Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Fuck Meat Eaters

I just read a post by my all-time favorite blogger. Now just because he's my favorite doesn't mean I agree with everything he says. I'm not his fucking clone after all.

His post was about vegetarians. But not just about us, totally and completely trashing us. And his stalkers, um, followers just made the discussion even worse. There were racist comments, ignorant comments, dumb-as-fuck comments. It made me sick.

Don't get me wrong, I know that there are A LOT of vegetarians and/or vegans who take that shit too far. I, however, am not one of them and I get sick and tired of defending my goddamn personal decision. Bitch, I didn't say your ass had to be a vegetarian; I said I'm a fucking vegetarian. If you want to eat a big ass pile of fucking meat, I don't give a shit. Knock yourself out. But don't fucking judge me because I choose not to.

Stop being so fucking stupid. "Vegetarian" is not synonymous with "punching bag." Please stop saying stupid shit to me. No, dumb ass, plants do not have feelings, too. Yes, dumb ass, vegetarians do, in fact, give head and probably a helluva lot better than you because we know how to give pleasure as well as receive it.

This is the last time, the last fucking time, I will defend my personal decision to be a vegetarian. From this moment on, all you hypocritical assholes will get a kick in the nuts or a serious punch in the tits when you demand I defend my position. See, I really don't care whether animals are harmed or not.

BTW, fuck you.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Meltdown in 3...2...1

Every time I'm in a perfectly good mood, I come home and these people screw it up. Is a clean house too much to ask for? If I can see the pizza box on the floor, why can't you? I don't get. Am I missing something? Did everybody in this household go blind when I wasn't looking?

And if my cell phone doesn't stop freakin' ringing with some idiot on the other line who can't possibly wipe his ass without my help, I'm going to scream! Stop calling me! Stop calling me! STOP FUCKING CALLING ME!

Uh oh. There's that sharp pain in my head again.

What are those dark spots doing floating in the air like that?

Monday, August 9, 2010

Is It The First Day of School Yet?

Who's dumb ass idea was it for me to have four kids? Couldn't have been mine. Must have been the DH (dumb, not dear) who thought of it. And furthermore, why the hell are they out of school for two and a half months in the summertime? If one of these mfers don't get a job, I think I might kill someone. Eating up my food, dirtying all the goddamn dishes, using all the tp and soap... What the hell are they good for?

I'm not being harsh. My youngest child is nine. If that's not get-a-fucking-job age I don't know what is. They all know better and it is pissing me off that they don't act like it. What ever happened to ass-whuppings? You know, back when you could beat a child's ass and break his spirit and not have to worry about the state coming to lock you up? I got my ass whupped up one side and down the other and I am mad as hell that I can't treat my own kids like Hebrew slaves, too.

Ah, the good old days. How I miss them.

But...maybe if I had been treated better, I wouldn't have the urge to treat my children badly. Just a thought.

Who even cares? Do you? Probably not enough to make any changes, though.


Me either.

Monday, August 2, 2010

I love (my) children?

Don't you just hate children? Aw, come on. I'm not the only one. You bust your ass providing for them, you cook, clean, do hair, bake (!), discipline, give advice, schlep, shop, and (fill in your own thankless chore here) and what do they do for you? Say thanks? Be obedient? Keep your house clean? Um...no. Those little suckers latch on like a calf at the teat and hold on for dear life, totally and completely dependent on you. Somebody should repeal the child labor laws so I can put these freeloaders to work and finally get something out of this abyss called parenthood.

Whew! Glad I got that off my chest.

Hidden in the darkest crevices of my being is a thin, happy woman who marvels at the wonderment of childhood; its innocence, its naiveness (just found out that was a word), its unconditional love, blah, blah, blah. On the surface, though, is a fat, bitter bitch who wishes people were born at age 30, knowledgeable and not annoying in the least.

Then again I know a lot of annoying 30-year-olds...