If I survive till the children’s adulthood, it will be a miracle. I think I will want a medal or something. I have to tell you, this having babies business is false advertising. You think it will be 50% lovies, cuddles, and cuteness and 50% crying and whining. Nobody ever warns you that a teenager can go medieval over not being allowed to bring her curling iron to school. Of course, if you strained, you could probably remember a similar type of rage when you were a kid, but now that you’re all grown up, you know you couldn’t have been that bad.
Somebody has gotten themselves 48 hours of grounding and it’s not even 9:00 am on a Monday yet. I shudder to think what the rest of the week will look like.
On a side note, I somehow managed to hurt my back. It’s my low back and it only hurts when I bend down slightly. I have no idea how I’ve done it, but putting clothes on is an interesting experience, let me tell you. Gordon did take pity on me and put Icy Hot on it, but not before making fun of me. So turn about is fair play, no?
Star Wars Online
Gordon, in a shape of a blue alien Imperial Agent with impeccable manners: I have to turn in this quest.
Gordon running up to an identical blue alien in the same exact uniform.
Me: Oh, look, it’s your twin.
Gordon: You’re crazy.
Gordon: What the hell? We don’t look the same at all.
Me: Same hair color, same features…
Gordon: … Look at my cheekbones! We’re not even the same shade.
Me, dying of laughter: I’m sorry, did you just tell me to look at your cheek bones?
Gordon: My features are much sharper.
Me: Sure they are. My mistake… bwahahahahaha!
Gordon: You’re racist again blue aliens.
Gordon: We all look alike to you, bounty hunter humans, don’t we?