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YAY! Iran is officially a member of the Nuclear Club. I'm sure they're eagerly awaiting their t-shirt and mousepad.
MEMBERSHIP DOES COME WITH BENEFITS.
Lord. Can you believe a bunch of dudes just a few years older than me are in charge of things like atomic weapons?
Boggles THE MIND.
Nevertheless, life goes on. And in the face of Jihad, I still have to deal with more important issues. For example, my self-esteem. Stay with me. Here, let me ask you a question.
You ever keep visiting a blog just to see if the latest post has more comments than your own latest post? And take it a step further by going through his comments to subtract from the total number any comments that the blogger himself added?
Yeah, me neither. That would be sick.
I'd like to think the taxpayer dollars saved by not having been institutionalized is my own personal contribution to the war on terror.
* * *
Okay, since parenting bloggers seem to get the most traffic these days, let me broach the subject of food choice. When I was a kid, my stepdad (who would force me to eat mica in the name of all those starving kids in 3rd world panAmerica) always told a story about how he would never eat pineapple, ‘cause once he ate an ENTIRE PINEAPPLE POINTY SPIKES AND ALL and vomited for 7 days straight. And just as soon as us stepkids were like, ‘Yeah, we hear you, dude. Some foods you just can’t stomach,’ HE WOULD FORCE US TO EAT ALL MANNER OF NASTINESS.
Serious. Brag about how it’s okay to shun certain foodstuffs you don’t like, then jam ONIONS AND GREEN PEPPERS DOWN THE THROATS OF THE STEPCHILDREN WHOSE PUPPY YOU KILLED BECAUSE OF THE $10 EXTRA YOU’D HAVE TO PAY TOWARDS YOUR SHITTY SECURITY DEPOSIT.
/cue the ducks
1985
Me: What’s for dinner?
STEPPARENT: STUFFED PEPPERS.
Me, shrunken to 1/8 my normal size: Ugh. Stuffed with what?
STEPPARENT: ONIONS.
Me: Therapy.
No wonder we bomb each other.
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