Brother's birthday lunch was fine. Burgers were good, but I took the lettuce off mine cause I'm scared to eat it now(anti- Lee Greenwood moment, for real) Sometimes I can't believe how much time I wasted trying to Live Up To My Father's Standards, because semi-retired? He's kind of pathetic. It's been long enough since I ate a green salad that I'm minorly craving one, but I would rather face being incidentally shot in the face and die in my Thousand Island than cope with anything else in my gut, ever again.Hate that I might need to say "hold the shit-lettuce" when I go out, brings back pandemic feelings...do not want. Kind of bugged that my publication doesn't rate as high within the fam as the fact that my thirty-year-old half brother has kept maybe his third job ever for a whole month, like a big boy. And he works in a warehouse so his co-workers are probably all autistic, ex-cons, or both.(So maybe I could stop hearing that Stoner Boy got out of high school in three years.) I know that side doesn't read, and my own history is spotty, but I do have bigger things holding me back than a bong and Fruity Pebbles. My weird cousin Jake is marrying a black lady.Wishing her a bunch of luck coping with my uncle's "sense of humor" and my aunt's sticky fingers.