Be My Guest

Welcome to the very first installment of “Be My Guest.” My first guest writer is a young lady named Smash. She’s significantly meaner than she looks. The following piece reflects her opinions, not mine. Enjoy!

The Big Avocado and Smash.

Look! That’s me with Steve!

I don’t like kids, for pretty all the same reasons people cite when they say they don’t like kids—noisy, needy, ruined my favorite White Stripes t-shirt with their disgusting baby barf … I mean, I can’t replace that shirt!

I don’t have to spend a lot of time around kids (which, trust me, is an arrangement from which EVERYBODY benefits), so you’d think I’d mostly be safe. But there’s another reason I don’t like kids. There’s a much more pervasive, insidious evil that infiltrates my everyday life: Kids have the ability to make otherwise normal adults go completely insane.

See, what happens is that once a person makes a baby, the baby becomes the most important part of the parents’ lives. That part is understandable. The part where it starts to fall apart is where the parents become so obsessed with the kid that they think everyone else cares about the kid too. That’s why you can take a well adjusted, socially acceptable person, throw in a baby, and suddenly all the things they would NEVER talk about in public become fair game for casual conversation. If you’re lucky, the conversation is just boring (“My nephew was so excited to put on his new jam jams! He was like ‘jam jams! Jam jams!’ ”). If you’re unlucky, well …


My art director missed work one day to stay home with his sick kid. The next day …

Me: Hey, is your kid feeling better?

AD: Yeah, he was acting all fussy two days ago …

Me: <bored noise>

AD: But then yesterday we realized it’s because he hadn’t pooped!

Me: <snapping to attention> Oh god!

AD: Yeah, that’s why he was fussy! He wasn’t pooping!

Me: Dude, what the fuck, man?

AD: So we needed to get him to poop!

Me: Please … don’t …

AD: Oh, sorry.

Me: It’s okay, but … wow.

AD: Is BM better? I can just say BM.

Me: No, oh god NO, that’s not the point!

AD: Anyway, he hadn’t BMed in like, a day …

Me: <whimper>

AD: So we gave him prune juice! And guess what?

Me: <plugging ears and singing> LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAA!


Walking through the cafeteria one morning at work, I greeted a coworker, a woman whom I worked with regularly but always on a very professional basis. She had recently announced her pregnancy.

Me: Hey, how are ya?

Her: I’m okay.

Me: That’s good. Well, seeya!

Her: I’ve been in a lot of pain lately though.

Me: Ohhhhhh … ?

Her: See, the baby is really pressing on my cervix.

Me: <horrified face>

Her: And it’s just that, well … you see, my cervix is so short.

Me: <horrified face>

Her: Yeah, I know! It’s only like, five or six centimeters.

Me: <horrified face>

Her: And that’s a REALLY short cervix.

Me: <horrified face>

Her: Maaaaaan! What a short cervix I have! Cervix cervix cervix! Well, cervix ya later, cervix!

Thinking back on it, I wish the conversations had gone like this:

AD: My kid hasn’t pooped.

Me: That sucks, man. I had a great big long snakey one this morning. It felt sooooooo gooooooood! But dude was it toxic! I swear even my cats were gagging!

Or maybe something like:

Her: Cervix!

Me: Big fat anal fissure, complete with leakage!

But no. THAT would have been inappropriate.

About The Big Avocado

A bag of chips and then some.
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3 Responses to Be My Guest

  1. buchenmiller says:

    This is funny, because I just found this blog this morning.

  2. Jen says:

    I don’t have kids either and it can be tough. They do make me laugh though. It’s just sometimes the honesty can be a little much.

  3. Ksabhtvz says:

    Will I have to work on Saturdays? Porn Lolita Pedo 020

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