Take This Week and SHOVE IT

Yesterday can KISS MY ASS and ROT IN HELL for all I care. Yesterday was entirely an EPIC FAIL. It was like "Castaway," except longer. Like "The English Patient," but without Ralph Fiennes and Sayid from "Lost." If anyone found themselves in the midst of plagues of flies or frogs or locusts or boils, or riots or fires or mudslides or sushi in the mall, that was probably tangential to my problems, because yesterday was just a bad day of Biblical proportions.

Honestly, it was so bad that I don't even want to recap, but it does appear that I my "Litany of Worries" was not entirely fashioned out of whole cloth. Some of these things, I have reason to be worried about, and indeed, some have already come to pass.

Also, I am thinking of maybe changing my name to Job, except I am afraid I will be mistaken for an "Arrested Development" character, and while that could be cool, for right now my sense of humor has gone off on walkabout without me.

Also: I am not yet 800 years old. Or a man. Or particularly interested in being named after a book of the Bible.

So, hey! Quick! Look at these pictures of my kid!

We're starting to let her pick out her own clothes. Well, partly -- she picked out this shirt and we did the rest. I bought the shirt. Circle of life, or something.

Doesn't it look like she's on a photo shoot for America's Next Top Model here? Miss Tyra's "smizing" has nothing on my kid's.

No idea. I try as much as possible to go with the flow. This might be one of those times when she was pretending to be a cat. I don't know. Kids don't make sense.

GLADYS LEIBOWITZ LIVES, BITCHES! My parents got Shae a new bubble mower. We can't figure out how to make it work, but does this kid know how to work it, or what?