The Week In Review


We had a rather boring Sunday at the Dogs on Drugs household today. It was raining and in the mid-40’s, and so since outdoor activities weren’t an option we decided to hit up Target for a few odds and ends, and then the grocery store. So for well over two hours, I sounded like this. “Put that down! Don’t touch! Don’t touch! You are so touching! Stop it! Come here! Get off the floor! Hands in your pockets! You are not just looking, goddamit, you are punching holes in that ground beef with your grubby little thumbs! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? DID SOMEONE GIVE YOU GUYS FUCKING SPEED? SETTLE THE FUCK DOWN!”

I don’t know what comes over my kids when we leave the house. They can be sitting calmly at home, drawing serene tableaux of our family merrily camping in the woods one second, and the next second they are hurtling their bodies down an aisle of the grocery store as if they are trying out for the Olympic Frozen Food Luge Team. And to judge by what I saw today, my five year old son looks to be a lock. He will be standing there one minute, mangling produce, or perhaps picking his nose, and then all of a sudden he will be sliding head first, on his back, past a group of people looking at beets.

Meanwhile, my eleven year old daughter is on a mission: She’s at that awkward age where looking good is finally starting to win out over her previous look which, as far as I was ever able to tell, was that of a homeless blind girl. And so while we’re looking at waffles and cuts of meat, she’s as far away from us as is permissible by law, looking at eyeliner, mascara, foundations, and a trowel to put it on with. After she decides that she has spent enough of my money on herself, she comes back, dumps it in the cart, and happily assists my son in poking holes in food containers.

My daughter wouldn't think that this is too much makeup. She'd think it was a halfway decent start.

My daughter wouldn't think that this is too much makeup. She'd think it was a halfway decent start.

My three year old, on the other hand, is relatively easy to control as his little ass is confined to the cart. He’ll whine that he wants to walk, or that he needs to potty for the fourteenth time, or just whine to hear the sound of his tiny little chipmunk voice, but I control where he goes so I don’t have to worry about him as long as I keep the cart in the exact middle of the aisle because I’ve learned that he can clear a shelf of every last jar of fucking spaghetti sauce in a microsecond, (although he does take his time when laughing at the poor bastard who has to clean it up).

After all that, we pile everything in the car to go home and have this argument the whole way home.

Kids: Can we watch TV?

Parents: You watched cartoons all morning, you can go fifteen minutes without TV.

Kids: (Begin screaming and punching each other in the face)

Me: Why do we have kids, again?

Wife: I heard they take them back at the hospital, no questions asked.

Me: That’s a thought. Plus, they wax the fuck out of those hallways. Excellent luge results, I’m sure.

So in other words, it was a pretty typical day for me.

On to what you missed this week while you pointed your toes.

And now, a word from a sponsor that is about to sue us. It’s involuntary advertising:

Our latest Poll of the Moment has just closed, and the results have been tabulated using a powerful supercomputer and a lot of beer. The results:

Which would you find hardest to eat?

  • Arby's (50%, 6 Votes)
  • A beloved pet (33%, 4 Votes)
  • A despised relative (17%, 2 Votes)

Total Voters: 12

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Let’s put this in perspective, shall we? More people would rather eat a human being, and a relative at that, than eat at Arby’s. This says something about Arby’s. It also says something about relatives. I’m not saying this applies to anyone I’m related to, necessarily (wink, wink), but next time you accidentally spill A1 all over yourself, you’d better be careful about who you call to come over and help you clean up.

And that’s it, on to a new week. As Bono once sang, “It’s a beautiful day! Don’t let it get away!” Of course he also once sang “I wasn’t gonna buy just anyone’s cockatoo” (really), so what the fuck does he know? But try not to let that sodden Mick get you down. Have a good week.

20 Responses to “The Week In Review”

  1. Be careful, the hospital will ask if you kept a receipt. If you didn’t, you’ll only be able to do an even exchange, and not a return.

    …don’t ask how I know that.

  2. Becky says:

    This post made me laugh so hard my husband wondered what was wrong with me. I have had many, many, many incidents like these at Target. When it was happening, I always felt like I was the only one who had hyper kids who must touch everything and anything all the time. Tantrums? Not so much after 3. With the touching everything? Well, the 8 year old shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. The 4 year old just does everything the 8 year old does. Glad to hear that it’s not just me.

    • Greg says:

      Yeah, actually my five year old is the worst with the tantrums because he should know better, but really it’s just the not listening that gets me. There are only so many times I can say “Stop it!” before I have to drink 12 beers.

  3. Vesta Vayne says:

    Ha! We went to Target yesterday too, followed by a trip to the market. I have to hand it to you for telling your kids to stop being heathens, because we heard not ONE single reprimand. Not even when a kid hit me in the shoulder with a ball. And no, I am not kidding. My husband took one look at my face and started throwing shit in the basket out of fear I was going to go toe to toe with a first grader.

    Target is my personal hell.

    • Greg says:

      I totally understand when parents have a hard time controlling their kids. Sometimes the kids just don’t fucking listen, and removing them from the situation isn’t always an option. But if the kids are fucking with other people, the least you can do is apologize. AND MAKE THE LITTLE FUCKER APOLOGIZE TOO, because that’s usually enough to settle them down for a bit.

  4. Pish Posh says:

    I feel like you may have rigged this. I didn’t get a chance to vote but my answers would have been that it would be hardest to eat my pet, and then Arby’s and then a despised relative. But you see I’m figuring on circumstances here. If Arby’s is still an option then why the shit am I eating my pet. What kind of sick bastard do you think I am? I have no problem eating a human, on the other hand, if they really deserve it. I’m a damn good cook.

    Thanks for making me, for once, feel good that I don’t have children. Can’t you just leave them in the car? With the windows cracked open? I’m JUST KIDDING. That’s how I got the permanent pencil lead stuck in my hand. Thank’s Mom. My brother’s a wildabeest.

    • Greg says:

      Rigged the vote? Who are you, Ron Paul?

      As for leaving the kids in the car with the window cracked, in Phoenix we have fatalities every year because some moron thinks it’s ok to leave a kid in the car when it’s 116 while they go have a few beers. It’s hard to overstate the idiocy in human beings sometimes.

      But yeah, in the Midwest my mom would leave me and my brothers in the car during quick stops. That’s how we learned to use the cigarette lighter to burn circle shaped marks in the interior, or how the horn shorts out if you blow it for five minutes straight, or how much hair you can pull out of your brother’s scalp before mom gets back…

  5. Tamara says:

    Oh boy, you are my fave! I was laughing so hard as you retold my husband’s experience at every meat section visit we’ve had these past 7 years that he thought I was drunk!

    Only a little.

    Thank you so much.

  6. Rusty says:

    Makes me want to be a parent

    I have a luge team to build for 2014

  7. brennan says:

    Every time I read one of these sort of things, I’m glad I never had kids. You poor bastards – I bet you’re wishing you took that extra 10 seconds to put the condom on now.

    Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

    Regarding the polls, as I have no idea what Arby’s is, I’m sure I voted pet. My puppy wouldn’t make much more than a sandwich anyway. And I’ve always been certain Marcia was a dirty skank, regularly getting spit-roasted so she would have had the most interesting collection of STDs.

  8. Squatch says:

    Good Good, for a second there I’d misread, I thought you’d written: “On to what you missed this week while you painted your toes.”

    I thought, “Shit. He KNOWS.”

  9. Heather says:

    Oh that hurts! I’m too sick to stifle laughter that hard. The picture of your 5 year old sliding backwards on his head just about killed me!

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