Crybabies

I kind of like John Boehner. Despite his lack of testicles, and jelly like spine when it comes to standing up to the tea party morons, and despite the fact that he is against almost everything I am for, I think he has one redeeming value. He's a crybaby. John Boehner will start sobbing at the drop of a hat, and I find that somewhat endearing, because I am also a big crybaby. The other day Márkus (my fake boyfriend) and I were watching a movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. There were more than a few moments in that film that had me weeping, which I don’t like to do in front of Márkus. For some reason he likes to tell everyone that I was bawling during a movie. The worst was My Dog Skip. I think I cried for nearly thirty minutes at the end of that one.
“Geez, I didn’t think Alan would ever stop crying over that dead dog.” Márkus will announce to a bar full of people.
Which brings me to another thing that makes me cry. Dead pets. Sometimes I’ll stand outside my kitchen door, staring at the row of cat graves, and my emotions will get the best of me. If I get caught standing out there crying, I just blame it on the fumes from the garbage cans.
“Must be those onions Márkus threw out this morning.”
But the truth is just about anything can get me all emotional.  Photos of dead pets, and dead relatives will send me into a teary funk. Even television news shows can trigger my tear ducts. Like when I see that orange tinted, droopy eyed, John Boehner standing in front of a camera with that ‘I just don’t know what to do’ look on his face. It’s so sad.