In need of an exorcism

Jenna, this post is for you, and let me just say this: Your Gamma put me up to it. "She can read it when she's older!" she said. Well, we all know that by the time you're "older" the internet as we know it will be archaic, as will this form of blogging, but let's humor Gamma, shall we?

I'm writing this entry under the influence of many cups of caffeine. "Why?" you may wonder--well, let me tell you: YOU, my dear, are a PAIN. IN. THE. ASS. Oh, yes...YOU. My beautiful, jade-eyed, long-lashed, drop-dead gorgeous, precious girl--I'm beginning to think that you're the spawn of satan. Let me give you a quick replay of last night:

Dinner: you were bad
Bathtime: you were bad
Early bedtime: you were bad
3 hours past your bedtime: Care to guess? YES. You were bad.
One o'clock in the morning: ding! ding! You were bad.
630am this morning: you were bad.

Need I say more? Probably not, but indeed, I shall go on.

The fake crying. Oh, sweet baby Jesus! I cannot stand it. I swear, last night, I was toying with the thought of shoving a My Little Pony down my esophagus just to take my mind off the incessant whining. OH. THE. WHINING. What I find to be perfectly amazing, is that you can whine for hours on end. HOURS. (Sorry about all the caps, but it's necessary.) Why, like any normal person, do you not get hoarse?! At least that would take down the tone a notch.

Let me just say this: So help me God, you WILL sleep tonight.

I digress.