Another day another dollar short.Mature

Week three without gas. Geez Doe(get it? ha ha)Diary! Get a job! I need that gas turned on! I smell like a fat girl's hair cake. Today wasn't too bad.  Hubby from hell woke up pissed off. It wasn't my fault, but he just has this, i don't know. WAY. It's like he looks at me and I can practically hear him making a mental list of my failures as wife and mother. The only time he touches me is to give me a hi-five/fist bump/then you blow it up. It's our secret handshake. I named it! first, we hi-five, then,well, i guess it's self-explanatory(can we pretend that I wasn't proud of naming it?). Woke up to the smell of my burning esophagus. That little fucker shit all over his room and then played in it. You'd think he'd know better by now. I'll say this. Middle schoolers will call him stinky. If he can't knock it off by September... jesus. I'll be the mom of the smelly kid.Ah well. C'est la vie. He's been humming all day. I think that if he could talk the lyrics would go like this,

The world is my toilet and life is a song!

I love to be naked and show off my dong!

I eat cat food and sugar, I think it's the best!

But the best is to bite down on my mommy's breast!

(jazz hands!!)

I can't stay mad at him though. When I sang him that song he laughed like he was on acid. Ya know that laugh of just.. pure joy. (plus i've had a lot of wine). you know what diary? autism blows.

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