my meds work to a certain extent...

but I got into a fight with a twelve-year old at the movies last night. And the police came. This kid, who was no taller than my belly button and had a mustache, was the worst person I have ever met. I tried last night to think about it and have sympathy for her because maybe she's got horrible parents and maybe she's hurting on the inside or something along those lines, but then I remembered how she called me a fat bitch and I hate her all over again and I think about how one day she will be eighteen and all bets will be off. I will remember your mustache, kid. So look out.

bumper stickers in the i.e.

"Texas is bigger than France."

"My neck is like my truck: BRIGHT RED"

new post...finally

I was supposed to do the national blogger month thing this month, writing a post every day for the whole month. Obviously, that didn't pan out. But at least I got some photos...The picture of Ben running with a Swiffer duster captures the payoff for losing all that sleep and working so hard. (It's the small one--don't miss it. Stupid photobucket.) Look how much fun he is having, running away from me with a Swiffer. He has his own, by the way.

If you don't smile at that photo, you have the cold heart of an ogre.

Time for bed.

halloween, etc.