The other day I was going off to The Pilot about how my parents and family have been extremely neglectful lately by not calling or texting me and the promises of them visiting us in our cool, new place had seemingly been forgotten.
And right around the time The Pilot opened his mouth and was sort of telling me that "Hey, you can pick up the phone and call them or text them too, ya know. You're kind of being neglectful of them too." I kind of had a light bulb go off in my head so I pushed at his face until he shut up and was like "Dude, I'm been a horrible blog parent. Those blog kids of mine? They are most likely all dead. DEAD! Dead before I had a chance to remember their names and promise them birthday gifts that I have no plan on ever sending."
And that was the time my guilt drove me back to my blog to write this. Are you all dead children? Have I killed you by being a bad Blog Parent? Do you blame Film School for your parents divorce and the fact that No, this year you will not be getting double Christmas presents because your parents got divorced because SURPRISE! Your parents didn't get a divorce. They decided they'll be partners in bitterness until you grow up, get a job and stop being disappointment. Are you happy now?
Now that we've got that out of the way, we can all be friends again. Right? Right?
On a lighter note, I took my dog on a picnic and when I was just thinking to myself "What a great fucking pet owner am I? I took the asshole out on a picnic, brought him treats and water and set up a great little picnic area!" the dog took a giant shit on my picnic blanket and then I packed it up and went home crying.
I was sitting right next to him when he did that.
So in other news, the dogs still an asshole.