You, You, You, Otter Know!!

Look, maaaybe I’m guilty of blocking children’s view of the otters at the marine conservation center.  What is that?  A CRIME?

(Please note in advance that this post is what is often referred to as “a joke”.  Your children are adorable, some of my favorite people are children, blah, blah, blah, etc.  Do not send a Mom Mob after me.  I’ve got enough problems trying to get the Beauty Battalion off my jock for insulting their lie-brows and suggesting that “contouring” is over.  They already wrote “You’re dead, bitch” in bronzer across my driveway and came back later with highlighting powder to really make it pop.)

I get way more enjoyment out of the otters than your kid ever will, and I can say this because your kid can’t be bothered to put down his Nintendo Switch long enough to notice the otters to begin with.  Ignoring otters?!  THAT should be a crime.

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Yeah, we’re all reeeally excited that you rescued the Fortnite princess from the Tetris castle or whatever, Bryson/Greyson/Flotsam.

My attention to otters can best be described as utter otter devotion, and should be rewarded as such by naming me “Honorary Otterkeeper” for the day, where I will get to wear a glittery badge and feed shrimp to the otters from a souvenir bucket that I get to take home with me that says, “That’s an-OTTER story!” on the side with a picture of two otters reading books and wearing glasses.

I would get a personal invitation to the birthing of all baby otters and unlike SOME PEOPLE who have “Little League practice”, I would actually show up every time.

I would give the baby otters interesting names, too, like “Ottermatic For The People”, “And Then There’s Maude-er”, and “Genesis But Before Peter Gabriel Left The Band”.  I wouldn’t give them some totally lame name a kid would give them, like a cat with white paws named “Socks” or the tiger-striped cat named “Tiger”. You’re really breaking the creativity bank there!  What are you, 8?

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Oh, so you actually are 8?  NO EXCUSE.  NEXT!

Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn at the otter tank, Bryson/Greyson/Flotsam – not that you even care!  Your parents are the only ones who are having a conniption over me blocking the tank, anyway.  You were probably here last week and you’ll be back again the next week because for some reason children get to do all the vacation things ALL THE TIME now.

Know where we went when I was a kid?  School.  If school was out?  Home.  You only got taken to an otter tank if your parents had some kind of hideous news to spring on you, like you were moving to Goober, Idaho (Shout out to my fellow Overboard fans!),  or had an incurable form of Leukemia.

Curable Leukemia would only warrant a trip to the McDonald’s drive-thru at best, and there would be no special orders.  You’re getting crushed peanuts on that hot fudge sundae even though you don’t want them, because THAT’S the way it comes.  Hell, you’re getting them even if you’re allergic to peanuts!  “Toughen up, Sally!” is what they’d say as you turned purple and lost consciousness.

If a kid had asked to go swimming with dolphins, any of our parents would have just pointed to the open ocean and said, “Go for it, asshole.”

If you ever, ever made the mistake of saying, “I’m bored!” it was immediately met with, “Then go clean your room.”  (This was a brilliant parental move, by the way.  We figured out pretty quickly to stop complaining that we were bored.)

I mean, for the love of Mike, people.  Otters don’t cut it with these kids?  If your kid is non-plussed by the glorious sight of frolicking otters, I have serious concerns for how they’re gonna feel someday down the road about doing their taxes.

Come to think of it, if I took a kid to an otter tank and they rolled their eyes like, “Whatevs!” I would make them actually do my taxes that year as punishment.  You think third grade is hard?  Wait until you see U.S. tax code.  And I better be getting a fat refund, kid, or your ass is grass.  Orphanage City, sonny boy!

Now, I have heard it’s good to provide children with “motivation”, so I would at least be kind enough to leave my to-do list next to the tax papers:

  1. Take ungrateful kid to that orphanage in the sewer with the scary clown in it
  2. Pick up dry cleaning
  3. Order cake for celebration now that ungrateful kid is living in that orphanage in the sewer with the scary clown
  4. Turn ungrateful kid’s room into otter habitat

(The foregoing are just several of the many reasons I am not permitted to have children.)

All right, hate-mailers, put down your weapons.  I’m sure your kid who can’t be bothered to fawn over otters is going to turn out just fine.  Everyone knows that bored, demanding children only become more pleasant to be around when they become teenagers.  Enjoy your time in Hell, is what I’m saying.

Fine.  So like all old, childless people, I think a lot of “kids today” are spoiled.  That’s a new one!

“The children now love luxury; they have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise. Children are now tyrants, not the servants of their households. They no longer rise when elders enter the room.” – THIS IS AN ACTUAL SOCRATES QUOTE FROM LIKE 450 B.C. SO GO BLAME HIM FOR STARTING THIS

If you want to get uppity about it, just know that for my punishment I will have to train an otter family to change my diapers for me when I’m old, I’ll die with no heirs and will be tossed into a shared hobo burial pit, and the only proof that I even existed will be a souvenir bucket with “That’s an-OTTER story!” on the side with two Winger cassettes inside, so relax.  I’ll get mine.

20 thoughts on “You, You, You, Otter Know!!

  1. I had a professor that was older than Sophocles. The class was talking about where to put a park. His response: “Park?!?!? Kids don’t need parks. That’s what car trunks are for.” RIP Dr. Bartley.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Ahhh you write like my soul used to sing before kids and life shit all over it. Now it’s all Eeyore and assholes over on my site. Keep up with your otters – clearly they are the secret to happiness. I – personally – have always wanted one for my bathtub. Next time hubs shoots me down I’ll whip this out for him.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. We had some neighbors one house ago that had like 7 kids, all blond. FREE RANGE KIDS. Literally wandering alone in diapers. I was appalled at first and there were some actual scares like the one diaper boy following the garbage truck, literally hanging onto the mudflap, but then i noticed that they all learned to ride bikes before the age of 4, without helmets, and were lean and tan and gloriously happy. Their trampoline had no net around it and the pool had no fence. Nobody died (yet), and I’m positive that this clan will repopulate the world after the apocalypse. I’m jealous.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I am all for leash laws for kids. I have had several close encounters with wild otters. One of the last ones was when my Brown Dog saw one in our pond eating goldfish. She jumped in to give chase, but when the three young ‘uns popped their heads out of the water she did a quick 180 and headed back to shore. We left them alone and later that day went back to the pond to see if they were still hanging around. They were gone, but they left little plies of poop with gold flecks on the shore. We now refer to goldfish as “otter fodder.”

    Liked by 2 people

  5. This post is “otterly” amazing, yes pun intended. Why? Because I have three grown ass men who were once kids, lol. But that’s beside the point here, you have a very valid argument, kids who don’t appreciate otters should have their smart phones crazy glued to their foreheads, I mean literally. This entire generation of millennial parents with their breast milk feeding, cushioned cornered, Barney watching, “we let our child express their feelings” shit has gone too far. This is why kids today are unable to appreciate natures gift of otters! When I was growing up (in a dysfunctional household no less) we played on playground equipment embedded into CONCRETE, the METAL slides were baking in the sun all damn day long. The teeter-totter was made of actual wood, splintering in the summer heat which had not been painted in years and the monkey bars were missing some screws that were probably holding the entire thing together! Not to mention the swings composed of industrial chains and pieces of think metal that if not careful you’d pinch your fingers swinging back and forth. So otter watching and even better yet otter appreciating is the pinnacle to surviving a childhood in the 70’s & 80’s. So I’m with you too, I will block the view from small children when I go Otter watching too, those little bastards probably don’t care, it’s their parent’s who will make a stink. But I’m good with that because, one) I’m Hispanic and have instant comebacks, two) I’m a mom so I have comebacks for that as well and three) I belong to the Ladies of Hades assholes so back you ass up!!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. ‘They already wrote “You’re dead, bitch” in bronzer across my driveway and came back later with highlighting powder to really make it pop.’ I’ve had my own rant about contouring so this really made me laugh. Purposely childless, for all the above reasons. 😉

    Liked by 2 people

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