Father of the Year

So, as part of our Sunday Funday, Matt and Collin and I went to the movies (read: I joined them on their weekly movie date) to see Get Him to the Greek, starring the British guy from Forgetting Sarah Marshall as the same character he played in Forgetting Sarah Marshall.  Now, I wanted to see the movie as soon as I heard that he'd be Aldous Snow again, but I wanted to even more when Matt pointed out that the reason that the preview probably didn't make the movie seem that great was because of how offensive and crass the movie was going to be.  Sold I was.

 We got there early, bought our tickets, got our bucket-sized drinks, and headed to the theater.  And there we sat for a while, bitching about how stupid people are, and mocking the ridiculous previews.  There were previews for Prince of Persia, and for a bunch of other awful looking science fiction stuff.  So we sat there, confused, until Matt had the inspired idea to check his ticket to make sure we were in the right theater.  We were not.  Instead, we were in the theater for Just Wright, Queen Latifah's new flick. This one.



Fortunately, we caught our mistake in time, and made it over to the correct theater across the hall before Get Him to the Greek started.  And it was funny.  Really funny.  Really inappropriately and offensively funny.  And I was loving it. . .until I realized that there were three kids--about nine years old--sitting two rows in front of us.  Collin and I noticed it at the same time, when there was some [very inappropriate for a nine-year old child] banter about mind fucking, and we heard a child's laughter break out.  From that point on, all I could think about was the three kids in front of us, and their piece of shit dad who was sitting with them, looking at his Blackberry and ignoring the fact that this was--next to porn itself--the most inappropriate film he could have taken his three young children to see today.

At some point, I left the theater to use the bathroom, and when I returned I saw that the signs for the two movies had been switched, which accounted for our original confusion.  Matt was happy to hear this, since Collin and I had been laughing for over an hour about how Matt had lead us astray and tried to make us watch some crappy basketball movie.

After the movie was over--and after the asshole dad left his drink in its cupholder; I guess he was just too busy with the Blackberry to think to be courteous and throw it away--we saw the kids out in the hallway pointing out that the signs had been put back where they belonged.  It seemed that they'd made the same mistake that we had, except that their dad wasn't paying enough attention, or didn't care enough, to fix it.  Stellar.  Mom's going to have a fun time explaining to the kids all about fellatio, and the clap, and why people but heroin up their butt.  Father of the year, I tell you. 

Anyway, you (if you're over 18 and are not named Chloe) should go see Get Him to the Greek.  It's hilarious, and it's awful, and I want to go to an Aldous Snow show.  Just don't take the kids, unless you want them to one day be putting heroin up their own butt.**



**Today's episode reminded me a little bit of the time my mom was out of town for the weekend, and my dad went to Blockbuster to rent movies.  I was about 11 and Jordan was 7, and my dad got Boyz in the Hood and Silence of the Lambs.  He, at least, had to good sense to make us leave the room for Silence of the Lambs.  To date, neither Jordan nor I have put heroin up our butt, which is even more remarkable because we went to a high school that was nicknamed "Heroin High."  More on that later.

Should You Have Kids?

Well, that didn't take long.  The answer is no.  Thanks, STFU Parents.

Why? Why? Why Would You Do That?

I've not hidden my disdain for babies and/or motherhood here on the ol' blog. I've got my reasons, and they are million-fold. Is million-fold a thing? Well, let's just say that they're much more than threefold. (Ha! Chandler in a box!)

I'm just not wild about the weird little alien-looking humans. They freak me out. (But I will admit that they get cuter with age--to a point.)

I'm also not wild about the new trend of newborn photography, mostly because I think newborn babies are some of the ugliest creatures. And as though newborn photography (Look! My baby curled up in a basket! How adorable!) wasn't annoying enough, within this subset exists something even more bizarre.

This (stolen from STFU, Parents).

Who let the alien hold the diamonds?

Apparently, this newborn-holding-parents-wedding-rings photo op is a new trend (Shortlived, hopefully, like toe socks, or the spaghetti strap dresses with the white tshirt underneath.).

I'll admit that I don't fully comprehend the message. Is it "From this marriage came this creepy wrinkly human"? Is it, "We commit to you, dear freak show baby, as we committed to each other"? Or is it, "The purpose of marriage is to reproduce"? I hope it's not the last one.

Or is it just, "Check out how big my diamond is! It's even bigger than this kid's toe!"?

I really just don't get it. Would someone please explain?

Sorry I touched your baby at Wal-Mart. . .

A gem from STFU Parents.

The thing is, I have to be drunk to be able to handle stepping foot into a Wal-Mart. I also have to be drunk to want to touch a [disgusting, screaming, snot-nosed, disease-carrying] baby.

Here's the aforementioned sign.

ARE YOU F'ING KIDDING ME? (P.S., I maintain that the reason that Matt and I are pretty healthy--with the exception of our being grossly fat--is that we don't use hand sanitizer or go nutty about germs. I've taken this even farther by refusing to shower and by allowing Mitch to wash all of our dishes. I'm sure I'll eat these words soon, and soon you'll be hearing about how we've all come down with The Swine.)

Matt's response: "Hey, and if you're a germaphobe, don't take your baby to the dirtiest place on the planet. . .'Oh, hey, we were at the dump and someone touched my baby!'"