Photos
Even though the majority of us here are certified Grade A party animals, I think we can all agree that there are some nights when we just don’t feel like going out. Right? Guys? Hellooooooo? JUST ME? Whether it’s because we’ve had a long and tiring day, or maybe because we went out the night before and overdid it a little and, you know, we’re not as young as we used to be, or there is just something on TV that seems WAY better than the thing your stupid friends are trying to get you to do, there are some nights when getting you out of the house just takes a little coaxing. Some nights when you can’t help but cry and cry and cry and collapse on the floor and make your friends literally drag you to the door. But, as we all must someday learn, there is one thing that is a surefire way to get us out of our crybaby funks. That’s a fact. No doy. But WHO KNEW that this same one thing is something that also gets REAL crybabies out of their own super annoying crybaby funks?!
Awww, Notorious B.I.G. what CAN’T you do?! (Via BlameItOn.)
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Remember when we used to have mashed peas for dinner? #NotoriousB.A.B.Y.
peas are the worst!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtjMOo2zbm0&feature=channel_video_title
But Kelly, who wins in the “silencing a crying baby” battle: the howling dog from this week’s “Petting Zoo” or Biggie? Ugh. Such a tough call.
Definitely a tough call. I honestly cannot decide.
I used to get the same reaction from Facetaquito when I would play “Peaches.” Really ANYTHING by PUSA would completely capture his attention, but Peaches was his favorite. I think that makes me a better parent than these, because mine was at least educational. My kid quieted down AND learned where peaches come from (spoiler alert: a can).
I’m pretty sure that baby’s Banjamin Button Fat Joe.
Never mind, i just checked, 90% of babies look like Fat Joe.
I had a dream Fat Joe killed me in a parking garage. Maybe it was just a metaphor for killer babies?
When I used to work in a lumber yard , along time ago in a time historians refer to as the early 2000s, there was a guy who peed his pants. We used to sing “Lean Back” to him but with the lyrics:
Albert don’t dance he just pees in his pants and
Soils his underwear
(we held our noses shut at this point
Lean back X3
This was a while ago and I like to think I have matured-unlike Hugh Jackman who peed his pants like a little kid.
Dismynightmare is taking notes.
Our first car had no music. No tapes, no cd’s, no radio. We were poor military folk. I would have to sing at the top of my lungs to quiet Kelly down, who hated her car seat. She loved music though, even my singing.
I am so glad my mom doesn’t know where I internet.
“He had such a cute bum.” –Flully’s mom.
I’m a GIRL, mom! Ugh, you don’t even know me.
Sorry sweetie! I’m drunk again!
Hell’s yes. This shizz gets me ready for the WEEKEND! Let’s go to the HOSPITAAAAAAALLLLLL!!!
My dog just growled at the crying baby.
surely the baby can identify:
“got technique drippin’ out my buttcheeks/ sleep on my stomach so i don’t fuck up my sheets”
Love that the dad had to tell us that his fucking infant couldn’t understand the lyrics yet. Thank GOD. I was shocked and appalled at the mere thought that the baby might have been soothed by her sympathy for the struggle.
I was going to make the same point. I can understand why the father would do that, because you just KNOW there is some asshole out there who would be feel the need to be the moral authority on the matter: “how can you let a child listen to such abrasive music?!!”