Jan

Babysitting. It’s bad for your health.

I’m up later than I should be and my mind wanders to those random places it does when one engages in things like sleep deprivation.

I f#cking HATE babysitting!!!!
“whine, whine, I need more white grape juice. It has to be white. That’s the wrong sippy cup, I don’t want this oneee, it has to be Ariel and it has to be whiteeee.”

“Listen, baby bigot, it’s the exact same shit & you can’t HAVE more white grape juice because you’re already treating this establishment like a goddamn bouncy house & I’m on the brink.
You can have like an eye dropper full of grape shit mixed into a glass of water in whatever cup, old soup can or Tupperware I can find, & while you glare at me, begrudgingly sipping like a first world ingrate, you may also reflect on your momentous luck in my belief that your intolerable ass would fetch less money on the Cambodian black market than your parents will give me if you’re still alive when they get home. Don’t make me start rounding up.”

I’m just not a fan of being in the company of children for more than an hour or so in general, so babysitting has never been my jam, but BATH TIME is a special hell unto itself.

Anybody feel me??? It’s the Worst!!!

This one particularly grievous little Piranha by the name of Olivia (if that’s even her real name) who I used to nanny takes the cake, though. Bath time: do you want help in there or not? Mind you, bath time is the time at which either her parents or the sweet release of death are due to be walking in the door at any minute.

Maybe I’m just an awkward person, but I feel like being around any kids over the age of about 5 who are naked and not related to you is uncomfortable as shit. As I’ve amply expressed, I have no sort of personal interest, excitement, particular affection, or any other form of pleasant feelings toward kids, but I feel like the general scene just begs “Chris Hansen, Dateline NBC” to waltz in at any second, kicking off an epic “it’s not what it looks like” scene.
…I digress. This little asshole can never decide if she wants help in the tub or not. Her parents just say to make sure she gets a bath. Being of the sentiments I am, I run the water for her, make sure she has everything she needs, then back out slowly, closing the door behind me and advising “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” No luck, no peace. Ever.

First, she says in no uncertain terms that she can do it herself & she does not want help AND she wants her privacy. Excellent! 3 minutes later… “Thalia?! I think I need help!” Great…
And there begins a tenuous shit show that may last 45 minutes or a lifetime (can’t say for certain because it always ends with me sporting more wrinkles & less hair than I had at commencement) in which this little d-bag oscillates continuously between begging me to help her wash her hair & yelling like a wronged banshee for me to get out & leave her alone.
She’s in that sort of “fuck you for the sake of fuck you” stage. Don’t get me wrong- this little gremlin adores me & never wants me to go home, but she’s in this stage in which she thrives on unnecessarily/aggressively asserting herself at random. I suppose she’s just discovering the ferocious power of autonomy for which she has my full support. But seriously, kid, do you Have to pick the one time you’re required to be starkers & I’m required to be around you to unleash hell?

Do you have any idea how insanely awkward that is?!?!?!!! And more importantly, how insanely awkward that LOOKS?! I was always just waiting for the glorious day when her dad would arrive at precisely the right moment to hear resounding shrieks throughout the house for me to get out of the bathroom, & enter a scene of his child naked in the bathroom, yelling at the babysitter to leave her alone.
Even now, I’m sure if I were to brush my hair while thinking about it, the brush would emerge looking like someone had glued a wig on it & my head would be left cold, breezy & looking like a bald cap.

“nah, I’m cool”

….. Babysitting. Jesus F Baby!!! Ya know?!

If anyone’s up for sharing, it would do my prematurely aged heart good to hear tales of similar hells.

Nov

Westboro Baptist Church Thinks Self Righteousness is a Sex Organ, & They’ve Spent Their Entire Lives Just Diddling It.

It occurred to me this afternoon that the members of Westboro Baptist Church are like a bunch of toddlers in their Freudian anal fixation stage. Except they never grow out of it.

They are obsessed with these nutso concepts to the point that not only does this obsession dictate their narrow existences, but their blind servitude often causes the mongering of these concepts to [fairly] come off as completely nonsensical. (They are surely breeding themselves stupider.)

I’ve noticed their constant jam is to construct their pitiful, limp, micro-dick, little signs out of an arbitrary string of hot words that ultimately come out to sad/ “wtf”, at best.

Take these gems for example. Don’t be shy to freakin’ FEAST your eyes on these little slices of egregion; I assure you they are real.

Ok, I did make up the word “egregion” (noun form of egregious), but wtf is a Bitch Burger?! Lemonade? Wait, I didn’t even know that delightfully refreshing beverage was mentioned in the bible. When did lemonade make the shit list?!

And then some of their handiwork is just plan confusing…

There’s another WBC pic of them holding a sign that says “YOU Hate God.” So, wait- does God hate me, or do I hate God? …I’m confused, cuz I didn’t even know about this

(back left) What’s God’s rod? And why are we talking about rods? Doesn’t that seem unnecessarily “fag-like”? Is this a subtle attempt at coming out, or did that little gem just bust the f#ck out of the closet by itself?

Well, looks like Whitney’s in hell. Damn.

Aaaaanddd the queen of England is the queen of fags.

Aaaaanddd the queen of England has secretly been the queen of fags the whole time!

Oct

People of Walmart: In-home Safari Edition

So, this morning, I was fortunate enough to observe this little critter in the kitchen. The live-in boyfriend in his natural habitat. These creatures are extraordinarily rare and usually only allow themselves to be sighted in this exemplary state after you’ve dedicated at least 3 years to tracking them and observing their behaviors.

Once they’ve become accustomed to your presence in their environment, they may grow comfortable enough to display some of their atavistic preferences, natural inclinations and primal behaviors. (For instance, the live in boyfriend may produce confusing vocalizations indicating that it wants to have a sexual relationship with you, even though it is 3pm and if you scour its preferred area of the lair, the careful observer will note that its crudely crafted toothbrush is still dry as a motherf#cking bone.)

During mating season, the creature will often hike its pant leg up to let other males see that its feet are serious, and fan out its decorative laces to attract females.

Note the great lengths it goes to in order to camouflage itself into the grunge of its current surroundings. Nature has flawlessly equipped its body with the precise and distinct features it requires for survival in hostile terrain. Marvel at how its feet are endowed with natural roach stompers, ready to spring into action at the first sign of a threat. Why, this particular pair seems stout enough to defend against even large game, should an errant moose appear without warning.

Note the speed and agility with which the specimen reacts when it senses roach-approach

Many people will go a lifetime without beholding this proud, beautiful animal. Although nature is the true artist of this scene, and I but a mere painter, I consider myself blessed. And deeply humbled by the things I’ve seen.

"Pull The Van Around."

Tag Archives: sarcastic

Babysitting. It’s bad for your health.

Westboro Baptist Church Thinks Self Righteousness is a Sex Organ, & They’ve Spent Their Entire Lives Just Diddling It.

People of Walmart: In-home Safari Edition