I judge parents. I judge them all the time because I’m a parent and it is impossible to not compare.
I don’t always say my criticisms, but I am thinking them. Who here is really able to control that? I internally shake my head when you try and befriend your child instead of parenting them. I mumble to myself when you wonder why little Johnny is always getting hurt because you never use the word “NO” to your little angel. I judge your home, your actions, and your inaction. I am a parent and I can’t help but judge you by the standard I hold myself to.
People sometimes wonder if other parents or adults are criticizing them mentally while they struggle with their kids. We are. We all are. The ones that claim they don’t judge are only saying that because they don’t need to judge you anymore, they already have.
Have you ever seen a parent use the word “please” in a million different ways? Please means no, please means please, and please also means “I’m serious this time.”
Please… if you don’t get upstairs and do what I told you now! You’ll learn what please really means!
I’m glad I don’t have a son. I would have been incredibly hard on him because as a parent, I am here to parent. My kids can make friends at school. They can make friends with cool uncles, aunts, and grandparents.
I’m a father. I’m here to parent and not to be your best bud. I don’t use the word “please.” I tell them to do things because that’s what you have to do to be a real parent.
Sometimes I feel like I am being punished and I came up with a list of reasons why that might be happening.
I didn’t have wifi on the plane and I get bored.
1 – I did take that Golden Fleece.
2 – This whole time Gary has been Mark Zuckerburg and the joke is on me.
3 – Maybe before the orphanage I was really a prince and all my blessings have been spent.
4 – That wasn’t a deer I hit that day. It was a unicorn and I’m basically fucked.
5 – I’ll come up with more later.
This commercial just told me I could buy a drug to cure my stomach problems, but may cause me to get a life threatening disease called Kidoacidocious (spelling? A disease that causes the game to end). Why can’t they find a drug that just heals you… and doesn’t “possibly” kill you?
I give people 24 hours to fix their mistakes and they don’t take it. You guys must want me to turn ugly. Doesn’t it feel wrong or is it just so easy to copy and paste someone else’s work? Didn’t your mother teach you not to steal? Did you copy homework in school? Did you take photos off the internet and use them as your own in college? No? So why in the fuck do you people think it’s right to do in the blogosphere? Because bloggers aren’t real writers? Because my words aren’t bound by a cover? Do I need to buy a giant copyright symbol for my damn site? I swear bloggers make me want to stop sharing my work for free sometimes. Grow the fuck up.
I think my new fashion blog has been going great. Next the animal costumes and maybe some face paint. Then I can show you all my dance moves and I can throw down on a beat. Maybe convert them to vlogs on my YouTube channel.
… ok I won’t be doing any of that.
And this fashion blog sucks. I told you this was a bad idea Gary.