like two dogs caged

Mmmkay- yesterday my husband dropped the biggest shit bomb. Seems we may not be leaving this hell hole in a few months as we'd previously planned. This is terrible news! I can't stand this place. We live in a tiny, crack-ass town where folks don't wear shoes to Wal-Mart and there is a disproportionate number of midgies. This reminds me of when my mom told the famiy that we were going to stay in our little wack-ass German town for two more years (we'd already been there for about seven years already). I went berserk. I literally tried to rip the plastic bars off my window and fling my desperate little body to the street below. Anyway, we won't know for another week yet about our present situation, so stay tuned. If you don't hear from me, you'll know what happened: I tore the motherf*ckin' roof off like two dogs caged.

Other than my life being over, things are going quite well. It's Saturday, but between paydays, so I'm in the ol' home office, listening to the Beastie Boys and querying. I found a listing on mandy.com (wonderful, FREE resource for entertainment hopefuls) for writers to craft short scripts on teenage morality. Teenage morality? Not to be funny, but doesn't a script on teenage morality HAVE to be a short? When I was fifteen, I would have sold my mother for an hour of grab-ass with my boyfriend. Then again, I was a horny heathen.

If I do get my "big break", what then? Will I have the courage to chase after it or will I remain with my family because of that nagging voice that accuses me of not being a good wife and mother? Or do I shut that voice up once and for all by taking the bull by the horns and claiming what's mine?