I come from a land of maxed-out credit cards and smiling children

Oh Suburbia, how you murder my soul with spoons and other gourmet kitchen utensils.

There is a boy out there that would think that is funny because he finds it hilarious that I come from the most stereotypical place of urban sprawl in all of the great north. The hilarity factor is compounded by the fact that I was indeed a cheerleader. He, however, is from a farm and I find that to be even funnier but probably a lot less lame.

My parents do not understand why I choose to live on the tracks in a-falling-apart-rental property instead of their luxuriously accommodated abode. It has less to do with the suffocating atmosphere of Happy Valley and more to do with my desire to be alone alone alone. Living there I would have to like see people from my past life and I'd probably have to be nice to them and stuff, otherwise their moms would call my mom and be like "Lindsay is a bit anti-social, now isn't she?" and then my mom would be like "Probably cause you kid is lame" and then their mom would be like "Have you tried f-ing up her neurons with Valium, Prozac, and Xanax all at the same time?". And that would not be good. At all.

My family, we understand each other so long as we aren't trying to strangle one another in a death match WWF style and this is why my family accepts the fact that I live in the ghetto and it is why they do not visit, lest their shiny cars get keyed or graffitied (that is what happens in ghettos) and this is why my mom calls and makes me feel guilty for not coming home and she tries to bribe me with food and clothes, at which she has been mildly successful.

I actually secretly think that all of the purchases my family makes are to convince me to come back. Yes, this is a completely self centered theory but it is hard to come up with anything else when my mom calls me and says things like "we just purchased this fantastic treadmill and it is so wonderful and perfect, you should come try it out" or "we just got home from Best Buy and brought with us the most gigantic LCD television you will ever see, oh and did I mention the surround sound?" and then "we are adding onto the back of the house, so you know, it will be bigger and there will be all of this extra space", etc etc etc. Then I look at my tummy and say to myself why yes you have grown and why yes a treadmill in my own home would be a wonderful remedy and then I would think to myself I do really love to watch the most scariest movies of all and what better way to enjoy them than on a gigantic television with a theater-grade sound system and then I am like gee maybe I don't have to sleep with a sledge hammer next to my bed or pre-dial 911 on my phone when I walk home at night.

Evil suburbia and your trappings of luxury.