Cranky.
Crankycrankycrankycrankyasamuthafucka.
I can't begin to compare the level of frustration I'm sporting this morning, to anything. My similies and metaphors are broken.
I'm spinning in rather dizzing circles, over and over and OVER again, and have yet to figure out how to get the fuck OFF this particular ride.
Why is it, when we're little, we assume that everything will be fine, when we are "GROWN UP"?
Being a grown up SUCKS.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Ambassador from the Land of Weird...
..I am not.
I am not, your opportunity to inquire about how much tattoos cost, how many I have, if you may see them, and if they hurt, while on a field trip with my son.
I am not, your chance to find out how exactly all us "freaks" get our hair to be multiple colors at the same time.
I am not your friend, I am a fellow parent on a school field trip, with my 4 year old son, to the local train museum. I am there to spend time with the Fruit of My Loins, not to answer your questions about the stickers on the back of the Machine Of Evil, (which, incidentally, how do you know which car is MINE??), or debate whether or not, Emily the Strange, constitutes anime.
I am not the local attraction at the carnival, and frankly y'all, if I'm your barometer of weird, you need to get out more.
I am not, your opportunity to inquire about how much tattoos cost, how many I have, if you may see them, and if they hurt, while on a field trip with my son.
I am not, your chance to find out how exactly all us "freaks" get our hair to be multiple colors at the same time.
I am not your friend, I am a fellow parent on a school field trip, with my 4 year old son, to the local train museum. I am there to spend time with the Fruit of My Loins, not to answer your questions about the stickers on the back of the Machine Of Evil, (which, incidentally, how do you know which car is MINE??), or debate whether or not, Emily the Strange, constitutes anime.
I am not the local attraction at the carnival, and frankly y'all, if I'm your barometer of weird, you need to get out more.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
The question was posed....
...just when, exactly, is it acceptable, to correct another person's child?
My immediate thoughts were, "whenever the little asshole is being a shithead".
Not very mature, but bear with me.
I am well aware that I am not what "normal" motherhood, supposedly looks like. I have tattoos that number in the double digit range, a few piercings, am almost abnormally fond of black clothing and black eyeliner, and feel naked without boots on. However, I have been da'momma for almost 11 years now. If I can be bothered to teach my children good manners, "Please" and "Thank you", in between sacrificing chickens in my basement, the least you can do, is correct your little goddamn enormous seven-year-old future felon of America, when he's sent my 4 year old sprawling, since he was silly enough not to realize that huge ass doughboys, don't HAVE to wait in line.
I am so damn tired of other parents, and this applies across the board, mothers and fathers are equally to blame, not teaching their children basic people skills. If one more little asshole bangs her charming, child-size shopping cart into the back of my leg, while her mother chats on her cell phone, in line in the store, I just may completely lose it, and have to be pulled out of the store in a straight jacket, screaming, "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SAY EXCUSE ME, AND IT ISN'T POLITE TO BE AN ASSHOLE!".
When did we decide that "please", "thank you", and "excuse me", were obsolete? Why is it, that basic grammar skills escape us? I, who cannot begin to claim the "Grammar Queen" title, still know enough, to teach my children, it's "please MAY I", not "please CAN I".
Why is it, that the parents who pay the least amount of attention to their child's behavior, are the loudest, most obnoxious ones when someone else takes the time to correct them, seeing as how they've managed to draw blood?
Control your little shitheads already! drreid-blockston@cavtel.net
My immediate thoughts were, "whenever the little asshole is being a shithead".
Not very mature, but bear with me.
I am well aware that I am not what "normal" motherhood, supposedly looks like. I have tattoos that number in the double digit range, a few piercings, am almost abnormally fond of black clothing and black eyeliner, and feel naked without boots on. However, I have been da'momma for almost 11 years now. If I can be bothered to teach my children good manners, "Please" and "Thank you", in between sacrificing chickens in my basement, the least you can do, is correct your little goddamn enormous seven-year-old future felon of America, when he's sent my 4 year old sprawling, since he was silly enough not to realize that huge ass doughboys, don't HAVE to wait in line.
I am so damn tired of other parents, and this applies across the board, mothers and fathers are equally to blame, not teaching their children basic people skills. If one more little asshole bangs her charming, child-size shopping cart into the back of my leg, while her mother chats on her cell phone, in line in the store, I just may completely lose it, and have to be pulled out of the store in a straight jacket, screaming, "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SAY EXCUSE ME, AND IT ISN'T POLITE TO BE AN ASSHOLE!".
When did we decide that "please", "thank you", and "excuse me", were obsolete? Why is it, that basic grammar skills escape us? I, who cannot begin to claim the "Grammar Queen" title, still know enough, to teach my children, it's "please MAY I", not "please CAN I".
Why is it, that the parents who pay the least amount of attention to their child's behavior, are the loudest, most obnoxious ones when someone else takes the time to correct them, seeing as how they've managed to draw blood?
Control your little shitheads already! drreid-blockston@cavtel.net
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