scooby snacks

You know that in some countries there are commonly known gestures you use when driving? Like in England, flashing your headlights to let someone go ahead of you, or in Israel, flashing your headlights to let someone know they're driving too slow? So tell me, what's the signal for "bloody bursting for the toilet so move out of the fucking way and let me pass"?

Ever had that happen to you? You're driving but you don't seem to actually be getting anywhere because in terms of your bladder, you're nowhere.



Your whole ride home is like an assault course or an arcade game...avoid the bus pulling out, avoid the learner driver, avoid the stopped taxi, the old guy in the saloon who's driving at 20 in a 60... You are so damned desperate for the loo that you're actually starting to believe that if you hit another red light, you're going to go right there in the driving seat.

Eventually you get to the home stretch, past the last lights, two turnings from home, when....you get behind another old guy. He's not going slow by normal standards, but by this time your bladder cockpit warning system is screaming DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! You can't turn left at the T-junction because some dumbass not-concentrating soccer-mom in her 4x4 is speaking on her cellphone and coming. And then there's the gate. You have to phone to open the gate. Call not going through, call not going through. GAAAAH! Finally!

Get in the house, up the stairs, pants down, bum on the bowl...OH NO! FORGOT TO CLOSE THE FRONT DOOR!

cured

your kid annoys me

What I am about to tell you is something that most people won't ever dare utter. That's because they are way too polite. Not me though, for I am applauded in certain (small) circles for my general intolerance of the human race.

So, people, let me tell you openly and honestly that some of my friend's kids and kid's friends just ANNOY THE BEJAYSUS OUT OF ME.

Offensive behaviour, part #1:
When I pick YOUR DAMNED KID up to bring her home to our house to play with my kids, YOUR DAMNED KID dawdles. YOUR DAMNED KID insists on walking along the wall and refuses to have their hand held even though they might fall, while my kids almost run into the street because they are not dawdling. When I tell YOUR DAMNED KID to get down off the wall and hurry the hell up, YOUR DAMNED KID throws itself on the pavement in a huff. My precious kids get run over.

Back at the house, YOUR DAMNED KID blocks my kids' path and won't let them pass. YOUR DAMNED KID says something mean and my makes my kids cry. No, my kids are not wusses. YOUR DAMNED KID was being mean. YOUR DAMNED KID snatches toys from my kids. YOUR DAMNED KID hits my kids. YOUR DAMNED KID rips the bow off Hello Kitty's head. YOUR DAMNED KID won't sit where she's told as she can annoy my kid far better if she takes her place instead. YOUR DAMNED KID wants to wear every single item in the dressing up box. One. After. Another.

Offensive behaviour, part #2:
When I pick up YOUR DAMNED KID to take her to the swimming pool, YOUR DAMNED KID doesn't listen to a word I say. YOUR DAMNED KID won't wear a swimming cap in the pool. YOUR DAMNED KID want's my kid's goggles and my kid's rubber ring. YOUR DAMNED KID tells me I have a fat stomach and ass. I don't care if your fucking kid is 4.

YOUR DAMNED KID is whining because she doesn't want the popcorn or the grisini or the strawberries or the grapes I brought from home. YOUR DAMNED KID wants me to buy her an ice cream. YOUR DAMNED KID doesn't want the "guest towel". YOUR DAMNED KID want's my kid's towel. YOUR DAMNED KID has taken my kid's towel! YOUR DAMNED KID is hitting my kid because he's trying to get his towel back.

YOUR DAMNED KID doesn't wait for me before running off back to the swimming pool. YOUR DAMNED KID refuses to get out when it's time to go. YOUR DAMNED KID then disappears because she decided she would get out after all, and go in the oppostie direction to where we were sitting.

YOUR DAMNED KID wants to climb on the gate to get out. YOUR DAMNED KID doesn't want to get off the gate. YOUR DAMNED KID runs through the car park. YOUR DAMNED KID wants to sit in the seat in the car WHERE MY KID IS ALREADY SITTING. YOUR DAMNED KID is shouting in the lifts. YOUR DAMNED KID wants to take my kid's tin of chocolates home with her. YOUR DAMNED KID is throwing a tantrum because you've arrived and have to go.

Epilogue:
How did it go today, was she good?
Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.