Ah, These Kids Today…Part 2 (Electric Boogaloo)

So, yeah.  I have a couple of boys.  Simon is six, Rhys is almost three.  Good kids.  Spoiled rotten, but hey, that’s the fault of me and the missus.  Do I want to beat ’em sometimes?  Sure.  People without kids always say “That’s HORRIBLE!!  How can you even JOKE about abusing your kids?  They’re all God’s little angels!”  People that have kids know better.  Oh, do we ever.

 

The face of evil.

 

My kids are what we in the parenting industry like to call “all boy.”  Dirt, guns, fights, hockey, farts, couch-cushion forts…the whole nine.  Initially, I wanted a boy AND a girl. My sperm refused me, and now I have two li’l Terminators.  I have friends with daughters that have mentioned to me that they love their little princesses but intend to suture up their lady parts until well after the girls’ twentieth birthday.  I then remind them that without access to the vagina, kids will find all sorts of interesting places to put penises.  This usually results in my friend taking a swing at me.  The truth hurts.  Usually me.

Sorry! I meant your OTHER daughter!

My kids will make it to teenagerhood, provided the “tooth fairy” doesn’t put too much Benadryl in their juice (go the fuck to SLEEP already!!) and cause them to lapse into a coma or worse. I do not look forward to those years.  I do not look forward to those years because I have worked at a public pool.  We’d work the pool in the summer and then open the public ice rink in the fall.  I got to witness the teenage population up close, and it ain’t pretty.  Ever see the Harmony Korine/Larry Clark film “Kids” from 1995?  Might as well have been a documentary.  Kids fucking, kids doing drugs, kids stealing, kids beating someone with a skateboard, kids giving each other AIDS.  I saw just about all of that shit take place whilst working for the man to put a little change in my pocket.  Used condoms in the parking lot, empty bottles of whiskey and porn mags in the restrooms….legit, yo.  I mean, hell…that was the early 90’s.  I can only imagine kids today are already into gang-bangs and making their own snuff films. “Um…Timmy ran away, mom.  Yeah.  By the way, does dad have any of the following items: lye, a hacksaw, gloves, and a section of garden hose?  I’m asking for a friend.”

Best. Science project. Ever.

And the jailbait.  Don’t get me fucking started on the jailbait (and please, lord…don’t let me get caught fucking the jailbait.)  Swear to God, the other day I was shopping for Halloween costumes for my children.  At the same time and location, a mother (I guess?!?) had her two thirteen-ish looking daughters checking out SLUTTY HALLOWEEN COSTUMES.  Slutty Pirate, Slutty Cop, Slutty Schoolgirl (which is ironic, since these two WERE Slutty Schoolgirls) and so on.  The mom (?) asked one of the workers if they had any of these costumes in a thirteen-year-old size.  The woman told her that yes, in fact, they were in stock, but warned her that these slutty costumes RAN A LITTLE SMALL.  Yes, these whoreish costumes (complete with thigh-highs and extra slut sauce, whatever that is.  Okay, I made that part up, but still…) were made to fit PRE-TEEN GIRLS!!  What the fuck sort of parent lets their daughter go out in such an outfit? “Oh, I like your costume, dear!  What are you supposed to be…Rape Bait?” Or better: “Mom, does this skirt show too much underaged gash when I cross my legs?” HOLY SHITBALLS!!!

Dude...she's like twelve.

I actually have a solution to the pedophilia problem.  Seriously, this thought has crossed my mind.  Let’s pass some sort of legislation or maybe even just suggest strongly that Victoria’s Secret can no longer sell yoga pants with words like “Pink” or “Love” or “Cram Your Sausage Here” on the ass to anyone UNDER the age of eighteen.  Maybe even take it further and make it mandatory for college-aged sluts to wear these pants so that they can be more easily identified.  The chlamydia rates would drop sharply. 

DUDE! TWELVE!!

Yes, I know there are male sluts, an that’s a discussion for another time,  one probably involving Ed Hardy and tight Hollister shirts.  I might even get into another double-standard:  guys who mention how much they like that saucy little Sam on iCarly are branded as creepy pedophiles.  Thirty-eight-year-old women that get all self-lubricated at the sight of a seventeen-year-old Taylor Lautner are seen as women “in their prime” looking to get one last statutory rape in before menopause. Uh-huh. Fair and balanced.  That’s me.

Sexy as FUCK.

 Seeya at the mall, kids…

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