Author of the novel WHEN YOU LOSE CONTROL

If you're at an intersection and you're trying to turn left, you HAVE to yield—driving school 101. If you can't understand that and you insist on blaring your horn, I and all the citizens around you should be allowed to collect a fee. I CAN'T TURN LEFT IF CARS ARE COMING! WHY IS THIS HARD TO GRASP!? This only happens in the affluent sections of the state. The entitled BMW and Tesla drivers who think they're driving planes instead of trend cars. Douchey.

And presents challenges  And it's annoying AF  And I just want to finish  But I can't focus  Ugh

Lemon beagle  Runs under the catahoula  Like she is a bridge  They have zoomies together  And play fight  They sleep butt to butt   Neither will fetch  Both will hug  My baby doggies

But in good ways  Happy ways  Unexpected ways  Ways that are sooner  And scary  And fun and fulfilling  My God does manifesting work  It did, it really did  I got obsessed and stayed obsessed 

It's 2 am, suddenly, you're waken up To see that an emergency broadcast has been added. The message simply states, "Run." I pulled my Care Bears blanket over my head, my bedroom was freezing. I curled up in a ball, hoping to fall back asleep, but my bedroom door opened and the portable TV appeared in the doorway, sitting on my Mom's bar cart.  The TV clicked on, making snowy static, then the words 'emergency broadcast' appeared on screen, followed by a neon orange background and the word 'Run,' in bold, black letters.  "Artie, you little booger, it's two am! Put the TV away and go to bed! And close the door, it's cold!" He didn't answer. The TV repeated the same pattern, static, neon, 'Run.' "Ugh, really?" I muttered. "Artie, I swear to God, I'll go downstairs and wake Mom!" No answer.  I rubbed my eyes and and climbed out of bed, wondering why it was so cold. I threw on my bathrobe, shuffled pa...

One party  Four friends  Four years  One bonfire  Ten pans of food  Seven kids  Four husbands  One donut  Five hours  Two pictures  Too many laughs to count

I don't think your affluence is cool, I find it garish and unnecessary  Flaunting Patagonia like the pope brandishes rings  Discussing million-dollar renovations and Tahitian vacations like they're table scraps Desperate to not so secretly announce to the world that you're well off Having money is not a personality trait  I wouldn't even be close to half your wealth, but I have so much more.  The ability to see past designer kids' clothes and arranged little meetings  Something to talk about, though I'm disregarded for my hair and thrifted clothes  If wealth is a game, then you're winning, but if life is talent and meaning, then I call checkmate