Take a dump in a box and stamp a guarantee on it.

Then I’d have a guaranteed piece of shit.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it at least twice:  I’d have a dozen kids if I could get a guarantee from God that they would never get sick.

Amelia had a fever and puked on me all night.  By dawn’s early light, she was fine again.  And now Ella is sick.  Fever and in a snit.  I’m waiting for the puking to begin.  Ah, the joys of motherhood.  I’m so very tired of being pooed and puked on.  I had children so they could become the indentured servants that we were to our parents.  What happened to my dream of the army of minions who would clean their room, scrub the tub, load the dishwasher and mow the lawn? 

In an unrelated development, Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!

The Wii I won off ebay arrived today.  I haven’t even opened the box yet because I need to clear off the top of the entertainment center in order to set it up.  I hope I get all the wires and stuff right because I really want it to go through the surround sound in anticipation of Guitar Hero III.  I may not resurface for a while.  Just know that I am working on those Pearl Jam and Joan jett riffs.


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