This weekend I discovered the magic of young boys and how they differ from young girls. My wife visited her best friend while in her hometown the last few days, who has twin boys: ages three. The one is quiet, friendly, shares his toys. The other is a demon seed who refuses to even share the ROOF with my daughter and gets the telepathic orders from his home planet that my kid is the most dangerous being in the galaxy and must be DEALT with extreme prejudice. So, while she's playing with the nice twin with an electric ractrack, the evil one walks up directly behind her and shoves her, pick-a-bar-fight style. This spooks my daughter and she shoves him back and calls for help. While his dad and I are alerted by this, the evil twin charges right back at my girl as soon as she turns her back and he Van Damme-crescent-kicks her right in the kidney. This scares and hurts her, but by then his dad is on him, a dad who has a take-no-shit approach to hitting and picks Evil up by the collar and traps him on the stairs until he apologizes. For forty-five minutes this little boy kicked and screamed and summoned pagen vulgarities but WOULD NOT say "sorry." He caved, he apologized, his dad let him go immedietly. Can you say "stubborn"? "Impulsive?" Little boys, FUCK dude. Little boys have the violence gene hard-wired into their DNA at such an early age, man. As soon as they learn to walk, it's all about ninjas and ass-whoopings. And NEVER back down. Sorry is for fags. I think I may be happy with my daughter, but the real challenge lies in when she hits adolescence when HER god teachers her to hate me and smoke PCP.
I mean, as a little kid I remember doing stupid-ass unnecessary "games", such as wearing shorts and lashing each other across the legs with strips of HotWheels track. I still have that track. It's in plain sight of me. Every guy in here probably played a variation of "kill the carrier" aka "smear the queer" where the one rule is somebody carried a ball and everyone else playing tried to flatten him. Your reward for tackling him first: carrying the ball. Looking back at it, the game did not seem to have good intentions. But you had to play. Girls were watching.
This sounds like my daughter. At Christmas at my grandma's E decided she needed to play with the DVD player. My husband told her no. She proceeded to cry and try to sneak back over there to push buttons. Over and over again. When that wasn't getting her anywhere she decided she needed to knock over my niece's Dora dollhouse. She kept trying to knock it over while my husband held it up so she couldn't knock it down. When she thought he was distracted she headed back for the DVD player. She was bawling her little eyes out the entire time. Stubborn little shit. I'd like to blame that trait on my husband but I'm pretty sure that she got it from me. I'm going to be screwed when she's a teenager.
Way to completely cut off the post, just to add. Besides, I'm a church member. I don't go to prison. I go on vacation. You cannot threaten or abuse kids. You can' tthrow them in the street. HOWEVER there is one power parents can always dangle over their kids' heads: the power to embarrass them, because NOTHING is more humilating on the planet to a teenager than a parent MUAH HA HA AH HA AHA HA HA and that, boys and girls, is how you blackmail your child into behaving. See if they'll listen to you after you threaten to drop them off in front of the main entrance of their school while blasting "La Bamba" at full volume. You see, I have this child-psyche shit down like Chinatown.
The thing is Crown you will never know about your daughters smoking PCP, or the boys she is giving hand jobs to under the bleachers or the sneaking out at night to pull train on the football team. Boys will constantly test limits to find out how they stand next to the leader. They will argue with you but they will not go behind your back. Girls are different, they know what they want and will do whatever it takes to get it. For example, if they want to go to a movie with a boy, first she may ask you, if you say no she will ask mom, if mom says no she will lie and say she is going to a friends house then go to the movies. Your friend is having a hard time right now with twin young boys. I know, I went through it. But now my twins are about to turn 16 and I know exactly where I stand with them and I know they are not going behind my back. The arguments and discussions are all out in the open and are often. My friends raising daughters, not so much. Your daughter will hate the mom, not you. You she knows she has wrapped around her little finger, cause you will have no clue.
We used to call it Scrag in New Zealand when I was a kid and killball in Aus but both times there was either the singular version and if you were a pussy you could just boot the ball as high as you could and hope you didn't still get smashed too badly. The team version was much better, basically like Rugby, American Football and UFC all combined into one, next to rules except for your team keep the ball. Was absolutely brutal.
I just tried to explain to audreymonroe, dubya, and ssycko how to light one's nipples on fire for purposes of a burlesque show. We are now searching for videos of someone doing this so that they can see how this works, so if anyone knows where to find a video of a stripper or burlesque dancer lighting her nipples on fire (via matches attached to her nipples, not a topically applied accelerant), please let us know.
I can agree with this. My mom is always the unreasonable one. Every time. This remains true to this day.
There is no trick you can pull on me, no habit I won't recognize nor you can hide, no stash hiding place I haven't thought of or used or seen. If I catch her smoking pot I'll just be pissed she was holding out on me, and show her not to twist the damn joints when you roll them.
This is classic pride before the fall. Be careful crown. She may have a special hell for you. I envision the finding of Jesus Christ and the co-opting of her uterus by an Elmer Fudd bible salesman. Don't tempt fate.
You folks was referring to those who have chosen for whatever reason to procreate. I fully admit I'm screwed up enough to post excessively on an online message board. But even I'm not screwed up enough to think having kids is a good idea. You freaks.
This margarita mix is too god damned sweet. Somebody please remind me why I'm drinking ti again. Also, "I hate the fucking Eagles, man." Name that movie!