| I realize it's been a while since I wrote. I've come to terms that many of the thoughts I feel strongly enough to memorialize are deeply personal, and not worth sharing with the prying public. However I suppose as a sort of therapy, I'm laying down all of my irrational thoughts and fears today in the hopes of someone reading them and giving me the swift kick in the ass I may have needed for a good long while.
Ironically, the biggest fear I feel right now has only really pierced my mind this morning. I have an endocrine disorder that royally messes with my body. One of the marked statistics of this particular disorder is that I have five times the likelihood of having heart disease, and seven times the likelihood to develop cancer over the course of my life.
Since I was diagnosed I haven't given this much thought at all. I'm 26, perfectly healthy (well...okay, reasonably healthy) and as far as I know, there's never been a single case of cancer within my known immediate family. However, while I find myself deep in the throes of christmastime panic and depression often associated with the holidays, I keep coming back to this fact, over and over and over again. It's irrational, unnecessary and ludicrous. And yet, as much as I am loathe to share it with you, I'm absolutely, completely terrified. Seven times the chance....seven times. I realize that this is still a rather low statistic, but it's enough to make me lose sleep at night. There's no reason for it. None. Also, as much as I want to downplay this disease, I know that it can be rather severe. It came as a relief to me knowing that all of the other mental and physical maladies I've had throughout the years have a strong link to my disease, which is not treatable, but manageable. So as it turns out, I may not be so crazy, after all. I'm just in a state of perma-PMS. Oh happy day!
Forgive my unfounded ramblings, I'm more than certain I've just been down in the dumps due to inevitable holiday stress. This is my least favorite time of the year by a huge margin. I'm holding out for Spring.
Maybe things will be better then. | comments: 6 Bla? or Bla bla.   |
| As of 2:00 AM this morning, at 7 pounds 14 ounces, my niece Olivia Anne Robb was born. She's GORGEOUS! I'm so proud of my sister! I can't believe she's a MOM! And I'm an AUNT! Hehe!
Here she is. Isn't she gorgeous, especially for a newborn?
 | | comments: 2 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| Nothing seems to kill me no matter how hard I try
Nothing is closing my eyes
Nothing can beat me down for your pain or delight
And nothing seems to break me
No matter how hard I fall nothing can break me at all
Not one for giving up though not invincible I know
Ive given everything I need
Id give you everything I own
Id give in if it could at least be ours alone
Ive given everything I could
To blow it to hell and gone
Burrow down in and
Blow up the outside world
Someone tried to tell me something
Dont let the world get you down
Nothing will do me in before I do myself
So save it for your own and the ones you can help
Want to make it understood
Wanting though I never would
Trying though I know its wrong
Blowing it to hell and gone
Wishing though I never could
Blow up the outside world | | comments: 3 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| When You Say It's Dead & Gone
I Know You're Wrong
Cut & Slash, Sharpest Knife
It Won't Die
Poison Cup, Drank It Up
It Won't Die
No Fire, No Gun, No Rope, No Stone
It Won't Die
Why You Gotta Shove It In My Face
As If You Put Me In My Place
Cause I Don't Care
If You Or Me Is Wrong Or Right
Ain't Gonna Spend Another Night,
In Your Bed...
Laws Of Man, Are Just Pretend
They Ain't Mine
Love So Good, Love So Bad
It Won't Die
Some Talk Too Long, They Know It All
I Just Smile and Move On
Words Ain't Free, Like You & Me
I Don't Mind...
Why'd You Have To Be So Mean & Cruel,
The Dogs Are Loose I'm On To You
You Ball and ...
Chained Together From The Dawn To Dusk,
Can't Call It Leavin, Cause It's Just
I Never Came.... | | comments: Bla bla. |
| I need help.
I need more than I know I'm capable of achieving on my own, and weary of constantly being overwhelmed. I'm sick of alienating everyone I care about.
I need to make this stop.
I need to make it stop. | | comments: 3 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| | Hell really is surprisingly static and inorganic, isn't it? | | comments: Bla bla. |
| Goddess Dressing
Ingredients:
1/2 cup olive oil (or sub another veggie oil for a lighter flavor)
1/2 cup water
3 tablespoon tahini
2 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon tamari / soy sauce
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon powdered garlic
2 teaspoon miso (any kind)
fresh green onion / parsley to taste | | comments: Bla bla. |
| Destroy everything you touch today
Destroy me this way
Anything that may desert you
So it cannot hurt you
You only have to look behind you
At who's undermined you
Destroy everything you touch today
Destroy me this way
Everything you touch you don't feel
Do not know what you steal
Shakes your hand
Takes your gun
Walks you out of the sun
What you touch you don't feel
Do not know what you steal
Destroy everything you touch today
Please destroy me this way
Destroy everything you touch today
Destroy me this way
Anything that may delay you
Might just save you
You only have to look behind you
At who's underlined you
Destroy everything you touch today
Destroy me this way | | comments: 1Bla? or Bla bla. |
| So lately, I admit I've been a bit aloof, even avoidant. I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I've been walling myself off and I partially expect to just crawl into a dark place, curl up and wait for death like an old, wounded animal.
Is it normal to feel over the hill at age 26?
Looking back I realize I had a good run; been rather busy the past few years; done a lot of things, met a lot of very influential people, been in broadway shows, posed for photographs and modeled myself after pretty things, climbed mountains, forged friendships, lost loves, and learned from it all. These memories, I will forever cherish. But I can't help but to view myself as I was ten, five, even two years ago, and wonder what happened. I used to be beautiful, so much more beautiful than I am today. I was radiant, personable, I overcame burdens, and with my sheer ambition, earned a lifetime's worth of achievements and honors. Now I feel as if I should never bother again, since I am nothing more but an ugly, hollowed out doll of what I used to be.
When did I become so jaded? | | comments: Bla bla. |
| Yeah I know, my journal looks like crap but I'm too sick to update it, so to heel with it for now. Just a quick update, I have food poisoning, not sure if it's salmonella, but whatever it is it's knocked me on my ass. So in advance, please forgive the starvation-driven insane rant I am about to subject you to:
I’m watching the news about the Australian fires and seeing this story about how these cyclists passed by a large burned area and a bunch of koalas ran out and started pointing at their water bottles, so the cyclists got off their bikes and gave the koalas their water! But I mean how weird and cool it is that koalas are so SMART? I mean I had no idea! They acted like little kids, pointing at the water and knowing what was in side and how to drink it I mean ohmygosh that is so COOL!
http://blogs.abc.net.au/sa/2009/02/thirsty-koala-1.html?program=adelaide
HAH! See, I’m NOT crazy! …I’m not on drugs, but after having nothing but gatorade and toast for the past two days I’m starting to get a little loopeh….why no Daddy, the valkyries haven’t come for the cat yet….but we’ll have such a grand tea party when they arrive…. | | comments: Bla bla. |
| | More to come. I promise. | | comments: Bla bla. |
| To quote Demetri Martin: "An ex is a lot like a mediocre movie, I liked it at the time but I wouldn't want to see it again."
So last night I received two rather cryptic e-mails, one to my work address, one on my Myspace account (yes, I have a Myspace, I hate it just as much as you do but I can’t help it). The work e-mail was a voicemail recording that my phone sends directly to Outlook if a call fails. The message itself was a rather unnerving expletive-laced threat against my life, which was odd since I'd just had my phone installed the previous Friday. The myspace message was from some girl I didn’t know, telling me that some trollish boy I dumped over four years ago had been looking through my email account. I guess she’s his current flame and caught him doing something naughty with my personal accounts. I know he’s not smart enough to hack anything, so I’m a bit perplexed as to how, and more importantly WHY he’d do something like that after four years of zero contact. I'm not sure how or if the two incidents are related, but it got me thinking about him, and how after all this time I've changed and grown dramatically while he's remained a grease stain on the fabric of society. A puddle of urine in the gene pool, so to speak. And that inevitably led to other trains of thought regarding my love life. Looking back, I can say with utmost certainty that my dating history is probably more entertaining to read than a Tom Robbins novel. Let’s reminisce, shall we?
My first soirée into the world of dating was the high school freshman football player by the name of Dustin Fields, living in a trailer with his parents in Cypress and had his best friend dump me via phone after six months. Apparently he didn’t have the balls to do it himself.
Then, years later, there came the post-high school flame, the punk rock kid that every high school frosh soph had the hots for. Of course, by the time I got to him he’d gained about thirty pounds and had no job. I decided that the relationship was over when he shoved me off of his second story balcony to avoid being caught by his father home alone with a girl.
After him came The Troll. Ryan. The grease stain. That short, squat, troglodyte manchild I thought I could reform. Yes, girls, we all have that one mistake, don’t we? Aged twenty-one, still living at home sharing a bunk bed with his teenaged brother, high school drop-out, never had a job in his life. But all of that was okay, because one day he’d make it as a big rock star. Never mind the fact that he had no band, no songs written and not that much talent. He was gonna MAKE it, man. Really. Honest. Yep. After a few months I realized my charity case was a complete failure and bailed out after finding out he suspected he had an STD and yet refused to get himself tested “for fear of the results”. He also became rather angry when I promptly cut him off from all sexual activity until he changed his mind. Which, thankfully for me, never happened.
Mere months after freeing myself from the Troll’s Lair I found myself rebounding with a younger, handsome boy named Trenton, an outspoken vegetarian whom shared a community college drama class with me. It didn’t last long. Poor boy. I scared the living daylights out of him. I think the beginning of the end came when I broke the skin of his foot with my stiletto heel as he was lacing up my corset in preparation for an avant-garde photo shoot I had that day. Someday I hope he finds a nice, quiet vegan girl that can make him happy. They’ll share many fruitful conversations about the evils of democracy and spend many a blissful night throwing pipe bombs into the windows of meat packing plants.
Then there was the sweet, soft-spoken effeminate heterosexual graver, who broke up with me after nearly a year of being together while playing World of Warcraft. There really isn’t anything more I could possibly add to that.
A brief fling the following summer, with a painfully awkward aspiring actor who was my exact height and whom I could tell was extremely put off by my eccentricities much the same way young Trenton was. He was the quiet type. God, was he gorgeous though. I know, I know. Sue me.
After that there was the short but passionate relationship with the Russian Model, who shared my sociopathic tendencies. Until I found out that he really –was- a diagnosed Sociopath who had stopped taking his medication. I can't make that up. Even so, I miss him as a friend. We had some damned interesting conversations.
And so, we have come to the end. I've had my hair colored every shade and hue of the spectrum, been a riot girl, goth, bookworm and gamer nerd, and now find myself aged twenty-five, living in Washington, happily sharing my life with my quiet, stunningly handsome, talented little artist boy. Things are pretty swell. No nukes have gone off yet. I don't think.
We’ve come a long way, baby. You have no idea. | | comments: 6 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| ...Or so Steve sputtered as he was hit in the face with a battalion of white fuzzy pollen tufts while walking up toward our apartment.
So, now that Spring is FINALLY kicking in up here, I have discovered that the trees here like to have orgies every June. I woke up one morning and saw tons of white material falling out of the sky. I swore it was snow, it was even gathering on the lawns, in gutters and on car rooftops the same way snow does. But, much to my astonishment, it's not snow. It's the airborne slurry of copious amounts of pollen and fluffy seed tufts. Dirty, dirty tree sex. Yep.
The wild wanton passions of the local flora have subsided, but I won't soon forget the arboretal debauchery anytime soon. | | comments: 2 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| Get ready, it's photo time. These are some of the snapshots I've taken since moving up here to Washington. Or should I say, snapshits. OHH-HOOOOO!...*sigh*
An image of the scenery taken from my car window en route through California, heading up toward Oregon
A dead pigeon I found in my parking space a few mornings ago. It was sad, but oddly beautiful, too.
Steve, napping with my cat, Stewart. He still doesn't know I have this picture.
Gasworks, a really super-cool park in Seattle.
I got sick, and was bored, so Steve and I took a sharpie to my pale-ass legs. Wheee!
More sharpie goodness!
Irony at the local supermarket.
A candle that was on our table at the Dandy warhols concert.
The Dandy Warhols.
I'll probably post an entry just about that concert, because it was AMAZING.....but for now, I sorta like this format better. :) | | comments: 2 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| | Never eat that much swedish fish in one sitting ever again....rrrrrghhhh....*dies* | | comments: 1Bla? or Bla bla. |
| There are so many experiences I've had that I meant to share, but by the time I find the energy to write about it, they're gone from my memory. In a sense maybe that's part of the beauty of such things, their fleeting nice-ness, once given, then gone. I guess there's a sort of Nietzsche-esque grace in that.
On a less hippie-ish note, I'm ok. Not doing fantastic, but I'm ok. Haven't found a job yet, had a couple interviews, no call backs. If this next week goes by with still no results I have decided that I shall join the ranks of the Seattle baristas making a steady $10.50 an hour. :3
A few people popped into my thoughts last night. To my droogs; Jessie, Dave, Rory, Nik, April and Iain: I wish I'd remembered to get on the computer to write to you last night when I still remembered the lovely things I wanted to express to you, but Steve was using the computer at the time and when he'd gone to bed I'd forgotten what it was I had wanted to do in the first place. How typically Me. Arrr.
I tend to get easily discouraged, it's only been a week but at the same time I'm not very patient. I hope I can learn that up here, among other valuable lessons. I don't feel that this is Home yet. I don't feel the unending calm and life that this place infused me with the last time I had visited. Maybe it's just my cynicism and "City Sickness" still struggling to maintain its venomous grip on my mind. When I'm finally settled, I can finally open my doors to anyone who wants to come play in the woods or out by Washington Lake, which I keep hearing is one of the most beautiful things on the west coast during the summertime. Funny as well, that everyone I strike up a friendly chat with seems to be from California! The Macy's cashier, the coffeehouse girl, the comic shop owner, the grocery store bag boy, the pet store clerk, even the subway sammich-maker who barely spoke english. Heh. I found that sort of funny. Not funny ha-ha, more like funny-oh-that's-almost-interesting. Ah, well.
To the six people that still somehow kept their Light in that crazy maelstrom of anger and concrete: I miss you. (Plus one, although I have yet to meet the famous baby Salem. I'd call you Lil' 7 but I think your mommy would glare a hole right through my head.) | | comments: 2 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| I'm jittery and I didn't sleep last night. I'm so excited, yet still terrified somehow. The thought of dragging two very unhappy kitties in my backseat for a 20-hour drive doesn't exactly help, either. :3
I'm coming home! Yay! Waawwrshington here I come! | | comments: Bla bla. |
| | Current Music: | Radiohead - Reckoner | | Subject: | Updatey-goodness. | | Time: | 08:39 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/ankscaredg.gif) anxious |
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| So, I figured I owed it to myself to write, even if it was nothing more than boring, day-in-the-life drivel. I finally got my hair color redone, and yes, I am aware of the zits on my left cheek. Grumble grumble harrumph. Anyhow, here's a picturey-bob. Ta-da:
I am a happy taco! A...brunette taco. And yes, I just realized how insanely inappropriate that sounded. I'm leaving it in for comedic value and to show you all just how naive I really am. I'm averaging at about three to four unintentional double entendres a day, now.
I lost my job at Ntreev. They called me in Tuesday morning and told me to pack my things and go. They accused me of falsifying information on my work application, yet for some suspicious reason they kept dodging the question when I asked them what, precisely, I had falsified. Also, I never signed any paperwork acknowledging my termination. I refused to unless they told me the reasons behind being sacked, so they just sent me out the door without signing it. So basically, it has "wrongful termination" and "illegal business practice" written all over it. Will I raise a fuss and have them royally farked? That remains to be seen. Keep tuned. News at eleven.
Well, it's not SO terrible, at least. I can sense the atmosphere shifting once again; getting ready for another phase shift. I feel it. This was just another 'reminder' to get my ass in gear and get out of here. I leave for Washington on Wednesday. I guess this was the push I needed, and to be honest I'm a bit amazed at myself for this uncharacteristic bravery and flow. I'm not the type to just decide to get up one day and move to a new place on a whim. I always used to envy those people, lost friends along the way that just up and left, to Japan, to England, Canada, New York...it must be nice to be so liquid, and so determined.
I feel like I'm coming home. I'm terrified, but happy. However the prospect of having to drive 1,500 miles with two terrified felines in the backseat is less than appealing. Thank god Steve is flying in to rendezvous with me in Santa Rosa. He's been so amazingly supportive; it's an arduous task at best, and a HUGE favor, to fly in somewhere you've never been to and help someone drive through two states and help them move their stuff into a new place. A thousand kisses. That's what I owe him for this. Mmmyep.
Wish me luck. I'll miss you. | | comments: 2 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| | "Bush veto expected on waterboard ban Article Last Updated: 03/07/2008 08:33:56 PM EST
WASHINGTON (AP) — The White House says President Bush will veto legislation on Saturday that would have barred the CIA from using waterboarding — a technique that simulates drowning — and other harsh interrogation methods on terror suspects. Bush has said the bill would harm the government's ability to prevent future attacks. Supporters of the legislation argue that it preserves the United States' right to collect critical intelligence while boosting the country's moral standing abroad. "The bill would take away one of the most valuable tools on the war on terror, the CIA program to detain and question key terrorist leaders and operatives," deputy White House press secretary Tony Fratto said Friday. The bill would restrict the CIA to using only the 19 interrogation techniques listed in the Army field manual. The legislation would bar the CIA from using waterboarding, sensory deprivation or other coercive methods to break a prisoner who refuses to answer questions. Those practices were banned by the military in 2006. The legislation cleared the House in December and won Senate approval last month."
Amiriyah. that's all I have to say.
That's all. I didn't vote for this cretin. It's stuff like this that makes me horrifically ashamed to be an american. I take no pride in my country, for we are sinister, and are run by corrupt and unintelligent men who will stoop to such levels. We are dumbed down to the point where we will accept anything; be taught to hate anyone, if our government tells us it's the appropriate thing to do. I am ashamed. | | comments: Bla bla. |
| Promises, promises. I swear, tomorrow I shall force myself to write.
In the meantime, I found this awesome website from another friend's page. What would Garfield be like without Garfield? Meet Jon Arbuckle, the most depressing, psychotic human being you'll ever know.
http://garfieldminusgarfield.tumblr.com/ | | comments: Bla bla. |
| Midnight. Driving home from work, again. As much as my work schedule sucks, I have to admit I rather like being able to collect my thoughts and unwind on a dark, starlit path with nothing but good music and empty roads laid out in front of me. Tonight was especially pleasant, since there's a torrent of rain falling outside. My heaven. It was such a treat, traversing the streets completely slick with their drink, the sheets of vapor strewn from the other cars making beautiful arcs and swirls that floated perpendicular across the freeway. It's times like these that I can really let myself think. Normally this is how I would spend my last moments before sleep. But, since I work until midnight, that's not really an option for me anymore, since the moment my head hits my pillow I'm out (well, after video games, phone calls, and random internet-ness for an hour). So this is a nice substitution.
Maybe it was the nice change in the weather, or the beauty of the water coinciding with the harshness of that ugly man-made road, but I felt really serene and happy on the drive home. And then I realized something funny was happening: Instead of the usual self-deprecating memories and thoughts that are constantly beating away at my conscience, I was reflecting back on all of the kind things and happiness I've brought onto others.
Like the time I witnessed a horrible accident and pulled off to offer hugs, water bottles and my emergency blankets (okay, my winter parka and hooded sweatshirt) to the drivers, who weren't injured but very badly shaken.
Or when I was working at a small bakery in a mall and I saw a girl crying on the bench outside, so I ran out and handed her a free pastry and a hot chocolate.
Or when I nearly hit a dog and I left my car stalling right there in the middle of the road while I comforted the poor creature and ran around with it for twenty minutes until I found his owner.
Making dinner and hot tea for my boyfriend when he was ill.
Hugging my mother without a word just because she looked like she was having a bad day.
Giving away my very last jellybean (they were reeeeally good, too).
This really isn't like me. I always have been someone who berates myself and dwells on the horrid things I've done to others, pain I've caused, accidental or otherwise, all the things I've done to let others down. I hate myself constantly for these things. But not right now. Now, I don't really question things, I'm just enjoying the smile on my face as I remember those I've touched, hopefully for the better.
I feel...happy. | | comments: Bla bla. |
| I'm home from Arizona, it wasn't terribly fun and now I dew beleef i got sicks.
So I'm home in bed, bored, and my imagination is soaring since I have nothing better to do other than sit here and rest. For me, this is a very dangerous combination.
So I decided to post random images of my feets.
And my cat.
And my hairs. Wif scarfs.
And the grease stain on my parking space that I think looks like the Stay-puft marshmallow man wearing sunglasses.
And my boyfriend.
I am deeply apologetic for my lack of substance in this post. I dew think I have a biting case of the Normal today. I hope there's a cure.
......He IS hot though, isn't he?
~ M
p.s. I want ice cream. | | comments: 1Bla? or Bla bla. |
| I'm leaving in forty minutes for Arizona where the service is being held.
*shrug* Not much else to say other than that. | | comments: 1Bla? or Bla bla. |
| So I'm back to reality and I have to say, I'm not at all pleased. Compared to the heaven that was Seattle, this place is poisonous to me. Ever since I arrived back in California everything feels detached and foreign. I'm trapped. I feel this subdued sort of panic, a fear and loathing of this place and the inescepable thought of its...inescapableness, heh.
Okay! That's enough happy stuff. Honestly though I really, truly and earnestly don't think I've ever had that much fun in my life. Spending the time with Steve was phenomenal, and I've never felt so right, or so at ease with myself. Or with anyone else for that matter. The atmosphere of the entire town was alive, the trees, rivers, even the rain just seemed more peaceful. No bleached hair, fake attitudes, no decimated landscape or towering skyscrapers, just a wonderful tranquility and the scent of earth was everywhere you turned. I fell in love in Seattle. In many ways. ...the only regret is not knowing how to stumble my way back.
Picture time!
Don't we look amazing together?
Weird/crazy/cool picture of me apparently fondling a candle.
Lawl, sunken parking garage.
Italian restaurant + Steve + new year's = great
Concrete planter + camera + good friends = funny
People. Hmm.
Steve likes to take pictures. *cough*
Hey look, it's a crazy person!
More coolness.
UNDERGROUND coolness.
Hehe, so there you have it. There's so much more I wanted to spew on about, six days' worth of the most amazing time of my life. Discovered I can make the yummiest pasta in the world (the world, you hear me?), that Rock Band is horribly entertaining with good friends and bad singers, and that nothing is ever going to be quite the same anymore. How can the world ever be the same size when you've seen the cosmos in a single person's eyes? | | comments: 6 Bla? or Bla bla. |
| So my sister recently went to a funeral for her husband's grandmother (don't worry folks, this has relevance). I guess at the ceremony, everyone had made the favorite family dishes that Nana would make with everyone when they were kids. It was a really nice, intimate affair, and when she told my mother all about it, the daffy old woman got the idea that she wanted more "traditional family foods" to start a similar trend. I remember my grandmother making the old Slovak recipes my great-grandmother Slovak (yes, that was REALLY her last name, folks) used to make with her. Unfortunately, my grandmother went senile long before she could pass her cooking knowledge down to me, and sadly, my mother has the baking ability of a retarded lemur.
Regardless, she and I decided to make kolacky (pronounced ko-LAH-chee) for breakfast Christmas morning. So we got up early, put a tiny room heater in the bathroom to act as a makeshift "leavening area" (yeast needs temps of at least 80 degrees to rise and my house is a friggin ice cave in the morning), which confused the heck outta my dad when he finally woke up and tried to, ehm...use the facility and found the door barricaded, got our fruit filling (from a can, I'm sorry to report but it was delicious anyway) and made us some of the most spectacular Slovak breakfast foods the world has seen. Dear god....I've been inhaling these things since they came out of the oven. I never believed in food addictions before, but I seriously can't stop thinking about how awesomely delicious they turned out. I'm determined to incorporate more Czech cuisine into my baking routines. No wonder Nana was always so happy, this stuff is farking delicious!
Christmas was the usual family affair. There are three hyperactive kids in our tiny family unit now, the first since I was a lil' tyke, and let me tell you if my sister and I were anything similar, I'm suprised the rest of the Skoda women didn't all have themselves sterilized. Too many wee ones! Ack! All with atrocious manners! Screaming and tearing through the house, putting sugar on EVERYthing, chewing with their mouths open, ripping apart all of their presents out of turn (we always go in order, one at a time. Don't ask), eating their dinner with their fingers (at age 9 you th ink you'd know better), and to top it all off someone gave the three year old a drum set for christmas. The gods of Ibuprofen smiled upon us that day.
It was pleasant, albeit an eight hour reminder of why I never plan on having any children of my own. *pats belly* Ahhhhhh...nuffin' in here, nope nope! *rejoices* | | comments: 3 Bla? or Bla bla. |
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