Don’t you just hate when you get home after a long day at work and your kid informs you that he has a project due the next day?  He needs posterboard, photo quality printouts, and an array of equipment to create this last-minute masterpiece.  WTF?  It was then suggested that I was at fault because at the meeting last week with the teacher, she mentioned it was due and examples were shown to me so that I could be clear about what was expected.

I guess it hardly matters that despite the fact that I have advocated (to the point of threat of bodily injury) for the use of a wonderful tool called an academic planner (which is sort of like the calendars we adults use to organize our business and personal activities so that we can keep up with all our shit and pay our bills)… despite that, this project was not recorded there. I guess the fact that I have, from the wee grades, been an involved parent who actively engages in collaborative support efforts with regard to my little angel (a highly intelligent, chatty and lovable boy who can recite every make, model and year of every high performance vehicle imaginable seen while driving) by working with all parties to establish game plans for success… that matters not.

The years of holding his hand, showing him what to do, how to approach and think about things, how to find and weigh alternatives, how to organize and track, and how to ask when he doesn’t have a clue… all that effort has fallen by the wayside, in one evening. Which brings me to my original point of complaint… BAD PLANNING ON YOUR PART DOES NOT CONSTITUTE A CRISIS ON MY PART.

Ok, so I acquiesced on getting the posterboard since the drugstore is right around the corner.  But kid, you are gonna have to make do with bad drawings because there is no cartridge in the printer, and if you have to print something, do it tomorrow at the library at school.  Get your shit together kid, because life is gonna fuck you if you don’t.  In the meantime, no Xbox for a week!

Fucking teenagers.

LOVE MOM

Is it just me, or does this song, The Fox, make Gangnam Style look like it was written by a Nobel Society Genius? It’s like some kind of nightmarishly insane Children’s book come to life with Old MacDonald cosplay, and will certainly make you lose more brain cells than reading Paris Hilton’s Twitter archive. And since they keep asking the question, I’d just love to tell them, the Fox either barks like the small canine it is, makes up some really horrible news, or says, “Sorry, you’re not my type.” Thank you. Drive through.

Changelog: Updates the 90′s saying, “Never judge a .com by its profits and earnings.”

You can bet there’s another sign that says Yale Sale.

Is Facebook as bad as Google+, where everyone’s imaginary friends are stuck going in circles as if awaiting their medication?