Sunday, May 31, 2009

Day 608 - Shopping Maul

Although I don't exercise as much as I used to, going out anywhere with the kids is a workout. Imagine carrying the following: a diaper bag, a snack bag, a double stroller, Emma, and Andrew. That has got to be close to 80 or 90 pounds. And then add Lisa when she gets an urge for a piggyback and add another 175 pounds.

We recently visited a mall and found a parking space close to the entrance. Lucky us! As we strolled towards the doors, a towering staircase greeted us with no sign of an escalator or elevator. Damn us! Much to the delight of the kids, we took them out of the stroller and carried them up two flights of stairs while leaving our bags of baby crap and our double stroller behind. While Lisa was holding Emma's and Andrew's hands, I rushed downstairs to grab our stuff. I threw all of our bags around my shoulder and quickly folded up the thirty pound stroller.

A slight problem was presented to me: a teenage girl was at the bottom of the stairs talking on her cell phone blocking my path to my family. I mumbled "excuse me" as I tried to pass her. Her cheap, slutty teenage face turned to me and then continued to speak to her friend on her phone about her boy problems. I wanted to simply explain to her that the reason she couldn't find a boy is because she's an ugly whore, but I didn't have time for that. My toned arms were beginning to quiver as I carried our forty pound stroller.

You must remember that our stroller is no lightweight umbrella stroller. It's a heavy-duty, fifty pound, big ass, two-ass seating stroller. It's not only sturdy enough to tow twins, but it has been certified as the official stroller of the television show "The Biggest Loser."

I gave up on the teenage girl to move, so I pressed on and figured if I knocked her over on my way up the stairs at least once in her life she could say she was knocked up. When I made it to the top, Lisa looked at me and asked "What the f*&@ was wrong with that b(@&*?" I tried to explain to Lisa that she was just your typical motherf(*#ing b(#&* who couldn't give a s(&* about anyone except herself. To which Emma and Andrew agreed and said, "F*(* yah!"

I truly hope our kids will not become inconsiderate teenagers like the one I encountered on the stair. If you think about it, our kids will become teenagers in just about eleven years and that's a relatively short amount of time. Yet it's just enough time to learn how to make your parent's life a living hell. Hopefully, Lisa and I will try to lead Emma and Andrew down the right path. And if not, I apologize now for whatever flaming bags of poop they may leave on your doorstep.

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