The Computer Demons are Conspiring Against Me.

There is some trick. Some evil, dastardly, beyond heinous keystroke that is PLANTED in my computer by some evil hijacker poltergeist hacker straight from the pits of hell. I know it. I'm aware. I will oust you, bastard! I will shake you from the realms of my sanity and rebuke you to the ends of the earth.

Consider it done. Am now going to thoroughly google and swagbuck holistic methods for exorcising demons from the midst of my computer.

Oh, and here's what it did, in case you are wondering, or I don't know, want to tell me how to stop it...IT EATS MY MOST BRILLIANT WORDS. Picture it, I'm typing feverishly, really attune to my thoughts, which of course makes it an absolute RIOT, and then the ENTIRE TEXT of the blog post highlights in blue and

****POOF****

It's gone. Bloody freaking hell.

I had a great (and hysterical!!!!!!!) freaking post written about how I'm trapped under my sleeping baby and can't go exercise and do all the other things I'd like to do (including investigating the sonic booms coming from my backyard) and I can't because every time I even move, she screams like I'm killing her.

And it was funny and witty and bloody well done. And now it just sounds like I'm whining.

Now, I want the name of the computer programmer that made this little bit of fun. Promptly. I've got a few choice words for them, too.

And another weekend gone in a blink!

MissAngelLittle girl is snoring. On the couch. Next to me. And I'm taking the opportunity to poke the blog with a sharp stick so it doesn't die of neglect and boredom.

It was a good weekend. I spent it cleaning. (I'm surprised the world didn't end.) Entering giveaways...see the post below this one, making a chocolate souffle, which is ridiculously easy for all the bad press that it gets. I add a cap full of lemon juice to the egg whites in this recipe...which doesn't call for cream of tartar.

Cream of tartar is life insurance for souffles, but I keep forgetting to buy it. It's an acid, so I added a cap full of acid. It works. The souffle was yummy. And now I'm out of eggs.

But I got to try out my new hand mixer, which is a kitchen aid, and really exciting because I've always wanted a kitchen aid. I think I'm going to beg them to send me a stand mixer to review. I mean, Um, pitch them. Yeah, that's it. Pitch them.

Begging could be conceived as unprofessional.

Marginally.