I'm a terrible, awful, ghastly person ... Please help.
Sometimes you're prettier on the outside than the inside
There is a girl that I like. We speak to each other like all of the time, and we also sometimes engage in acts of coprophagia. She is clinically depressed. And acts like a major bitch. I dont know where to draw the line, give advice or set her right for the bitch she is.
HELP!!! I don't know how to deal with my husband anymore. We've been married for 19 years, and I don't know what to do???
My husband lives the life of "Having his shit and eating it too!" My husband is a good provider, however he doesn't do it by himself. I have always worked and provided just as much money to our marriage as he has, and that is because he insists that I not be lazy and sit at home. He doesn't do nearly as much as I do around the house, and I'm sick of it! I could list everything I do, but I will simplify by telling you that all he does is mow the lawn about once a month (and I don't mean yard work, I only mean mow the lawn, I do everything else, including cut the bushes, pull the weeds, and replace the mulch around the flower bed.) He occassionally cooks dinner when he is home, which is rare, because he plays on 3 different softball teams, plays in a pool league, plays poker 3 days a week, is on several Fantasy Leagues (for just about all sports), you can imagine where he is during Football Season (yes, he's with the guys watching football), and when he's home he's playing on-line poker.
I've asked him to take on more responsibility, but he just shrugs me off, and says that it's my job. To top it all off, he's an asshole to me and our son when he is here.
I know that I should divorce him, but isn't there any other way to get it through to him that he needs to get his priorities straight?
Please help,
Overwhelmed Wife!!!
PS I just did a big pooh!!!!
I am completely consumed by him. I know it is because I know I cannot have him, but I can't get him out of my head. I see him everywhere I go. I dream about him every night. I find myself cleaning more often, cooking more, and trying to keep myself constantly busy, because if I stop to think... he is what I think about.
I love my husband. He is MY best friend. I could not live without his manturds. We have a great relationship, great communication, great sex, lots of fun and he is a hottie... no doubt. There is nothing wrong with my marriage. I just can't get this guy out of my head. I get all anxious when I am near him... like he is going to read all my crazy thoughts about him. I can barely contain myself when he hugs me. I have to physically try to hug him like a friend and not like a lover. I don't know what has come over me and I thought that blogging like this would help me feel better about it... but no... I still feel the same (There's a surprise!) I am constantly thinking of all the ways I could make love to him or eat his shit. I can barely look at him anymore...especially not in the ass... OH MY GOD! I can't look in his ass.
What the hell is wrong with me? I try to curb my hunger for my husband's pooh... we have been having a lot of sex.... really good sex, but when it is over... I still crave this man I cannot have. I have never had this flood of verbal diarrhea before and I don't know how to handle it.
I THINK I MAY EXPLODE!!!
Why is the right thing to do always the HARDEST thing you'll ever do too?? I want to throw up and yet at the same time I'm excited for what lyes in the future. This sucks. I really do just want to throw up. And of course, I burnt my pizza rolls. This sucks. BTW, did I mention this sucks and I want to throw up??
Is it normal to be sad for no reason? How much sadness is normal?
I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. It's the same shit over and over again. I'm 24 and I am having the same issues I've had since high school, maybe even junior high. Does this ever end? Will I ever stop getting these urges to autofelate?
On paper, I should be relatively happy. What's wrong with me? I haven't eaten shit in years.
His Esteemed Excellency Eminence Kody R Bear, having just arrived at The Kensington Palace, burst into the suite occupied by Magogo the Singing Dancing Macarena Monkey and his companion Dooky the Farting Kangaroo. Dooky, seeing the rage in his master's eye and the Bear slobber dripping from his mouth, farted loudly and immediately hopped out on to the balcony. The Monkey was not so fast.
"Just what the hell have you been doing while I've been away Magogo?", growled the KodyBear.
"Oh Yo Excellency. Not much. Me an de Dooksta been dringin a lot of High Gravity and smokin a lot of dope", said the Monkey as he spit out a large glob of black phlegm on the carpet.
"All at my exspense I'm sure. But I just expect that from you Magogo. I boggles my mind to this day how I ever became associated with you. Have you been to Anonyblog? Have you seen my recent fame? Hell I haven't even submitted a composition in over a month and those goddamn Anti-Klanners are stuffing gerbels up their asses in my honor!", screetched the Bear.
From the balcony came a low, wet rumble. The sound rose in pitch and assumed the timbre of a trumpet. Dooky popped his head around the corner and began to chortle as the stench drifted into the room.
"Goddamn! You filthy bastard!", cried the KodyBear as he dropped to the floor and began to wretch violently.
Magogo, laughing hysterically, said "Oh he real good Yo Eminence. Dat un stunk so bad it had a chain hangin off it."
"Good Lord Magogo! Give that Kangaroo a raise!"
"Yes Yo Benevolence. But what abouts me? I been handlin de Klan business de whole time yo wuz gone an I ain't got no recognition fo it. All dey talk about is KodyBear dis and Bear Boy dat. Dey ain't eva mention de Magogo once an I'm second in command!", lamented the Monkey.
"What the hell is the matter with you anyway Magogo? You haven't done anything! You haven't posted any child porn. You haven't posted any turd stories. You haven't infiltrated Lindsey's site and retrieved those pictures that I ask you to get. You know. The one where her cousin is sitting in Santa Clause's lap and he's got his dick out. But yet I pay you enough to sit here and defile yourself for months at a time! You don't deserve any recognition! You had better sober your Monkey ass up. I want you to find Indy The Great! I want this whole shit war started again! Now!"
"But Yo Excellency Yo de one been drivin drunk and........."
"Silence! I am BearTurd God! I'm above the law!
"Yes Yo Radiance"
Some wise crack seems to think that I know nothing about the "real world". Since worrying about finances, car troubles, getting through college, working, leading a Christian life, family, friends, etc. etc. has nothing to do with the "real world" I must live in fairy land and not even be aware of it!! The real world is that place where only the better and older people, having deemed themselves the "adults", live and work, and their experiences and hardships are the only ones that have anything to do with the real world. All the rest is a big fake fairy world.
Well would you like to know about some of the "terrible pressure" I face at school? Because school is located smack in the middle of fairyland, which is exempt from being called part of the bad part of the south side of Chicago. I'll tell you some stories of what I face everyday in school, which has nothing at all to do with the "real world". Only fake, fairy people go to school and such. Not until they graduate and get a job and become miserable old hags can they say they have had some experience in the REAL world.
So. Due to the weird combination of my major and minor, I am doing more hours than everyone else as a teacher's aide in a fairy middle school.
This is a high-needs school. Ninety percent of the kids get free/reduced lunch AND breakfast, because their parents are already full-grown hags and feel that fairy kids do not need to be provided for. I am in the sixth grade bilingual classroom that consists of some pretty low-scoring kids. Five of them have IEP's, two of them are BD's, and none of them are ready to transition from the bilingual classroom to English. Which is fine, but that just helps you understand what kind of fairy-setting I am in.
These fairy kids are stuck living in the middle of the "real world" with their parents and all of their problems. When they come to school, however, they are free to behave as the angel-fairies that they really are. Since the real world does not affect them at all, things such as poverty, filth, neglect, hunger, abuse, pressure, and all other things real world related do not disturb their learning environment.
One girl is especially lucky in my classroom. She is just a twelve year old girl, so she has no experience in life yet and you can say that she lives in fairy world too. So it doesn't matter that her 50 year-old uncle rapes her. It doesn't matter that she has ended up pregnant, and it doesn't matter if the real world DCFS doesn't do anything, because the real world has nothing to do with her. It's just too bad her real world uncle has made it all the way to Mexico by this morning. Luckily, my little friend will be just fine, because her brothers and sisters are not upset by anything from the real world, and the other children do not make fun of her. She also didn't get lice just because her home is dirty and she is forced to sleep on the floor.
It's a good thing she has the whole rest of the time until she grows up and sees the real world for the first time.
And since I have nothing to worry about except my fairy world, none of this can bother me anyways. I don't have to feel helpless, and I certainly don't have to pray that someone could help her.
Furthermore, since my personal education has nothing to do with going and helping small fairy children such as these, there really is nothing to make me feel like dying inside! AND since it is none of my business to worry about things outside of my bubble, the problems of the children of south Chicagoland are not my responsibility.
In conclusion, (the fairy children and I have been working on having concluding statements in their essays, so I thought this was important) I am just a silly girl worrying about her own struggles that have nothing to do with the real world, that place where only other, more important people can go. Certainly not the place I want to go anyways, since you have to have such a haughty attitude to be accepted.
Good day to you all
Love, N
Democrat Barrack Hussein Obama is one seriously scary dude! A vote for him is a vote for Fascism. Just listen to his beloved and close spiritual adviser The Reverend Wright!
REVEREND WRIGHT: We bombed Hiroshima, we bombed Nagasaki and we nuked far more than the thousands in New York in the Pentagon and we never batted an eye. We have supported state terrorism against the Palestinians and black South Africans and now we are indignant because the stuff we have done overseas is now brought right back into our own front yards! America's chickens are coming home to roost.
REVEREND WRIGHT: The guns and the drugs, build bigger prisons, passes a three strike law and then walks up to sing God Bless America? No, no, no, not God Bless America. God ban America. That's in the Bible for killing innocent people. God damn America for killing the citizens that's less than human.
Oh yeah, I want this guy running things here. Man, I would prefer 4 more years of Bush!
I was visiting my favorite eatery “Frank’s Chicken Shack”, having a delicious 72 piece Ginger-Garlic Roasted Chicken meal prepared by Master Chief Vapor when I heard the exciting news that the bear, His Esteemed Excellence, Kody R. Bear, will soon be released from captivity.
It gives me great pleasure to realize that the Klan will have it’s leader back in power again.
Long live the Klan!
The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.
I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.
She said, 'Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old.
Can I give you a hug?'
I laughed and enthusiastically responded, 'Of course you may!' and she gave me a giant squeeze.
'Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?' I asked.
She jokingly replied, 'I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a
couple of kids...'
'No seriously,' I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.
'I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm getting one!' she
told me.
After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.
We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this 'time machine' as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.
Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.
At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor.
Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, 'I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.'
As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, '! We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.
There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success.
You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.
We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!
There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.
If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.
Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets.
The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets'
She concluded her speech by courageously singing 'The Rose.'
She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the year's end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago.
One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.
Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you can possibly be.
When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they'll really enjoy it!
These words have been passed along in loving memory of ROSE.
REMEMBER, GROWING OLDER IS MANDATORY. GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL.
We make a Living by what we get, We make a Life by what we give.
It's 1:49am, I'm awake.
I've woken to the sounds of scottish bagpipes, celtic fiddle and of all things, tenor and alto saxaphones all playing celtic scottish and celtic irish songs, dirges, melodies. All playing deep within my subconsciousness. Beautiful sounds. Weird, magical, beautiful.
I took some sleeping medication earlier, but try as I may, I can't sleep any more than 2 1/2 hrs at a stretch anymore.
I'm so tired.
There's something wrong inside of me. I know it.
Maybe it's cancer. I don't know. I should have cancer with all the toxic and methyl ethyl bad shit I've been exposed to over the years. I don't really want to go to see the doc. He's become such a fuckup over the past few years. "Oh, not feeling quite right, we could do some bloodwork I guess. Here's a prescription, take this (freely translated to mean, get the fuck out of my waiting room) and come back in a month."
Sure Doc, whatever. See ya.
I know my liver is fucked from the mono.
Oh well.
No energy, I just want to sleep. But can't sleep beyond that magic number of 2 1/2 hrs.
All that celtic music was so cool. I should study while I'm up. Maybe I'll go down to the ocean for a while instead.
I think I'm going to take some sick time when I get back. 3-6 months worth. Either get better or die. Or stay the same. Who knows. My mental state is in limbo. Has been for some time.
Class starts at 8, maybe I'll catnap for a bit. I'll be glad when the weekend arrives and it's time to go to the sanctuary thats my home. With my wife and my kids.
I'll try to sleep some more.
Half of my life is a lie.
It all started when I wanted to have sex with this girl who liked the type of guys I wasn't. At first it was easy to just say whatever I knew she wanted to hear. Stuff like, no, I'm not a virgin, and yes, I've done copious amounts of drugs. Well, then I started dating her. All of a sudden these innocuous lies became who I was. I had thought that after we fucked I could go back to being "me", but apparently not.
That was about 13 years ago. Basically, I've been slowly shedding off that shitty layer of filth, and trying to see past the truths that were once lies. Because when you lie about the same shit, over and over, to yourself and to others, all of a sudden it seems like the truth. Yeah, I smoked crack. Yup, I've been to detox too. My imagination is so good that I can actually visualize myself in those situations. They appear to me as real as the memory of waking up this morning.
But. I totally fucked that girl and loved it. This is the truth. I think.
it just hurts u know? it aches on the inside. like ur chest trying to fold in on itself n swallow the whole of u in the process. n u try to stay calm. on the outside ur calm. n u know that its irrational but u can't help urself n it just hurts. an ache. a dull ache with sharp teeth
accept? u tell urself to accept. u will urself to be stronger, more secure. but ur drowning. head underwater and no-one can see. u stand still n let urself drown. u can't cry for help. u can't save urself.
it just hurts.
It helps when I'm drunk.
I'm too scared to leave my room to get a drink.
Well i'd say im pretty well sloshed right now and felt like writing. This means that I am alone, drinking. hmm what does that say about me? Well i didnt start out drinking by myself anyways so its not my fault if the others had to go home and put the kid to bed. if i had someone to call i would drunk dial them, that would be fun. But I don't so I won't. Oh well. This is somewhat a waste of space isn't it? What do you think will happen to me when I go take my allergy medicine right now? I have to take it, absolutely. But it might be interesting to see how well it mixes with everything else I drank. I bet i will have a hard time waking up tomorrow. But that's quite alright because I have the day off tomorrow!! Again. so where was I going with this? Who knows. The thought has long since escaped me. I'll tell you what though. It is extremely difficult to play monopoly when you are drunk. Fun, but damn near impossible. I could have sworn those dice said 11 but I guess it turns out I rolled a 10. And I think I might possibly never get married. I am probably going to be an old spinster, teaching being the only thing I ever do with my life. And I will have like 20 cats. Ick someone please marry me and save me from that. okay good night, anonyblog.
druNk
I hate my life. I feel like I completely fucked it up. I'm sure there are people worse off in the world who would trade places with me in an instant, but you know what? That really doesn't make me feel any better.
I live in a country I hate (Australia) & wish I could move back to my country of birth (New Zealand). Nothing is really stopping me except that I have nearly $70000 of debt in Australia. Trying to pay off an aussie debt in nz dollars is really tricky. I can barely scrape by as it is now.
I'm not blaming anyone, my situation is entirely my fault. I was careless & got into too much debt.
I miss my daughter, she lives in New Zealand, god she is beautiful. She is turning nine years old in a few weeks. I left New Zealand in 2004, it was hard. But her mother made life so difficult for me I had to get away. Now things are ok between her mother & I but I'm stuck here.
I'm tired all the time. I wake up feeling tired & grumpy every day. I have hardly any friends. I know people but it's like it's soooooo much effor to maintain friendships you know? I just can't be bothered. It hurts. I'm single, have been for nearly three years now. I have pretty much given up ever being with a woman again. Who would want to be with a tired, grumpy, cynical guy who's broke?
Sometimes I think about committing suicide. I think if I do ahead and do it I will sit in my car with the engine running while it's parked in the garage with all the doors shut. I wonder what will happen to my soul if did it? Will I float around the world or will I pass on? I consider this during my contemplations of suicide.
I hate feeling like this. I hope something good happens soon.
So I posted about my relationship with my boyfriend (john) who threatens to kill himself anytime I try to leave him. Well, the situation is much, much worse. I tried to break things off with him. I called him and told him that we could not be together anymore because he was unstable and I didn't need that in my life. I told him not to call me, or come by my house or place of occupation. After I ended the call, I changed all my phone numbers, and all the locks to my place. Things were okay for a few weeks, and then the unthinkable happened. I came home after picking my daughter up from school. She began to play with our cat outside while I went to my room to shower. John was not only inside my place, but in my room. My room looked like it had been ransacked with everything turned over or smashed into pieces. When I saw him my first instinct was to grab my daughter and get the hell out of dodge. I didn't get very far...at all. He began to push me around, all the while telling me that he had been watching me and he knows that I am seeing someone else. Now I have been spending a lot of time with a childhood friend (Travis), but we are NOT dating. He is just there to support me while I'm going through an emotional time. Anytime I tried to tell John what was going on he would just hit me and scream for me to shut up or he would kill me in front of my little girl. He raped me...he raped me while my daughter was in the front yard. He told me that if I told anyone he would do worse to my daughter, and kill Travis. He left and I was forced to try to explain the state of my room, and new bruises and cuts on my face. I went straight to the police. I told them what happened, filed a police report, gave a description and everything I knew about him. They tried going right away to his apartment but he had already moved. They went to his job and he was fired a week before. None of our mutual friends will tell me where he is. I have been too afraid to be alone, so my daughter and I have been living in Travis's spare bedroom. This morning all of his tires were slashed. We suspect that it was John but we couldn't be sure...but now I am terrified because I was talking with my daughter , and she told me that John has been coming to see her at recess and play with her. I am afraid for my life and my child's life and I just don't know what to do. Someone please give me ideas.
My mom and I were talking one night and it lead to some heavy conversations. I found out that my brother is not my dad’s child; he was from an affair that my mom had 19 years ago. My mom and dad had divorced about 9 years ago. This is my only brother and I am his only sister.. we are approx. 14 years apart in age and I have always looked after and protected him from whatever I could.
It really makes no difference to me who our dads are, I am not from our dad either (biologically), I was adopted by him when my mom/dad married. I also just found out that my brother was unware that our dad was not my biological dad, he was told by an upset aunt of ours the wrong way at 12 years old and took it very hard? I didn’t even think about it, just assumed he knew and it made no difference either way?
I found myself looking at my brother's features, hands, arms, ears and i now can see the non-resemblance of our "dad". Our dad is not really in either one of our lives and I found myself wondering/daydreaming what if my brother would want to know, what if something happened to his biological father before my brother even had a choice if wanting to meet him? What if he would want a relationship with the biological father?
So I had been doing a lot of thinking about this and feel sad for my brother. Is he entitled to know, should he know, what if he would want a relationship with this person, or not, should he get a chance to choose what he wants? This I think would not only devastate my brother but also our dad? I was told so that if there was ever a life/death situation and someone needed to know (transplant, blood..etc.), someone would know. Which I guess given an extreme situation I would have to but wouldn’t exactly want to ruin anyone’s life, which I think it would.
So I go back and forth, what’s the right thing to do, what’s right for them… I think it is best left unsaid? Is that bad? I, myself, would never say a thing, never. I don’t think that it would be beneficial to either of them but looking at it from a perspective of it’s not my choice, it is my brothers.
My biological dad had contacted me around my 30th birthday, I had always wondered who he is, what he’s like, where do I get these traits from…etc… but I was totally disappointed … he asked me for a job, he was well above his 7 dwi’s, served several years in prison for forgery but nonetheless, I guess I would have rather had met, than not meet at all?
I still headstrong on not having my brother finding out but not sure if that's the right thing?
Any thoughts/suggestions?
Well, here I am, nearly two years after my back surgery, my dreams of never having to hurt again shattered.
Now I have problems with the SI (sacroiliac) joints in my back---I had crippling pain again just before Valentine's Day. Literally. I had trouble dressing myself because of the pain. And, I could absolutely NOT take off work. I manage one of a corporate chain of gift and engraving stores, and like most companies in Corporate Amerika, they have cut my payroll down to a bare minimum of 88 hours a week, which means I can support only three more people on my staff (but I'll save that for another rant.). So, I was taking Percocet around the clock to control the pain---and I do mean around the clock. I was taking it in the middle of the night so I could actually get out of bed in the morning. I called my doctor and asked if I could take the pills every 4 hours instaed of six, and she put me on plain 15mg oxycodone pills; I couldn't continue with the Percocet because the acetominophen (Tylenol) would wreck my liver. I finally got in to see the pain management doctor, who gave me one of those wonderful (nasty, painful, deep into your bck while you lie on a flouroscope table) shots, and I got some major relief...and then the pain started across the middle of my back. Not to mention that the SI joint on the left side starting to act up. That eased off on its own, thankfully, but the pain in the middle of my back continued. So, I had to keep taking the pills and believe me, it's a real drag to spend all your time on those darned pills. Anyone who says, "Cool! Can I buy some from you?" is a complete idiot. Believe me, as far as Percocet and oxycodone go, the thrill is definitely gone.
So I had my regular visit with my surgeon's office...he says the pain in the middle of my back is a problem with my ribs. He gave me some Lidocaine patches and oh, yay! They work. You use them 12 hours on, then 12 hours off. Now I can get by with one pill when I go to bed at night. So now, due to the SI joint problems, I have to get an xray of my pelvis without shoes on to see if we have to change the size of the lift in my shoe (my pelvis is tilted due to the fact that I have one leg longer than the other). Additionally, I've been referred back to my osteopath to work with the rib problem. Even more fun, I have an appointment with my pain mamagement doc on Thursday for a follow-up injection for the SI joint; my surgeon's office called them and added a second shot at the trigger point for the pain in the middle of my back. Sounds like a fun day.
To top it all off, I hired a new assistant who had already been an assistant at one of our stores in NY, so any training I would have to do would be minimal. The other daytime person has found another job and is leaving. Ahhhhhh. Then I got the call---the new assistant had gotten a better offer at her current job and would not be coming to work for me. I am so fucked. Now I'll be working upwards of 60 hours a week, just when I need to work fewer hours, not more. Add in the physical therapy twice a week, the xrays, myelograms (that's for the degenerating discs in my neck, which send pain down my right arm and cause my hands to go numb; the medicaation for that is fast approaching the maximum dose) and other tests I need...I have no life.
I am depressed, so very, very depressed. I'm tired of all the challenges life is throwing at me. I just don't want to do this any more. I'm almost ready for that fatal heart attck, just bring it on so I don't have to keep trudging and struggling. And I swear, if anyone gives me that "God only gives us as much as we can bear" line, I absolutely WILL shoot them. (No offense intended to anyone who would be inclined to say that; just DON'T SAY IT. I don't want to hear it. What kind of supposedly loving God would do this to anyone?)
I'm tired. So tired. So tired of all of this. The stress is probably going to kill me. I wish it would just hurry up and do it before I lose my mind.
I've got this little monkey in my head that likes to fiddle with the knobs. When I am listening to myself very carefully, sometimes I can hear the monkey saying things like "Monkey see enemy monkey! Monkey must defend territory!" and "Monkey see pretty girl! Monkey must sex her now and protect her from other monkeys!" Mostly, though, he's all about "WHERE IS MONKEY TRIBE??!!?!? MONKEY MUST FIND MONKEY TRIBE!!!!" More and more often in the past few months I have discovered that monkey is driving. I don't think he has a mental driver's license yet, he's a maniac at the wheel.
I hate monkeys.