Retards walk amongst us
...I live with two people who are mentally handicapped. Neither of them diagnosed of course, but given the opportunity, you might find their average intelligence comparable to that of your last bowel movement. They live, breathe and appear to function as normal human beings yes, but let the sinister truth be known - They are here. They walk amongst you. And while their normal, docile appearance may fool you initially, keep in mind that these two slack-jawed, yellow-eyed degenerates who smell like walking talking ashtrays are in fact anything but normal, or sane, or capable of making good value judgements. They suffer from a rare condition called Extrementia, which is an affliction that causes the brain to slowly be replaced by the passing through-contents of the lower intestine, resulting in abysmal decision-making and the gradual descent into being what we in the mental health community call "shit-headed".
Yes, that's right, my parents are moronic shit-heads.
I'm sick of having to dodge from room to room to avoid having to speak to, hear or see the unwelcome fortnightly visitors we get. I don't care that they're disadvantaged wards of state anymore, and I don't care if people think that's cold, or harsh, or any of the other things that people often try and guilt-trip me with. Their presence here makes me unhappy, and I shouldn't have to deal with it.
They're here this weekend, they go back on sunday, then come back on monday, which means in the mean-time I'm going to have several words of what will most likely be loud choice with my moronic parents... probably pointless though. The last time I had a serious go at them over this they dropped their "they have a right to be happy too" line, which is funny, given how unhappy I get when they're here.
Nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it though, and if I make their happy "oh we have children in the house" mood into a veritable nightmare often enough, I'll slowly but surely get them associate having these stupid kids here as something to dread. Have to love your psychology, positive/negative reinforcement ftw.
In other news, because they're here for an extended stay during next week, anticipate more griping. Because the 12-year old boy is a fucking lunkhead of epic proportions, last time he was here he took a shit in our garden before going back to Bunbury. As a result, we have to keep everything here under constant key-lock so that he can't get outside and do it again.
...and they say it's "not that bad" having them. Psh.
Yes, that's right, my parents are moronic shit-heads.
I'm sick of having to dodge from room to room to avoid having to speak to, hear or see the unwelcome fortnightly visitors we get. I don't care that they're disadvantaged wards of state anymore, and I don't care if people think that's cold, or harsh, or any of the other things that people often try and guilt-trip me with. Their presence here makes me unhappy, and I shouldn't have to deal with it.
They're here this weekend, they go back on sunday, then come back on monday, which means in the mean-time I'm going to have several words of what will most likely be loud choice with my moronic parents... probably pointless though. The last time I had a serious go at them over this they dropped their "they have a right to be happy too" line, which is funny, given how unhappy I get when they're here.
Nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it though, and if I make their happy "oh we have children in the house" mood into a veritable nightmare often enough, I'll slowly but surely get them associate having these stupid kids here as something to dread. Have to love your psychology, positive/negative reinforcement ftw.
In other news, because they're here for an extended stay during next week, anticipate more griping. Because the 12-year old boy is a fucking lunkhead of epic proportions, last time he was here he took a shit in our garden before going back to Bunbury. As a result, we have to keep everything here under constant key-lock so that he can't get outside and do it again.
...and they say it's "not that bad" having them. Psh.