Nothing's going on.

It's almost two and all I've done today is watch three episodes of Big Day, two eposides of CSI (Las Vegas, naturally), finished the season finale of the Dead Zone (finally), and I ate a plate of Tater Tots. Then I took a shower and realized I have no business eating a plate of Tater Tots. I think I need to go on that post-holiday diet that SJ was talking about. I've never actually dieted before. (shut up, Jeremy) I've always been a believer that if you stay active you can eat pretty much whatever you want. Apparently though, sitting around for five hours watching TV isn't quite the activity level required for that.

And maybe the lemon-garlic chicken I make with the, you know, stick of melted butter isn't such a good idea either.

Or it could just be all the beer I had last night.

Swim away, swim away!

You guys ever had this stuff? Moose Munch from Harry and David?

Don't do it.

If you ever see a bag of this around, just run away.

Trust me.

The world according to a five year old.

This just in:

Superman is cooler than Santa.

(but have a merry Christmas anyway)

My tree is more lovely than a poem.

So I'm flipping through Rolling Stone magazine (thank you, anonymous Rolling Stone subscription donor) and the kid walks by and catches a glimpse of something that automatically appeals to boys under the age of ten. Butts. Naked butts, to be exact. To make a long story short, take a look at what I saw the next time I walked into the living room.





Yeah, this is what a five year old considers an appropriate Christmas ornament.


Kids are weird.

Friday, finally.

I saw a bumper sticker that said Abortion Stops a Beating Heart and I was all, yeah, but wouldn't it be kind of creepy if it didn't?

In the morning.

You know that great feeling when you turn over in the night and look at your clock and you realize you have like, two more hours before you have to get up? You look at the clock hoping it doesn't say you have to get up in twenty minutes, and when you see it's only four AM you're all happy and you roll back over with a smile on your face.

Well, you know what feels even better? When you wake up and look at the clock and notice that you would have left ten minutes ago if you actually had to go to work today. Then you still get to roll over and go back to sleep.

That's right, bitches, I have the day off. Nice.

Frumpy day.

Those of you who have been reading this sorry excuse for a blog a while may remember what the rain does to my hair.

Well, this morning I had on a jacket with no hood and my day was ruined.

All because of my hair.

Actually, all because the jacket I should have had on was at the drycleaners and when I went to pick it up yesterday I had this whole freak out because I thought I left my wallet at DSW but found it in my car a little later incident and couldn't get the jacket because I had no money on me. Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a gay retard. Who uses run on sentences.

Sundays always suck

I jut stepped in cat puke. I swear, I don't know why I bother feeding that cat sometimes. I would save time by just dumping the can of food right on the floor. The only fun part is when I hear her making the "I'm about to puke" noise and I see if I can get her off the carpet and to the tile in time. It's kind of like that game Perfection.

I put up a little comedy for you. Enjoy!

My own math problem

A box of See's candy + being alone in the office = bad combination.

Slave driver.

I'm so mean.

My kid is home sick today and I have him doing worksheets.

No slacking off here!

Well, I mean, after we finished watching Superman Returns and Fat Albert.