Skipping past yesterday's entry because frankly who gives a shit and I spy this:
I just got word that I am a finalist for Parent & Child Magazine's 2009 Mommy Blogger Awards!
WHAT!? Best blogger of 2009 from Parent & Child Magazine? I have more maternal instinct than this stupid whore and I'm a 21 year old guy, for Christ's sake.
when I ask you to vote for me, but WILL YOU?
Easy on the bold font, please. Also no, I'd vote Andrea Yates over you (burn).
Because I am a nice mom and lack common sense and good judgment, I let my five-year-old son carry the plastic shopping bag containing the clothes that I had just bought him out of the store.
>I
>nice mom
gigglingelfchild.png
It wasn't until after I pulled into the preschool parking lot that Cortlen remembered that he wasn't wearing any shoes.
Okay funny story: I forgot to wear shoes to college today.
Next post is pretty fucking amazing if I do say so. If you'll forgive the turn of phrase, this post is malignant.
There is one less person reading this blog today.
Well praise be to Allah for that.
On Friday, my friend Becky passed away from complications related to leukemia. She was 29.
This is sad. I think everyone reading this can agree.
Long post short: this woman lost her baby and then she expired shortly thereafter, but that's okay according to the world's cuntiest cunt:
I can't help but see this outcome in some way as an answer to two heartfelt prayers. Although not answered in the way either of us expected, in the end both Becky and I got what we wanted: she is with her baby, and I am with mine.
Well you somehow managed to make a eulogy about you. You are perhaps the most narcissistic person I've had the pleasure of reading.
Now she handily compiles a list of why she's a neglectful/abusive mother:
1. One of my daughter's friends gave her a Target gift card for her birthday. I used it to buy diapers.
That's not necessarily neglect because I've seen their living conditions and I'm guessing they aren't exactly well-off.
2. The number of times that I make my kids sleep in the clothes that they are going to wear to school the next day is steadily increasing.
Okay that is probably neglect.
3. On pupil-free days, I eat ice cream for breakfast in front of my kids. They don't understand why it's necessary for everyone's well-being.
Ever heard of the myth of Tantalus? No? Well I'll forgive you, world's cuntiest cunt, since you are a doctor (not a real doctor, a word doctor) of medieval literature and not Greek mythology.
I won't retell the whole story here but I will tell you a modern word in English with its root in this myth: tantalize.
4. I make the child who I like the least at the end of each day scoop out the cat litter.
So you punish your children based off your whims? I'm going to have to check my big book o' child psychology but I think that might be bad.
6. Clothing items with which my children develop unhealthy obsessions always mysteriously disappear.
So having them sleep in clothing they'll be wearing the next day is okay but if they have a particular shirt they like you take it from them? Fantastic.
This goes on but I stopped giving a shit so moving on:
The cashier handed the coupon back to me. "We don't have Whoppers here," she said.
It wasn't until after I asked the poor girl what kind of Burger King doesn't sell Whoppers that I realized that I was at McDonald's.
Ha, ha OH WOW.
It's a competitors' coupon," I explained, as I scanned the overhead menu.
That's Pizza Hut that takes competitor coupons, boss.
The manager was called over to explain to me the difference between the 40% off coupons handed out by national chain craft stores and the item-specific coupons mailed out by individual restaurant franchises.
"Burger King and McDonald's are not the same restaurant," he told me. "Completely different."
You know the really sad part in all of this? I bet that wasn't the dumbest question he heard that day.
I chose to take the high road and not pick a fight over hamburgers (feel free to applaud my maturity in the comments).
Actually you didn't take the high road. Someone called you on your (admittedly completely idiotic) mistake and you backed down. There is no high road to be had here. You did what you're supposed to do.
"What does this say?" I asked, pointing to the letters. They spelled S-I-G-L-R.
"My new name," replied Cortlen. "I changed it yesterday."
"To what?" I wanted to know.
"Kyle Singler," he replied, naming one of the starters of Duke University's men's basketball team.
See? Even a five year old can tell when his name is fucking stupid.
We followed the scent of rotting flesh to the front parking lot, where we found 30 small children staring wide-eyed at the exposed entrails of a dead deer, which had been hit by a passing car over the weekend and dragged to the side of the road.
Best thing to ever happen in church.
Usually the reviews of church are not so good. Yesterday they were significantly better."Church was AWESOME!""Do you think the deer will still be there next week?""If so, can I poke it with a stick?"
Hell yeah you can poke it with a stick.
Of course that'd be me, your CUNT MOTHER probably said no.
Well that's it. That's your fucking Friday update.
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