This past year the Millers have been drinking it all in: the good, the bad, and those 1.5 liter bottles of gin. Suffice it to say, we continue to suffer under the tyranny of white privilege here in Dover, MA.
My current husband, Bobby, was surprised when his boss told him last year he was being retired, but I am so pleased to announce that he has discovered macramé at the Dover Library! I'm not entirely sure how he makes these hideous flower pot hangers but I believe he knits them with his fingers.
Aw, who-the-hell cares? It gets him out of the house.
Ok, I'm going to sip this martini more slowly so I don't forget one of my children like I did in last year's letter. Eric, my oldest, returned from Mexico, where he was studying Agave Tequila. He arrived stateside with a tan and some festive new tattoos that look like burritos. Or maybe they're tacos. Whatev.
Emilie completed her 7th year of high school and set her sights on helping the homeless, rescuing abandoned animals, and saving the environment. No sloucher, that girl, but oxycontin unfairly robbed her of all of her dreams. Screw Big Pharma, I say. They ought to come up with a drug you can take to get high that doesn't rob you of the desire or ability to get off the sofa.
Lizzie returned from Africa where she had been taking selfies with impoverished people to bring some joy into their lives. But she is passionate about doing so much more so her new plan of action involves bringing couture dog accessories, such as Gucci collars and leashes, to conflict areas of both Africa and Yemen. Gotta love a girl who wants to make the world a better place!
Sue grew into her breasts last year and is now popular with the boys, but she is self-identifying as Asian which is confusing the shit out of the boys. I make an effort to serve take-out Chinese food every week so she will feel comfortable in our home. Moo shu to all of you.
When our Jane topped the scales at 300 pounds, she abandoned her movie career aspirations, but I am so pleased to announce that she has single-handedly invented a new career path for herself as a “plus-sized” pole dancer. She was always my “glass half-full” child.
Our son Teddy, who is pounding the shit out of so many children at middle school (literally, not academically), has decided he's a Communist. He enjoys lecturing us at the dinner table about trying to advance in a society without sucking the Capitalist tit. We have no clue what the fuck he's talking about but he looks so cute in his Che Guevara t-shirt.
Johnny, who graduated from selling drugs on the streets to selling them at school is definitely on an upward trajectory after only knocking over one liquor store this year as opposed to three last year. And he has also transitioned from selling crack (which he says is “so 90's”) to selling meth (with a brief detour into fentanyl that didn't work out as it killed too many of his customers). That's my boy!
Our baby Paul started talking this past year and after he mastered “shit” and “damn,” he seemed strangely obsessed with phrases like “gender fluidity” and “Trumpian narcissism.” I think parking him in front of the TV for so many hours a day may not be as educational as I had hoped but it afforded me time to watch animal videos on YouTube.
As for me, I am on a juice cleanse. No food, just booze. Back in a sec, gotta get another martini.
I bak. Pollagies iv yoo didnt git tha Millers Kristmus leddar last yere butt soo meni mutherfukkerz arent sending Kristmus cardz animoore coz u r 2 buzi trying 2 git yur stoopid rich kidz into Hahvahd so i punished u bye not sending u a card coz u ar fuggers.
No wet kisses 4 you. No fanci paper this yeer. Over and out.
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