i love my boy. he's such an unbelievably gifted smartass. at least give me a chance to feel sorry for you, he says. wonderful smartass . . . i said to him, on the way to the train station a few weeks ago, you know, if you wasn't my kid, i'd say fuck you right about now. my sweet child of a smart ass flips it right back and says, in his surly fuck-you tone, yea mom, like, i'm really glad i'm your kid right now. fuck! he's gettin good. where the hell did that come from?

i wonder what he's doin . . . i should catch up. it's been a coupla days.

friggin smartass

i hope you're readin this, boy. it's all about you.

she says, as she hears smartass in the background -- yea, mom, it's always all about me, didn't you know that?

where the hell does he get that from?