gross

In the past couple days, people found my site by googling this and this and yahooing this.

I love it when people encourage me to talk about my coolkid past and poop and genitalia. I mean, the people have spoken and I feel it is my obligation to deliver the information.

What isn't so coolkid but has everything to do with poop and genitalia, you ask? My current situation where Jake demands to be within two inches of me at all times and I can't ever have a moment's peace and forget going to the bathroom all by myself if I want a house that runs under eighty-three decibles and when we get up there my not-yet two year old wants to know where my penis is and doesn't understand why I won't let him pry his grubby little hands between my knees to "look fowit" so the whining commences. And don't even get me started about how my darling child told me my penis needs a haircut. Maybe if the boy let me alone long enough so I could take a real shower...

That's it, I'm done on potty duty. Time for someone else to take over. The effort I take to pull my shirt down to the middle of my thighs in attempt to demonstrate some level of decency is all for naught. Little eyes are quick. And more importantly, creepy.

I need a happy hour and I need it quick. Preferably one with a bathroom in which I feel comfortable spending about ten minutes.