Trigger warning: an ode to a fascist Repubican I love to hate.
January 26th, 2017
Hey Diary, it’s Chloe the homebreaker again.
I’m getting fucking sick of this bull, i.e. Trumpie and PenCity trying to run away with my man. What slots. Yeah, I said it. Slots!!!!!! Because Trumps a friggin gambling Queen, and I can’t have more babies running around my house. I got two kids and a Speaker of the house that can’t breast feed because “It’s a woman’s job.”
Wine intake: 2 cabernets
Belly fat:12 lbs
And that’s just me, not the Speaker of the House.
Paulie is just so tired that he asked our atheist black neighbor to raise our children. Not that that isn’t a little sweet because it was Black History Month but isn’t that the definition of racism?
It’s the big day. Trump will make his ‘speech’. Behind Trump’s back, I call him “Don’t ask, Don’t Tell” ).
Not sure how to handle it, my boo drank 2 and a half Ensures today. Not my recommendation. But he handled it well! And he was so cute with that–I-will-tolerate -you and that widow’s peak and that milky face that screamed “I am not a cheeto”.
I’m having my baby tomorrow. I’m super scared but can’t wait to see her face. Paul Ryan got so hysterical that he bought a Mom car–a minivan. I tried to tell him he was wearing himself out. “Chloe, if I don’t do this now, I won’t have the energy or nerve to replace and repeal Obama-Care.” He told me once he secretly didn’t care about the issue, but he was giving birth. I don’t hold it against him. 😉
But that shiny minivan…That thing means we’re that family. Instead of a mom and a dad and two kids…now we have a minivan.