Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Mauve Squirrel Delivers Seven Forks!

It pains me to have to break it to you but honestly, my kids are SO MUCH COOLER than your kids.

..no, I don't wanna hear it. Truthfully. I don't. There is no way that your kids could possibly be cooler than my kids. It would be both retarded and terribly sad of you to try and compete by telling me sad, lame little tales of purportedly 'kewl' things your kids have done. Seriously. Unless your kid is Stephen Hawking.
...please don't tell me you actually BOUGHT that wheelchair routine.


1. My daughter has a degree. A non-traditional degree. My daughter is a fricken' STRUCTURAL ENGINEER.
A FRICKEN' one.
I must also point out that she is COOL engineer. She does NOT eat with her mouth open or pick her nose in public. Neither does she collect boogers in a pill bottle or wipe earwax in a big streak on the bathroom wall. No. She is the Dana Scully of engineers....gorgeous, bitchy, mean to parasitic aliens, and MUCH smarter than your daughter.
How cool of an engineer, you ask in a high, piping little whimper?

They used to PAY HER TO SET SHIT ON FIRE.

Now all right. Just stop. Drop what you're doing, now, and stop. Fall down on your knees and thank whatever God you own that you have LIVED TO WITNESS THE EXTRAORDINARY COOLNESS OF MY DAUGHTER.

Do they pay your sad, tepid little daughter to set shit on fire?
They do not. They pay her to sew buttholes on Care Bears.

My daughter knows how to THINK.
FURTHERMORE, my daughter knows pretty much everything about contemporary world politics. More, in fact, than Condoleeza Rice; plus she has a better jawline and would not be caught dead in no stinkin' Dior knockoff pink boucle' jacket. My daughter could kick her ass. In fact my daughter SHOULD kick her ass. My daughter, basically, could straighten the fuck out of this country, square away the national budget AND hand-sew a Log Cabin quilt at the same time.
...the Holy Infant of Prague agrees: "That SSA is A-OK!
incidentally this thing
really is full of Chambourd."


In fact-and this has become a problem in recent months-Martha Stewart calls my daughter up and begs her for crafting advice.
Sometimes, Martha cries. It is tragic.

This is because my daughter has great taste. AWESOME taste. The editors of Dwell magazine duck down and hide when my daughter drives past because they know that her taste is so well respected that she could huck like half a melted vanilla ice cream cone at them or like a part of a burger with mustard hanging out and maybe a pickle? And drive away and the cops wouldn't do anything to her.
If I need a second opinion? I go to her. I say "What is this ol bullshit type of situation going on ?" and she give it to me STRAIGHT UP.

...my daughter is cooler than THIS DOG. and this dog, my friends, has an AFRO.

This is an informed woman. You want to know some stuff? Forget it. She knows it already.
Give up. Go home. Go ask your daughter 'Why can't you be more like the SSA? I am so ashamed to know you. No I will not make you a peanut butter sandwich."

You see, my daughter is not merely a gorgeous, international super-smart person, she can also COOK some food. Hell yes. She can just go in the kitchen and as soon as that stove goes on, pilots abandon DEA helicopters to parachute down and eat dinner at her house. Astronauts abandon their missions and drop out the sky for a sanwidge. All the time this happens.

Meanwhile your cut rate ol' daughter is looking at the jar of peanut butter and the table knife and back at the peanut butter and her lower lip is beginning to tremble.

Too many moving parts.


2. My son is SO MUCH COOLER than your so-called sons which are make the laughing so much my face!! HA I say toward your sons!

The dude apprenticed at Full Sail.
Please try and understand. The man is a brewmaster. He knows about HOPS. He makes beer. In fact he just whups up a batch of beer WHENEVER HE FEELS LIKE IT. Just for something to do. Good beer. Rockin' ass beer.
...this is what YOUR son drinks. they put an umbrella in it for him.

Your son cannot make beer. Your son cannot make Koolaid. He doesn't even know the words to the Koolaid song.*

My son has a degree.
My son has a degree in AGRICULTURE.
HE GARDENS FOR A LIVING.
That's right friends and neighbors. He actually scammed a paying job with benefits GROWING PLANTS.
Oh my God! How can you stand the humiliation of living on the same planet as this man, knowing that your progeny are so inferior? Here is how it is. And this will be difficult but pull on your big kid uns and deal with it, because it's like this:

He could have been paid to make beer, or paid to garden.

Please. The coolness is blinding me here. Frost is forming. This is like minus 40-below coolness here.
God it must suck to be you.

Does your son grow stuff? Pfft. Moss under his balls, maybe.
...this is what YOUR son wore last Halloween. he told people he was a radio telescope.


Yes, I'm afraid YOUR SON is a dork.
Feel my pity. *snoooork* Waves and waves of extreme pity rolling your way like the vast moon-driven breakers on a tempestuous berg-strewn arctic sea full of narwhals with big pointy things sticking up out of their heads going 'Woooooo' like they do.
Thats right.

As if this were not extreme liquid nitrogenlike coolness enow, my son was a RODEO RIDER. Mercy yes. Testify: He subdued WILD IRRITABLE ANIMALS in a WESTERN SETTING is what I am trying to convey to you here, motherfucker.
Oh yes.
Yes.
Cows FEAR MY SON.

Cows taunt your son.

Your
son carries a big paper bag in his car so that whenever he has to go by some cows he can put it over his head so that he does not have to endure their cruel mockery. You ever wondered about that big paper sack he carries in his Gremlin? Now you know.

...this is the wallpaper on your sons computer. do you know why? because cows hacked your sons computer. and now he can't get it to go away.


You really have to ask yourself why you even bothered to procreate. Lotta wasted effort, wasn't it. And now you have nothing to show for it but some stained sheets, crushing debt and a broken heart.

My DNA has prevailed.
FUCK YES!
Look on my kids, ye mighty, and despair.






__________________________________
* " Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah-"
...thats it. those are the lyrics. thats how the Koolaid song goes.
you see how incredibly sad and lame your son is? return him and get your money back; and if the fly problem in your home ramps back up use it to buy a frog. don't even bother to give it a name.

30 comments:

  1. you forgot the part about bro's cooking! His is at least On par with or Heaps better than mine!
    Also his mad parenting skillz, his adorable goofy dorkiness, and his freaky ability to tell stories EXACTLY how his Ma does - with the weird eyebrow wiggles and over-the-glasses stare!
    Also you forgot the part where animals love me and kill other, smaller animals in order to worship my greatness. But really, all animals love me. Especially dorgs.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh yeah. You're right! But see, my fingers were getting frostbit from all the coolness and I had to cut it short. but yeah, your brother do definitely be rock the chow. I did his marinara the other day and it kicked my ass.

    ReplyDelete
  3. not someone who fucking comments here ever2:40 PM

    um, i make quite a lot of money growing plants... wait, did i just say that out loud...

    *runs off hoping no one was listening*

    ReplyDelete
  4. Was that the boy who just commented?

    ReplyDelete
  5. FN: That's just sweet. Mine are better, but you're excused. That's just fucking adorable, and that's what being a parent is supposed to feel like all the time. People who don't get that, well, ugh.

    Have you ever gotten a running hug followed by a skating hug? Also a running kiss and a skating kiss? And now the book hug (don't ask). Okay, my kids are MUCH younger, and I'll stop now so we don't go to warfare. We already divided up the country I think, so there is room enough for all four of our fantastic offspring. And I'll cede New Jersey to someone else who needs it for their kids.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Well...how rude!

    ReplyDelete
  7. If i had children, i would probably be offended.

    But i don't.

    So i'm just jealous that your daughter got to set things on fire and get paid for it. There, YOU HAPPY NOW?

    ReplyDelete
  8. Yikes. I think it's really nice that you can be proud of your kids because I don't think that seems to happen much. Going by my own experience I've always presumed that people only have kids so they can have someone to shout at so they feel better about themselves. Good job I never got the urge to procreate - wouldn't want to have perpetuated the same misery as my parents! Heh heh.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Well, I like my kids. And my husband is an engineer who makes beer, so there's hope for them. If they fail, it will evidently be because of my inferior genes. Thanks for the reminder.

    ReplyDelete
  10. yeah who was that anon poster?!?!

    *runs off looking for anon poster*

    ReplyDelete
  11. Yes, yes, but no way is your daughter fit to kiss the dead white feat of Great Aunt leota who was and remains the acme of cool.

    As for your son, my cousin is paid to taste beer. That's right, TASTE ambrosia and draw a salary at the same time. How uber cool is that? Beats mashing up hops and malt in a big pot any day.

    Begone with your boastfulness.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Chaucer's Bitch's Mom2:37 PM

    "my kids are SO MUCH COOLER than your kids."

    I beg to differ.

    ReplyDelete
  13. I expect you are right *yawns loudly*

    ReplyDelete
  14. And I did mean to brag about ol' Gooneybird, who is a sunny son, full of odd ramblings and tales that'd make ol' Hunter S. and L. Carroll scratch their noggins in confusion. And he is more charming and social than Johnny Carson and Jimmy Stewart combined. Oh yes. And also he makes his own breakfasts and lunches and snacks (burritos, cereal, fruit, pb&h, crackers, cheese) and he is only 4.
    Also I am pretty sure he knows maths.

    ReplyDelete
  15. and that Inner...I mean...ANONYMOUS poster...they should invite us all over for some...tea. And I hear they can cook. I mean, not that they're anyone we know. You just hear things is all.

    ReplyDelete
  16. MA BEASTY12:44 AM

    my kids are SO MUCH COOLER than your kids.
    YOUR SO RIGHT!
    MINE ARE ALL IDIOTS
    DISSAPIONTMENT IS MY MIDDLE NAME

    ReplyDelete
  17. Not saying anything about uberkool kids. Just want to say the board in front of a liquor store, quite obviously somewhere in north India, is in Hindi. It says "Shop for English liquor", which, in the broader sense, means "foreign liquor". This is what Western-style spirits and beer are called in most parts of India, as distinct from the local hooch that can set your innards on fire. The "Child Beer" shows not many care for English spelling in the town or that they know very well what some white men prowling around the place are looking for.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Wow.
    I confess I occasionally get paid to set shit on fire, but other than that - a brewmaster and an engineer? Knew there was a reason I haven't had kids...I'll have to settle with lighting things on fire and brewing my own beer methinks...Good job woman.

    ReplyDelete
  19. This proud rant of Mom hood requires that I invite you and your two KOOL KIDS to my house for a very nasty game of 5 card Pinocle. I believe they may possess the maturity and endurance to prevail against moi.

    ReplyDelete
  20. Wow, your kids are perfect.

    You must be a huge embarassment to them.

    ReplyDelete
  21. hey everyone!!! I am writing you all a lame gang reply FROM OREGON!!!!
    ON A LAPTOP COMPUTER!!!!!

    I FEEL SO TECHNICAL!!!!

    the son is awesome, as are the rest of the gang, although the Biker bareley missed ending up in a shallow grave for BEING A GUY and insisting on driving, and navigating, and having NOGODDAMNCLUE where he was going, and....you get the picture.
    anyway. i'll be here for awhile, and...its all oregony. whatever.
    huh.
    well, um, yeah.
    ok.


    yeah.

    ReplyDelete
  22. I forgot what I was going to say.

    ReplyDelete
  23. I am so laughing outloud at frobishers comment. And we in the dog bidness call your observations as being 'kennel blind'. hee hee hee

    ReplyDelete
  24. What? No bare-chested picture of the World Champ? If you really want to portray greatness, it is a necessity.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Talking of terrible embarrasments- Hello Ma B

    Ha Ha Ha Frobi_ its almost child abuse.

    Oh Hello Piggy an Tazzy

    who was that masked World Champ.... may the beard be with you

    ReplyDelete
  26. genes will out - and don't worry there's plenty of time for them to take after their mother yet.

    :)

    ReplyDelete
  27. But, I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

    ReplyDelete