The Glitter King & other nefarious nonsense.

I'm starting to suspect that my son, bless his sweet heart, is bound and determined to drive me completely out of my mind. And at this rate, it won't be long.

Have I ever mentioned my odd and somewhat childish affection for glitter? Yeah, more than likely. Anyhow, I've had a thing for the stuff as long as I can remember, this morning however, I'm not really feeling all that affectionate toward the sparkly shit. It all started last night when I came home from work and found Cameron playing with a container of glitter he'd found in one of my dresser drawers (which, mind you, he shouldn't have been pawing through in the first place). He was making a mess with it. Glitter, glitter and more glitter. It was everywhere--his hands, his arms, his face, his hair. We eventually got him all cleaned up, glitter free and into bed. But, what I didn't know (and he certainly didn't tell me) was that he'd apparently spilled a whole mess of the stuff in his bed and since he tossed his blanket over the glittery sheets and it was dark when I tucked him in, I didn't see it. Sigh. He was covered in the shit this morning, head to toe, he even had pieces stuck in his eye lashes. Have you ever tried getting massive amounts of glitter off your person when it's been ground into your skin by sleep and sweat? Well, it isn't fun. Or quick, for that matter. So, I was late for work this morning and not feeling the least bit loving towards my beloved glitter.

My dad made corndogs for dinner last night and because I know times are tough and money's tight, I ate them with nary a complaint but let me tell you, it was rough going. I have no aversion to corndogs as a quick lunch or a snack at the fair or a BBQ or a picnic but for dinner, ugh. At least we had them with french fries as opposed to the mixed vegetables served with them the last time we had them for dinner. Gods I sound like such an inconsiderate bitch, don't I? And I'm not, not really, sometimes sure but...

Maybe I'm unreasonably picky or just plain crazy (because apparently she has a rather impressive fanbase) but I do NOT like Melinda Doolittle. Not that she can't sing, she can, but she's stiff and she hunches and her faux like humbleness grates on my nerves. I want her to go bye-bye already but sadly, I have doubts that she's going anywhere (it's that whole fanbase thing again). Sigh. If she makes it to the finale (and I'm thinking she will), it's really really going to annoy me. Ah well, enough Melinda-hating for today.

It's Wednesday and because I annihilated my kid at the 50 yard dash Mondy evening he's challenged me to a rematch and tonight's the night. I hope my poor abused feet can take it, the little monster's fast, makes me proud.

And that's it. I'm feeling largely negative lately and trying not to let it shimmer through, it's working alright I suppose but I'm thinking I need to do better.