we'll always have paris

my throat is raw. i was walking across paris, back to my hotel in the 6th arrondissement, from the eiffel tower, talking to my mother, who finally actually answered the phone after weeks of trying her and never getting her. mom started in on how it was good that hillary didn't win the election because she had received a letter from her, in which hillary threatened to take away my mother's right to be a good christian. she went on to say that it was because hillary had spent too much time with barack obama, so she had become evil. and i was outraged. i screamed at her that those were fucking outrageous lies and she should stop saying them. and she said she sure wished she hadn't thrown it away, because she'd show me that it was true. and i screamed some more about outrageous lies and that it must have been the first piece of mail she'd thrown away in years, which seemed ironic. (not to mention, who sends these things?) and i was shaking so badly, i almost had to sit down right there on a paris street. and i thought, "this is it, this is the last conversation i will ever have with my mother and i always remember that it took place in paris." and i didn't know whether to be jubilant or devastated. life is like that right now. emotions run so close to the surface it's hard to grab onto what you really feel. and i was a little surprised at the heat of my own reaction. my throat is so sore - i must have really screamed. and then i calmed down and mom admitted that she didn't like trump either and that she didn't want to vote for either of them. but she didn't remember who she had voted for, but she did vote early. and she would have to ask her friend who she voted for. i asked her to lie to me if it was trump and she said, cheerfully, and perhaps a bit too readily, "i can do that."

and we ended up ok and she said, "i love you, honey" before we hung up and i said, "i wuv," which is our family way of ducking the real words.

and i have to wonder if my yelling at her didn't scare her lucid, for just a few minutes. because she seemed ok after i did it. and i told her that i was sure that dad would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what she said about hillary and obama. and i almost hung up. and i thought for a minute that she hung up on me. and i was shaking in anger, throat raw, heart pounding, livid.

and now this is what i have imprinted on my first trip to paris. and i don't know what i think about that.  but my throat sure is sore.

in which i say fuck. a lot. and it's totally necessary

ok, US airlines can fuckity fuck fuck off for not letting young people who are 15 fly somewhere alone, not even for outrageous unaccompanied minor fees, if they have to change planes. how infantile are american young people? and how worrying is that for the future of the whole fucking world?

and you, allegiant airlines, with your incredibly bad reputation, but direct flights from one obscure airport to another (i'm looking at you FSD), blocking access to your website from outside the US. fuck you and your americentric ways.

and donald trump, you disgusting, vile, cheeto toned troglodyte. fuck off. you and all your deplorable, uneducated, toothless mouth-breathing followers. most of whom live in my hometown. fuck. the. hell. off.

and teachers who have their heads so far up their asses, they can't see daylight. and who threaten my child with scissors. and who try to blow sunshine up my ass and do fuck-all to actually help the young people who are in your class. and who have the limited world view of a troglodyte. fuck you. and the periodic table you rode in on. i bet you don't even speak a second language. other than fargoese, which, while incomprehensible, isn't actually another language.

rant over...but i'm not sorry for the swearing.