Aug 112010

Chooch is going to be in for a shock when it comes time for school portraits and the photographer doesn’t pull out an animal mask or a tube of fake blood.

In other awesome parenting news, I spent a whopping two hours with him at the playground today. If this isn’t your first time reading this shitty blog, you should know how amazing and unusual that statement is. Being an anti-mom, I try to avoid any situation which is going to potentially pit me against other moms.

Playground Moms.  They are Massengill-filled sausages, I fucking swear to god. I can’t stand them. They are all sit around in snobby cliques looking down their noses at the other moms who aren’t cooze-y and granola enough to be included, like me and this other broad who was also sitting alone. And I have to say, if I was forced to interact with ANY of them, it would have been her.

Meanwhile, as the twatty hens were clucking away about apple sauce (I’m not lying), not one of them was watching their children and I had to go and herd a bunch of them away from the parking lot, all the while scowling at their asshole birth vessels on the way back.
Oh well. At least I got to work on my tan.

  2 Responses to “Bloody Chooch”

  1. Look at Chooch! Way to go! I wish Chad would let me do that kind of stuff for fun. He has the same shirt by the way and I love it! Lucky boys, their mommies know what’s up. I know what you mean about those playground moms…Yikes! I always try to dress my best for those days and put on my most devil-tastic shirt with some steal toes or creepers or something. Then I go interact with their kids!!!!

    • I love you!

      It’s so dumb. Sometimes I’ll actually be all upset about it, like, “Why don’t those ladies ever want to talk to ME?” but then I quickly snap out of it. It’s not me, it’s THEM! They’re so busy talking out loud about how awesome they are as mothers, and I’m like, “That’s great, then go WATCH YOUR KIDS!” Jesus!

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