if you’re looking for another word for asshole…

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try *teenager.*

ugh. can i just say that i loathe teenagers? and, unfortunately, i have expertise in the shark tank known as *teenager-dom.* and trust me, they all suck. and not like in a ‘oh, look, it’s a cute and cuddly post pubescent narcissist.’ no, it’s more like, someone grab me a rope and a pencil sharpener–this is going to be a doozy.

side note: ok, maybe i got a little carried away with the whole ‘pencil sharpener’ thing. really, i have nowhere to go with that. it’s just the first thing that came to mind. maybe i’m mcguyver? (and if you don’t know who mcguyver is, then you’re too young to be reading this blog)

so anyway, the latest episode in my “all teenagers are assholes” insight came this morning.

oy vey.

it’s no secret that our economy is in the toilet. BUT what might be a secret is this: neither tommy nor i have jobs. well, jobs that pay anyway. it IS a known fact that tommy sold his business over 2 years ago and has since been “retired” and i….well, i am just unemployed. basically i have no skills–except for my insane ability to master a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle in just under a week–but to date, it hasn’t paid off–monetarily–but inside, i feel like a million bucks.

where. can. i. cash. in. my. chips.

anyway, we live and die in the stock market. which, by the by, i TOLD tommy was a bad idea. whatever happened to stuffing your money in your mattress? huh? doesn’t sound like a cock-a-mamey idea now, does it? and that whole “what if your house burns down along with your mattress” thing? i got news for you people–our house hasn’t burned down yet. but the institution known as NASDAQ? well, that’s another nightmare altogether. can anyone say burning building?

so you know all those homeless people i serve at the shelter? all along you thought i did that because i’m a good person and all, but really, i do that because i’m trying to get to know my new neighbors. AND, i’m hoping that by working there i’ll get seconds when it’s triple cheeseburger night. (it all comes back to food–you notice that?)

we’re trying our best to cope in these difficult times. tommy sells his blood every four days, and well, i tried to sell mine but they told me i didn’t weigh enough. ok, so that’s not entirely true. the truth is i like my blood and prefer to keep it INSIDE my body. well, that and they ran out of cookies before it was my turn to go and i refuse (REFUSE!) to give blood and not get a cookie. i’m not a fucking idiot!

so tommy has been weak (from all the blood selling) and i’ve been cookieless and well, frankly, someone had to step up to the plate and stop the bleeding (pun absolutely intended). so i had this brilliant idea to sell my expensive car and get a less expensive, more teenager embarrassing type car. we might as well. we already have a prius, which about sent our 13 year old over the ledge when we announced its arrival. to this day she apologizes to her friends every time tommy picks her up from school in it.

oh man, do we laugh.

so i shared my idea with the older girls today, and their reaction was less than expected. no, scratch that. it’s exactly what you would expect…from assholes.

case closed.

need more proof? ok, so it went like this:

me: you know girls, times are tough. everyone is having to buckle down and tighten up. the whole world is contracting.

asshole #1: ooh. that’s gross.

me: what’s gross?

asshole #1: what you said about contracting. don’t say that.

me (sighing): what i’m trying to say is that i’m going to sell the range rover and get a more economical suv.

asshole #2: like what?

me: well, like the honda pilot. it’s a great car, we can all fit in it, and it gets decent gas mileage.

asshole #2: HONDA PILOT? OH MY GOD! SO WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TWO HIDEOUS CARS?

me (counting to 10 and then wishing the person who invented the whole counting to 10 thing would explode into like a billion pieces–IT DOESN’T WORK PEOPLE!): let me tell both of you this, right now. you suck. not only do you suck, but i wish you knew how much you actually sucked. but you know what? you can’t know that because you both suck and that’s your job–to suck. and i just have to deal with your suckiness…until you grow out of it…which won’t be soon enough…because you suck.

asshole #1: jeez mom, chill out. you’re so intense. we didn’t mean anything by it. fine. sell the car. just stop telling us we suck. jeez.

asshole #2 (crossing her arms across her chest and pouting): this is so embarrassing. are we out of money?

me: we? are WE out of money? i’m sorry. i wasn’t aware YOU had any. are you holding out on us?

asshole #2 (rolling her eyes now): you’re not funny.

asshole #1: so, am i getting a car for my 16th birthday or what?

and then somehow they both spontaneously combust. everywhere. little bits and pieces of assholishness spread like…little bits and pieces of assholishness…all over the floor. huh. weird. it seems counting to 10 doesn’t work, but wishing your teenagers would explode right before your eyes does.

oh great. now who’s going to clean up the mess on the floor?