Finally there’s a way I can also not care about what your baby is doing.
Let’s see if I can describe this new invention without killing myself. Twoddler may look like your average Playskool activity center but this little piece of shit is hooked up to Twitter so every time little Susie moves the plastic piece with your face on it a tweet is sent to you saying something like “Hey asshole, look what I can do… randomly touch things.”
Am I the last sane person on this planet? If this takes off I’m moving to a cabin in the woods. I don’t want to live in a world where babies keep me up to date every minute of the day. “I C poopies on da floor. LOL.” Come to think of it, how can you tell if a tweet is from a baby or an adult with the ridiculous way people write these days? I’m guessing a baby could tweet something just as intelligent as, say, Miley Cyrus.
Let’s see if you can guess which of these tweets (I fucking hate that term) are from babies and which are from adults…
“jus ate sum soup”
“spendt da day on da couch in PJs – LMAO”
“life is a jurney, U just half 2 take the furst step”
“yo, yall need to see ma new crib”
See? What’s the difference? It’s all inane, utterly useless bullshit nobody needs to know.
When did this red piece of shit take over Sesame Street? He strolls around the neighborhood like he’s John Gotti, forcing all other puppets to live under constant fear of being whacked.
Apparently this dick has been around since the early 70s, which is strange because I grew up on Sesame Street in the early/mid 70s and I can’t recall ever seeing his lame ass on my parent’s giant TV with sliding doors so you could make it look like “furniture” when not in use. Yeah nice piece of furniture, a giant wood box in the middle of the room. What, were people supposed to come over and gush over what a lovely wood box you had? Come on people, get your head in the game! But I digress.
The point is, I watched a hell of a lot of Sesame Street in the 70s, partially because back then we had about 5 channels to choose from, but mostly because it kicked ass. Cookie Monster was still existing exclusively on a cookie diet, not this “sometime me eat vegetables” nonsense, Mr. Hooper’s Store was the hottest place on Sesame Street to spot celebrities and motherfucking Snuffleupagus was still only seen by Big Bird God damn it! You know who I don’t remember being awesome, or even around? Elmo! I’m guessing he’s Grover’s gay cousin or something but to be honest, I don’t care to know his background.
Somehow through a series of back-alley deals and intimidation Elmo has risen through the ranks to control the Sesame Street territory. I know I should probably fear for my life for speaking so openly but enough is enough, FUCK ELMO, it’s time to take him out!
(world’s largest sigh followed by eye rolling so intense it causes vomiting)
Video games are fun, I get it. I practically got an erection on Christmas morning, 1983, when I saw a present under the tree that was the exact size of an Atari 2600. I hadn’t even unwrapped the thing yet and I was already pissing my Yoda jammies from excitement. But I’m sorry, it just seems wrong for the Cub Scouts to award kids for playing video games.
Maybe “wrong” is not the best way to describe it, “lame” is probably more appropriate. Cub Scouts should be all about tying knots, burning stuff in campfires and watching your dad build you a kickass Pinewood Derby car, because let’s face it, he’s more excited about building that car than you are. Say, that reminds me, did you know you can now buy pre-built Pinewood Derby cars that require no effort other than slapping a few stickers on it? Fuck that! Pinewood Derby was all about seeing whose dad was awesome and whose dad was no better than a little girl. Want to know which dads have a sweet set of tools and which dads secretly give handjobs in forest preserves… you need look no further than Pinewood Derby day. Pinewood Derby was a thinly veiled pissing match for the dads and it should stay that way.
Where was I? Oh yeah, video games. Um… I’m bored with that subject, I should have made this post about Pinewood Derby. Fuck everything!
I share my toys and I also share signs my parents make me hold.
I’m writing this on my brand new computer! When a friend brought “Kidical Mass” to my attention this morning I was so filled with rage I literally ate my old computer. Yeah, I ATE a 27″ iMac!
I realize I just wrote about bike hipsters a couple days ago and have already taken a shit on “Critical Mass” but this is child abuse and it must be stopped. These poor kids are being turned into bearded hipsters and Bon Iver fans without their knowledge. It reminds me of the children of KKK members. Yeah, that’s right, Kidical Mass is exactly the same as the Ku Klux Klan!
Apparently this nonsense is designed to raise awareness about bike safety or something. Here’s an idea, keep your kids OUT OF THE ROAD! The road is for cars, not toddlers with poopies in their pants, struggling to stay upright on a SpongeBob bike. The last thing I need is some mini-hipster scratching my SUV when I’m trying to watch YouTube on my iPhone while driving.
Here’s the deal… If this is just supposed to be some fun family activity don’t name it after such a jackass event. Call it “Family Fun Bike Time Festival of Fun and Bikes!” Everyone (yes EVERYONE) hates Critical Mass except the hipster douchebags who participate in it, so associating your kid with such a bunch of misguided bullshit is lame. Just stay home and listen to Neutral Milk Hotel* as a family.
I’m taking a day off, but these childhood photos of Guy Fieri (Real name Guy Ramsay Ferry) should get you through the day. You can already see the seeds of douchiness beginning to grow. I just can’t believe he’s not a natural blond!
I want to take a time machine back just so I can fill his hat with that mustard, Bad News Bears style. Original Bad News Bears style, not that piece of shit remake!
Thank God your shitty kids don’t have to suffer through watching the same program while you DRIVE TO FUCKING WAL-MART!
Are you kidding me with this? It’s not good enough to have a DVD player in your minivan, now you have to have a TV that allows each of your horrible brats to watch their own show? No wonder every kid walks around like they are King Awesome. When did the world start revolving around white, suburban toddlers?
You know what my parents would have said to me if I asked for TV in our car? They would have said “What the fuck are you talking about? It’s 1978.” I was lucky that our car had FM radio, not that I was ever allowed to control it.
When I was about 8 years old we drove 1200 miles (each way) to fucking Florida from fucking Illinois in a fucking station wagon. And guess what assholes, there were four adults so the THREE kids had the pleasure of riding in the back ALL THE FUCKING WAY TO FLORIDA AND BACK. You know what that station wagon didn’t have? A fucking seat in the back so we rode on a hard slab of asbestos filled plastic. Oh yeah, you can forget about that little fantasy of air conditioning too. You know what the craziest thing about that trip was? The fact that all four adults and all three kids fondly look back at that vacation as the best vacation ever.
It was a great trip because we shared the same experience and we were connected as a family. Sure, much of the trip involved the car being pulled over to occasionally beat the children but we were beaten as a family and that’s all that matters.
The more “entertainment” you cram down your kid’s throats the more bored they become. Some of my favorite childhood memories involve lying down on the back seat as we drove through the country, watching the night sky float past as the AM radio filled the car with static-y warmth. Perfection.
If you were like me, you’d be more awesome. You would also have no idea who the fuck this creepy little twerp is. That is until now, the moment when I proudly ruin your life.
I can’t stomach children who act like adults and I especially can’t stand kids who act like the kind of adults you would like to hit in the balls with a shovel. More often than not, “performer” kids end up fulfilling this role. While most kids are setting crap on fire and punching each other in a kickass Kung-Fu fashion, these horrifying turds are jazz-handsing their way to a life of Bedazzled vests and cats named “Lady Precious.” I’m not talking about the normal brand of show choir nerd, I’m talking about weirdos like this Anthony Gargiula who try to eye-fuck you while singing “Sexual Healing” at Six Flags. I just want to eat this fried dough in peace, so please stop making love to my ears and go check your Underoos for poopies.
Good luck making it through these clips without digging your eyes out and jamming them into your ears.
Yeah, that creepy poster of a baby dressed as corn is really going to brighten up your beer-soaked, double-wide trailer. IT’S SOOOOO CUTE!
I think I hate Anne Geddes because I’m jealous of her. I mean could there be anything easier than plopping some stupid babies into a giant salad and snapping a few photos? Put a baby in a bunny suit and get ready to start counting your money. BITCH!
The only people worse than Anne Geddes are the tasteless dolts who eat this shit up. I honestly can’t comprehend looking at one of these posters and thinking “Oh yeah, I love that. I love it when babies dress in cactus outfits. I NEED that!” I like children, but this shit makes me want to do a Geddes-style poster of a baby dressed as a golf ball that’s about to get whacked by a giant golf club.
And can we all just PLEASE agree to stop taking black and white photos of tiny babies being held by hairy shirtless men? OK, we get it, life is precious and fragile and babies look small in big hands and look how strong those hands look and we have to protect babies and the circle of life and kumbaya and peace on Earth and that scene in Ghost where Patrick Swayze fucks Demi Moore on a pottery wheel and Sarah Palin, and Jesus and Blue Collar Comedy and Walmart… Lord, take me now!
