Hell

I'm convinced there's a large spot in Hell solely devoted to moving, while woefully hungover, with 2 young children. I'm sure there are much worse things to experience in the fiery depths...like being on the bad end of a chili rainbow...but maybe the 'moving whilst hungover with kids' day in hell is the 'fun' day? Some new guy's complaining about how terrible it is to have to move with a splitting headache and nausea while juggling a 1 and 4 yr old - and you're thinking, 'Jesus, this guys has no idea; yesterday consisted of repeatedly wringing out and drinking the moisture from Rosie O'Donnell's wet socks after she'd spent a day at the air show,' this is sweet. Sometimes I'll catch myself envisioning hell, in a humorous sort of way, and realize, 'why am I always thinking about what Hell would be like when I'm not a bad person at all?' I mean, I'll probably never have to go back to Bakersfield again. BOOOOOOOOM!!!!