So, I quit my World of Warcraft Guild. Because Necrotus, YET AGAIN, got on my nerves. It went something like:

Me: I'm naked and my boyfriend won't touch me cause I smell like smoke.
Necrotus: All men come to a point in their lives where they don't want to fuck their women because they're old pussy. They go after new pussy until it wears them out and they settle down out of weariness. More outrageous stereotypes, presumptions, et cetera.
Me: ...*ssssnap*

So I left the guild, mostly because it was the only way I could not hear Necrotus speak anymore.

And then I told Josiah what happened.

Him: K.
Me: What.
Him: Well, outrageous presumption about the conversation I didn't hear any of the details of.
Me: ...*SSSSSSNAP*

FUCK OFF AND DIE.

Okay, so I have Griffith who I nanny Monday from 4pm to his and Henry's basketball practice, and then Tuesday and Wednesday from 3pm to 6pm. Now, I have another family I work for with twin 10 year olds (Gryffin and Duncan), a 12 year old girl (Campbell), and a 16 year old boy (Malcolm). Now, most of the time I will be sitting the twins, but they need housework done as well, not to mention shuffling kids around to their activities.

So today was my first day alone with the twins. I picked them up from one of their million activities and took them home. They dumped their shit all over the floor and didn't think twice about it. Strike one.

Lawrence called me at 4:30 and told me something I found a bit strange:

"So they need to practice, and then they need to change into something more comfortable, and I don't want them getting on the computer, so tell them we don't have the time to mess around with that, but that they can play Magic or whatever they want afterward."

He basically told me what to do. Lovely. Strike two.

Me: You guys need to practice.
Twins: The computer's broken.
Me: *sigh* Go practice plz, your daddy said to.
Twins: *silence*
Me: *checks clock a million times* ...Seriously guys. Practice.
Twins: I can't fix it, it's broken, what's wrong, weh weh weh.
Me: I'll fix it, leave it alone, go practice.
Twins: *practices for 5 minutes, then changes clothes and hovers around the computer* What are you doing, don't close it.
Me: I'm not doing anything to hurt the install. Shushy.
Twins: OMG IF WE TURN THE INTERNET OFF THE INSTALL WILL SPLODE OMGGGG
Me: -_- Strike three.

So their family's a mess. Am I surprised?

Not really.

Fuck, I hate children.

Ice-age heat wave
Can't complain
If the world's at large
Why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan
Gonna find another place
Maybe one I can stand
I move on to another day
To a whole new town with a whole new way
Went to the porch to have a thought
Got to the door and again
I couldn't stop
You don't know where and you don't know when
But you still got your words
And you got your friends
Walk along to another day
Work a little harder
Work another way

Well uh-uh baby
I ain't got no plan
We'll float on maybe
Would you understand?
Gonna float on maybe
Would you understand?
Well float on maybe
Would you understand?

The days get shorter
And the nights get cold
I like the autumn
But this place is getting old
I pack up my belongings
And I head for the coast
It might not be a lot
But I feel like I'm making the most
The days get longer
And the nights smell green
I guess it's not surprising
But it's spring and I should leave

I like songs about drifters
Books about the same
They both seem to make me feel a little less insane
Walked on off to another spot
I still haven't gotten anywhere that I want
Did I want love?
Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel
Like I'm caught in an undertow?

The moths beat themselves to death against the lights
Adding their breeze to the summer nights
Outside, water like air was great
I didn't know what I had that day
Walk a little farther to another plan
You said that you did
But you didn't understand

I know that starting over is not what life's about
But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth
My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth
My thoughts were so loud

"In the eighties, you had Judy Blume's training-bra classics and softcore porn like Do You Love Me, Harvey Burns? In the nineties, you had Francesca Lia Block's L.A. fairytales. Now, teen girls have Louise Rennison's books about the engagingly pouty heroine Georgia Nicolson (Angus, Thongs and Full Frontal Snogging, etc.), which, while charming, are about pretty standard stuff: fights with mom, kissing boys, feeling ugly.

Then you have Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series, pure proto-socialite drivel about a ditz who just can't stop buying accessories on credit. From the Amazon summary: "Becky's ten-month globe-trot with hubby Luke was a shopping spree disguised as a honeymoon — heck, Becky will walk across hot coals for an aquamarine necklace…"

Girls: reading these books is a BIG MISTAKE. Not only is this soulless genre, with its "look how unsexy sex can be" posturing, way too shallow for a growing mind, it only expands the chasm between you and men. What one needs from a boyfriend or husband, at any age, is empathy and companionship, and the more Women are from Venus bullshit one indulges in, the more difficult it is to bridge the gender gap. Whenever you're setting up human relationships as a game (The Rules, He's Just Not That Into You) or a glamorous lifestyle choice wherein you dress up and spend most of your time talking with your girlfriends or your journal about how exasperated men make you (Sex and the City, Bridget Jones' Diary), you're never going to see men as fallible, mortal beings looking for understanding just like you are."

BINGO. Read that, and you're good for life.