helllooooo bloggers.
something struck me yesterday.
facebook is quite the invention and I love it, generally speaking it allows me to post the goofy and ridiculous about my life online so that others may laugh at my expense. I do that all the time, I crack jokes on myself, make fun of any situation I'm in, and enjoy it.
After all, if you cant laugh at yourself, whom may you laugh with when the insane happens. I love sharing, even if it's at my expense.
However,
Ive noticed that some people put their WHOLE life stories on facebook, in an effort for others to feel sorry fo their situation.
Newsflash:
I dont care.
Nobody does.
Im sorry your car got reposessed. I'm sorry that you have the sniffles. But frankly, I could not give two monkey fucks. STOP putting that shit on facebook!! It's fucking dumb. You are dumb. Quit it.
And when something truly horrible happens. People are not gonna give a damn because it will just become another chapter in your horrible life.
Talk about funny things, random things. Topics others will enjoy and appreciate. GOOGLE A QUOTE FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. I performed an experiment last night, (I read the entire wall of four people from my newsfeed) and for quite a few young mothers, you're either not caring for your kids appropriately, or you need a better damn doctor. Why? Because those rugrats are sick everyother day. Do yourself a favor. Pull up your facebook wall. Read EVERY DAMN STATUS you have written for the past year, if it's all negative, if it's all about how sick you've been, or how your boyfriend/girlfriend is SO MEAN to you or you cant pay your bills. Kill yourself. Right now. Do it. I'm telling you to, because your life fucking sucks.
On that note, if you are still alive and reading this, please stop writing stupid, sad, woe-is-me facebook status updates. If your too chicken to take yourself out of your own misery, then I'm gonna tell you what my plan is for you. I'm gonna defriend you. Right now, as soon as I finish writing this blog. In fact, I might just defriend ANYONE who has a shitty facebook profile that doesnt either amuse, enrage or intrigue me. See you later bitches.
Have a nice day. :)
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
The psyche of Walmart and the punishments that await you.
Cracks me up, take a stroll in your neighborhood Walmart. You can probably pick out at least two or three couples who shouldnt be having children, yet they have a whole FLOCK of kids trailing them. An entire flock of miscreants who are breaking merchandise, wiping their snotty noses on anything within ten feet, fighting each other and generally being a pain in my ass.
As for me, my kids are contained. They are both loud and expressive, but that's cute on my kids. They wear that little aspect of themselves well. I dont generally bitch at them because if they piss me off, we go to the bathroom, where they get a stern "talking to" and maybe a whack or two.
Now, if your children are doing the following, they shouldnt be allowed in Walmart, and you shouldnt be allowed to reproduce.This is what I will do to you for the following actions.
1. Tearing merchandise off the shelves, breaking, rending anything unpurchaseable, the only thing that can make this worse is if I see YOU as the parent hiding the broken merchandise so you dont have to pay for it, trashy.I will follow you and speak in a loud, determined voice with the object you HID, and say "I THINK YOU DROPPED THIS!!! EXCUSE ME, YOU DROPPED THIS"
2. Touching my kids. Especially when you have snot running from your nose and into your mouth. I will break your face, you little shit. Also worse, if YOU as a parent touch my kids. I will take you out back and choke slam your nasty ass.
3. Having a bad-ass COACH purse and paying for food with EBT. Fuck you. Just. Fuck. You. Stop having kids, I'm paying for those fuckers. And I dont like your kids. So obviously, I'm not happy with my investment.
4. Refusing to take turns on the quarter car out front. Even when you dont have the change to actually ALLOW your child to sit on the car to RIDE it. I WILL patiently tap your shoulder til you get off your stupid ass cell phone and tell you to remove your child. Trust me, it's easier this way. You dont want me to remove your kid myself.
5. When your getting your nails done, in Walmart. And your child decides to follow me around. Probably touching or talking to my kids (refer to bullet 2), I WILL, I PROMISE, I will meet you with your child when you FINALLY find him/her and demand cash for babysitting. When you dont give it to me, I will report you to the nearest sales associate for neglect. :)
6. When your child is misbehaving in Walmart. Rather then do the classy thing and take them to the bathroom for discipline, you decide to have a WWE wrestling match in the middle of the electronic department. I will immediately pick up the phone that connects to the overhead PA system and announce the following "GET YOUR TICKETS NOW, WHITE TRASH THROWDOWN IN ELECTRONICS, IF YOU WANNA SEE SOME NASTY SPAWN AND NASTIER BABY-MAKERS, REPORT TO ELECTRONICS NOW!!!!"
This list is pending, more to come. Although I'll be avoiding Walmart for the reasons listed above. So dont count on it.
As for me, my kids are contained. They are both loud and expressive, but that's cute on my kids. They wear that little aspect of themselves well. I dont generally bitch at them because if they piss me off, we go to the bathroom, where they get a stern "talking to" and maybe a whack or two.
Now, if your children are doing the following, they shouldnt be allowed in Walmart, and you shouldnt be allowed to reproduce.This is what I will do to you for the following actions.
1. Tearing merchandise off the shelves, breaking, rending anything unpurchaseable, the only thing that can make this worse is if I see YOU as the parent hiding the broken merchandise so you dont have to pay for it, trashy.I will follow you and speak in a loud, determined voice with the object you HID, and say "I THINK YOU DROPPED THIS!!! EXCUSE ME, YOU DROPPED THIS"
2. Touching my kids. Especially when you have snot running from your nose and into your mouth. I will break your face, you little shit. Also worse, if YOU as a parent touch my kids. I will take you out back and choke slam your nasty ass.
3. Having a bad-ass COACH purse and paying for food with EBT. Fuck you. Just. Fuck. You. Stop having kids, I'm paying for those fuckers. And I dont like your kids. So obviously, I'm not happy with my investment.
4. Refusing to take turns on the quarter car out front. Even when you dont have the change to actually ALLOW your child to sit on the car to RIDE it. I WILL patiently tap your shoulder til you get off your stupid ass cell phone and tell you to remove your child. Trust me, it's easier this way. You dont want me to remove your kid myself.
5. When your getting your nails done, in Walmart. And your child decides to follow me around. Probably touching or talking to my kids (refer to bullet 2), I WILL, I PROMISE, I will meet you with your child when you FINALLY find him/her and demand cash for babysitting. When you dont give it to me, I will report you to the nearest sales associate for neglect. :)
6. When your child is misbehaving in Walmart. Rather then do the classy thing and take them to the bathroom for discipline, you decide to have a WWE wrestling match in the middle of the electronic department. I will immediately pick up the phone that connects to the overhead PA system and announce the following "GET YOUR TICKETS NOW, WHITE TRASH THROWDOWN IN ELECTRONICS, IF YOU WANNA SEE SOME NASTY SPAWN AND NASTIER BABY-MAKERS, REPORT TO ELECTRONICS NOW!!!!"
This list is pending, more to come. Although I'll be avoiding Walmart for the reasons listed above. So dont count on it.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
the day after
When you become a mother, God stops smiling down on you. Just kidding. Let me rephrase. When you drink, and you are a mother, God stops smiling down on you. Since I had my girls, I'm a horrible light-weight when it comes to alcohol. I mean, one margarita makes me laugh too loud, sing at inopportune moments, and hug the wait staff. (Which I kinda like about myself? Who knew?)
Which brings me to this weekend. One of my very dearest friends was married yesterday. I was the matron of honor. Which carries sooome stress, if only for the simple fact that you want your best friend's wedding to be fucking fantastic, the rain NOT to stop by, pictures to be perfect, everyone to remain stain free, etc etc etc. So of course, when everything went smoothly, and the wedding culiminated into a throbbing mass of people (old, young, pretty, ugly, skinny, fat, ALL THE PEOPLE) gettin down on the dance floor, I was overjoyed. To celebrate how over-joyed I had become, I drank. And drank. And drank a little more. Champagne, wine, beer, fuck it!! PASS ME THE BEER BONG PLEASE.
Oh no, I dont have two little girls to care for in the morning. Two loud, expressive, in your face, MOMMY GET THE HELL OVER HERE, little girls.
Sike, I do.
Which brings me to my first thought this morning. "What the fuck were you thinking last night?".
Splitting headache, nausea and subsequent leave me the hell alone attitude quickly following that first thought.
What the fuck happened moms? In college I frequently stayed out til four in the morning (PISS DRUNK), went to work the next day, then went to class AFTER work, then went BACK to the bar AFTER class. All while maintaining decent grades, a boyfriend and a thousand fucking AWESOME friends!!! I made EVERYONE happy.
Then I had children.
And THIS happens? The first huge drunk bash was for my best friend's birthday following my daughters' births. We drank, I passed out UNDER a hotel cot, and generally dont remember most of the evening. Although my lovely girlfriends have photograph proof of what occurred. At some point I passed out ON a DINER TABLE. The next day was a family dinner, and when I say "FAMILY" dinner, I mean the whole fucking family. My mother was spoon feeding me mashed potatoes in my grandmother's bed. Seriously?? I'm fucking pathetic.
Then she spoke the phrase that doomed me. She said and I quote "Baby, God doesnt make it easy for mommy's to drink very much. Keep that in mind next time you go out for a cocktail."
Fuck me.
Which brings me to this weekend. One of my very dearest friends was married yesterday. I was the matron of honor. Which carries sooome stress, if only for the simple fact that you want your best friend's wedding to be fucking fantastic, the rain NOT to stop by, pictures to be perfect, everyone to remain stain free, etc etc etc. So of course, when everything went smoothly, and the wedding culiminated into a throbbing mass of people (old, young, pretty, ugly, skinny, fat, ALL THE PEOPLE) gettin down on the dance floor, I was overjoyed. To celebrate how over-joyed I had become, I drank. And drank. And drank a little more. Champagne, wine, beer, fuck it!! PASS ME THE BEER BONG PLEASE.
Oh no, I dont have two little girls to care for in the morning. Two loud, expressive, in your face, MOMMY GET THE HELL OVER HERE, little girls.
Sike, I do.
Which brings me to my first thought this morning. "What the fuck were you thinking last night?".
Splitting headache, nausea and subsequent leave me the hell alone attitude quickly following that first thought.
What the fuck happened moms? In college I frequently stayed out til four in the morning (PISS DRUNK), went to work the next day, then went to class AFTER work, then went BACK to the bar AFTER class. All while maintaining decent grades, a boyfriend and a thousand fucking AWESOME friends!!! I made EVERYONE happy.
Then I had children.
And THIS happens? The first huge drunk bash was for my best friend's birthday following my daughters' births. We drank, I passed out UNDER a hotel cot, and generally dont remember most of the evening. Although my lovely girlfriends have photograph proof of what occurred. At some point I passed out ON a DINER TABLE. The next day was a family dinner, and when I say "FAMILY" dinner, I mean the whole fucking family. My mother was spoon feeding me mashed potatoes in my grandmother's bed. Seriously?? I'm fucking pathetic.
Then she spoke the phrase that doomed me. She said and I quote "Baby, God doesnt make it easy for mommy's to drink very much. Keep that in mind next time you go out for a cocktail."
Fuck me.
why I love my kids, but hate your kids.
I dont generally like children.
Think what you want, but I fucking LOVE my children.
I just dont like yours. oops. That slipped out.
When I was in high school and college I took care of lots of children, I was the fucking QUEEN of under-the-table child-care.
My point is, people ask me all the time to get together for "play dates". How do you tell someone that their kid will probably harass the fucking dog shit out of you and by the end of purported "play date", you will cease being friends? I cant stand whining, if the child bothers my children, they and probably I will take him/her out. My kids actually have very few child friends. The one or two they have I hold onto with both hands because they have character, they dont whine, they dont sit around eating junk food all day, they dont spit when they talk and generally, they are adorable. So, thanks anyway, but my children have enough friends. Not only do they have one another (they are twins), but they have me. And I'm the coolest fucking friend around. I can drive. I can buy beer. I. AM. FUCKING. AWESOME.
Moral of the story. Dont ask me on playdates. Because when I refuse, you will know the truth about your kid. They are fucking annoying and being around them at all is an exercise in self-control because all I wanna do is throw them in a ditch and sic my kids on them. And yes, my baby girls are much like myself. :) Good day bloggers.
Think what you want, but I fucking LOVE my children.
I just dont like yours. oops. That slipped out.
When I was in high school and college I took care of lots of children, I was the fucking QUEEN of under-the-table child-care.
My point is, people ask me all the time to get together for "play dates". How do you tell someone that their kid will probably harass the fucking dog shit out of you and by the end of purported "play date", you will cease being friends? I cant stand whining, if the child bothers my children, they and probably I will take him/her out. My kids actually have very few child friends. The one or two they have I hold onto with both hands because they have character, they dont whine, they dont sit around eating junk food all day, they dont spit when they talk and generally, they are adorable. So, thanks anyway, but my children have enough friends. Not only do they have one another (they are twins), but they have me. And I'm the coolest fucking friend around. I can drive. I can buy beer. I. AM. FUCKING. AWESOME.
Moral of the story. Dont ask me on playdates. Because when I refuse, you will know the truth about your kid. They are fucking annoying and being around them at all is an exercise in self-control because all I wanna do is throw them in a ditch and sic my kids on them. And yes, my baby girls are much like myself. :) Good day bloggers.
my hatred of technology
how upsetting, my ENTIRE intro to blogdom post is gone because blogger "lost my website". I have finally decided to blog and share all about how simply hilarious life can be as a mother, wife and citizen of humanity. and blogger gives me a big "fuck you". however, lucky me, i happen to have my most recent post simply because i refuse to log out of any program on my computer. I will post this now and hope that it doesnt get "lost" again. here is an F U right back at blogger.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)