Diary of a MotherFucker

Its 1am, & surprise! I'm still awake.

I'm hungry, I have itchy feet & somehow my bedroom smells like a shit diaper, despite my checking the baby's pants.

So here I sit, eating the snack of champions- a banana with peanut butter. No, not a sandwich. Take the banana, peel it, smear it with a spoonful of the gift from the peanut gods, enjoy. Its the closest thing I have in the house as something 'sweet' to eat. Unfortunately the shitty Easter chocolate isn't even enough to take the edge off. Plus, this peanut butter is FABULOUS! The Natural Jif [& you don't have to stir!] is so delicious, I savor every spoonful. yuuuuummmmmmm. <--There was a free plug, if ever there needed to be one.--> Oh yea. Need I mention, I just polished off the jar? There was 2, maybe 3 heaping tablespoons left at the bottom and if you scraped down the sides. This shit doesn't last in my house. I need, like, a 50 gallon drum. Perhaps that would last a month. Or two.

Actually, the snack-o-champions used to be in my regimen of 'brain food' that I'd eat late at night [sense a theme here?] while I was in college, doing my homework after the hubby & kids went to bed. Up until 2am to write a paper? No problem! Have some peanut butter. Hell, have a peanut butter & banana sandwich. Oooh, how about some dried cherries on that? And honey? Awesome!!! Sweet, just found the chocolate chips- better add a few...

The itchy feet I blame on bad shoes, mosquitos, and my desperate need for a pedicure. The last time I went to get one, it was for my sister in law's bachelorette evening- over 2 years ago. My feet are so abused- bad shoes, barefoot the minute its warm enough, no regular pedi's or even filing of the dead skin... seriously its icky. And I'm telling you about this because...? In hopes you'll buy one of my paintings so I can get this shit taken care of. And maybe find that 50 gal vat o'peanut butter. That I don't have to stir.

Speaking of shit, I'm going to say for tonight/thisearlymorning that Jack farted & he just stank up the room. That's right. I'm blaming the baby. He's just as bad as his father. So indirectly I blame fredward. Its his fault our kid is so stanky. Its his fault because I've never heard of any other person WHO CAN WAKE THEIR SPOUSE FROM A DEAD SLEEP BECAUSE OF THE STENCH COMING FROM HIS ASS. As he giggles into his pillow... :fucker:.

In the morning, I'll tear the room up.