Video is unrelated. So, how was your week? We had our epic garage sale, part deux, today, and it was actually about twice as profitable as last week's bullshit installment. Yay. Time to dump the brain.

1. The mail came during my garage sale. There was a check, apparently a property tax refund. For about $370. Yay! I like money!

2. I hate garage sales now. People coming up and judging your crap that you're trying to get rid of. DON'T JUDGE! Your crap is just as crappy.

3. I missed Fuck off Friday this week, so FUCK THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER INTO A THOUSAND HELLS. WHY DOES EVERY AWESOME THING, LIKE DIA DE LOS TOADIES AND CENTRAL MARKET BEERFEST HAVE TO HAPPEN IN THE MONTH WHEN I HAVE NO FUCKING MONEY BECAUSE OF THE WAY I GET PAID?

4. ALSO, FUCK YOU JOHNNY FOOTBALL. I GAVE YOU ONE JOB: HUMILIATE 'BAMA. AND DID YOU DO IT? NO! I'M OFF YOUR FUCKING BANDWAGON, YOU TWERP.

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5. I've been wearing a fedora a lot lately, mostly so that I can avoid people who judge others based solely on their headgear. I did a little research, and it's actually a trilby hat. Oh, and some random guy told me his 15-year-old "made" him spend $40 on one like the one I have (probably not inspired by me). Yeah, my mother in law bought it at hobby lobby for like 6 bucks.

6. We tried to get this huge fucking china hutch into the garage sale area. It's on my front porch still. I don't think anyone would have bought it any way. Seriously, fuck garage sales.

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7. I had lunch with my mom last week, and it was somehow not a horribly awkward, painful experience. Had some decent Kung Pao chicken too, which is always good.

8. The last few nights, I've been just exhausted at the end of the day. I suppose it's normal to be tired and drifting off to sleep at 11 at night, but I've always had trouble falling asleep. But Thursday night, I was falling asleep during the Jets/Pats game, which, granted, was about as interesting as the World Series of Paint Drying, but still. Makes me remember how my dad used to fall asleep on the couch, and mom would wake him up to let him know it was time to go to bed, and that was how she found him when he died 15 years ago. Fuck, that turned depressing fast.

9. Okay, lets try to salvage this: my 15 month old has the greatest running posture: as my MIL has pointed out, he runs like how a guy runs when he's imitating a "sissy" run. He holds his arms close to him and has his hands up in the air. And he does this with so much confidence, which I love him for so much: "Haters," he seems to say "are going to hate."