Dear Grammy, Grampy, Nana and Pop Pop,
Ahhh, yes, here we go again. The most wonderful time of the year. For you. For me it’s more like let’s see how much more crap I can fit in my house until TLC comes knocking at my door because they think I’m an F’ing hoarder. I know that you guys are about to jiz (giz???) in your pants you’re so excited about all the shit you can buy for your grandkids this holiday, but not so fast. Before you whip out your Amex/Target/Mastercards, check out this little list of “guidelines” I’ve made for you this year. The following is a list of presents NOT to buy my kids this holiday.
1. Anything alive. Because you know what happens to things that are alive? They die. And you know what sucks? Explaining to my kid why Fluffer Nutter the hamster is as hard as a rock and stuck in his tube. And you know what sucks even worse? Fucker Nutter living a healthy life for years and years to come. Because guess who has to clean his E coli-infested poop cage. Yours F’ing truly. As if wiping two asses besides my own isn’t enough already.
2. Stocking stuffers. Or as I like to call them, cheap pieces of shit. I get enough crappy stocking stuffers year-round for free. They’re called McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. Would you like fries with that? And how about a plastic piece of crap that was made in China and causes cancer.
3. Any toy that hurts when I accidentally step on it with bare feet. I don’t care if the ER doctor is George F’ing Clooney. Getting a bristle block surgically removed from my heel is not worth it.
4. Any toy without an off button. And you know what, I’m going a step further and saying any toy with an off button that doesn’t turn off IMMEDIATELY when you push it. You know the crap I’m talking about. You push the off button and it keeps on yapping, “Woof, woof! Thanks for playing! I’ll see you again later!” I pushed off. If I wanted you to keep talking I would have pushed the dissertation button. It’s like when you’re on the phone and you tell someone you have to go and they say okay but then proceed to ask you a thousand questions.
5. Any toy that requires me to play it with them. Toys are how I keep my kids busy while I’m trying to get important shit done around the house. Like the laundry, and the dishes, and waxing my mustache, and pooping.
6. Barbie dolls. I know I’m supposed to be against them because they give my daughter a false sense of a woman’s body shape, but that’s not what I’m worried about. My kid has no sense of negative self-image yet. If she did, she wouldn’t be doing naked downward dog every night while I’m trying to get her into a pull-up. Nope, I’ll tell you who doesn’t need to see hourglass Barbie bitches everywhere. Me. If I want to feel like shit about my body I just look in my full-length mirror. I don’t need a nine-inch plastic doll to make me feel like a
hippopotomus hippopatamus (how the F do you spell this word?!) hippo.
7. This toy.
Just in case this catalog came to your house too, don’t you dare buy this. I know it looks original and all, but I’ll bet this is the kind of shit Jeffrey Dahmer got when he was a kid. I can already picture it. First my kid will be playing with this, and before you know it she’ll be playing with the neighbor’s cat carcass, and then one day the police will show up to take what I thought was leftover meatballs out of my garage freezer but really it’s our babysitter’s head.
8. And speaking of carcasses, stuffed animals. To say we don’t need anymore is the understatement of the year. You know that game where there are a million stuffed animals in a big glass box and you have to steer the claw to try to pluck one out? Sometimes I feel like I live in that. One day I fully expect the claw to drop down through our skylight.
9. Talking dolls. For one, they creep me the shit out. The way they talk without their lips moving like ventriloquists. Freeeaky. And here’s another reason I can’t stand them. Do you know what talking dolls say? Shit like, “Mommy, feed me,” and “I wet myself Mommy. Time for a diaper change!” This is the kind of crap I already hear like 40 times an hour from my own kids, so why in God’s name would I want to hear more of that?
10. Horns, drums, cymbals, pianos, microphones, guitars, maracas, tambourines, bells, whistles, mp3 players, karaoke machines, sirens, rattles, buzzers, alarms, toys that beep, buzz, or have one of those annoying ladies who sings like she’s all serious and shit like my middle school guitar-wielding music teacher.
That’s it. Good luck out there! You’re gonna F’ing need it.
Love and kisses,
Because I’m The Mom
P.S. Don’t forget to enter your email address below so you never miss any of my hilarious shit because sometimes facebook is a douchebag and doesn’t show it to a lot of people. It’ll onyl send you an email when I post a new blog, which is not often because I’m pretty F’ing lazy. See, I didn’t even fix the misspelling in that last sentence.