On the ninth day of Christmas my children gave to me...
nine all out rantings (there are so many things I would like to rant about right now Wal-Mart being one of them, but let's start with the red Monte Carlo I follow to work everyday. First a Monte Carlo, really? Are you sure you wouldn't like to hang a pair of chrome testicles from the back bumper, you know to class it up a bit? And if you have the balls to drive a red Monte Carlo then for the love of gods drive it a little faster than 10 under the speed limit! Oh and one more thing, the left lane is for passing asshole!)
Eight maids-a-cleaning (I could use nine but I don't want to be a complainy complainerson).
Seven glasses brimming (which is different from the usual six).
Six listen to what I'm sayings (or just ignore me completely and throw a huge temper tantrum).
Five meals that someone else brings (thanks Mom).
Four swearing words (which is strange, seeing as I hardly ever find use for profanity).
Three holding pens (only until the Christmas tree comes down and also until the kids turn twenty, I'm just kidding you're legally an adult when you turn eighteen. So only until they're eighteen).
Two latex gloves (and the pee, -sigh-).
And a nap with nobody but me.