People Who Need Smacked
July 16, 2009 at 10:46 am
No deep thoughts in today’s post, Internet. Just a list of some people who need smacked. Feel free to add your own!
First on the list: Whoever’s fault it is that I have to leave this face each morning.
The uptight a-hole who wrote in to the paper about how he was deeply offended by both Spring Awakening and Avenue Q, but HAD to attend both shows as they were part of his season subscription package at the local theatre. Fuckwad McGee said he knew the content of both shows before attending and wasn’t interested in seeing them, but was simply FORCED to go because he had already paid for the tickets. This is possibly the most idiotic stream of logic I’ve ever heard, as this buttmuncher is apparently totally unaware of a little thing I like to call Craigslist, or the concept of just GIVING the offensive tickets away. Also, if he knew he didn’t like the shows, why the FUCK did he buy a subscription to the entire season? Oh, wait. So he could complain about it and totally ruin my day. Right.
The endless Michael Jackson coverage. Not really a person, but it needs smacked nonetheless. Look, I loved MJ, I really did. But the dude has been buried and memorialized and I think we’ll be just fine if we start talking about something else already.
Whoever in my office keeps having assplosions in the 4th floor bathroom. Seriously. If that is how you’re pooping these days, you should probably be on a fucking gurney somewhere instead of sharing your sunshine here at the office.
While I’m at it, what the fuck is up with the office fridge? More specifically, who the hell brought HALF A WATERMELON to work back in June, and has left it to rot in the refrigerator? Did Gallagher get hired when I was on leave?
I was going to make a joke about bringing a tarp to staff meetings, but LOOK AT THIS PICTURE, INTERNET. It needs no help from me.
Everyone who tried to scare me with their sleep-deprivation and “You’ll never eat at a restaurant/see a movie/feel anything but soul-crushing despair again” horror stories while I was pregnant. I know I’ve only been at this gig for three months, but I just have to give those fuckers a BITCH, PLEASE. Yes, I am tired most days, and no, we cannot up and go bar-hopping whenever the mood strikes, but with a little planning and COMMON FUCKING SENSE, there is no reason why your life has to come to a total screeching halt once you have a baby. Why is it that I had to rely on COMPLETE (but awesome) STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET to tell me what has proven to be true: having a baby doesn’t mean you will lose yourself in a huge pair of Mom Jeans and never be able to leave the house again. Internet, I honestly cannot think of one thing that has changed in my life since Sadie was born that is any more awful than the normal annoyances of my previous child-free existence. In fact, things bother me LESS now that I know I have that cooing bundle of fucking awesomeness waiting for me at home. The only thing that has really changed is that I have discovered an ability to love someone in a way I never knew was possible, and that is most certainly a positive development. What people DON’T (but should) tell first-time parents-to-be is that when the baby is born, any and all shifts in your life will be ones you WANT to make, that you will RELISH in making. For example, this is the first summer in years that I have not been involved in theatre, and as much as I love to act, I DON’T GIVE A SHIT. In fact, I was offered a chance at a part with a company that I love (that pays! And nicely!), and I didn’t even try for it because I’d rather spend my evenings changing diapers and making Sadie smile, thanks anyway. So THERE, haters with your horror stories. Go make yourself useful and drive Assplosion McGillicuddy up there to the hospital or something. Stop trying to frighten people with your story about The Time I Had To Get Up At 4am To Feed The Baby, OOOOOO! SCARY!
And also? SACK UP. I can think of far worse things than seeing this face, even at 3:45am when I’d rather sell a kidney than get out of bed.
People who make judgments – one way or another – about breastfeeding and/or working moms. First of all, thanks to those of you who left supportive comments re: my breastfeeding freakout. It helps to know I’m not alone in that. What doesn’t help are people like the TOTAL STRANGER I met over Memorial Day weekend who asked me if I was breastfeeding, and when I said yes, replied with, “Good. Keep it up,” in such a hard tone I have to imagine she would have really let me have it had I told her I was giving Sadie formula. Not five minutes after THAT, she asked me point-blank what my leave from work situation was, and when I told her about being able to take my 12-week leave (which I was SO HAPPY about, since I originally thought I’d only be able to take 6 weeks), she said, “Oh, that’s AWFUL.” Say WHAT?! Look, lady: while it’s true I’m not thrilled to pieces about coming back to work, who the fuck are you to offer commentary one way or another? Bitch, you don’t know my life! I later heard someone ask Little Miss Judgeytits what she’d been up to lately, and she replied with, “Staying home and raising my babies,” which I KNOW wasn’t said as a judgment on me, but man, it sure felt like it. OH! And then, yesterday in the office kitchen a coworker asked how Sadie was doing. I said she was fine, but that I missed her and that I am glad she’s at home with Brad for another month before daycare starts. “Yeah,” the coworker said, “Daycare can be tough.” Sensing that he might have some words of encouragement/comfort for me re: daycare (and I am ALL ABOUT hearing endless comforting words about daycare), I asked him how the experience was for him. “Oh, we didn’t end up using a daycare,” he said. “Those places are awful. We decided to just make some small sacrifices so my wife could stay home and raise the baby herself instead of using a daycare. They’re terrible places.”
WHAT THE FUCK, COWORKER?!?! I don’t really think he MEANT to make me feel like a horrible, selfish hellbeast of a mother for sending my baby to daycare, but MISSION FUCKING ACCOMPLISHED, ASSWIPE. Seriously, he knows I’m a first time mother who is sending her daughter to daycare, and THAT’S what he has to say to me? I’m EVER so thankful for your kind words, friend!
And if you find your yogurt is missing from the office fridge, it’s DEFINITELY not because I stole it, peed in it, and threw it out the window of my speeding car.
IDIOT DRIVERS who really need a tailpipe shoved up the ol’ pooper. This is so lame to complain about, I know, but I’ve almost gotten into an accident every single day this week thanks to all the fucking amateur Evel Knievals out there. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have to make my usual morning & evening commutes for 12 weeks, but HOLY SHIT I have been just floored lately by the moronic shit I see people do behind the wheels of their cars every day. I submit that rude/reckless drivers are just like Internet trolls: they use their relative anonymity to act like TOTAL FUCKING ASSHOLES because they’re pretty sure they can get away with it.
Would actually be a refreshing change.
Whoever is responsible for Sabra hummus not being fat and calorie free. Because mama could eat a gallon drum of that shit in one sitting, for real.
Let me love you the right way.
Tootsie’s veterinarian, whose office keeps sending me reminder postcards to the tune of “Our records show it’s time for Tootsie’s 6-month checkup!” “Please bring Tootsie in for a dental screening!” “Tootsie’s due for a trim and some highlights!” and so forth. Look: Tootsie is a totally healthy (albeit recently attention-starved) indoor cat. She needs a yearly checkup, and that’s about it. Stop trying to guilt me into bringing her to the damn vet’s office every other month! If Tootsie could talk, I know for a fact she would say two things: “When is that baby leaving?” and “Please, for the love of all things holy, do not take me anywhere in the car unless I am at death’s door, because the stress alone takes 3 years off my life.” Actually, now that we’re talking about Tootsie, I’ll throw in a quick update on how she’s doing for those kind souls who have inquired: Tootsie still keeps herself pretty much sequestered in our bedroom on the third floor, but we’ve been sleeping in our own bed (after 2.5 months of sleeping in the 2nd floor bedroom across from the nursery) now that Sadie has been sleeping pretty much through the night, and this thrills Tootsie to no end. And that’s very nice and heartwarming and all, but Tootsie chooses to show her enthusiasm for our return by purring in my face and sitting on Brad’s head in the middle of the night.
Tootsie sez: You assholes really have some gall complaining about ME.
People with Ph.D.s who CANNOT SPELL. I have a good laugh when you repeatedly spell common “comman,” but then I remember that you are my boss and make three times my salary and force people to call you “Doctor,” and I cry a little.
OK, Internet: Your turn. Who needs smacked? And why? And would you like for me to smack them? Because I will.
Right after I smack my past self for thinking I never wanted to have a baby. Also: OMG THOSE CHEEKS NOM NOM NOM.
Entry filed under: Taste my Backhand.