My kids would be bad, but they’d be perfectly good at it.

Dispatches From the Department of Why I Don’t Have Children:

I almost never iron my clothes, so I don’t own an ironing board. This morning my shirt was a bit wrinkled…possibly because I keep clean clothes in a pile on the other side of my bed where a man should be, because I am too lazy to hang them up.

So I ironed the shirt using the living room carpet as an ironing board.

I was wearing underwear and my deodorant shirt — a beer-branded fitted tee I wear while doing my hair and makeup so any rogue deodorant marks get on THAT shirt rather than the shirt I wear to work.

I was also running late for work, and listening to a song about S&M at full volume.

Do they have a Kidz Bop “S&M?” I guess I could compromise. FOR THE CHILDREN.

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I don’t know what you talk to YOUR friends about…

Discussing life with a very pregnant ladyfriend:

Her: “We still have 10 days to go. The baby seems content to stay there forever, so who knows. Someday, I won’t be pregnant. So they tell me. It’s weird. Everywhere I go I’m like, ‘I could go into labor RIGHT NOW and that would be acceptable. Like, the baby would be fine.’ Pregnancy is a total mindfuck (brought about by an actual fuck, I suppose, haha).”

Me: “That really IS a mindfuck, now that I think about it. ‘Cause eventually the kid just decides, ‘Aaand my work in this womb is done. Comin’ at ya, Ma! Wheeeeee!’ And then she swims down like Nemo, and that ‘Y’all Ready for This?‘ song plays like it’s a sports game.”

Her: “OMG, I wish ‘Y’all Ready for This’ would play whenever anyone went into labor. Vaginas should come equipped with that pre-recorded. Also could be useful during sex?”

Me: “I’m not sure how it would work, science-ly, but I would Kickstart the shit out of technology that would enable my vagina to welcome its visiting team with a jaunty tune. Vaginal Jock Jams. Yes. Shut up and take my money.”

Mo’ mommy, mo’ problems.

Bwah ha ha… “Throw some soft cheeses into the mix, unless you’re insecure about your weight because she sure mentioned that, too. You know what, you are going to need that cheese. And all the wine.”

My personal recent Mom favorites:

  • “That’s a great length for a shirt. It covers your butt.”
  • “This totally-the-opposite-of-your-hair color/style would look great on you!”
  • “If you were going to have kids with anyone, I’d want you to have them with [Ex], because he’s smart.” (<– That one was 3 weeks ago. We broke up 3 years ago.)

Cheers, y’all!

Via Reductress: 6 Wines that Pair Well With Having Just Gotten Off the Phone with Your Mother
wine

Word to ya Moms

I debated being a jackass and posting that I’ll be spending Mother’s Day making it rain disposable, childless income on fancy brunch cocktails and new Lush products. And, don’t get me wrong, that IS what I’m doing today.

But also: Serious, non-snarky props to all my mom friends. I hate most children because I hate most people, but your kids are the best because YOU’RE the best. So thanks for raising a new generation of non-assholes. ‘Cause we all know if *I* were the one endeavoring to “teach them well and let them lead the way,” my kid would be a complete dick — he’d be late for school every day and have unexplained Cheetos in his unwashed hair.

So, as for us fruitless non-multipliers… Y’all wanna go get hammered at noon and then go buy some motherfuckin’ high-end soaps?

WE RIDE!

When your relatives ask when you’re gonna let a guy come in you…

“Your in-laws will be like, ‘Say, when are you gonna give us some grandkids?’ And they might as well say, ‘Say, when are you gonna start finishing inside our daughter?'”

I said something similar to my father once. That was the last time he asked.

This is a Nerdist podcast of Chris Hardwick’s latest standup special. I’m sure you can see/hear it online/on TV; I just happen to have found the podcast first.

Congrats, OkCupid Guy: You made a woman cry. RESULT!

FIRST message from a man on OkCupid: “If you change your mind about the kid thing let me know. You do seem like a riot! :D”

*deep breath* A few things…

1. Thanks a bunch for that cheery kick in the uterus. Much appreciated.

2. So your sole criterion for a baby mama is that she’s…funny? That’s outstanding, I can’t wait to see how your kid turns out.

3. Kids are the only thing you’d need me to change my mind about? So no worries that your profile says you “want to settle down with someone who’s in it for the long haul!” but my profile says, “I’m not looking for a relationship, just casual dating.” I want to know how you arrived at the decision to message me implying I should consider becoming broodmare to a total stranger — show your work. Or do you mean we’d default to “long haul” once I accepted my role as your cum dumpster?

4. ‘Cause surely YOU’RE gonna be the guy to change my deep-seated commitment and trust issues quickly enough to plant your seed before my last, shriveled egg fades to black? Sure, let me change my not-at-all carefully considered decision about growing a PERSON in my body, raising him/her for 18+ years, shaping them into a decent human being, getting them to school by Ass Early a.m., going into MORE debt for their basic needs and education and…Artisanal Self-Actualization camp or whatever the fuck, all so I can…what, exactly? Spend my life forever tethered to a 46-year-old fuckstick in Morgantown, PA, who’s grasping at wombs as he stares down the barrel of his spawn-less mortality? Drive 90 minutes and pay Turnpike tolls so you can jam your half-flaccid cock into me and hope one of your sleepy, disoriented sperm has enough energy to sashay its way into my Danger Zone? PASS.

*exhale*

We’ll just ignore the fact that reading the message, and writing this post, legitimately upset me, and now I have to go hide in the ladies’ room until I can Irish down this ridiculous rush of emotion brought on by some aging dickhead in the boonies.

P.S. There’s nothing wrong with 46, and I know that, science-ly, y’all could knock me up just fine. I just went with impotence because I’m an ass and it’s an easy target.