landlord (landlady?), and ran away to Wyoming to become a logger. I tell people that he is my best friend, but I suppose that is just because I don't have anybody else. He's a good guy.
I tell myself that he is my best friend. It's nice to think that I have a best friend, even if he is a thousand miles away. Everybody has a best friend, right? Guy can't help me with my situation, I know. I guess I just want someone to talk to. To say to him, Guy, look what is happening to me!
The two people I'd like to talk to the most, Guy and my Mom, can't, or won't answer.
I wish it were a happier Mother's Day.
Once again, life goes out of it's way to show me how lonely I really am.
I woke up yesterday and walked to the liquor store. I bought a bottle of Pinnacle Gin. I drank myself to forgetfulness. I forgot about Peggy. I forgot about prison. I forgot about the Betterbutterblog.
But Regrette wouldn't let me forget about her. She is still here. She is earning her name.
In my adoption post, I wrote as though I didn't really want her, that it just happened, almost against my will. But that's not true. I wanted a dog, and Regrette was there. She is part of our little family now.
In my adoption post, I wrote as though I didn't really want her, that it just happened, almost against my will. But that's not true. I wanted a dog, and Regrette was there. She is part of our little family now.
My fifth message to Guy:
"Guy, Peggy...Regrette. Regrette, the puppy. Peggy, Preggy. Preggy! Regret. Logger. Regrette! Where are you, Guy?"
Is that how it came out? Why can't I talk sometimes?
Guy is French. His name rhymes with "tree".
Regrette's big indoor poops remind me of how serious our situation is. Peggy will not let this situation go. Who can blame her?
My sixth message to Guy:
"Guy, things here, they've gotten crazy. I need help. How are things going out there? I'm really up s**t creek if you want to know the truth. How big is your place out there? Do they need help, you know with the logging? I wish you'd pick up the phone, I just need to hear a friendly voice. Maybe you just forgot about your old buddy Curt. Hey, call me, k? I'm worried about you!"
I know it's not that bad, my situation. I'll find another place. Like I really have anything to complain about, honestly.
I miss stability.
I miss my Mom.
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