But sometimes, no matter my steadfast diligence to avoid it...the Grumpy Ol' Bastard comes back.
A sure fire way to bring about this horrid ressurection? Taking my kids to the doctor.
Love my kids, like their doctor...but sitting in the pediatric waiting room makes me want to shoot everyone I see with birth control bullets. It is quite literally possible to see the local gene pool get shallower as you wait. I've always been pro-choice, but waiting here makes me want to petition on both the state and federal levels to make late term abortions not only legal, but, sometimes, mandatory...say up to about 25 years or so.
Seems like you have to have a permit or license to do pretty much anything...except make babies. It boggles the mind.
And why does this need to happen soon? So the progeny of these mouth-breathing, knuckle dragging, consumers of all that is wrong don't grow up to do this...
(on a vehicle spied in the pediatric parking lot)