Don't get hot-n-bothered. Listen, I know I got problems. I also know just what this goofy world needs.

EDIT: New Bomb Turks at the Beachland June 11th. BE THERE!!!

Charlie Sheen, you're a fucking idiot and somehow, you'll become a hero to jackass men everywhere. You're a total junkie/alocholic, your career is circling the drain and no one will ever be able to insure you, the cops just came and took your sons away, and somehow, you're still better than me. Emilio Estevez should've been the star of your family. Ducks! Fly! Together!

Yesterday was a shit show. Just all around gross from the time I rolled out of bed until the time I rolled back into bed. I was trapped in stress shackles and basically barfed stress all over Tessa at a post-work, impromptu dinner. And then almost barfed my dinner. I need a temporary coma and a remedy to Round Ligament Pain that doesn't involve water as water is the devil in my world!

Check-up tomorrow. Hopefully hearing the little monster's heartbeat again will set things straight. And I know getting to schedule our ultrasound will be a healthy dose of excitement. And if I'm still wearing crabby pants after all that, I have 3 paintings I really want to do and brand spanking new supplies to do them with...maybe I'll just bury myself in art. Art or blankets, I'll be buried under one of the two.