I hate bugs

Daily Stats:
Words: Eww. Eww. Eww. Eww.
Caffeine: morning cup
Evil Calories: Peach Crisp (that I made from scratch and refuse to share)
Reality TV: DVR still on the fritz

I hate bugs. HATE them. Don't try and give me any of that crap about them being an important part of nature. Bullshit, they're nasty. And it's always fun when you travel, because you get to see what kind of vile creatures terrorize other parts of the country. For instance, my parents are harassed endlessly by bald faced hornets, or, as my dad likes to call them, "bastard-dammit-shitheads" (not always in that particular order...sometimes it's "dammit-bastard-shitheads" or sometimes it's just a modified "shit-dammit") They're horrid creatures. And somehow, they know I hate them with every fiber of my being, and they taunt me endlessly. Why do they fly around as if they've been sucking on a vile of crack? Why can't they just fly slow and in a straight line? We'd get along much better if they weren't so freakin' spazzy. I would kindly step out of their way and not flail around like I was having a seizure if they didn't always travel in "ape shit" mode. Who knows, maybe we could even be friends. Maybe I'd rescue them from window sill and help them outside instead of banishing them into the bowels of vacuum cleaner.

In other news, my son is currently chewing on a dog toy (long story, my parents have a dog, they buy him squeaky toys, many of them are shaped like food, this one in particular looks like an ice cream cone, yadda yadda...).

I should probably go.

Remember, bugs suck.