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Fitzgerald Grant has had a rough go of it our boy has.
He returns home from a 3 week trip to the G8 and a subsequent trip to Europe only to find that everything and everyone back home was batshit crazy. How can you get in so much trouble when you aren’t even there?
Apparently shit does indeed roll uphill if you’re Fitzgerald Grant III.
All Roads Lead to Fitz has a dark side y’all.
I left the country and my very mean evil pregnant wife who hates me almost as much as I hate her and my OliviaGirlfriendSoulmateFutureWifeMistress who had kinda broken up with me, but then I REALLY broke up with her later so mine was better [Burn!], but I was still seriously bummed and all the stress was starting to take the bounce out of my Superman curls so I was happy to get the hell outta Dodge cuz “Bitches be crazy.”
When I got back, my very mean evil pregnant wife was planning my birthday gala and since she hates me only slightly less than that patch-eyed kid who threw up on her, I was immediately suspicious. Then I have this crappy birthday dinner with people I only barely like anyway, and no one wants me to tell my awesome stories about winning the election (geez they act like I stole something).
I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad birthday.
And then SOMEONE accidentally on purpose didn’t stop the surveillance on my OliviaGirlfriendSoulmateFutureWifeMistress, so I had to flip through 1,864 (I counted) pictures of her with her HuxtablePuddingDaddy boyfriend. I hate pudding. WORST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER (thanks Cyrus cuz I know you did that.) My OliviaGirlfriendSoulmateFutureWifeMistress can be a serious pain in the ass, but I love her (and she’s smoking hot and smart) so I’mo let her be happy with HuxtablePuddingDaddy and find some scotch so I can get ready for this FUBAR birthday party. I heard Stevie Wonder is perfoming. I like Stevie Wonder. And I like scotch. I hope they have scotch.
I’m having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad birthday, but no one ever listens to me anyway. Next week, I’m going to Australia. And buy more Scotch.
On the way to the party, I found out that my OliviaGirlfriendSoulmateFutureWifeMistress and HuxtablePuddingDaddy were coming to my party. WORST PARTY GUESTS EVER. But wouldn’t ya know it, somebody shot my ass before I even made it to the front door which in some ways is a blessing and curse. And my very mean, evil, pregnant wife was super jumpy and guilty looking, so I’m sure her shady ass was involved in this. And on top of everything, I didn’t even get any Scotch.
It looks like tomorrow is going to be an even more terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Well at least I still have my Superman curl.
Unless I got shot in the head.
Hopefully they can shave around my Superman curl, cuz right now, that’s all I have to hang on to.