Because Someday When I Have Children, I Will Use Them To Continue And Further My Reign Of Chaos.

And so I will teach them the wrong words for things.


I will tell them that pudding snacks are called "anthrax" and that they should ask their teacher if they can share with the class.

I will tell them that cologne is called "a condom" and tell them that if someone smells pretty, they should ask if they're wearing it.

I will tell them that my uterus is called "someone else's shopping cart" and thats where our new baby came from.

I will tell them that their father's profession is "incarcerated."

I will teach them to play chess and tell them it's called "concentration camp" and that Mommy always beats them at it.

I will tell them that Grandmother's house is called "Hell" and that they are allowed to bring one friend (besides Mommy, who will of course be going).