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as the twins get older, we get more daring in the face of going out in public. sure the twins were immobile little balls of stationary drool just a few months ago, but now that they’re gabbling and crawling, they can interact with their surroundings which makes taking them out in public a bit more fun. for instance, when someone you don’t know comes over to the twimo (twin stroller/the limo) and peeks inside and makes either an attempt at a funny face or says hello in a pitch only dogs can hear, I adore the fact that my daughter will give them the look of: what the fuck are you doing in my face you fucking taintscraping coozemoose?
the look of disdain from a child under a year old is priceless. but the look upon the face of the person with whom the precious bebe is delivering the look to is fucking CLASSICALLY ADDICTING. i almost want to take my daughter out in public more just to have her give her awesome “you’re a fucking idiot” scowl at some of these jagbags. she can make a grown man’s knees buckle with her two-toof grin, but can make a 55 year old successful business-woman or 75 year old grandmother tear up at the sight of her scowl. she is my middle finger, while at the same time requiring diapers like a real human, she is my extended middle finger. delivering “fuck you cuntwrapsupreme”‘s to these fools on the reg while i’m at work bringin in the dolo.

but this blog post doesn’t actually focus on the awesome that is my daughter. no, this blog post is actually titled “butt the fuck out” because as you may have picked up on from other parents of multiples and my previous blog posts “PEOPLE ARE REALLY FUCKING ANNOYING” when it comes to people with multiples out in public.
yes, we’ve dealt with the daily “OH! YOU’VE GOT YOUR HANDS FULL! OH HO HO HO!” and the “are they twins?” and “do twins run in your family?” and the fact that most people talk openly about how they dont envy your situation mere feet from your fucking ears.
but one of the things im realizing now as the twins are getting older and i have a better handle on corralling my three kids in public, is that many people gawk and eavesdrop without even trying to hide it. im not talking staring for a few more seconds than is comfortable, my wife spaces out too, that’s not an issue. i’m talking blatant stalking within a grocery store, a full table’s attention at a restaurant, maybe even people we don’t know at a party fully digesting everything we’re saying and doing with an open mouth gaping like the sore red-ring of a jalapeno attacked colon from a night of nachos and poppers at a local sports pub. (graphic? mmmm)

if i cared what other people thought about me i probably wouldn’t be writing a blog without capitalization or even proper fucking socially acceptable english, but you know i dont give a fuck what you think of me, but do they? do the stalkers realize that i dont find myself fascinating in that i can play zone defense with a trio of adorably awesome kids? do the fucking nosy bitches understand that i know i have a hot wife and im really fucking damn saxy myself? these love handles don’t pump themselves people.

one situation in particular really brought this whole phenomenon to a head for me over the weekend.

we’re at bed, bath & beyond, where everyone knows is not the ideal place for a twinstroller but FUCK YOU BB&B, TWIN PARENTS ARE PEOPLE TOO. so we’re returning a gift from christmas last year for some christmas gifts for this year (*AND WE’RE THRIFTY TOO YOU FUCKING NANCY DREW’S PANTY LINE SKETCHERS) and we’re doing our best to stay out of people’s way. it’s a very narrow fucking store if i had to pick one fucking word to describe it, shit’s fuckin narrow yo. well, as we’re cruising into the curtain area, my wife pushing the twimo and me pushing dylan, the awesomely rambunctious 2 year old in the rusty, loud wheeled shopping cart, i notice a pair of white ladies scopin out the fam yo.
normally i accept the circus music and AAHOOOOOGA horns that bellow when we enter public places, but this time i felt the eyes peering into my ginormous ballsack.
these ladies was up to no good. they started makin trouble in my neighborhood.

in situations with a 2 year old in public, if you fucking sit still for more than 30 seconds, that child will start to go insane. it is IMPERATIVE that you keep moving or bribe them with sweets or what they believe to be a treat. sometimes both are necessary for any semblance of concentration time to focus on the task at hand. this is common knowledge for parents.

as im zooming in between the aisles, i pick up a bright green spandex pillow and proceed to smack my kid playfully across the face. i pretend to lose control of the pillow and allow him to beat me mercilessly as i cry out in faux pain. this goes on for maybe 15 minutes with him giggling like he’s on crack and me red in the face from getting bludgeoned.
at about the 45 second mark of my beatdown, i realize that the ladies from the other side of the store are now on my other side and they aren’t holding anything or pushing a cart with anything. they are standing with their mouths agape with the older of the two gently holding on to the other’s arm above the elbow. kind of in a “dear lord, we’re all going to die” type pose.

whatever. we keep on going crazy while jules specs out the curtains. we just head to the other side of the store to look at posters so he can point out colors, shapes and animals. on the way over jules stops us and asks me to take the twins too. no biggie. anyone with twins and another kid can attest to knowing how to handle a twin stroller and a shopping cart. push the cart, pull the stroller.
so as we enter the aisle, although clumsily with the extra twin baggage, dylan starts pointing out fishies, flowers, go cubs go, giraffes, guitars, anything on any poster he knows something about the dude goes crazy dropping science like a beastie boy. as he’s into his fifth or sixth rendition of go cubs go (which we never get to sing cause we always fucking lose) i turn around to see the same damn broads creepin on a come up. this time they seem to be discussing my fathering ability because i specifically heard the words “if he thinks this is appropriate behavior” to which i had had enough of the stalking around every corner of this narrow ass, high fucking priced, shit i dont need fucking box store.

this was the fourth time i had caught them near our personal space and my wife was on the other end of the store so score one for joel’s inability to let people act like fucking cocksuckers without being called on it. rather than the usual “i wonder how they manage” type bullshit we get from people, this time it was some old childless bitches looking down their noses at us.

i intently steered my brood towards these broads and about 15 seconds before i was to make bitch-fall (like landfall, but with bitches) they realized i was heading towards them and was onto their shenanigans. i felt like a cop breaking up a makeoutparty with a bunch of teenagers. their eyes got all wide and mouths dropped even further as i pushed straight through to where they were once standing together. my two year old was whipping his bright green spandex pillow filled with daddy sweat and dylan snot all over the place.

if i wouldve heard these bitches talking in my dreams they wouldve had like hamtons accepts and ended every sentence with “dahling” but in this instance they both just said “what’er’you’do-” as we plowed onward.

in perfect “i know im an asshole, but my kids are happy, healthy and well taken care of you fucking rich bitch ass empty snatched spinster bitches” style, i merely exclaimed while passing “pardon our breaking of your silence fine sirs.” while i have no idea what i meant when i said it, i assure you, my brain gave it the green light and i delivered it in sarcasm-rich condescension.

they watched me pass by in disgust and i really wanted to get into it with them, but im learning tact in front of my children so they dont grow up and cuss as well as i do. i want kids that look uncomfortable dropping a “mohawked puss bush eatin a dandy grundle of a fucked in the arse marsupial” or a “bulging testicled, monocle sporting assfisted afterbirth of a clusterfuck” – you know?

i think people in general have the potential to be awesome, but most are so fucking confident in that they are invisible and can talk shit, stare and act like they’re better than other people, that they deserve to have their clitorises and rectums superglued to each other and fed candied yams, pickeled pigs feet and the sweet sweet nectar of the monk fish’s colon until they fucking explode from being fucking assholes.

anyone else horny right now?

no?

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