Little bastard keeps slipping his mask. It sounds like a turbo-jet backwash in the baby monitor when that happens. I wake, from REM sleep, and stumble in to adjust him. I wonder at how this will affect his future, he having a giant, in the dark, manipulating his head and face while he sleeps.
The upside is, I got to see Tanya Roberts masturbating on a fake zebra. You have got to go rent Sheena: Queen Of The Jungle, just to watch the closing credit scene. I bet her crotch was black for weeks from all the dye she rubbed off on.
Just a curiousity: why do athiests think you give a fuck what they think? Is it part of the disorder? Have any of you seen me go haunt an athiest's blog, craving attention? Gosh, they are needy. Seeking a Father Figure, no doubt.
I'm going back to bed...