Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Dear Dickbag:

Dear Dickbag:

I am not here solely to clean up after you. In the future, when you use a dish, WASH IT. Do not leave a sinkfull for me to clean after you and your jackass friends watch football. You are a douche.

Jackass.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Dear MS:

Dear MS:

I'm so glad you learned how to dial 911 in case of an emergency! Just so we are clear, an emergency IS NOT:

-that you need a bandaid.
-that I'm not paying enough attention to you.
-that you want fruit loops.

An emergency would be me trying to drown you in the tub or clubbing your father over the head with a frying pan repeatedly until he is unconcious (because he implied that I am not watching you close enough. However, when you are lying in your bed watching Star Wars, how am I supposed to know that you have gotten a phone and dialed 911?).

In the future, please stay away from the phone. Period.

Thanks!

Love,
Mommy

Thursday, November 3, 2011

You know that book Shit My Kids Ruined? (click the pic below to buy your own copy. It makes a nice baby shower gift) How sad that it is my life. And why should this bitch be making money off her misery when all my misery gets is a fucking whole lot of credit card debt?




MS threw the Wii remote through the flat screen TV.  You would have thought that he would have learned his lesson after throwing the Wii remote through the window last year, but NO.  He had to throw the fucking thing through the fucking TV. Oh, and BS put a crayon in the toaster and then tried to toast a waffle.  Plus I think he also broke the Tassimo.

Incidentally, if we didn't have a stupid flat screen TV (which I told my husband NOT to get, as there was nothing wrong with our fucking TV, but he just HAD to get it anyway), the fucking TV would never have broken, and I wouldn't have an extra bill to pay, but whatever.

I'd like to thank my mother in law for saving MS' life by calling my husband at work and telling him "if you lay a hand on that kid I will fucking kill you. Punish him, but don't you dare hit him. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING HOLES I HAD IN MY WALLS BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR STUPID PLAYSTATION AND FUCKING SPORTS? It's a material thing, it can be replaced". 

Yes, retardation is passed down from father to son, as I lost many a prized possession due to flying remotes when the Yankees were having an off day.