IT'S INSIDE ME: If you don't read James Lileks' Bleat, you should. Here's an excerpt from today's that mirrors a thought I've had many times.

“You took her to a haunted house?” I said.

Gnat insisted on it, my wife said. The Big Kids were going, and she wanted to go with the Big Kids. "And if the other mothers were throwing their kids off the cliff," I huffed, "would you -"

"It was a children’s haunted house."

Oh, great. Gummi intestines, spilled from Hello Kitty’s torn abdomen? But no. It was all quite mild. Gnat was a bit nervous, but thrilled, and it made an impression on her. I don’t want to tell her she has a skeleton inside her, though; she’d never go to sleep.

Hell, that freaks ME out.

Me too.



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