Nine random things I really F’ing want

1. I want a plexiglass divider in my car like they have in limousines. These stupid car companies are all braggy like, “Our minivan was designed by a woman.” And I’m like yeah, brainfarter, maybe she has a vajayjay, but I’ll tell you what she doesn’t have. Two rugrats screaming at the top of their lungs in the back seat playing a game of Let’s-See-How-Close-I-Can-Put-My-Finger-To-My-Sister’s-Face-Before-It-Annoys-The-Crap-Out-Of-Her-And-She-Starts-Screaming-Like-A-Banshee.

2. I want a law that says fathers are legally required to take care of their newborns for the first nine months of their lives. To make up for the fact that we had to deal with them for nine months in utero. And in vagino. I mean no, I didn’t have to change any diapers while I was preggers but I did have a hemorrhoid the size of a soccer ball. So unless Mr. Baby Daddy’s giving me permission to shove a soccer ball up his ass, he’s changing this poop machine’s diaper for the next nine months.

3. I want all airplanes to have a children’s section. No, I don’t mean a family section. I mean grownups in the front, douchenuggets in the back. And instead of a curtain divider, there should be a soundproof, bulletproof, electrified door. Plus, a video camera that lets us see when our rugrats are being extra douchey so we can do something about it. And by do something, I mean order a drink and make a huge-ass toast to the poor flight attendant who’s stuck back there with them. Succcckerrrrr!!!

4. From now on, I want maternity pants to be called genius pants. Because once you wear maternity pants, you realize how F’ing genius they are. And calling them maternity pants implies that we can only wear them when we’re pregnant, which is total bullshit because why should we only be allowed to wear super comfy pants for the nine months we’re inside out piñatas with udders? If I had a pair of genius pants, I’d wear them every F’ing day.

5. I want a corral at the front of every store. Not a cart corral. A kid corral. With some babysitters who can wrangle our kiddos while we shop for groceries. I mean sure, it might cost the supermarket a few buckeroos, but do you know how much more shit they’re gonna sell?! Because A. I won’t have to spend 9,000 minutes peeling my rugrat off the floor because I wouldn’t buy him Sugary Boogary Marshmallow O’s, and B. whenever I go shopping alone I spend a shitload because everything looks totally awesome and rainbowy and I walk around like I’m acid-tripping because I’m basically high on being childless.

6. I want all thermostats to be rigged with a thingamajig that makes them only work for women. Like if a person with a Y chromosome walks up and tries to change the thermostat, it will say Error and won’t work for them. And for an extra ten dollars you can buy a deluxe version thermostat that will call him a jackass and tell him to back the F up.

7. I want MNOs to be changed to MMTNOs. Mandatory Mom’s Thursday Night Out. Every Thursday night, moms everywhere will be legally required to get the F out of the house/apartment/teepee/igloo before the kids’ bedtime. I don’t give a shit who’s gonna watch the kids. Dad, a babysitter, a grandma, the guinea pig, it doesn’t matter. As long as the kids don’t die and mom gets to down a bottle of wine with her friends.

8. I want teachers to start getting paid what they’re really worth. I mean which is harder? Sitting in the corner office on a conference call playing Candy Crush and surfing porn sites? Or getting twenty little hooligans to sit still in circle time and pay more attention to the lesson and less attention to their nutsacks because it’s warm weather and they’re all wearing shorts and have easy access to their junk.

9. I want all women to get a FREE tummy tuck and boobie lift after giving birth of they want it. You know, kind of like payment for populating the earth and keeping the human race from dying out. Seems like a fair trade to me.

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And don’t forget to lock yourself in your bathroom and read my hilarious book that’s full of a lot of other funny shit. I Heart My Little A-Holes. Because I heart them, but sometimes they’re a-holes.