thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: September, 2013

HOTTF: The Blame Game



I guess it’s time for a Hot on the Titties post.  Right?  One of my most loyal “fans” posted this to my Facebook page this morning, in hopes that I would blog about it this morning.

I sure am.

In all fairness, you really should watch the clip.  Its’ pretty funny, and anything with Samuel L. Jackson is pretty on point.  But if you don’t, here’s the Cole’s Notes version:  A bunch of parents come up to the actor to congratulate him on his great work, and then proceed to blame him for all the stupid shit their children do.  He eventually freaks out and tells them to check the ratings, explaining to them their role as a parent.  You know, the usual common sense solution that seems so difficult to reach.

So here’s my rant.

We seem to either have parents who are so far up their kid’s asses that the children are completely unable to do anything for themselves, or parents who seem so detached that teaching the basics is everybody elses job but theirs.

Either way, the next generation is gearing up to be pretty fucking useless, unless we take a good look at ourselves.  There is a shitload of information out there.  “Do this”.  “Don’t do that.”  “Research shows”  Everybody wants their kid to do well, get an education.  Become a doctor.  Support their parents in old age.

Ok.  That last part is just me.  But you get where I’m going.

Parenting has become so fucking complicated that our kids are suffering due to our lack of common sense.  Samuel L Jackson’s video nails it.  If you’re worried about the negative impact his character may have on your child, don’t let your kid watch it. 


Forget the research.  Trust your gut.  You have instincts, follow them.  But above all, pay attention.

And follow a few simple guidelines:

1.  It is NOT your child’s teacher’s job to teach your kid to tie their shoes.  It’s yours.

2. It is NOT your child’s teacher’s job to teach your kid not to pick their nose.  It’s yours.

3. It is NOT the movie character’s job to display the type of behavior you want to model. It’s yours.

4. It is NOT your job to make your kid a sandwich, do their laundry, or wipe their ass permanently.  It’s theirs.  But it is your job to teach them how to do these things at some point.

5.  it is NOT your job to pay for everything forever.  Teach them to work for what they have from a young age.  And they probably won’t learn how to do that from a movie either.

And most importantly, turn the fucking screens off.  So that when they act like assholes, you know who to blame.

And you’ll also be able to fix it.

Right?   Happy Friday, Bitches.


Forget The Child, Save The Culture



It’s not Friday. It’s not Friday.

I know.  But I cannot let this go.  I cannot.

Here’s the link that got my heart beating and my titties burning.

There is a young boy in Manitoba who has been placed in foster care.  The child is 25% Metis, as well as a mix of European heritages.  He has been living with a Filipino family for two years in foster care and has grown to love them and recognize them as his parents.  His birth mother is supportive of the relationship and wishes him to stay where he is.

With me so far?  Does it seem like a no-brainer about where this child should reside?

But no.  Because agencies and government and people who generally don’t fucking listen or see what is directly in front of them have decided that he would be better off in a Metis family, in a culturally acceptable environment.

Are you fucking kidding me?

This comes from a concern about the multitude of Metis and Aboriginal children adopted to Caucasian families in the 1960’s.  And when those children grew up, they felt like they had no cultural identity.  There is a concern of cultural genocide.

So the government’s answer is to make a blanket statement to rip children out of stable, loving homes against the wishes of his current caregivers and biological family to right what was wronged?  In a blanket act of preserving a culture?

How come the only culturally recognizable part of him is the Metis one?  Perhaps they should send him to Holland to prevent him from losing his Dutch heritage as well.

This is such fucking bullshit I can’t even believe it exists.  There doesn’t seem to be much concern or consideration given to what’s in the best interest of the child, because we must at apparently all costs preserve the culture.

I think the problem is that someone is failing to see the forest for the trees here.  This child is obviously in a good place.  His foster (and would-be adoptive) parents seem to love him very much.  Would it not make sense to allow him to stay where he is and expose and give him access to all the culturally appropriate programs as he gets older?  To give him contact with his birth family as he so chooses?  To learn to appreciate all of his heritage, including but not limited to his Metis side?

And here’s the other thing.  We want to abolish racism and segregation.  But yet we keep perpetuating it.  It goes the other way too.  An Asian or Black couple would never be given a white baby to adopt, no matter how much they would love and provide for the child.

There is a lot of bullshit statements out there like “there is only one race, the Human Race”.  And you know why it’s bullshit?  Because nobody actually believes it.  We continue to segregate ourselves based on the color of our skin, the religions we practice and the countries our ancestors were born in.   This is no different, in my opinion. We are teaching him that race matters, where as this child only knows right now that he feels safe and loved where he is.

It’s not his job to save the culture that makes up 25% of his genetic code.  The only job he was born with was to grow and learn and laugh and love.

He can get a job later and save the world.  But he’ll have a better chance of doing that if he comes from a stable environment, whether it be Metis, Dutch, Filipino.






I Deserved This, Didn’t I?



Every use that phrase “Be careful what you wish for”?

Yeah.  I think of that a lot.  Like even though you think something will turn out all perfect and adorable the world has a way of adding a little twist.

So we’ve been the tiniest bit concerned that Destroyer wasn’t talking much.  I mean, she has a small repertoire of words that she uses and finds a way to apply to things.  In fact, we’re able to decipher pretty much all of her jargon.  For instance:

dee= bird.


All other animals are identified solely by the sound that they make rather than their actual term.

What’s you name?  “ME”.

And so on.

It’s actually quite cute and charming in it’s own way.  Unless she’s mid tantrum and then it’s completely fucking annoying because then not only can I not understand her through her tears, but trying to decipher the Destroyer lingo at the same time is equally irritating.

Anyway.  She is finally starting to repeat words and sounds back on a regular basis. Great, right?  Sort of.  Do you ever notice how distorted and fucked up toddlers pronounce things?

“What kind of duck is that?”  Remember, she thinks a duck is a quack.  With me so far?

“Blue Cock”

Oh boy.  There endeth the vocabulary lesson that day as I try not to laugh and pour a large glass of rum.

And then last week, she discovered holes.  Holes in the ground. Holes in the door jams.  “It’s a hole Mommy!”  Pretty impressive, right?  That’s a four word sentence.

I was just starting to feel relieved that she wasn’t really going to need to go to speech therapy after all.  And then yesterday she started acting like an asshole at the dinner table.

“Destroyer, don’t be an asshole.”


Terrific.  Just. Fucking.Terrific.

I was warned.  You all warned me this would happen. Nobody is going to be surprised when it’s my child swearing like a goddamn sailor.  I guess I had it coming.  Now I have a potty mouthed little devil with an angel’s face.

Hopefully, she never learns to pronounce her “F” sounds.  Then we’re in real trouble.

Pissy Panties

www.pottytime.com Do you think these would help?

Do you think these would help?

I just want to briefly complain.  You should all be used to it by now, right?

Potty training is hard.  It’s confusing and everything smells like pee.   We’ve been doing it for like a whole day now and she still doesn’t know how to tell us before she pees.

But she’s gotten really good at telling us after she pisses herself.  Because she’s helpful like that.

So I went out and bought the cute big girl panties.  She saw them, and was excited to put them on.  So we sit on the potty every half hour or so.  And with the exception of one time,  ONE TIME, sShe would do absolutely nothing on the pot and the second we take her off?  Pissy panties.

I’m sorry, but has someone been giving her beer to drink?  Who the hell goes pee that often unless they’re drinking beer or tequila paralyzers?  WHO?

I know, I know.  Let her run around naked for a few days, blah blah blah.  But bitches, I have furniture.  And carpet downstairs.  And then instead of little wet bum spots we’ll have puddles. And then the dogs will think its ok. And then I’ll be potty training all four of them.

Maybe I should just teach her to go outside with the dogs.  She does everything else like them anyway.  I’d save on diapers AND my water bill.

Whatever.  We’re going to the zoo today.  Someone will be wearing diapers for sure, because no fucking way am I dealing with pissy panties at the zoo.  I’ve got monkeys to watch and goats to play with.

So much for consistency.

HOTTF: No Best Friends Allowed



Okay.  So I just watched some stupid “news” blurb video on msn.com about weird things that schools have banned.  Most of it was pretty silly.  Banning bracelets because they distract kids during class, Uggs because kids hide their cellphones in their boots.

Kids have cellphones now?  Can I get a what the fuck?

Anyway, the above problem is easily rectified by reintroducing school uniforms.  Kids can still express their individuality at home or with a hair cut.  But if schools want to solve their problems with shit like Uggs and bracelets, they should develop and enforce a strict dress code or uniform.  The End.

Then there was mention of a school that banned dogdeball because it allowed kids to be targeted and bullied.  Of course contact sports like football and hockey are fine, because its okay to beat the shit out of each other if you’re wearing equipment.  And if its just part of the game.  But not with dodgeball.  That steps over the line.


But here’s the real kicker. A school in the UK has banned best friends.  Yes.  Don’t rub your eyes, bitches.  You did in fact read that right.

I’m sorry, but didn’t we just ban dodgeball as an act in the war on bullying?  So I have an idea, let’s ban close friendships and not allow children to form peer groups.   Doesn’t having a good group of friends who are willing to stick up for you part of the preventative medicine for bullying?  I think a child is much less likely to be bullied when they have a tight group of friends about them.  Or did I miss something?

The school is apparently concerned that having “BFFs” encourages clicks.  So what?  Different people have different interests.


But what I do get is this:  Kids have always been mean.  They pick on kids who are easy targets.  And if you have your friends around you, you’re not an easy target.  I never ever once got bullied when I was with my friends, but when I was alone or the outsider in an environment, the vultures descended.

Of course then I also grew up and bought some big girl panties and nobody ever tried to bully me again.  But that’s a whole other post.

The other reason the school doesn’t allow BFFs is because the fights that may occur between the children is too traumatizing and emotionally difficult.  Seriously?  THIS is how we are teaching our children to resolve conflict?  Avoid it?  Don’t build meaningful relationships because you might have an argument?

And we wonder why the divorce rate in the Western world is so high.  We don’t know how to resolve anything anymore.

The world is seriously going to shit.  No wonder I drink.  People are fucking retarded.  And by people, I mean the ones in charge of shit.

Happy Hot on The Titties.


8.7 years

So yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary.  Just about an eternity if we lived in Hollywood.  And a pretty good show for the average North American couple I would say.  Apparently, the average length of time a couple stays married in the US is about 8.7 years.

We’re almost there.  But we’re nowhere near divorce.  And here’s why:

1.  We actually genuinely enjoy the same things.  Which means we can do stuff together, with or without the kids and it’s not a chore for one of us.  Except if we bring the kids.  Then everything’s a fucking chore, but at least we’re in it together, right?

2. We’ve had that fight.  You know, the one where we decided to get divorced.  Actually, we’ve had it several times.  We’ve become really good at it.  But you know what?  We’re still kicking.  The thought of actually going through with it is more awful than any fight induced insult we can throw at each other.

3. I could simply not be single, unless I want to live in the 1980’s.  I would not be able to set up a tv.  Or my phone.  or my computer.  I am a slave to my husband’s technological savvy.  In this area, I admit weakness and will say that I need him.

4. He could not be single unless he plans to starve to death.  The only reason I let him in the kitchen these days is to make coffee and do the dishes.  So you see?  He is weak and needs me too.  Yin and Yang, right?

5. We just bought our first brand new car as a couple.  And you know what a brand new car costs?  A shitload of money that neither one of us could afford alone.  And seeing as it’s a 7 year car loan……here’s to another 7 years of marital bliss, baby.

6. Our brand new car seats 8.  Which means I still may be in the market for another baby.  I need a penis to make that happen, and I have a piece of paper that says I own his.  That’s what a marriage certificate is, right?  Penis ownership?

7. My Destroyer and her Little Buddy are seriously the best babies ever made.  And Husband gets half the credit there.  Which means even if he’s being an asshole, he racks up tons of not-asshole points for being a great dad.

8.  We really are still in love.  Busy, but in love just the same.

9.  He knows all my secrets.  If he left me, I’d have to kill him.

10. I don’t like to not be the best at the things I do.  So if the average marriage is 8.7 years, we have to stay married at least 50 to be the best.  Right?


Happy Anniversary. Here’s to at least another 1.7 years.

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