I just couldn't take it anymore. I put up with it for three, very long months. It was driving me friggin' crazy... or I should say crazier. I shaved the Van Dyke off. It's good to be back to looking like an old, crackhead Charlie Brown.
New all fruit-and-vegetable diet has caused me to have intense prayer vigil in the bathroom; asking God to please make it stop. Oh dear God, pleeeeease make it stop.
This is what I posted on Facebook: For his birthday, today (March 3), Jon (age 12)wanted to rent Paranormal Activity 3. Monique and I aren't big fans of horror movies. I refused to watch it, so I'm in the other room with the door closed. While reading, I just heard Monique scream so loud that our dog, Pete, woke up with a what-the-fuck look on his face. Monique is a very smart woman, but apparently not today. Guaranteed she's not going to sleep well tonight. Maybe when she eventually falls asleep, I'll grab her arm and yell, "BLAH!!" Divorce proceedings will soon follow.
Lori, one of my Facebook friends, responded: Chickenshits.
My reply: Damn right. Just tell us where to lay our eggs.
Last night, I had a nightmare. It caused me to toss and turn and eventually wake up. In the dream, I was reading a book and it developed an ugly crease in its binding. That's it. That was my nightmare. Sweet Jesus, I'm a prime candidate for a lobotomy.
I just couldn't take it anymore. I put up with it for three, very long months. It was driving me friggin' crazy... or I should say crazier. I shaved the Van Dyke off. It's good to be back to looking like an old, crackhead Charlie Brown.
