If I Wanted Anything To Hear About Married With Children, I Would Turn On The TV

Hello friends. Kerry Quirk here. Wanna know what really grinds my gears? People that bitch about their married with kids lives. There’s a guy I work with who just loves bitching about his wife and all the bullshit he has to put up with because he got married and had 2 kids. I have bidfriends who complain less about their stupid boyfriends than this guy. The kicker is that out of my office of about 15 people, he’s only one of two people married with kids. His constant bitching does nothing for the rest of us because it’s just like, bro, you did it to yourself. We don’t feel his pain. We’re all livin’ the single life. We don’t care that you had 6 birthday parties and got bitched out by your psycho wife because you fell asleep and didn’t answer the phone. Wanna know what I did this past weekend? Got absolutely fucking shithoused, ate my weight in pizza bites, and played video games. Granted, I had to run errands because I don’t have a spouse to do that for me, but still! I’d rather do things this way.

Boy meets girl. Girl is cool as shit and has a vagina. More importantly, girl has a vagina. If boy gets her drunk, maybe girl will let him put his dick in it. Somewhere along this fun little adventure, boy gets stupid as bricks and marries this broad. Girl turns into Charizard and goes bat shit crazy. Honestly though, what did he expect? He obviously has heard the whole issue before about what people, more specifically what women, turn into after they’re married. Yet he still went for it. And because he went for it…now we all have to listen to it. Granted, yeah it’d be cool to get married. I almost eloped when I was 17. But now, I mean, I just turned 22 years old, and this kid, who’s only 5 years older than me, makes it seem fucking awful, and he’s not even the one who had to have gremlins ripped out his vag. I’ll bust out some crazy weekend story about strippers and parties and whatever the fuck else and he’ll interject with a story that begins with “Hey do you remember that song ‘Summertime’? The Kenny Chesney song? Well I was at this party once…” Well, yes, I unfortunately do remember that song and how it was all of my friends ringtone that summer. That summer being 2000fucking6. Yes yes, we all like to reminisce about things and that’s fine and dandy. But just admit that you miss being single and child-less. Don’t try to relate to me in 2006. Because you will lose. Because my life was pretty fucking great then too. And I don’t want to embarrass anybody. But usually, 85% of the time, its all about your bitch ass wife. And how much she sucks. And like I said before, its only because you got married. Girls expect life to be one big fat honey moon and at some point, the vacation runs out and now you have to live with this person who shits with the door open and smells like balls in the morning and usually just wants to stay in and not do shit until he wants to go out with his friends and you’re not invited. And then they get pissed and turn into Decepticons for all eternity. And your hand is just constantly chaffed from beating off so damn much because she won’t put out. I’ve heard of girls asking guys to marry them, and that’s cool going all Spice Girls on his ass. But almost always, it’s the dude’s fucking cliche down-on-bended-knee-cooking-a-ring-into-a-cake-throwing-your-face-on-a-jumbotron bullshit. That’s all up to him. Therefore, I don’t want to fucking hear about it when I’m at work, trying to blog.

Then of course there are kids. Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand that there are mistakes. I am a proud mistake. I have no shame about it and other than the fact that I was a fucking terror in high school, things worked out pretty alright for my parents. But look…whether or not you knew the chick would get knocked up, you still made a choice. I’m not here to turn this into a big fucking pro-choice/pro-life debate because this is a blog about a Gorgeous Ranting Brunette, not a blog about Nancy Grace giving blow jays to Sean Hannity. But anyway, this is just me saying “Look dude. I get what you’re saying, and maybe you are pro-life and that’s cool. But don’t bitch about your fucking kids!” Even before having to decide between a hasty smasmortion or having your psycho wife pump your mini-me out her vagina, you could’ve at least asked what every man asks – “Bitch, is your ass on fucking birth control? Because otherwise this load in my testes is going straight on your forehead.” Or, if you’re that concerned, grab a condamn. Oh, I see, you don’t use those. Ok, that’s fine. BUT DON’T FUCKING COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOUR KID WET HIS PANTS OR NEEDED A TON OF MONEY TO PLAY T-BALL OR WHATEVER THE TITS ELSE! You chose to have sex, you chose to not wrap your meat stick up, you chose to believe her lies about babykiller candy, you chose to bust all up in her shit, you chose not to buy Plan B during a CVAsshole rendezvous, and then you chose to give birth to it and keep it. Therefore, you lose sir. Good day.

I’m not sitting here trying to hate on kids or getting married or anything. But just realize that un-married people without kids don’t feel any pity for you. We don’t have to! Our biggest responsibilities are typically bills and not getting too fucked up on booze or drugs that we can’t make it to work. We don’t have kids, we don’t have to worry about college funds, and we don’t have bitch ass wives. My biggest concern today was figuring out what type of stripper pole and beruit table I wanted for my new house. So stop complaining, you picked it, not me.

*7/10 people absolutely ADORED my hidden widdle Eastah Egg ;)