CUNTINESS

I bet all three of you reading this thought "hey, we're up to day six with no mention of that Meanest Mom cunt," well you impatient twat today is your lucky day.
I know I've spoken at large (this is the fifth entry on the subject) but the most recent entry was this one.
I rather enjoy my opening to this post:

Like a dog returning to its vomit, I find myself returning to the subject of THE MEANEST MOM (ALL CAPS POWERS ACTIVATE!)

It's like it's written to compel you to read further or something.
How do I do it?
Well enough of tooting my own horn, let's begin.

This morning I went to the post office to mail a couple last minute gifts. Everything went fine, except for the fact that somehow I managed to get my dad's Christmas gift stuck in the mail bin.

Recurring theme in this blog: she does something stupid and expects the world to fix it for her.
TYPICAL WOMAN AM I RIGHT GUYS?
Wow that was really uncalled for, even by my usual standards.

After waiting in a ridiculously long line, I notified the woman at the front counter of my predicament. She told me that what happened to me "happens all the time" and that someone would "try" to get the package out later that afternoon.

Ha, ha wow you're getting trolled hardcore.

"If another customer doesn't figure out a way to get to it first," she told me with a hysterical laugh.

Wow not only is she not going to do anything she doesn't even give a fuck if your shitty package gets stolen. I'd give this woman a high five.

I have something very special to give away this week!!!!!

It is incredibly awesome and something that every family would love to have in their home for the holiday season.

I'm not going to tell you what it is (surprises are rad),

A gun.

but I will give you two clues:

Oh I love these kind of games. I'm always spot on.

1. It's a gift that keeps on giving. I got it on Friday night, in the middle of Ikea, and still have it!!!!!

A deep dicking.

2. You won't be able to keep it to yourself! This gift is not for the stingy. No matter how hard you try to keep it all to yourself, it will be nearly impossible not to share it with somebody.

Definitely a deep dicking.
Also stop getting on my shit about my spelling, Firefox. Dicking is so a word.

I love a good giveaway and this one is, I'm sure you'll all agree, pretty awesome!!!!

I bet it's a cold, eh heh heh heh I like my suggestion better.

Last week, the family who lives across the street got a dog.

Today, a man came and installed an invisible fence around their yard. The concept is genius: every time the dog crosses the line, it gets a little bit electrocuted.

Radio waves, actually.

This weekend, my husband and I took our older kids on a short cruise to the Bahamas. We specifically left Cameron at home so we could do some fun activities together as a family.

Yeah fuck you Cameron. Too young to remember shit anyway.
I do enjoy the implication that Cameron was left home alone at the ripe old age of 3 or whatever he is now.

I shouldn't have bothered.

All my kids wanted to do the whole time was watch television in their cabin.

Amazingly cruises aren't too interesting to 10 year olds.

"We didn't come here to watch T.V.," I told them. "Let's go check out the buffet or something."

Lesson of the day: staying home saves money and all the fun activities are already there.

My husband ticked off the options on his fingers. "How about ping pong?" he asked. "Or shuffleboard or basketball? At 3 o'clock, we can learn how to fold towels into the shape of animals."

I came 2000 miles to play basketball?
Dad, have you ever heard of a playground?
Or, no, my mistake: shuffleboard. What year is this? How old are you people?

On Saturday night, I went to the grocery store. Before I left the house, I asked if anyone wanted to go with me.

No. No one wants to be near you. Away with ye.

My husband and Cortlen ignored me (they were watching a football game). Camber came into the room with a brush, a bottle of hair spray, and two packages of glittery hair clips.

"I would go, but I have things to do," she explained

I understand. I, too, am often busy.

I didn't really want to take Kellen because he looked like a homeless person, but by the time I found my keys, he was already in the car.

The drive to the grocery store took exactly three minutes...plenty of time, I learned, to have a conversation about just everything in the entire planet.

Or everything worth talking about, anyway.
Also I like how she doesn't want to take the one kid because he looks homeless but isn't that kind of the responsibility of the parents to, I dunno, raise their kids or something? Is this kid living in such Spartan conditions that he can look homeless?

Kellen: "Do you know what? I wouldn't go walking in the woods right now. You wouldn't be able to see a panther because it's so dark. Isn't that crazy?"

Yes, the wild panthers of Florida.

Me: "Why are we talking about panthers?"

Panthers are fucking rad is why. The kid's right. They blend into the night, then they melt out of the shadows and maul you to death. A day in the life of an average panther is 100 times more awesome than your entire existence, woman.

Kellen: "Do you know what? If a rabid dog bites you, you have to get three shots in your arm that are as thick as peanut butter. Did you know that?"

And back in the day it was 20 shots in the gut. Be glad you were born when you were.

The scene: an overpriced department store

The purpose for our visit: to purchase a $100 group gift card for a relative who just had a baby

Ah fuck I just got disconnected from my game in the middle of splitting a wind crystal. Well there's 1 crystal down the drain.
And now it thinks I'm still logged in. Oh, right. What are you taking about that's of no significance?

After paying for the item, I put the card in my purse. My kids were quiet until we got outside. And then they let me have it.

"You paid $100 for that?" Camber screeched. "That's a total rip-off!"

Oh Christ who even cares?

Camber spends her money the instant that she gets it, usually on things that I abhor.

"It would be great if you didn't buy that tub full of tiny beads," I told her as she plopped the object into my shopping cart this afternoon.

This is where guidance and parenting come in I understand.
Or you could not crush the life out of your children, I dunno.
It really is your fault for having so many.

One of my greatest joys in life is picking up thousands of microscope beads off the floor...one by one.

Oh what's it like living in the fucking stone age? I was about to say "you know a vacuum would expedite the process" but come to think of it so would a fucking broom and dust pan.

"Christmas is coming soon," I begged. "Maybe Santa will get it for you."

Yeah nice try your kids are like 10. Way too old to fall for shit like that.

My kids aren't the smartest kids in the universe, but they have enough brain cells to know that the Santa that comes to their house doesn't love them as much as the Santa that comes to their friends' houses.

WHY WOULD YOU HAVE CHILDREN IF THIS IS WHAT YOU THINK OF THEM?
What, there weren't enough people in the world to experience your cuntiness you had to produce four of your own to show?
And it really took you a long time to realize that maybe you shouldn't have had any at all. I understand two are twins (which is knowing more about your life than any stranger should know) but even then that means you gave this pregnancy and childbearing, not to mention raising thing four goes.

"Santa would never buy me something like that because hates us," my daughter told me. "All he buys me are books and toys without batteries."

WELL PSYCHE OUT MOTHERFUCKERS THIS YEAR WE'RE GETTING A PS-TRIPLE.

Since ascending into adulthood, I have been a member of 17 book clubs. Or so it feels.

Ascending.
The Temple of the Emperor Ascendant is all I can think of for some reason.
That's where Reclusiarch Grimaldus had his last stand at Hellsreach, wasn't it?
Oh thanks for letting me back into FFXIV, SE. Only took you 13 fucking minutes.
All right bitch, back to your alembic. We got wind shards to make.

Unlike most other social events, I find book clubs to be thoroughly enjoyable. On all but two occasions, I have read the assigned book and then neglected to show up for the meeting to discuss it.

I would be the worst at book clubs. I'd just tell the entire club what we should read, call their selections stupid and then do what I wanted anyway.

"You don't like book clubs," my husband corrected. "You like reading lists."

Last week, I joined my eighteenth book club. The first meeting was in a conference room at the public library. The book club leader began the meeting by asking each of us to make a list of things that we like to read about.

I want to read Hellsreach again. The best Warhammer book ever.
Actually Legion is better by a slim margin.

I didn't know what to write first, so I put down "infectious diseases."

I have to give credit where credit is due: that sounds like something I would suggest.

"Like the Swine Flu?" the woman asked when she got to my paper.

"And HIV and Cholera and the Black Death," I added.

Fuck yeah.

All of the other lists in the room included mythical creatures.

HURRR TWILIGHT.
Let's read The Faerie Queene instead. MOTHERFUCKIN' SAINT GEORGE KILLS THE FUCK OUT OF A DRAGON.
Then lands some sweet Elven pussy, man that guy was a baller.
Yeah it sounds like the gayest thing ever written. The Fairy Queen, really?
But it's just hiding the most awesome thing ever written, practically.
It's like that movie Troy. It stars Brad Pitt as Achilles and you think "wow, Brad Pitt as a Greek. This is going to be homoerotic" and the first thing I see when I turn it on is Achilles throwing a spear through a guy's shield and through his fucking head.
Awesome.

All this week, my kids have been making drafts of Christmas lists. On Sunday, the final lists are due. Today we held a peer review.

Uh-huh. Why?
I can't even get 9th graders to do this activity correctly. How are you going to get 10 year olds to do it?

When Cortlen saw who was going to review his list, he started to cry. Camber cackled and rubbed her hands together in anticipation and excitement.

Just some good ol'-fashioned sadism I guess.

"Now I want you to circle three things on the list that you think the author would like the most," I told them.

I had no idea where this exercise was going or what purpose it served,

Oh. I was kind of joking about the sadism thing but I can't say I'm surprised.

Kellen was a good listener and circled everything on the list in front of him.

Camber wrote the word "butt" on Cortlen's list and had to be excused from the table.

Cortlen was so upset by what his sister did that he stabbed her paper with his pencil and had to be excused from the table as well.

Santa watched the whole spectacle through his magic telescope as he whispered "Merry Christmas" in my ear.

Well to be fair you kind of brought this on yourself.
Why would you even do something like this? I can't even begin to get the vague impression of the point of this activity outside of--
oh good, check it out:

Surplus EXP now.
Whatever, I'm leveling through that. Too close to the cap anyway to care about such nonsense.
I didn't even know you could get fatigue on EXP. Did I just discover this?
Oh right, you.
Uhhh--
In conclusion, you're a cunt.

Let's stay current

Like a dog returning to its vomit, I find myself returning to the subject of THE MEANEST MOM (ALL CAPS POWERS ACTIVATE!) I promised many moons ago to keep tabs on her, and keep tabs on her I have. Here we are for today.

I had an all-day appointment yesterday, so my husband took a day off of work to watch Cameron.

What are you so busy doing to watch your own spawn, woman?
Well that's fair enough, I guess the other idiot needs a chance to get a lesson in what he's been neglecting.

"I spent $100 at the grocery store!" my husband said incredulously when I removed the death mask. "And I didn't buy hardly anything!"

I pretended to be shocked. "You don't say?" I replied.

Hey spare me the sarcasm. It's thanks to my fucking employment you can buy food.
You certainly ain't employed with your doctorate in, what was it? MEDIEVAL LITERATURE?

This weekend, I am going to make him go with me to buy sneakers for all the kids.

Watch yourself now, he might just get the bright idea that none of you are worth the hassle and run off.
Here's her daughter's schedule for school and she's really flattering herself if she thinks I'm interested. Recess is missing and there's a double session of math. Glad I graduated from primary school a while ago.

On Monday, I lined everyone up in front of a rack at Old Navy.

"Pick whatever backpack you want," I told them.

Kids handle decision making notoriously well. You are talking to people whose cognitive abilities don't extend far enough to understanding that when you break something in two you are not, in fact, doubling the amount of something you have.
If you're trying to avoid a production (and you never seem to be, huh) you'd pick two or at most three appropriate backpacks and say "pick your favorite". Most kids, especially boys, could give a fuck so you'd probably do well to just pick a non-girl one for them but you are half an idiot, after all.
I'm sure they had children raising guides back in the dark ages. Surely you've come across one? And don't pull that bullshit "things were different back then" because they were not that different.

Cortlen and Camber quickly found something suitable to their tastes. Kellen took one look at the offerings and threw himself on the floor.

In case you forgot the choice of names.

"All of these backpacks are disgusting!" he cried.

See you gave them too much time to think. Had we used my method we'd already be moving to the next store.

"You touch it, you take it," I told him.

What the fuck, why are we falling back on grade school tactics here?

This morning, I took my kids to see Gregor. When the librarian saw me, he greeted me with a big grin....turned upside down.

Gregor. Why does everyone in your life have a name straight out of some scifi movie?

This week, my boys attended Vacation Bible School at a local church.

>Vacation
>Bible
>School
What? It's like three terms that don't make sense together.

Another church located directly across the street from the VBS church ran a medieval-themed dance camp for girls at the same time.

Medieval-themed dance camp.
So let me see if I understand this correctly: you take an awesome era of history involving knights, jousting, political scheming, the coining of the phrase "assassin" (exactly what it is today), the reemergence of humanist principles straight from the cruelty of the crusaders, the discovery of gunpowder, optics, astronomy and chemistry (through a pseudoscience called alchemy), several people so badass fictional accounts have to be toned down because there's no way people today would believe someone that awesome actually existed and dancing was the best thing they could come up with?
Whatever, Church.

This afternoon was Camber's dance recital. During the only 30 minute period of the week when my cell phone ringer was turned off, Cortlen got stung by a bee at Bible school.

Probably a mistake for dividing your children amongst activities. You had too many kids, that's a fact, so you should probably enroll them all in the same shit, yeah?
Also we have already established this is something none of your kids want to do, so just stay home and watch TV, Christ all mighty.

I apologized profusely to a group of women with clipboards in their hands and explained the situation, pointing to my daughter (who was wearing a cardboard breastplate and carrying a sword covered with aluminum foil) as evidence.

Oh yeah and Joan of Arc. Man these activities suck, fuck me. You could not have had more interesting shit going on and yet here we have dance and the Bible. The human imagination truly is an uncreative as advertised.

In Florida, it's the reptiles.

I don't have anything against lizards, but I don't particularly like to find them in my shower stall or running across the sidewalk every time I step foot outside my house.

Lizards are awesome, what's wrong with you? Look at the picture of the one you linked on your own blog. The fucker is blending in with that tree perfectly. That's fucking rad.

On Tuesday, I took my kids to the park and sat down on top of one. In my defense, the lizard was the same color as the park bench.

If the lizard wasn't sick when I sat down, it certainly was when I stood up. The thing was alive, but it didn't look so good.

Important lesson today, kids. We're going to learn about death and futility.

For reasons which I don't understand, my kids were more concerned about the condition of the reptile than my mental health. The shriek could be heard for miles.

Yes we're going to watch this lizard die a slow, painful death. Remember the helplessness you feel now. In the future remember to choose death and end its suffering.

This morning, one of the local movie theaters in town opened its doors to Orlando's youngest citizens, offering anyone under the age of 10 a free ticket to see Jonah: A Veggie Tales Movie.

Wow the theaters around here were showing Aliens. Not to 10 year olds obviously but as their "movies that haven't been in the theaters for a while" movie.
FLORIDA SUCKS HOLY SHIT.

Once the movie started, and I realized that all of the characters in it were vegetables, I began to actively look around for fire alarms.

... Really? A movie with the subtitle "A Veggie Tales Movie" stars talking vegetables?
Guess what: Aliens features, get this, aliens!

The three rows in front of us in the movie theater were occupied by preschoolers from a daycare center.

"Don't you think it's weird that a bunch of little kids can keep their hands to themselves during a movie but you guys can't?"

"It's almost like kids don't raise themselves you stupid cunt," would be my response. It'd be worth the time out.
I'd like to point out again that while you're raising your kids to be strippers and spouse-abusing alcoholics my kids will be future assassins. I'm not saying your kids suck but at least mine will always be employed.
You had two perfect life lessons in that lizard about camouflage (and how it does and more importantly doesn't work) and death, and you instead chose to focus on your own mental health. Whoop-de-shit you sat on a lizard. You'll survive.

Earlier tonight I gave a presentation to the teenage girls in my church about the importance of education.

"Our own glorious institution has fought tooth and nail since the dawn of its inception against education. Scholasticism was the first step against education: smart reading-types were locked away in monasteries. Coincidence? It is against the church's best interest to have people educated."

"If you call them bracelets one more time, I'm going to gnaw my arm off," threatened the Wanderer a few days ago.

See what I mean? Killer instincts in these kids. They can be turned into helpful members of society.

I'm nominated again for Blogluxe's Funniest Blog Award!

BA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.

Woo Hoo! I feel tremendously honored, as even being nominated for this award is a big deal. Last year, I narrowly missed out on standing on the winner's podium and I am super psyched to be in the running again alongside some really funny blogs.

HA, HA, HA, HA HOLY SHIT STOP.

I feel a little lame asking you this on the heels of what is ironically one of my few serious posts, but will you consider voting for me?

Hoo-boy that was entertaining for a minute there. You, funny?
HA!
Oh look, targets. This "Blogluxe" is an ally. Going to have to keep this in mind.
Anyway I guess that's it. Remember: I'm always watching.

CUNTIEST CUNT UPDATE: AUGUST

Yeah you may have thought I forgot, but I certainly fucking didn't. Time to be mean to my favorite cunt in the world: THE MEANEST MOM (ALL CAPS POWERS ACTIVATE).
No specific reason this time, I just wanted to keep her in line. In case she started to think I forgot. Well I haven't.

If I were a Neanderthal, I would be a hunter-gatherer.

Implying if anyone was a Neanderthal they might not be a hunter-gatherer (brotip: they were a hunter-gatherer culture).

I found the shoes in the shoe department of all places...and they were even in a box!!!

Whew slow down, you're getting very technical. Okay, shoes in shoe department-- got it. Proceed.

After purchasing the shoes and taking them home, I realized that there was a good reason why they were so cheap.

"Those shoes are really ugly," my husband observed.

Wait stop. Sorry, can you go over this box business again?
To cut down on some bullshit dialog:

Searching 8,000 hours of security tape to verify a $10 purchase seemed like a reasonable request and a productive use of everyone's time, so I agreed.

:|

"This is going to take at least an hour," the man warned, clearly annoyed.

Ha, ha yeah working does suck when you have to deal with twats like this.

As I made my way to the shelf of unfolded towels, chipped serving platters, and ceramic Easter eggs, I began to have a change of heart. The shoes weren't that ugly. The more I looked at them, in fact, the more I started to actually like them.

Fifteen minutes later, I stopped by the return counter.

"Tell the manager that I've changed my mind," I told the woman. "I've decided to keep the shoes."

I would punch you in the solar plexus for this bullshit.

My husband and I took the kids to Baltimore for the weekend. The Orioles were playing our hometown team, the California Angels, and we thought it would be fun to go to a couple of the games.

Whatever, sports.

Kellen and Cortlen (age 5) were very interested in the activities on the field. Camber (age 6),

Hi just quoting this in case you forgot she was a cunt and named her kids the dumbest fuck names ever.

I already lost my driver's license. I have no earthly clue where it is or when in the past week it escaped me.

I was going to say something about this but I was distracted (then promptly forgot what I had to say) by the link. What the fuck is this? Why are all your posts linked together? Is someone really going to say "HEY WAIT EXPLAIN THIS DRIVER'S LICENSE BUSINESS TO ME!" Well here's an entry I wrote about it, inquisitive reader! Goddamn no one cares about your fucking license, lady.

When I was at the dollar store earlier this week, I spotted several bottles of name brand spray sunscreen. Since this stuff typically runs upwards of $9 per bottle, I swiped the whole lot into my shopping cart.

There's a reason it's at the dollar store.

As I was applying the bargain sunscreen to myself and to my children later that afternoon, I noticed that the substance had a distinct odor which I couldn't quite place...until one of my pool friends sniffed the air around me and asked, "Do you smell ant poison?"

No thought given to the safety of your children? Oh well whatever. Can't say I'm surprised with some of your earlier antics.

Last week, I got my license renewed at the DMV.

Hey guess what? Still don't give a shit. This is like fucking Green Eggs and Ham, Christ. No I do not care five minutes later, no I do not care on a train, plane or on the moon.

A large sign at the doorway instructed me to 1) take a number from a ticket dispenser and then 2) take a seat.

And before you ask someone and end up in an hour run around, yes the rules apply to you.

You will be proud to know that I waited a whole seven minutes before taking yet another number.

Thanks for screwing the process up for other assholes like me who only took one number, asshole.

On Tuesday, I had an interview to be a part-time literature instructor at a local community college. I prepared for the interview by watching The Bachelorette and rolling the lint brush over my only suit.

Oh I get it those things have nothing to do with getting ready for an interview.
Wow.
What the fuck has to be the matter with you where that passes for humor?

It's kind of scary to think who could be teaching you or your college-aged children.

Yeah it could be you. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

In my church, every person has an assignment or calling.

Oh oh I call crusader. I'll take the holy land back from those heretics.

A few weeks ago, I was 'promoted.' Instead of throwing dinner parties for the women's organization every two months, I now get to host activities for the tweens in my congregation every two weeks.

This is why I can never go to church. Too much bullshit and not enough armor.

More than a costume that resembles a green bean, I want something that makes my position of authority transparent to the world, or at least to a bunch of fourth and fifth graders...and their parents.

Again my wisdom knows no bounds. If you showed up in full plate there would be no question who's in charge.
Here's an entry entitled "Further Proof That my Ph. D. in Medieval Literature Did Not Prepare Me For the Real World" like there's any shock there.

Now there's a picture of a book written in medieval Latin. Big fucking deal.At this very moment, a steeply discounted blouse in a color that does not flatter my skin tone waits patiently for me in my e-shopping bag, unable to make the leap into a UPS box until I can decipher the company's security Sanskrit.

Of course one might argue that just because you can read Medieval Latin does not qualify you for anything but doing just that but whatever I am dealing with a self-entitled cunt here.

Like our outward bound flight, our flight home was jam packed. My family's popularity was confirmed when the very last passenger to board the plane was directed to our aisle. The lucky ducky this time around was a nineteen-year-old math prodigy named Jeff.

Nerd.

Through an extensive pre-flight debriefing, I learned that Jeff is from Philadelphia, took Calculus in the eighth grade, just finished his freshman year at M.I.T., and had spent the previous week at a math conference in Park City.

Yeah and I have my own blog.

As I learned during the second hour of the flight, Jeff also likes Japanese cartoons. I smiled when Jeff began watching an anime cartoon on his computer.

>anime cartoon
Redundancy but whatever.

I stopped smiling a few minutes later, however, when two of the cartoon characters started taking off their clothes.

Yeah they are prone to do that. Cultural values, etc.

My husband ignored the pilot's insistence to remain seated and swapped seats with our daughter while I stared at Jeff from an uncomfortably close distance until he closed his laptop lid.

I'm sure she expects me to take sides in this but I hate all parties involved.

We had just read a book about warty trolls, and when the spots appeared, everyone began to eye Kellen suspiciously.

"One of us is turning into a troll," Cortlen announced authoritatively. "And it's not me."

Being an internet troll I happen to be an expert on trolls.

"It's in your genes, what can I say?" I told him. Although I lack fleshy growths, I do have several other defining characteristics of the mythical beast including a surly temperament, mood swings, and a large nose.

Also regenerative powers and weakness to fire.

Have you ever stayed at someone's house who abides by a completely different moral code than you?

No.
Also before you get butthurt: not everyone is obligated to think like you.
All right so I think this entry is done. I HOPE YOU LEARNED YOUR LESSON, CUNT.
YEAAAAAAAAAAAH NOBODY FUCKS WITH THE WHIZ.

Barf 2

I decided to check in on the world's greatest mother and OH GEE I SHOULD HAVE SAVED MY BARF TITLE FOR TODAY.
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.

My BFF Cunt Blogs

Continuing my incredibly stupid crusade, I see she has updated twice since I last updated. As I said in one previous entry, there is something to be said for sheer crushing volume of writing.

Some people commune with God; others converse with shampoo bottles.

I commune with my refrigerator. Specifically, the ice maker in the refrigerator.

I pulled back the shower curtain just as the last drops of a fifteen-ounce bottle of V05 made their way into the bathwater.

"Why would you do that?" I asked my son, pointing to the empty bottle.

"Because it told me to," replied the shampoo whisperer matter-of-factly.

Goddamn it's fucking scary being a kid. Everything is alive with spirits and a will of its own, or you do completely dickish things for seemingly no reason.
It's amazing as many people turn out as seemingly normal as they do.
Let's analyze the possibilities here. Either the kid thought the shampoo bottle was literally alive, which is possible since little kids believe weird shit, or he did this thing, had no motivation for doing so, and then invented an excuse.
EITHER WAY YOU'RE GOING TO LOOK BACK ON THIS LIKE YOU WERE NUTS.

A few minutes ago, Cameron woke up from his nap crying and very hungry.

Fair enough, babies are frequently hungry as I understand it.

By the time that I got to his room, Cortlen was already feeding him the crusty remnants of a bottle that he had found underneath the changing table. Yumsters!

A lot of people would dismiss this as a cute anecdote, but I, ever the over-thinker, see this as neglect.
Based off the included image, Chris is about ten.
So this kid was pitching a bitch long enough for the ten year old child to figure out he needs fed, search about (because invariably there's no food at hand because you are, after all, a neglectful parent) and locate a crusty bottle underneath the changing table. I know that's not the first place I would look for a bottle, so he had, at least possibly, been searching for a while.
Then he lifts the child out, sits down elsewhere, and feeds the child the bottle.
Ten year olds are not strong or particularly dexterous, so I imagine that it took longer for him to perform this feat than it would you, so I'm estimating at least a seven minute layover between this event and you finally doing something.

My new best friend is Lenore, the elementary school nurse. Lenore became my regular friend a few weeks ago when she sent home a note saying that she had trouble doing a lice check on my daughter, presumably because of the large rat's nest that has taken over the back of my five year-old's head.

As I understand it there's a spray product that aids in the removal of tangled hair.

My friendship with Lenore deepened over the weekend, when I received another letter in the mail, this one typed out on school district stationary and signed inexplicably in all capital letters by the nurse herself.

You should be familiar with Roman court proceedings, being a student of dark age literature.
All caps means she is speaking as an entity of the state and not as a private citizen.
I don't know how many nurses would be familiar with such matters but all right fine that is what it means.

Last month, all of the kindergartners were weighed and measured as part of the school's health and growth screening program. Lenore wanted to let me know that based on these numbers, my daughter's body mass index-for-age percentile was 88%.

Presumably that means she weighs less than 87% of people her age. Of course such information would be of relatively little use because women usually weigh less than men at nearly every age bracket save 10-14, so...

While I was grateful for this information, I wasn't exactly sure what it meant.

Gee, you're on the internet, I sure wish there was a way to locate such information!

Being either overweight or underweight can put a person at risk for certain health problems.

It is better to be underweight than overweight.

I liked the fact that Lenore had determined that my daughter was either overweight or underweight, but left it up me to guess which one.

At this point I assume she's being cute and I'm supposed to be laughing, but it is devoid of anything I would call a punchline.

Normally, I would think that having a BMI in the 88th percentile wouldn't be a particularly good thing, but then again, if my daughter was ground beef, being in the 88th percentile would be considered quite lean.

Holy shit it took you... One, two... Five paragraphs to get to that as your punchline? These aren't like sentence paragraphs like on my blog, either. These are fairly large blocks of text.
Jesus Christ how does that even happen? What has to be wrong with you where that passes as funny?

Yesterday, in the mall parking lot, I hit the bridge of my nose on my car's trunk door (don't ask).

I'm not going to ask because that implies I care, but you are a dumb klutz.

The cut took over an hour to clot,

Oh hi I didn't know my mom was posting this. (SHE READS THIS SO SHE'LL GET IT. HI.)

Helping out people who don't help themselves is a special hobby of mine, along with investing in pyramid schemes and collecting pen pals from Nigeria.

Most people would call "helping people who don't help themselves" charity but all right, fine.

A few weeks ago, I broke out of my warm and snugly hermit shell (where I was very happy I might add) and invited the woman's daughter to our house for a play date.

All right before you start with the WOE IS ME I AM A MARTYR FOR MINE LORD I would like to point out you invited her.

I hoped that the woman would stay in her car during the drop off, or better yet, just deposit her offspring on the curb, but no such luck:

Good parents often want to make sure they aren't handing their "offspring" as you call them (I prefer spawn or brood, but okay, not bad) to child pornographers.
At least I think. I don't have a lot to go off of here since I don't have children of my own, but I seem to recall my parents doing similar things and I imagine I'd do it for any child I'd have.

Even though the woman made me feel like a prisoner in my own home, I felt really bad for her and decided after she left that I would try to do something nice for her family.

"I felt really bad for her"
MISTAKE ONE.
"I would try and do something nice for her"
MISTAKE TWO.

Over the next few days, I mustered together a small army and together we secretly stocked the woman's fridge and bought her kids several Christmas presents.

"I involved others"
MISTAKE THREE.

We all felt good about our good deed.

"We all felt good"
MISTAKE FOUR.

I felt even better about our collective acts of service the day after Christmas when the mom called me with the good news that she had just bought a 60" big screen television set.

Tim thinks I should do the nice thing and volunteer to watch their tabby with IBS so they can enjoy their new home theater in peace. I'm seriously thinking about it.

Psych.

SHIT HIGH FIVE YOU SURE-- wait, no. You got taken.

"Every single thing in this room has to be clean before you can come out," I said while closing the door."
My kids took my instructions literally and dipped every single crayon we own into a bottle of Purell.

Well according to what you said that was what you were asking. Had you said "put away everything" or "pick up everything" that would have been closer to what you actually meant.
Think of it like a language class. If on a test you were asked to translate "put your shit away" into Spanish and you wrote "clean your toys" you'd be marked wrong.

Last week, my elderly friend gave each of my children two crisp one dollar bills for Christmas.

Why, you can buy-- buy-- Uhh. You can open a savings account and in five years buy a candy bar?
It's the thought that counts, though, okay.

Cortlen beamed..that is, until he saw Kellen's selection.

"I want that," said Cortlen, pointing at the remote controlled robot dog. "Let's trade."

Kellen, who hates confrontation and will do anything to please his siblings, would have handed the dog over to his brother if I hadn't intervened.

Which one had the fury of Ares in his chest or whatever?
Yeah it was Christopher. My statement stands.

"Oh no you don't," I said, pulling Cortlen away from the dog.

Cortlen screamed the entire way home.

This is where the Spartans would train their children to wait until an opportune moment and steal the dog, but I don't think children are trained like that anymore.
Probably best. Opportunistic people are usually called dicks, or CEO.

"I want that dog so baaaaad!" he cried.

Kellen had seen his brother suffer enough. He asked me if he could give Cortlen the dog.

Although Kevin is altruistic and sympathetic to the suffering of others. I guess that means he has... The... Heart of Apollo? I don't know this analogy is getting a bit tangential now.
God of healing and medicine, you know.

"Why don't we ask the dog who HE wants to live with?" I suggested.

Cortlen clapped his hands with excitement.

With the push of a button, the dog let out a loud bark.

"He picked Kellen," I translated.

Cortlen threw himself off the couch...but not before I snapped a picture.

I'm sure there are any number of things you could do or say to alleviate this or at least teach a beneficial lesson, but I guess taking pictures of your child suffering for the sake of your own amusement and the amusement of strangers on the internet is reason enough to do something.

200: number of my husband's former classmates who will hear through the alumni grapevine how well we are handling four children.

Huh, so that's what happens to some people in college. They make 200 friends.
I can count on one hand the number of friends I've made in college.
Oh well guess I'll have to settle for 120% on tests.

0: number of

PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT THIS.

3: number of children who asked me with a straight face if they could have ice cream when we got home.

Yes. Yes you can.

His most recent round of IVIG and RBC transfusions gave him a much needed boost. However, Cameron's most recent labs show that the virus is starting to attack his bone marrow again, albeit at a slower rate than before.

If I were Kevin's parent I would probably show him this shit and explain to him who doctors are and what they do, because I'm guessing someone who "would do anything to please his siblings" might be interested in things like that.
You know instead of guiding your children to being petty douche bags I'd take their natural gifts and guide them to being CEOs and doctors.
You know, successes.

The other night my phone rang at 8:30pm. Normally I wouldn't pick up at such an ungodly hour, but I didn't recognize the number, so of course I did.

>8:30 PM
>ungodly
wat.

"I have a rectal fissure!" whispered the raspy voice at the other end.

I'm still laughing. I wish I could receive a call like this.
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FISTING JOKES I'VE COME UP WITH IN THIS PAST 30 SECONDS?

The woman on the line identified herself as a friend of a friend of a friend from the community pool. I had never officially met her, but I remembered her gold lamé swimsuit. She had heard through the grapevine that I was an expert in bleeding butt ulcers and wanted to meet in person to discuss hers.

"Really? Call a doctor." That would be my serious advice, after "maybe stop starring in so many anal fisting pornos."

Last night, a sweet reader sent me an email asking for your thoughts and prayers.

I don't have either of those things.

In an attempt to mix things up a little bit, I suggested that the experienced crafters write messages to their parents on the pieces of paper.

"What nice things does your mom do for you?" I asked the guests.

Christ all mighty they're trying to hang out, can you please make this less like school?

In addition to taking piano, oil painting, horseback riding, ballroom dance, and Chinese language lessons, Camber also plays the violin on a third grade level.

Well la-de-fucking da, lady. Also aren't you the woman who said on TV that your children "aren't special, but profoundly normal"? That sounds rather gifted if you ask me.
I want you to look up the painting "Cornelia Pointing to Her Children as Her Treasures" by Angelica Kauffman and study it for a long while. I think it'll make you a better parent.
WHAT, YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THE WIFE OF EMPEROR TIBERIUS? I DON'T THINK SO, TREASONOUS HARLOT.

He also inherited the family genius genes.

Yeah right. You may be smart but I'll tell you one thing you don't have:
WISDOM. GODDAMN.
All right that's it. That's what I have for today.
I think Friday it'll be back to business as usual, but to quote the Ordinators from Morrowind, "Go about your business, but we'll be WATCHING you. Scum."
That's right, I'm officially opening THE MEANEST CUNT WATCH for business.
Expect periodic updates on this.