I was actually going to title this post “Come with me to happy island”. Then I realised I’m pissed off and I didn’t want the word “happy” in the title
My house is full of arse-hats today. They’re all annoying the shit out of me… bar the littlest ones. The little ones are a blessing of the non-hormonal variety still… The Sixth is in the clear too… for now…
The others though… I could’ve taken to them with a frying pan… or a saucepan this afternoon. I was completely not fussy… unfortunately, a) it’s against the law. And b) I would have had to get up and use the little energy I had left on the task.
Nobody took their happy pills this morning. Not that anybody in this house is medicated with happy pills. But frick me I wish they were today!
Now it may just be PMS exploding in mammoth proportions here… but I suspect the inhabitants of the teenage variety are just in arse-hat moods at the same time. School is back, assignments are coming thick and fast, none of them know what a nine o’clock bedtime is, and they are all finding it harder and harder to get up in the morning.
This afternoon they were all lucky I didn’t have a frying pan or saucepan in reach. That baby would have been used as a frizbee.
I’m a qualified Ninja, did you know that?
Yep, damn straight. I’ve had private training. Years of it. With specialist equipment designed by the greatest Ninja ever born.
His amazing teaching technique is second to none. The day a parent buys their very own specialist equipment designed as a childrens play thing, they are inducted into the hall of Ninja.
It’s only when your offspring – in my case today, arse-hats – reach teenagerhood can you claim to be a full blood Ninja. Full blood, because by the time they’re teenagers you have shed blood on Ninja Lego.
Anyway, so yes I am a Ninja, and my kids are being arse-hats.
I honestly could have done with a clone of myself this afternoon. Actually make that a few clones of myself. One dedicated to every member of the family so I wouldn’t have been having to deal with all the arse-hattedness by myself.
Tomorrow I am going to wake them all up ‘earthquake style’* because I can. And just maybe it’ll teach them to get up in better moods and not be arse-hats like they were today.
If that doesn’t work, I’m going to run away to a deserted island where everyone lives in euphoria.
*Earthquake style is a way I get my teenage kids up for school. I shake the bed while yelling “EARTHQUAKE!”. If they all set their alarms to get up for school, there would be no need for this special never-fail alarm system.