Well, here we go again. Off on a biz trip and jet-setting to wonderfully fabulous glitzy Las Vegas! Yeah, I wish. I’m actually sitting on a crowded flight on my way to steamy hot humid Florida to attend a convention and then spend a few days with the parental units. Accompanying us on this plane is the demon child from Hades. I need a stiff drink already.
You know, Florida, the clown car of a state that if the Jerry Springer show had invented it would be a perfect setting for the next Sharnado movie. Heck, I like the cheesy Sharknado movies. The next one should be based in Disney World, and have flying sharks and zombies attacking and eating the tourists. B-list guest stars like Shaq, Snoop Dog, the Olsen Twins, the crew of The Love Boat, and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills all get devoured or help save the day. Even a drunken John Stamos shows up in a cameo to get pulled over with another DUI, and gets swallowed whole by a Great White as he is doing the drunk “walk the line” test. Yet, I kid Florida. I kid. Hey, if not for Florida and Vegas the show COPS would have never existed. That there’s quality programming folks. Continue reading Up in the air at 30,000 feet with a demon child!→
Did she just really ask me to watch her spawn from Hell? Now, I am a responsible kind of fellow, and maybe I have that composure of which people seem to trust me for some reason. Yet, here I am baffled as to why someone would entrust a complete stranger with their DNA which plopped out from between their legs in a moment of excruciating agony. Hey, that was your choice lady, not mine. I am childfree by choice, and live a totally fulfilling life, thank you very much. The last thing I want to do is watch your crying, screaming, annoying child while you head to the bathroom to take a dump. Now don’t get me wrong, as I don’t hate childen, no really, but I am just not parent material. People constantly tell me and my gal that I look like I’d make a great dad. Bwahahahahaha! Yeah, this guy who still likes to go out drinking too much, partying too hard, and lives life on a whim. Sorry, I just don’t want to be trapped and looking miserable as I see so many parents here in NYC are. You know the type. They are pushing an oversized baby carriage, or carrying around their kid in a sack on their chest like an albatross around their necks. That forlorn look of despair in their eyes with a silent cry for help as they desperately seek an escape from the eternal situation they got themselves into. As I view these people I can only wonder if they rue the day they discarded their freedom in a moment of breeding frenzy. All it takes is a minute of ejactulatory bliss in exchange for twenty years of a parental jail sentence. Awww heck no. Sorry, it’s just not for me. Continue reading Hey NYC parents – your spawn are not my problem!→