the only thing i want is for my mom to be happy

and yet this Christmas, like every Christmas she sends more packages and more gifts to us than we give to each other.

always good things.

always things i wear forever.

always things i love.

last night i went to bed early and woke up in the middle of the night somewhere around 420am. when i get four hours of sleep my body thinks thats all i want so i know im doomed for the rest of the night so i turned on the maladorian and started wrapping amber’s gifts.

even though im broke i met a guy across the river and did a favor for him. in return he told me i could purchase a laptop computer for amber at a deep discount.

believe it or not the favor was to do some SEO work for their company’s website.

but as soon as i started wrapping her gift, i hear her stumble to the bathroom and then slowly walk to the living room. i hastily hid the computer and took off my pants in front of her.

that image worked to perfection and she retreated back to slumber.

currently im reading the autobiography of ted templeman who loved jazz as a teen in the 1950s and went on to produce a slew of Doobie Brothers albums in the ’70s before producing all of Van Halen’s records and then later Aerosmith, Cheap Trick, and Joan Jett.

he starts off talking about his dad and uncles who had such a horrible life that it makes you ashamed for ever complaining about anything. i havent had an arm blown off. i havent been taken prisoner. boo hoo kris rebah didnt wanna go to the seventh grade dance with me, ted templeman’s dad had to eat spiders to stay alive and gave raw meat to a monkey to see if it would die. and if it didnt, mr templeman would eat the horrid meat.

eighth grade would be better.

and eighty-eighth grade would be better than ever.

suck it up, whiner, the next chapter will more than make up for this one.

and then i can get my momma better presents than she gets me.