Tuesday, March 31

World's most annoying neighbors!

We've got this young couple living next door to our new house. At first they were really welcoming. But lately they've been bitching about the loud music and about how their newborn is trying to sleep. I don't get it. Why can't that little shit do his sleeping when I'm stuck at work all day?

When I get home from the office I just need to relax. That's why I keep a cooler full of iced Cheladas waiting for me on the back porch. So excuse me if I sprawl out on my lawn chair and get drunk while wearing my rattiest see-thru white bikini top, blasting my Kelly Clarkson CD and singing along. That should be okay to do on my own goddamn property!

I've had a couple of heated altercations with these folks, but lately they haven't said a word to me. Still, I hate them. The last time I saw the guy in his yard I convinced my cousin to spray at him with the garden hose in a flamboyant manner. He went inside and called the cops on us. The cop knew my cousin from high school, so he didn't really give a shit either way. He put it down to a lawn watering mishap.

To make matters worse, the neighbors on the other side of us are old, ornery, and practically deaf. They've been whining to anyone who will listen about our overgrown yard, and how every time their grandkids chase a ball onto our lawn they get poison oak all over their legs and rear ends. They've also been telling people that the little man-made pond in our back yard is nothing more than a breeding pool for mosquito eggs.

The last time those fools knocked on my door was to accuse our newly adopted and unfixed cat "Jager" of sneaking into their doggy door at night and spraying their microfiber sofa with musk. I was so angry about this outright lie that I didn't even bother to tell them about how Jager had gotten into a fight with their dog that morning and somehow managed to pluck one of his eyeballs out.

I'm also hearing rumors about this single dad down the block who's mad at me because I stomped out to the bus stop last Friday and told his son to stop talking to my son. I've had enough problems with my Brandon choosing art and reading over sports and girls. The last thing I need is him becoming buddies with a kid who uses a PBS tote as a book bag.

At least I've made friends with one person on my block. That would be Phyllis, who lives two doors down. She's retired, and likes to sit at the edge of her front yard all day on a cracked white plastic chair and chain smoke little cigars. She's funny as shit. She swears and shakes her fist at cars that aren't even speeding, and she always sexually harasses the UPS man.

Thursday, March 26

25 things to do when your favorite website is down!

1.Retry the URL 1000 times
2.Get in touch with your weeping
3.Play slap n' tickle with your significant other
4.Flip your SUV on an ice-covered road
5.Floss your ass with your roommate's favorite hoodie
6.Wax the floors and have a one man stocking foot race
7.Slap a couple flame decals onto your '88 Ford Tempo
8.Break out the old Salad Shooter and relive the magic
9.Eat a dozen sticks of chocolate scented lip balm
10.Actually do your job well for once
11.Make sure that your girlfriend has had all her shots
12.Replace that fart-stained pillow on your desk chair
13.Smack your balls between two planks of wood
14.Send your grandfather an experienced dominatrix
15.Force Dr. Phil to drink your hot stinky pee
16.Leave your fine young wife for a bitchy hag with 17 fat kids
17.Deep fry an entire deer for the juiciest venison possible
18.Deliberately ram someone for not making a right on red
19.Eat just one Lay's potato chip, deny yourself another
20.Invent a bike helmet that doesn't make kids look retarded
21.Force your mailman to the ground and tattoo his buttocks
22.Stock your fridge with nothing but Lunchables & Capri Sun
23.Down a few laxatives and shit yourself during an MRI
24.Bring your dog to the vet for a circumcision
25.Wash your fuckin' sheets for once, they're gross

Thursday, March 19

For the love of Spring!

It's already feeling like Spring here in Virginia, and it's a beautiful thing. The feeling is taking over as sunlight lifts me from my foggy winter gloom. I've been sticking to my car's leather interior more and more, and I have an excuse to hide my permanent facial squint with a pair of sunglasses.

Signs of life abound. The neighborhood squirrels appear rested, and are up to their usual antics. The dog stinks even when he isn't wet. Birds build their filthy nests and attack passersby. Spiders return from hibernation to exact their revenge. And the Easter Bunny will hop into your room to lay some non-dairy chocolate colored eggs.

The Dogwood trees reveal their tender blossoms. Meter maids have an extra bounce in their step as they screw you out of $40. As if by instinct, migrant workers fly by overhead in that classic "V" shape formation. And folks enjoy early sightings of unfit slobs in cut-off jeans, with their adorable 2-foot long arm pit stains.

The smell of renewal and leftover decay is thick in the air. No more tripping over frozen dog poop on the way to the car. Now you can step in nice warm dog poop with your bare feet! And the noisy vibrations of bass-heavy rap blast obnoxiously from every piece-of-shit Richmond vehicle.

This is the time to plan for upcoming Summertime fun. The kids and I will take our usual trip to the Band-aid encrusted shores of Virginia Beach. On the way home I'll drown out their sunburn complaints by turning up the Tom Petty and lighting a fat spliff. At night our cares will melt away as we're lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the bug zapper.


Tuesday, March 17

Blame the teachers!

I'm just a typical parent. I work all day, and I send my children to public school. They call it a free education, but it's not. I'm always being asked to shell out money for lunches, field trips, you name it. It also takes a good amount of effort to get them out the door on time for the bus each morning. So forgive me, but I just can't understand why my kids don't know shit!

Kids these days don't know how to cook, behave in public, clean a wound, take care of their pets, or tie their shoes. They lack motivation and discipline. As soon as they get home they turn on the children's cable TV channels and watch until they get tired enough to go to bed. Just once I'd like to see my kids doing something worthwhile!

Another thing is that my kids aren't very well behaved. Don't schools still teach moral lessons on things like not lying and not hurting animals? If they are then it's not working! My kids lie right to my goddamn face. They throw rocks at chipmunks. And any time I turn my back they either break something or hurt themselves. Why don't they teach them to keep their hands to themselves?

To me, the clearest sign of our failing schools is how my kids sometimes act up. It's obvious to me that they're not getting enough attention from their teachers. They just love to piss me off by climbing all over the furniture and smudging up the walls. Don't they get enough of that all day at school? I wonder!

On top of it all, these teachers still try to pass their jobs off on us parents. They send home sign off sheets for homework and stuff. They guilt us into joining PTA groups, then shut us down when we tell them how to do their jobs. But if you back off and become less involved they'll accuse you of being bad parents. They seem to think we're the only ones to blame for the failures of our children. It just goes to show how out of touch they are.

Friday, March 13

You're too late, fellas!

Phil met my demands, and we've finally been wed in holy matrimony! Most importantly, he bought me one of those big houses I asked for! It's in a small development built within the boundaries of an older neighborhood. I like that because the houses on our block are much nicer than all the dumps around us. Another good thing about living in the Lakeside area is that everyone around here is unattractive, so I won't have to worry about Phil's wandering eyes!

Of course what you really want to hear about is the wedding! It was a lovely, no nonsense affair. We held the wedding and reception in Phil's neighbors backyard. The setting was perfect, other than the neighbor's kid's dirty faces, and the yard strewn with broken toys and shit. Also, Little Caesars did the catering, and it gave everyone constipation and gas. The sky was overcast too, but luckily it didn't rain, because the FunSaver cameras would have been ruined!

Phil was devilishly handsome in his new shirt, still creased with little squares from being fresh out of the pack. My three year old daughter Jailen was the adorable flower girl, dressed in her Halloween Disney princess costume. Muffin, my rottie, was going to be the ring bearer, but he bit my son (again) for trying to tie the little pillow around his collar. We decided instead to let the flower girl handle the ring, and Muffin's job would be to watch little newborn Orenthal James.

My cousin Buck handled the ceremony. That only cost us the small fee to have him ordained over the Internet. Phil's groomsmen were my other two cousins and my son, Brandon. Phil wanted his brother to be best man, but I said no, because I think he thinks he's better than us. My bridesmaids were my best friends, and my teenage daughter was my maid of honor. She wore my old prom dress, which she wouldn't have been able to fit in if she wasn't already so heavy from her pregnancy.

The nuptial vows were short and sweet, but our first married kiss was hot and sloppy. Then everyone hollered and we all got shitfaced. My cousins and my best friends ended up hooking up after dark, and they must have had fun, because they totally clogged Phil's neighbor's hot tub filter. Phil and I snuck out a little early, and spent our honeymoon night screwing like a couple of stray cats in his uncle's RV.