My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Welcome to my fresh hell

Fresh hell? God, how trite, overused and decidedly unoriginal! Yeah, welcome to my boring piece of the universe. This diary is intended more to force me to write more often (so I can call myself a writer and not be lying), and to have a record of my children's lives, than it is to entertain the unknown masses. So, if no one reads this, I won't be hurt (at least, I'll lick my wounds in private).

Also, this gives me a place to rant about the stupidity of things without alienating family and friends("Oh god, not another diatribe about leaf blowers.").

In fact, my first complaint is my current situation which involves a cranky 5 week old baby (which I guess I have to keep since the gypsies never returned my calls) who insists on a never-ending cycle of screaming, spitting up (a kind phrase for what she did to me at 1:00am this morning -- so what if I'd already changed the sheets on my bed mere hours ago), and producing copious poo for me to dispose of (ah, where are the Grammar Police?) and generally making it impossible for me to:

* sleep

* use the facilities

* eat

* exist without horrible pain in back, shoulders and neck

* start an online diary

Was that a real sentence?

Why do people have children? I'll admit that, in theory, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But, once you get through the agonies of pregnancy and childbirth and take the tiny nugget home you realize that the universe has played a huge trick on you. And you're STUCK with it! Ha ha ha.

I'm a sucker twice over. I knew exactly what I was getting into but decided, all on my own, with my big stupid brain, and with the permission of my husband, to have ANOTHER one. Is that egg on my face? No, just regurgitated breast milk, thank you very much.

Yes, yes, I love my children and yet they confirm my atheism: I wouldn't want to worship a god who created this mess. Surely there's a better way to continue the human race? It speaks volumes for people who allowed their children to live past the first two months. Either that, or I'm the only one without a full-time nurse on staff.

Okay. I'm done. Carry on.


9:05 a.m. ::
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