Ode to Cartman.

Good news, nobody!  I’m back!  (Shout out to Professor Farnsworth.)

So, you know how I was talking about excuses a while back?  Okay, well, I was talking about excuses a while back, try to keep up.  No? How dare you.  Well, I’m going to keep typing anyway. Take that.

I have said that the ultimate excuse was I don’t feel like it.  And I was right it is.  But I remember that there is a phrase that is even fresher than I don’t feel like it.  Here it is:

“Screw you guys, I’m going home.” –Eric Cartman

cart

Here’s the deal with that.  At some point in all of our lives, every last one of us has wanted to go home.  Too bad for us, only in childhood has actually saying so been acceptable.  Only as a kid do you get to be so fed up that you can get up, get your crap (ball, jacks, jumprope, rocks, sticks, Idunno, depends on the tax bracket in your childhood home) and, when stuff wasn’t going down that you didn’t like, you were like, “I’m going home.” And you bounced.

At what age did this cease to be okay?  At what age do we stop feeling like it’s okay to get out of a situation we don’t like and decide to go home? No seriously, I’m asking.

For me, never. I will ALWAYS get my ball and go home.  ALWAYS.

Because.

Home is the one place where I know without a shadow of a doubt that the rules won’t change up on me.  I might not LIKE the rules, but they won’t change up on me.  Even going into the teenage years, I know who my kids are and while I might have to tweak things, I know who and what those things are.

And then there’s the “screw you guys” part.  I don’t cuss.  So that’s about as hard of language as you’re going to get out of me.  But it says everything I want to say.  Like, “I’m not about to entertain anymore of your foolishness at all whatsoever. Therefore, associates,  I’m going home.”

It helps that, despite my numerous complaints about my family on this blog, I like being at home. With those same people that I live with.  Some of whom I gave birth to. I like them, kinda.   I really do.  It’s the one place where I can be completely awful and everyone has to deal.  YES, THEY WILL DEAL.  Also, I am awful more often than not.  If someone asks me what I’ve been up to, I say, “Oh, just hanging around being awful.”  For some reason people find that funny. (I am not being funny.  I was actively being awful until I was so rudely interrupted.)

Look, I just think that more of us should feel comfortable saying that we are sick of the B.S. and we are going to home.  To people that love us.  Despite our B.S.

Also, this is for those that don’t think the police don’t be on some B.S. sometimes.  Thought I’d reiterate.

 

 

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