So I had this whole entry almost written and then I got crazy hyper fingers and accidentally clicked the little house instead of opening a new window and poof, there it went.
It sucked anyway.
So I know the secret of One-A-Day WeightSmart vitamins.
They make you hurl, see.
I guess One-A-Day BulimiaSmart didn’t have quite the ring to it.
I guess they might make you lose weight because you throw up all day when you take one.
I bought them several months ago and couldn’t figure it out for the longest time. I was barfing all the time there and I was like “what’s up, I never throw up!” and then finally I realized it was the vitamins. They’re tummy bombs or something. So I stopped taking them.
Oh, argh, I just remembered that I need to rant about something. I’ll try to keep it brief.
If you have children, don’t waste your holier-than-thou breath saying things like the following to me:
- “You’ll understand when you have kids.”
- “You don’t understand, because you don’t have children.”
- “You’ll know what I mean when you have a family of your own.”
This is particularly obnoxious and nauseating when I haven’t even made any comments that might lead you to believe that I think I know what it’s like to have children.
Oh, and by the way, I do have a family. And it’s bigger than yours. And I live with my family, and I drive my sisters around, and I go to their volleyball games and their basketball games and their softball games and their band concerts and so on and on and on.
I would never dream of saying “You’re old, so you don’t understand,” or “You’re rich, so you don’t really know where I’m coming from,” or anything along those lines. Why? Because it’s inappropriate, impolite, and quite often completely irrelevant.
Have kids. Love your kids. Go to their choir concerts and their violin lessons and their tennis lessons and their school conferences. Tuck them in at night. Wake them up with kisses in the morning. Frame their drawings and put them on your office walls.
Brag about them all you want to. Show me pictures and I promise I’ll say nice things about them, even if they’re ugly little rat bastards. Tell me of their accomplishments and why they are so special to you.
But keep your fucking presumptuous comments to yourself.