WordPressident #12

Waves crash into hourglass
Life’s a beach with sand between your toes you harp
Or life’s a bitch when you step on something sharp

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Ferris wheel lights when dad carrying you on his shoulders still doesn’t meet the required height

Scoop of ice cream falling out the cone in slow motion, splat

Because my baby thought it was a upside-down head wearing a birthday hat

A child’s melting ice cream makes up the white lines in the street

Her ice cream cone the traffic cone

I kneel for my young and tell her the streets were paved with the heart of gold

To pick up the pieces I hustle man

Move my feet to the saxophone with the kazoo stuck to it

Kick a bar of gold to Kimchi

“Daddy, why did the free-range chicken cross the road?”

Why?

“To get to the other sides.”

I guess you didn’t like daddy’s raggedy ass peas?

“Everything else was hitting.”

Pass the peas like we use to do.

“Did you say pass the peas like you use to do?”

I say pass the peas like we use to do.

“Whoa! Pass the peas like we use to do!”

Pinched between my thumb and my index, I grabbed the pea from the microwave and passed it to the doctor at the head of the table. Bowed mines, said grace, “God please don’t let him ask for the deviled egg too.”

Ehh, what’s up doc’?

“Honey bunny, you know it’s bad table manners to talk with food in your mouth.”

I spit the carrot pieces in her hand

“Mr. Bunny, I’m sorry, forgive me for not having a petite appetite, but if I don’t take this off your plate I take off my white coat and throw it over your body.”

My boo caught the Holy Ghost just from hearing that

“Baby, we already made our Miracle On 34th Street and she need you present in her life. I’ll support you if you get sacked from your job for needing more than 2 weeks. I don’t like football no way and the effects of being sacked. What you have in the sac won’t affect what we have in the sack.”

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Then I woke up.

My Child’s Imaginary Friend Killed Him

I had egg on my face when I saw his Heimlich maneuver costume. I was so embarrassed to fill his Halloween bucket with tears instead of Cry Baby bubblegum. The hugging from behind reminded me of my son the most. Him running off in public and me having to chase after him and pick him up so he won’t do it again. Him getting affectionately squeezed when he answered correctly to the ‘Guess Who’ game despite my pathetic efforts of disguising my voice. Wait! The dangling legs reminded me of my son the most. Him on his Spider-Man potty seat on the toilet. Him having them between the bars of the baby crib. Him bouncing around in his chair while I’m trying to get him to eat his food separately instead of as a KFC Famous Bowl.

Now here I am sitting on the dock of the bay, feet not touching the water, thinking how those abdominal thrusts only made the situation worse. What was I suppose to do, watch my child grasp for air until the pair of medics arrived? Notice I said a pair of medics instead of paramedics; I had to call twice because the first ambulance must have stopped at one too many red-lights. Or were they traveling at such a high rate of speed the EMT’s crashed into another car that ejected them on top of a traffic light pole three-quarters of a mile? Pffft. I’m not waiting on someone who didn’t give birth to this child to come save him. This is my baby! When he didn’t expel whatever it was that was choking him I jumped in my Aston Martin over my other brand cars; I wanted to see what the wings in its logo was really about. When the doctor came back in the waiting room his body language said it all, “I’m sorry.” My body language replied, “Not as sorry as you will be if you don’t get back in there and save my baby.”

Next thing I remember is waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. I must have died and went to heaven for a few hours to play video games with my little man one last time. I say one last time because I’m going to hell for being a bad parent. All of this could have been prevented. I shouldn’t have homeschooled my son, sheltering him. I should’ve let him be around other kids. He would have made real friends and wouldn’t have felt the need to create an imaginary friend, who would eventually kill him. I guess I shouldn’t say imaginary when the doctor, the nurses, and I can see the friend resting on my son’s windpipe. 

Truth is, though, I always saw him. We called it Airhead. We gassed its friends if one got too sharp. If it could talk its voice would squeak like a gym shoe. Speaking of shoes, its knot helped my son learn how to tie his. He was smooth. Multiracial. Had a string for a neck. Liked to fly. Liked to party. Could mold into any animal, different sizes and shapes. And it’s this very quality that helped it to conform to my son’s trachea, blocking the airway and his ability to breathe.

That is why I put band aids on balloons.

 

You Don’t Perhaps Write The Headlines Of Yahoo Articles For A Living, Do Ya?

Who the hell adds up the ages of a group of people/things to make it sound more compelling? Utterly Ridiculous!

Little Boy Starts House Fire Rubbing Doritos Together

I put my Takis in the freezer

“I should have never read that stupid article,” said Ava McKenzie, as she was crying to news reporters watching firefighters spray water on her $75,000 Texas home that went up in flames because she encouraged her toddler son, Dillion McKenzie, to play with his food after reading it may help him learn.

This past December, mother McKenzie received an email alerting her of a new post from a parenting site she’s subscribed to. “I want a smart baby. So, I’m always looking for ways to impress on play dates. I saw this post about how Dillion is actually learning when he throws spaghetti sauce on the walls. I immediately ransacked the kitchen.” Mckenzie, who hasn’t gone grocery shopping in weeks was disappointed to only find junk in the ‘frig and cabinets. “We had nothing but chips and candy. So, I just gave him a couple of bags of Cool Ranch Doritos to play with.” McKenzie said she then got distracted by a phone call that made her take her eyes off Dillion for a “few” minutes. “Next thing I know I hear my baby screaming and I rushed back to the kitchen and see fire.” McKenzie managed to grab Dillion before he suffered any severe burns and tried to put out what started as a “modest” fire but flames spreaded to the other Doritos so rapidly it grew beyond control and she hightailed it out of there with a crying Dillion in her arms. From across the street, they watched in horror as their family home melted away.

Doritos and similar chips are cooked in vegetable oil and made mostly of Hydrocarbons and fat, which are both highly flammable.

The single mother of 1 blames two parties for her predicament: the reseachers at University of Iowa and Doritos.

“When it’s time for my baby to go to college, he can go to whatever school in the world he wants to go to … long as its not the University of Iowa or in the state of Iowa,” said McKenzie.

Pressured by consumers on social media that they should do something and the fact they have rewarded those in the past, Doritos issued McKenzie and family a special card that entitles her to a lifetime supply of BAKED Doritos. “What the hell me and my son suppose to do with this s**t?! Build a house of chips?! We need a muthaf**king place to stay!”

Built on top of:
• A Tweet

Should the college and Doritos do something for them?

Lil’ Kim Plastic Surgeon Wants To Deliver Baby

Chelsea Lauren/Getty Images

Grammy-award winning rapper Lil’ Kim modeled a baby bump in her sparkly skin-tight dress during Mac Cosmetics and The Blonds Fashion Week after-party in New York City on February 12th.

“I’m so excited! I’m a few months along. I can’t wait to be a mom!” Lil’ Kim told US Weekly.

The congratulatory messages have been pouring in from celeb friends. Singer Tamar Braxton, who welcomed her first child, son Logan Herbert, tweeted, “Awwwww congrats @LilKim on your little one.”

Lil’ Kim’s best friend of 20 years, Jennifer Dalton (Real Housewives Of New Jersey), has been helping her with veggie pizza cravings, collect ideas for a “sick nursery,” and fluffing pillows to help her sleep comfortably. “All you see is Lil’ Kim in the fetal position with pillows everywhere. It’s very cute!”

Mr. Papers, the self-proclaimed baby-daddy revealed the gender of the baby to be a boy, something the 38 year old “Lighters Up” rapper wanted to save for a reality show in the works with VH1. “He gon’ be a gemini though, but I don’t wanna give you all the information, ya heard? He gon’ be a gemini.”

But the surprising helping hand that has everyone buzzing is from Dr. Garo Kassabian of Lift MD Aesthetics Beverly Hills, Lil’ Kim’s plastic surgeon for over an decade. The celebrity doctor said he wants to help deliver the baby. When asked why, he had the following to say:

I don’t want to actually deliver the baby. That’s not my practice. I just need to be there to calm her down when she sees the baby looks absolutely nothing like her. I don’t want her to drop the baby on its head screaming for a maternity test. My presence is just a friendly reminder of different face after different face after different face. You remember when she criticized Naturi Naughton for being too ‘dark-skin’ to portray her in the Biggie movie? Well what kind of whining you think she gone do when she sees the REAL Lil’ Kim again? She gone be crying louder than that baby!

Built on top of:
•Vlad TV comment

Do you think he is the right choice to deliver the baby?

Where Do Babies Come From?

Based on a future story

 

Lyric – Daddee, will I be tall like you and mommee?
Harnew – Yeah, when *censored* comes. You know what that is?
Lyric – My birthdayyyyy!
Harnew – You so smart!
Lyric – But I don’t wanna be tall. *pouts*
Harnew – Why?
Lyric – Cause when I get big you and mommee won’t pick me up no more. I don’t like walking.
Harnew – Haha. You gotta pick us up then.
Lyric – Daddee, why that man talk funny?
Harnew – We speak English. He’s speaking Spanish. One day you will learn how to speak another language too and talk funny.
Lyric – Daddee, why we don’t have 2 mouths? We 2 ears.
Harnew – Because you are suppose to listen twice as much as you talk.
Lyric – Daddee, why is water wet?
Harnew – *secretly checks Google* Uhhh … so we can swim in it. Don’t you like going swimming?
Lyric – Yayyyy!

Next day …

Harnew – You’re awfully quiet back there, sweetie. You okay?
Lyric – I don’t want make you mad.
Harnew – Make me mad? How you gone make me mad?
Lyric – I don’t wanna ask lot of questions.
Harnew – Aww! Why not, princess?
Lyric – Cause you gone get mad at me and spank me. It hurt.
Harnew – That’s mean! Why you say that???
Lyric – When I was over Lia’s house, her mommee got mad at her for asking lot of questions.
Harnew – Aww! I’m sorry to hear that. But Lyric, honey, you and Lia don’t have the same mom. *Censored* is your mom and I’m your dad.
Lyric – O-tay.
Harnew – Remember what daddy told you yesterday about why you have 2 ears and 1 mouth?
Lyric – Bee … cause you suppose to listen twice as much as you talk? Am I right?
Harnew – That’s right, princess. Now I want you to listen to daddy carefully, okay?
Lyric – O-tay.
Harnew – You’re 4 years old and kids your age like to ask a lot of questions because learning is fun and they want to know more about the world we’re living in. You have a very curious nature I want you to keep. When people get tall, they ask less questions and make more statements because they think they know it all. Learning has gotten boring to them. I don’t want you and your baby brother to get like that when you get tall like mommy and daddee. I want you to have a questioning attitude in life, a habit of demanding and weighing evidence. Like a scientist. Question everything and everyone, including mommy and daddy. We’re not always right. Challenge us! No question is silly or stupid. I don’t care what you ask me. We will try our very very best to answer it. Now pinky promise me you will ask me a million bajillion questions. *extends pinky*
Lyric – *grabs pinky* I promise.
Harnew – Now give daddy a kissy.
Lyric – *Muah*
Harnew – I love you!
Lyric – I love you more, daddee.
Harnew – *eyes water up* Aww! You gone make me cry.
Lyric – Noooo. Don’t cry, daddee. It be ok.
Harnew – Okay. I’ll be strong for you. *kisses forehead* You gotta be up bright and early in the morning for school so it’s time for bed, okay.
Lyric – Okay. Can I ask you one question before bed time?
Harnew – Go!
Lyric – Where do babies come from?
Harnew – *thinks to self* Oh, dear!

The end

How To Stop Your Baby From Crying In The Middle Of The Night

Craig: Damn, Mike, you look like shit! Didn’t get enough sleep last night?
Mike: No!
Craig: Why not, man?
Mike: My 11th month old son don’t know how to tell time. Woke up in the middle of the night, around 3AM crying uncontrollably. About time he stopped, it was time for work.
Craig: Haha. I use to have that problem.
Mike: Use to? What you do?
Craig: I got that little bastard a job on 1st shift so he could see how it felt to have somewhere to be in the morning.
Mike: You know what, Craig? That don’t sound like a bad idea!

Next scene …

Baby: *Working the assembly line* *pounding fist in disgust* Ooooh I’ma get him!

2 days later …

Craig: You’re glowing! Where you get all this energy from? Looks like someone took my advice.
Mike: Aww yeah, man! That little bastard knows how to tell time now. He’s been sleeping like a baby! Haha. No more crying in the middle of the night. Ahhh! Just peace and quiet. He even go to bed before I do now. Haha.

One week later …

Mike: Son, son, I took some bad pills. You have to keep me up all night long. If I fall asleep, I may die.
Baby: Ho-ho-ho-hoooo I have to keep you up??? Say what, now?! You lost that privilege, daddy-yo! *pounding fist in disgust* You got me this punk ass job, at this punk ass warehouse, working 12 punk ass hour days. I’m 11 *bleep* months, dad!!! This is child abuse!!! They got me bending, twisting, using my body all kind of ways. I haven’t did this much moving since I was in the stomach. They got me lifting 50 pound boxes! That’s 40 pounds more than me, father of the year!!!
Mike: Please, son! I need your help! Please! You have to keep me up or I will die. I took the whole bottle of pills. Please, son! You have to cry!
Baby: I hate my job, dad! I don’t know my ABC’s but I know how to tell the damn time!
Mike: Please, son! Don’t you want to grow up with a father?
Baby: *pounding fist in disgust* I come home and don’t have time to do NOTHING! No play dates! No cartoons! I can’t even read and learn how to walk. NOTHING! I’m always tired! My childhood is ruined. You couldn’t wait ’til I was 5?
Mike: I’m your father! You have to …
Baby: Will you shut up? I have somewhere to be in the morning.
Mike: *cries*
Baby: Ho-ho-ho-hooooo now you wanna keep me up, huh.