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Tag Archives: kids

The old woman in the shoe needs to stop fucking.

I have no idea if this is even medically possible, but, does there come a point where a woman’s lady parts just fall out and scurry out the door like a deranged rat from ill use?

This may be dirty, but not how you think.

I am talking about childbirth.

And I am not even targeting the easy one. The tv show, 19 And Counting.

I am talking about a true reality show going on at El Pollo Loco right now.

You could hear this family before they hit the front door.

Some people teach their kids to be polite in public and not scream an some don’t.

I would like you to meet Ms. Some Don’t.

You might think 13 children might be too many for one person to handle.

And you would be right.

Mrs. Some Don’t does not appear to have a lot of personal skills, like child rearing or discipline, herself or the kids.

However, she can lay prone and kiick out children like a motherfucker.

Watching the woman try to order and keep her kids from killing each other or burning the El Pollo Loco to the ground is like watching a blind man with down syndrome trying to herd kittens.

It stopped being amusing 5 seconds after the first one came thru the door.

I don’t see a wedding ring, so I can only assume that this is a solo adventure.

Feminists will tell you that a woman does not need a partner to have a child.

Can it be done by one person?

Sure.

But, to quote Chris Rock, you can drive your car with your feet if you want to, but that doesn’t make it a good fucking idea.

And then, the part that really pissed me off happened.

She is paying for lunch for her pack of rudeness with WIC.

Welfare, for those who don’t know.

Great, I am paying for this little production of Our Town. Awesome. (It may take a village, but get off your ass.)

I realize this will piss some of you off, that I am not celebrating the joy of life and the new American Dream.

Where everything is free, except for those of us who pay taxes, we’re the suckers that get to pay for room, board, medical, and college for anyone and everyone.

Fine, call me a rotten bastard, I stopped caring 2 weeks after I started this blog. If video games desensitize you to violence then this blog has desensitized me to holding my tongue and not screaming BULLSHIT when I see it.

I am a firm believer in carrying your own weight, and if you can’t afford something, don’t put yourself in that situation. Wipe your own ass.

I can only imagine the shit storm of hate mail I will get from this.

(And if you think I am kidding, consider the fact that I got 14 emails over my use of the phrase “Unholy bitch” a few weeks ago. Whining fucking maggots…)

As I write this, a total of 4 kids have been kicked out of the kitchen and two were involved in a salsa fight over at the condiments bar.

Mom has yet to open her mouth or chastise anyone.

My mother would have beat my ass for the antics I am witnessing.

I wonder if I could talk my mom into heading over here and beating the ass off of Ms. Some Don’t.

Based on my observations of Ms. here, Mom would make short work of this lazy carcass.

But, and I am going by personal memory here, the ass-whipping would pale in comparison to the verbal ripping she will be getting at the same time. (And don’t try telling her you won’t do it again, it just prolongs the ass-whipping.)

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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What is the carbon footprint of a moron?

There is a certain amount of ignorance and hope in someone that someone that becomes a crusader with a cause.

Take the two well-monied house frau’s sitting at the next table are a perfect example.

Lets take an inventory, shall we?

I was in the parking lot when they drove up in separate cars.

One Mercedes, S Class.

One Range Rover Sport.

Once I got inside, I really didn’t need the visual of their vehicles to know what they drove.

They both have the annoying habit of carrying their car keys with the brand logo hanging out for all to see. Its annoying, but it is one that a majority of people with expensive cars that come with key chains with logos do. Its a minor thing.

The shoes are expensive. I used to be involved with a shoe-whore, I recognize the quality.

The clothing is expensive and made to look much more casual. Its expensive to look that casual.

The bag may be Louis Vuitton, I can’t be sure, I never dated a bag-whore.

Their coffee orders were difficult and long. This was not unexpected.

Their conversation was pretty much what I expected, shallow and narcissistic.

I don’t like them instinctively.

Its not the money or a race thing, its the attitude.

My coffee is hot and the company is delicious.

Its not often the coffee shop god’s smile upon you, but when it happens, its sweet.

This is a neat way of saying the table next to them is open.

When you put on headphones, but leave the music off, people assume you can’t hear what they are saying.

“I am sick of this bullshit.” (Angst, always brings out the best in silly conversation, don’t you think?)

“I know, right?” ( I am sorry, but this reply lowered her an extra notch.)

“Their denial is ridiculous, its hurting all of us.”

“The facts are the facts, the school’s carbon footprint is massive and they refuse to do anything about it!”

The statement is most likely valid, and I don’t know anything about the school in question. (But I used to inspect schools, so I do have a perspective.)

But the hypocrisy is stunning.

I swear, I almost said something and risked breaking the cardinal rule of this blog.

Don’t get involved. (Not to be confused with the Hippocratic oath “Do no harm. Mine is more “Do some harm if its funny.”)

Mainly because anything I said would not influence or change their opinion one way or the other.

If I agree with them, I am ok.

If I disagree, I am obviously some sort of ignorant denier.

And where is the fun in that?

What these ignorant biotches are missing is the fact that if you want to bitch at other people make sure your own shit doesn’t stink.

Their own carbon footprint is pretty scary.

The iPhone 5’s that are sitting on the table in their obscenely high priced cases have the highest lifetime carbon footprint of any iPhone ever made. (30 seconds of Google research doesn’t lie.)

Their vehicles are shining beacons of carbon footprinted light in the darkness.

Listening to them reminds me whats wrong with the world in general.

Stupidity. Its actually kind of depressing to think about the fact that these two are breeders.

I know this because they had a brief discussion about their kids.

Range Rover refused to let her son play lacrosse a year ago because, and I quote, “They insist on tracking the score instead of just letting the kids play.”

Sounds like a recipe for raising a pussy. God help this little squish-head when he gets out into the real world and finds out that your employer doesn’t give a shit if you lose but felt good doing it. He will be fired a baker’s dozen times before that little concept hits home.

And S-Class is not much better.

Her comment? “There are so many bad influences out there.”

Are you including the bad influence who’s vagina he tumbled out of?

That is one that will never be blamed.

Its always someone else’s fault.

Probably mine.

And I am ok with that.

At least the coffee is hot.

 
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Posted by on June 20, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Post Mother’s day angst.

It was Mother’s Day on Sunday.

Despite the ridiculous hype Oprah wants to spout, it really is a hard job.

At least, it CAN be a hard job.

It can also be one that is not taken seriously.

Depends on the mom.

Getting the job is easy enough.

Lay prone…your Hired!

And there are also those who bust their ass and spend a lot of time trying to get the job.

They are the ones who tend to take it serious.

Here is why its just called life instead of a job.

Nobody hired you, there are no consistent standards, and its really hard to get fired.

Plus, if it were REALLY hard? Not everyone who could lay prone would do it.

If it required a college education, more than half the population would be shit out of luck.

Me? I got lucky.

My mom, as I have mentioned before, is a force of nature.

The kind of mom they should all be.

I also married well.

My ex, despite our differences, is a really good mother.

My kids are awesome.

That is the true way of judging how good a job you did.

Kids make their own decisions, true.

But the thought process they have is the one they are given.

My parents sent me out into the world with a thought process that borders on omnipotent.

Humble was never mentioned.

I always wonder what was wrong with the parents when I meet someone who is unable to apply logic or basic commonsense to their life.

And when they don’t, I am usually the only one who notices.

And like an ass, I blog about it.

This blog started out to be all about happenings in a Starbucks near my work, and has morphed over the years into being a tell all of either my opinions about people, usually when they are behaving badly.

In a nutshell, low-end bitching and whining.

And I am ok with that.

However, the best thing about writing this blog is that I get to be an unholy tyrant and write only what I feel like, no matter how twitchy the subject.

Back to Mother’s Day.

I am not sure how the hell my mom raised my brother’s and me without killing one of us or one of us ending up in prison.

Maybe thats the true secret to being a successful mother, to not just raise a kid, but to raise a kid that can take care of himself and stand on his own two feet. (Without the prison part.)

And then there is the other side of mothering.

Using the process of elimination, somewhere out there is the world’s worst mother.

And someone just gave her a card and maybe some flowers.

Its not a question of being good at it, maybe its just a question of doing it, surviving the act of being pregnant, giving birth, and then raising your kidlets until they leave the nest.

So to all the mothers out there, good luck and nice job, good or bad.

Much like surviving a war, it has probably left you with some baggage and maybe some scars.

But at least you did it.

And look, you got a card out of the deal.

Good for you.

 
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Posted by on May 12, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Don’t take this personal, but I hate your kids.

I hate your kids, you know who I mean.

And just a tip? If I am in line at Panera Bakery, trying to think of something to write about, don’t show your ass with your rotten little progeny right in front of me.

I think it was when the 5 year old shouted “NO!” and slapped mom across the face the first time that I began paying attention.

The little girl has wild hair to the middle of her back and a set of lungs when she wants them.

Screaming and beating on the bakery case window is what got mom to drop to one knee and begin talking low to the child.

And thats when little missy decided she’d had enough of mom’s shit.

Whack! Take that bitch!

And here is the interesting part, mom was not shocked.

Let me roll that one past you again, MOM. WAS. NOT. SHOCKED.

All told, mom got smacked a total of 3 times.

Twice in line and once at the table.

I have a lot wrong with this.

First of all is the fact that mom is a fucking moron and should never have allowed that chubby little hand to land.

It sets a precedent and somewhat empowers the little monster to do it again when she gets the chance.

Plus the fact that dodging a hit from a 5 year old doesn’t require cat-like reflexes.

Had I tried that kind of mini assault on my mother growing up, she would have torn that arm from my torso and beaten me half to death with it.

And I would have had it coming.

In this instance, mom has it coming.

I am not really going out on a limb here when I suppose that this rotten little beast has no boundaries at home.

So, if the first time she has any sort of a leash put on her is when she is in school or a restaurant, we are all subjected to the thoroughly ineffective parenting of Mr. And Mrs. Dipshit foisted upon us in the form of Little Miss Dipshit.

Lucky us.

I have always been of the opinion that my children (And a select few others) are basically the only pretty and intelligent kids out there, and this dysfunctional group is only proving my point.

My son and daughter set the loose cannon bar as kids, (Nowhere near as bad as me) but I would never hesitate to take them anywhere.

Because they had boundaries.

Boundaries are the negative buzzword among what passes for the modern day, “Dr. Spock” parents.

Don’t tell your child no, avoid anything unpleasant as a result of their behavior, and GOD FORBID you smack that rotten little bitch on her backside for giving mommy a little tune up on the side of her face.

Someone needs to take mom aside, smack her hand, hard, tell her “No!” and when she opens her mouth to protest, take two fingers that tap her on the lips. “Shut your mouth! Go to your room!”

Sometimes modern thought and theories suck huge balls and old school is not only wise, its effective.

Applesauce, bitch.

 
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Posted by on January 6, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Karma, we meet again.

Last year I wrote a post about a Starbucks on the edge of the “Other side of the tracks” with a cashier that “Don’t give a fuck, I’ll cut a bitch.”

That one.

Its not one I visit all that often, but my day ended up near there and I wanted some caffeine.

Well there she is.

Not a hair has changed.

She is in her early 20’s but has that aged look you get when you live a life that prematurely ages you.

Just about the oldest 20 something I have ever seen.

The last time I saw her, she had gotten married the week before and her boyfriend was arrested at the reception for being under the influence of something called “Booley”.

I have Googled, researched, and even asked a pro in the drug rehab biz, no one has a clue what “Booley” is.

Anyway, I am sad to say, while taking my order, I happened to notice that she is no longer wearing her wedding ring.

Sad when young love fails.

And yet, I would still give them better odds than the marriages of any of the Kardashians.

That is a family that gives each other new heads for Christmas.

Sorry, there is an ad for “Keeping up with the Kardashians on a website on my laptop.

I get easily distracted, blame the lack of caffeine.

The cashier, it seems, has a new dilemma, once again involving her guy. (Noticing a theme here?)

“My Abuella hasn’t heard from him. And he KNOWS I can’t get the baby, I gotta work.”

(Her ex is unreliable? Didn’t see that coming.)

And yet, as messed up as I may think her life is, she is gainfully employed and has been holding it down for at least a year.

My Spanish is dicey at best, but I at least know she is talking about her grandmother.

Daycare can be a bitch even with the right home situation.

Try doing it on your own and most single mothers are fucking magician/jugglers that handle crap that would break most others.

I am done being sarcastic about this girl.

I can be a dick at times, but even I have a heart. Somewhere.

Tough to find, but its there.

I rarely tip, but on my way out, I toss several ones in the tip jar.

Karma may be an unreliable bitch, but she sometimes pays attention.

Best to stay on her good side, never know when she might decide to get in the game.

The Starbucks has hideous parking, so I park around the block.

It is as I come around the corner that I see the cop, standing next to my car.

With complete clarity, I now see that I misread the sign and am now eligible for a parking ticket.

Crap.

“This your car?” At least the cop seems friendly.

“Yes, sorry, I misread the sign.”

“Thats ok, just pay more attention next time.” Not a look back as he gets in his car and drives off.

No ticket.

Well played, Karma, well played.

 
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Posted by on November 25, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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