I got up sick this morning, but was encouraged to drive the fucking 450 miles to “We tried to elect a pedofile” Ville, so I did. I arrive feeling shittier than before. Family starts to arrive, and so does the dog that’s not supposed to come. I was told the dog was not going to be there, because the dog is a trigger when my asthmatic lungs are already fucked up(It also bites the kids). So I left, because the dog is apparently more important, and I like breathing. And now 450 miles back. A hard line was drawn today, and I honestly don’t care if I see some of my family again. If there is any positivity to this post, Whataburger:

Hope your Christmas is better than mine!