080412 I don't really want to read about chronic constipation. I want to read about something dangerous--I mean, dangerous in a sexy way. Not dangerous in a fungal way. 080712 God I hate when people double click on hyperlinks. 080912 The girls are dancing up and down in the rain while home fries cook and the beta band provides a strange, heavy, funky beat. They laugh with the neighbors. Libby's pink raincoat is beaded with rain. Popcorn and Netflix again, and the butter starts running around the pan, hotly spreading the gossip over the barren venusian landscape, "He's fat! He's fat!" as if anyone cares. That landscape hasn't been mapped since the 80's, and neither have I. *Neither have I.* 081312 I was really irritable today. Twice in the last three days a child has assumed a position of curled up crumpled up retreat. This is horrifying to me. I cannot become a surrogate her. I need help and am seeking it out. 082212 Libby graduated from eel and became a ray. Millie graduated from guppy and became a minnow. Megan graduated from half a minnow and became a minnow. They all have ribbons. This is the way it is supposed to be. 082812 That weepy old cow has now kept them out until 11:00 at night. God fuck it. I'm just supposed to not care? To let her make that decision? Fuck that. Next time, I will specify a return time. Fucking ludicrous. Contemptible disrespect. And, as usual, why the fuck should I be surprised for her utter lack of regard for the girls' well being. Oh but she just loves them so fucking much. Fucking selfish, soft-headed, irrational bag of fucking sod.