Valentine's Day is just around the corner and my kids needed shoe boxes for their Valentine's mailboxes and, since I didn't have any, I was forced to go buy not one, but two pairs of shoes. The horror! But, I must make these sacrifices as a parent. It is the cross I bear.

I bought a handy dandy program in the hope that I will be able to un-fuck my laptop. Two hours later....meh. It is a trifle better, but now my bluetooth doesn't recognized my mouse. Most awesome. I hate technology.

I've always said I didn't turn into a girl until I was 40 and now I think the metamorphosis is accelerating. Not only am I getting teary over tender moments on Phineas and Ferb but I have found I can shower, slap a ball cap over my wet hair and motor out the door, but not before I tint my eyebrows and put on eyeliner and mascara. What. The. Hell. I firmly subscribe to to the theory of "Everything will be fine; just put on some lipstick." I figure by the time I'm 60 I'm going to be like Donna Reed or June Billingsley, vacuuming in my pearls and taffeta cocktail dress at 2 in the afternoon, wondering whatever will I feed Wally and the Beav for a snack after they get home from school? While my unfulfilled potential will be a simmering stew of resentment only restricted from spewing forth in a toxic waste flow by virtue of some serious pharmaceuticals. Not unlike this MST gem:



"Mother and Daughter put the final touches on the dinner...with Strychnine!"