AssholeBaby

ThiS AFtERnoon, thE only thing thAt WoulD CAlm thE bAby DoWn WAS youtubE ChilDREnS viDEoS on thE ComputER.  So I WAtChED SomE CARtoon SQuiRREl look FoR hiS littlE mouSE buDDy FoR 45 minutES. Oh, AnD thEn bAby pukED on thE lEFt SiDE oF my kEyboARD.  So thAt SiDE iS StuCk on CApS LoCk.  I knoW, you CAn hARDly notiCE.

NoW, thAnkS to hER, I’m going to buy A nEW kEyboARD in A SEvERE thunDERStoRm.  ThAnks A lot ASSholE.

I remember what I felt when I found out we were having a girl.  Disappointment.  I always said, if I ever accidentally had a child, it sure as hell better be a boy.

I’m not sexist.  I didn’t want to have a girl because I’m a guy.  And I know how guys operate.

When that first 16 year old kid comes over to take my daughter on a date, I know what’s going on.  She’s all excited because this dickhead likes her.  But I know all this guy really wants is to take her to a movie so he can stick his hand in her pants and tell all his friends at school.  And I’ll be a shit throwing monkey if kids are going to call my baby “Fingers McGee”.

So I’ve got a plan.  When the first kid comes to take my daughter out on a date, I’m going to sit down and have a talk with him while she’s getting ready.  Man to man Jizz-Filled-Teenager.

I will tell him that I am flattered that he finds my daughter attractive, but I know what he’s doing.  Next, I am going to discretely slide him a list of five other girls in her class that are sluttier.  Then I’ll tell him he’s welcome and to get going.  When my daughter asks what happened, I’ll say “He has herpes”.  Everybody’s a winner.

Phil,

Enjoy reading your blog. I too just fell into fatherhood due to the fact that I got lazy on my honeymoon. My bad. Anyways, I have a 4 month old daughter and she shit in our bed this morning. My question to you is, would shitting in her bed be a proper response to this offense?

Thanks for the help.

Jason

Dear Jason,
So you want to know if you should crate train your baby in the same manner you would a dog?
Yeah I think you probably should.  Let me know how that works out.

Your new fan,
Phil

phil,

i have a few questions for you.
-what do you do for a living?
-i presume a-hole baby was unplanned. if so, what was your first reaction when you found out the lady of the house was preggers?
-lastly, any plans to have more a-hole babies? (boys, perhaps)

your fan in DC

Dear question asking fan in DC,
Work, “shit”, no way.

Toodles,
Phil

          Dear Phil,
          You’re sick.
         -Malloree


Dear Malloree,
Your parents can’t spell.
-Phil


Phil,
Why do you not allow comments? I liked your blog till I realized this. Now your site is just another big advertisement.
-Lauren 

Don’t comment on a woman’s weight.  Ever.  The answer to “Do my hips look big in this dress?” and “Does my butt look fat in these jeans?” is “NO”.  Every. Single. Time.  If you’re a guy who thinks commenting on a woman’s weight is a good idea, then chances are pretty good that you are living in fantasy land where you get all kinds of fantasy pussy.

If you imply that a woman is fat, she’s going to do something drastic. Usually one of three things:
1. Call you a shitbag and beat your ass.
2. Go on a crazy diet that pisses her off, and then take the aggression out on you.
3. Develop an eating disorder.

I’m beginning to think that this weight complex is genetically infused into all females at birth.  After I fed the baby on Friday night, I pinched her thighs and told her they were “getting chunky”.

Whoops.

First she kicked me in the dick. Then she stuck her hand down her throat and puked on my chest.  She’s made herself throw up three times since then and seems to enjoy it.

Fantastic. I’ve triggered the onset of bulimia in a 16 week old baby.

Baby was hysterically crying today and I was trying to calm her down.  It wasn’t working very well.  That’s when my mother-in-law came in the room to do what mother-in-laws do best:

Give unsolicited advice.

Apparently, my “man voice was scary to the baby”and I would have a lot more success calming her if I “talked in a more high pitched, dumb voice”.

F*cking really?  So if I want to calm the baby down, my rocking and feeding isn’t enough?  I have to talk like a douchy little twatwaffle?  No. F*cking. Thanks.  I’d rather hit myself in the dick with a flaming cactus than surrender my manhood to someone that can’t wipe her own ass.

Oh yeah, she calmed down.  Without me changing voices.  I’ve got this parenting shit figured out.

Have you ever had a perfect, euphoric moment where all was right in the world, but something happened suddenly that sent you crashing back down to the shitty reality of your life?

I have. Last Thursday.

I was giving baby a bath. She was smiling. We were both happy. We made eye contact and she started laughing. One of her first laughs. In that moment, I thought “Wow, this is incredible! She loves me!”

Then I looked down. She was laughing because she was shitting. In the bath water.

So I went from having a special moment with her to having a tub full of shit water. Totally rocked my world.

It was like waking up on Christmas morning at six years old. You’re all excited to see what Santa brought you. Your heart is full of excitement and joy.  You peak around the corner to see the presents under the tree.

But you don’t see presents neatly placed under the tree. Santa’s sleigh wrecked. In your living room. Bloody, hacked up reindeer carcasses are everywhere. And just when you start to think this is the worst thing you could ever see, Santa pops out from under the wreckage, looks at you and says, “F*ck you. You don’t get any presents!” And then he blows his own head off.

Yeah, that’s how it felt.

I’m not naive.  Sometimes, I so deserve it.

Lack of sleep over a weekend just means you’re really tired and have a headache.  Lack of sleep over four months really messes you up in the head.  You’re not all there.  You do stupid things.  You start to have REALLY stupid thoughts.  Sometimes you realize immediately how stupid they are.  But sometimes, you don’t realize just how stupid they are until its too late.

Earlier tonight,  I had to change a diaper.  The wipes weren’t on the changing table, so I looked on the coffee table.  That’s where I saw them:

Now, in my stupid, stupid head, the first thought I had was: “Gee, I guess she just didn’t have the time to take the wipes from this container and put them in the baby wipes box.  Oh well, I’ll use one anyway.”

So I did.

About 30 minutes later, I started thinking, “You know, maybe baby wipes and Clorox Disinfecting Wipes aren’t the same thing…”  I checked the back of the wipe box.  They had a picture of the wipes disinfecting a bathroom, a kitchen, and a telephone, but there was no baby ass to be found.  I was concerned so I consulted with my better half.  She was pretty pissed.  It turns out that they WAY aren’t the same thing.

We took off her Hazmat diaper, wiped her with a baby wipe, and let her air out for 10 minutes before we put a new diaper on.  During the 10 minutes, she pissed in the changing table.  Can’t say that I blame her.  After all, revenge is a dish best served with baby urine.

Over on the right side of the page, You can see that I will be answering some of your questions about Asshole Baby.  Here is the first batch:


How does the baby mama feel about your blog?
Thanks,
Erin


Dear Erin,
I asked her and she said “I don’t know”.
Hope that answers the question with the kind of depth you were expecting.


Thanks,
Phil


I just saw your blog.  I got half way through the second post when I realized what a piece of shit you were.  I find your posts extremely offensive and totally not P.C.
-Amanda C.


Dear Miss Dyslexic Life of the Party Amanda,
I’m sure you’re a blast to be around.  I am assuming you are dyslexic because you read the posts before you read the very first thing on the website.  I happen to not be dyslexic, so allow me to quote it for you: 
“Disclaimer: This blog is not politically correct. It is not intended to be. If you don’t like it, feel free to tell someone. Just make sure it’s not me.”  
So not only did you continue to read anyway, you also told me about you didn’t like it, which I clearly said not to do.  Well guess what, now everyone gets to read your email, loser face.  And you have no one to blame but yourself for not watching enough Reading Rainbow.


You just got burned,
Phil

I hate your website. I read every post and they were all disgusting. How could you write that about your own daughter? I pity her.  She will undoubtedly spend countless hours in therapy because of you.
-Anonymous


Dear Miss Fancy Pants Know-It-All Psychiatrist,
F*ck you!  If you hated it so much, why did you read every post you imbecilic dipshit?  You could have stopped after the first one.  Most of the people that need therapy in this world need it because of judgmental douche canoes like yourself.  So I pity you.  But if she ever does need therapy, I can assure you that I will not be taking her to your fancy pants clinic.  Finally, I will be sending you daily pictures of animals having sex, because its totally legal.


Thanks for your concern,
Phil


I would like to add that the overwhelming majority of emails I received were positive. Thanks for all of the questions.  Please continue to send them in to arseholebaby1@gmail.com

I get home from work at 5 pm. So from 5 pm till 6:30 pm, I am solely responsible for the baby.
And at 5 pm, my daily countdown begins. I just want to make it to 6:30 without having to change a shit diaper. A few reasons:

1. It’s the last thing anyone would want to do after a hard days work.
2. Seeing a poop-covered vagina is still a little bit weird to me.
3. There’s a specific art to changing a baby girl that I haven’t perfected yet.

Monday’s Countdown
6 pm: No poop. Just 30 more minutes. My nerves take me into a cold sweat.
6:05 pm: Boom goes the dynamite.
6:07 pm: The words “Holy hell” come out of my mouth. Can’t believe what I’m seeing.
6:08 pm: I start the clean up process.
6:09 pm: I notice that she is laughing at me while I am cleaning her. It’s an evil laugh. It’s a “Look what I’m making you do to me bitch” laugh.
6:10 pm: I have been wiping for over two minutes. I notice her shirt says “FREE HUGS”. This angers me. I did not take her up on the bullshit offer.
6:12 pm: Finished. She’s still smiling with satisfaction.
6:13 pm: Door opens. “I’m home early” echoes through the house.
6:13.30 pm: Baby laughs in a not-so-subtle sinister manner.