Friday, May 12, 2006
This is my 100th post. I 'd put off writing it because I was going to try to do something profound or deep or really funny (ok, that usually fails, but at least I try) or something. And you know what? I just can't be arsed. I'm tired, it's been raining for fucking DAYS and I've been home alone all week, with two rather cranky children, because TCBIM is in Ohio. So, I'm grumpy and you, lovely internets, get the benefit of my grump.
The Boo has discovered temper tantrums. She wakes up (at what-the-fuck o'clock, I might add) and starts in with the grizzling and grouching and doesn't let up until I drop her off at daycare. I pick her up at 4 and she has about 20 minutes of "Oh yay, mummy's here, LaLa's here, I'm so happy," before she starts in again. It's getting really old. Really old. She's not hurt, she's not sick, she's just pissed off because I won't let her eat rocks or the plants or drag the cat around by his tail or rip all the books off the bookshelves. And if I put her in the playpen, forget it. She'd scream less if I were sticking bamboo shoots under her fingernails. It's Driving. Me. Nuts. I'm blaming it on the rain.
We have mice in the house. I found their nasty little mousey poops all over my silverware drawer, which is totally grossing me out. Like, totally, man. So I bought some snap traps, trying to be environmentally-, and more to the point, pet- and kid-friendly, but what did the little fuckers do? Figured out how to get the peanut butter out of the trap without springing it. So, D-Con it is. Your days are numbered. You ate my butter and that is a sin I just can't forgive.
Oscar the Cat, has a cold. I know I shouldn't laugh at my pets, but there really isn't much that's funnier to see than a Persian cat with the sneezes. I can laugh at him with abandon, however, since he isn't catching the damned mice. He also puked up a huge hairball onto my brand new futon cover. His fragile ego will just have to deal.
My 18 month-old G5 shit the bed the other day. I turned it on, it did its start-up thing and I went to check my email, whereupon it went *pop* and went dead. Dead, dead, deadski. No blown fuses, no shut off power cord, nada. So, I have a $2,000 paperweight. Again. This damned thing has given us a ton of problems since we bought it. Everyone raves about Apples, but honestly, I've had fewer problems with my 8 year-old Gateway.
It really has been raining for days. It's supposed to rain right thru the weekend and all of next week. Today, it's raining under the doors here at work. Lovely. There's a puddle outside my office. Not outdoors, just outside my office.
And now, for your viewing pleasure, me. The Whale. I'm only 27 weeks right now. I dread to think what I'm going to look like at 40 weeks. The word gi-normous springs to mind. Oy.