…And thinks everyone else in the fucking world has to agree. I get it you have managed to engage in the most basic act that any living thing on the planet can engage in (sex) and have decided, to reproduce an off-spring, so you think you have accomplished something. You haven’t.
Now maybe I don’t get it because I haven’t be put through the pregnancy, labor and daily duties of raising a living thing with part of my DNA, but I can’t for the life of me understand what’s running through the child-struck heads of most parents. Do you really believe me when I agree that the picture of your child covered from head to toe in only God knows what is cute? Do you derive a certain pleasure from forcing me, by social rules, to valid you and your spouse’s assertion that your 3 year old’s ability to butcher “Let It Go” from Frozen is worthy of a fucking Grammy? You do? Well, this is why I hate you.
For thousands of years people could socially give less than a quarter of a fuck about other people’s offspring and it was considered okay. You weren’t forced to constantly lavish admiration and attention on a child that had a low chance of survival anyway. One would think that because your kids could have died from the unsanitary conditions people of the past were forced to live in, that would have been the time to act like stinky baby shit didn’t smell, but it wasn’t.
However, it seems that the advances in technology and ability to carry your little forever moist child’s 500 pictures around with you daily means that you can now abuse and harass the rest of us with pictures and videos of it.
Well I’m here to tell you that I’m sick of it. I do not want to watch videos of your children doing some below average dance. They can’t even get the simple steps right. Do not show me a picture that it scribbled colored outside the lines and with the wrong shades. It is not miraculous that it is able to take macaroni and glue and dump it all on a piece of paper and leave it alone long enough to dry into a shapeless mess. Contrary to what you might believe, I do not think your child is the most amazing thing to grace my presence. Despite what you might think, just because I’m standing near you in line at the grocery store looking at a parenting magazine to past the time, it does not give an opening to ask me if I have kids just so that you can pull out your cellphone and tell me all about yours.
I don’t care.
I find it annoying.
And I wish you would royally fuck off.
Fuck off back to the Mommy and me classes where every other broad thinks her weird looking child is beautiful. Fuck off back to the parks for kids where everyone acts like their child’s ability to sit upright and be pushed on a swing by their parent is an achievement. Fuck off back to whatever hole you pushed that stroller out of.
If someone asks to see pictures of your children, then you show them. If someone happens to think your child is beautiful then take the compliments when given and sit your punk ass down. While you might have an urge to whip out that cellphone in every long elevator ride, waiting room, or line, you need to learn to control it. Put a lid on it.
You know, I may not yet have children, but I vow to never be a parent like this. Why on Earth would I have any expectation of other people to like my children? Why would I get off on coerced compliments when I know the person doesn’t actually mean it? What kinds of pleasure would I get out of wasting someone’s time when I can clearly see their eyes glazing over after the 30th picture of my child’s birthday party?
I don’t get it. I’d love for assholes who do this to explain it to me, but something tells me they’d just get offended and walk off in a huff to take yet another ego affirming picture of that child. I swear, some people just want to see the world burn.
–Quinny
People I Fucking Hate 