Babies at Restaurants

So, we all know that babies are annoying. But you know what is worse? The annoying baby’s parents.

I work at a restaurant, so naturally I’m bound to have to deal with a lot of random babies and their parents.

For starters, if I have a kid, you can be sure we wouldn’t go out to eat at a restaurant until he or she can behave. That child will know that crying in public just to cry is not allowed. We’ll order take out and eat at home if I just don’t feel like cooking.  And I understand, you just had a kid and need to get out of the house sometimes. 1) Don’t have a kid if you’re not prepared to give up your social life; 2) find someone to watch the child for an hour or two while you get out.

Okay, so now my kid is well behaved enough to go out, I’m not going to chop up food into bite sized pieces and put it on the TABLE! (And then leave it for the employees to clean up.) Seriously? That’s what plates are for. Or get some of those plastic disposable placemats.  Something. Don’t make some poor server have to pick up all your babies drooly grimey food pieces off the table. And the floor. And the seats. It’s disgusting. I don’t have kids because I think they’re gross, I’d have a hard enough time cleaning up after something that shared my blood, much less some strange human baby. Stop it. And if your kid makes a mess, clean up after him? Duh.

Then there are the parents who try to teach their kid to talk in public. “Grilled cheese. Can you say grilled cheese, sweetie? Grilled. Cheese. Grillllllllllllleeed cheeeeeese.” Okay, we fucking get it, you want your kid to learn how to order for itself. But your infant who can hardly even make out the words “momma” and “dada” is not going to learn it today. Be courteous of everyone who has to hear you and don’t be an annoying asshole. Save that for the privacy of your own house so as not to piss off all the people in the place.

So now your kid is too big for a high chair, so it’s free to run. Don’t let it? Inside a tiny restaurant where it is already hard enough to move around, the last thing I need is a two foot tall creature running around beneath my line of vision. Especially because I’m usually carrying something hot, heavy, or that requires balance – one little bump from a mini-human and it all goes crashing to the floor (or on your kid). On a similar note, if we are obviously busy, your two year old doesn’t need a table to itself. Don’t act annoyed when I tell your kid to move so that I can seat someone there that is actually going to make me money. Because, to be honest, you’re the one that should be telling it not to run off and play at empty tables in the first place.

I could probably go on for a while, but I’ll wrap it up there. All these things just reassure me that I don’t want children. Life is already annoying enough.

Things that Frighten, Annoy, or Cause Nausea In Me

I know you all know this, but it needs to be said: you are all mental cases. And so am I. Zach and Brian are totally cuckoo when it comes to certain things like germs (Zach) and penises (Brian). What I mean is that we all obsess over things and we all have some mild form of OCD that makes us cringe whenever we see someone scratching their bare skin with long nails or if we have to clean a plate that has olive pits on it. So, just to make you see you’re not alone, here is a list of things that make me feel like I’m crazy:

1) Oreos

My boyfriend told me about a month ago that Oreos can cause colon cancer. Now, I have no clue if this is actually true, but I have not been able to even look at Oreos since then. But, what the hell? I smoke. I drink. And I’m afraid of getting cancer from Oreos? Makes perfect sense. I actually ate an Oreo last night by literally forcing it down my throat. I felt like I had to get over this irrational fear by eating one. It did not work, believe me. The worse part is that I must have eaten like 40 boxes of Oreos as a child. How’s my colon doing? (Again, I have no idea if Oreos actually give you cancer, so if anyone knows, please tell me. Not that it will change anything because I’m completely obsessed with hating Oreos now)

2) Old Pizza Boxes

Come on. Who hasn’t left an old, empty pizza box sitting in their kitchen for days at a time? I definitely have. But ever since I heard that cockroaches lay eggs in the little cardboard ridges of pizza boxes, I have been so obsessively aware of pizza boxes sitting in my house. I need to get them the hell out of there as soon as possible. Potential cockroaches?! EW!

3) Stickers That Have Been Unstuck

K EW. I can’t even. Ugh. Look, guys. I’ll be the first to take off a barcode sticker from the bottom of a new mug or whatever. But once that sticker has been unstuck, get it the FUCK away from me. I don’t know what it is about stickers that freaks me out so horribly. It’s so much worse if an unstuck sticker has been sitting somewhere or has been stuck to a new place and has collected this dirty shit on its sticky side oh my god I’m gonna vomit. Kids love stickers because kids are gross.

4) That’s another thing. Kids.

I love my nephew and niece. I love babies. I want to squeeze them and make them giggle and give them candy. But have you seen how disgusting kids can get? It’s unbearable. My niece is 8 months old and she drools like a juice box with a hole in it. There is drool dribbling out of her mouth literally all the fucking time. Don’t ask me to hold the baby right after you fed her. I know what it’s like to have a baby spew vomit all over my shoulder. Not cool.

And my nephew, who is 4, thinks it’s okay to eat a hard candy that fell out of his mouth and onto the floor when he was laughing. That is never okay. If I have a kid I’m going to put it in a giant bubble.

5) Bars of Soap

I can’t use them. Give me body wash and a loofah and I’ll get to work, but a bar of soap? EW, dude. Bars of soap get hairs on them and then you have to pick the hair off to use it and just ewwwww. Also there’s that saying: soap takes the dirt off your skin, but what takes the dirt off the soap? Nothing, that’s what. Don’t get me wrong, I have used bars of soap. But I’ve hated it every time. I need a little bottle of liquid soap in order to feel clean. At least that way I know the dirt is going down the drain along with the soap as opposed to just sitting there and drying up beside the sink just to get the dirt all over my hands again next time I wash them.

I’m sure there are tons of other things I could come up with, but I’m blanking right now. Point is we are all crazy in our own little ways.

Please, someone tell me if Oreos give you cancer.

Dolls Giving Birth, Babies with Babies

Some days you are just too hungover to do anything but move from your bed to the couch with your computer… Today is one of those days. From time to time these days will come along and I usually spend them creeping on Facebook or shopping online. I was clicking back and forth between these two activities when I saw a hilarious picture that a former professor of mine posted this morning with no explanation or description.

This professor is a good friend, a very talented woman, and she randomly takes creepy doll photos… Clearly, I respect her. My mind is somewhat muddled from last night’s alcohol adventures and this was my comment on the photo,

“Awwwww! So cute it makes me wish I could have a doll of my own, and I don’t mean I want to buy one, I mean I want to give birth to it. (Not a real child, but a real child doll).”

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