Well, if you ever question whether or not you're doing a good job as a parent, just watch "The Squid and the Whale." I just did, and holy crapfuck -- nice family. A pre-adolescent sticking cashews up his nose, drinking beer in his room alone and wiping spunk on books in the library?! I didn't do that kinda shit until well into high school. Whew! Okay, I don't feel so bad about my parenting now. Holy shnykees.
Had a good day with Miss O, today. Played dinosaurs for awhile, she helped me sharpen the blades on the "Grass Ripper," and then we went to Menards to get some boards. But we didn't get any boards. Why? Because I can't fucking pull the trigger on any sort of home-improvement chore, that's why!
I don't know what it is -- I just needed some 2x6s to build me a raised bed for a vegetable garden I've been thinking of "crafting." But then I get there, and they have like 500 different kinds of boards. Oak? Pine? Cedar?! It's my whole commitment thing again -- "What if I pick the wrong kind of wood?! What if it warps?! I don't know... maybe I should get back online and do more research! I JUST DON'T KNOW!" I'm such a moron.
I think I finally decided to get some of that "fake wood" I've been hearing so much about. Won't warp, won't splinter, lasts forever. I think it's made of the same shit my fake lunchmeat is made of. Hemp, or soy. Of course, they don't have it over at Menards, so I think I actually have to go over to Home Despot, where I vowed to never return again. Word on the street is that they're an evil company. I read this big expose about how all these customers and employees have been maimed or killed at their stores and their attorneys threaten the families and make them settle out of court and shit. Plus they're big old Bush supporters... I hear. I dunno, it's probably bullshit, or, more likely, Menards is just as bad and I just haven't read anything about them yet. But I've decided to boycott the Despot.
I'll probably end up buying the fake wood there... BUT I WON'T BE HAPPY ABOUT IT! I'll show them -- when they ask for my zip code... I WON'T GIVE IT TO THEM! MWAHAHAA! I might even make up a zip code. Completely screw up their database. "What's this?! This zip code doesn't even exist!?!?! Oh my GOD! All of our data has been rendered USELESS!!! CURSE YOU CRABBYDAD!!!!"
If I don't quit dickin' around, though, I'm not going to be harvesting tomatoes until November. Last year, all my 'maters had black spots on them. And by the time I buy all the wood and plants and mulch and shit, each one of my black-spotted tomatoes is going to have cost me like 10 bucks to produce. Worth it.
The shit you find yourself doing to keep a tenuous grasp on reality -- it's fucking ridiculous.
Where's that clip of Miss O laughing? I think I need it again.