Okay, I feel bad about what I said yesterday. I do like the kids I sit. I do. They're both very bright and the daughter is an amazing little artist and we have great fun when we color, draw or paint together.

But sometimes they just push me to that point. And yesterday was one of those days. It's just frustrating when you're supposed to be the "boss" and they act like you're not even there.

It's like Montego. She doesn't listen. I don't understand it. I can be standing right next to her saying "Inside!" but she'll just run back toward the fence or something.

One morning she got out and because I was quick I got out to the alley before she'd run down the road. I was standing over her, telling her to go inside, and she's looking and me and then boom she runs off. I was so to my point that I just screamed Fine! Run away! I don't care! And I stormed back inside. But then I grabbed a box of treats and enticed her back inside. But for a brief second, I didn't care if she ran away. I was so beyond frustrated.

And it's those kinds of moments, where I get a flash of the kind of mother I'll be, that scare me.

I just get so easily annoyed and if my own dog can make me crazy, what's my child going to do to me?

Blah. I don't want to think about it.

Y'all, my house is so clean. I love it when it's like this. It makes me happy to just be home and hang out and enjoy my things.

It had gotten so bad that I was just grossed out and depressed whenever I came home.

But I Swiffered (if you have hardwood floors and you don't have a Swiffer, shame of a thousand suns on you), dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed the kitchen, and did five loads of laundry. Five loads.

I hadn't done laundry since before L.A. and all my favorite clothes were in that basket.

But you know what? Generic color safe bleach is crap. Spend the extra dollar and get Clorox 2.

God, could I be any more boring?

Am I supposed to be talking about my partying and sexploits? That's why y'all come here, isn't it?

But I'm in that happy, sweet boy place right now and I couldn't even do it justice to write about it.

So maybe I'll give you a blast from the past.

I've never classified myself as a Wild Girl, but in retrospect I was. And she's popped back up a few times since college. Mostly when Mo and I go out with the intention to just let loose. We can get fairly nutty.

Like on our summer vacation when we ended up hanging out with the entire national Uruguayan soccer team. Only like two of them spoke English, but between their limited vocabulary, and my broken Spanish, we got along famously.

When Mo and I look at our photos from that vacation, we point to several of them and say - that's the shot they would've used on Unsolved Mysteries - Voice over: This is last known photo of the two Ohio twenty-four year olds before they disappeared from Downtown Disney. What happened on that clear August night in the happiest place on Earth?

Actually, this story just makes me look like a big, dumb floofy girl.

Going off to college in the mid-'90s, you get a lot of Don't Walk Alone, Use the Blue Lights, Date Rape, Don't Go Off Alone With a Guy You Just Met jive. And not that it's not necessary, because to some extent it is. (And that rhetoric is also why you'll never see a group of freshman girls smaller than 15.)

But anyway, I've had this driven into my head, and I live by it, mostly, but sometimes you're dumb. I've just been lucky that my dumb moves are just stupid, not dangerous. Yet.

So anyway, we met all these soccer players and we danced and had fun and when the bars closed they urged us to ride back to our hotel in their van. (And yes, it was white, but it had windows, and I think you see where this is going.)

I was protesting and saying "Vamos a autobus" or something, and Mo was 20 feet ahead of me, soccer boys on either side and I can just hear her giggling and saying, Come on! So I shrugged and said, "okay."

But see, the best part of the story is my okay. If you don't know me, it's just not funny. I said it like a total airhead, like OOoohkay!!! My friend Tom says it's funny because I have such an innocent face. So the big joke now, is like - "And then I'm going to tie you up and leave you in the cellar, where I'll come down and have my way with you." And I say - "Okay!"

So, Mo and I crack ourselves up, because you know this scene would've been reinacted on the crime show. And they'd have two blonde bimbos playing us, and the one girl would never be able to nail my "okay."

So, we climb into their van and I'm in the very back, squished between the bisexual and the guy I'd been dancing with, and Mo is sitting way up front, on the floor. She's trying to give directions. The driver spoke no English. We just keep shouting the name of our resort, like they're just supposed to know where it is.

And if you've never been to Disney World, trust me when I tell you that the roads are tree-lined and deserted; all the hotels are hidden away around corners or giant pines and every street sign looks the same.

So to me, it looked they were driving us to the swamps and I started to panic. And I have one guy's hand on my knee and another one whispering sweet Spanish nothings in my ear.

But of course, in true Hannah and Mo form we get to our hotel, where we proceed to go swimming, at 4 o'clock in the morning, with 10 or so Uruguayan soccer players.

We ran up to our room and changed into our suits and met them back at the pool, where they were all swimming in their European bikini underwear.

Mo lost her earrings and the bisexual's lover left early because I think he was jealous of all the attention we girls were getting.

Finally we convinced them that it was time to go, but not before one of them said: "I want to have sex with you. He wants to have sex with [Mo] and he (the bisexual) wants to have sex with everybody!"

It's probably funnier when you can hear my take on his accent.

Okay?