Listen Mom, I know we're getting into the last early part of the 2000's but still, don't you remember "Free To Be You And Me?"
Don't dress your cat in an apron
Just cause he's learning to bake
Don't dress your horse in a nightgown
Just cause he can't stay awake
Dear Hunter's Mommy,
This is an anonymous letter from someone who spends in inordinate amount of time with Hunter. I thought I should throw in my two cents to the whole "Hunter needs meds" conversation. I would rather do it here though than in front of you and Gramma because I don't want to get in trouble and although at the age of 18 (14 and 1 score year ago) I decided that "trouble" was no longer a option, but that's with my parents, you and the Vickonator are a whole other story. You know this is Suzy writing, right?
The thing is, Hunter is one of the best people I have ever known. She is a good friend. She is smart. She is just different. She dances to a different beat. She runs at a different pace. She walks with a different gait. Whatever the case may be. She is my muse. Should you stifle her with some nasty meds I would be low on material. I would have to make stuff up. No one wants that. Plus I think she does a fine job of self medicating (please see picture below). She has perfected the doses to bring her down to half past medium. That could take years going through a handful of shrinks. Does Insurance cover marijuana in the Commonwealth? I think not.
And speaking of meds, when I asked her what time she had to work tomorrow and she told me 5.30 in the am, I expressed my sympathies at the early hour she must rise. She said, "I know, it's hard, I like to wake up early enough so I have some chill time before these fuckin' nutballs I'm living with get up and start cleaning with Q-tips. I believe she was talking about you and your mother. With compete and total respect, I beg the question, perhaps the meds are needed elsewhere?
With Great Love In My Heart,
Suzy Stuck-Up (in a passive aggressive mood) Sue me.
Get it? Sue, Suzy?
You know I'm double jointed right? I can do some sick shit with my arms. Don't test me.
Rule number One: Everything comes back to Bob
Rule number Two: When in doubt, blame it on Suzy.
I love You Man...