Posts tagged ‘fat’

Mommy blogs!

Or joint parent blogs.

I have never indulged in the activity of reading these insipid, driveling wastes of insignificantly minute storage space on the net.
First off, I’m not the target audience – a mom, and secondly these blogs almost never have any value.

You’re not gaining some new insight on how to “parent”, that you didn’t get from being one, or having one. There is not enough substance to these vapid excuses of brain leakage, that would permit wasting time on reading them. Or just one.
Same goes for 99% of these so called “parenting magazines”, with articles so empty you are left to wonder why these sniffling shits aren’t writing speeches for politicians.
If it weren’t for product testing – including lab tests for hazardous materials – these magazines would be worth less than ink and paper, separately, used to make this glossy kindling.
I digress.

Mommy (b)logs are used by the mommy bloggers to make the simplest most mundane task look like a deed more heroic than the deeds of all Marvel and DC superheroes combined.
Mommy dearest breastfeeds her baby despite it being four and will continue to do so, until the kid enrolls in college. She carries the child in a sling, although her shoulders are bleeding, claiming “her indigo crystal child needs the intimacy, closeness and prolonged bonding,” although the brat is clearly old enough to fracking walk, or even go on prolonged hikes.
Great job.

Vegan, gluten-, lactose-, sugar-, and fat-free is an added “burden”, because it creates a (selfimposed) martyrdom to raise a child this way, with relatives and friends and doctors(!) telling them that it is absolute BS.

Adding to that, they hallow their “parenting” (and thus themselves) even more, if they are absolute nutjobs who think science and medicine are evil and thus they raise desease ridden, virii spreading little snotballs who run from vaccines and pills like they stole something.
But hey, they raise kids who are “all natural”. (Despite humans being omnivores, not herbivores, and our very existence outside of Africa is unnatural, but that’s not the issue here.)

That’s another staple of mommy bloggers.
The absolute glorification of the natural, and nature, ignoring the cold, logical, harsh and mindblowing truth that EVERYTHING is perfectly natural, unless some shit comes oozing into this universe through some rift in the space-time continuum.

But these narcissistic, ego driven, professional parents and breeders probably have lactated away all the brain cells necessary for rational and coherent thought, thats why all these blogs (or magazines) are shallow, pitifully dumb, meaningless drivel. People who read or write mommy blogs are people who have picture frames with the words “Friends”, “Family” and especially “Selfies” at home. For this is just another of the “Give me attention, because I am” cases, like the Selfie-people .

If you ever happen to strand on a Mommyblog, take it for what it is, snot. If you stare at the screen for too long thinking that a deeper meaning would peel out of this mindless conglomeration of letters and words, your eyes will roll back in your skull and they will find you, once your bills go unpaid, as a half rotten corpse in front of a computer that burned down in self pity.

Take care, and don’t read mommy blogs, they are an insult on the very words making them up (“mommy” and “blog”), as sell as an insult to anyone thinking.
A.

Easter presents…

image

This easter rabbit can count the eggs hidden behind the house, sitting on the front porch.

Now take this trashbag, and haul this year’s sodded easter crap off…

Fiendish Easter I
Fiendish Easter II
Fiendish Easter III
Fiendish Easter IV
Fiendish Easter V

Yes, yes this was the index for this year’s Easter.
A.

Cabin of Death returns…

So, before I start, let me give you a tour of the elevators I am frequenting.

The elevator at home is a cabinet the size of 1 meter times half a meter. The sign says “4 Persons”…what kind of persons? Anorexic teenagers lifted from a mental facility?
Once we tried. From 6th floor to ground floor. After two seconds we gasped for air, as the oxygen was gone withing that time, after another two seconds we were gasping for more air, as the elevator had gotten stuck.
But it is supposed to be able to lift “320 kp”.
What unit is “kp”? The opfficial weight meassure in my country is “KILOGRAMs” or “kg”. So what is “kp”? Kilo pound? That would make it 320,000 pounds. You can’t get to that number if you take four super fat americans who drink their coffee with extra added fat-milk!
So what is 320 kp meant to be?

Carrying on, the cabin of death at my work place is supposed to handle 10 people, or 1000 kilograms. Now, this is more reealistic. 100kg per person, times ten is 1000 kg. Plus it’s an actual weight unit.
We once got in six of us. And we’re not the american super weight people who are fatter than the fattest man alive from the 1950’s. Normal people, ranging between 60 and 100 kg. Mind you, we were six!
Immediately the alarm went off: BEEEEEP! and the red light lit up telling us that we were too heavy.

How do they come up with these arbitrary numbers of people allowed in the elevator anyways? I imagine they stuffed ten plastic mannequins in there, two rows of three, two piled up sideways between the rows and another two stuffed overhead. Then the engineers looked at each other and nodded, saying “ten?”
“Yes, ten.”

So, recently I got into one of the elevators at work, the doors closed, and – if you’re like me you have something in your hand. Cellphone, tablet, book, magazine, newspaper, anything to occupy your mind. – after a while you turn, like the good programmed little drones we are, and then it hits you! The bloody thing hasn’t moved a millimeter!
Frantically you start hitting all the buttons, door open, door close, all the floors, close to pressing the alarm button suddenly the door pops open on the floor you entered and you jump out!
Weird thing is, after this the elevator goes where it is supposed to. Not that I have ridden it out, I’m not going near the damn thing anymore.
Only recently I had waited for a bloke who had entered the thing before me, while holding the door of the other elevator. He came out, relieved to be free again, and thanked me for waiting.

So, the Cabin of Death strikes again. Repeatedly, all the while I hear people tell stories how they got trapped.

Take the stairs, people,
A.