Tonight, I am dealing with the silly challenge of having had an idiotic clash with an young idiot - over an issue that they were shrill, incompetent and well, idiotic about - no question - and now that she has had a change of heart she is trying to make out that my  reaction to cope and plan with her meltdown is somehow nasty... the actual details are unnecessary to write, because you may well die of boredom, or at the least, fall into a coma of boredom. Always a risk. 

I don't know why I bother even interacting with idiots. Why? Of course I am right - in pretty much any topic we clash about. I can unbiased say that this is fact, seriously. So surely, I shouldn't care. Why do I care. What is the irritating human need, however small, to know that you are right? Especially when there is no way on earth that the idiot is ever going to even murmur about ones rightness. Fuck. Fuck. See, I have been working on my potty mouth, and am allowing an idiotic teenager and her idiocy to spawn a blog entry. So wrong, on so many levels. 

Also silly is how I managed to drink two bottles of champagne between midday and 6pm. Not at a party - whilst doing stable chores. You know, as you do. The good news is, I'm only drinking on weekends. Ha. That doesn't sound defensive at all. 

(my baby with his dad tonight. I miss. him. )