1. The Passive-Aggressive Poster. This may be the person I want to punch in the throat more than any other person on social media. If you have a problem with someone, tell them. Don’t post vague, whiny “You know who you are and you know what you did and I can’t believe you did that to me. Ugh. Some people will never learn!” Sweetheart, I am putting you, the passive-aggressive poster, on notice that all of your network gives zero shits about your vague angsty 90210 type drama. In fact, scrolling on by right now.
2. The One-Upper (aka, the Know It All). “I am so sick. I think I have Ebola.” I’m sure you’ve seen someone post this somewhere in the past month and you rolled your eyes. But you’ve probably also seen something in the comments of that same post that made you roll your eyes even more. For example, “I know, right?!? I remember this one time my parents took me on an African Safari and even though I was vaccinated for malaria, I got bit by a mosquito and the tribal doctor in the village we stayed in after our tour group was ravaged by a pack of gazelles told my parents I might have Diphtheria AND Malaria. OMG! So scary, right? I’m sure you’re fine, though. Let me know if you need anything! We’ve all been there!” Or something like that. You get my drift, right?
3. Woe Is Me Joe. This person is a country song waiting to be written. “I lost my wife, my kids, my job, and I am pretty sure I have cancer. Why can’t anything ever go my way?” Ok. Ick. If you feel the need to post this all over social media, then maybe you should seek out a therapist. They could teach you that chronic over sharing and pity parties lead to low self-esteem, which leads to wife loss.
4. Super Soccer Mom. This woman makes me tired. She’s the one who has Billy and Jane in every activity under the sun, which isn’t surprising, because she coaches them all, chairs the PTA, is room mom for both kids’ classes, has a full time job, AND builds houses for Habitat For Humanity in her spare time. This bitch has to go. I barely have time to flat iron my hair and she makes me look bad. Or realistically, she’s crazy and overcompensating for something.
5. Drama Mama. She may appear to be the wife of “Woe Is Me, Joe,” but she’s not. She’s so. Much. Worse. Drama Mama is that mommy dearest that cannot believe that anyone would have the audacity to question her parenting skills, because Mommy Knows Best for little Sally and the world be damned if they question her. “Oh! So at dance rehearsal, some b!t@h had the nerve to ask me why I put full make-up on Sally for rehearsals! Like she doesn’t know that there are scouts here looking for the next little Miss Corn Field. Huff!” Just step away from the hole. Do not comment. Do not favorite, like, star, retweet, or share this post. Trust me. You’ll thank me later.
6. Chicken Little. The sky is falling! The sky is falling! You know this guy (or girl), don’t you? S/he is the one who takes everything they read on far left or far right media outlets, some of which even state on their website home pages that they’re fake, and repost them on FB, decrying the downfall of America. For the love of all things holy, use Snopes, people! Just because you read it on the internet doesn’t make it true. And that’s a direct quote from Thomas Jefferson. I saw that on the Internet.
7. The Work Out Machine. We’ve all seen this person posting about their latest meal, workout, decathlon, whatever. And that’s all they post about. Not only do they make me feel bad while I am sitting there drinking my coffee and eating my doughnut, but their constant “I’m running in place while steaming broccoli and growing my own okra” rants make me want to wing a cupcake at their head. Don’t get me wrong. Good for you for channeling your inner Richard Simmons, but save that stuff for your closed fitness groups.
8. The Chronic Defriender. This one may be the most annoying of all social media contract violators. These are the people who get all butthurt when you post something that they assume is about them (these people often cross over to the Passive Agressive Poster) and defriend you without inquiring about the root of the alleged offending post. Before you even notice they have defriended you, they’ve sent you another friend request, claiming that they “accidentally” defriended you. Fast forward three months and butt hurt Billy has done it again, this time because you dared disparage his favorite fantasy football player on a Sunday afternoon. Do your sanity a favor and don’t accept that friend request after the third accidental defriending. Just don’t.
9. The Compliment Troller. Ahhhhh…. This person is craving attention like no other. “Apparently I look out of place at ‘Hustler.’ Employees keep asking me if I need assistance. ” Or, the always awkward, “Why can I find a boyfriend? I’m tall, have big boobs, have a full time job, and can cook. Why am I still single???” I’ll give you a clue, honey. Read that last post you made and stop it.
10. The Ebola Nazi. This person right here wins the internet this week for the most annoying person, ever. Sure, Ebola is here. And it’s about as likely that you’ll get that as it is that you will get herpes by standing close to someone who sneezes and happened to have chicken pox twenty years ago. Ok, maybe a little more likely than that, but not by much. If you get nothing else from this list, take away this factoid: You are about as likely to get Ebola from reading this post as you are going out into the general public. Put away your Hazmat suit and go defriend me right now because I probably offended you with this list. And PS, I already had Ebola so you don’t scare me.*
So, it happened. Slim turned eight this week, even though autocorrect wants to say she turned “right.” Well, she’s that, too. Just ask her. But she is also awesome. And sometimes a bit trying on the patience. But mostly, she’s awesome. Do you want to know why?
1.) As long as I am comfortable with who I am, it doesn’t matter whether anyone else is. You see, my daughter has this amazing ability to put together some outfits. I mean, she has come out of her room wearing neon polka dotted leggings, a pastel striped t-shirt, and a black and silver sequined miniskirt, oh, and flip flops, to wear to school. And that is just one of many crazy outfits she has assembled in the past five years.
One time, I tried to make her wear something cute that “matched.” That attempt was met with the wailing and gnashing of teeth that only a parent who has made this mistake before will understand. Epic meltdown. Epic.
I discovered that really, even if she looks like Punky Brewster on crack, as long as she is comfortable with herself, she is happy. If I try to force her into my Gymboree cookie cutter mindset, she looks like an angry little red-faced man. Nobody likes to see angry little red-faced man.
We could all learn a thing or two about being comfortable with ourselves and not giving a flying fuck what the rest of the world thinks of how we look or are “supposed” to look.
2. Life is like a box of chocolates.And by that I mean, if you want to eat the whole damn box in one sitting, go for it. And it’s also ok to poke holes in the middle of them to make sure it isn’t one of those nasty licorice jelly things that some sadist puts in the box for filler because, fuck you if you thought you were getting a marshmallow stuffed piece of chocolatey goodness. Life is short. Don’t get stuck with nasty licorice tasting chocolate in your mouth.
3. Sometimes it’s more important to spend time with family than to spend money on them. Unless said family member wants to go to the American Girl Doll store for their birthday. Have mercy on the parent who does not want to wait in line two hours to get Felicity’s hair styled at the American Girl salon. Otherwise, family game night trumps a shopping trip to Target. And so now, every week, we have family night and eat pizza on the living room floor while I get my butt kicked at Monopoly Jr.
4. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Or in kid speak, don’t freak the fuck out when your child gets a little scratch or bump. Why? Because then THEY will freak the fuck out over every little scratch, causing you to call them a drama queen, and causing them to get very crazy little red-faced man angry with you, even though they have no idea what “drama queen” means.
5. Do not, I repeat, do not cuss in front of a three year old. Unless you want them to repeat it at every social gathering or preschool program you ever go to. I have found that while “douchefaced assjacker” is ok if yelled at the moron who almost broadsides you while they were texting, same said phrase is not cool to say in front of the kids. Not because they don’t understand that they aren’t allowed to say “adult” words, but because it just is fun to say.
6. Farts are always funny. And let’s face it, after you’ve had kids, bodily functions are not so controllable. So let’s go ahead and laugh at them, anyhow, because it’s not like we can control when they pop out.
7. It’s ok to be angry and upset. When I was little, my parents used to punish us when we were grumpy or having a bad day because we weren’t being polite. Well, you know what? Everyone has shitty days, even our kids. Whether it’s because you got yelled at by your boss because you showed up to work 15 minutes late or mom said you can’t watch “Pitch Perfect” with the rest of your seven year old friends because mom doesn’t think it’s age appropriate (even though all of your other friends are allowed to watch it), you are allowed to be unhappy about it. Just don’t be a dick. Being a dick is bad. Being upset is part of life.
8. You can not like something, but you need to try most things first before you turn your nose up at it. For instance, brussel sprouts. Not, for instance, bungee jumping, because really, proving to your recently divorced self that you are still young does not need to include hurling yourself off a bridge attached to a giant rubber band. Need I say more?
My girl has taught me so much more than this and I’m sure I could go on until you hate me because you no longer want to read this story, but you’re pot-committed, so I’ll stop here, for now. She has plenty more years of teaching me how to be a better person.
To all of you who are new to Down The Hole (which is everyone on the blog unless you hopped over from FaceFuck), WELCOME! It’s a crazy ass tea party with bourbon in teacups and we play well with all who are fun and willing to lighten the fuck up. To the dickshits who dare defy the rules of DTH, lemme introduce you to our philosophy….
If you’re going to take a trip down the hole (DTH), then you should be forewarned as to what awaits you down here, where we are most certainly all a little bit mad. But let’s face it, the best ones are. So, take heed:
1. If you are easily butt hurt, you won’t like me or my page and you can kindly go suck your thumb, call the whahhhhhhmbulance, and go the fuck away right now.
2. I say “fuck” a lot. So much so that my stupid smartphone now changes the word duck to fuck.
3. Here in the Hole, we have adopted the policy of ZFG. ZFG stands for Zero Fucks Given. We give no fucks for most things. Fucks are given for children, animals, and random other things we decide fucks should be given for.
4. I have a family of Mad Hatters (MH), of which you are now all a part of. But the ones that live with me are my favorites. Most of the time. There’s Slim Shady. She is not a rapper nor is she from 8 Mile. She is my eight-year old beautiful daughter who earned her nickname thanks to Granddaddy Hatter’s fascination with comparing her to a peanut M&M. (Get it – M&M = Eminem = Slim Shady). She is me in a much smaller form and without the potty mouth. Then there is my baby, Batboy, also known as “Stink” to his sister. He’s three years younger than his sis, but almost as big as her and he loves all of the superheroes, all of the time, but when I asked him what he wanted to be when he grows up, with no hesitation, he says, “Batman.” I’m good with that as long as I get to drive the Bat Pod.
5. Then there’s my husband, who is very hot, flies things with missiles and rockets and shit, and most importantly, puts up with my ass. I love him super hard. Unless he is being a crotchnugget, in which case I still love him hard, but may use my megaphone to express my love in alternate forms. I call him Ace or Top Gun, because, well, he’s the shit.
6. We give all kinds of fucks for animals. We have the bubs, Napster/Naps/Napoleon – he’s the little dictator, and Wucky (also known as Lucky Dog). They are so damn cute I don’t even care that they shit on my flip flops. We also have a pussy (which is different than a mimsy) with an attitude that loves to escape on the regular, and pretty soon, a pet skunk being trained to join the zoo. I am dead fucking serious. We used to have a goat, but she kept trying to get in the car and drive away so we sent her to a farm down south.
7. I’m a big fan of telling it like it is and could give two shits if you agree with me or not. If you want to be a twatlicking cunt monkey and whine and cry about the content of the page, walk away quickly because Hatters have no problem shipping you to the Queen of Hearts – and we all know what she likes to do to people who insult her.
To those of you that are still here, welcome to your trip Down The Hole… Enjoy it, bitches!