are all girls moody and catty?

Jack Tait woke up tired.  hungover.  frustrated.  frustrated with life.  frustrated with death.  frustrated in a world that applauds mediocrity and applauds “yes” people and ignores most.  he seeks love and acceptance but knows that this is a difficult goal in a fake and narcissistic world.  he also tries to connect with his daughter but this is another frustrating task.  constant frustrations.  constant battles.  battles about food.  battles about clothes.  battles about elf on a fucking shelf.  battles about homework.  battles about kids in school and drama amongst the girls and battles about television and more battles with food and then battles about bedtime and wonders how his parents handled him but then remembers that there was once a belt that was used and when that belt was used there was fear that was instilled and then when his Dad died he became fearful of god and fearful of Charles Manson and then looked under his bed and never saw anyone nor anything except a fisher price toy that he used to jam up his ass and try to blow his load to escape the hell which was now becoming his life.  “WHERE IS THAT MOTHERFUCKING FISHER PRICE TOY NOW???  I FUCKING NEED IT.  I NEED A RELEASE.  I NEED A PIECE.  I NEED A MOTHERFUCKING FLEUR DE LIS!!!”
Jack Tait puts on a song by The Brian Jonestown Massacre and closes his eyes.  he dreams of solitude and mountains and his little blue tricycle.  he also dreams of orgies and doctors.  he smashes his typewriter with his wrinkled fingers and his wrinkled penis.  he then ponders life…once again.
“what is life all about?  why do I struggle so much with raising a nine year old girl?  are all girls naturally moody and catty?  are all girls takers and the odd great one is a giver?  why do guys want to fuck everything in sight while girls want to make passionate love and then cuddle underneath the covers with the blue sky and orange sun seeping through the white blinds?  do women masturbate the way men do?  are we all fools in a corporate world run by corporate stiffs that inherited their boredom and riches from their boring parents?  a world of bores and peasants and do-gooders who revere the mental but do everything they can to stifle the mental.”
Jack Tait grabbed his bottle and thought about all the dumb people he has met or yelled at.  he thinks about taking off for good.  taking off to a remote mountain in a remote country.  he takes another swig and cries.  he thinks of his dead Dad.  his beautiful daughter who drives him off the fucking road of rational thinking of rational feeling.  he also thinks of his beautiful wife who has to put up with two busy minds and busy bodies.  he then thinks of all the useless parents who have four kids and treat them like long lost irrelevant dogs and teach them absolutely fucking nothing but compliance and then he throws his head down on the pillow but his brain does not allow him to motherfucking sleep.  he then pops a sleeping pill and drinks another bottle of Jack.  tired.  old.  sad.  mad.  bad.  Dad?
TGIF MY MOTHERFUCKING ASS!!!