Moronic encounters

In my training class, there is a dude that drives me bonkers. He is the posterchild for stupidity. Here's a few of my gripes: he pronounces height as heighth, falls asleep during training, makes assanine quips and my favorite of all (and this is the one that began my silent fuming): he's expecting 2 kids. They're not twins.

Also, in my training class is this idiots female equivalent. She has boldly and unashamedly confessed to burning down her own house and has taken advantage of Rainforests* requirement that you have at least a high school diploma OR equivalent to be hired. She scoots in under the 'or equivalent.'

My trainer may be intelligent, but that is greatly overshadowed by just how annoying he is. He has a soundboard with, seemingly, ONE sound. And he takes advantage of that sound, even when not applicable. For example, in the middle of an online activity, the class would hear "That was easy" 12 times, without absolutely any prompting. One day I tallied, 19 'That was easy's' in 18 minutes. Plus, he likes to engage in conversations with the training assistance about breastmilk. Hello, HR? Yes, I'll be needing your assistance in Training Room A.

Which brings me to my next point; I, in general, am an HR nightmare. I have a very hard time using the filter at work. It's not that I can't distinguish between appropriate and inappropriate, but I won't adhere to a sexual harrassment policy at the expense of great comedy. So if an off color comment about your jugs is due, I'll be the first pipe up. Having said this, I cannot keep track of all the bullshit I hear and cringe at. Is describing something as 'gay' that clearly isn't gay but rather a waste of time, not offensive? What about the chick wearing clothing that is clearly designed for juniors; where skin is falling out of places that should be secured? Either I've become more conservative, or I've yet to encounter this brand of offensive.

I'm finding it difficult to adjust to 9-5 call center life again. For 2 years, I was able to choose who I surrounded myself with and didn't have to 'get along' with someone for the sake of my job. I'm not sure if a steady paycheck is worth all the mental energy I spend berating the morons around me. We'll see...

*name changed to save my ass from getting fired in the off-chance this blog is ever discovered by the appropriate authority

Isn't laughter the best medicine?

Last year when Thibault or Clément got sick and feverish, I was able to avoid administering suppositories. I simply explained to their mom that I have no idea what to do with that bullet-shaped pen cap. This year, I wasn't so lucky. Both kids had fevers at the beginning of the school year. It seems that instead of manufacturing chewable children's aspirin, the French find it more effective to just shove a hardened cream up their ass. I can wrap my mind around this concept for babies, however when I approach a child with a suppository and they immediately drop trou and assume the position, I believe this is an indicator of being old enough to receive your medicine orally. I feel like I've become far too acquainted with my boys assholes. The mind-bending dichotomy comes in that their dad has begun to encourage their modesty and asks them to avoid letting me see them naked. Evidently, full frontal nudity is too imposing but shoving things through the back door is acceptable.

There's Something About Dylan

I did some babysitting last night (I love that this is how I make my living by the way, as if I'm still 14 years old...) for 3 boys. The middle kid, 4yo Dylan, is obsessed with the following: penises, butts, farts, burps and swear words; which is why he is, by far, my favorite of the three. At the end of the night, I asked him to go upstairs and put on his pj's and I'd be up in a second. When I approached his room, he was standing in the doorway with his hips jutting toward me. Reflexively I looked to find he'd managed to pull both penis and balls above the waistband of his underwear. And he's screaming at me, "LOOK! LOOK AT THIS!" and pointing right at it, as if I could possibly not notice. I gave him a high-five for originality. I can honestly say in 28 years, I've never seen this.

I wish I could have done more babysitting for this family (they're moving to England next week) because I have such a good time being a juvenile boy. Before Dylan and his 8yo brother Jacob went to bed, I warned them that if something stank in the morning, it'd probably because I planned to sneak in while they were sleeping and fart on their pillows. They thought that was hilarious and gross; admittedly it is.

I stayed over so that this morning I could have breakfast with the whole family. I knew we were having pancakes, so I told Dylan that his was coming with ketchup on it. He freaked out, and ran into the kitchen to tell his dad that he did NOT want ketchup on his pancakes. His dad was totally confused, and I was laughing my ass off in the living room overhearing this. Where has this kid been all my life?

Dead baby jokes are funny, right?

In April I spent 10 hellish days taking care of 3yo twins in the south of France. Each night I either passed out from exhaustion or cried myself to sleep from frustration. On the 10th day, I vowed to never EVER spend time alone with what I assume to be God's punishment for my atheism. 3 months later, I still get chills when I see those brats, even though they're angels when they are with their regular nanny.

Cut to this morning when I received a call from their mother, proposing a week in the south of France with the twins again. My first instinct is to hold my cell phone directly in front of my face and bellow, "FUCK YOU!" However, I'm becoming increasingly anxious that my bank statements consistently show only double-digit balances and I'm moving to NY in the fall and have two trips coming up this summer. Now, I can understand why Mexicans will illegally work in slaughter houses. The need to make ends meet far outweighs the probability that you'll lose a finger or get a smattering of intestinal blood in your eye. There's really no chance I'm at stake for either of those consequences, but I can't say the same for the twins.

Empty threats?

Last night I babysat for a woman I met at the boys' school. She has 3 boys: 7, 4 and 20 months. The baby is a dream, but the older boys are obsessed with farting and burping. I mean to say, they can't get a sentence out without punctuating it with an actual fart and/or burp or making reference to it. The 7yo, Jacob, burped 3 times during dinner, and they were fucking impressive. I nicknamed him The Belcher, but for reasons unknown, he took offense.

We were going through the bedtime routine, and while I'm changing and attending to the baby, 4yo Dylan refuses to put on his pj's. He was being such a dick about the whole thing that I put him to bed early. When I came back downstairs, Jacob asked if that's how I do things at my house; put kids to bed early as punishment. I told him that normally I don't have to punish my kids because they do what I say. And then Jacob asks, "Why?" What a bizarre question. Why do they obey me? Because I'll break they're fucking teeth if they don't! I told him it starts with going to bed early, and if the dissonance persists, the consequences become more severe. We've had a lot of unplanned visits from the Tooth Fairy. Consequently, when I told Jacob it was time for bed, he didn't give me any friction over it. Coincidence?

The Helen Keller Theory

Thibault has a hard time differentiating between words with 'th' sounds and 'f' sounds. He will often pronounce 'through' as 'frough' and this bugs me to no end. He can clearly hear the distinction when I say it, but then he'll insist that he's repeating it exactly like me. Clément just rolls his eyes. One night at dinner, we were discussing ways to die (again) and he must've said something about me tickling him to death. Only he said, I would tickle him to deaf. I thought that was an interesting concept. To be tickled to deaf. Can you imagine being a kid, and your uncle starts getting crazy with the tickle monster character, and you think, "If he keeps this up, I'm going to pee my pants!" but instead you just stop hearing?

A few honest words

Thibault called Clément a douchebag this morning. I had a mild cardiac arrest, then emphatically asserted, "We do NOT say douchebag. Definitely not. That's a pretty bad one." Clément insisted I define douchebag. Everytime Clément said douchebag, my heart raced a little faster. "Quit saying it! I'll tell you what it means in 9 years." And when I asked Thibault where he heard that word, he told me he heard me say it. I almost slapped his face. I know I haven't said this word in front of them. I've let a few things slip here and there, but never a 'douchebag.' I felt like the dad in those old commercials about marijuana. Dad confronts teenage son about the pot he found in his backpack. Teenage son said he learned it from Dad. Dad looks shocked and ashamed. But I'm not Dad because I really didn't say it!

I'm positive this is another word he learned in the halls at school. It's frightening to me that 12 year old kids go around calling each other douchebags. The problem is that Thibault's vocabulary is stunted as it is, so instead of learning creative adjectives to describe his friends, he's being lazy and resorting to words such as douchebag. I think this is what bothers me most. My mother used to suggest medical terms to verbally abuse the kids that picked on us at school. So when someone said, "You're stupid!" we could retort, "Oh yeah? Well why don't you go duffocate in your backyard!" In which case, the other person would usually walk away confused about what it was I actually suggested they do in their backyard. I am a big proponent of a well placed 'douchebag' but if that's the only word you can conjure up to verbally assault someone, then we have some work to do.