The Week In Review
My five year old son has this idea in his head that you die when you turn 100. “Daddy? I don’t want to turn 100,” he’ll tell me, his voice quivering with fear. “What? Why not?” “Because when you’re 100 you die, and I don’t want to die!” And so I have to rush to console him, by which I mean lie my ass off. What am I supposed to say? “Shit, most everyone dies before they turn 100! I knew a kid who died when we were in third grade!” I can’t say that, it’d melt his little brain with fear and take away from his valuable house-destroying time.
There are a lot of things that you have to lie to your kids about. Before I had kids, I used to think that I’d never do that. “I think the best course of action is always to be honest!” I’d say this because I believed it, and also, I was a complete fucking moron. If you are not a parent, let me tell you this: You know fuck-all about what you should or shouldn’t do with your future kids. Anyone who says shit like “always be honest with your kids” is an imbecile. Honesty? My son is also very interested in college and will ask me quite often what it is like. You are as high as I was in college if you think I’m going to answer that question honestly to a five year old.
So, sure, you lie about some pretty big things when you have kids. You do it because it’s your job as a parent to shelter your kids from the harsh realities of life until they are ready. But there are an awful lot of little things you’ll lie about as a parent too. Before my two boys could read, I’d go to change the channel for them and they’d immediately ask, “Is SpongeBob on?” I have had nothing but fucking SpongeBob on TV for the last ten years, so I’d use my kids’ illiteracy to my advantage. “Ohhh, no! Sorry, guys, SpongeBob isn’t on!” And of course, right there on the guide, it clearly shows that not only is there a SpongeBob marathon on two channels, but the SpongeBob SquarePants movie is on a third channel. “Too bad, guys!”
Hey, let's watch some Cinemax!
If you’re a parent, I’m sure you’re familiar with this one: You’re reading a bedtime story, and after the first three pages you realize that there are a hell of a lot more words in this book than you realized. It’s like the War and Peace of children’s books. You could read the whole thing and your kid would get to bed around 9:00, or you can get a little creative with the page turning and go have a dozen drinks.
“One day, Thomas the Tank Engine awoke to the howling of a great wind. ‘Bust my buffers!’ Thomas said, ‘It looks like a storm is coming!'” (subtly turn forty-eight pages) “…and Thomas and Percy agreed to never argue again. The End.” This, incidentally, is how all books about Thomas the Tank Engine should be read, because that little blue asshole is fucking annoying. Bust my buffers? You know who says that? English pedophiles, that’s who.
Anyway, once you start noticing that you tell little lies to your kids to make everyone’s life a little easier, you notice that you do it a lot. “No, we can’t go to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner because… They’re closed! Yeah, they had a rodent problem and needed to put some large rat traps out. I have a feeling we won’t be seeing Chuck E. Cheese for a while.” You don’t lie to be a prick or because you’ve got some sort of psychological quirk. You do it because, at a certain age your kids turn into tantrum machines, and it’s just a whole lot fucking easier if you tell them that Disneyland exploded instead of the real reason, which is that you don’t feel like dropping seven thousand dollars on stuffed animals right this minute.
Then there are the lies you tell not because your kids aren’t ready or able to handle the answer, but rather because you aren’t ready. “Daddy, where do babies come from?” “Sears. Go get daddy a beer.”
Thanks, son! Now never ask daddy a question ever again.
On to the week you missed because you were trying to explain to your kids that mommy and daddy were playing naked leap-frog:
- On Tuesday, I complained about fucking taxes. Real original.
- On Wednesday, we took trip into a magical land called Batshit Insanity Land, also known as Japan.
- On Thursday, I once again admitted committing various illegal acts, this time centered around forged documents.
- On Friday, fans of furry hockey pucks rejoiced at learning that they had gained admittance to Heaven.
Wow, I just reread what I’d written and noticed I need to go clean up quite a few f-bombs before my sponsors start complaining. I’m not going to be very thorough, however, because I have no sponsors. Just a huge stack of unpaid bills which won’t be paid by this ad. It’s Involuntary Advertising:
The Poll of the Moment has just closed, and there is near-rioting in the streets because it was another close one:
[poll id=”12″]
As you can see, we have determined that the reason Smurfs are blue is because they are commonly used as the butt-plug of choice by Blue Man Group. The margin of error on this poll is absolutely zero. We have proven it to be true, and Blue Man Group must pay for their horrific crimes.
He said what? With SMURFS!?!
Another day, another lawsuit from the Blue Man Group. Enjoy your week, everyone.
Bwa ha ha ha. Glad to know I’m not the only one who makes shit up to help life run smoother. God knows if I only told the truth we’d never even get past breakfast. Also glad to know I’m not the only one who skips sections of pages in a book that I’ve read eleventy bajillion times. Seriously. Dr. Seuss is just not THAT awesome.
Yeah, I remember not having a problem with Dr. Suess, and then I had to read my dauhter the story about Oobleck. Holy shit, dude! WORDY!
I don’t have kids, I am not going to tell you how you should raise them.
I’m just going to remind you I have no kids 🙂
Mwahahaha! Freedom! Mwahahaha!
Agreed! Life without germbags is a beautiful thing.
Yeah, but then you’re missing the wonder of a hug and a kiss, a toothless smile, the first day of kindergarten, your first trashed big screen TV when they decide to play tic-tac-toe on it with a knife, the first time they start something on fire, having your car destroyed, having the police show up with your kids… You know what? Never mind.
Exactly… I remember being the perpetrator of those moments from my own childhood. I’ve never thought having a mini-me around would be fun.
I could never raise a mini-me. I would totally kill myself. Ba ha ha ha ha! *ahem*
Oooh, this means war. I am sending a ballistic missile your way, with a triple warhead: My kids.
How many stamps would it take to send three kids in the post?
If I jam them into a flat rate package, not many.
i cursed the satellite company when they started putting pictures along with titles on the Guide screen; difficult to say ‘No, SpongeBob isn’t on’ when she sees that stupid little yellow sponge with the big eyes.
Yeah, I never realized how much I fibbed about the guide until my middle son began to read. BUSTED!
My folks never had to lie about the TV listings, they’d just watch what they wanted to whether I liked it or not. I’d notice in TV Guide that this or that show was on, and the response was along the lines of, “Good to hear, professional bowling is what we’re watching”. Or, if I was lucky, The Lone Ranger.
So I told myself, “I’ll just learn to appreciate pro bowling”. It didn’t work, of course. It was fucking pro bowling. Even a little kid could feel the Lame Waves emanating from the TV. Then I’d just read the TV Guide listings. Or go outside.
Didn’t harm me in the least bit, though. I’m all A-OK…
*taps vein*
*shoots up heroin*
Oh, man. Everything is SO A-OK, it’s fucking awesome…
I hear you. My mom once turned off the Final Four to watch Wheel of Fortune. In syndication.
I have no kids due to an excellent surgeon agreeing to sterilize me. One of the ways I tried to convince my doc to do the surgery when I was very young was by telling him I intended to have a child, teach it the wrong words for everything and then stand behind one-way glass on its first day of school. Clearly, I totally support lying to kids.
You lucky bastard. My doctor would not help me find a surgeon to do the deed because she said, “you’re 25, you might change your mind someday.”
Goddammit, I should have pretended I had some psychological disorder that made me prone to eating tiny children. However, I was a nanny and a preschool teacher at the time, and I guess that would have eventually led to me losing my income.
I love kids as long as I can hand them back.
You and your wife are saints Greg, hang in there!
It wasn’t easy. I tried for years, but doctors apparently know me better than I do. I had to wait until I was 28. It was the most excellent day of my life. I even have a framed pic of the clamps. http://www.rockthesinglelife.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Beautiful-Sterility.jpg
Hang in, keep telling your doc all the horrible things you want to do to a kid… it’ll come eventually.
Actually, after a long and glorious single life (much like your own) fate had me fall in love with a guy who’s already been snipped. Yipee Ki-yi-yay!
Nice! The guy I married (and left before the ink was dry on the docs) was snipped too – I probably should have looked past that before the whole “I Do” thing, but I totally get your “Yipee Ki-yi-yay!” 🙂
My single life has been *short* and glorious. Prior to 2010, there was a loooong stretch of dudes in and out of my life. I’m hopeful that I’m cured of that now. Being single and childless is so excellent.
“I intended to have a child, teach it the wrong words for everything and then stand behind one-way glass on its first day of school.”
Did you see the movie Dogtooth? Because that’s what I thought of when I read your comment.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSxDw7HElxE&feature=related
Ha! No, I haven’t seen it, but it looks fantastic.
Steve Martin does a similar bit in Wild and Crazy Guy. He teaches his kid wrong so when he gets to kindergarten and wants to go to the bathroom he says, “Mambo fusebox down by the banana patch!”
That’s awesome! I told my doc I’d do ‘turkey penis toothbrush?’ for ‘how are you?’ and ‘knobgobbler’ for ‘yes.’ Somehow, he always believed I’d decide I wanted kids. I was 26 when he told me he’d do it at 28, so I made an appointment for my 28th birthday, walked in, and threw my ID on his desk. “Cut me open already!”
As an aside: What gives a complete stranger the right/authority to decide when I’m allowed to get my tubes tied? I have the right to have an abortion, but not the right to make sure I never have to make that choice. WTF?
Well, I’d say that a doctor has the right to refuse to perform an irreversible (or not easily reversible) procedure that he believes may result in him being sued.
If you exaggerate the situation, and say it was a drunk guy coming in and asking a doctor to cut off both of his legs, for example, I don’t think anyone would blame the doctor at all for refusing. Your situation, while not that extreme, is still in the ballpark, and I understand his reluctance.
Still: Glue gun, bourbon.
Doctors are so lame. I would’ve done it, no questions asked. I’d just need a hot glue gun and a whole shitload of bourbon.
And would the bourbon have been for you or me?
Both. It’s a party.
Nice… if I’d known you a few (okay, many) years ago, I’d be all in.
Re: legs cut off vs. tubal ligation above… I do understand what you’re saying, and I did understand my doc’s concerns. But when I was 12 years old asking my parents for a hysterectomy for my birthday, I wasn’t kidding. I spent my teen years and most of my 20s being told I would change my mind like I’m some kind of idiot. I definitely am some kind of idiot, but not that kind. And it’s always burned my ass that someone else had control of this decision.
Look, Vaselline isn’t very good for your vagina either. It’s not water soluble. So next time you’re playing with your vjj keep that in mind.
My brother was just telling my mom yesterday about how she used to lie when he had to get shots – “this won’t hurt at all, hey look at that airplane!” and that she was a terrible stinkypants liar and you could always tell when she was lying.
I am sad that my schedule has made me miss some Dogs posts but I’m glad that at least the reason is I’m in Cali away from hellhole-place.
Everyone knows that the best lube is Vick’s Vap-O-Rub.
My mom was always brutally honest with the shots. “Ok, Greg, this will hurt, but just for a short moment.” The nurses would shoot NASTY looks at her, but afterwards they’d say “I can’t believe that worked. Most kids won’t sit still if they know it’s going to hurt.” “Well, my son doesn’t like being lied to.” That hasn’t changed.
Hey, good thing you can kick back and browse through all the posts you missed when you get a chance. Remember, there WILL be a test!
Wow. I bet her boobs weigh twice as much as hear head.
You talking about Ms. Cinemax? Yes, I hear silicone is heavier than air.
I’m a horrible fake-boob judge. Also, I can’t spell when using my phone to comment….
You should hang out with my wife & I in Vegas. We sit there at the bar, people watching, playing a game called “Real or Fake?” Fun for everyone. Not really. Just fun for us.
Rimshot!