First World Problems – Page 7 – Angry Zack's Anger Diary

You Don’t Get to Unplug

Dear Diary …

I was on vacation recently. And I feel like I need to point that out, since none of my coworkers seemed to notice when they were blown’ me up all week asking me to do stuff. Actually, I stand corrected, they DID know I was on vacation, because everybody started their request with the same phrase … “I know you’re on vacation, buuuuut …”

Now let me be clear … I’m not here to complain about that. I get it. Just because I’m not in the office, that doesn’t mean all work life stuff automatically disappears. And furthermore, I’m here to kick some butt, and in order to do that, you can’t be laying around and binge-watching “This Is Us” for a week, you gotta have the Eye of the Tiger and be willing to put in the work.

(Then you wantch “This Is Us”)

But here’s the rub …

When my coworkers go on vacation … I can only guess that they’ve taken a trip to Mars or something for the week, cuz they are GONE. Even if there is an emergency at work that requires their immediate attention that nobody else can take care of … you got better luck trying to teach your grandma how to use Snapchat than you do getting a hold of one of these people.

And when they come back, those jerks are all, “Oh sorry I didn’t get back to you. I was on vacation and I just totally unplugged.”

NO! You don’t get to unplug for the week!!!

I didn’t get to unplug for the week when you’re up my butt asking for stuff, so you can’t go play Margaritaville without at least being available if we need you. Sorry … you might not like it … but that’s the way it is. Don’t wanna do it? Then go get a useless job somewhere else where people don’t even notice if you’re gone.

So since I’m talking about my week off … notice I’m not really calling it a “vacation” since I didn’t go anywhere. Part of the reason I took the time off is because my wife had to go out of town to see family, and somebody had to watch the children. And since there’s ain’t really no babysitters available at four in the morning, I gotta play Stay At Home Dad for a few days.

And here’s the angle most exhausting thing about taking care of children … you never get credit for doing anything with them. Ever.

On Friday my daughter got to go to a birthday party with all her friends, and they got to see a movie. Then she came home and we baked cookies, made ice cream sandwiches, and did all sorts of activities. Then on Saturday during the day she went to a friend’s house for a play date. I then picked her up from there and took her to another friend’s house for dinner so all the kids could play together there.

I mean … we are talking a tornado of fun all crammed into two days.

So when I wake up Sunday morning and come downstairs, what do you think is the first thing out of her mouth?

“Daddy are we going to do anything fun today? I wanna DO something today.”

You know what we’re gonna do today? Sit. That’s what we’re going to do today.

And I don’t know about you … actually I don’t even care about you … Daddy thinks that sounds like a TON of fun.

“But I want to DO something.”

What???? What are we gonna do? We just did EVERYTHING for the last two days … there ain’t no more things to do. We did ‘em all!! Now go play Minecraft for like 8 hours and give me a freakin’ BREAK.

No credit with these kids. Ever.

I bet I could take ‘em to Disney World for a week and the day we get home they’d be all, “I’m bored … what are we gonna to today?”

And the answer’s the same … Sit. [[Mouse voice]] HAHA kids … Mickey loves a good sit!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

Gettin’ Froze Out

Dear Diary …

I am gettin’ froze out! I’m King of my Castle … Lord of My Manor … Ruler of My Kingdom … oh who am I kidding? No I’m not. I got no control. And even worse, I’m being held hostage by an eight pound demon.

Yup … tiny dog is freezing me out!

You see Diary, we have a little dog named Francie, and she is seriously about the size of one of those dogs that rich 21 year olds carry around in a $1,000 purse while they shop on Rodeo Drive. And “dog” really isn’t even the correct term, she’s more like a rat … or a weasel … or some other kind of rodent. Because despite her tiny size … she is totally controlling my house. Specifically … my bed.

Now … I like dogs. But I don’t like ‘em in my bed. I’ll hang out with ‘em all day long, but when it’s time to go to sleep. You go in your bed, and I go in mine.

The problem is, my wife’s philosophy on this is “Oh you’re such a cute little squinkitude!! … You love to snuggle don’t you?” Which in lady language translates to, “Me no listen to husband.”

So now … this dog is in my bed. And not just “in my bed” … but right in the MIDDLE of my bed. By my head. Like a human. And in between me and the wife.

And Diary … I’m a happily married man. And I like showing that fact off fact from time to time with a little “mashing of the potatoes”. But now, I’m gettin’ totally froze out by this attention-hogging maggot who is Zack blockin’ me from any action.

And her being in the way would be bad enough … but that little rat grows at me when I get near what she defines as “her” space. YOUR space???? This MY bed, yo! I don’t hear you doin’ no Sleep Number commericals to pay for this thing!!!

And sure, I could just pick that weasel up and toss her off the bed, but that’s not exactly a subtle, spontaneous romantic move. I might as well broadcast [SIREN] … “Red alert! Red alert! Husband on the move!!! Look alive people!!”

That’s not exactly a chapter in 50 Shades of Grey … let’s just put it that way.

So there you have it Diary … you spend your whole life busting your butt to get a good education, find a good job, make some money, and provide a life for you and your family … only to have it all controlled by an evil 8 pound kingpin who lays around all day and still manages to dictate every minute of your entire life.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Personal Shopper

Dear Diary …

Christmas is in the air. And it is … it’s in the air and you can’t say anything about it! Thanksgiving is OVER … so now all you people complaining about store decorations or Christmas music or whatever … you’re DONE! We are now all in agreement that it is here. Which of course means … it’s time to Christmas shop.

And what I’ve learned when you’ve got kids is that everybody in your life turns you into their own personal shopper. Cuz they all wanna be told EXACTLY what to buy for the kids. Which that alone I’m OK with. You want the kids to get something they actually want, don’t already have, whatever.

So if you wanna know an exact item, I’m cool with that. But it doesn’t stop there … all the grandparents then just say … “OK well just go ahead and order it and let me know how much I owe you.”

Let me get this straight … I come up with the item. Then I go buy it. Then I wrap it. And then the card says it’s from you?

Why you gettin’ all the credit? I did all the work!

Now I know how Santa’s elves feel! They bust their litte butts in that workshop all year long, and then their boss takes all the credit for the presents.

And not only that … everybody is on my back right away …

“I need to know what to get the kids, I want to get my shopping done right away!”

So by the time I dole out a bunch of stuff from the kids’ Christmas lists to grandma, grandpa, Santa, I realize that Mommy and Daddy are then left with the scraps.

“Geez … Mom and Dad sure did cheap out on the gifts.”

You stole all the good ones! That I bought in the first place, and you took all the credit for!

Oh and they gotta have all their lists right away, but when you ask THEM what they want, so you can get YOUR shopping done too, all you get in return is …

“Oh you know … whatever. Surprise me! I love everything!”

You do NOT love everything, you liar! I know this for a fact because every time you come visit you’re complaining about something, which clearly does not sound like somebody who loves everything. So don’t tell me you love everything.

But Diary … I get it … ultimately it’s all about the kids and the joy in their little faces when they get those presents they want soooo bad. On the down-side, all my son wants this year is LEGOs … tons and tons of LEGOs.

So you know what that means? Daddy is gonna have a LOT of work to do on Christmas afternoon putting together set after set of LEGOs, which I’m sure will then be taken apart and all the pieces will be mixed up and missing by New Years.

Yes … clearly it’s about the children, cuz I’m gonna be busy weeping in the corner at my lost LEGO comrades. Why was the Kraggle considered such a bad thing in “The LEGO Movie” anyway? It’s the only thing that saves these precious (and expensive) LEGO sets!

Oh yeah … the Dad in the movie is supposed to be the bad guy because he DARES krazy glue all the LEGO sets together. He’s the ONLY one preserving all the money that was spent!

I’m a fan of the Kraggle. If there was some way to just dip the sets in and … BOOM … frozen in time? I’m on it!

So yeah … Happy Holidays!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Stranded and Abandoned

Dear Diary …

There are times in your life where you are vulnerable, and you need someone to be there for you. To support you through the tough times and carry you through to the other side. And in most cases, you would think that the people you can rely on the most in the world during these times would be your family.

Through thick and thin … they will have your back and be there for you. Well … that’s a lie.

Because Diary … during MY time of need. My family abandoned me. And they were right there in the house, and yet still managed to leave me stranded. On the toilet. Without any toilet paper.

That is the WORST!

And yes, in a perfect world, I would’ve checked ahead of time and made sure I had the necessary supplies for my journey, but there was a sense of urgency to this … “situation” … and I didn’t have time to check.

OK … that’s not entirely true. I did in my head think to look at the current toilet paper situation, and realized it was low, but then I quickly assessed that “poop my pants” was a realistic option that was gonna happen if I waited any longer, so I threw caution to the wind and thought … “My family will rescue me!”

Now my wife is downstairs … I know this because I was just there. And she was reading a magazine. Which is a very noble cause, but also something that I would classify as “not that busy.” So thankfully I have my phone with me, because … you know … Toilet Candy Crush. So I send her a text, “Hey can you bring me some toilet paper please?”

[[NOTHING]]

No response. No little text bubbles letting me know “I read this and I’m responding.” No pitter patter of little feet on the stairs to bring me my fresh roll. Nothin’

So I call.

Voicemail.

So I call.

Voicemail.

So I call.

Voicemail.

OK … failure declared on that one. In her defense, the vows did cover “richer or poorer” and “in sickness and in health,” but never said anything about “toilet paper over magazine,” so I see where her allegiance lies.

So I then move to plan B … my daughter.

She’s even in her room, which is on the same floor as me. But unfortunately, I know this, because I can also hear Meghan Trainor blaring from her room. Kids don’t listen to adult words anyway, but throw in some music or an iPad from them and you can forget it.

So here I am … like an idiot … full on yelling …

“Need some help in here!”

No response!

Call the wife again … voicemail.

That’s it. I’m stranded. This is my new life. Just a king on his throne. Deserted by all his subjects. Never to be heard from again until of course the Wi-Fi isn’t working properly … oh you can be rest assured they’ll hunt down my bathroom body down to let me know!

“Can you fix it?”

Get out of here!

So just remember everyone … in your time of need … when you truly need help … don’t bother calling on your family. Cuz they don’t care.

Lesson learned.

Till next time Diary … I say …. Goodbye

Power Nap Crap

Dear Diary …

We get lied to all the time in this world … especially with promises like “Here’s the miracle diet,” or “Here’s the secret to living to be a hundred years old” … things like that. They sound good in theory, but ultimately nobody knows what they’re talking about and they’re pretty much full of it.

Like this one … the concept of The Power Nap.

On paper … it sounds like a great idea … You just need to take a quick 15 minute nap and you will feel totally refreshed. In fact, it’ll be even more refreshing than a longer nap because your body doesn’t fall into a deep sleep.

OK … that all SOUNDS great … but have you ever tried to actually take a power nap? It’s impossible!

And maybe YOU can magically pull it off in your world, but for me, here’s what happens …

I lay down. And since this is only a 15 minute nap, I obviously gotta set an alarm. So I set it for 15 minutes.

And immediately my brain says …

“OK gotta fall asleep right away we only have 15 minutes better hurry up or we aren’t going to be able to fall asleep and get the 15 minutes and now it’s 14 minutes and we’re running out time and we need to fall asleep and now it’s 13 minutes and maybe I should reset the alarm for another two minutes back or it’s not going to be an appropriate power nap and not I’m gonna get enough of the nap and I don’t know what to do and now it’s 12 minutes … I can’t sleep!”

This is not relaxing!

And even if I do manage to fall right to sleep, you know what happens when my alarm goes off 15 minutes later? I want MORE!

I don’t springeth from my slumber all rejuvinated and ready to tackle the rest of the day. My body says …

“Hey that was awesome … gimme like four more of those!”

And then I’m out cold, no alarm to save me, and I wake up an hour and a half later in the foggy cloud of nap brain.

Thanks a lot power nap! You don’t work at ALL!

Moving on Diary … Here’s a phrase I’d like banned, and then erased from the English language so it can never be found again … “Remind me.”

Oh I hate that phrase. Because it’s abused by lazy people that don’t want accept responsibility for anything in their lives.

“Oh remind me so I don’t forget.”

NO!

YOU remind you!

Because I know what you’re doing …. You’re saying “I’m going to forget. And the only way I’m going to do the thing that I’m supposed to do is if YOU follow up.”

So why is it now my responsibility to remind you? Who reminds ME to remind YOU? So if I can remember, you can remember.

And furthermore … we all got phones now that have a little thing in them called “reminders.” So if you need somebody to remind you, then you tell your robot slave to do it, that’s what she’s there for!

Or here’s a crazy idea … take responsibility for once in your life and do what you’re supposed to do without being told a second time.

Till next time Diary .. I say … Goodbye

Fantasy Football Stinks

Dear Diary …

It occurred to me over the weekend while watching football that fantasy football (and really fantasy sports of any kind), are totally ruining everything. And to be clear, I am a participant in them. Lots of them.

But as I sat there on a Sunday afternoon, one where I should just be gloriously celebrating the fact that my team, the Patriots, is destroying their opponent, I’m not. I’m mad. Because some idiot on some other team is suckin’, and that’s making my fantasy team suck.

So now I’m in a bad mood … and let’s all be honest with ourselves here … I’m in a bad mood about something that absolutely doesn’t matter one shred in the grand scheme of life. Why am I doing this to myself? And this is coming from somebody who often WINS … money. But is it really worth it if that’s how I going to feel on a Sunday afternoon?

Feelings of anger and sadness? Those are feelings for work days. Not weekends. But sports is ruining that.

Oh man … I look at my friends that don’t really follow sports .. and yes … I do think they’re kind of weird. But then they also get to live in this blissfully ignorant world where the behaviors of a bunch of millionaires on a field doesn’t affect them one way or the other. I’m startin’ to think that these doofuses have the right idea.

Was that a compliment?

Not really?

Oh well.

Moving on Diary … I could spend pretty much every entry for the rest of my life letting you know what’s wrong with social media, but today I will narrow it down to just one thing … Complaining about customer service.

Why do you people think that’s a good idea?

The other day … I ordered food. And I won’t say from where, but I will say that it was FAR below the success that they typically deliver.

And immediately one of my friends says, “What you need to do is go blow them up on social media!”

Ummmm … No! No I do not need to go do that! I’m not going to your ranty little cesspool of a website to complain!

“Ohhhh but everybody needs to know the TRUTH!”

You be quiet right now.

Here’s how adults handle this situation. You contact the place of business, with human words and voices, either in person or on a phone. You explain the situation … nicely … and then the situation gets fixed. THAT’S how it gets done!

Blabbing you whole story on Facebook is accusatory, doesn’t give the business a chance to make things right before you try to publicly shame them, and … is BORING!

Seriously the only thing more boring than listening to people complain about their fantasy football teams in a league that you don’t play in, is listening to people complain about their customer service experiences on social media.

“Oh and then they said this and they didn’t get it right.”

Don’t care! Your problem … not mine.

And who is this “they” that people always speak of? That’s all I ever hear … “They messed up my order. They didn’t call me back. They missed the time they were supposed to show up.”

Like there’s some secret government organization … “The Theys” … and they sit there and plot to themselves … “Hey how can we screw over Karen today when she orders her lunch? The Theys strike again!”

Quit your whining people. It doesn’t accomplish anything, and none of us wanna hear about it anyway.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The World Needs a Charger

Dear Diary …

With the announcement of the new iPhone last week, there were a bunch of new features, but the message that stands out above all else is this … now there’s one more thing we need a charger for. Headphones … you know … with a cord … you just plug ‘em in and you’re done. Wireless headphones … well those need a battery and now you gotta charge ‘em.’

And this isn’t “Dump on the iPhone Time” … let me be clear … I bought one. I’m excited.

This is a growing just trend throughout the world … everything needs a charger.

Phone. Charger.

iPad. Charger.

Watch. Charger.

Speakers. Charger.

Heck I saw a pair of SHOES the other day that lit up on the bottom. And guess what? You gotta plug ‘em into your computer to charge ‘em. Everything needs a charger.

And this is my nightmare, because my life is totally ruled by battery power. I’m obsessed with it, and I stress out about it when I don’t have it.

“Oh my God, I’m at 83% and it’s only 8:30 in the morning, how am I gonna make it thru the day?”

“Oh my God, I got 37% and it’s 5pm and I gotta go out tonight and how am I gonna make it thru the night?” AHHHH!!!!

This is my brain all the time now. They say people check their phones 100 times a day, and I totally do. But it isn’t to check for texts or emails, I don’t care about you people, it’s simply to see how much battery percentage I have left.

And at least on my phone, there’s a little number that tells me.. On these smaller things like speakers and headphones …. There ain’t no percent bar for me to even look at, and now I just gotta sit there and worry …

“Oh my God, I think I listened for 45 minutes today, do I have enough to make it thru one more trip the gym?”

And don’t you gimme this “Just charge it more often” … I got 247 things plugged in … I ain’t go no more outlets! My shoes are charging for crying out loud!

And furthermore, these stupid batteries start crappin’ out on ya if you charge ‘em too often. My son has a tablet. Used to last 6 hours. Now it’s two and a half. Diary … that’s three and a half more hours a day I’m expected to parent him! [[Ugh]]

Hey I like all the wireless technology … I’m all for it. We just need to invent a battery that never goes dead. Like ever. I don’t think that’s too much to ask!

OK moving on Diary … Let me call this section “Things That Shouldn’t Exist Because They Are Dumb and Useless.”

Battery that never goes dead … we need that.

Fine point pens on the other hand … NEVER should exist.

Nobody needs these things … they are too pointy and rippy on your paper, and they leave all those ugly ink globules all over the place too. They shouldn’t even be allowed to sell ‘em.

Same goes for a medium firmness toothbrush. What kind of robot metal mouth can even stand to use those gum rippers? Also, no dentist in my life has ever recommended them. This ain’t like four out of five dentists recommending Trident … It’s ALL of them. They all recommend SOFT. So why does medium even exist?

If they don’t work right and nobody should use them … nobody should be allowed to sell them either. Just about every plumber on Earth will tell you to basically never put anything down your garbage disposal because it will eventually just clog the drain. So again, garbage disposal people … either make one that works, you don’t exist anymore. End of story!

Till next time Diary, I say goodbye.

The Poop Partner

Dear Diary …

Do you ever have those moments in your life where you are convinced that you are being set up, and that somehow, somewhere people are watching you and just laughing away?

Here’s what I mean by that … like I feel as if every day of my life my wife plays a game with me called “Hide the Remote.”

We got three remotes in the living room, and every day when I came home from work … one of ‘em is missing. Different one every day … sometimes it’s the little white one. Next day it’s the big white one. Day three it’ll be the black one. The one thing that remains consistent, is that one of them is missing.

I think I’m gettin’ set up here, because every day I’m on my hands and knees like an idiot … looking under couches … digging through seat cushions … generally just wandering around like a lost little moron. So I’m convinced … there’s a hidden nanny cam somewhere in that room, and my wife is watchin’ me and havin’ a laugh!

There’s no reason for a remote to be lost every day. I mean the remote sits in one place … on the table next to the couch. You pick it up to use it, and then you put it back down when you’re done. There’s is never a time where it should be in a basket in the corner of the room under a pillow unless it’s put there on purpose!

That’s it … I’m just gonna have to rip the heads off all the kids’ stuffed animals until I find the hidden camera! You made me do this!

OK … moving on Diary … this is definitely going to fall under the category of “diva behavior,” but I don’t care, because I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we as humans all agree that we should never be “poop partners.”

When I’m in the bathroom at work … there are two stalls … and there is nothing worse than being in there and minding your own business and then having somebody come into that bathroom, plop down into the stall next to you, and immediately become your poop partner.

What we are doing is gross. It should NEVER be in the company of others, and yet now we are only separated by about six inches and a thin plastic barrier. I don’t like this one bit!

And I know you’re saying … it’s a public restroom and there are two stalls, but I don’t care. Nobody under their own free will should actually use that second stall when the first is occupied unless it’s DIRE emergency!

If I walk into the bathroom and see a pair of feet … I turn around and come back later when they’re gone. I refuse to be your poop partner!

But these people got no filter. They also got no volume control. Good Lord … there’s another pair of shoes here next to you, I don’t need to hear all your awful sound effects. If you’re gonna force yourself on me like this, you gotta at least keep it down man. This is already an awful experience, now you’re just making it WAY worse!

It’s called “dignity,” can we at least preserve it a tiny bit here?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Beach Stinks

Dear Diary …

So I’m fresh off vacation right now. OK … “fresh” isn’t the word … because I’m tired, man. Real life happens too early in the morning!

I always think that’s the dumbest question when you go back to work after vacation … “So … do you feel all refreshed and relaxed?”

No! Actually, I’m totally not relaxed because I got like two weeks of work to do this week to make up for my lazy loungin’ butt last week.

Refreshed? You know when I felt refreshed? The first day of vacation … ahhh … very far away from work. THAT is when it’s relaxing!

Anyway … I went to the beach. Which … let’s be honest … is totally overrated.

Now don’t get me wrong … I like the beach vacation. I just don’t like the actual “beach” portion of it.

I like being near the beach. I like being able to see and smell the beach … but actually GOING to the beach? Meh.

Cuz when you’re on a trip with several other couples, and seven total children … that’s a TON of crap to lug to the beach. Every kid’s gotta have a bucket. Every kid’s gotta have a boogie board. Every kid needs 257 snacks … and a chair … and a life jacket … and a canopy for shade. On and on and on.

And that’s not even the worst part about the beach … the worst part is very simple … SAND.

That stuff is everywhere and it’s gross.

It gets stuck all over your body, and [[pfft pfft]] every time the wind blows it goes in your mouth. In your hair … on your towel … everywhere!

I don’t know who in their right mind would EVER think it’s romantic to mash potatoes at the beach. You can’t keep the sand out when you’re just sittin’ there … and now you’re jammin’ things into things? SAND! Everywhere sand! Not romantic!!!!

Oh … and here’s another screwgee when it comes to the beach … sunblock. Specifically the spray sunblock that we all use now.

First of all, let me just applaud the genius at the sunblock company who came up with this stuff. They managed to capitalize on a society that’s so lazy that we simply cannot be bothered to rub a little lotion on our bodies, and instead need it in a quick to use spray can. And by doing that, they managed to figure out a way to charge twice as much money for half as much sunblock … and we’re all eatin’ up like crazy.

And I know what you’re saying, “Oh but is SO easy and convenient!”

Yes … that is very true. But it’s also very easy to totally miss parts of your body because you’re just quickly [[psshhhhhhtt]]] … there I’m all done!

But you’re not. And you know how I’ know this? Because I fried the heck outta my shoulders on day one at the beach. Totally missed em with the spray.

Then I get home and realize my shoulders look like some sort of Native American warpaint with these two giant painful strips of red on ‘em. Thanks spray sunblock!

So yeah … I’m totally refreshed and relaxed from vacation!!! Can’t ya tell?????

Till next time Diary, I say … Goodbye.

Women and Their Batteries

Dear Diary …

Women are odd creatures. I understand very little about them. Also, they are all very different creatures too.

One woman says, “Flowers are the most romantic thing a man can do as a little thing just to say I love you.” Meanwhile, the woman next to her will say, “Flowers are stupid. They just die. If my man gets me flowers, he’s an idiot.”

So basically as men, we’re screwed. We’re never gonna get it right. One woman says, “I just wish he would share his advice with me more often.” While the other says, “Shut up with your opinion, oppressor!”

Now that said, one thing they DO all have in common … no woman I know has a cell phone with more than 17% battery on it at any given time. I’m not ever sure if their phones go up to 100% to begin with!

I recently went on a family road trip, and as we started the drive one day my wife immediately said, “Oh my phone’s about to die … I gotta charge it.” This was first thing in the morning. Why did you not charge it last night? How does that even happen?

I was at an event last week … met a woman working the event and she says … “Ooooh … let’s take a selfie!” And I can see on that screen as we’re doing the selfie … 14%. 14! You just got here! How have you planned SO poorly for this?

“My phone’s about to die” … I can’t remember the last time I heard a man say that in my presence. I mean … Hmmm … if only there was a way to plug that phone into electricity and give it more power so it wouldn’t die all the time. Hmmmmmmmm

OK … Moving on Diary … manners are important. And as a parent, I of course try to teach that to my kids. Say please and thank you, be polite, all that stuff. And they do that … mostly … but the problem is that kids don’t actually understand the correct usage of the word “please.”

The correct usage is in the form of a question … like “Can I please have something to eat?” You ask that, and then you receive an answer that could go either way.

To them, the word “please” is an automatic guarantee of a yes answer.

“Can I have cake for dinner?”

No. No you can’t.

“Please”

No. The answer is still no.

“Pretty please?”

No!

“I SAID PLEASE!!!”

Look I don’t care if you said please. And I don’t care if you say “please please please please please” Which they like to do like waterboarding torture on your forehead… That doesn’t guarantee the yes answer.

I say “please leave me alone,” and you don’t do that. See?

“Please?” is a question … not a mandate you little rugrat.

Till next time Diary … I say goodbye.