It’s not that I would consider my mother “lax” on the rules once the internet in our house came into play (Ohhhh AOL CDs! 5 free hours! HOORAY!), but there was none of the scary ‘that’s not a 12 year old you’re talking to! it’s a 30 year old man and he’s going to kidnap you!’ horror stories that there are today, y’know, time and experience and all that is what brought that to light. Al Gore in all of his infinite internet creating wisdom really should have prepared us all for assholes, trolls, and creepers.
Of course she told me never to give out our home address or our phone number, and for the MOST PART I was a good kid who obeyed. I had very few people on the internet that I actually considered friends- but at the same time- the internet was not this vast cornucopia of information overload that there is today, what with Google being able to answer pretty much every single question you could ever have, and know it all shitbricks on forums just ACHING to talk to you, or answer your plea for help on whatever subject it is that they think they either know absolutely everything about, or know nothing about and just wanna fuck with you.
Trust me, go to Yahoo! Answers and you will find this to be the case.
Personally, I find the good of the internet to outweigh the bad at the end of the day, but really only if you know what to expect, how to protect yourself (so to speak) and what NOT to say. I know we all want to cry FREEDOM OF SPEECH and say whatever the fuck springs to our minds at any given second, but it’s slightly more complicated than that. Why? Assholes. Plain and simple assholes. And they are everywhere, rampant even!
As most people know by now, after a couple of scaldings, I got MEGA-BURNED by some lovely ladies in my mission for answers when my wee one was sick.
It was at that point when it really sunk in that asking for advice on the internet is a shit-shoot. Needle in a haystack? Going to McDonalds for a salad? Asking a whore for a hug?
There’s a SLIM possibility you might find something, some answer, some product that suits your needs- but it’s more likely that you won’t. Or you’ll have to wade through a lot (a lot a lot) of bullshit to find it. You’re more than likely going to get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for, and who on earth has time for that?
Things get even uglier when you start asking around for parenting advice, because LORD KNOWS everyone has an opinion on that shit, and yours is usually wrong. It’s like talking politics.. AVOID. AVOID AT ALL COSTS AVOID! Unless you are a skilled debater- HOLY FUCK AVOID. Unless you are talking with someone you trust, and not in a completely open (and vulnerable) spot? AVOID IT.
People are just asshats, when it comes down to it. There are times where you don’t even ASK for advice, and still people feel the need to give it to you. Unsolicited advice- YAAYYY IT’S SO AWESOME! How I love it, so.
Please, please DO tell me more about myself, my life, my house, my children and how I should handle every single life situation, even though i’ve never met you and I only said what I said to get a chuckle out of anyone (myself especially) or GOD FORBID, vent so that I don’t spork someone in the nipple…
So, yeah, if it’s not clear, I do not ask strangers on the internet for advice anymore. Unless it’s on how to deal with the smell of poop or something off the wall like that. I feel like poop is a safe subject. Unless you’re eating it or something, then it’s not safe at all.
Sometimes I even fear asking my FRIENDS for advice, not that they’re assholes or anything, but some of them are, well… opinionated– and sometimes you’re just not in the mood for opinionated. It’s like wanting Coke and getting a Dr. Pepper. That shit ain’t cool.
Even though I don’t go to many FOR advice, many come to me for it. Or maybe just to let the air out of the bag without one of their turdy opinionated friends, acquaintances, or overbearing family members get ahold of it and start a shit storm of epic proportions for no damn reason. It happens to the best of us. And while I am kind of a bitch, and I am most certainly opinionated- duh to my vast experience in the bitches of the internet and the Judgy McCheerios Shitters of the parenting world- those that know me know I will not pull that crap on them. Not even if I feel a slight twinge to do so.
Sometimes i’m not sure if they’re actually asking me for real advice, or asking rhetorical questions (because sometimes it just feels good to ask it even when you don’t want a damn answer)- but either way I feel it pertinent to come up with answers. Not serious answers mind you, but my kind of answers. I mean, if someone texts me something along the lines of
“What the fuck is wrong with this kid?”
Clearly I don’t have any REAL idea, but I can assume if it is a kid, that this answer will always work
“Kids are all assholes”
It’s either that or:
“He/she wants to see you suffer”
“Poddler. Curse of the poddler”
“Perhaps he is trying to make you lose your mind so you finally buy him/her EVERYTHING on his/her wishlist instead of the cheap shit. You know you’ve been trolling the dollar stores too much when your kid starts foaming at the mouth”
I mean, why can’t all advice be like that? Slightly factual, slightly humorous (assuming you don’t have a stick wedged up your crack), and breaks up the seriousness of the situation?
Look, I have no idea where i’m going with this. What it comes down to is NOT to be a know-it-all internet twat who shits all over everyone and spews advice where it isn’t asked for or needed. And especially don’t be a bitch when it is.
Oh, and if you come to me for advice.. or to vent.. don’t expect wholly serious responses- although I AM serious about all kids being assholes. This includes mine. And probably yours.
So I guess that’s my point… I think it is anyway; that the world is better with more humor, fewer assholes, and that Al Gore is a giant douchey turd.
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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