Saturday, June 4, 2011

The Happiest Place on Earth?

No wait - that's Dizzy Land, right?  We did not do The Mouse - I flatly refuse. It seems like too much the marketing machine to me, trading on impressionable little kids and their unable-to-say-no parents. But I digress...

We took the crotchfruit on vacation for his birthday last month. It was a Production, orchestrated by the Sperm Donor with me dragging along less than willingly. I was sucking it up for the sake of the child, since I don't like crowds, amusement parks, rides...shit like that.  But the spawn was excited, so I put on my happy face and hit the tiki bar by the pool whenever I could.


Dear Sperm Donor,

In case dragging you upstairs to see the fruits of my purging-cleaning-reorganizing labor over the holiday weekend wasn't a hint, I figured telling you dead on that I was DONE with living in a shithole full of clutter would do the trick. To be abso-fucking-lutely sure, I told you that it would be a great idea if you and the crotchfruit cleaned up the room you sleep in that used to be his, and for you to clean up the top of your dresser that you insist live in public space. Because when I'm DONE, I'm DONE - and I might just take it into my head to extend my purging-cleaning-reorganizing energy all over your shit.

Since you spent the holiday weekend partying with your brother-in-law while I busted my hump on the upstairs, I figure my request for one day per weekend dedicated to getting this shithole in order wasn't, well...out of order.  How convenient of you to find a weekend's worth of shit to do at other people's  houses instead.