My daughter has become this inane whiner. I have to listen to this whining all day long to the point where it becomes a sort of Chinese water torture. Eeeeeh, cookie. Eeeeeh, duice. Eeeehh, mamamamama! Oy, my head. I try to combat it, but unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about it since she’s only one. Still, as Super Nanny says, the best way to instill good behavior is to “lead by example”. Well, let me tell you, its not so easy to be the ever perfect shining role model. In these past months since she has turned one, I have never said “please” and “thank you" so much in my life. Well, she’s in bed now and I am free to let me hair down. It’s my turn to whine, goddamn it! Believe me, I know all too well how utterly annoying it is, so I apologize ahead of time for what I am about to do.

Sniff, sniff. I want new hard wood floors. I want them desperately! I hate the stupid ugly battered pieces of crap floors we have. Hate ‘em, hate ‘em hate ‘em! My house looks like a shit hole no matter how hard I clean. I get depressed every time I look around and see that gnarly turquoise painted wood spewing out from under the lovely rugs I so desperately try to hide them with. They are everywhere, I tell you, like omnipresent monsters poking their atrociously chipped and stained ridden heads out at and laughing at me. Belly laughing right in my face everywhere I look!

“Nya Nya, you can’t cover us up! Ha Ha, you can’t get rid of us. Look! We’re, over here! And over there! And Yoohoo! We’re even over here! Ha Ha! Your poor sorry ass will never escape our aesthetic hell.” (insert demonic cackling here)

Yeah, I know we made a joint decision not to do any remodeling over $500 dollars this year. I made the bloddy rule, for heaven's sake! Me and my financially responsible bullshit self, that is. My husband only yessed me to death to shut me up, and now I have to live with this insane rule, under these horrible conditions. It’s not fair, I tell ya, it’s just not fair! We work so hard, we should have lovely cherry hard wood floors for our daughter to walk on. Oh how I want ‘em. I want ‘em, I want ‘em! Why can’t I have them? Why can’t I have them NOW! I swear I will save three times as much next year. And, I will take good care of them, I promise. I will mop them, dust them and wipe up spills immediately. Please, oh please, can I have them?

OK. I’m done my whining. I'm glad I got that out of my system. I can totally see why Piper does it. It’s almost instinctual. I mean, so what if my whining is completely ineffective and rude, I do feel much better for now.

Wacky Side Note: spell check desperately tried to change yessed to yeasted. Huh? Would that be yeasted as in, “Quick, pass me the Monistat! I’ve been yeasted!” Good thing I was actually paying attention this time and didn’t let it do its thing. Imagine: “My husband only yeasted me to death to shut me up...” Nice. Real nice.