There are only so many Irish songs, man.

The one truly spectacularly great thing about St. Patrick's day is that I love my bracelets I get to wear so anyone who tries to pinch me will end up punched in the face. [They're my green, bitches.] Since I've worked the 17th for the last forever and I'm not a drink-til-you-die type, this is as good as it'll get. Well, that and making about a buck fifty in change off the drunks who kept leaving their change. Doesn't sound like much until you take into consideration the fact that this is after it was split fairly even between the two of us working [so it's up to three bucks or so], and then there was the stuff that couldn't be split, so it's higher still.
Which is still a lot of change.

Yes, I'm trying to distract myself from something, how did you guess?

But first! Last night, on the way to work, I was channel surfing, and landed on wave and they were playing Welcome to the Black Parade, which isn't as awesome as Famous Last Words, but still happy making. The next song cycles on and my brain says, "YES! AFI!" Which is insane, I tell myself, cuz... that's not how my ride to work goes. A couple of seconds later I've managed to slide back into being completely positive that it's The Missing Frame. And it is. :D My brain churns out the, "Oh yeah, wasn't that set to be the third single?" Joy! I'm easily thrilled.

Of course, the song is only so long, so when it ended, I had to go right back to that unhappy place where I wish it were fine to just punch assholes in the face. Rinse and repeat.

While it has never been my goal to find myself in the middle of a country song, it appears I'm in the minority around here. You might recall the boy's former girlfriend [and mother of his spawn] has moved on and found a new baby daddy. One who is apparently as much of an ass as Princess... but worse! I know, I know. Take a moment to wrap your mind around this concept. Done?
Now for the proof. It appears that Ben took one look at the Widget with his festive beads wrapped around his neck [because he's five and they're shiny?] and snapped. He yanks Widget's beads from around his neck, and might I just say ouch to that, while commenting that only fags wear such things. Then! Then he chokes Widget's mummy with the beads, because that's not traumatic or WRONG at all!
So I've spent the last two days in this strange state of annoyance. You don't do that. Who even thinks that's okay, EVER? What part of your brain was seriously fried by a hockey puck to the skull for you to say, "Dude, I am totally justified!"? I'd like to find out... by opening your skull and smashing the tiny contents with whatever I have handy.
NYARGH. I so badly want to hunt this guy down and kick. his. ass. However, reality won't let me. I do know, however, that should I find myself anywhere near him and I'm aware of it, I will have to "speak" with him. And direct him to the boy for proof that maybe I'm not the person you want mad at you. Of course, having those two in the same room would be a bad, bad, bad idea.
You do not mess with my nephew. You do not hurt his mama, and you definitely don't go around acting like a complete ass by, I dunno, sharing what few thoughts your skull holds.

It's cold up here and I should actually get some sleep on time for once. There's only so much caffeine can do, y'know?

I think I shall go shopping tomorrow. I feel the need to buy obscene gobs of things I like, though possibly I'll also snag a pair of shoes. Something I need to offset the possible spending elsewhere.