Remember that scene in Reservoir Dogs when the guy gets his ear cut off and then doused in gasoline? At the time I sat there on the edge of my seat thinking, holy shit, it doesn’t get worse than that. But now I’m like that’s an F'ing walk in the park compared to what my ears go through on a daily basis. Quentin Tarantino, you da bomb and I don't mean no disrespect, but you don’t know jack about ear torture until you have kids and experience some of the shit they put your ears through on a daily basis.
(He's so damn cool. If I made this face for a picture I'd look constipated.)
So here goes, the top 10 worst things the average parent hears on a daily basis.
- Unnnnggh, unnnnnnnngh, unnngh. Do you know what that’s the sound of? That’s my toddler grunting away as he hides behind a chair in the middle of the department store. Real discreet. As if I can’t decipher what you’re doing back there. Guess what, kid, all of Macy’s can tell what you’re F’ing doing. Even before they call in the Hazmat team to confiscate what is sure to be the biggest blowout diaper in all of history.
- Or what about this one. You’re standing in the laundry room or the kitchen or just staring at your cell phone ignoring your kids for a minute or twenty when suddenly you hear your little a-hole (oh shit, here come the comments) dumping a bin of toys out onto the floor. But not just any old bin, the one with like 9 million Legos (Lego’s? Legoes? Legae?). It keeps pouring and pouring and pouring, like one of those totally awesome endless chocolate fountains, only not quite as awesome and less likely to give you herpes.
- “Fuck! Shit! I mean crap, I didn’t mean to say that!” You stub the hell out of your toe and three curse words just slip out right in front of your kiddo. And the next day you’re standing in Grandma’s house and your kid’s all like, “Fuck that shit G-ma, fuck if I’m washing my hands after taking a shit in your crapper.” FYI, she didn’t learn the word crapper from me. She learned it from her daddy, so I ain’t taking the blame for that one.
- You know the sound. You’re walking around the kitchen putting stuff away when crunch. The sound of a Cheerio under your shoe. Are you kidding me? I have to lug out the whole F'ing dustbuster to suck up one measly tiny ass Cheerio. It’s either vacuum it up or lick my finger a little and then press it on the crumbs so they stick to it and I can throw them in the trash. Not that I ever do that. (this is my life in a nutshell, or rather a dustbuster)
- Okay, so we used to have this Melissa and Doug puzzle (until it mysteriously went missing on a Tuesday or a Friday, coincidentally our trash days). This particular puzzle was light sensitive and made animal noises when you put the pieces in. Well, probably two days into owning this piece of shit, I mean this amazingly nice puzzle someone gifted us, we lost the guinea pig piece. So every damn night when I turned the lights out, that freaky guinea pig would squeak or grunt or whatever the fuck noise a guinea pig makes. I don’t give a crap if you’re Mr. F'ing T, hearing that scary ass guinea pig in the dark would make anyone have a heart attack and shit a brick. Yes, simultaneously (And yes, I had to type that word like 4 times to get it right).
- Hey, look how cute my baby is trying to use my hairbrush. Awwww, he’s brushing his hair with the wrong side of the brush. Sooo cute. Then PLOP! Are you kidding me? Did you seriously just drop my brush in the toilet? Is there anything in my house that hasn’t touched poop?
- And here’s another one. About two years ago my husband and I were both falling asleep when we awoke to this creepy voice downstairs in the house. Holy fucking shit, this is it. I cowered in bed my eyes glued to the baby monitor scared shitless an intruder was there to take our baby (it never occurred to me why in God’s name someone would want to take our crying poop machine), while hubby grabbed a heavy flashlight he could use to bash in an intruder’s brains and if not that then to entertain him with shadow puppets. And then we heard the creepy voice again. “Thanks for learning with Leap Frog! Buh-bye!” You know what, goddamn alphabet caterpillar? Here are two letters I’m sure you know. F-U. I’ll be kicking your ass tomorrow. Right now I gotta go change my underwear. (F-U-F-U-F-U-F-U, I feel better now)
- The Caillou theme song. ‘Nuff said.
- Advice from random stupid nosy asshole strangers everywhere you go. Like that blue-haired grandma who makes a “suggestion” when my kid has decided to lie down in the middle of the cereal aisle and turn into the kid from The Exorcist because I won’t buy her Cocoa Munch or Strawberry Snatch or whatever crap it is that she wants me to buy. You know what lady? Maybe you walked away from your kids when they threw tantrums back in your day, but you didn’t have to worry about some pedophile snatching them up. The only thing you had to worry about was a dinosaur eating your kid. Did I seriously use the word snatch twice in this entry? Favorite one yet!
- Silence. True, silence is my favorite sound in the entire world when the kiddos are sleeping. But when they’re in the next room and all you hear is silence, you can bet your ass they’re up to something BAD. Like they’re standing on the kitchen counter playing with the knives. Or seeing how much toilet paper they can unroll before you come in. Or drawing I Hate Mom tattoos on their foreheads with Sharpie markers. Silence is not golden. Silence is like the opposite of golden. What is that? Diarrhea brown. Yes, silence is diarrhea brown.
You just have love a post that ends in the words diarrhea brown. Or not. Which is the perfect segue to the comments section.
P.S. If you thought this was even a teensy bit funny, please join Baby Sideburns on facebook where I write all sorts of funnyish crap all day.