Still Kickin'

Fernie's still kicking. And by that, I mean that his gills haven't stopped moving. Otherwise, he's pretty much the same. Though it kind of looks like the ends of all his fins are going to fall off. Maybe that's a good thing? Maybe it just means that the rest of him is healing?
Daulton and I cleaned and organized one of the storage closets today.
I've been trying to get in contact with a carpet cleaning service to have the complex cleaned. I called them yesterday, and they told me they'd call back with a quote. They did call back with a quote, but I tried three different times to get a hold of them today to schedule cleaning and didn't get an answer.
Light blue boxers with no modesty button (I don't know what to call this button, but that's pretty much the best description of it). I'm so unwholesome.
I went to Wally-world tonight. It was exciting, let me tell you what. I'm joyously celebrating the return of AriZona Pomegranate Green Tea to their shelves.
Anna wants a dog.
Daulton really likes to talk smack to me. As I said, he's fourteen (nearly fifteen) and looks like he's twelve. If he's hit puberty then it has only just happened. He likes to act tough. I guess it's a classic example of a Napoleon Complex. Though a quick bit of research tells me that psychologists have yet to declare this a real condition. But there's a flaw in their research. In their studies on the subject, they tried to see if short men were more aggressive. That isn't the issue at all. Short men in general having nothing to do with it. It's an issue of short men on an individual level, and I guarantee there are a lot of short men compensating for their height. Psychologists can be idiots.
I replaced the toilet seat on our toilet with one that has a lid. Anna likes there to be a lid on her toilet seat. I think the idea is that this now gives me something that I have to raise and lower each time I use the toilet.
While I was switching toilet seats, Chief was stealing the parts necessary to make the switch. At one point, I had to crawl under the futon to retrieve a piece he had carried off.
We have a ridiculously awesome and comfortable bed. And it wasn't even one of the expensive ones. It's so perfect.
I'm ridiculously awesome and comfortable and so perfect. You wish you were me.
Want in on a secret? One of the reasons I've been blogging so much is that it gives me an opportunity to sit at my computer and listen to my music. I love my music. You should love my music too. If you don't love my music then you are not awesome, attractive, or intelligent like me (though I suppose this doesn't preclude that you still may be awesome, attractive, and intelligent in your own way).
But if you are seriously looking into hearing some incredibly awesome music, check out Maylene & the Sons of Disaster. "III" is just so good. No, it's not the heaviest stuff out there. But it's some of the nastiest, dirtiest, grittiest, incredibliest rock music ever.
And don't think I'm forgetting Project 86 because if you don't pick up "Picket Fence Cartel" you are a failure at being alive.
It's time for my midnight snack. They say you shouldn't eat after eight or so at night, but that's for people who get up at weird times like 8 a.m. or something. I on the other hand am completely normal and won't go to bed until three or four.
So go listen to some Maylene while I got eat. I mean it too. Just give it a chance. It's just so much fun. Seriously. Even you Jana, you need to listen to it. And if you cry, then you are doing it wrong. If your ears bleed, you're probably doing it right. Just try to appreciate it. Please? For me? Please? Tell Jeremy to grow out his hair and bring back the beard, and he can join the band and pretend he's from the deep dirty south.