Friday, September 14, 2012

Next Year I'm Calling in Sick

Just attended the 16th or so school curriculum night and, for the 16th or so time, I've come home with the same realization -- I hate all parents.

I hate the parent who asks moronic questions like, "Yes, I'd like to know what books you'll be reading this year?" Look you fucking assbag, every question you could possibly cook up in that bloated moose-head of yours is answered in the 900 page handout the teacher just passed around. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up so I can get the fuck out of here!

I hate the parent who knows all the teachers because she has older kids and has to point that fact out to all of us. "Hi, Sue. I know when Caitlin was in your class, you took a field trip to the Detroit Art museum. Will you be doing that again this year?" You know what? The teacher hated Caitlin almost as much as she's going to hate your little Taylor this year. And you know what else? She hates you, too. She hates you when you stop her in the grocery store to talk about Caitlin's freshman year at Moron State and she hates you when you stop her at the tennis club to see if Taylor can do some extra credit to get her grade up. No one cares that you know the fucking teacher. Your kids are idiots. Sit down.

I hate the parent of the kid who has been a complete fucking douche-hose to my kid for the last six years. Your kid's a dick. Literally everyone knows it. You're a shitty parent who is oblivious to the fact that your child is a sociopath who will, most likely, murder you with one of the many hunting rifles you keep in the unlocked cabinet in the garage. How can you not notice that your child is fucked up? He's in sixth grade and he has a full beard. His eyebrows are permanently in the "angry" position. I'm scared of him and he's 10 years old.

I hate the parent whose phone goes off in the middle of the classroom (ringtone: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" MIDI version) and they answer it. "Hello? Huh? Oh, hey. No, I'm at curriculum night. Yeah... uh huh. Well, get the plunger and fix it. It's in the garage. Huh? Then get the mop. Look... I gotta go." Oh, and nine times out of ten, this parent smells like they bathed in a mildew-caked tub filled with mothballs, asparagus pee and Pall Malls.

I really hate the parent who takes their five kids along with them to curriculum night, even though they got about 50 emails and flyers saying, "This night is for PARENTS ONLY." (I may just hate this parent most of all.)

I hate the parent who lives on the "fancy" side of town and has a pool. You know what? You'll never come close to getting back what you paid for that McMonstrosity, so fuck you and your pool. And Miss O says your daughter's a dick.

I hate the parent who I've met, like, ten times and who never remembers me. Look, I never even wanted to meet you in the first place but at least I have the common courtesy to remember you and acknowledge your presence, you selfish fucker.

And I hate all the other parents.