I can't make this shit up, y'all....

For the second time in my entire history of motherhood, I attended a Thanksgiving Feast with my child.  The first time, was with the oldest spawn when she was in 3rd grade.  I was in the lunch line with her when some loud-mouthed jackass kid asks my her, "Hey, is THAT your mom?  She's fat!"  In my mind I reached over there and kicked him in his teeny tiny nutsack.  In reality, I shot him the bird and he turned right around and minded his own business.  After that most joyous day, I realized the older kids got, the assholier they got, too.  So, I figured that would probably be the first and last time I'd go and have lunch with my kid.

Fast-forward 6 years and my youngest spawn is in kindergarten.  At this age, kids are still kinda cute so I figured I'd probably be safe against verbal attacks.  Also, my youngest would proably kick someone's ass if they talked smack about me to her face.  So, when I was invited to have a Thanksgiving lunch with her, I said, "sure, let's try this shit again!"

Everything was fine.  Great, as a matter-of-fact.  I chit-chatted in the lunch line with some parents.  I sashayed my fat ass around like the confident heifer that I am.  It was all cool.

That is, until we sat down at our assigned spot at the lunch table.  Directly across from us was another kid and her mother - a police officer in full fucking uniform.

Here's where shit went downhill fast.

Spawn: What does that badge say on your arm?

Cop Lady:  It says, "police officer."

Spawn:  YOU'RE a policeman?!

Cop Lady: Yep.

Spawn: Do you have a gun?

Cop Lady: Yeah... it's right here, see? (tapping her hip holster)

Spawn: Cool!  My mom doesn't have a gun.

Cop Lady: Really?

Spawn: Nope.  But, my dad does.

Cop Lady: Really?

Spawn:  Yeah.  He's a boy.  He likes to shoot stuff. Especially bad guys and SQUIRRELS!

Cop Lady: He does, huh?  (glancing at me)

Spawn: Yeah.  He hates them because they drop a lot of acorns in our pool. Also, they make a mess by the back door.

Cop Lady: Hmmm. (staring a hole in my head)

Me: Hey, don't look at me... I don't even know the guy.

So, there goes our family's reputation with this group of parents.  By the time my tiny spawn gets to 3rd grade, this story will be exaggerated to astronomical proportions.  I'm sure that by then, Hubber will be a convicted felon who kills cute, tiny, doe-eyed puppies and eats their hearts raw. 

The funny thing is... he's never even actually hit a squirrel with his bb-gun. :)

Sheesh.

There is no limit to the extent of my pimping...

I am one determined heifer when it comes to "working from home", y'all. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I will pimp anyone out for some cold, hard cash.  I even tried pimping myself out, but for some reason, I'm not as good at that.... I guess because I know all my faults and I probably wouldn't even hire me if I were in the business of hiring.  Which I am not.  Well, except for my snazzy logo up there.  I did pay for that.

(Need a graphic artist?  This guy is the shit!)

Anyway... recently, an opportunity presented itself to me.  I was just sitting around, staring at my youngest spawn (who was explaining to me the logic behind her poor conduct reports in school) and wondering what the hell I ever did to deserve such a sassy, smart-assed, loud-mouthed rugrat.  God is one cruel mofo.  As I watched her mouth move and completely tuned her out, my mind was racing with ideas on how I could pawn her off on some unsuspecting soul for a little peace and quiet.... that's when it occured to me.  She's smart.  Real smart.  Too smart, actually. WHAT IF she was destined to be Doogie Houser, Jr.?  At the rate she's going with reading and math and logic, she could be competing with the minds of college students in three years. Tops.  It was at that moment that I realized I needed to get to pimpin' HER ass out.

College is expensive, y'all.  And, although I'm not adverse to child labor, she's only five-years-old and pretty useless.  However, she's a budding artist and her artwork is highly sought after.  And, we've just been GIVING that shit away!  Well, no more of that nonsense.  I've started a gallery and I'm selling her shiz to raise money to ship her ass off to college when she's eight.  Go buy some fantastical art, people... one day she'll be famous and you can say you knew her when...

WHO'S PIMPIN' WHO?!

I Hate Kindergarteners Who Can Read

Specifically, my own kindergartener.  Now that she can kinda-sorta read, I can't lie about shit.  Like when she wants a quarter for a gumball machine.... I used to say, "See that sign right there?  It says, 'out of order'."  Then there's my favorite non-existent sign posted outside of Chuck-e-Cheese that says, "Sorry, we're closed...all the people parked in our lot are at the store next door." I can't pull that shit on her anymore because she can sound words out and use context clues and whatnot on the words she can't quite figure out.  She's too smart for her own damn good.  Or, for my good.  Either way, it's annoying as hell.

What's worse is that the tiny spawn can now half-assedly read my text messages and emails!  So when she's playing "Top Model" or "Monster Farm" (or whatever nonsense is popular that hour) on my iPhone and a text comes through, she turns into a nosey little heifer.

Spawn: MOM! Hubber Hancock just texted you!  .... uhm.. .is "m-o-f-o" a bad word?  Muffu?  Moofoo?

Me: Give me my phone!

Spawn: Please, please, please let me text him back for you.

Me: Fine. 

Spawn: What should I say?

Me: I don't care... go away.

Spawn: Cool!

So = saw and Yo = You.  Kinda cute, huh?  I guess I don't hate it that much.  I guess.  But, this lil heifer needs more schooling on using punctuation properly.