I read your blog without permission. I am truly sorry. Just kidding. It’s “opposites day” and in case you’re not familiar with the term, it means, I am not sorry. Not even a little bit. In fact, I am so not sorry that I decided to proclaim it to the world (and by “world,” I mean the 7 people that actually read your blog) in my own blog entry right here. Ironic, huh?
You might be wondering how I put it all together, but that’s really neither here nor there at this point. The main point I am attempting to make is that you have been busted. Furthermore, I am way more technologically savvy than you will ever be, so consider yourself warned. Tread lightly and be prepared for the inevitable retaliation when you are least expecting it.
Aside from the normal every day “behavior stuff” that I could engage in to make your life absolutely unbearable (e.g. not washing my hands after I pee, “OMG, the horror!”), I’ve also been thinking of starting up a blog of my own. Obviously no experience is needed and I could really use a hobby this summer while you’re spending countless hours bitching about me on your blog. Clearly your seven readers need you more than I do. We can sit down on opposite ends of the room and you know, “blog together.” True bonding at its best. I don’t want to brag or anything either, but I won’t have to google “what is a blog?” before starting one. How embarrassing Mom. I mean, seriously? I have several topics of interest that come to mind, all with one common theme. You. Tit for tat mother, and here’s some food for thought…I can destroy you. Do you hear me? I have more dirt on you than you will ever have on me. This is a game changer for you. Proceed with caution.
Let’s talk about “whining” for a second, shall we? You know, your #1 golden rule of the household, “No Whining.” Yeah, I listen. I know what the damn rules are. You repeat them like a fucking broken record fifty times a day. What do I look like, an idiot? The fact is, I’m sick of listening to you. “If I have to say it ONE MORE TIME…Do I look like your servant?…I am NOT going to say it again (but alas you do EVERY DAMN TIME)…yada yada yada.” It’s obnoxious. Try a new approach. More importantly, you are a hypocrite. Yep, I said it. A “hippo-crit.” This whole blog is a never-ending ridiculous “whine fest.” Don’t pee your pants from the excitement Mom, I said “whine,” not “wine.” Ugh.
Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? You do not have perfect children because you are not a perfect mother. The sooner you accept this, the sooner we can all live in harmony. Personally, I feel that you are pretty damn lucky that we have turned out as good as we have so far. I’ve talked to Grandma and Grandpa. I’ve heard the stories. What can I say, they like me more than they like you, and after what you put them through, how can you blame them? Quite frankly, I’m surprised they lived to tell about it or at the very least aren’t living in some locked down private padded room facility. You should be ashamed, but I digress…
I really hate to state the obvious here Mom, but I did not ask to be born. It was a decision (albeit drunken) that you and Dad made…THREE TIMES! Get a grip and accept responsibility for the situation already. This is not MY fault. And don’t blame Dad either. I live here. I’m pretty sure he’s scared of you. He does as told.
Bottom line, we’ve got a ways to go yet in this little journey of ours and if you want someone to take you in and clip your old person toe nails and empty your bed pan in forty years, you better get your shit together. In addition, there are certainly several instances where I have had a burning desire to punch you in the face too, but clearly that will get us nowhere.
I know that you are “grasping” Mom. I witness you clinging for dear life on your sanity tree every single day. I’m not going to apologize for my part in it, because I am a kid after all. I cannot be held accountable for myself…that’s your job, shitty as it might seem some days. That said, I really want you to succeed in whatever your definition of success entails. We have common interests here. I can’t afford for you to plunge into a hole of despair and anxiety ridden guilt. I need things from you. Specifically, I need money for stuff, 3 balanced meals a day, a bath on occasion, a band aid every once in a while, clean underwear, a ride to places regularly, and someone to blame if I really fuck up big time (They always blame the mother first.). If this ridiculous blog is what you need to maintain your grip on reality, then carry on girlfriend. Now that I have set the record straight that most of the content on your blog is a bunch of bullshit, I feel much better about myself. You have my full support.
Please don’t thank me. It goes without saying, and quite honestly, the fact that you will now forever be a nervous wreck and lose sleep trying to figure out which one of your adorable children is responsible for hacking into your blog is gift enough for me.
P.S. I’m not who you think I am. Or am I? Sleep well Mommy dearest.