my baby daddy is a fucking scumbag.

Dear Irby and Ian,
My wife calls me at work to talk about our toddler, and gets ticked off when I'm too busy to talk to her. I'm just not interested in EVERY LITTLE THING the kid does all day. So I tell her I have to get to work, then when I get home she's a total bitch to me. What can I do keep her off my back? Help me out.

irby: OH, YOU POOR THING. getting a full night's sleep and uninterrupted shower; stuck all day in a bustling office full of adults with whom you can carry on intelligent conversations and share funny little anecdotes; entering and exiting as you goddamned well please; spending as much time as you want taking a shit while reading the newspaper; emailing and gchatting and facebooking ALL FUCKING DAY; taking clients out for delicious gourmet lunches on the company dime; getting fresh air; working those traps and delts and glutes at the gym; wearing clean, pressed clothes that you didn't sleep in and aren't covered in similac vomit; fondling the penis that didn't have to spend thirty-six hours trying to stretch itself to ten fucking centimeters and force out another human being; having drinks with your boys after the 4pm meeting; making starbucks runs; water cooler gossiping with the hens who answer the phones; afternoon delights with that cute HR girl from upstairs who's always busting out of her tight sweaters; earning all the income and depositing a percentage of it in that bank account the wife knows nothing about in case you have to buy old HR an abortion and some silence; having uninterrupted quiet time alone in your office; listening to something other than yo gabba gabba and caillou on a continuous loop; smoking those cigarettes you promised you'd quit in the alley behind your office; texting your ex-girlfriend about how much your life sucks and what a huge fucking mistake you made and now there's a baby and your parents would be so disappointed if you left your family but life with her is killing you and hey what are you up to remember how much fun we used to have when can i see you i love that thing you used to do with your hips this dumpy bitch and her episiotomy scar are no fun in bed anymore; and, you know, "BEING BUSY." it must be so hard.

my fucking heart breaks for you.

but kids are fucking boring. i mean, maybe not all kids? and maybe not all the time? but i'm going to guess she's probably not calling you to report that junior just ripped his shirt off and challenged a cop to a fight in the middle of a bridgeport bar and was shot during the scuffle, and anything other than that is TOTALLY FUCKING BORING. no one calls me ever, and that's probably because i answer the phone, "SKIP TO THE EXCITING PART." seriously, i don't even say hello. i don't need ten minutes of background, just get to the killing or the fucking so i can get back to eating cereal and taking pictures of the goddamned cat. you know, IMPORTANT SHIT.

i go to all these literary readings and storytelling circle jerks, and the gigantic bonerkillers at that type of shit is 1 no one hits on me EVER and 2 people love telling boring stories. every story should have: gratuitous fucking, angry shit, something horrifically embarrassing that makes you either squirm/cringe or throw up your dinner, destruction and heartbreak, larceny or other criminal activity, or death. at least one of those things. SO I GET IT. this jerk has the nerve to call your important ass at work to tell you how the baby hates peas and the UPS guy drop-kicked her new dishes from crate and barrel and the redhead at kindermusic was rude to her yet again and the carpet cleaning people charged twice the estimate and blah blah boring BLAH.
but didn't you know what you were signing up for? what is it that dudes expect when you wife some bitch up? haven't you ever watched television before? you REALLY thought this woman was going to shit out a kid and then call you at two in the afternoon to breathe heavily in your ear and describe her thong or whatever? women want to get married so they can finally let their shit hang, and once they've borne your demon seed they can let it hang EVEN LOWER. she didn't walk down that church aisle praying not to burst into flames because her whore ass wore a white dress to keep tiptoeing around fucking her knees up in some stiletto heels. THESE ARE HER CROCS YEARS, HOMEBOY. if you wanted some fucking excitement you should've stayed away from kay jewelers. but now that you've got a mortgage you either need to 1 fake your own death or 2 get an unlimited mobile to mobile plan. i'm irritable as shit, so i fully understand sighing and rolling your goddamned eyes the minute a number you are sick of answering shows up on your phone for the fourth time in a goddamned day. which is why i married all of the inanimate objects in my apartment because i love them, very very much, yet they won't bother me with a grocery list when i'm busy listening to shit on youtube.

dang man, i thought the sweet shit about marriage was that finally, I'VE FOUND SOMEONE WHO VOWS TO NEVER GET TIRED OF LISTENING TO MY SHIT. isn't that why you do it? because you found the one person who you always want to talk to? now i have to worry that i am calling the UNDYING LOVE OF MY LIFE too much?! i thought you got to stop fretting about that at the end of dating! i have a hard time imagining it, because people are mostly stupid and horrible, but this is fucking with my whole fairytale outlook; YOU ARE KILLING EVERYTHING I BELIEVE ABOUT TRUE LOVE, DUDE. i thought that you just have to kiss a bunch of frogs until one day you find one that's less slimy than the others who says, "hey girl, every word out of your mouth is fucking genius. you are so much smarter and funnier than i am and you have amazing taste in music. i want to spend the rest of my life letting you tell me what's cool. never stop talking to me." (that might just be me, but THIS IS MY FANTASY. so hush up.) and then you get nine jobs apiece and take out a monster loan to throw a fancy party that lasts for three hours you have to invite a bunch of assholes you hate to just so you can make sure everyone knows how in love you are and is totally jealous of you. then house, babies, death, and so on.

kids are also sticky and noisy and always trying to BUST YOUR FUCKING BALLS, plus they get sick all the time and they cost so much money and you really have to pay your bills and shit so that they have heat in the winter, so i'm going to do the universe a favor and not have any. but i want to kick your jaw off your fucking skull for this. this right here is why NO DUDE gets to do this to me. not ever. sorry to crush your dreams, but if you had designs on me letting your alien offspring hijack my womb for nine months you better let that shit go. trap me in a house with no life and no friends with a little tyrannical asshole who has no motor skills that i can't take my eye off for one goddamned millisecond before she's ingesting poisons and poking her fingers in light sockets and otherwise trying to get my ass locked the fuck up by dcfs? NOT ON YOUR LIFE. i can't call any regular people, because they are all at work. and even if they aren't, they don't want to listen to this little infant bitch caterwauling into the phone at the top of her goddamned lungs because i can't put her loud ass down for one fucking minute. i can't take a shit or a shower or brush my goddamned teeth or make a sandwich or drink a beer because that SCREAMING BALL OF NEED wants a bottle or a rattle or a cuddle or is miserable and teething or rife with colic and can't situate herself comfortably. i can't get my hair done or my eyebrows waxed or my feet tended to, so i am ugly and itchy and sad and tired and fifty pounds heavier than i was before this whole nightmare started because i can't walk more than five feet at a time and my sore-ass nipples make it impossible for me to breastfeed so i'm not burning any calories that way either. not to mention i have a tenuous grasp on my fucking sanity. i am on the precipice of a complete emotional breakdown because i have no one to goddamned talk to. all my single ladyfriends are out getting fucked in the ass by hot bodybuilders, and my pregnant and/or married sistergirls are too busy trying not to SHAKE THEIR LOUD-ASS BABIES TO DEATH. so when i call the ONE PERSON who should be caring and supportive and INTERESTED during this horrific time in my otherwise ruined life, the one person who swore in front of god and a judge and my cousin karen that i didn't even want to invite but mom forced my hand to love every single word that falls from my lips for the rest of my life, and he is "too busy" to give me five minutes of his precious time, forgive me if i am a little "ticked off."

i hope you get mauled by a bear and your baby gets a sexy stepdad who loves law and order: SVU marathons, buying flowers for no reason, giving oral without reciprocation, watching the kid so this broad can take a fucking yoga class, and making tv-watching pajama snacks. seriously, though, someone should stick a hornet's nest in your asshole. you're the worst.