Friday, March 9, 2012
I'm so not a proud parent.
Symon will not be nominated for any high school awards--you know the ones that make the non-athletic children feel as though they have some valuable talent making them special too. I should know. I received my high school letter jacket because I made The Honor Society. Mom was so proud. Pop preferred that I know how to throw a football instead of solve a Rubik's Cube. That varsity letter wasn't quite the pussy magnet it was on running backs, who are now collecting shopping carts in mall parking lots.
What shall I place on my bumper? "My sons are pussies," perhaps.
Syd has achieved nothing beyond figuring out how to crawl under my covers and mess my freshly made bed. He also knows how to trip his brother and bite his neck--not praise-worthy. He doesn't make any human-like faces I can caption in a meme and my Photoshop skills aren't sufficient. I can't even brag about his choice to take on a drug-free lifestyle because he constantly gets stoned on catnip and chases ghosts.
Perhaps I can brag about my wonderful worm, Willy. He has a knack for causing oxytocin leaks, but that's typical of his breed. He's not athletic. I tried playing pool with him, using him as a peg for doughnut ring-toss, and introducing him to hands-free Jenga. He sucked at all three. Willy isn't artistic either. He can't draw on much other than toilet rims. He's not very smart, as he's taken me into some dark places that weren't easy to find my way out of. I'd say he's a little prick. Don't get me wrong; I still love that fucker.
Nothing to brag about here. I can't even find suitable decals for my Jeep's rear window. I thought it would be cute to stick a pair of paw prints and an anaconda there. The minivan mommies would probably misunderstand my decal, though, as some anti-Christian walking snake thing. It's unfortunate that I can't be a proud parent. Maybe I should have a political agenda I can rudely display on my vehicle in an attempt to sway voters:
They're always running.