Anthony Goldstein's Journal

001: a new start
Today it occurred to me that my raging scorpion bint of a grandmother might have a point. I know, I'm quite aware that she lacks even the barest minimum of intelligence, and no one needs to remind me that senility runs in inbred, pureblooded families. Reason has never been a quality that she possesses, and I will admit that I've never listened to the ramblings that spew from her gummy, drooling mouth. Call me insensitive, but it's hard to take a person that unattractive seriously. It plagues me to know that we were hatched from the same gene pool. Today, however, she overcame the incredible odds against her and spoke the first statement of truth I've ever witnessed.

"Anthony, don't you think you can do better than the slag that left here, this morning?"

At first, I was almost offended that she could so easily discount my taste in the fairer sex. Then, I considered defending the half-dressed skirt that had attempted to sneak out. Even though she had shagged a bloke she had known for a scant ten minutes, what occurred in the bedroom led me to believe that she was hardly a pro. However, I realized that my grandmother's comment was, in fact, a compliment. I do deserve shags with only the best. I have been entirely too giving of myself.

I'm sorry, ladies. From now on, you are just going to have to try harder.