OMFG, emphasis on the F

So the kids are whining at me all day for one thing or another. Their either hungrier than African orphans, or they desperately need their video game fix. But not the three or four video game systems currently available to them, nooooo... They want the one they are not allowed to have because they've become overly obsessed girlfriend about it.

Needless to say, it's not been a peaceful, zen inducing day. But I finally cave, because at five pm, it is finally cool enough to go outside and not drown in your own boob sweat while sinking in your swamp ass. But then apparently, poltergeists or aliens or someone about to get the piss beat out of them by Liam Neeson have come around and kidnapped everyone on our street because no one can play, no one is home, and this is clearly the start of the apocalypse. Or at least the apocalypse according to kids. Maybe that should be the name of my blog???

Okay, so whatever, whine your asses off, you've been doing it all day, what else is new? Run on sentence anyone? But then the girl comes back and after much tantruming and phone calling and get-the-crap-out-of-my-face-ing, I tell the kids to get the crap out of my face go to the purple park with their friends and the nanny. They were supposed to go to the friend's house, but not them. They're efficient, they just went to the park, came back crying and yelling and whining because no one was there. I tell them to stop crying right NOW!!!! And to go to friend's house. They seriously don't make it out of our yard before all hell breaks loose and I'm not sure, but I think I saw some Horsemen riding by me. Though, since it's the kiddie apocalypse, maybe they were like little midgets riding Shetland ponies or something. REGARDLESS! They were like screaming and yelling and freaking all the hell out for no. apparent. reason. Hand to God. No reason whatsoever. None. Pretty sure the Shetland Ponymen are Whining, Crazy, Starving, and Obnoxious.

And now we arrive at the present. They are in their rooms screeching and crying and yelling, and I? Well, I am blogging it out. Sure, I thought about writing it all to the hubs in Spain, but where's the fun in that? You all can't read it, if it's in an email, all private and stuff. Well, not necessarily private since the NSA is reading all of our correspondence now. Who do they have reading all this crap? I mean, are there special people whose job it is to read my emails? I think that's the money that needs to be going to military programs because, I'll be the first to tell you, my emails are bor-ing. Unless you think my inane daily goings on are exciting, in which case I can refer you to Overly Obsessed Girlfriend up there ^.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I've learned today that 7 sucks. Mostly because now, I never let them do anything they want to do, ever. Never Ever, and they know it always. And the boy wants to die. Martyrdom for the sake of Xbox Live games everywhere.

P.S. Hi NSA guy. You could at least be polite and follow my blog. Jerk. That's probably why they have you locked in a back room reading my emails, because you're a jerk. No one likes you. Carry on.