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The Land of the Gun-Totin’, Country-Lovin’, Beer-Bellied Man
Spending the weekend in “Trashville”
Disclaimer: If you are a Trump lover, you might want to skip this article. Although I will kindly read your comment, I might not respond.
Lake Havasu, Arizona. Have you been here?
I am sitting here, taking a break from all the madness on the lake, retreating to my semi-quiet room at the Nautical Inn.
This place conjures up a lot of bad memories and maybe that is why I have a distaste for it.
The first time I came to Lake Havasu, I was 13 years old. My birth mom, as I often refer to her but maybe I’ll just start calling her Cathy, was living here after she fled California escaping all of her creditors.
After she kicked me out of the house in Temecula, California, she and my step-dad continued their crazy drug-induced lifestyle, which led them to lose everything. They lost their house and all of their valuables.
Most remnants of my childhood were gone. I have a few pictures but that’s it.
I’m not sure what made them decide to move to Lake Havasu other than they had to get the hell out of California. Later she spent many days bashing California as it did them wrong. Classic narcissist!
