Nonsense.

Yesterday, I experienced the disturbing, yet reoccurring discussion of children. The no brain cell moderator -Hope- wishes to introduce the redundant parenting discussions that range from names, schools and philosophies. Yes, backrow you are permitted to propel rotten cabbage at moderator immediately. I insist. Hope, I love her, but her existence is the complete antonym of her name. Despair is more fitting. She is fixated on children, and dreams desperately to one day have them. Until than, she's in a ten year relationship that been plummeting in a downward spiral for the past six years. She's always on some tangent about relationships or parenting. Toss alcohol in the mix and it's a full wreck of a circus.

It's a gorgeous day in San Francisco. I'm at the ramp enjoying the company of wonderful friends. As I sip from my margarita, I hear an annoying jabber of sorts. Ugh. It was her. The jabberwocky had enough alcohol in her blood to fuel her tirade. I deliberately sat on the opposite end of the table of fifteen people to avoid such menacing contact. The fact remains that I was not far enough to avoid the pang. As Maxine, an Asian woman who is a fantastic mother to two children, explains to Hope that it's difficult to raise her children in other parts of the country, due to their ethnicity. Hope, of Caucasian decent, begs to differ and dribbles alcohol on her pink seersucker dress. This went on for a while as Hope insisted to insist that the countryside was more appropriate. Jesus, Christ and Mary, is the sunny weather not suffice? Is the company of friends that dull? Piss in my drink and charge me seven bucks already?

Shellie's Proverb: Sometimes loneliness and selfishness come in the same Ziploc.

Alright, this is my pain. My pain stains from her self-righteous perspective of life. We all have or know of these parasites. She's as irritating as a tick on a dog! She just won't stop sucking. She's obnoxious and obtrusively pushy. She is not open to debate. A very narrow-minded preacher who preaches hypocrisy. Hope means well, but all conversations hem boyfriends or children related. It's truly annoying. Besides that, she's generous and means well. When she's sober. There's nothing more insulting than a person is so mentally damaged to serve advice like deep fried Prozac poppers on a plastic tray. Who the bleep are you? Who does that? It's quite annoying and for as much as I try to sweep it under the rug, the rug is not large enough.

I had come to my wits end a couple months ago. After an all out shout fest, I have decided to give up on this lost soul. I can't help someone who is unable to invest in herself. That was it. The last straw. My life is too valuable to sit there and listen to her pine over her relationship that is utterly vacuous. Life is too short. I can not and I will not. Some friends are not just toxic, they're ridiculous. Yesterday, I invited her into my home, but I did not welcome her advice. This is the word according to Shellie.

Lesson: A veracious grasshopper must snip the rope when the bundle begins to drag in the mud.