Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I Hope You're Still Proud When She's a Crack Whore

Like most of you single 20 somethings no longer living off your parents, I rent an apartment in a big city. Over the holidays however, when I have to see my family for the required one time a year, I have to hang out in the suburbs. Someday when I can afford a house, family etc. I guess I will be forced to move out to a nice neighborhood with picket fences. Someplace we can all live happily in our dream home with a yard for the dog, and sidewalks where the rugrats can't pick up broken beer bottles or consort with homeless people. Until that point when I'm forced to make this life decision, I have no desire to move out to the suburbs because the burbs fucking blow. Everytime I hang out in the burbs something else pisses me off. There's no cool bars or restaurants to hang out at except for TGIFridays and Olive Garden. They have trendy overpriced, overcrowded grocery stores where you can't find a damn thing that doesn't have the word "organic" attached to its description. They have bored cops at every corner waiting to pull you over for speeding in a school zone during any time of day that children are nowhere to be seen. Jesus Christ I hate the burbs with a passion.

Most of all, I generally hate the yuppie families that populate Pleasantville, USA. With their smug attitudes, annoying packs of children that never shut up in public, and their fucking oversized minivans that cut you off in every strip mall parking lot. Nothing pisses me off more than when some fat cunt with 5 kids pulls out in front of me in her Dodge Caravan and nearly wrecks my car, because she's on her cell phone gossiping with her gal pal or figuring which field junior has soccer practice at. Especially when you honk at them and then they give you that confused look and hold their phone up. Yeah I know you're on your phone. We're in a fucking parking lot. PARK your fat ass somewhere and handle your important conversation. After all this happens the bitch and her posse of rugrats that should've been aborted drive off in front of me, and I note that their vehicle's rear end is covered with that most infuriating of suburban accessories. The official symbol of suburban douchebaggery. I am talking of course, about proud parent bumper stickers.

People that put proud parent bumper stickers on their cars should be fed to piranhas. I hate these Goddamn people. Clearly they have nothing to validate their own sad existence, so they have to advertise to the world how fucking amazing their child is. There is a place for celebrating the various activites and achievements of your children. It's called your house. Hang up all the shit you want in your own humble abode that reminds YOU of how awesome your kid is. My parents haven't been proud of me since I started drinking when I was like 11, but back when I wasn't a complete degenerate, they kept all praise they heaped upon me within the confines of our four walls. Fucking cover every corner of your home with trophies, honor roll certificates, science fair prizes, and special olympics gold medals that celebrate your child's minor achievements. Fine. Fucking put a sign on your front door that says "My son's car won the Cub Scout pinewood derby." Great. Just don't advertise to me and the rest of your neighbors how awesome your little pisqueak because we could give way less than a shit. Nobody is impressed by the fact that your 1st grader is an "honor student" because he doesn't piss himself or eat the finger paint in class on a daily basis. Asshole.

You know what the most ridiculous part about proud parent bumper stickers is? The fact that they're celebrating victory WAY before the finish line. I'm no prophet, but I can assure you that kid you're currently so proud of has PLENTY of time left to fuck up his life. Your son could (ideally) be huffing glue and robbing convenience stores by the time he's 14. You're celebrating the fact that he's an honors student in 3rd grade? You're like a Detroit Lions fan buying Super Bowl tickets after a 2-0 start. Ohhh you're the proud parent of a middle school cheerleader!! Great. All that means is that your daughter is already the school HJ queen. By 16 she'll be banging half the varsity locker room. Then at 17 she'll get knocked up by the star QB, ruining her chance of going to college. Then nobody will think she's pretty anymore so she'll develop a variety of chemical dependencies leaving you to take care of her little bastard child all day. Not so supportive of her pom-pom dreams now huh? Meanwhile her baby-daddy Bro Montana will be supporting princess and Junior performing oil changes at the local Jiffy Lube, dreaming of one day becoming a PE teacher. Seems he didn't get that pigskin scholarship he was banking on when he was pulling Ds in all his classes, and can now only get into colleges that feature the word "community." Awww :(. Seems his folks aren't as proud of their star "Panther football player at George McFucktard High" anymore.

Look if your kid is some hybrid child prodigy that's a mix of a young Albert Einstein and Lebron James, I'm happy for you. Shower him with all the praise and support you feel like. Just don't go holding your head too high and advertising his excellence to everyone TOO early. You never know when things will take a turn for the worst. After all, My parents were once the proud parents of a Cub Scout pinewood derby champion, who won the science fair, made the honor roll and played varsity basketball. Now their pride and joy is an angry asshole who posts profane rants on the internet while drinking Jack Daniels in his underpants. Shit can go downhill in a heartbeat...


  1. hilarious.
    and yes, shit can go downhill in a heart beat.

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