Merry Fucking Christmas, BALLERS!

You people suck. Literally (or so I hear), and figuratively.

While you're busy BALLING and beauty sleeping, we parents are suffering.

4 fucking 36 am: an ungodly hour that will live on in infamy in my house, for this is the exact time my bleary eyes registered as my rug rat woke us up with a joyous shout of “Merry Christmas” and demanded that we come open presents immediately.

WTF? Has she no shame? Did we actually need to clarify that no presents would be unwrapped in the fucking MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!!!!!

And, by the way, I thought our great depression and widespread penuriousness was supposed to cure these beasts of their acquisitiveness and affluenza.

Not so much.

So, yes. You self-satisfied kid-free types are still in your beds. You’ll wake up to civilized conversation and $1000 espresso makers while we do the hard work of raising the next generation of world leaders. We are training ours with a new Wii and "Call of Duty" so they know how to be good citizen snipers.

So, yeah: fuck you very much (and, you’re welcome).