Nothing better to do?

Aaaaah yes, the breeder here at work with the freshly hatched loaf is here to show off the proof that 1. somebody actually wanted to fuck her ugly ass and 2. that her and her husband's reproductive organs work. Yay for you.

The fucking thing is fussing and cranking. Yes, everybody is just so glad they get to hear your shit bag. And the constant noise of the traffic oohing and aahing over the thing. Get back to work already. I have an assload I'd be happy to share with anybody who doesn't have enough to do.

Take the fucking thing home where it belongs.

I'm sorry you have to listen to both the loaf and the onlookers all day. Try not to roll your eyeballs out of your head, now.

I hate listening to infant squealing. Makes me wanna shove an apple in its mouth. Mmmmm... Conjures up nice images of baked baby right out the oven.

Squealing babies = me drinking more wine.

I always hate it when new moos bring in the loaf to work for it's first public exhibit. I feel like saying, "Ok, oooh and ahh, now get the fuck out of my way.". I doubt they would do it or stay very long if everybody walking by didn't do the stick a finger in it's palm trick and then squeal with surprise and delight as it does the natural reflex, much like a knee cap tapped with a mallet, and squeezes their finger. "Oh look! He squeezed my fingerrr!!!!!!!". I feel like exclaiming, " All right already, the kyd isn't a paraplegic, can we get back to work now?" Then every woman in the vicinity, young and old (except me) will have to pick it up, cradle it, wander around with it in her arms, etc......gag infintum. Then if you are lucky, they stay long enough for a pass the baybee feeding, which of course includes vomit rags and liquid belches. As a finale', we have the newborn diaper change on a desk. The kyd might be small, but it's shit is deadly and has the odiforous stench of milk-shit, baybee powder, and butt wipes, which is a sweet and purely sickening combination and lingers for hours.

Then we have the passers-by, vendors, customers, employees from other departments, delivery men, and salemen, etc,,, who all feel compelled to make predictable remarks; "Oh, he DEFINATELY has your eyes!" This of course sparks an immediate and predictable reflex from moomie that OH NO, "He looks JUST like his father, when HE was a baybee", followed by a roomful of people who know the moomie and the baybee duddy who will agree in unison that, "YES, he does look just like his duddy". It's VERY important that the physical paternal traits are noticed and/or acknowledged by all, lest anyone think it isn't the husband's bio kid, but instead maybe the bosse's or the guy in the next cubicle. It's just as much society's fault this goes on as the moomies', because if people ignored new baybees, then moomie would fold up her pack n play and go home, where she CLEARLY belongs.

I NEVER pick up, hold, play with, ohh and ahh, say any predictable things like how it looks like it's ugly father, say it's cute, take pictures, ask questions, etc...........during a baybee's first showing, or any subsequent one for that matter. I remain completely detached and continue working as if I am completely engrossed in my work, regardless of offers to hold it, pet it, stick my finger in it's hand, etc.....NO THANKS, I am not interested.

KK, I have to be honest with you. When you first came to this board, I thought your posts were a trifle pedantic. But, I read them, and I started to feel like they were one of those foods that you can eat a whole plate of just trying to figure out if you like them, and now I'm totally hooked.

:yr

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"I have learned that pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is easy and fun as hell"

:eatu

poofy_puff Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> KK, I have to be honest with you. When you first
> came to this board, I thought your posts were a
> trifle pedantic. But, I read them, and I started
> to feel like they were one of those foods that you
> can eat a whole plate of just trying to figure out
> if you like them, and now I'm totally hooked.
>
> :yr


Thanks Poofy, but I never intend to go on and on like I do sometimes. It just seems like once I get started, I can't stop. I think that breeders are to blame because I have had to keep silent for SO many years, that my mind has had plenty of time to fantasize about what I would like to say to them and to silently simmer over their selfishness and me me me attitudes the minute the piss stick turns the palest shade of pink. I think what I am experiencing is kinda like a volcanic eruption, only instead of spewing gasses and molten lava, it's sheer annoyance and near hatred of breeders and their attitudes, activities, actions, and ways of life.

Come on, K, we all know you're just a bitter selfish person who always wanted one and couldn't. Come clean.

luv ya. You are the BF Scholar.

I can tolerate brief interruptions; it's part of being polite. The problem is, the loaf parades are never brief, are they?

I have to say I am fortunate in my work situation. Everyone I work with has kids, but you'd never know it. My boss has a reputation as a hard ass because he expects you to do your job. Thankfully, most of my co-workers don't yap incessantly about their brats.

I've seen the child of the boss two levels up. His wife came in to get him and they were going out to lunch. It was a hey, I'd like you to meet my wife and kid, situation. His kid was polite; his wife was nice and I didn't see a problem with it.

My situations involve people who are workers who happen to be parents, not parunts who happen to be workers. Therein lies the difference. My co-workers realize they are there to do a job, and work isn't some Big Huggy Bear place that exists so you can parade around your flesh loaves and Feel Good About Yourself(TM) because your glands worked, and it certainly isn't a damn daycare. Brats belong at home or in daycare, not where people are working.

Contrast that will a woman whom I'll call Ultimate Breeder Moo, who works in another department. UBM talks about her keeed 24/7. Every conversation is about how spayshul and smart her kid is. (Funny thing, he's almost 5 and she recently expressed her frustration with toilet training. It appears that GeniusBoy isn't taking to the potty, and he perfers to shit in a closet. Sounds like he's a genius, right?)

When Moo had her second loaf, I saw her parading it around at about 9 a.m.. She went from department to department. I saw them in the cafeteria at lunch and I even saw them at 3:00 in the afternoon. Seriously. SIX FREAKING HOURS of the Loaf and Toadler parade. Even the parents were disgusted.

Lurking Breeders, THAT is the problem. At a place of employment, it's okay to take satisfaction and pride in the work you do. But nobody should have to pretend that your kid is at all germane to the work situation.

If having kids was the right choice for you, I'm happy, but really, the fact that your reproductive organs worked shouldn't be a constant factor at work.

And I know stuff comes up, but I appreciate reciprocity. I'll cover for you if your kid is sick; you cover for me if my cat or mom or dad needs to go to the doctor. Stop with the partonizing and acting as if your child is more special than anybody else's problem.