First, let me just say...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DREW!!!

I hope it rocks and I totally want to see pictures of the tattoo!

Dios mio, I think there's a whole team of bloody vipers happily pounding away inside my skull this morning. It hurts. And I sorely (so very sorely) need at least another two hours sleep before there's even a chance of feeling remotely human. Why can't it be Saturday? Or Sunday for that matter?

So, tonights the night Jordin and Blake battle for the top spot on A. I. and since Cameron has an appointment with his psychologist, I don't have TiVo (or any of those other fancy recording type thing-a-ma-jigs) and I'm slightly sceptical about my mothers ability to record the damn thing on a good ole VHS tape, I'll probably miss it. But, as long as I manage to catch the finale tomorrow night, I'll live. At this point it doesn't really matter who wins, they're both fantastic and, win or lose, will no doubt end up with recording contracts, but if I were in their shoes, I'd be praying for second place right about now, not that I have anything against first place, mind you, but in this case, second's the way to go.

My Cameron was decidedly beastly last night. Truly. It went to hell the moment I walked in the door. Sigh.

First, it was dinner. My dad was working on some such electrical problem in the apartment complex next to us for our landlord and was therefore not in the kitchen whipping dinner together as Cameron strongly felt he should be so he bitched and nagged and whined and bitched and nagged and whined until I was sure my ears were going to bleed.

Second, it was dinner. My dad finally whipped dinner together and summoned us all to gather 'round the table and dig in but Cameron, the sweet child, had found something on TV that he absolutely had to watch so he whined and yelled and stomped and whined and yelled and stomped until I was sure my head was going to explode.

Third, it was dinner. My dad made Cameron's favored chicken nuggets coated in some rather tasty honey BBQ batter (hell on my refuse-to-budge tummy), which would've normally made him happier than a pig in shit but since he was in the middle of a tantrum over having to miss the rest of his TV program, happiness wasn't on the menu. But dramatics certainly were. I was too mean and he didn't want to sit next to me, the nuggets were too hot and burned his fingers, his finers were burning so he couldn't pick up his nuggets, he didn't want ketchup for his nuggets he wanted something else (etc, etc, etc) so he whined and cried and yelled and stomped and kicked and whined and cried and yelled and stomped and kicked until I was sure my teeth were going to shatter from gritting them so hard.

That's enough for now but sadly (so very sadly), my friends, not all.

And honestly, I don't think I would've been near as bothered by Cameron's behavior (since it isn't exactly a rare thing) if I hadn't already had a piss poor day at work. Ah well, hopefully today'll be better.