Worst Parent Ever

April 4, 2010


This article could have just as easily read:

Proving once again his tenuous understanding of even the most basic tasks associated with parenting, Michael Lohan is holding a press conference in reaction to his daughters breakdown.

 An independent study conducted by the University of London revealed that of all the possible reactions to the ongoing emotional and mental degeneration of your child, “holding a press conference” did not even place in the top 100. 

Number one was “hugging your child”.

In an effort to claim the mantel of “humanities worst parent” from the Balloon Boy’s father, Michael Lohan has also had the following inappropriate reaction to Lindsay’s other problems.

  • When she was 6 and had a nightmare about camels, he called her agent and booked her on Circus of the Stars
  • During a crying fit after losing three straight roles to Mandy Moore, he reallocated a portion of her 401K to Mutual Funds
  • After hitting her head during a cocaine binge, he issued a statement through his lawyer stating he would not seek an injunction against Popeye’s chicken
  • When tearfully approaching him at home saying “God sakes help me please help me please be my father” he filmed the incident and sold it to Entertainment Tonight.

My life at Riverdale

March 30, 2010

Feb 22

Well, we’re done the move and I just spent my first day in Riverdale.  I’m still pretty bummed to leave Toronto, all my friends were there and I hated leaving.  I tried to tell my Dad any of this but he just started in a again about how this was a wonderful opportunity and blah blah blah.  I can’t even find Riverdale on a map.  Tomorrow is my first day at school, I’m not really looking forward to it.  I’ve barely seen any kids since I’ve been here, I don’t know where they would all be.  This place sucks.

Feb 23

This place is fucked up.  So I had my first day at school today and get this – my teacher’s name is Mrs. Grundy.   What the fuck kind of name is that?  She introduced me to the class but halfway through some red haired kid came flying in with a fucking german shepherd behind him while some monstrously obese man yelled at him.  I was honestly kind of freaked out but the whole class barely reacted.  The red haired kid took this crazy fucking spill over the desk and I could have sworn I heard his spine break but I guess he was fine.  The huge fat guy (apparently our principle) just said “See you in Detention, Andrews”.  I still have no fucking clue how the dog fit in or really what happened.

I tried to make some friends later – there was a cute girl named Betty in my class and I tried to joke with her – “Mrs. Grundy” I said after class “More like Mrs. Cunty!”  I was referring to the homework she gave us.  Betty just looked at me and said that I shouldn’t say mean things about people. 


Feb 24

 Oh man, that Andrews again.  We were in science (with Prof. Flutesnoot no less.  Honestly, this town is 10 types of fucked) doing an experiment and we were working with hydrated piric acid.  Anyway that numb fuck starts mixing in some normally stable perchlorate but he heated them first!  Needless to say the resulting explosion took out half the wall.  So a couple things.

1. Why the fuck do grade 11 students have unsupervised access to explosive materials at this school?  In Canada, we were allowed to mix baking soda with coke.
2. One girl in the class was horribly burned but as far as I can tell there’s going to be no investigation or criminal proceedings. That fat fuck Weatherbee (THE FUCK IS WITH THESE NAMES?) just said Andrews had more detention. For blowing up a wall. And potentially killing a student. Honestly, how is that not practically a terrorist act?

I tried to make a joke to Betty – “Man, that Andrews kid is a fucktard” I said, but she just said that “Ronnie” (don’t know what that is) got asked to the dance and burst into tears.

Aside – I’m not 100% positive but I think there’s a dance every weekend.

Hate this place.

Feb 25
I went to this place after school called “The Chocolate Shoppe” which I guess is where all the kids hang out. All they did eat hamburgers and again that shithead Andrews was there and he broke a couple of glasses before falling off a stool. I think maybe he’s an alcoholic because what else can explain his behaviour? I guess that’s kind of cool.

This guy Jugwhore was there, remorselessly eating what seemed to be 15 hamburgers. It was kind of disgusting. He’d power through 3 and then go to the bathroom and I’m almost positive he was throwing up. Whatever I guess.

I talked to Betty some more to see if anything exciting ever happens here. She said last week Bruce Sprungstone came to town. I don’t know who that is and I told her so. She just rattled off a list of random names – Tina Torner, Tom Cruisemore, Bratt Pidd. I.. I think she might be simple. I asked her if I could text her and she didn’t know what I was talking about. I asked if I could friend her on Facebook but then she asked if “Ronnie” (I think that’s a person) put me up to this and ran off.

As we were talking, Andrews fell through a plate glass window, again with no reaction. I think his father must be the mayor or something.

Mar 1
So get this. Apparently in addition to being a moron, Andrews is some kind of boy detective or something. These dudes stole a Panda from the local zoo – which is fucked because as far as I can tell, Riverdale is an average sized town of like 50,000 people so I have no idea why they have a zoo, nor how they managed to score an endangered species for an exhibit. Whatever.

Anyhow, they stole the panda and Andrews and his buddy Jarhead somehow foiled the crooks (that’s honestly the word the local paper used – Panda thieves foiled) and rescued something and the city was all over how awesome that was and then during the parade in his honor (??) he somehow released the brakes on one of the floats and killed 4 people.


I’ve started to talk to my Dad about moving back, job or no job because this place is crazy.  When I bumped into Betty I said “Archie Andrews is a clumsy fucking menace and if he so much as looks crosseyed at me I’m going to fucking kick his balls so hard they explode out of the back of his goddamn pants”.  She burst into tears and later that day the principal gave me detention. 

Fuck this place.

Mar 19
Sorry for not writing in awhile, I just got out of the hospital. Long story short, I was lost at school, so I asked this girl Midge for directions. Next thing I know this huge behemoth of a guy comes up behind me and says “You’re talking to my girl!” Before I can say anything, he starts whaling on me. He finally stopped, but I was already unconscious. He broke my jaw, three of my ribs, gave me a black eye and a mid to severe concussion. I didn’t come to for about 36 hours. The doctors say I’ll never fully recover vision in one eye and I have these crazy headaches.

Anyway, I’m pressing charges, my Dad is pretty supportive but he doesn’t think it’s going to go anywhere. I guess this Moose fuck is some football star and the entire town just kind of looks the other way at his rampant violent abuses both against other people and his girlfriend.

This town licks balls.

The Paranoid Parent presents: Tips on feeding your child

February 18, 2010

At the Paranoid Parent, our mission is to make parenting as stressful as it can possibly be.  We strive to remove common sense and trust in yourself and replace it with byzantine guidelines that, while arbitrary and confusing, are at least contradictory and impossible to follow.  We do this to help you – the parent.  The useless, terrified, fuck-all knowing parent.

Today’s topic – feeding your child.

Feeding can be one of the most stressful experiences for a parent, especially in light of the fact that regardless of what you’re doing, you’re almost certainly doing it wrong.

Despite evolving throughout millions of years with no standardized guidelines around childhood feeding, many parents feel (quite correctly) that they are unable to care for their child and are killing them with food.  At Paranoid Parent ™ we offer simple tips.  As always, just remember that if you do so much as one goddamn thing wrong your child will either die, grow up to be a murderer, or seek a philosophy degree.

Top 10 tips for healthly childhood eating

1.  Your child must eat a perfect ratio of protein to vegetables to carbohydrates in order to have a “growing” day.  If you do not perfect this ratio, the “growing day” is lost forever.  This is why it’s a well-known fact that midgets have bad parents.

2.  Follow this simple rule of thumb – Always Eat Dinner Except If You’re Not Hungry But Never Before Bed Unless You Should or AEDEIYNHBNBBUYS

3. Most proteins are good for you except the ones that are not, and science has yet to determine an effective means of determining the difference between the two.  Try burning your food over a bush fire using elm branches as the base.  If the smoke turns slightly red for two non-consecutive seconds, then there’s a 40% chance the protein is bad

4.  Never cut raw chicken on any surface that will ever be used again – if you must cut raw chicken, sell your entire fucking house afterwards.

5.  Potatoes are quick and easy source of nutrit- oh wait.  What?  We’re off carbs now?  Okay, check.

6.  Potatoes are instant death to a child under 5.

7.  Your child’s future is determined by how smugly you are able to announce to other parents that your precious kid “just loves” vegetables.

8.  Your kids can’t have any chips as it’s not part of a healthy diet and any salty junk foods should be avoided.  Oh don’t worry, this doesn’t apply to you, Hamsack.  You just eat allllll the chips you want.

9.  Avoid feeding your children the same foods day after day even if they like them and they’re healthy.  Can’t… can’t really think of a rationalization for this one outside of just being a huge dick

10.  Avoid common sense as there has been no link established between just thinking for two fucking seconds vs. reading random crap you find on the internet from strangers with no published credentials

Lost… again

February 12, 2010

If my life was filled with people who acted like they do on Lost.

(I wake up for work, have a shower and get in my car. On the way, I notice I need gas, so I stop. I get out, fill up the car and go inside to pay)

Me: Here, $35

Gas Attendant: Is that really all you have to offer?

Me: What?

Gas Attendant: You resist the things you can’t change. Yet you look to the future.

Me: Umm… I was pump five? (points)

Gas Attendant: If I were to take your money, would you be satisfied?

Me: I have money. Take it. Here. (long pause) It’s for gas.

Gas Attendant: Would you like a car wash with that?

(Later that day, I am booked for a meeting with the subject line “Talk”. I walk over to Dave’s desk as he booked the meeting)

Me: Hey, that meeting you booked me for, what’s it about?

Dave: We need to have a discussion with you.

Me: Check.  But what about?  Because I have these reports I really need to get out, so –

Dave: I need you to do this for me.

Me: Right, but do what?

Dave: This.

Me: What is this?

Dave: (unnecessarily mysterious) It’s a document.

Me: I can see it’s a document, that doesn’t answer anything.  What is it.

Dave: It’s the very hope for the future (music swells in the background)

Me: What the fuck? Why can I hear music? What does that even mean?

Dave: All can be contained within.

Me: Jesus Dave.   It’s every day with you isn’t it.  How were you even hired?

Dave: The same way you were.

Me: What, Khattar from HR?  He hired you?

Dave: You know exactly what I mean.

Me: No I fucking don’t.
(For some reason Dave walks away as if that would be the end of the conversation. I swear under my breath)

(Later that day, I call my wife )
Me: Yeah, I’m going to the grocery store after work to get the stuff on your list

Brady: It is important.

Me: Right, but I can’t read your handwriting.  What’s the list say?

Brady: It says… that we must make dinner.

Me: No.  No, I don’t need to know the thematic summation of the list, I get that.  I inherently get that.  I need to know, literally, what the list says.

Brady: It says dinner is in danger.


Brady: We all have choices.

(I smash the phone into a million pieces)

(After work I go to see my doctor about my heartburn)

Me: I have heartburn

Dr: Take this.

Me: What is it?

Dr: It will fix your heartburn

Me: Right.  What is it though?

Dr: You must trust.

Me: I mustn’t.  I mustn’t just trust.  That’s disingenuous and frighteningly disturbing if that’s the way you prescribe medicine to your patients.

Dr: Take it.  It must come from you.

Me: Damn it!  What’s in the pill??

Dr: Viagra.

Me: !!!  How does that cure heartburn? How are those things related? Why are you even my Doctor?

Dr: If you don’t take the pill, your heartburn will grow worse.

Me: How do you even know that?

Dr: The same thing happened…. to your sister!!!

Me: My sister has heartburn?  And you fixed that with Viagra?  I very much doubt that.  And isn’t this a violation of some kind of patient / client confi-

Dr: Time’s up!

RIP Robert B. Parker

January 24, 2010

Excerpts from Robert B. Parkers last Spencer novel.  Presumably

Spencer finished putting the final touches on his dinner – a quick Coquilles Saint-Jaques where he substituted a romegano for the gruyere.  Although this particular dish was just shy of 6,500 calories, none of it showed on his masculine 6’2″ perfectly muscled frame.  He was currently wearing skin tight acid-washed jeans and a blue denim work shirt unbuttoned to the belt. He had on black Adidas running shoes and rayban sunglasses.

Susan was coming over shortly, so he quickly prepared a pitcher of vodka gimlets, using 40 ounces of liquor.  Although they would likely finish the entire thing, neither would display any signs of drunkenness.  While he waited he drank four Red Rock beers.  Yum.

Outside his apartment where he lived on his own uncompromising terms, beholden to no one, he heard a commotion.  Strapping on his unlicensed Magnum to his broad back and then pausing to strap on a second and third handgun he rushed to the door, pausing again only to grab a quick fourth unlicensed handgun.

He opened the door

“What’s going on here?” he manfully demanded, quiet yet totally in control of the situation.  A young woman was being accosted by a street punk.  He was a huge street punk though, like massive and normal people would be scared of him.  But not Spencer.

“Hit the road gramps” toughened the punk, trying to tenderize Spencer verbally.  It was unsuccessful.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference”.  Spencer smiled .

“Wordsworth?” wondered the girl, in love already.

“Frost” smugged Spencer.  For despite being self-educated and living on his own uncompromising terms, Spencer was also smart and awesome.

“Okay gramps, I’m going to take you out now and we should fight”.  The huge, scary (not to Spencer) punk faced off.

He swung a lobbing overhand right at Spencer which he dodged easily.  Breathing in, Spencer then hit him 14 times in the face, and finished with an uppercut.  Normally this sort of beating would hospitalize a man and Spencer would likely be brought up on multiple assault charges but in this case, the punk just ran off.

“I’d like to have sex with you” moaned the now safe woman.

“Of course you would” agreed Spencer.  “But alas, I am committed to Susan.  You are the 9th woman to throw herself at me today.”

“Your rejection has left me as satisfied as your acceptance would have” responded the girl, mystified.

Spencer went back inside to have 6 more quick beers and a lobster roll.  While waiting for Susan, he decided to work out and quickly bench-pressed 410 pounds without breaking a sweat.  Then he realized how little TV he watched because he was awesome and went back to reading the collected poetry of the African Tribesman.

Suddenly, a phone call!

Futher updates from the smart, political thriller I will never write

January 6, 2010

Quickly entering the office, Monica and Davis shut the door behind them and turned off the lights.

“Okay Monica” whispered Davis “You keep watch.  If anyone comes, we’re going to have to hide pretty quickly.  I’m going to try and download the senator’s files”.
“What makes you even think he knows about the Pegasus Initiative?”
“He has to” Davis replied tersely.  “It’s the only connection he would have to Ingenium.”
“But they have lobbyists all over the world” she protested “one picture of the senator shaking hands with -”
“There’s no goddamn time for second guessing” he exclaimed “let’s just get the files and get outta here”

Sighing in exhausted resignation,  Monica agreed “Fine.  Just do whatever.”

Crossing the room, Davis booted up the computer.
“Do you even know where to look?” she asked?
Davis shook his head “No, but I have some ideas.  If I can connect my USB Fireware PDA to his LAN drive, I think I can reroute into the mainframe infrastructure and grab core grep files from the Lotus directory”.

Monica stared at him for 15 uncomfortable seconds.  “That doesn’t make any goddamn sense.  That was just a random collection of words.  Nothing you do or say ever makes any fu-”
“No time” he cut her off as the computer finished its boot routine.   “You keep watch at the door – I think the janitor is on to us.”   He started to fiddle with various wires he pulled out of his pocket.   “Where’s the damn Unix interface on this thing?  Damnit!”

Muttering under her breath, Monica walked over.  “It’s just Windows Vista”  she clicked an icon “He doesn’t even have his profile password protected.   We’re in.   Here.”  she pointed.  “Here’s a folder right on the desktop” her voice turned incredulous “unexpectedly called “Secret plans and meetings with Ingenium.”   She began clicking.
Davis laughed “I bet that’s the type of hacking they don’t teach you in philosopher school”.
She didn’t answer as she read the files.  “I can’t believe this.  You’re correct.   He DOES have insider deals going with Ingenium to kill the Pegasus Initiative”
“I told you!” Davis said triumphantly!  “Now lets download these onto my portable iDisk interface ” He pulled out a GPS.

Impressively, she was able to express both dismissive contempt and the concept of wishing he would shut up with a wave of her hand. “I’ll just put in on my memory stick.  They’re just word documents.”  Even more impressively, she didn’t add ‘idiot’ at the end of her sentence.  She started the transfer.
“Where’s the massive red bar that shows overall progress?” Asked Davis out of professional curiosity.  She continued to ignore him.

“I’m bored” he sulked.

Just then, there was an exciting noise in the hallway!!

Excerpt from the smart, political thriller I will never write

January 4, 2010

Davis Kenny hunched intently over his computer, hacking.  All the pieces where there.  The trail of dollars, the hidden secrets, the lines to the top.  It was all connected, and it was smart.  He felt rocked, but he was never saluted first, so it wasn’t it a good way.

He continued to hack furiously away when the door opened – shit – and he quickly alt+tabbed off his current screen, which was displaying information which could stun the political world, to a harmless browser window displaying child pornography.


He settled for throwing his jacket over the monitor and turned to newcomer.  It was Monica Smalling, a molecular biologist physicist philosopher he had seen around the office from time to time.  She was as smart as she was sexy and she had a man’s confidence with woman’s hands.  She didn’t need anyone, although he suspected she harbored a deep secret (a smart one) that made her put up walls around herself.  And she had huge tits.  All this flashed through his mind in seconds, coupled with images of his dead mother.  The whole thing was confusing.

“Kennedy?”  she said surprised, walking into the office.  “What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same question” he responded smartly.
“Should you?”
“Yes” he moved his rook into checkmate position.
“Why though?” she responded.  “Seriously, what are you doing here?  This is my office.”

Swing and a miss. 

Thinking furiously, he grabbed the first item on the desk – a stapler – and showed it to her.   “Just needed to borrow this bad boy” he said.  “Don’t even remember I was here.  I’ll just be on my way”.
“But you were on my computer.” she protested.  “Why were you on my computer.  And why were you looking at… what was that, child por-”
He cut her off quickly “Look Monica, there’s no time.  Do you trust me?”
She looked perplexed.  “I barely know you.   And you’re in my office.  On my computer.  So no, I don’t trust you at all.”
“Listen” he said, thinking furiously “I’ve stumbled on to something.  Something big.  It’s big and it’s connected and it’s smart.”
“I’m calling security” she said, pulling out her cell phone.
“Wait!” he said.  “What if I told you a portion of what I found.  Just listen.  I’ve been doing some research.   Do you know of corporations?”
“Yes..” She paused in the act of dialing
“Right, well what if I told you that corporations… don’t always work in the best interests of the consumer!!!”
She stared at him incredulously “What are you saying?”
He dropped his bombshell “I have information here that shows corporations really just want money.  And the government is involved somehow”
The phone dropped out of her numb, lifeless fingers.  “That’s.. that’s fucked up” she whispered.
“And smart” he reminded her.  She was drawn into his web.  But would there be enough time?