I want to write about the day we just had, but I've had more than a half a bottle of wine and I'm watching Lost, which, you guys, I'm not even going to discuss because it is my 5th time watching it from the beginning and that's ABSOLUTELY the mark of a fucking lunatic especially since I know that Sayid ends up with Shannon which is literally the worst thing that ever happened on television, not to mention the entire fucking last episode which was like having amazing foreplay for hours and then finding out he has micro-penisitis, which, I realize is like, "why wouldn't you know how big the guy's dick is after hours of foreplay?" but I just need that metaphor to work for this purpose, okay, so let's just move on.
Anyway, we went to a graveyard down the road with a grave for the person the road we live on was named for. And Monty had an epic meltdown on the way and then I was like, "Look at this grave of a BABY! It died in 1817. Probably from a cold. You know the thing you just ran around through for two days? And you're crying because we won't carry you 100 feet down the road because we just want you to walk like a regular human. Jesus Christ, kid. Get a fucking grip."
I didn't say any of those things. Put the phone down.