I don't feel like talking about what happened on Saturday. I may never. It was enough to live through it. Sometimes I might feel like talking about how my sanity was strewn across the floor like Booie's stuffed animals and how I went fucking nuts and scraped my knuckles when I hit the wall and scared my kids and hid in the basement with no lights on. Right now, I've said more than enough. I wish I had something funny happy to me this weekend.