As I’ve already complained about today, I’m sick. I have a wicked sore throat, runny nose, general malaise…I’ve carried on as best I can, (groceries, laundry, dishes) but by about 1:00 I simply had to lay down. My daughter, from here on to be known as Satan’s Little Helper, chose her Hello Kitty video to watch so mommy could get a little rest. This is the pain in the ass of all videos as it is comprised of 20 minute segments where you have to press the play button between each one to keep the freaking thing going. 20 minutes is just enough time to drift off to sleep before you are awakened by the maddening theme song telling you to press the damn play button again. But that’s all she’d agree to. She’s diabolical. Satan’s spawn.

During the 20 minutes of the first segment, Satan’s Little Helper employed the following parental torture techniques:

  • used an empty paper towel roll as a megaphone to yell directly into my ear “Mommy! Waaaake UP!”
  • jumped on the dog
  • threw raisins at the dog
  • sat on the dog’s head
  • used my face as a back rest
  • straddled my hip and jumped up and down on me like a rodeo bronco
  • peed her pants while sitting on my hip (there’s nothing quite like that feeling)
  • put raisins up my nose
  • jumped on the couch
  • fell off the couch
  • poured my glass of ginger ale into her Disney Princess tea pot, and dumped it on the carpet.

I wanted to throw my child through a window. I wanted to hurt her BAD. Unfortunately, and this is so frustrating, the worst thing I can do to her legally is hope that some day, maybe 30 or more years from now, some little fuck decides to mess with her when she’s weak and defenseless on the couch. I’ll have to wait for it, but some day revenge will be mine. And I will laugh. And I will not come over to babysit.

Mom, if you’re reading this, you prayed for this moment didn’t you? I’m sure you find it fucking hilarious.

Shut up.

Can I just ask a question?

Why can’t stores match the corresponding items to the corresponding season?

I walk into you know where the other day dressed as a snow-person. I loosen my scarf and take off my wool hat that is so large it nearly covers my eyes, and what do I see before me but a sea of bathing suits. Bathing suits! I had to turn around and look outside because I thought I had inadvertently stepped into another dimension. “Is it suddenly July and I missed it?” I wondered. To my comfort, it was still February outside. The store was just playing a prank on me.

And then I open my email this morning and guess what? Old Navy wants to remind me to “follow the sun: get mix and match swim styles!” But there isn’t any sun because it’s fucking FEBRUARY! There’s snow on the ground and I’m just trying to keep my schnoz from freezing and falling off my face! Fuck spandex, I need wool, people!

Apparently, winter is like, so last season. It’s time for tankinis and barbecues, honey! Slather on the sunscreen and just pretend all that snow on the ground is for making slushy margaritas. I know that somewhere there’s a boardroom full of suits snickering to think of all us assholes shivering in our mix and match bathing suits, huddling around a gas grill for warmth and holding frozen hot dogs.

Clearly, I have a giant problem with this season jumping bullshit. What would happen if, say, I crashed my sled into a tree during the last snow storm and I needed to get a new one because they’re predicting more snow for this weekend? I’d be fucked, because all I find at the store right now are bikinis and beach towels. I can’t sled down a snowy hill on a beach towel now can I?

Does anyone else find this totally stupid or am I just being a cranky pants?

I’m sick again, you know.