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2004-03-24 | 11:39 p.m.

I donít have anything on my mind, but I feel like writing anyway. Because I can.

It is our spring break, which means that my kids are doing nothing, as usual, but Iím not crabbing about it as much. My girls have discovered a site called, and Iím a bad parent because I know theyíre going there and yet I havenít pre-screened the siteís nineteen million low-quality video clips. I have watched a few clips at their behest, and I thought "Granny with a Big Dog" was worth watching three times in a row. The girlsí favorite today was "Wedding Dentures."

I am reading Tamora Pierceís latest, Tricksterís Choice. Actually, I need to do that now because itís overdue and I want to finish it. I have read all her books in order.

Duff is sitting on the bed beside me, curled up like a monkey, inspecting his manhood. He says it hurts. I told him he canít put it in me if thereís something wrong with it. He says it only started hurting today. Hmm. He'll be so mad if he finds out I wrote this.

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