I am angered and disgusted at the state of my downstairs family room and the adjoining toy room. The girlies are maniacs who have no concept of order.

I have a very clear concept of order. I am greatly disturbed.

But it's not just the toys. It's not just that Christmas is coming (Ack Ack ACK ack -- sorry, I gagged a bit) with its onslaught of crap, crap and MORE crap.

It's hearing this from my mother: "Do you still have the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin characters? You don't see them anymore. Don't throw those out."

Really, mom? Because all of their hands fell off. None of them have hands. I think Linus has one, and that's because nobody cared for him very much. I'm throwing the damn things away. Tonight. Viva la Revolution!

And I don't think she has one stinking thing to say about it. She threw out my Donny and Marie dolls. Donny even came with little purple socks, which by some miracle I never lost. They're gone. You don't see them very much these days, either.

Oh, Dilf's family's hands are not clean, either. His mom loves two sources of my discontent: garage sales and the dollar store. I have approximately 5,238,895 little plastic dollar store animals. They're going out the door. Tonight.

Also on their way to the landfill: any and all toys that came inside a cereal box or with a happy meal. Goodbye, crap from Taiwan!

And no matter what sentimental value a thing has, if it's broken, it's history. Ditto any stuffed animal that has not been played with for a year or more. It won't be missed. In fact, if it's in pristine condition, which many are, they are getting donated.

Some good has to come from all this chaos and confusion. I'm taking my downstairs living areas back.