This has been a dismal month for posting. Not that I'm apologizing or anything. Finals are over. We bought a condo. Not just any condo: This one has a dishwasher, and not the kind that wears an apron and only works when music is playing. But then I upped the ante and replaced the gross, old dishwasher that came with the place and installed a nearly new, state-of-the-art one that didn't smell like cheese or feet. But not before I flooded the kitchen. Seriously, I did. But that's all in the past now. I'm a new man. A wiser man. A man who double-checks that the hot water valve is completely closed before disconnecting it from an old dishwasher.This place is a huge upgrade over our 700-square-foot, 1940s-era apartment that we just left. This one is from the 1970s. Not only did it come with a dishwasher, but a disposal, fans in the bathrooms, grounded electrical outlets, central air, creaky stairs, and an HOA fee. Oh, and an oven that has a light in it. We never had that before.
It has finally happened. Bratz dolls have been banned. The manufacturer, MGA, can't make them any more. Unfortunately, it wasn't because they're stupid, pointless, little [expletive deleted to retain mom-friendliness], but because the asshat who "invented" them (probably to live out some sick fantasy) actually came up with the idea while working for Mattel.
I'm about to make one of my generalized statements, but in this case, it's completely true: If you ever buy a Bratz doll for your kid then you are an idiot and you probably drive a Land Rover. Zing!
