Writer's Block

I am trying to write, but am unable to. It could be because of my long day of laundry, cleaning and cooking, which left me tired. Or, it could be the shootout I hear in my living room which is interjected by an occasional "Huh, huh," that closely resembles the chuckles of Beavis and Butthead coming through the tiny headset my husband is wearing as he plays Grand Theft Auto.

It sounds like the Valentine's Day Massacre in here. And you haven't lived until you hear your husband say to his buddies, "I just screwed a hooker then shot her and took her money." Yes, I'm serious. Apparently you can't win the game without doing that a few times. Lovely.

And to add to the realistic atmosphere of the game, you can turn the radio on in the car you steal and change the stations, which even play commercials. And one radio station in the game sounds horrifically similar to a certain popular hip-hop station out of NYC that gets on my last nerve. The DJs and announcers of said station are grammatically impaired, and the show hosts are as ignorant as a bag of onions. I try my hardest to avoid the station in my own car, but luck would have it that I have to hear its reincarnate on my TV.

Screw this. I'm going to sleep.