Why is it throughout the day I have a hundred things to write about, then when I sit in front of the computer to type all thought is gone? I could write about how my perfect weekend wasn’t that perfect. Why my five year old can’t sit still, or why his impulse allowed him to draw on Mimi’s new walls.

Or maybe I should write about how my two-year-old fascination with clothes leads to another load of laundry everyday. Gawd knows I have rivers of inspiration in my house.

Now I sit here now frying my brain to that which we call “The Hills,” which is made of crack. That I have convinced myself because I can not stop watching these whiny kids complain about EVERYTHING!
“She’s my friend, she’s not my friend.

She dated who, then she did what? She stole him.” CRY CRY, black mascara down face. “I’m so great, you are so great. I love you, I hate you. WTF! OMG! Spencer is a DOOCHE” Yep that sums it up, this is probably why I can’t write.

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