Why Kids Suck

Okay, let me preface this by saying I love kids, which might seem totally at odds with the title of this post. What I mean is, having kids sucks. Kids, themselves, the actual human units known as “children,” are pretty great. They’re cute and they say stupid hilarious things and they’re more honest than any adults I’ve ever met (for better or worse).

BUT. But but but but but. Kids who aren’t just human units and happen to be your human units, whole people for whose lives you are entirely responsible, suck. And I know that they are miracles, and they allegedly turn one into a giant love-machine, and “you don’t even know yourself until you have a child,” and blah blah blah.

That’s all great, but I would rather just not know myself if I have to have a child to do it. For people who want kids, that’s great. But for people who don’t, child-havers, please stop judging us as sub-par humans ’cause we’re just not into it. There are plenty of reasons to have a kid, apparently (I’m pretty sure I’m missing any and all maternal/desire-to-carry-on-the-human-race genes), but all I see are reasons to not have a kid. Such as:

  1. They are a 24/7 job. You can’t just shove them away and say, “Well, fuuuuuck this! I’ve had enough of screaming and puking and pooping, and I just want to relax.” You can’t just not take them to school, and listen to their horrible teenage attitudes, and suffer through their ridiculous girlfriend/boyfriend choices. FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, you are saddled with responsibility that you can never, ever shake, unless Child Protective Services gets involved.
  2. They are expeeeeensive. Money money monn-ay…all gone.
  3. They ruin your body. (Men, fuck you.) They rip up your lady parts, make your flat stomach scarred and saggy, drag your boobs to the floor (haha I typo’d that as “boops” at first…can that be new slang?), etc. You can always tell a mom from a non-mom unless they had that sucker when they were 15 and bounced back like a rubber band.
  4. They never care about you as much as you care about them. Sure, they love you as much, but they don’t worry about you every second of every day and think about your well-being all the time and how their everylittledecision might affect you. That kind of sounds like having a boyfriend who’s just not that into you, except you can never break up.
  5. If you fuck them up, you fuck. Them. Up. They will be in therapy forever, crying into a couch cushion, just because you scared them with a Bobo doll or had a fight in front of them. They’re like little sponges that you have to squeeze ever-so-gently, or you’ll leave them dried up and bent out of shape forever. (Damn, I’m proud of that analogy.)

And those are just the negative reasons! The positive reasons go on and on and on:

  1. Hot young body for years longer!
  2. Tons of extra money to spend on yourself! Trips, clothes, wine, cars, trips!
  3. No one to look after–more alone time!
  4. More sex!
  5. More drinking!
  6. More motivation to take up a cool hobby when you’re older–salsa dancing? Pottery? Windsurfing?
  7. More of ANY-FUCKING-THING YOU WANT, BECAUSE IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU!

That’s the general idea, you see. The all time, number-one reason I don’t want kids is because I am selfish. To have a child, you give up a huge part of yourself, a huge piece of your life, and a world of possibility you might never get back. It’s the most selfless thing you could ever do…and, ladies and gentleman, I applaud you. And I’ll keep on applauding you when I’m 35, sitting in a comfy living room painting my nails and admiring my new expensive clothes, with not a binky or a bottle in sight. Cheers!

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Scrap-Person

When I was little, I had this really weird habit of wanting to be just one “type” of person. A perfectly encapsulated stereotype of a human, 100% of the time found in some movie I liked. And it usually never made sense. Some of the people I remember wanting to be are: a gladiator (guess what film that one was from?), a grease monkey, a glamorous lady, and Alison from Judy Blume’s Just as Long as We’re Together because she was always nice and everyone loved her.

And then I grew up, and nothing changed. Okay, a little changed–I stopped caring about making my personality like people from books and movies (because I’m AWESOME) and mostly wanted to look/dress/have hair like people from books and movies. So I’d go all bananas on one style for a few weeks, then move on to the next one. Bada-bing. But some notable characters stuck out, and so these are the people whose style I steal in some kind of twisted self-scrapbooking way:

Brigitte Bardot

Brigitte is my girl forever. She’s gorgeous, crazy, timeless, and her clothes are un-fucking-real. I love her giant hair and raccoon eyes, but it’s her outfits that go into my WildHearts scrapbook of life.

Candice Swanepoel

Scrapbook element: makeup. After all, if you’re going to have face-paint inspiration, who better than a Victoria’s Secret model?

Ballerinas

They’re the reason I love black tights. Ballet clothes are so pretty and simple and effortless and, sure, look way better on anorexic dancers than the average person, but who said I was average?

Bohemians

I forgot to add “gypsy” to the list of things I really wanted to be when I was little.

I’m bored now. You’re probably bored too! Or, if you’re an American, you’re probably too busy watching your dad blow off his fingers with a firework to read this post.

 

A Work of Living

Jobs are a bleak dreary horrible thing. If you are some kind of freak who likes their job, then you can just go sit in the corner with some construction paper and scissors and cut yourself some confetti. Otherwise, you are probably a normal person who wants to die for 8 hours a day.

Cats make the wanting-to-die thing a little better.

Do you know that movie The Island, where everyone lives on a secret hippie commune island and they all pitch in for food and shelter and get to live in a beautiful paradise together? That is what life should be. Instead, people work all day to survive, but they are wasting their lives at work. It’s a paradox, or a circle, or something smart-sounding: you work to make money –> you make money to enjoy life –> you can’t enjoy life because you’re working.

But what if you could have any job ever? What would you be? I never really gave this any thought because the obvious answer is “independently wealthy.” I am not at all ashamed to admit that I would gladly sit around and shop and drink tea and travel to exotic places and do nothing of value to society if I had the G’s. But if I had to have a dream job not titled “rich bitch,” I’ve figured out what I would be.

  1. A stylist. You get to shop for a living. And hang out with celebrities. And if you hated them and they were obnoxious and self-absorbed, you could put them in something hideous and call it “cutting edge.”
  2. A magazine editor. You get to put together a book full of shopping ideas. Plus, you get to make Anne Hathaway do your bidding, and I don’t care for her so I would make her do stupid things like fetch me lattes whilst on a unicycle.
  3. A museum curator. You get to shop for art for a living. And, you can help up-and-coming artists become the next Andy Warhol but less creepy and rude.
  4. An artist. I can’t think of a quip for this one because I would absolutely love making art for a living.
  5. A blogger, which if you get paid for it, is just like being independently wealthy while taking lots of pictures. (Hey there WordPress, wanna pay me?)

Rich and famous people always say you should “be what you love” and all that shit, and I am for chasing your dreams like a My Pretty Pony prancing through a field of daises, but in my opinion that only applies if you love garbage removal or difficult math. “I love to shop” doesn’t exactly translate into a stellar job.

So, the best I can hope for is the zombie apocalypse (totally not influenced by The Walking Dead playing in the background right now) so that I can steal all the clothes I want from abandoned malls and then go live in some former stylist’s mansion.

Life’s Great Little Good Things

If you like charming things and socially awkward French people, you should watch Amélie. Because it totally has both those things.

My favorite part about the movie, though, is the way they introduce the characters. They say a few important things about them–like their job, or where they were born–and then they say really specific, weird things that they like or dislike. Amélie’s mother, for instance, likes to clean and organize her purse. Amélie likes the feeling of putting her hand into dry grain (which feels great, in case you’ve never had the pleasure). Seriously, though, why doesn’t everyone introduce themselves this way?

Honestly, I care way more about if a person hates birds chirping or loves using stencils on construction paper than about their political views. Because it’s wacky and interesting and plus, people would like each other more! Not a lot of chit-chats about abortion rights lead to enthusiastic high-fives, but everyone can get behind how awesome the first bite into a fresh apple is (SO GOOD, right?). And then instead of being like, “Yeah, I do remember your friend Dave, actually. He’s the dick who believes in [insert controversial topic people like to blather about here], isn’t he?” people would be all, “Ohhhh, Dave! I love that guy! We both like to put black olives on our fingers before we eat them.”

See, these bitches bonded over their love of opening a can of Tab.

Oops, I think I just figured out world peace.

For real, though, can Weird Things About Oneself be the new handshake? Then it won’t have to get all awkward when it’s the dirty-looking guy’s turn to go around and rub his hepatitis all over you (oh, what, you don’t hang out with people who might have hepatitis?). Instead, he can just be like, “I enjoy contracting diseases!” and you can yell back, “One of my favorite things is the feeling of clean untouched hands!”

You know. Or you might be normal and none of this applies to you. I DON’T KNOW. This whole post was just supposed to be a short little segue into my List of Odd Little Things I Like and Dislike, but I got carried away. And I used up all my brainpower blathering, so now I can’t even remember the LOLTILD. I’ll just do one of each: I don’t like the smell of double-brewed coffee (e.g., coffee made partially from old grounds), and I like the feeling of warm grass under my bare feet. And since nobody likes negativity, here’s a bonus Thing I Like: being picked up and spun around by someone who is genuinely excited to see you.

Fuck, life is full of good great little things. Now go do some while I sleep.

Life Should Be Sketchy

It would be cool if life was like a comic book. Everything is exciting, and nobody ever has bad skin, and your boyfriend turns out to be an awesome superhero who looks good in spandex. Just ask Mary Jane.

I mean, let’s look at the facts. She’s dating Peter Parker, who is smart and sexy in a nerdy sort of way, but whenever things get boring in the bedroom he can just tie her to the bed with some webby stuff. (Although, ew, that reminds me of this article I just read that said Spider-Man was all about puberty–his body’s changing, he’s confused, and, here’s the kicker, his body just starts making sticky white stuff for no reason! Whoa! Seriously, it kind of killed it for me.) Anyway. Besides how awesome her life is, good ol’ cartoon Mary Jane also is way prettier than anyone could ever be in real life. Case and point:

Yeeeah. No offense to Kirsten Dunst, but I think Peter Parker would rather get it on with the drawing. Because thanks to illustrator J. Scott Campbell, she also has perfect hair and really cool jeans. And a totally-not-realistic body, but why bother drawing a frumpy love interest, right? I haven’t found a lot of dudes with Spider-Man’s abs, but I’m not complaining (about the drawing, that is. I would really appreciate more real-life guys with a six-pack).

Long story short, I would be stoked if I woke up and everything was pencil-and-ink. Think of the possibilities! A pimple? Just erase it. Ugly clothes? Draw some better ones. No car? Doodle yourself up a sexy convertible. This is all getting a little Harold and the Purple Crayon, but I think it would be pretty sweet. (Mostly because I could totally draw jetpack shoes. And that would be cool.)

A List of Things

I write a lot about specific topics, and even though I manage to put in a lot of random rambling, sometimes I want the whole post to be me tipping over my head and pouring out my brain. So, here is a list of random thoughts from the scrambledy noggin of me, Wild Hearts.

  1. I am very lucky. I have been extra-extra happy lately, and I am super thankful. Is that corny as all get-out? Yes. (Also, was saying “corny as all get-out” corny? Yeah. But if I keep asking that it’s just gonna be an infinite circle of corniness and no one wants that.) But is it true? Also yes.
  2. I love everything made out of potatoes. Mmm.
  3. Sometimes, I take things too personally, or get bitchy over something stupid. I’m working on it, and so far, so good. (You catch more rabbits with honey. I don’t know if that’s true, but the point here is that honey is good and I really don’t want to catch any flies. And bunnies and honey are cute!)
  4. I feel 9,000 times sexier in a garter belt and thigh-highs. It is my Instant Sexy.
  5. I am superstitious. Some things I believe in: knocking on wood, salt being protective, almost any folk tale, and not messing around with mirrors. (Black cats, however, I love.)
  6. I will do abso-fucking-lutely anything to bounce on a trampoline.
  7. I think it would be really cool to have black hair for a day (I’m blonde). But just a day.
  8. My favorite kind of people are carefree and fun and funny and wild and spontaneous, but who can also be the best serious conversation you’ve ever had. I’m lucky enough to know a few.
  9. I wear a lot of blush because I like to always look like I’ve just been laughing. (Not like a tranny, I promise.)
  10. Pickles. SO GOOD.
  11. I have an intense, burning hatred for nostalgia. And for living in the past. It’s good to have good memories, but that’s all they are. Make new better ones instead.
  12. When I see cute dogs I want to kidnap them. Especially Great Pyrenees.
  13. I don’t trust people who don’t like the water.
  14. One of my favorite things in the whole-wide world is when you look at them and you can tell what they’re thinking through their eyes. (Unless it’s something bad, like, “I hate her stupid face.” And then you can just slap on a pair of sunglasses, thankyouverymuch.)
  15. I am really excellent at telling people how I feel about them if they say it first. I could date someone for five billion years but I will never, ever, ever say, “I love you,” before they do unless it’s an accident. But if they say it, no problemo.
  16. I like giving head.
  17. Drinks with sour mix in them are delicious. Are you drinking one right now? No? Then you should be.
  18. I can’t wait for my hair to get longer.
  19. This number is my birth-day!

That is a lot of random thoughts, but there you have it.

See? Instant Sexy, just add legs.

 

Thankful Thank-Yous (A Day Late)

Happy Black Friday!

I’m usually late for everything, and this thankfulness-list is no exception. So: I am thankful for all the usual things (friends, family, a roof over my head, and all the rest of it), but here are some of the random things I am thankful for:

Sushi (thank you, Japan, for making something so scrumptious), the inventor of Skor (toffee + chocolate + my face = mouthgasam…seriously, it’s simple math), hair brushes (without them, I would have a white-girl afro), whoever pioneered using your mouth for things other than kissing (smart dude), kissing (I mean, you can never go wrong with the classics), the sun for not having a supernova-level bitch fit and eating up Earth (keep up the good work, Mr. Golden Sun), all the turkeys who escaped being eaten yesterday (may you live to gobble for many more seasons), all the people who were lucky enough to eat turkey yesterday (YAY not starving!), people who pick up other people’s books when they drop them (you are nice), friends who tell you when you have something in your teeth (because it’s a lot nicer to know about it than walk around looking icky), the creator of fishtail braids (they make me feel even more Irish than usual), and the book that tells me how to make paper cranes (folding them has gotten me through so many boring minutes).

Basically: thank you, World, for having so much interesting and amazing stuff. And thank you, People, for being so nice and strange and wonderful.

Happy Thanksgiving.