Tell me why, I don't like Mondays, tell me why, I don't like Mondays, tell me why...

(Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh) My hair has gone all “raised by wolves” on me, I tweaked my back yesterday mopping the floor in a rage equal to a Christian Bale Christmas morning, Otto spent the weekend barfing on every hand towel and absorbent surface in my house, my husband hates my hair in a bun and I love to wear it that way even though it makes me look like Ruth Buzzy, my parents are in jeopardy of losing their jobs at a top tier university that they have given their hearts and souls to because the top one percent fucked us all over with their mortgage crisis and illegal skull fucking of the economy, SNL has hit the skids again as the election is over and the funny has gone out of the room, I have no idea how to create a really cool website for this blog because my technical acumen rivals that of Andy Rooney’s ability to use an electric can opener, we should be hearing any time now if Otto got into a toddler program and then we’ll celebrate with a sobering conversation on how best to sell a body part to pay for the first year or if we can offer half hearted sexual favors in exchange for tuition fees and Otto’s second birthday is coming up and all I want to do is drink away these troubles under a tree at the playground as I enthusiastically consume a bottle of tequila and a store bought Elmo cupcake next to the homeless transsexual who lives four feet from the sandbox that no one seems to worry about (fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk).