when we had our first child, we were pretty intimidated with the process of getting out of the house so we would often forgo going places with all three of us. we were pussies; mainly because of the hassle of packing, the hassle of unpacking when you arrive, the possibility of drama, large crowds, etc.

it took a few months of understanding what the necessities were when taking a kid anywhere, but we got there, and we like it outside of the house. we like the warmer months where we can leave the house at 8am, get back at 2pm and feel like the rest of the day and night is ours to enjoy our home. we don’t feel trapped or bored or any of that shit.

we’re woken up by a go-get-em 2 year old at 5:45am every fucking day anyway, why sulk around the house?

so we get out there. as much of a pain in the rectum as it can be, it’s rewarding to see your kids experiencing things and enjoying the things that living outside of chicago can allow you.

but there are people out there, and if you’re one of them, i want you to fucking stab yourself in your eye and apologize the stabbing instrument for getting it dirty you fucking coozenozzles. there are people out there who feel the world is theirs for the taking and maybe i never noticed these assholes before having the twins, but i’d say about 66.6% of people have no clue that there are other people on the planet besides them.

now i dont want to insult the entire non-children-raising public, because there are alot of you fucking cockflowers out there with kids that are just as fucking ridiculously blind to the fact that you co-fucking-exist with other human beings too. but holy shit, this morning i encountered a type of person i thought only existed in the deep analls of my brain. (and my brain has many many analls)

*the scene unfolds at joel’s daycare in yorkthrill, illinoiz:
i proceed to unload my three cherubs of glee out of the dadvan (i call him “pussy magnet” when wifey’s not with us). with two carriers and a 2 year old the drill is to extract the twins first, then walk around and yank out the older one and force him with the threat of bodily harm to hold onto the handle of one carrier so as to not die by being squishy squishy.

aaaaaaaaaaand let the shuffle begin.

we’re shufflin. we’re shufflin.

we’re just about to enter into the handicapped space when a car screeches to a halt from behind us and honks its horn.

now listen motherfucker. im not one to stop traffic with my family, i mean my impecable lovehandles and my ginormous testicles might stop traffic, but come on, im walking through a parking lot of a fucking daycare, with three motherfucking kids yo.

this cocknosed vagbadge had already dropped her kids off, had entered her vehicle, put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas only to see is WALKING THE OTHER DIRECTION THROUGH A HANDICAP SPACE.

OF COURSE ITS MY FAULT FOR WALKING THROUGH AN AREA NORMALLY RESERVED FOR ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING.

**HOOOOONK**
**HOOOOOONK**

being the masculine, quick witted, super-dad with an attitude that i pride myself in being i gently drop the carrier that isn’t being held by my two year old and sing loud as fuck operatically (like opera man, ok?) “EAAAT MY AAAAASS SNATCHPANTS!”

to my dismay, this lady actually wants to start some shit rather than either apologizing or moving the fuck on like anyone else would’ve done after they realize they almost killed 4 people, 3 of which are kids under 3, by not paying attention to where they’re backing up… IN A FUCKING DAYCARE PARKING LOT of all places.

she puts the car in park and steps out of her vehicle like an overweight zepplin of unfounded rage, armed only with the flabby upper arms and crispy third chin of a woman either completely ravaged by long term steroid and bad hormone replacement drugs or who just found out her husband sold her favorite tub of lard in exchange for a subscription to “Boobs For A Dad Who Gets None Anymore” or BFADWGNA for short.

this lady wanted to brawl.

bring it on cuntwrap supreme.

i stood where we were in the safety of the handicap spot and realized that this lady needed my pity, not my anger. she needed my love, not my foot up her thick lipped gash of misery. she needed my confidence, not my fucking elbow of steel inside her stinkstar.

do i really wanna put a fat bitch down on the concrete in front of my kids? no. id only do that if someone ever fucking touched their mom in front of em. i wont even enact that occurance in words because id be arrested for even thinking the thoughts im thinking about thinking when it comes time to be thinkin about thinkin about that shit, yo. (here is where you whisper in your head “GANGSTAAAAAA”)

i think after about the 4 minute mark she realized my male verility would allow me to stand there for the rest of enternity if need be, either that or the yawn i couldnt hold back. she made a shuffle of her rack of lamb sized legs and went to duck back into her shitbox when i said like a fucking asshole “weeeeelllllllllll?”
she popped back out.
“weeeellllllllllllll? dont you have something to say to my innocent children?”

silence

“hhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

silence

“mmmmmmhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

silence

“how bout ‘hey kids, sorry for scaring you and almost running you over because i didnt look behind me and rather than just saying sorry to begin with i chose to enter into a battle of wits with the father of the frickin millenium over something so frickin simple as an apology, a head tilt and a wave.”

silence

she bent to get back in her car and left in silence. but as soon as she hit that corner out of my line of sight, boy she fuckin slammed on that gas pedal like her vagina was going to hit the back windshield from the G forces she was pilin on with her taintwagon.

so the moral of the story is, fucking pay attention. people take a lot of fucking time getting out of the house with their multiples, twins, triplets (hi @ryantrips & @tripsdad – you cockflowers), singletons, grandkids, nieces, nephews, what the fuck ever. for you to shit all over them just because you’re in a fucking hurry or too fucking selfcentered to realize that there are people outside of your fucking car that have people they love and care about too – that’s fucking, as my old drunk neighbor used to say incoherently, “thas fuckin horse hockey.”

so goiterneck with the fucking REEEEEEEE. HONK HONK HONK. STARE. when i find out where you live, im going to fucking send you every fucking piece of junk mail i can muster up.

im talkin the rascal.
the fucking valpack for vagina products only.
fucking publisher’s clearing house.
fucking sports illustrated under 77 names.

if you make a mistake, own up to it. if you scare someone’s kids, say you’re sorry.

but most of all.

STAY THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN YOU FUCKING SHAFTDODGERS!

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