Don't Make Me Angry, You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry

Yesterday while Bern was watching some movie trailers Connor asked to see the Hulk. She had to do something on the stove so she told him to wait a second and she'd do it when she came back. When she did come back she'd found he'd typed HULK into the URL. Just now he spelt it again on the fridge with some magnetic letters. I don't want to say my kid's a fuckin' genius or anything, but my kid's a fucking genius.

Ever seen the warning message when there's a coding error in something you're trying to post? Sometimes when I'm trying to cut stuff I've found out of Firefox and then paste it into Safari where I'm working on my blog the computer gets a little pissy. Why do I do stuff in two separate browsers? That's just the way we roll here, did I tell you how to dress this morning? Anyway, when I was working on the last post it wasn't pasting, so being a man I just kept hitting the buttons harder and swearing. Then it worked and I had a Bible's worth of code. Oops. So I cut off the excess fat and tried to publish. Then I got an error message that should have come with a blaring alarm and flashing lights. "Core has breached! Anti-matter containment will fail in 15 seconds!" Fear, Fire, Foe!

My Editor and Chief has recently brought to my attention the fact that I cannot spell, use correct grammar, punctuation, keep my tenses straight, form a paragraph, write with any structure whatsoever and cannot tell the difference between your and you're or there and their.

I so totally can. I write most of my stuff at breakfast though, at like quarter to six. Cut me some slack. And before starting this blog, it's been a loooooong time since I had to write anything more coherent than a birthday card. Besides, I'm married, I don't have to remember anything anymore.