THE EVIL THOUGHTS, OF THE SELF INVOLVED

TRANQUILIZE THE CHILDREN!

There always comes a time in your friendship, when you start letting their call go to voice mail. This of course is after the stage where you actually answer, promising to call them back, but never do. You love your friend, you really do, and you want to hangout, however...

Upon seeing their name illuminate on your phone, your mind knows that this no longer JUST your friend calling. Months ago, when they told you they were pregnant, you pretended to be happy for them. You hugged them, jumped for joy and asked them about their plans for the nursery. However....

Your mind instantly thought about the fact that you'd have to attend YET ANOTHER baby shower for YET ANOTHER friend. You're secretly angry that so many people have the audacity to have babies when you are broke, because now yet again, you have to scramble up money for a baby shower gift. 

Now that this friend is calling, you think about the fact that conversations are no longer the same on the phone. They are excruciating. The baby has clawed its way out of her vagina and into the living world where it terrorizes every phone conversation with loud cries for help. Oh no, you are no longer talking to just your friend, you have to endure the agonizing annoyance of a baby's wail. Every two minutes, a juicy story is interrupted by crying, things falling and a grown woman sounding like an extra terrestrial, with unrecognizable noises to calm the baby down. It never works. So why answer that phone call? You think to yourself as you drive home from work, side-eyeing the phone. You just spent eight hours listening to self important adults, a babies bullshit tantrums are not what the doctor ordered. 

You secretly wonder why so many people have forced their babies onto you. Like your old coworker who you ran into at the supermarket...Why did she think I wanted to look at eighteen months worth of baby photos, scrolled through on her phone, when all I wanted was some Zatarain's on aisle 6? 

All babies look the same to you. They are all small with big heads that have a large loud hole in them. They are usually covered in saliva and smell like fresh bowel movement. You wonder why their parents bother taking them out of the crib to bother the world, much less YOU with their presence. 

And lets not even get into the restaurant, you know, Saturday night. You finally get that hot date with Dave. You feel so sexy, so sophisticated and you are simply getting your grown woman or man on...UNTIL....

A family of nine, complete with newborn twins and running rambunctious creatures interrupts your sexy. Isn't it passed their bedtime? Is there a babysitter shortage in Seattle? Why couldn't they go to Chuck E. Cheese? This is the Cheesecake Factory on date night!

One runs up to you and gives you a smile, waves their hand at you and an older lady at the next table laughs and says, "Isn't he adorable!" The mother of the thing is no where to be found and now you are left there to awkwardly pretend that this interruption is adorable. The child has the audacity to begin coughing, right there at your table, steadily staring into your eyes. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT'S MOMMY?! The mother eventually arrives, apologizing while smiling, once again, as if what just happened was cute. At this point, you forgot what you were telling Dave...

When you are on a plane or in a movie theater you simply wonder why these children were not victims of SIDS; But don't worry, you're thinking it, no one will know. I am the one writing about it, not you. 

MOVE BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY!

You want to run them over and you want it to be gruesome. Like a big bowling ball hitting a strike, you want to teach them a lesson. You want all of those got time on their hands, slow lazy people to get the fuck across the street! One is on her cell phone with her hair blowing in the wind, another is in a wheelchair and wasting your time while five others are negotiating their salaries in a board meeting right in the middle of the crosswalk! What the Hell are they doing? Don't they see me trying to make a right turn?! This is downtown! You need to move your pedestrian ass in a swift fashion! The last one finally gets more than halfway across when an elderly woman with a cane decides to appear out of no where on the other side of the crosswalk as four school children dart from behind her. This must be a joke, where is Ashton Kutcher? He didn't appear yesterday or the previous five hundred days this happened. You are in your car, therefore you are important. You've been waiting to make that damn right turn and you are going to make it! It doesn't matter that while on your lunch break as a pedestrian, you complain about cars almost hitting you. This is about now, and right now, you want her old ass to find her own strength like Whitney and catwalk it on over to the other side! Move bitch, get out the way! 

YELLOW ON THE HORIZON

Ahhh Yes! You are almost home after a long day of work and the gym. Just four more blocks and your car will pull right into that garage! What a beautiful late spring day. Windows down, breeze in your hair and for some reason your thirty year old ears are actually enjoying this Miley Cyrus song. Wait, is that what I think it is? Let me put my foot on this gas. 

You think to yourself as you see that yellow contraption in the distance taunting you. It's too late. Soon it slows down and you unfortunately have to as well. Because the damn school bus is on the other side of the street with that God forsaken red ass stop sign on the side of it! All of the slow ass kids are trying to get off of the bus. Any other time these kids would be running like Jackie Joyner Kersee, but right now they are apart of a wedding procession. Your bladder couldn't be more full and your patience couldn't be more thin. It's not like these kids are handicapped. Traffic is building behind you, your legs are shaking, a bug has landed on your earlobe and these kids are still not off of the bus. Then you notice a little boy tying his shoe in the middle of the street, you want to mistake him for a speed bump. 

HAPPY BITCHES ON FACEBOOK

No one is allowed to be happy on Facebook besides you. Why are all of these people rubbing their happy moments in your face? So what bitch, you had a birthday and get this...I WASN'T INVITED TO THE PARTY! 

You stare at your computer screen at work and mumble to yourself. Surely Sherita in the next cubicle can hear you mumbling but she has bigger things to worry about, like body odor for instance. After you spray more Febreeze you look at Toms timeline. Who are all these happy bitches?! Tom is your ex and you are way over him. So over him that you decide to click on every bitch who is tagged in the photo. Oh yes, you need to investigate, to see if they are really that attractive. It may just be the lighting in the club. 

#NOT-TAGGED#Becauseyouwerentthere

Well it seems all of them are hot. Why does Tom get to have video vixens on his birthday when all I did was blow out a cupcake in the lounge? Oh and Carroll from accounting took you out for drinks, but then she got hit on by some gorgeous guy in Brooks Brothers while you angrily ate your burger that was suppose to be medium but burned instead. You keep scrolling through Facebook to see Kathy got a new job, she must be making six figures since this is her seventh post about it. People are congratulating her, even your friend Stacey who just talked shit about her to you last night on the phone. Why is her new job such an accomplishment? Didn't she get her last job by going down on Deborah the CEO? I should be happy for her, wait am I jealous? You think to yourself as you look at your cubicle and get another whiff of Sherita's stank.