ain't no thing like a chicken wing

This is going to be the failblog if I don't kick it up.

I had to attend a Neil Diamond concert last night, because I am sweet-tempered and without vice, and therefore couldn't make someone go alone. It could have been worse; it could have been John Tesh.

My dad keeps telling Mom that she's a bad mother, and I am too old and tired for damage control at this point. I think he told her to move back or he wants a divorce (five years later), so I told her to find a job up here. She and I can get an apartment. WOOOOOOO!

I have chocolate mud mask on my face, and it feels like someone threw a pudding pie at me. SPLUT! as the kids say. Punker is taking adolescent psych this fall; I wonder if we can get retroactive therapy. I will admit that I totally superimposed the Lime Girls on that stage over Neil Diamond.

My child is here. Her tail is in my face. I hope she likes pudding.