Thursday, January 9, 2014

Wanted: Coffee Slaves Able to Make Grumpy Cat Latte Art

   
When I was little I was required to bring my parents coffee in the mornings to wake them up. I didn't have to make it or anything, it was set on a timer to go off by itself. Still, I felt like a slave. Such injustice to make a child haul two cups of boiling hot coffee across the house to her lazy ass parents. That's the way I saw it. That's how I felt...then...when I was little. Now that I'm a parent I'm thinking my parents were fucking geniuses. Of course, I would never ask my children to bring me coffee to my bedside every morning. Not because it's wrong...but because I don't trust them to not fuck it up. They love to fuck up a chore on purpose so that they don't have to do it anymore. I'm not really willing to risk ending up with scalding hot coffee all over my face. "Ooops, Mom, sorry! Butterfingers!" It's a lovely dream, though. Waking up to coffee...better yet, a skinny vanilla latte being placed in my greedy, spoiled little hands. Instead I get to wake up to one child shoving a brownie in my face for me to open for him and another child pooping in my bathroom. No idea what the other two are doing. Probably drinking all my damn coffee. Good morning, motherfucking snow day three.

No comments:

Post a Comment