A Message to Parents
I. Hate. You.
It was Parent's Night and you all can suck my proverbial dick. Suck it! You are LUCKY that I can't find another way to spend my time than with your sweat-pant-wearing, non-sequitor-shouting, animae-obsessed, piss-smelling, cave-troll children.
I don't fucking want to listen to every orchestral overture in Deep Space Nine. I don't fucking want to talk about the plot holes and typos in the Harry Potter books. I don't fucking want to play Magic: The Gathering and I don't give a SHIT about your Sims family!
I don't care what your kid's issues are. For fuck's sake, I don't care about his personal habits: Gordon must always write on the reverse side of the goddamn binder paper. Shelly has to eat four goddamn carrotsticks at three minute intervals from 10:12 to 10:36 every afternoon. Sam has to take off every goddamn stitch of clothing before he sits down on the goddamn toilet.
How do you fucking know?!?!? When did you sit down with fucking logic and assume that nuerotic, obsessive insanity passes as an accomodatable mannerism?!?
I hate you. I hate you. YOU did this to me.
Eat your children. Please.
Eat your children. Please."Ms. Lane, I can not write with this pen. You see, I prefer a purple-black and this is a blue-black. Unacceptable. This math with have to wait."
They are that gifted and arrogant (and not in the sexy Jerk way, but in that 'my incubator was cast in platinum and studded with diamonds' sort of way); they use words like, 'quandry' and 'bourgeoise'. They eat fucking edamame with EVERYTHING.
I have spent many moments thinking about which objects in my classroom would be most efficient for a good smack-in-the-mouth. I'm between the telephone and the industrial-size hole punch right now. The hole punch has heft, but it's bulky to manuever. Better for use on a larger, slower, yet equally fucking irritating individual. Someone like...YOU.
I hate you.
I will make your children pay tomorrow. Just you wait. Especially the guy that stopped me in the parking lot. You know who you are...I'm planning on fucking up your kid so badly tomorrow that you can just go ahead and up the dosage now.
posted by macaroon at 11:02 PM
5 Comments:
I like the picture.
Edamame?
What kid eats that crap?
Quandry?
I'm at a quandry as to why a kid would say "quandry".
Don't take it out on the poor kiddles, it's not their fault they have suckass parents (and I use that term LOOSELY).
If you must, I suggest you go with the phone. It's easier to hit the "sweet spot" with it. Pow, right in the kisser.
Yeah, the phone was meant for holding, right? It is th eperfect weapon!!
I am taking your words to heart, and I promise I won't be one of THOSE parents. My kid is 2, so I have some time to train him up proper!!
now, yer the kinda teacher i wish had put a stop to all my bs when i was a kid...lol if i hadda teacher like you i mighta turned out a tad bit better than what my parents did to me.
HUGS
randi
HL...thanks. Me too. Grin.
Jerk, sigh. If I could just have them lie underneath my car, I would be a much more easy-going person. I think you and r are right...phone it is!
And good to know that parents out there are hearing this. I most likely would have just given you a complex, randi. Though, you know...wonder if I would have recognized a fellow kinkster...I haven't so far. Makes me think that that's more hidden than I always suspected.
Chanks for the apple, Mistress! :D
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