Category: Uncategorized

Dear Diary …

Let me start the new year by turning over a new leaf. I will start by APOLOGIZING for something. That’s right. I’ll admit that I was in the wrong. Well … sort of in the wrong.

Actually … you know what? No! It ain’t my fault and I ain’t apologizing for it!

Welp … so much for that whole “new leaf” thing. But hey, my resolution probably lasted longer than some of the people stuck with fancy new exercise equipment (but more on that in a minute).

First … let’s get to that fact that I’m sorry, but I do not apologize … Wait … see? That’s sort of an apology.

Anyway … I am not sorry if I spoil live sports results for you.

And yes … I am aware that this is slightly hypocritical because I hate when people ruin the endings of movies and TV shows for me, but I believe that those things are different. Those are movies and TV shows, so they are stories and experiences that aren’t happening in real time. They’re always available, and you get to watch them on your own schedule.

Sports on the other hand? That stuff is happening live and in real time. And yes, you CAN set a DVR or whatever and watch it later, but it just seems to dopey to me at that point to sit there and pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t already know what’s happened and you could have the result of the game in front of you in two seconds.

So … when you’re my friend and I didn’t realize you watch your sports on delay, and I accidentally tell you that the Hokies lost their Bowl game. Oh well. (Oh … sorry … SPOLIER ALERT even though this was like two weeks ago. Do I still have to say that? I don’t know.)

Do I feel bad? Yeah … kinda. But it ain’t my fault! It’s THEIR fault! This is the risk they have to take if their gonna be all weird and watch live sports on delay. I mean … ain’t nobody saying, “No no no no … don’t tell me what’s on the news … I’m recording it to watch LATER!” Sorry … this is the same thing. (See! Look … that’s an apology too, right? No? OK.)

OK … moving on Diary … back to that whole “wasting money on expensive exercise stuff” that I mentioned before.

As anybody with a pair of eyes and half a sense of awareness can see … this is January and every other ad being shoved in your face is for some kind of gym, diet plan, or exercise equipment. One such piece of equipment is this super expensive and fancy Peloton workout bike.

You know the one I’m talking about … the one with all the commercials where this super fancy bike sits in the most beautiful place in the fanciest house. Windows everywhere … penthouse apartments in big cities … beautiful scenery. Meanwhile a person who’s already in really awesome shape is busy riding the thing and acting all, “Woo! Gettin’ my first workout of my life in!”

Hey … look … I’m all for being healthy and if you wanna buy this super fancy bike … fine. But let’s just be realistic about these ads here for a second … you’re beautiful Peloton bike ain’t gonna be in some million dollar house surrounded by windows and mountains and snowflakes. It’s gonna be in your basement, next to the washing machine, and surrounded by all those old baby toys your kids don’t play with anymore.

It’s gonna sorta smell like cat pee down in there, and it’s gonna have sucky lighting and clouds of dust ploofin’ up into your throat while you’re sucking wind on your fancy expensive Peloton bike. And the whole scenario just stinks.

Now don’t get me wrong … I really do hope that despite all that, you’re gonna be over there crushing your workouts every night in the dark. Or maybe you’ll have a really expensive clothes drying rack in March. That’s on you. But at least come in with a realistic picture of what this is all going to look like.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

We’re getting to the end of the year, so that means many of us are lucky enough to take a little bit of a vacation. I am fortunate enough to one of those people. And yet … I’m still gonna complain about it.

Don’t get me wrong … I am happy for the time off and I am grateful that I get to take it, because I know other people don’t have the same opportunity. That said … I have one problem with all of this … the children.

Cuz they’re … THERE.

Except for ONE day … ONE measly day … the rest of my ENTIRE vacation … those kids are out of school. And when I have time off from work, they are ALWAYS off from school.

And before you say … “You know the school calendar. Just don’t take off the same time as them.”

Yeah … it ain’t that simple. Because even when they are supposed to have school, they end up not having school. I was off last Monday. And what did we get? 15 and a half inches of snow … that’s what!

Last winter I took a week off in March … the kids had four snow days and one delayed day that week. And this happens EVERY time.

Look … I like these kids. I mean … I LOVE these kids. But Daddy also needs some me time. Because when I don’t get me time, I AM NOT FUN DADDY!!!

The biggest problem here is because of my job, I can only take time off in the summer or the winter. I won’t bore you with the details, that’s just the way it is. So the summer (of course) that’s a lost cause because they’ve got nowhere else to be. And in the winter … well … we only really go to school around here for about 27% of the winter. So it’s really hard to try to plan your days off around the weather. And let’s be honest … sometimes the weather doesn’t even matter around here.

“Oh it might be cold in the morning? OK … NO SCHOOL!!”

Ugh. Is it too much for a father to ask to have his children disappear every now and then? And I mean I want ‘em to come back … just disappear AT SCHOOL every now and then.

Moving on Diary … since we’re on the topic of kids … let me just present something to you because I don’t really even know how to deal with this Jedi Mind Control torture my son was putting on me the other day.

You see Diary … he wants to have a playdate. ALL the time. And I’m happy to have these playdates when possible, but he makes a lot of unreasonable and impossible requests like … “I want to have a playdate at …” (You know … insert whatever kid name you want here … we’ll go with Neal … which I understand is not really a kid’s name … but I just think it’s fun to say.)

Anyway … “I want to have a playdate at Neal’s house.”

OK … well … that’s up to NEAL’S parents. I can’t just knock on their door and be like, “Hey, my kid wants to come over. Thanks … bye!”

You gotta ask NEAL these questions. Not me.

But he don’t understand that, and just keeps ridin’ me all the time. “But I wanna go to Neal’s house!” Yeah … well guess what … I want you to go to Neal’s house too, but that ain’t up to me!!

So here’s what happens … he’s sittin’ there the other day … and guess who calls? Neal’s mom! And she wants him to come over!

“Hey … guess what buddy? Neal wants you to come over for a playdate. Whaddya say?”

And you know what he says?

“Hmmmm … let me think about it”

WHAT THE F&@&$&$#~!!!!!

OK, now you’re just screwing with me! I don’t even think he likes these kids, he just wants to mess with my mind!

That’s all I got … no other explanations or observations. Just mental torture.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

 

I get it … whether we like it or not, we are tied to technology more and more every single day of our lives.  And really, you can’t fight it.  I remember back in the day when smartphones first became a thing, and I said “I’m never getting one of those.  I don’t want to be tied to my phone.  I have everything I need with my flip phone.”

 

But now I NEED that thing to get through my day to day life, and in addition to that, when I see someone that still has a flip phone I also assume they have one of those old people walkers with the tennis balls on the end of the poles. Get with the times man!

 

And there’s so many great opportunities thanks to technology.  I mean … you can make a million dollars in your basement on YouTube.  OK … I can’t make a million dollars in my basement on YouTube, but nine year olds totally can.  So bravo for that!

 

Speaking of nine year olds … or kids in general … that’s where part of my rant comes in today.  Our kids are totally tied to technology.  And I’m not even here to complain about that.  It is what it is and I’m just trying to raise them the best I can in this robot world.

 

But what I can complain about is that these kids are surrounded by technology, and they treat ALL of it like crap.  They got no respect for the stuff at all.

 

Every single nine year old on earth says “I want an iPhone.”  Meanwhile … they can’t even keep track of where they left their shoes.  So now I’m expected to pay a thousand dollars for you to have a phone that you will undoubtedly drop, break, lose, spill stuff on and everything in between.

 

“I broke it.   Can I have another one?”

 

You get outta here with this.  At the risk of sounding like some sort of old curmudgeon from a 1970’s sitcom … you kids go get a job in the mines to pay for your little iPhoney-madingles if you want ‘em so badly!

 

Here’s one I can’t stand … so my kids have iPads.  Yeah … I know.  Spoiled.  Look … I lost control of the house years ago.  Don’t judge me.  Pity me.

 

Anyway … it drives me NUTS the way they handle these things … especially when it comes to the cords … charger … headphone … whatever.  They just jam them into the holes as hard as they possibly can, and then YANK ‘em out with reckless abandon as well.  I’ve already had to pull broken headphone jacks out of the holes … not to mention the fact that their charger ports have become these loosey-goosey wobbly little connections that barely hold on.

 

And tell ‘em every day … do NOT  to touch the things, and let me do it.  But do they listen?  No.  “Sorry … I forgot.”

 

And this noise [DING] … has become the bane of my existence.

 

That’s the noise when my son’s charger is plugged in. [DING]

 

And this is noise of when it gets unplugged. [DING]

 

And I know this because he sits there messing with the thing over and over again.  I’ll be downstairs in the living room and he’s up there in his room … [DING] … [DING]

 

Hey stop touching that thing!

 

“I’m not doing anything!”

 

[DING] [DING]

 

Stop it!

 

“What?”

 

[DING] [DING]

 

I swear to you one of these days I’m just going to smash the thing on the ground in a fit of rage so I never have to hear that sound again.

 

Oh who am I kidding?  I’m not gonna do that, because then he’s just going to expect a new one.  And I’m gonna buy it because I’m an idiot.  So whatever … you win.  I lose.  Don’t listen to a word I say.

 

Till next time Diary … [DING] … Oh would you cut it out! … I say [DING] … Sigh … Goodbye

Dear Diary …

Your brain is stupid. I mean … it’s a wonderful, powerful thing and a marvel of science and biology, but it is also stupid. Mainly because it has all these awesome powers, and never lets us actually use any of them. Sure … we can do things like … well … think. And invent … and love … and whatever. But ultimately, our brain is just one big tease about all these other borderline magical powers it’s capable of.

For example … when I drive to work, there is one specific place on the highway where my brain reminds me about all the things that I’ve forgotten to bring to work. It’s the same spot every single time … and it’s a spot that is JUST far enough away from my house that it’s the point of no return and it would take too long to turn around. And it doesn’t matter if before leaving the house I think to myself, “OK … do I have everything?” … I still won’t remember those things until I hit that spot on the highway.

So what we have here is clear proof that there is a way to trigger your brain to remember these things … since it does it at the same spot every time … but your stupid brain refuses to let you control that power.

Here’s another superpower your brain teases you with … you can be minding your own business, going through your day and feeling great. Then … somebody in your office tells you they just got over the stomach bug. And what happens next? You instantly feel like you’re getting the stomach bug. ONE second ago you felt fine, but your brain heard that, and now you feel awful.

So clearly your brain has the power to make you feel terrible … or great … with the flip of a switch. But again … your stupid brain doesn’t give you the ability to use that power. I mean, I genuinely do believe some people can will themselves through serious health battles like cancer … it’s just a question of unlocking that portion of your jerk brain that it does not want to give up.

I mean … c’mon brain … aren’t we in this together? Aren’t we supposed to be a team? Doesn’t YOUR life get better if the rest if the body gets to use the powers? Why are you holding out on us?

How is it that I can’t remember important details or fantastic memories in my life, and yet I still remember every single detail of something pointless and insignificant? My wedding day is a complete blur in my head … I basically remember getting to the church and then the day being over. At the same time … I still know every single word to “The Humpty Dance.” And I can still totally remember the time I accidentally saw my grandmother in her bra. Can’t forget that one! Why, brain, why?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

Why have we become so anti-voicemail? So many people now are, “I don’t check my voicemail, so don’t bother leaving one.” And here’s what I say to you … dude … you’re doin’ it wrong.

Voicemail is great. Why? Because you get to know the person’s mood and intentions … and that way you are totally prepared for whatever happens next.

I mean, even if the person says, “Hey it’s Steve. Call me back.” That could be …

* [HAPPY] Hey … it’s Steve! Call me back!

Or

* [SAD] Hey it’s Steve. Call me back.

Or

* [ANGRY] HEY! It’s Steve! CALL ME BACK!!!”

See? One simple sentence, and yet three different situations. You’re not getting that if Steve merely texts you “call me back,” so why in the world would you want to walk into the lion’s den without some kind of heads up?

“Well I see the missed call. That’s good enough for me.”

Again … you’re nuts!

Personally, I don’t call anyone back who doesn’t leave a voicemail. Missed call? Not good enough for me. You need to state your business so I can be prepared for the conversation. If your boss calls and doesn’t leave a message … you now have no idea if he’s mad at you, happy with you, gonna make you work Saturday, or whatever the heck else.

Don’t you want to know these things? And if not, what kind of sick, sadistic person are you? You like punishing yourself or something?

OK … moving on Diary … since we’re on the topic of phones and phone etiquette … can we please put a stop to unnecessary and excessive speaker phone usage when other people are around?

We don’t care that you’re on the phone with the DMV or your grandma or whatever. And furthermore, that person likely has no idea that you are subjecting them to an audience of random people … so how is that fair to them? What if your grandma wants to tell you a racist joke? I mean geez!!

But seriously … they don’t want to be a part of it … and we don’t want to hear it.

Here’s another one we don’t want to hear … lazy coworkers using voice to text at their desk. “Sheila … don’t forget that tonight we have dinner with the O’Briens. And I will grab milk on my way home.”

Are you kidding me with this? We don’t want to be dragged along to every boring detail of your life. We’re already dealing with every boring detail of our own lives! Type that stuff out with your stumpy little thumbs … it’s probably the closest thing you’re getting to exercise to day anyway there Lazy!!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Dear Diary …

The world is filled with “too much or not enough” … It’s either way more than you need, or not nearly enough.  And yes, we could get into a bigger picture argument about things like wealth distribution and how the super rich don’t need all the money they have while other people are totally broke, but we’re not gonna do that.

You know me Diary … I prefer to complain small.  TINY little annoying things that I like to make a BIG deal about.  And you know what?  I think it’s OK to do that, because these tiny little things could easily be fixed, so I think it’s worth throwing a big ol’ hissy fit about them in hopes that something will actually get done.

I’m never gonna fix the uneven wealth distribution of the world, but windshield wipers?  That one might be possible to pull off.

Here’s what I’m talking about …

Over the weekend it started to rain while I was driving, so I had to use my windshield wipers.  I put them on the first continuous setting, but that one was JUST not quite enough to keep up with the rain.  So I have to click it up to the next setting … the only other setting available on my car.  And that one is … WAY TOO WILD AND CRAZY AND WHIPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!

Now I look like a fool … barrelling down the highway in a relatively normal rain storm, but I LOOK LIKE I’M DRIVING THRU A HURRICANE TRYING TO ESCAPE TO HIGHER GROUND.

Why is there no middle setting?  Why is it too much or not enough?

In your house … if you have a ceiling fan … that fan has three settings:

Setting #1: BARELY moving at all.  To the point that you’re not even sure if you remembered to turn it on

Seting #2:  Spinning around a little bit, but JUST not quite as much air flow as you would like

And …

Setting #3:  WHIPPING AROUND SO HARD IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S GOING TO COME LOOSE AND FLY OFF THE CEILING AND SCALP YOU WITH IT’S BLADES OF DEATH!!!!!!

Why is it always “too much or not enough?”  This should be an easy fix!  Medium, people.  MEDIUM!!!!

Moving on Diary … I think we can all agree … life is too short to be wasting your time on silly things, right?  So when I see them at the store, I think to myself, “Who on this planet actually wants to buy and eat a thin cut steak?”

When you have the option of enjoying a nice, thick, juicy ribeye … seared to perfection on the outside, and perfectly cooked on the inside … why in the world would you instead choose some sad little thin slice of the same steak that you can practically read thru?

If you try to cook that thing correctly on the outside, it’s gonna be shoe leather on the inside.  And if you try to have it be correct on the inside, it’s gonna be an ugly, gray little slab on the outside.  There’s simply no time that’s the right time for this.

And furthermore … this cow died for us.  The least we can do is respect his sacrifice and cut him into wonderful cuts of thick steak instead of flappy little gray wings of sadness.  C’mon!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

We want to help those people, places, and things that need our help … right?  Well, there is something that is under attack right now that is powerless to defend itself.  It is just sitting there … helpless  … and yet it is being abused by the women of the world.  That’s right … this thing is specifically being targeted by the WOMEN of the world that simply will not stop abusing every toilet seat that they can get their ruthless and relentless booties on.

I don’t what is you ladies have against the toilet seat … but whatever it is you are doing makes those things so dang loose in every bathroom you come in contact with.

“Oh whatever … that’s unfair.  We have to sit every time we use the bathroom.”

While that may be true, it still doesn’t mean you gotta be so dang rough.  I sit down on a toilet seat on a regular basis, and you know what I do?  I gently sit down, and then get back up.  Never does the toilet seat move or loosen during this process.

So what are YOU doing, ladies?  Are you sitting down and then swaying yourself in to some sort of toilet seat groove pocket?  That’s what I have to assume because I have been in the ladies room at work … (Yes I have been in the ladies room at work … big whoop) … Point is that toilet seat in there is hanging by the tiniest of threads.  One TINY little tap and that thing is gonna fly right off into the corner of the bathroom.

And it’s not just this isolated incident.  I am CONSTANTLY tightening the toilet seats at my house.  How do they get so loose all the time?  Also … you wanna be all empowered and awesome females?  Then feel free to tighten the screw after you perform all of your booty-inspired seat-loosening activities!

Guys … I tell you what … I think we have become a victim of bathroom slander.  Women have led us to believe that we are the gross ones who always destroy bathrooms.  And when it comes to the smell … yeah well you got us there … but that’s about it.

I tell you this much … I have never seen a half drank Diet Coke in the men’s room, but I see one in the ladies’ room at work at least once a week.

Hmmmmm …

Or how ‘bout this?  When I was in college, there was a guy on my dorm room floor who’s girlfriend would use the bathroom and bring a giant bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in there with her.  I ain’t never seen a dude waltz into a bathroom with a giant bag of sour cream and onion potato chips before.  Just her!

Hmmmmm …

And you can ask just about anybody that’s ever worked in a nightclub which bathroom is grosser by the end of the night.  They’ll tell you the truth.

Hmmmmm …

Hey it’s all good, ladies.  You do you.  Just stop makin’ it seem like we guys are always the ones to blame.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

Without a doubt, the most valuable resource any of us have is our time. OK true, maybe some of you have a fancy pair of Christian Louboutin “Sex In the City” wannabe shoes that are pretty dang expensive, but TIME is something you simply can’t put a price on it.

Start with the cold hard fact above all else … you only have a limited amount of it. And when it’s gone … you’re dead. No do-overs, no pause buttons, no nothin’. When it’s done … it’s done. So when you think of it that way … 1) It makes you wanna curl up in a ball and cry for a minute about how much time you’ve wasted, but then 2) It makes you wanna get out there and make the most of the time you have left.

But here’s the problem … most everybody else in your life works against this and tries to steal your valuable time. Your boss makes you sit through a pointless meeting, your friends sucker you into helping them move on a Saturday, and your children … oh your children … I’m pretty sure it is their main goal in life to screw you out of all of your time.

When I am home with my kids, it is virtually impossible to get anything done efficiently. And it’s not that they demand ALL of your time. Oh no … it’s MUCH more sinister than that. They demand of your time in tiny little inefficient bursts.

As I sit here and try to write this Anger Diary, my children have been asking me for something roughly every six minutes. I’m over here, trying to get into my flow …

“Daddy, can I have a waffle.”

[SIGH] Fine.

OK … waffle made. Back to the flow … let’s get this thing written …

[[[Six minutes later]]]

“Daddy, I’m thirsty. Can you get me lemonade?”

[LOUDER SIGH] FINE!!!

OK … here’s your lemonade … back to the flow ….

“Daddy, can I…..”

WHAT??? WHAT … WHAT … WHAT????

Can you just leave me alone for like 20 stinkin’ minutes so I can get this thing done?

So now here I am … I have earbuds on … trying to drown them out. But I see them … they’re looking at me … and their demanding little mouths are moving. I know they’re asking for stuff … and I’m just over here pretending “I don’t see you” in some sort of hope that they’re gonna get the hint and leave me alone.

And do they ever get the hint? Of course not!

Here’s another colossal time waster with children … when it’s bath time … my kids are always pulling this, “Can somebody come upstairs and sit with me?” garbage.

They don’t need me to help them with their bath. They don’t even want me in the bathroom with them to talk to them. All they want is for me to sit out in the hallway and wait for them to be done. No interaction. No talking or anything. Just them privately taking their bath, while I wait outside the door like some sort of loser butler … “Your towel sir.”

So really all I’m doing is wasting time … precious valuable time.

Oh OK … and it looks like I gotta go because one of them won’t stop mouthing something to me and I’m going to finally have to acknowledge their existence.

So … Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

Common sense. This should be an easy one. We should all have it. But obviously … we do not.

Now I could spend the next month talking about all the ways we lack common sense, but I only got like four minutes, so let’s narrow it down to some food-related stuff … specifically when we are at restaurants.

First … to the restaurants … can we get a little more common sense when it comes to appetizers? Now, I understand that this is just an appetizer … something to start off the meal with a little munch munch munch … and then on to the main course. But … is it too much to ask to have an even number of things on the plate?

I’m sick and tired of going to a restaurant, ordering an appetizer, and getting five items on a plate. What the heck you gonna do with five of anything? If there’s two of you … there’s one left over. And if there’s three of you … now you’re one short. Now we gotta sit here like idiots trying to figure out what to do with these things.

“Hey is this one yours?”

“I don’t know … how many have you had?”

“You just go ahead and take it. It’s fine.”

“No. You do it. I insist.”

Ugh! Just put six on the plate and we don’t have this problem. Common sense people … this should be easy!

Here’s another one … if you’re a restaurant that serves bread before the meal, there is no reason why any of you should serve it alongside cold, impossible to spread, bread-ripping butter. Who the heck wants that? Room temp butter … Soft and spreadable. This should be a no-brainer!

OK … on to you … the diner. When I go out to eat and I look at the menu, I often think to myself, “who in their right mind orders this particular entree?”

Like when you’re at an awesome steakhouse … what do you think you should order? If you answered “steak,” then you are able to state the obvious. And yet, there it is … on every steakhouse menu … some sad entree of grilled boneless skinless chicken breast with something like teriyaki sauce and a boring mixed vegetable.

Who orders that? OK … I get it … not everybody likes steak … but there’s gotta be SOMETHING else you can order that doesn’t scream “boring Tuesday dinner at home when you’re on a diet.”

That’s like going to a restaurant and saying … “Yes, I believe I will have a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken from the deli. Oh … and do you have a bottle of store bought barbecue sauce that I could use to dip it in?”

You’re in a restaurant. Take advantage of that fact and let them make you something that you can’t really make at home. And then the kick on the teeth is that these are the same people that at the end of their meal say, “Ehhhh … that dinner was only OK.” Gee … who’s fault is that???

You ordered boring. And the restaurant delivered boring. Don’t get mad at them for delivering the lousy thing you ordered.

Common sense, people … This is not rocket science around here!!!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

I’ve never really been one of those people that freaks out over the sounds of other people chewing and swallowing or whatever. Then I had children. And I am relatively confident that these children are out to destroy me, or at least weaken me mentally to a place where I will give in to their every whim and demand.

Like I said … those noises never used to bother me, but my children have figured out a way to do them as LOUDLY as humanly possible. I don’t know how my son manages to make Cheez-Its sound so loud, but it is [[[CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH]]] and it feels like it is directly inside my soul.

I swear that kids edges closer and closer and closer to me on the couch, like he’s trying to eat directly into my ear. [[[CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH]]] Ahhh … stop it!!

And my daughter, she’s no better. I’m just in the living room … minding my own business … and she sits down RIGHT next to me with a can of soda and starts [[[SIP SIP SIP]]]

OK … you’ve GOTTA be doing that one on purpose! Nobody slurps a soda can that loud without doing it on purpose!!! And why you gotta be so close to my head???

I’m over here trying to concentrate … writing stuff for work … and [[[SIP SIP SIP]]] is driving directly into my skull.

And I know why they do this … because when I’ve finally reached my limit of the torture, I just say “Hey kids … why don’t you go downstairs and play video games all afternoon?”

“Sure thing Dad!”

Oh and let me just throw in one additional gripe. I usually get home from work a little bit before I have to get the kids off the bus. So when I get home I …. AHHHHHH … finally take a well-earned seat on the couch. Mmmmm … so nice.

But when I go get the kids, my son runs down the street, gets in the house first, and plops down RIGHT in MY spot … right in the middle of the couch. “I want Goldfish and milk please.” Oh you think so? And if it ain’t him, it’s one of the dogs. All you creatures get outta my spot!!!!

And even if I manage to shove my son off to the edge of the couch so I can at least sit there too, he’s just over there [[[CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH]]] throwing down Goldfish and dropping a bunch of farts in the process. Ugh … kids are so gross. How can they even stand themselves?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.