Welcome to Victimville

It's a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there. Well, not for very long anyway. Hallmark needs a card for it. Something like:

Roses are Red,
Have Pity on Me.
My life is a mess,
And none of it's my fault.

Alright, so it doesn't rhyme. It doesn't have to because nothing is truly good in Victimville. Words don't rhyme. Dogs bite. Tires go flat. Your blender doesn't blend. There's constant acid reflux. Your hair is always flat. Your clothes don't ever quite fit. And your in-laws are permanent live-ins...even if you're not married. So if life is this tough in Victimville, why are there so many residents?

Apparently, the long-term reason is something called peptides. While I thought peptides were for whitening teeth, apparently they are a chemical generated by the brain that works at the cellular level. They play a big part in all types of addiction. Victimization an addiction? Just as sure as your Uncle Ralph can't get his head out of the gin bottle and your Aunt Ruth can't stop feeling sorry for herself but doing nothing about it because it's easier to complain than act, the answer is yes. Victim mentality is as much of an addiction as Rosie O'Donnell to cheese blintzes and butch women.

I've created a test you can take to discover if you or a friend may have roots in Victimville:

Question 1. Your friend has been on a diet for 2 months. She shows you her new size 8 dress she's been trying to get into for a special occasion. Your response is that you've been telling people you're pregnant for the last 10 years and have even thrown yourself several faux baby showers to cover up the fact that while you are fatter than you ever imagined you would be, it's much easier to do nothing about it. You offer her a box of powdered donuts and a diet coke.

Question 2. You friend shows you her new engagement ring. You tell her about your five failed marriages, how none of them were your fault and how all marriages end in divorce or murder. You go on to explain how love is an illusion and it doesn't truly exist and that it's a disease like diphtheria or something. You wish her well and hope you don't get invited to the wedding because you can't afford a toaster.

Question 3. You friend lands a new job making a six-figure salary. You tell her the only six-figures you will ever see are part of your old crappy nativity set and you're not even Catholic anymore because you switched to Judaism for your last deadbeat husband who left for a younger woman that weighs 28 pounds and can't stop chewing gum like an obsessed cow. You ask her if she needs an assistant.

While trips to Victimville can be a nice break from reality, long-term residency should be avoided at all costs. Live there long enough and you'll actually begin to believe that your life is as big a mess as you've created in your fantasy world. And after all, if you're going to fantasize, isn't it much better to dream about being bright, beautiful, rich and loved by all?