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My affair with Mr. Clean
10:09 p.m.

I know there's something wrong when I find myself wearing bright blue spandex, thigh-clinging biking shorts and an over sized t-shirt, sweating buckets under my armpits while I mop and its 10 o'clock PM. I have a major pain-in-the-ass English test in less than 12 hours and my sleeping time is slowly decreasing by the second, by the hour and I'm stuck mopping feeling like a $2 rip-off of Cinderella with out a fairy godmother. Oh, and add a four foot ten inch nagging mom to that who likes to nag her head off insisting that mopping the kitchen floor should have been my number one priority. Which interprets to "I don't care if you didn't do your homework, you forgot to eat all 3 meals, I don't care if you didn't have any clean underwear, I don't care I you're constipated. You just should have MOPPED, gawdamnit!!!!!!!!!! YOU STUPID CHILD! I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAULED YOUR FAT ASS IN MY STOMACH FOR THOSE WHOLE 9 MONTHS! YOU FUCKING NO GOOD LAZY ASS WORTHLESS BASTARD! YOU SHOULD HAVE MOPPED THE FLOOR!"

Ok, not really, but thats all that seemed to seep into my ears and into my mind as I mopped.

But you know how moms are. They like their floors clean.

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ABOUT
I'm G-R-A-C-E. I live in the burning pits of Suburbia Hell, Houston, TX. My social life's an utter bore, my love life ceases to exist, my bank account keeps shrinking, my waistline is constantly expanding.....

EVERYDAY IS A BAD HAIR DAY.

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People used to read this, but I'm not cool anymore.