ME: "Anything swell happen over the weekend?

HIM: "I watched my son play leggo harry potter yesterday fom 7:30am - 3:00pm.  Non stop."

Maybe this email exchange is cute to some of you. Maybe it is not.

Kids, yeah. Awesome. And please spare me the adorable stories about some stupid shit they did today that just blew your mind because it is not that great. Well, I take that back. There was one cute thing today. Here it is bless:

A friend tells me via IM that his soon-to-be ex-wife was watching some reality TV with their 7-year-old son and the kid says, "Why do people is New York have blurry faces?" Because you know how shows pixelate people in the background and whatnot but he is a kid and does not know shit. So he says, "Tell ~otto~ to watch out for the blurry-faced people!" And I laughed until my face turned red. Red-red, not pink or any shit like that, like ripe-tomato red-red.

So maybe writing is cute to some of you. Maybe it is not. If writing is cute to you, go fuck yourself and eat shit. My last writing class is tonight and I am sad it is over but I am happy to see it go. It is okay to have conflicting emotions. That is what makes us all women.

On the first day of class, my teacher greets me with, "~otto~! Styes!" My eyes have been tormented by them all summer. Many of them. My blue blue eyes. They are still beautiful but you have to look past oozy, puss-filled, swollen sores and lumps in my disfigured eyelids. But it is what is on the inside that counts, right? Like all the jissom in my balls and the cash in my wallet. Be honest, we are all friends here, have a nice day.