Inertia, GOOD! Ambition, BAD!

It's small wonder that Therese grew to dread the name 'Elizabeth Patterson'. Every time she made the least bit of constructive critcism about the passive lump she fell for, Creepthony whined about how Saint Lizardbreath wouldn't subject him to such 'torment'. For reasons known only to herself, she saw potential for greatness in the pasty-faced goober and noted with alarm his inexplicable attraction to some immature twinkie he met in high school. She might have been able to reconcile herself to his maintaining a friendship with an old flame but for one thing: anecdotal evidence suggested that her rival stood around like a shivering pillar of shit expecting her life to fall into place of its own accord. Worse still, the whole family had desperately low expectations of themselves. As far as she could see, she had to defend a potential titan against the siren song of sacking out. Unfortunately, she proved unequal to the challenge and left in something approaching perfect despair. She even left the chil she'd hoped would bring them closer together behind, not only to prevent herself from the tempation of taking out her rage on an innocent, but to give the moron less of an excuse to vegetate.