- You ring my doorbell-because only people who want to die a horrible, violent death ring the doorbell of a pregnant woman with a toddler. You see, you doorbell ringing jackasses, sometimes babies SLEEP! When you come and ring my muthafucking doorbell, not only does that “DING DONG” reverberate throughout my home but it also causes my fucking dogs to go batshit crazy and whether it was the “DING, DONG” or the yapping dogs that wake up my toddler, your decision to push that doorbell is the root cause of why the closest thing I get to quiet time has been interrupted and why I am staring down the barrel of a really pissy, cranky two-year old that I now have to deal with for HOURS, as he gets pissier and crankier until bed time. Someone must pay.
- You call me before 8AM and everyone is alive and well-because the only reason to EVER call me prior to 8AM is if someone is bleeding or dead. Yes, most mornings I am up prior to 8AM but, on occasion, the baby sleeps past 8AM and I enjoy those days. May God have mercy on your soul if you happen to call me on one of the days that my little, chubby alarm clock has decided to let me sleep late.
- You tell my kids you are going to do something and you don’t-because I realize flaking out on a little kid may not seem like a big deal to you but, for me, it is the seventh level of hell. I am the one that has to listen to them obsess and prepare for the details of the plans you made with him/her/them. I am the one that has to make up some bullshit excuse to cover your ass when they realize that you have sold out so that they don’t think you are a complete lying asshole, even though you are. You will be punished.
- You critique/correct my parenting -I really don’t give a fuck if you disapprove of me laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face because I am telling my toddler to say “you fish” and he is complying. You can kiss my ass. Truth be told, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of my parenting and, frankly, if I want to instruct my kid to say “shut the fuck up, bitch.”, that is my prerogative. As it stands, however, my youngest child’s speech development just makes some every day, normal words, like “fish” sound like he is saying “bitch” and that is just good, clean fun. Get the stick out of your ass and wipe that face off your head before I do it for you.
- You talk during a movie-Seriously. Shut the fuck up. I don’t care what your predictions are on any surprise twist, who the murderer is or who is going to die next. If you shut your fucking mouth and let me watch the movie, I will bet you a hundred dollars we will find out.
- You come to my door selling shit-If you rang my doorbell, you already have one foot in the grave. If you are selling shit, you better have made a will before you darken my door step. You are a perfect stranger. I don’t want to talk about how you are selling magazines to be the first person in your family to go to college. I don’t want you to demonstrate your vacuum cleaner. It is none of your business whether or not I have accepted Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. You see and hear these kids running around like wild animals, screaming and yelling? They weren’t taking precedence over the phone call I am currently on or the status update I was in the middle of posting, why do you think I am going to hang up or close my laptop for you? Keep on walking.
This will probably end up being another series, much like the grammar entries. It will give you bitches something to look forward to in the future.