Title TK

Ed. Note: Although we received a draft of a new blog post for this week, it has turned out to be nothing more than completely incoherent gibberish. If we did not know any better, it would appear to have been composed by candlelight with a broken crayon, after a four-day, meth-induced jaunt of vicious debauchery and complete sleeplessness.

It would seem that the author may have gone off the rails due to the exacting pressures of keeping a newborn child alive, as well as the side effects of general sleep deprivation. But don’t worry. We’re sure the situation will turn around. Eventually. Keep watching this space for further dispatches from the frontline of new parenthood. Coming soon. We promise. We think.

Honestly, though, we think he may have been inebriated or something when he was writing, we can’t really think of any other reasonable explanation, but at the same time we cannot be certain and we definitely don’t want to pass judgment, but really, seriously, who drinks like that when they have a newborn child in their care? What kind of person does that?

Okay, maybe you can be the judge. Most of what we got was just a random (and repetitive) assortment of notes and keywords (at least, that’s what we think this is): Sleep. Diapers. Diapers. Sleep. Poop. Lightning McQueen. Poop. Sleep. Stab my eyeballs. Filthy, dirty urchins. Lazy. Useless. Dirty. Food everywhere. War of attrition. F’ing McQueen! Why do people think this is funny? Beer. Binky. Binky. Swaddle. Binky. Beer. Poop. Noise. Screaming. Death. Sweet relief. How awesome is Girls? Somebody kill me. Diapers!

Again, we apologize for the technical difficulties. And we assure you that we will have it all sorted out by next week. Or the week after. Or possibly in 17 years and 10 months.

As always, thank you for reading. And . . . good day.