Now that he's seven...

My little man thinks that he's all growed up. Now considering that I have made it a policy to tell him the truth (except about Santa Claus and I am still not sure if I did the right thing by perpetuating the myth), I was not sure what to say when he asked me if I loved his dad. So, I told him the truth and said nope, but I sure am grateful that he was around because I wouldn't have been able to have the best son in the world if it wasn't for his dad.

Apparently that wasn't good enough, he asked WHY I didn't love his dad. I told him that when he was older, I would fill him in. He needs a few more years(like never) before I go into a fairytale version of the gory truth. He insisted that he really wanted to know and is old enough to understand. So I asked him what wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.

That ended that.

'Fraidy Cat

For the past several months I've noticed the touch lamp is sometimes on in the guest bedroom. Let me clarify, when I see it on, I walk in and turn it off. I have never actually turn the light on myself so I thought it a little strange that I found myself turning off a light that I've never turned on. Initially I dismissed it as an accident, I'm not even sure how I was able to justify in my mind that a light turning on by itself is in any way ok, but the other option was to kinda sorta freak out and have the house exorcized and start digging for dead american indian bodies. So in my mind, I dismissed it as a little odd, but nothing to worry about. Afterall, I did get the locks changed and I have been super diligent about locking up.

Then I thought maybe Cole was randomly turning the light on, even though the guest bedroom is the one room he never enters. For that matter, the guest bedroom is the one room I never enter either. But when I asked him why he was turning the light on in the guest bedroom but not turning it off, he looked down at me like I was in kindergarten and kindly asked me to quit smoking crack. Which brings me to Kitty Claw. She is the only other living, breathing creature that is able to roam freely about the house. Maybe she was turning the light on? Which now makes me sound like I really am on crack. Who ever heard of a cat with a light fetish that didn't involve a concentrated beam of a laser light? Cats can see in the dark, they don't need light, or so I'm told.

Well I finally caught her the other day. She has staked out the one remaing room in the house as her own. That crazy bi-polar cat apparently needs her privacy when she is heading south AND she needs her privacy while bathing in the soft glow of a low wattage ambient night stand lamp. She likes to turn on the light whenever she lounges on the guest bed, nestled between the comforter and pillow shams. It wouldn't bother me so much except she doesn't even have the courtesy to turn the damn light off when she leaves the room.

Fuck You World.

There are so many damned thoughts going through my head, it wants to explode. I promised I would never do a blog about my political or religious views because I'm sure I'd lose a lot of friends this way but FUCK!!! With what's been going on in the world, how can a person not have an opinion on the sad, sad state of the world? First of all, FUCK YOU George Bush, Sr. I mean seriously, FUCK YOU. You can dish it out but you can't stand it when someone dishes it out to you or to your dumb fuck retarded family. Fuck you 30 Sentators who voted against Al Frankens's rape amendment. I mean seriously, FUCK YOU nonconsentually in the ass and while we're at it, FUCK YOU in a locked shipping container. Fuck you Glen Beck and all of the crazy, illogical mother fuckers (especially on FOX-shivers) who think their rantings and ravings are on par with real news and professional journalism. FUCK YOU Richard Heene for the Hoax last week. I was watching the runaway balloon on tv with tears in my eyes feeling so sorry for you and the horror and fear you must be feeling thinking your son was 5,000 feet in the air. I almost cried for you and come to find out, not only are you a fucking liar and actively encourage your kids to be liars too, but now I just read that you "allegedly" beat the snot out of your wife too. You are too classy for tv my friend. You belong in hell. (of course, fuck me for only wanting to believe in hell when it is convenient for me, otherwise, FUCK Hell, it doesn't exist, but then again, if I have to FUCK ME, then I have to FUCK all the other hypocrites on this planet.)

On a lighter note, FUCK the experts who tell me that eating egg yolks is bad for me. Haven't you mother fuckers heard of moderation? You want to know what's bad for me? Lays potato chips, Hot Cheetos and plastic Mickey D's fries. Fuck fat and obese america and fuck the skinny lovers who have a problem with chubby citizens.

Fuck you arugula and other mixed lettuce leaves for being so delicious but having absolutely NO nutritional value whatsoever that after I eat you, I am forced to eat a bag of hot fucking cheetos, which are not only very bad for my body and skin, but makes my poopie hole hurt a whole lot.

And last but not least, FUCK MY KNEES, yes, both of them for not being able to carry me for a measly 6.2 miles without screaming out in pain like they were in Guantanamo Bay or something. Please bitches, I give you ice, ibutes and lots and lots of rest. You knees have no idea what it's like to be fucked, but I sure do. Fuck you for fucking me over at my first 10K.