Zombie Apocalypse If one came, I'd be fucked. I've just stubbed my big toe on my right foot and smashed my left knee into the table. Also, DemonChild has nicked all the best weapons in the house, including kitchen scissors and the big piece of wood I was saving for any unwanted visitors (other than spiders). So, when the undead hordes come shambling after us all, anybody want to team up with a clumsy, weapon less woman and a tooled up, kick ass eight year old?

Why My Daughter Is Slowly Sending Me Insane I just don't get it. I'm a pretty awesome mum. I treat my kid well. I'm fair, loving and all too often a total soft touch. I make sure she's fed, clothed and surrounded by all the latest "oh god mum I must have that or I shall wither away into a pathetic shell; a mere shadow of my former self. Look it sparkles!" toys/random useless shit. So why is it I'm about to give up and gibber in a corner? Because the living floor cannot be seen. It can't be seen because its covered in the aforementioned random must have shit and she isn't picking it up. Threaten to throw it away? She shrugs. Shout until my throat is bleeding? She's gone deaf. I'm off to find my floor, and hope that some random shit hasn't grouped together and formed an army intent on claiming any free carpet space as its territory.