Here's the deal,

See, if I am supposed to schedule your appointments and such, I can only go by what I have in my calendar. If you schedule other appointments and don't tell me about them, don't put them in your palm pilot, and never give it to me to dock, how the hell am I supposed to know that you've got an 11:00 appointment?

And when you realize that your 10:00 was actually a 10:30, (and I have told you that from the get-go that it was 10:30) and your kids are at home, because they had a sleepover, and you have an appointment at 11:00 and you're practically crying at me and repeating "shit, shit, shit, what am I going to do?". I'm going to sit there mutely, because this is your fault. And when you're crying because your kids haven't been fed breakfast yet (It's 10 AM, the hell?) and you're out of eggs, I'm going to roll my eyes. Your daughter is 16. She is old enough to know how to grab a bowl, put cereal in it, dump on some milk, and eat. Or grab some yogurts for her friends. Or make toast. Seriously. Even the 13 year old is bright enough to do this.

Besides, your personal chef was here Tuesday. I know you have food in the house. And if I was nice, I'd offer to go pick up some eggs, and cook for your "starving" kids, (like I know you were hoping I'd offer). However, you've not once asked me how Evil was, and you know she's sick. (Plus, not my job!)







In other news, Egg Radio is playing "Dad, I'm in Jail" by Was (Not Was). Elvis, I haven't heard this in forever! HEE!