1. Exercise right to wear OUTRAGEOUSLY unfashionable pants. Check.
2. Make blog post, despite having absolutely nothing to write about. Nearly check.
Ultimate goals:
1. Write and publish a book full of horribly inappropriate short stories. Vehemently deny books existence.
2. Stop talking about self.
Enough about me. Landon threw a cup in the shower this morning (while I was in it), and said, "Mom, are you ready for your makeup-over?"
Let it be known that I am never ready for a makeup-anything, when it involves a three year old child of any gender. It was with the most vigourous fury that he applied eyeliner to my nose, and then declared, "Now I have to rub it in!"
My nose is red and black. Help.
Nora continues to be indifferent towards anything, unless it involves ice cream.
Also: I am deeply annoyed by persons (who shall remain nameless) who continue to whine and complain about circumstances that they themselves have created. Allow me to be quite serious here, for a brief moment. I have VERY limited sympathy (in fact, none!) for anybody who puts themselves in horrid situations, then plays the victim and blames anyone and everyone around them. It is annoying. Yes, you were dealt some crap cards, but that was some 15 years ago or what-have-you. It is time to pick up the pieces (or leave them where they are...hey, cleaning is for ninnies) and get over it.
Everyone deals with things differently, but you sir/ma'am, you are simply wallowing. I do not like wallowers. I do not like them in the rain, I do not like them on a train. I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere! *Eats a bite of green ham* Boxes, mice, however the rest of it goes..
Check in later, while I describe in disturbingly graphic detail the lengths I go to scrub the mold off of my bathroom ceiling.
EDIT: I was in the shower, not in the cup.
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