Tafisi was the revelation that made sure CLS got dicked down hard last night.
Isn’t she due soon?
January. I figure I have one more month or so of laying the pipe, but really need some of the Dad's on the bored to weigh in here.
BAnus is right. The last month she'll be grabbing cock constantly in hopes of inducing. Grab those titties and nipples as much as possible, they'll start to squirt which will get her fucking going.
Enjoy that because those titties belong to the rug rat for the next 6-12 months. You’re about to learn all about chafed nipples & blocked milk ducts. Not to mention the cooch is offline for about 6 weeks while it heals so the best you can hope for is an unenthusiastic blowie. On the bright side, you’ll be too fucking tired to care.
The first few years go so slowly but then it all just accelerates and is over. We just packed our youngest off to college and are now semi-empty nesters. I give it about two more weeks until my wife stabs me in the neck, in my sleep.
Seriously though, enjoy it. Being a parent is awesome. Other people’s kids are fucking miserable little fucks but your own are incredible.
This is truth. My kids just hit 7 and 4 and time has just hit ludicrous speed.
How to enjoy Husky football with your heathen children:
1.) Promise to take them to a game for two years without doing so because they play soccer every fucking Saturday, even in January. 2.) Finally have the stars align, and you're going to the season opener. Cheap tickets, easy win, nice September weather, perfect. 3.) Splurge a little for tickets right on the front row of the upper deck. 4.) Get to the game, and it's time for lunch. Spend $4,000 on four bowls of macaroni and cheese with pulled pork on top. Neither kid will touch it. "But it's fucking macaroni and cheese! That's, like, all you little fuckers eat!?" "It's not Mommy's (Annie's) mac and cheese that comes out of a box, so fuck you, Dad, and your $15 macaroni." 5.) Early first quarter, 7 year old daughter starts to complain. She doesn't give a fuck about the game, but she's fascinated by the cheerleaders. "They're throwing girls, and they're flipping!" But our sweet front row seats mean the LED advertising ribbon sticks out a few feet, thus obstructing her view to the cheerleaders unless she stands against the rail. Standing for more than a half hour straight is just unacceptable. Now she's on my knee, and I'm one of the "sit down and watch the game quietly" fans. 6.) Late second quarter, daughter sees the cotton candy vendor walking through. She wants cotton candy. "I already took out a second mortgage to buy fucking macaroni that you wouldn't eat. We're meeting friends for dinner after this, and I was asked to bring a dessert. You're going to have enough sugar, and between the jerseys and your pom pom and lunch, I'm already $300 deep into a game against fucking Eastern, so no cotton candy." Turns out, she didn't just want cotton candy. She wanted cotton candy or else. Public meltdown ensues. Yes, fellow Dawg fans, I'm a parental failure and have produced spoiled children. 7.) My mistake of buying said front row tickets on the north side is starting to become apparent. We are becoming four lobsters, the kids are fading, so two minutes before halftime I slip out to the concourse to beat the rush and buy them some hats for shade. Since she recovered well from her meltdown, I cave and buy the little shits the damned cotton candy while I'm out there. Apparently Eastern scores a long touchdown during this time, so I'll have to check the replay for what that's all about. 8.) The third quarter is a struggle. 8 year old son is still all about it, but daughter is DONE. She's too hot. The cheerleaders are on the other side of the field, and she's out of colored sugar. 8:00 left in the third, Mrs. 1to35646456weretaken has to retire to the shaded concourse and spend the rest of the game sitting against the rail with melted daughter. 9.) Feeling guilty about this, I pack up my son and our shit and leave at the 3rd/4th quarter break. About to check the replay to see what the 4th quarter was all about. 10.) Son, who'd been doing great up to this point, decides it's his turn for a spoiled meltdown, passing a vendor with little stuffed dogs and claiming he should get one because his sister got a pom pom. "You got a new jersey, a new hat, the most expensive mac and cheese in the world, and a trip to the city to watch the Huskies play football. I think you did just fine." This is not sufficient, and now he's pissed. 11.) Daughter, sensing weakness, walks all the way through campus to the van, tossing her pom pom up in the air and catching it (more than she dropped it) just to tease her brother, which pisses him the fuck off. Public fight ensues.
How to enjoy Husky football with your heathen children:
1.) Promise to take them to a game for two years without doing so because they play soccer every fucking Saturday, even in January. 2.) Finally have the stars align, and you're going to the season opener. Cheap tickets, easy win, nice September weather, perfect. 3.) Splurge a little for tickets right on the front row of the upper deck. 4.) Get to the game, and it's time for lunch. Spend $4,000 on four bowls of macaroni and cheese with pulled pork on top. Neither kid will touch it. "But it's fucking macaroni and cheese! That's, like, all you little fuckers eat!?" "It's not Mommy's (Annie's) mac and cheese that comes out of a box, so fuck you, Dad, and your $15 macaroni." 5.) Early first quarter, 7 year old daughter starts to complain. She doesn't give a fuck about the game, but she's fascinated by the cheerleaders. "They're throwing girls, and they're flipping!" But our sweet front row seats mean the LED advertising ribbon sticks out a few feet, thus obstructing her view to the cheerleaders unless she stands against the rail. Standing for more than a half hour straight is just unacceptable. Now she's on my knee, and I'm one of the "sit down and watch the game quietly" fans. 6.) Late second quarter, daughter sees the cotton candy vendor walking through. She wants cotton candy. "I already took out a second mortgage to buy fucking macaroni that you wouldn't eat. We're meeting friends for dinner after this, and I was asked to bring a dessert. You're going to have enough sugar, and between the jerseys and your pom pom and lunch, I'm already $300 deep into a game against fucking Eastern, so no cotton candy." Turns out, she didn't just want cotton candy. She wanted cotton candy or else. Public meltdown ensues. Yes, fellow Dawg fans, I'm a parental failure and have produced spoiled children. 7.) My mistake of buying said front row tickets on the north side is starting to become apparent. We are becoming four lobsters, the kids are fading, so two minutes before halftime I slip out to the concourse to beat the rush and buy them some hats for shade. Since she recovered well from her meltdown, I cave and buy the little shits the damned cotton candy while I'm out there. Apparently Eastern scores a long touchdown during this time, so I'll have to check the replay for what that's all about. 8.) The third quarter is a struggle. 8 year old son is still all about it, but daughter is DONE. She's too hot. The cheerleaders are on the other side of the field, and she's out of colored sugar. 8:00 left in the third, Mrs. 1to35646456weretaken has to retire to the shaded concourse and spend the rest of the game sitting against the rail with melted daughter. 9.) Feeling guilty about this, I pack up my son and our shit and leave at the 3rd/4th quarter break. About to check the replay to see what the 4th quarter was all about. 10.) Son, who'd been doing great up to this point, decides it's his turn for a spoiled meltdown, passing a vendor with little stuffed dogs and claiming he should get one because his sister got a pom pom. "You got a new jersey, a new hat, the most expensive mac and cheese in the world, and a trip to the city to watch the Huskies play football. I think you did just fine." This is not sufficient, and now he's pissed. 11.) Daughter, sensing weakness, walks all the way through campus to the van, tossing her pom pom up in the air and catching it (more than she dropped it) just to tease her brother, which pisses him the fuck off. Public fight ensues.
Go Dwags!
I'm pretty sure my people sacrifice their oldest son to appease a vengeful god, so at least I've got that going for me.
How to enjoy Husky football with your heathen children:
1.) Promise to take them to a game for two years without doing so because they play soccer every fucking Saturday, even in January. 2.) Finally have the stars align, and you're going to the season opener. Cheap tickets, easy win, nice September weather, perfect. 3.) Splurge a little for tickets right on the front row of the upper deck. 4.) Get to the game, and it's time for lunch. Spend $4,000 on four bowls of macaroni and cheese with pulled pork on top. Neither kid will touch it. "But it's fucking macaroni and cheese! That's, like, all you little fuckers eat!?" "It's not Mommy's (Annie's) mac and cheese that comes out of a box, so fuck you, Dad, and your $15 macaroni." 5.) Early first quarter, 7 year old daughter starts to complain. She doesn't give a fuck about the game, but she's fascinated by the cheerleaders. "They're throwing girls, and they're flipping!" But our sweet front row seats mean the LED advertising ribbon sticks out a few feet, thus obstructing her view to the cheerleaders unless she stands against the rail. Standing for more than a half hour straight is just unacceptable. Now she's on my knee, and I'm one of the "sit down and watch the game quietly" fans. 6.) Late second quarter, daughter sees the cotton candy vendor walking through. She wants cotton candy. "I already took out a second mortgage to buy fucking macaroni that you wouldn't eat. We're meeting friends for dinner after this, and I was asked to bring a dessert. You're going to have enough sugar, and between the jerseys and your pom pom and lunch, I'm already $300 deep into a game against fucking Eastern, so no cotton candy." Turns out, she didn't just want cotton candy. She wanted cotton candy or else. Public meltdown ensues. Yes, fellow Dawg fans, I'm a parental failure and have produced spoiled children. 7.) My mistake of buying said front row tickets on the north side is starting to become apparent. We are becoming four lobsters, the kids are fading, so two minutes before halftime I slip out to the concourse to beat the rush and buy them some hats for shade. Since she recovered well from her meltdown, I cave and buy the little shits the damned cotton candy while I'm out there. Apparently Eastern scores a long touchdown during this time, so I'll have to check the replay for what that's all about. 8.) The third quarter is a struggle. 8 year old son is still all about it, but daughter is DONE. She's too hot. The cheerleaders are on the other side of the field, and she's out of colored sugar. 8:00 left in the third, Mrs. 1to35646456weretaken has to retire to the shaded concourse and spend the rest of the game sitting against the rail with melted daughter. 9.) Feeling guilty about this, I pack up my son and our shit and leave at the 3rd/4th quarter break. About to check the replay to see what the 4th quarter was all about. 10.) Son, who'd been doing great up to this point, decides it's his turn for a spoiled meltdown, passing a vendor with little stuffed dogs and claiming he should get one because his sister got a pom pom. "You got a new jersey, a new hat, the most expensive mac and cheese in the world, and a trip to the city to watch the Huskies play football. I think you did just fine." This is not sufficient, and now he's pissed. 11.) Daughter, sensing weakness, walks all the way through campus to the van, tossing her pom pom up in the air and catching it (more than she dropped it) just to tease her brother, which pisses him the fuck off. Public fight ensues.
How to enjoy Husky football with your heathen children:
1.) Promise to take them to a game for two years without doing so because they play soccer every fucking Saturday, even in January. 2.) Finally have the stars align, and you're going to the season opener. Cheap tickets, easy win, nice September weather, perfect. 3.) Splurge a little for tickets right on the front row of the upper deck. 4.) Get to the game, and it's time for lunch. Spend $4,000 on four bowls of macaroni and cheese with pulled pork on top. Neither kid will touch it. "But it's fucking macaroni and cheese! That's, like, all you little fuckers eat!?" "It's not Mommy's (Annie's) mac and cheese that comes out of a box, so fuck you, Dad, and your $15 macaroni." 5.) Early first quarter, 7 year old daughter starts to complain. She doesn't give a fuck about the game, but she's fascinated by the cheerleaders. "They're throwing girls, and they're flipping!" But our sweet front row seats mean the LED advertising ribbon sticks out a few feet, thus obstructing her view to the cheerleaders unless she stands against the rail. Standing for more than a half hour straight is just unacceptable. Now she's on my knee, and I'm one of the "sit down and watch the game quietly" fans. 6.) Late second quarter, daughter sees the cotton candy vendor walking through. She wants cotton candy. "I already took out a second mortgage to buy fucking macaroni that you wouldn't eat. We're meeting friends for dinner after this, and I was asked to bring a dessert. You're going to have enough sugar, and between the jerseys and your pom pom and lunch, I'm already $300 deep into a game against fucking Eastern, so no cotton candy." Turns out, she didn't just want cotton candy. She wanted cotton candy or else. Public meltdown ensues. Yes, fellow Dawg fans, I'm a parental failure and have produced spoiled children. 7.) My mistake of buying said front row tickets on the north side is starting to become apparent. We are becoming four lobsters, the kids are fading, so two minutes before halftime I slip out to the concourse to beat the rush and buy them some hats for shade. Since she recovered well from her meltdown, I cave and buy the little shits the damned cotton candy while I'm out there. Apparently Eastern scores a long touchdown during this time, so I'll have to check the replay for what that's all about. 8.) The third quarter is a struggle. 8 year old son is still all about it, but daughter is DONE. She's too hot. The cheerleaders are on the other side of the field, and she's out of colored sugar. 8:00 left in the third, Mrs. 1to35646456weretaken has to retire to the shaded concourse and spend the rest of the game sitting against the rail with melted daughter. 9.) Feeling guilty about this, I pack up my son and our shit and leave at the 3rd/4th quarter break. About to check the replay to see what the 4th quarter was all about. 10.) Son, who'd been doing great up to this point, decides it's his turn for a spoiled meltdown, passing a vendor with little stuffed dogs and claiming he should get one because his sister got a pom pom. "You got a new jersey, a new hat, the most expensive mac and cheese in the world, and a trip to the city to watch the Huskies play football. I think you did just fine." This is not sufficient, and now he's pissed. 11.) Daughter, sensing weakness, walks all the way through campus to the van, tossing her pom pom up in the air and catching it (more than she dropped it) just to tease her brother, which pisses him the fuck off. Public fight ensues.
Go Dwags!
This is basically Story Tim with Swaye: Married With Children
I'm not even a dad but even I know you can't bring both kids to a game at once. Just bring one at a time for a dad/son or dad/daughter outing. Fuck the wife.
How to enjoy Husky football with your heathen children:
1.) Promise to take them to a game for two years without doing so because they play soccer every fucking Saturday, even in January. 2.) Finally have the stars align, and you're going to the season opener. Cheap tickets, easy win, nice September weather, perfect. 3.) Splurge a little for tickets right on the front row of the upper deck. 4.) Get to the game, and it's time for lunch. Spend $4,000 on four bowls of macaroni and cheese with pulled pork on top. Neither kid will touch it. "But it's fucking macaroni and cheese! That's, like, all you little fuckers eat!?" "It's not Mommy's (Annie's) mac and cheese that comes out of a box, so fuck you, Dad, and your $15 macaroni." 5.) Early first quarter, 7 year old daughter starts to complain. She doesn't give a fuck about the game, but she's fascinated by the cheerleaders. "They're throwing girls, and they're flipping!" But our sweet front row seats mean the LED advertising ribbon sticks out a few feet, thus obstructing her view to the cheerleaders unless she stands against the rail. Standing for more than a half hour straight is just unacceptable. Now she's on my knee, and I'm one of the "sit down and watch the game quietly" fans. 6.) Late second quarter, daughter sees the cotton candy vendor walking through. She wants cotton candy. "I already took out a second mortgage to buy fucking macaroni that you wouldn't eat. We're meeting friends for dinner after this, and I was asked to bring a dessert. You're going to have enough sugar, and between the jerseys and your pom pom and lunch, I'm already $300 deep into a game against fucking Eastern, so no cotton candy." Turns out, she didn't just want cotton candy. She wanted cotton candy or else. Public meltdown ensues. Yes, fellow Dawg fans, I'm a parental failure and have produced spoiled children. 7.) My mistake of buying said front row tickets on the north side is starting to become apparent. We are becoming four lobsters, the kids are fading, so two minutes before halftime I slip out to the concourse to beat the rush and buy them some hats for shade. Since she recovered well from her meltdown, I cave and buy the little shits the damned cotton candy while I'm out there. Apparently Eastern scores a long touchdown during this time, so I'll have to check the replay for what that's all about. 8.) The third quarter is a struggle. 8 year old son is still all about it, but daughter is DONE. She's too hot. The cheerleaders are on the other side of the field, and she's out of colored sugar. 8:00 left in the third, Mrs. 1to35646456weretaken has to retire to the shaded concourse and spend the rest of the game sitting against the rail with melted daughter. 9.) Feeling guilty about this, I pack up my son and our shit and leave at the 3rd/4th quarter break. About to check the replay to see what the 4th quarter was all about. 10.) Son, who'd been doing great up to this point, decides it's his turn for a spoiled meltdown, passing a vendor with little stuffed dogs and claiming he should get one because his sister got a pom pom. "You got a new jersey, a new hat, the most expensive mac and cheese in the world, and a trip to the city to watch the Huskies play football. I think you did just fine." This is not sufficient, and now he's pissed. 11.) Daughter, sensing weakness, walks all the way through campus to the van, tossing her pom pom up in the air and catching it (more than she dropped it) just to tease her brother, which pisses him the fuck off. Public fight ensues.
Every girl is different. But i Got it as much as I wanted all the way up until the end. When the baby is about to come they literally can’t move. Can’t. Sleep. But there is truth to when they want baby to come out they will just lay and let you pound them with hopes of going into labor.
After pregnancy is hard though. It is literally like a small Grenade goes off between their legs. I had no idea how messy it was til my first born. Unless you are really wanting to, stay away from that side of the curtain unless you are ready to see some shit. Anyways that stuff all has to heal after pregnancy so expect to wait.
Also the placenta is weird and huge. It looks like crane from ninja turtles.
JFC. This is exactly why i broke up with my g/f. If we had kids and they had half of her temperament i would have jumped off the upper deck. Probably to just brake a leg and writh in pain and agony in a pile of cheese and nachos.....fmfyfe
I'm not even a dad but even I know you can't bring both kids to a game at once. Just bring one at a time for a dad/son or dad/daughter outing. Fuck the wife.
I don’t have kids, but I took the older of my two nephews to the game Saturday. He’s 7, and I can’t even imagine having his 4 year old brother with us. Fuck that.
Every girl is different. But i Got it as much as I wanted all the way up until the end. When the baby is about to come they literally can’t move. Can’t. Sleep. But there is truth to when they want baby to come out they will just lay and let you pound them with hopes of going into labor.
After pregnancy is hard though. It is literally like a small Grenade goes off between their legs. I had no idea how messy it was til my first born. Unless you are really wanting to, stay away from that side of the curtain unless you are ready to see some shit. Anyways that stuff all has to heal after pregnancy so expect to wait.
Also the placenta is weird and huge. It looks like crane from ninja turtles.
Good luck!
Crane TMNT reference brought this over the top for me. POTW.
I'm not even a dad but even I know you can't bring both kids to a game at once. Just bring one at a time for a dad/son or dad/daughter outing. Fuck the wife.
Your last sentence is how we got into this mess in the first place.. have you learned nothing.
Comments
My life is in plaid.
How to enjoy Husky football with your heathen children:
1.) Promise to take them to a game for two years without doing so because they play soccer every fucking Saturday, even in January.
2.) Finally have the stars align, and you're going to the season opener. Cheap tickets, easy win, nice September weather, perfect.
3.) Splurge a little for tickets right on the front row of the upper deck.
4.) Get to the game, and it's time for lunch. Spend $4,000 on four bowls of macaroni and cheese with pulled pork on top. Neither kid will touch it. "But it's fucking macaroni and cheese! That's, like, all you little fuckers eat!?" "It's not Mommy's (Annie's) mac and cheese that comes out of a box, so fuck you, Dad, and your $15 macaroni."
5.) Early first quarter, 7 year old daughter starts to complain. She doesn't give a fuck about the game, but she's fascinated by the cheerleaders. "They're throwing girls, and they're flipping!" But our sweet front row seats mean the LED advertising ribbon sticks out a few feet, thus obstructing her view to the cheerleaders unless she stands against the rail. Standing for more than a half hour straight is just unacceptable. Now she's on my knee, and I'm one of the "sit down and watch the game quietly" fans.
6.) Late second quarter, daughter sees the cotton candy vendor walking through. She wants cotton candy. "I already took out a second mortgage to buy fucking macaroni that you wouldn't eat. We're meeting friends for dinner after this, and I was asked to bring a dessert. You're going to have enough sugar, and between the jerseys and your pom pom and lunch, I'm already $300 deep into a game against fucking Eastern, so no cotton candy." Turns out, she didn't just want cotton candy. She wanted cotton candy or else. Public meltdown ensues. Yes, fellow Dawg fans, I'm a parental failure and have produced spoiled children.
7.) My mistake of buying said front row tickets on the north side is starting to become apparent. We are becoming four lobsters, the kids are fading, so two minutes before halftime I slip out to the concourse to beat the rush and buy them some hats for shade. Since she recovered well from her meltdown, I cave and buy the little shits the damned cotton candy while I'm out there. Apparently Eastern scores a long touchdown during this time, so I'll have to check the replay for what that's all about.
8.) The third quarter is a struggle. 8 year old son is still all about it, but daughter is DONE. She's too hot. The cheerleaders are on the other side of the field, and she's out of colored sugar. 8:00 left in the third, Mrs. 1to35646456weretaken has to retire to the shaded concourse and spend the rest of the game sitting against the rail with melted daughter.
9.) Feeling guilty about this, I pack up my son and our shit and leave at the 3rd/4th quarter break. About to check the replay to see what the 4th quarter was all about.
10.) Son, who'd been doing great up to this point, decides it's his turn for a spoiled meltdown, passing a vendor with little stuffed dogs and claiming he should get one because his sister got a pom pom. "You got a new jersey, a new hat, the most expensive mac and cheese in the world, and a trip to the city to watch the Huskies play football. I think you did just fine." This is not sufficient, and now he's pissed.
11.) Daughter, sensing weakness, walks all the way through campus to the van, tossing her pom pom up in the air and catching it (more than she dropped it) just to tease her brother, which pisses him the fuck off. Public fight ensues.
Go Dwags!
💯 % accurate.
Make you fucks think twice before you go in raw next time.
Props to @1to392831weretaken for fighting the good fight.
Top shelf @1to392831weretaken this deserves its own thread.
Now, dont get me wrong, I love my daughters, but if you dont want 98% of your money, energy and will diabolically drained out of you, wrap your meat.
It's KRANG you dumbfucks.
TMFMTMNTS