Words of Advice

Mothers don’t coddle your children
And send them off early to bed
With a sure solid thump
On the back of the rump
And for good measure one round the head

Mothers don’t coddle your children
You may not have chanced to observe it
But they’re up to no good’n
A week without puddin’
They’ve prob’ly done some to deserve it

Mothers don’t coddle your children
And teach them a valuable lesson
If they cuss then they’ll cope
With a mouthwash of soap
That never killed none, so I’m guessing

Mothers don’t coddle your children
And call out their rotten behavior
They may cry and look coy
But it’s all just a ploy
So assure them that they’ll thank you later

Mothers don’t coddle your children
You might think they’ll end up just fine
And call me absurd
Or take in stride my words
But if so then don’t send them to mine

SpoiledChineseKids

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Playdate Chicken

The time was exactly 4:56 and 43 seconds on Friday July 22. Mrs. Kleinfeld had one hand on the stem of her glass, the other on the neck of a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. She willed the hands of the clock to move faster. After the week she had, she needed sweet oblivion at any cost.

It was at that time that Little Ignatia skipped into the kitchen. “What are we doing this weekend?” Ignatia asked. Mrs. Kleinfeld looked into her daughter’s big blue eyes and somehow knew she was not going to take “Sleeping as late as possible and recovering from a hangover” as an answer. “We’ll see baby,” she said. Ignatia seemed to accept this answer as she skipped away.

This exchange caused Mrs. Kleinfeld to seriously consider her original plan and it was then that she came up with a great idea. If she could arrange a playdate for Ignatia perhaps she could sleep on the couch while Ignatia and her friend played. She texted Mrs. Cornheiser.

Hi Mrs. Cornheser! Is Annabelle available tomorrow? I was thinking that maybe we could get the girls together for a playdate.

That sounds terrific! Do you think that they would like to go to the zoo? I have year round passes.

Yes, I’m sure Ignatia would love that!

Mrs. Kleinfeld could not believe it. She had hit the golden ticket of playdates! Mrs. Cornheiser was going to take Ignatia to the zoo while leaving Mrs. Kleinfeld to throw up into the toilet to her heart’s content. Then the next text came.

Why don’t you come meet us at 10AM by the front gate?

Mrs. Kleinfeld’s heart sunk. Was she expected to accompany them to the zoo? She could think of no more hideous of a way to spend her Saturday afternoon. But what could she do? She couldn’t very well say that she would only accept the invitation for Ignatia on the condition that she be able to stay home and nurse her sure to be aching head. She had to think fast.

Sure, but you know, with the lines and all…maybe we should meet at 9.

Oh yes, didn’t even think of the lines, maybe 8 is even better!

Was this woman crazy? Was she actually thinking of getting there at 8AM? Maybe, maybe not, but that was a chance Mrs. Kleinfeld wasn’t willing to take. She decided to switch tactics.

Sounds good. Maybe we should also invite Little Bertie Kaminsky!

Ha! Take that Mrs. Cornheiser! Nobody liked that little glue eater.

Oh, that would be great! Maybe we should also invite the Rodriguez triplets?

How about we just invite their entire 3rd grade class?

Sure, and how about their teacher Mrs. Lipshitz as well?

Great!I love Mrs. Lipshitz.

Mrs. Kleinfeld could hardly believe what she had just written. She didn’t even think Mrs. Lipshitz’s mother loved Mrs. Lipshitz. But she was seriously getting in over her head now. She was 2 zip in the bottom of the ninth, whatever that meant, and she needed another tactic. Back to her phone she went.

I think we should pack a picnic too!

Okay, I’ll bring along some sushi in my cold and hot super duper cooler heater thingamabob!

Oh no, I’ll just whip up some filet mignon and serve it in mini sandwiches with the crusts cut off!

Okay, see you then.

Now Mrs. Kleinfeld really needed a glass of wine. She gulped the first one down and then poured herself another. She went to sit and think about how she was going to get herself out of this one. She could not show up…but then she considered all the times she would have to hide in the bushes to avoid awkward conversations in the schoolyard. Would it be worth it? Perhaps…

It was then that Ignatia skipped back into the room. The sight of her carrying on her own dialogue between two of her Barbie dolls caused Mrs. Kleinfeld’s heart to sink. She knew it was time to put on her big girl boots. She took to her phone once again.

Hi Mrs. Cornheiser! It’s me again. Something’s come up for tomorrow morning. Do you think you can just bring Annabelle by at 1:00 tomorrow afternoon?

Better make it 2.

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The Misanthrope’s Lament

I think from those I better run
Who call me sweetie, dear or hun
And some more who take the cake
Liars, hypocrites and flakes
Bratty kids on my playdates
The vain and the forever late
I also would strongly oppose
Those who pick their teeth and nose
Those who think they’ve all the answers
Show apparent lack of manners
The slow to answer texts and calls
And those who get back not at all
Those who aren’t very bright
And swing too far to left or right
And then I find it quite repelling
Those who lack grammar and spelling
The mean, the picky, the conformists
I’d go on the list’s enormous
Yet I stand lone and bereft
Only to find there’s no one left

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Motivational Speaking For the Unmotivated

Megan sat there watching the expression in Wanda’s eyes run the gamut from awe to disappointment to disgust. But even worse than that was the cold steely eye of the iPhone in Wanda’s hands, taking it all in with no way for Megan to stop it. It was then that Megan started to regret snorting that line of coke off the Korean executive’s cock at 3 o clock that morning. But, if she really thought about it, this was just an inevitable end to something that had been put into motion way before she even took her first shot of tequila last night.

The truth was, Megan really didn’t ever want to do anything. She was perfectly content sitting at home in her sweat pants lazing around in her unmade bed, eating Twinkies, browsing social media and waiting for unemployment checks to roll in…which is exactly what she would have been doing had it not been for the slight inconvenience of the fact that there were no unemployment checks coming in and hadn’t been for the past three months. That is what brought on the depression which was slightly alleviated by the appearance of little numbers in the notifications box in whatever social media platform she happened to be on.

It was around this time that J. Lo came to Megan in a dream (although it may have been a video on Facebook, no one is really quite sure). J.Lo went on to tell her how even someone as talentless as herself, could make it in the world if she just believed. Megan thought about the dream a long time before coming to the conclusion that the blonde hair J. Lo was sporting really didn’t suit her at all. But later on in the day, J Lo’s words started to resonate with her and so she started posting inane messages on social media platforms like “your mind is your best friend and your worst enemy”, “you are so much more than what you see in the mirror” and “sexy is a state of mind”. Pretty soon, Megan found that she had much more than numbers in her notifications box. She had thousands and thousands of followers.

The time had come. She needed to take action. She didn’t even have to pick up the phone to book the first Megan Landry Motivational Speaking for The Unmotivated Conference. The wheels were in motion.

At Megan’s first conference, she didn’t bother to prepare a speech. She scoured her brain for clever internet memes. She quoted a couple of Bon Jovi songs. The conference ended with everyone in attendance joining her on stage for a rousing rendition of ‘I Will Survive’. She was a huge success.

The money started rolling in. So much so, in fact, that her accountant started advising her to give some away to charity. Which is why, when Megan got a phone call from The Plight Of The Injured Iguanas Foundation, asking if she would donate an in home consultation to the highest bidder, (tax deductible mind you) she readily agreed.

The receptionist at The Injured Iguana did a great job of reminding Megan about her upcoming appointment with Wanda who had bid a whopping $1000 to meet Megan at her apartment at 9:00 on Friday morning for the consult. Unfortunately, it was Megan who dropped the ball. Every time she was about to enter the date down in her computer calendar, she was immediately sidetracked by the window that came up which automatically defaulted to Kim Kardashian’s Twitter page.

When Megan’s alarm started going off at 9 AM on Friday, she wished for death as she hit it repeatedly. When it didn’t stop it’s incessant buzzing, she realized it was the doorbell. She crawled out of bed in hopes that whoever it was would go the hell away, if only so that she could return to her desired state of unconsciousness. But when she saw Wanda, it all came flooding back to her.

As the two sat in Megan’s kitchen, Megan struggled to decipher Wanda’s words but she just continued to sound more and more to her like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Megan, meanwhile, battled what could have easily have been the worst hangover of all time, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was still a bit drunk. She struggled to think of something prophetic to say but she was rendered stupid from the lasting effects of the alcohol not to mention the sickening feeling in her stomach.

The Youtube video shows her saying something unintelligible. Some think it was “yolo” while others claim it was “oh no”. That is a debate that raged on for many months until it was eclipsed by the great internet controversy of whether the dress was blue or white. No matter in any case, as with the words came up rivers of vomit most of which ended up on Wanda’s new pencil skirt which she had purchased just for the occasion. I hear Megan is now gainfully employed at a McDonald’s in Pasadena.

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The Fennelly’s Diner

Some couples take vacations. Some have children. My parents opened up a restaurant. Well, I don’t know if that was what they thought would be THEEE THING to save their failing marriage but, in any case, here were these two people who seemingly hated each other, working together every day and going home every night, and now they had something else to fight about.

And fight they did…much to the delight of the many patrons who would line up around the block for our meh manicotti and processed penne. But it wasn’t the food they were coming for, it was the entertainment. And they got their money’s worth. Every night.

I can’t tell you how many times I’d come out of the kitchen, my parents’ hurled obscenities echoing through the dining room. I’d see the dirty looks diners gave each other if clanging silverware disturbed the hush, lest they miss a muffled word and go home without getting the juicy details of the altercation du jour. Other patrons tried to look nonchalant as they crept away from the wall, discreetly putting down the water glass they were holding up to their ear. Then, my parents would emerge, as if on cue, my mother’s tear stained face, my father with mashed potatoes in his hair.

Of course there was no respite to be had at school. Few made any effort to conceal the ever present vicious gossip. My parents’ diner was soon dubbed THEE place to go if you were going to break up with someone. It was said that seeing what a relationship could become made the dumpee feel relieved. One of our dishes was even lovingly nicknamed the It’s Not You It’s Me-atloaf.

Other kids said that my parents’ fighting made their moms and dads feel better about their own imperfect relationships. Chicken blessed. Still others said that the fighting sparked lively debates in their homes about who was right and who was wrong. Devil’s Food Advo-cake.

Well, finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I went home and I told my mother and father how much their fighting was bothering me; how it was ruining my life; how I just couldn’t take it any more. The next day they went out and found a marriage counselor.

Mrs. Stuart taught my parents how to get along better. She taught them yoga poses that would help open up the channels of communication between them. She taught them how to express their feelings in a loving, tactful manner.

My parent’s marriage improved over the next few months but it wasn’t strong enough to survive the closing of the restaurant. Six weeks after the doors locked for the last time, the divorce was finalized. I don’t think they ever completely forgave me either.

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Mommy And Daddy Worship Satan-Official Music Video

Folks! You’ve read the poem,you’ve seen the band, you’ve heard the music…now here it is, the official music video! (Lyrics below for those who haven’t already read them a thousand times).

I hoped they wouldn’t notice but
My friends suspicion’s roused
They ask me why I never let them
Come play at my house
It looks as if I may have to
Invite them to my home
And pray dad doesn’t greet then when
He’s wearing his black robe

The coast is clear they wonder what
The worry on my face meant
When suddenly a chanting starts
To rise up from the basement
Why can’t I be a normal kid
It’s so much less complex
To say I think it’s just my mom
And father having sex

My mother says “I guess I just
Don’t get your generation”
And that’s what life is like when mom
And daddy worship Satan.

And before I know it they
Are running to explore
And follow the odd noises that
Are coming from the floor
And soon they find my parents
In their favorite recreation
Conjuring up spirits in
An evil incantation

And daddy says “Oh visitors
Well isn’t that just nice?”
I hope he doesn’t think them virgins
To be sacrificed
But mom ignores my gestures and
She sports an evil grin her
Mouth waters as she says “We’re happy
To have you for dinner!”

I fear they will accept her offer
And agree to stay
Do they not know she means to have them
As the main entree?
I’m just about to tell them run
But briefly I think twice
A break from eye of newt and toe
Of frog would sure be nice

My mother says “I guess I just
Don’t get your generation”
And that’s what life is like when mom
And daddy worship Satan.