Children in Los Angeles are like accessories. Hot new Marc Jacobs purse, check. Iced Grande Latte, check. Child in a ridiculously adult outfit, check.
Per capita, Los Angeles has less children than your average American city, and for that reason some of us become desensitized to the little buggers. So when they invade your personal/public space, it’s like a dog whistle or a sudden outbreak of hives driving you to distraction.
Today, I happily sat in the local coffee shop working when some white people showed up with their cute little boy. He was wearing shorts and rain boots. I smiled. Then he sat right next to me, then he started to talk, then he didn’t shut the fuck up, then he started to jump on the chair next to me, then he spilled his vanilla ice blended all over the fucking leather club chair all while his oblivious mother stood there waiting for her Americano. Are you kidding me lady? Really? You aren’t going to regulate on this shit? And do you think it’s a good idea to give you hyperactive ADD child more coffee?! Cause let me tell you something, that kid needs a cachetada more than he needs a treat for the way he is behaving. You need to spank him and if you don’t, I’ll do it for you. Really, I’m happy to help out so that me and the other twenty people in the coffee shop don’t have to hear his high pitched screams and tantrums. And after I slap him, I’ll slap you. Pendeja.
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3 comments:
I bet you that kid doesn't know about the chancla that turns corners!
Fucking kid. He AND his mom need to be pinched right by the elbow --that part of your body that hurts like a mofo when grapsed between your mom's suprisingly strong grip -- AND subjected to a cucharon beat-down.
fo'sho to both of you guys. The chancla that turns corners still sits in my mom's closet. Sometimes it tries to wiggle out of it's shelf when I get mouthy and I have to shove it back under her tennis'!
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