I'm broke. My feet hurt. And that chica's trippin'--Ice Cube

In the words of Homer Simpson, "Kids, we're going out. The TV's in charge. Do what it says." In unrelated news today, it's amazing how I now know the entire weekday lineup of Cartoon Network. Sometimes, I get mad if THA KID changes the channel when I'm in the middle of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends or Camp Lazlo. Alright, not sometimes.

Did you know that an aphid, which is a plant louse, is born pregnant? Interesting fact on Askmen.com. (No, I didn't forget the link; if you could pull yourself away from work deadlines to peruse this nonsense, you can cut and paste.)

Okay, so I really need to get out of the house. Why does daddy get to have all the fun?? We don't live together, obviously, or I'd be hanging out with adults right now. I haven't had much reason to get my hair "did" and I've been positively DYING to try a new fro do. Instead, I wear it in two tucked-in pigtails and haven't washed it in maybe 3 weeks. (No, people, I'm not that nasty; some hair does not generally take to daily washes in the showers. Just once a week.) At least, I've graduated from sweatpants with the ink stain where my ass should go to jeans.

Do you think THA KID would notice if I stepped out for a few hours? I mean, he can bathe all by himself now. I really need to teach him to dial the carry-out just in case I have to step out. Yes, I know. I'm a horrible mother. But when you've been housebound like I've been, you realize that kids should come wired with certain basic skills like dialling Panda Express and figuring out the tip--I'm just sayin'! Okay, I am a bad mother. Guess I'll redeem my black soul by sitting here and watching more Murder, She Wrote, though even that's getting old. Oh, 80's "sophistication." Hmm, oxymoron. Why did they wear those shapeless dresses? And the tapered pants with the pleats?? AND WHY, O WHY, WERE THE MEN'S SUITS SO DAMN SNUG???? I feel a headache coming on. Well, one timeless fashion accessory: multiple gold bangles. I'm not that into gold--I feel myself slowly crossing over to the dark side, though--but those babies are still hot today. Every woman should have that Wonder Woman thing going on.

Had the flu this past week. In the throes of the pain, congestion, and general crankiness, I decided to test Mr. I Can't Give You What You Need. "If you had any decency, you'd kill me now," I said. I swear I saw a twinkle in his left eye.

THA KID is yelling again. Not helping my 80’s-induced headache.

Ah, my unfinanced shoe/purse obsession. If only I could indulge right now. Life wouldn’t be so bad. Life’s great as long as you got sexy shoes. I swear I'm hitting the mall with my next paycheck….right after I mail the daycare check. (I loooovvvee that AmEx commercial about the girl who, graciously receives a commercial intended for her twin girls, says, “Aren’t they adorable? I’ve got a pair in lime green too.” She’s my idol of the week.) But I fear being housebound has made me forget how to walk in heels. I’m gonna start walking around the house in three inches, just in case I get to get back in the game. After all, I was in sneakers last time I went out, although I did feel good about it, letting all the little girls fall over themselves trying to look cute in four inches in the cold. God, I hate it when it shows how hard a girl's trying to look cute. Hence, my lip-gloss-only philosophy—look hot but not bothered. Ah, the wisdom that comes with age. I've finally concluded that I may be shallow. Just a smidgen.

I swear I was about to pop that little girl in the eye she crinkled up to look at me funny. Is it just me or am I getting more paranoid these days? I’m sure I am, but this chica almost made me take off one shoe and smack her. And that over-processed weave--yeah, in my perm days, I wore them, but they looked GOOD!--made me just wanna pull out her tracks one by one.

Is this the example I'm setting for THA KID? Thank the Lord I don't have daughters.

Blogging is therapeutic; THA KID is jumping all over the furniture with that sinister "I dare ya" smirk and I'm actually calm. I swear he's trying to drive me crazy. He bottles up the buckwild until he gets back from weekend @ dad's, so daddy doesn't really know how out of control he could be. Well, I guess it could be worse. He could be yelling, "Two for five! Yo, I got two for five!" on the corner to the neighborhood geriatrics. (Alright, no more two for five references.)

Gotta go make pancakes for THA KID's dinner. Don't as why I volunteered.