| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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When you walk in the front door of 42 you walk into the living room, and the kitchen is on the right. The front door is on the south side; on the side furthest from my bedroom window. That leaves at least one bedroom and a bathroom to the rear of the house, though I’ve never seen either. The property manager lives in 42. She is probably mid-twenties, fit, pretty and fairly dim. She is apt to wear a bikini top and little shorts that allow the well tanned slivers of her moon to see the light of day. Her husband is the half-assed handyman for the complex. When I look at the paint drips in my sink, the painted-over fixtures, or the sloppy concrete repair in the driveways I think of him. He has a voice like The Dude. They have three kids, four and under. K, a boy, is their eldest. I put him at four, though I judge the age of kids about as well as Gloria Steinam judges wet t-shirt contests. He has a tiny little bicycle that he pedals all around the complex. He walks and talks and picks on his sister, E. E I put at two and a half. I really should get one of my child-happy woman friends over here to really gauge their ages. E walks and kind of talks and rides an even tinier bicycle around the complex. Her bicycle has training wheels. Oh, and she screams. She screams all the time. The youngest is J. J doesn’t walk or talk. He gets pushed around in a stroller and he has a large head. I’d say abnormally large, but I haven’t really looked at that many baby heads. And hey, I had an abnormally large head when I was a baby. Every morning I wake to some sort of domestic fiasco. They generally start just before eight AM. One morning I heard the husband-half of a minor dispute that culminated in the man yelling back “I’m fucking changing a fucking diaper here” in his The Dude voice. Another morning I heard K’s frantic shushing as he tried to calm E’s full bore crying response to whatever diabolical evil K had just committed against E’s person. This morning’s players were K and his mom. Mom was going on and on about pee all over the toilet. About how K needs to pee when he first realizes he has to go instead of waiting until the very last minute. The next time you pee in your pants you are going to get spanked. Stop laughing K, this isn’t funny. I’m serious, if you pee in your pants you’re getting a spanking. Stop laughing K or you’re getting a spanking. Fucking K, he can’t do anything right. He’s always touching things he shouldn’t be touching (K DON’T TOUCH THAT) or going places he’s not supposed to go (K GET BACK HERE.) Some mornings I wonder how these two fit into the range of parenting quality. Are they below average? I know they aren’t anywhere near as horrible as my last neighbors. Most mornings I thank god for condoms. |
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you have, of course, seen this, right? |
I think that was Christopher! |
Nate, good luck with the new neighbors. |
One particular example of this is Monty. How to explain Monty, is a difficult chore so I will do the best I can. Monty is about 6'4", about 400lbs, and smells, a lot. Monty is a gambler, and not in your traditional Kenny Rogers way, no he's more your addicted to the machine type. Its like a respirator for him, really sad too. On average Monty will drop about 6-7 hundred dollars a day on the machines. And usually walk away that much in the hole if not more. He has a brother too, Lori, his brother is him. Except shorter, and smells more. You'd think for people who spend so much gambling and get to drink for free they'd drink the good beer.... No, not these too, they drink Olympia. Tonight, I'll see if I can get a picture of Monty, and have TBone host it for me. So you can truly understand who I'm talking about. Aside from that, Monty actually has a wife, and let alone a wife, he actually produced a child. I pray that the child dies in its sleep every time I see the man. God forbid I ever have a child like that, I fear being my father to whatever children I would like to end up with in the future. But the problem becomes, my father did a good job. And as much as I hated it growing up, I understand it now. So I live with this question of where is the line of.... "SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LITTLE ASS COB." and "Calm down little one." |
Sometimes I wonder if I'm a horrible parent. At least I love my kid. |
For the record, i got my conservatism from my father and his family. My mom, well, I told you about my mom before. I have trouble becaue I am afraid I will be like mom, but at the same time, I cannot let my kids walk all over me because of it. Nate, your neighbours sound pretty much average. I love the ones who say "you do that again, and I am going to spank" over and over and over again. One thing kids pick up on is do you keep your word? Do you give the rewards you promise, AND deliver the threats you handed out? |
the thought of 3 gives me the shivers |
No way. If I get pregnant anytime in the current forseeable future I will immediately make an appointment for an abortion. I'd probably make a horrible mom. |
or you might not, liberated woman. |
"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free!" He lifts his lamp inside the golden door. |
not that i think you should be freaked out whenever someone lifts his lamp inside your golden door. just be careful in judgements of spirit where arrogance of self might be involved. which i say not as a judgement of you, because i have no basis from which any such judgement would rise. much less, any desire to judge you. all i know is where i've stumbled in the past. |
and Hal. just about every thread you evoke some sort of violent thought, whether literal or not. and you say you're not volatile. pshaw you! |
I said I'm not violent, which I'm not. That doesn't mean I'm not volatile. |
you did. shall i go quote you. "im not volatile" |
Fine, whatever, I'm volatile, non violent, and frankly I'm begining to care less and less. Fucking AssBurgers. |
I got backup chump. |
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i don't know. contextually hillarious? |
ironic? my friend got the shirt it recently on his cross country drive. spider. her cheeks rule you cant stop kissing them. |
gawd, that *ALMOST* makes me want another baby. Thank god that is impossible. |
I am going to have to send out some officical "Texas" touristy clothes for her just cuz I can......though they are all freakisly hillarious. |
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since it seems important to point that out. fuckers. i just thought it was particularly good. |
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is there something other than the obvious? i DO overthink things...so you know....maybe this is one of those times. but other than the kitche value a baby wearing such a silly shirt and the fact that her parents are so anti-Bush and all am I missing something? |
my conversation about volatility with hal and the fact that this thread was started under the guise of birth control... theres something in there somewhere. |
. . ...right? |
further, i no longer have any idea what anyone is talking about. |
. . Who's next? |
I do not think of abortion so simply as that. It's a last resort, really. A hundred years ago, early pregnancy was spoken of as blocked menses. Here's two reasons why I do not take it so lightly: (1) It's expensive. (2) It may very well leave emotional scars. I am careful. Mostly I sleep alone anyhow, I prefer it that way because if I can't even stand to talk to a person then why on earth would I want them touching my body? Eva in that shirt is adorable. There's no other word for it. |
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He called me a grue. I love you to eri. |
Now I want one. |
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obviously he's caught on at least twice in the past. |
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I just finished drinking with the boyfriend of my friend that has my name and looks like me but is not the same person. That doesn't make much sense but he was very nice and walke me home when everyone else fell asleep which is sad because one of them it seems is me except he is a boy. Because he wears orange shirts, sings 99 Luftballoons, has horns, carries a sketchbook everywhere and is named Benjamin. My name that I decided two years ago that if I were boy I'd be Benjamin so it feels like this boy is my secret twin and we should be best friends. He doesn't know that and so it is sad. Does that make sense? |
but I am going on 4 hours of sleep, so that might explain it. :) |
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didnt you learn anything hal? |
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Just Ed. |
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You could get a third and name them Rock, Paper and Scissors. I once read of a woman who had two Siamese cats. The male was named Hey, You! and the female Who, Me?. |
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