Posts Tagged ‘Shit’

i remember the first few weeks of daycare for our 2 year old when he first started, it seemed crazy the amount of preparation and shit to remember just to not piss off the daycare ladies and have everything your lil’ dude needs. we would spend two, sometimes three hours just getting everything together for the week on sunday night and then every night there seemed to be a good two hours of sporadic preparation that included laundry, dishes and list making that we would abide by.
all that shit just for one fucking baby.
so then yeah, we, uh, we got two infants in addition add to the 2 year old to add to our daycare routine now, shit, piss, fuck, tits, schmegma. granted, once the kid is eating solid food and walking everything gets easier as far as what you have to pack the night before/morning of, but that’s a year away bitch, what the fuck am i supposed to do now?

this past monday was the start of the third week with all three kids in daycare, and the second week of jules going back to work after “natural & gravitational vagina reconstruction time” or what you pussy ass bitches call maternity leave. we might not have the mechanics of actually getting out of the van and into the actual daycare perfected just yet, as the 2 year old likes to take off occasionally, but we’ve kind of worked out who does what when to make the mornings easier than that first few.

so rather than blabber and show you my titties like you broads often do, im going to break this shit down for you in the hopes that maybe my “schedule” or as i call it “what i do to try and see and my wife’s tittaaaaaays more than once a day”, will help someone think this shit through when two bebes are on the way.

going out in public is possible, but you have to work like you’re gonna get serious action that night or you will seriously want to kill your spouse. luckily for her i kill zombies and bad guys on my playstation, so im straight.

**keep in mind that we have to pre-make mason’s formula because he’s on that thickener/higher calorie formula mixture**

sunday night @ 8pm:

unload dishwasher with 10 bottles (#5 tinted brown, #5 clear), collars & nips.

prep #5 bottles for leah, all with the appropriate amount of water to mix formula in
make #1 for feeding at 8:30

make fresh 30oz container of formula for mason (only good for 24 hours so we make 24 hours worth)
pour #5 bottles for mason and refrigerate #4 and warm up #1 for feeding at 8:30

feed them hungry bitches & go to fucking bed bitch! (we probably have marathon tantric sex 8 nights a week tho)

wake up @ 4:15am, warm mason’s and make leah’s bottles, then feed at 4:30am
@5am jules’s crazy ass goes to work out
@5:45am me gets out of bed and does a spray tan (YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS NATURAL?!) – spray tan is my code word for my first shit of the day ok?
@6am dylan the 2yo ninja is up and ready for the party, i load the #4 dirty bottles in the dishwasher & snag some milko for the ninja
by 6:10am i’ve started changing and dressing the party twins for the party, jules is usually getting ready while helping dylan get ready for the party
by 6:35am both twinnies are in their carseats ready to leave, i run and put the day’s bottles, clothes and diapers in the van, dylan is waiting to watch a movie which he will not get to watch until after school. this past week it’s been “the jungle book”.
by 6:45am we have all three kids in the van and jules and i usually dip into the laundry room to have a quick asspouding sesh (im lying, she makes a shitty low calorie breakfast and i do the laundry for that night’s pajamas for all three)
by 7am im onto my second and favorite shit of the day
by 7:15am im into the shower and on to work where i save people from herpes with my cape and flower petal tattoo.
work work work save people from herpes using my herpes harpoon, i call it my herp-poon
i get home at 5:30pm, julie pulls in at 5:45pm with all three kids and we pull the unload after a quickie in the laundry room again (im lying, i just make sure she brings her coffee mug in cause i hate it when she tries to sneak off with mine, the cheeky bugga!)
i immediately load the dishwasher with the #6 bottles from daycare and start that bitch up, cause we aint made of nipples, collars and shitty leaky bottles from avent are we!

then for the next three hours its a mixture of taking turns hugging dylan, cooking dinner and doing laundry. then immediately after dinner one of us takes dylan up for a bath and gets him ready for bed while the other unloads the dishwasher and sets the bottles, collars and nipples out to dry. this is followed up every other day with a bath for the twinnies.
we are looking forward to summer so we can just hose the fuckers off.

after bathtime is over we focus all of our attention on dylan for a few minutes and enjoy how he is growing up and is the fucking man. then its dylan to bed and more laundry, dishes or other random household chore until 8:30 rolls around and we start the whole fucking process over a fucking gain.

can you tell that i wrote that in two different sits?

yeah. time has a way of not allowing us time to do the things we used to do, but motherfuckers, let me tell you THIS:
once these bitch ass kids is growns ups, i aint doin SHIT ever a fucking gain.
im talkin sponge baths and meals blended and fed to me in a straw and shit.

BEING AN ADULT SUCKS BALLS

but ill be fucked if my kids arent the bees fucking knee pads

AND COFFEE IS FUCKING DELICIOUS

I remember when I was a kid getting smacked up-side the dome for dropping a “shit” or a “damn” when I screwed something up. It wasn’t that my dad didn’t use that kind of language around me, it was that those words were reserved for only certain situations away from the public ear. I started to pick up on each cuss word’s place throughout the course of daily life and I started to understand when and were to use them. I got better and better at holding my tongue around my parents and teachers and bosses, but as soon as I was free of all formal restraints, I went fuckin’ crazy with that shit, bitches.

I also remember around 5th or 6th grade, playing football at recess and every other word you heard or used was a cuss word. Because it was a Catholic school there was this large pent up aggression towards following rules that just seemed dumb to us kids, cussing being one of them.

You didn’t say “HIKE!” You said “Fuckin’ HIIIIKE!”

It was this powerful sense of doing something wrong that brought most of us kids together as rule breakers, rebels and shitkickers.

When I got to high school, again a Catholic school, I can recall conversations flowing out of our mouths dropping well placed cuss words as verbs rather than just exclamations. Shittin’ me. Fuckin’ with me. Quitcherbitchin’. Various types of action were placed within the context of the swear, and cussing became an art form. It was a way to let off steam without punching someone, and if you shared it appropriately away from the nagging ears of teachers and parents, it was akin to drinking in public.

Then college turned me on to a whole new way of feeling people out, utilizing cuss words as a barometer for how down to earth someone was. Say you’re on an interview and the guy asking you questions and looking at you over the desk asks you about something on your resume. You describe the event or whatever without delay and he responds back like a guy you’re drinking with “You have to be shittin’ on me, you serious?”.

Boom. Open door to not only become a friend with this person, but you’ve just allowed yourself into his little club. He likes you. He just said shit in front of you on an interview. You have this in the fuckin’ bag! Soon I started noticing that if people older than myself allowed themselves to relax and drop a few swear words in front of me, I was pretty sure I could act more myself. Not that swearing was a major part of who I was, but shit, I fuckin’ cuss like a trucker when I’m comfortable, and I’m okay with that not being okay to a large number of fuckin’ people.

Now as a parent, I understand and practice restraint when talking around my kids, nephews and nieces, and other people’s kids. I don’t want my 2 year old son walking into daycare sayin’ “Holla bitches!”. (Not that I wouldn’t laugh my ass off.) Nor do I want my son to be looked down upon because his parents (or parent, Julie is half cuss queen, half nun) have dirty mouths. I want my son to learn as I did about the amazing power of using words that were once completely off-limits as a way of venting anger, frustration and letting off steam that would normally build up because of a cork in my ass that’s limiting my word usage.

I find the nicest people on the planet know how to drop a good “well, fuck” once in a while. Whether they do it alone or around a few friends is up to them, but I know that the release of stress via saying “OH SUGARPLUMS!” is probably half of what a well timed “Shit Bitch!” can allow you to feel.

In parenting I find a lot of things that piss me off that are completely dumb: Avent bottles leak all over the fucking place. Getting pooped on. Getting puked on down the back of my shirt and I don’t realize until I see the white chunks on the couch, etc. All of these things are fucking annoying. Dumb and inconsequential in the long run, but still, fucking annoying.

If I were a deadbeat, I’d drink a ton, yell at my wife and kids or take out my frustrations physically. I’m not that guy. No, I’m the guy who can relax and feel oh so much better by dropping a few f-bombs out of earshot of my 3,876 kids.

But why do you fucking cuss so much with your fingers Joel?

Simply put? It makes me feel like I’m being more honest with myself and other people if I type like how I would talk if me and you were at a bar shooting darts, taking back jaeger bombs and chatting about the fucking Cubs and Bears. If you are my friend, which you may or may not be, I hope I would feel comfortable enough to fucking cuss in front of you. If I wasn’t, well, we might not be destined to be that good of friends.

Bang your bible, throw up your nose, talk shit behind my back that I’m a caveman or a dicknose, whatever. When my kid asks why it’s okay for me to cuss and not okay for him to, I will tell him honestly:

Society deems it inappropriate that children use words like shit, damn, fuck and bitch. Why? Well, it’s language specially reserved for maturity, when you have so many responsibilities that you wouldn’t dare dream of not taking life seriously everywhere else besides talking a little shit with your buddies. When you go to work everyday, take care of your kids everyday, pay your bills on time, put food on the table and clothes on everyone’s back, you can cuss your fucking heart out.

Until then little man, cuss your ass off. Just don’t let me, your mom, your grandparents, your teachers, or other adults you don’t know hear you. You never know, those people might be shiteating bitches who don’t know the goddamn beauty that a fucking cuss word brings to the soul of those man enough to admit that there is enjoyment in saying such words.

I promise not to intentionally offend you if I meet you in public, but you got here somehow you dumb shit! Fuckin’ cheers.

I am a father that cusses. Because cuss words fucking rule.

Since late June 2009 when we found out we were being blessed with having twins, we have discovered two distinct types of people, in regards to their discovery that we are having twins. So as to not dwell or end on a negative point, I will discuss the shitfaces first.

Shitfaces:

Shitfaces are broken down into three types of people:

1. People who already have twins and are offended that you will be sharing in their experience and stealing their thunder. Nothing you can say to stand up for yourself is of any merit because you haven’t experienced what they have, yet. You are dumb, you are walking into hell, and whatever happens with your twins is easy compared to what they deal with on a daily basis with theirs.
2. People who are normally “OH YEAH?” people. Even if you just won the lottery, which we kind of just did, they won more. Even people without children have made comments to somehow insinuate that their life is more difficult, yet we haven’t insinuated that our life will be difficult, it will just be different.
3. People who immediately react with negativity from a first person standpoint, as if the misplaced empathy they feel immediately makes them feel better by saying something negative. I have actually had a good friend of mine laugh out loud as soon as I told him and instead of saying “Congrats man!” he blurted out “THAT SUCKS!!” Does it? How?

Now I’m not a vengeful person, nor do I wish ill will on these people, rather I feel sorry for folks like this. There are so many things to stand up for in life and to make one of them a negative one is beyond me. If these peeps actually feel better for having spouted something like I have mentioned above, they probably have never realized how much better they could feel if they offered advice when we’re in the weeds, or freaking out or unsure of something about the day to day logistics of parenting twins, or even just an ear on the phone if they don’t have twins, or even kids at all.

These people could set themselves up as resources, friends or the people you remember for saying really really cool shit when they hear the news.

The Citizens of Awesomeville:

The residents of Awesomeville have four types:

1. Parents of twins who instantly welcome you into the gang with a secret handshake, a knowing nod and the offering of an ear to talk into, should you need it. These folks dealt with the Shitfaces, and they know the value of positive thinking, speaking and acting. They know that the times when you are unsure about things are the times when you feel most vulnerable to negative thought and that even the smallest suggestion of a struggle on down the road can freak you out for a few days.
2. Parents of any child or children that give you the look of “If anyone can do it, you guys can do it.” One of my best friends on the planet is one of those guys who mutters things you see on the walls of corporate offices or grade schools at random times and even he was stumped, and ended up saying quite loudly as he embraced me in a giant bearhug: “You are going to kick a shit ton of ass my friend!” I need that when I’m not in front of my wife, I really do, and it is completely appreciated.
3. The people who love babies and everything about babies and make themselves honorary family members. I remember when we were just about to have our son and these people used to creep me out. I was always saying to myself “STOP TOUCHIN MY LADY’S BELLY YO!” Yet you don’t realize that as soon as your baby is born, they will shower that kid and you with love as if they are actually in your family. I have a friend through other friends that I don’t really talk to, but I picture her first when talking about these type people as she always gets up when we see her and asks to hold or hang out with my son. She doesn’t get creepy and whip out her tit trying to breast feed him, or take him into another room out of our line of sight, she’s just perfectly happy giving my family some attention because it makes her happy.
4. The people who remember. These are the people, regardless if you’re having twins, or a singleton, or getting a new job, or moving into a new house, these people, as unoften as you might see them, they remember. They ask. They understand that they aren’t in your life every day, but they want to make sure that the time they spend with you, no matter how short, is worthwhile and meaningful. Just this past weekend we went to two friends’ 30th birthday party and it was unreal. Here we are, driving an hour into the city, sweating from the walk of carrying the little dude, and watching wife waddle with the backpain and constant early contractions, and we’re being embraced genuinely. I’d guess about 80% of our friends there knew about the twins, but even those that just thought Jules was just pregnant were excited to see us and made sure to convey that excitement appropriately. None of that “WHERE YOU BEEN DUDE?” or “DUDE, YOU NEVER GO OUT ANYMORE!” or my favorite “YOUR WIFE LET YOU LEAVE THE CRIB EVER MAN?” – Mature adults realize that time passes quickly when you haven’t seen someone, but true friends don’t care how long it’s been, right now means more than all those times you weren’t out on the town knocking back jaegerbombs and playing beer pong on skyscraper roofs.

In conclusion, some people frickin rule. Some people need a good smack upside the head with their own negativity and a good one on one with their own disappointment at how their lives turned out because of their shitty attitude.

NOTE: Curse words fucking rule.

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