Do what now?

My paternal great-grandmother, Gladys May, was a redneck stereotype. She was an illiterate subsistence farmer with only a passing knowledge of basic hygiene. She loved whiskey and dipping snuff. She didn’t have teeth (or own them), and the only thing between her and her shift dresses was God’s own air. According to my Granny, during her period Gladys would just shove a rag up her crotch and hold it in place with her thighs. She wasn’t always successful in keeping it there.

I didn’t much like my great-grandma, a feeling that was shared by my Granny. Gladys was mouthy and mean, and she smelled bad.

I smell nice, and I have all my teeth (though I did have to buy some), but I can get mouthy and mean. And I also love whiskey. And wine. And a chunky, filthy, dirty gin martini.

This blog is just a place for me to channel my inner Gladys May and scream into the void. I basically just want to be able to tell people to fuck off without getting into trouble for it.