My life isn't solely existential crises and binge drinking. Sometimes, I make cobbler.So, yeah, I've been a little more than fucked up lately. What of it? It's a very fucked up and hazy line I stumble along: mindfulness interspersed with wanton alcohol abuse, rage sitting side by side with bliss, and rampant misanthropy coupled with an unending hope for the future of humanity. What can I say? The world is a very fucked up place and while I am not an original person at least I am complicated.
There's a lot of shit on the docket so be prepared. First things first, I suppose.
Today I was at the post office with both children in tow. I'm holding Tiny and Bug has decided to fuck up his shoes so that he has to walk at half the speed he usually does. So I get inside and stoop down and begin to fix Bug's shoes with my free hand. A lady comes over to where I am, bends forward at the waist and asks in a tone reserved solely for the cognitively impaired, "Do you need some help? It looks like you have your hands full."
I think, "What the goddamn holy fuck?" But I manage to say, "No I've got it. Thanks."
Not only is it enraging to be condescended to by some random lady who is giving off the air that just because I am a man, by myself, with two children who is doing the same shit you see women doing all the time, it's baffling that she thinks she can help. What the fuck is this random stranger thinking she is going to do for me? Hold my infant? Velcro my pre-schooler's shoes? Go check my goddamn mail for me? Go pick up my fucking groceries while I am swamped at the post office?
Asshole.
Also, Felicia and I qualify for WIC, so today I go to pick up the checks for all our sweet government provided cereal, milk, and cheese. I have to sign some forms that say if I get WIC checks from any other office I am a fraud and will be prosecuted. The lady at the counter says that I have to sign three forms. It turned out that I had to sign four forms and so the lady says to me, "Oh, you poor man."
Yeah, pity me because I'm not only poor, I'm male. Hey, you know what would make me feel better? Suck my dick behind the Child Care Assistance/ WIC office, bitch.
You know the worst part is it's okay to say/do these insanely offensive things to men with children but if I were to ask some woman with four kids if she needed some help shopping at the fucking Wal-Mart I'd be, at worst, pepper sprayed, or at best, looked at like I had a goddamn dick growing out of my forehead.
Fuck all that noise. The cobbler I made was fucking delicious, and Kraft now has a Mac-n-Cheese that is 50% whole grains so there is like five times the amount of dietary fiber of regular Mac, which is good if you have kids and worry about trivial shit like, you know, their digestive and nutritional health.
There's a lot of shit on the docket so be prepared. First things first, I suppose.
Today I was at the post office with both children in tow. I'm holding Tiny and Bug has decided to fuck up his shoes so that he has to walk at half the speed he usually does. So I get inside and stoop down and begin to fix Bug's shoes with my free hand. A lady comes over to where I am, bends forward at the waist and asks in a tone reserved solely for the cognitively impaired, "Do you need some help? It looks like you have your hands full."
I think, "What the goddamn holy fuck?" But I manage to say, "No I've got it. Thanks."
Not only is it enraging to be condescended to by some random lady who is giving off the air that just because I am a man, by myself, with two children who is doing the same shit you see women doing all the time, it's baffling that she thinks she can help. What the fuck is this random stranger thinking she is going to do for me? Hold my infant? Velcro my pre-schooler's shoes? Go check my goddamn mail for me? Go pick up my fucking groceries while I am swamped at the post office?
Asshole.
Also, Felicia and I qualify for WIC, so today I go to pick up the checks for all our sweet government provided cereal, milk, and cheese. I have to sign some forms that say if I get WIC checks from any other office I am a fraud and will be prosecuted. The lady at the counter says that I have to sign three forms. It turned out that I had to sign four forms and so the lady says to me, "Oh, you poor man."
Yeah, pity me because I'm not only poor, I'm male. Hey, you know what would make me feel better? Suck my dick behind the Child Care Assistance/ WIC office, bitch.
You know the worst part is it's okay to say/do these insanely offensive things to men with children but if I were to ask some woman with four kids if she needed some help shopping at the fucking Wal-Mart I'd be, at worst, pepper sprayed, or at best, looked at like I had a goddamn dick growing out of my forehead.
Fuck all that noise. The cobbler I made was fucking delicious, and Kraft now has a Mac-n-Cheese that is 50% whole grains so there is like five times the amount of dietary fiber of regular Mac, which is good if you have kids and worry about trivial shit like, you know, their digestive and nutritional health.
Hey, Gavin at the Matanuska River, getting ready to chuck some rocks into the water. Whoo!
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