Quote:
Originally Posted by Deadlokd
All five kids are home for the school holidays and Count is on placement so I'm pretty much the sole carer. Someone shoot me.
Jesuis fucking Christ someone shoot me. I'm sick of mediating between half assed fucking disputes. I am not the final/first authority on your possessions. They're your fucking clothes. You look after them. I wash them and give them to you. What you do after that is your fucking fault.
When you are cleaning your fucking room make sure it is clean before you come and tell me you're done. No, that pile of fucking orange peel in the middle of your carpet is not clean. Yes, you have to clean under your bed. Yes, you have to at least try to put your clothes away neatly. No, leaving old lunches in your school bag is not okay. No, I'm fucking well not going to clean your festy bag out for you.
Stop picking on your brother.
Stop picking on your sister. Yes you were. I heard you. Stop that passive-aggressive shit too.
Stop dropping your fucking food on the couch! How many times have we told you not to eat in here? Rotten sandwiches in the bin in your room does not impart a 'fine' fragrance.
Shoot me.
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You know, 2 kids are sufficient to replace you and Count. Give the rest away to people who can't have kids of their own. They can raise them as their replacements.
Just a thought.