Motherfucker

That’s all I can say about Boston, and that’s really all that needs to be said. Tomorrow, I will give blood and do my job. I will get distracted, and angry, and sad. I don’t have a choice about reacting. I know Boston. I’ve been gloriously lost in Boston.

But I’m angry. I am sick and tired of being treated like a victim. I’m not talking about carrying a gun, or any other sort of false bravado. I’m talking about the kind of angry that gives blood every time, no just when the TV asks. I’m talking about raising my own food and chickens, donating my time, and crocheting afghan for homeless men, ANGRY. I’m that kind of angry.

Like generations of women before me, I will plant a garden, can food, and knit socks as I shake my fist at the sky and scream, “Fuck you, motherfuckers! Fuck. You.

Also, I hate Patton Oswald, or whatever his name is, but I forgive him for acting like a shithead, because apparently he’s a human being. Who knew?

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