Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Helping Papa

The BadPuppy isn't even a year old and already wants to help Daddy with work. Not only is Puppy not even fazed anymore when Daddy's head repeatedly fills the new REC's-head-shaped-dent in front of the keyboard in the home office, she howls and yelps with him in unison, demanding to sit on his lap and help.

Today I let her help me write an answer template for mail I too often have to send.

Dear ____________,

Your response makes less sense than an unemployed art history major protesting cheap instant ramen. Considering the current economic situation it's really unfair that someone like you has a job like this when there are so many qualified and capable people out there still unemployed.

If you ask a question, you have acknowledged that the person who is answering it knows more than you. That means you don't argue with the answer before even trying it, following the instructions you were given exactly.

You are a fuckwit and this ticket is closed for "Customer Refusal".

Love,
My daddy.

OK, I translated it for her since she's still working on her first yips and barks. What she actually bashed out (before drooling like a bull mastiff all over the space bar sending me into an enforced work time-out) was
iadsdsaklöl ä####ä

ö

sdaae21d21-l
ö

dwqe12e21,m,mmlölöqdwmkl
<xx<<lppü+<

+
+
+üö

#
ö#

löö

lklm
lkmxqdwl
ömdqwl,m,mnmn


That's still a few orders of magnitude more intelligent and congruent than most of the shit that appears in my Inbox. They grow up so quickly.

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Thursday, October 29, 2009

What Women Want

So you're thinking of having your bitch squeeze out a few puppies? The following is my answer to a question someone recently asked me about "pregnant sex".


First trimester:
"I'm gonna barf." Once a week there's a 10-minute window with, "I don't feel sick! Get your ass over here and fuck me NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!!!"

Second trimester:
FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME NOW NOW NOW FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME SOME MORE! Go make me toast! And bacon*. And more toast. Now FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE! I need more toast. Since you're headed toward the kitchen anyway you can make me some bacon-flavoured toast and pile it high with bacon, and then bring the bacon-toast-bacon sammich back here and then FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME MORE!!

Third trimester:
I'm fat. I'm horrible. I'm ugly. I can't even see my overgrown bush. You only want to fuck me to make fun of me. I can deal with that. So are you going to fuck me? I know you only want to do it to mock me. That? It's my cervix. Yeah, it dropped. No, the baby probably doesn't notice your cock is pounding against her little head but.... huh? That's disturbing? GODDAMMIT I NEED SOME SEX NOW, BITCH! No, you can't fuck me in the ass. Because half of it is falling out, that's why! I'll blow you if you just... move... over this way... If you make that Greenpeace dragging me back into the water joke again you're going to bleed now FUCK ME ALREADY! You did this to me so you damned well better do this to me, NOW!

Immediate post-birth:
GODDAMMIT I'M HORNY! And in pain. And my guts will be leaking out through my crotch for the next two months. NO, you CANNOT go UTBNB because my asshole is still trying to turn itself inside out. No, I'm too tired for a blowjob. Handjob, too. You know that youporn site I told to quit spending so much time at? Yeah, spend some time there. But once I've healed you better fuck me like your life depends on it BECAUSE IT DOES.

Three months post-birth:
The kid's asleep. We have five minutes. Pay attention: fuck me, fuck me good, and for gods' sake do NOT make a fucking sound because I will end you if we have to stop in the middle to replace the damned pacifier or sing the Sleepy Song again. Let's GO!

*
She was a vegetarian before she got pregnant.

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In compliance with $MegaCorp's general policies as well as my desire to
continue living under a roof and not the sky or a bus shelter, I add this:

DISCLAIMER:
The views expressed on this blog are my own and
do not necessarily reflect the views of $MegaCorp, even if every
single one of my cow-orkers who has discovered this blog agrees with me
and would also like to see the implementation of Root Cause: 17-Fuckwit.