Bored Ginger

This post is dedicated to the drunk man I walked past while I was in the states who said, "Hey Red!" And when his friend asked who he was yelling at he responded, "That bored ginger right there." (Either that or, "Hat bow ginger Rhett Butler." I'm not 100%.)

A. No. I was just discussing this with my friend Jess. Give us a freaking break. You know who drinks solely because they like the taste? Psychopaths.

A. Um, no. They use the sound of crying babies to elicit confessions from hardened criminals. Or at least they do in movies. My point is, it's a horrible sound. I don't care if it's your baby or someone else's, it's the worst. We all get it. Even the ones who plaster a big fake smile on their face and act like they love working out and volunteering. No they don't. They love anything that gets them away from their screaming baby and makes them feel better about how hollow their lives are. Not all of us can/want to stay home with our kids. There's absolutely zero shame in admitting you don't want to. Working moms are the shit. Stay at home moms are the shit. Babes rule. (And if you want to work out or volunteer that's cool too. I was mostly kidding about that.)
On another note, what is your baby's name? Did you name him something unique and hip, but also terrible? Kale? Wren? Drum? Maybe that's why he's crying.
And hating where you live...preach on. I get it. I live on a tiny, isolated Japanese island in a house sandwiched between the sea, a burger joint and a cigarette shop. The smell on hot summer days can only be described as Courtney Love's vagina circa 1993. *Cue email from my mom with the subject line "GOOD GRIEF, MICHELE." As I see it, you have three options. Learn to love it, tolerate it, or leave.

A. Human blood and formaldehyde.

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