the world of gayeBLOW UP BARNEY !!
August 21st 2008 01:58
BLOW UP BARNEY
If by some chance there is such a thing as reincarnation and I am sent back as a woman again I know for a fact I will not have children. Why you ask ? Well because the image of screaming babies turning purple with anger, two year olds bashing each others heads in because one of them has half a chewed up lolly and the other one wants it, and toddlers wanting to cuddle up in bed and then proceeding to piss all over the side of you, kids threatening suicide at the dinner table because you insist they eat a pea, and all of the other wonderful images burned into my brain, are so deeply entrenched death will not dim them.
I may come back with child bearing hips and a womb in working order but the only seeds that will be planted will be in the garden, NOT ME. !!
I know most women out there wait for the day to become a mother and find babies adorable. So do I, but I prefer them in a glass jar on a shelf somewhere where they can't hurt anyone. I'm just not mother material (as you can probably tell), after a day with one or two of these little people my nerve endings speak to me. They say "pass the valium quickly and run for your life". I become robotic after babysitting and taking orders from knee high nazi's with high pitched voices yelling in my face "I don't want square sandwiches, I want little triangles". My brain caves in after a couple of hours of watching everyone's favourite government employee Postman Pat and his skanky cat.
I don't want to entertain children by bouncing my bulk around the loungeroom to the sounds of Hanna Montana !! I prefer her when she's being a bad girl and outraging the public by posing half naked on the internet. And god save me I hate The Wiggles. When the children start wiggling those pudgy little fingers in my face and begging me to sing Dorothy The Dinosaur I know it's time to change the DVD and put Nightmare On Elm Street and scare the shit out of the little tykes.
I cannot, CANNOT sit through an episode of Barney, I LOATHE him. He is so good and pure he makes me puke. And the children on the show, with thier happy, happy faces and thier perfect hair make me seriously consider becoming a serial killer. Barney is evil incarnate in my opinion. Can't someone drop a studio light on his head or something.
So there you have it, I am so deeply scarred, tainted and damaged by the demands and needs of dwarf dictators that I just can't possibly go through it again. Of course, I know I was NEVER a child, a brat, a baby, I have always been as I am now - PERFECT.
And just to prove I am not alone in my short people predjudice i found these little poems in "The book of nonsense" (one of my favourite educational books).
Billy in one of his nice new sashes
Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes
Now, although the room grows chilly
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy
And my other favourite
Father heard his children scream
So he threw them in the stream
Saying as he drowned the third
"Children should be seen, NOT heard"!
If by some chance there is such a thing as reincarnation and I am sent back as a woman again I know for a fact I will not have children. Why you ask ? Well because the image of screaming babies turning purple with anger, two year olds bashing each others heads in because one of them has half a chewed up lolly and the other one wants it, and toddlers wanting to cuddle up in bed and then proceeding to piss all over the side of you, kids threatening suicide at the dinner table because you insist they eat a pea, and all of the other wonderful images burned into my brain, are so deeply entrenched death will not dim them.
I may come back with child bearing hips and a womb in working order but the only seeds that will be planted will be in the garden, NOT ME. !!
I know most women out there wait for the day to become a mother and find babies adorable. So do I, but I prefer them in a glass jar on a shelf somewhere where they can't hurt anyone. I'm just not mother material (as you can probably tell), after a day with one or two of these little people my nerve endings speak to me. They say "pass the valium quickly and run for your life". I become robotic after babysitting and taking orders from knee high nazi's with high pitched voices yelling in my face "I don't want square sandwiches, I want little triangles". My brain caves in after a couple of hours of watching everyone's favourite government employee Postman Pat and his skanky cat.
I cannot, CANNOT sit through an episode of Barney, I LOATHE him. He is so good and pure he makes me puke. And the children on the show, with thier happy, happy faces and thier perfect hair make me seriously consider becoming a serial killer. Barney is evil incarnate in my opinion. Can't someone drop a studio light on his head or something.
So there you have it, I am so deeply scarred, tainted and damaged by the demands and needs of dwarf dictators that I just can't possibly go through it again. Of course, I know I was NEVER a child, a brat, a baby, I have always been as I am now - PERFECT.
And just to prove I am not alone in my short people predjudice i found these little poems in "The book of nonsense" (one of my favourite educational books).
Billy in one of his nice new sashes
Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes
Now, although the room grows chilly
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy
And my other favourite
Father heard his children scream
So he threw them in the stream
Saying as he drowned the third
"Children should be seen, NOT heard"!
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