I’m Getting Old

Clearly, it’s been awhile.

I don’t have much to say in my defense, beyond the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with MFH (My Future Husband), I’m currently in the process of moving in with him, I just started back at Nailor, and I managed to spend last weekend in the hospital.

Weirdly enough, I don’t want to talk about any of this. You see, during my hiatus, the thing that’s been weighing the heaviest upon my blogind (aka blogger mind) is kids these days.

I know, I know…I’m turning into one of those cranky-pants elderly people who shout at the youngens to get the heck off their perfect lawn. But seriously, I have a few bones to pick. And—I’m sorry to say—I’m not getting off of my soapbox until I get this out. The good news is, once I’m done with this long-awaited post, I can move on to other, funnier topics.

First and foremost, can I please impart some manners upon the youth of today? Wonderful. On we go…

When you are out in public, in a place were people of all ages and races gather to purchase or obtain knowledge, for the sake of all that is holy, do not sit on/make out with/give a lap dance to your bf/gf/fwb. Not only is this rather gross and disrespectful, it makes you look like losers. Honestly, you couldn’t find a better place to get felt up then the sports section of your local bookstore?! Don’t you have a bedroom? Does your home not have a basement or rec-room or something with a wall, door, and lock that will keep me from having to watch your awkward attempts at playing house? Hell, go sit at (the back of) the theatre and enjoy the darkness. Find a park—Hey, better yet, park a car! Whatever, just don’t be icky in public. No matter how horney you think you are, you can wait for a better time and place. Trust me on this one.

Now, in the above I mentioned using a movie theatre for a purpose contrary to its operating standards. Realize that I’m not a fan of this practice; however, I infinitely prefer this to Starbucks chair dances. (I do ask that you sit in the very back row. This is completely reasonable, after all I shouldn’t have to shift around your tongues to see the scene I spent eleven bucks to see. Savvy? Great, lets move on.) What I cannot give any leeway to, are you who use movie theatres for meeting centers away from the prying eyes of your parents. This isn’t just me being grumpy…it’s for your own perfection. If I can hear you talking about hooking up with some other chick’s boyfriend, who’s to say someone who knows said chick isn’t there to hear you as well? Also, as cool as your new phone/gaming device is, during the movie is not the time to play with/use it. Texting is so great, right? You can talk and you’re not being loud at all! Except let me tell you how effing distracting it is for me when the bright LCD lights up your screen enough to see everyone within a four seat radius from you. Keep it in your pants, kids. Turn them off, or leave the theatre if you want to chat/play.

More on the lets act more like adults and less like little children wanting to be adults…there is absolutely no reason for you to put gum on any surface whatsoever inside a building. I say this after pulling wads off of the inside of a shelf, the carpet, the side of the fireplace, and on our stepstool. We have multiple trash receptacles, people…USE them! This includes you who chose to leave your coffee/frap cups and food containers all over the store. GROW UP! I am not your mother, there is zero reason for me to pick up after you.

And speaking of mothers…Look, I don’t have kids. I guess you could say that I have no right telling anyone how to parent. I would counter that sentiment; however, by stating that I was once a child, I am a American Red Cross certified babysitter, and I have a little brother who was a professional instigator as a tot. I know that letting children climb on a rickety table housing a train set is not okay. I know that ripping dress-up clothing for purchase off hangers/bindings/tags and pulling them on is not okay. I know that throwing stuffed animals around until they are stuck on duct work is not okay. Fist fighting, toy train slinging, and incessant screaming are all not okay. I know this, you know this, we all know this. So please explain to me why—whenever I look at the parents of said children—the parents look at me like I should be the one handling it. Just so we’re clear, I made around twenty bucks an hour when I babysat, and Chapters sure as f**k ain’t paying me that. Even if they did, they certainly aren’t paying me to look after your child. In the words of the Immortal Stewie:“For god's sake get off your ass and do some parenting!”

Okay, I feel better now. Very cleansing, the vent. I recommend you all try it at some point.

Hopefully there will be more fun stuff soon.


Quote of the Moment:
MFH’s Aunt: Look, there is a find line between men luffa-ing and anal sex.
Ms.I: Oh... yep, that's the quote of the week.
MFH’s Cousin: MOM! Why is it always anal sex with you?!
Soundtrack of the Moment: Maianas Trench, “Cross My Heart”
TV/Movie Quote: Up:
Carl Fredricksen: Do you want to play a game? It's called See Who Can Go the Longest Without Saying Anything.
Russell: Cool! My mom loves that game!