Clueless, Not the Movie

Hey Heifer,

The school year started and you didn’t even bother wishing your boys a good first day. Not when they left your house, not a phone call, not showing up to school. Nothing.

A day and a half later you posted a blurry #tbt picture that your new “soul sister” took of you and the dudes last weekend, gushing over her first, then wondering how your kids got so big. A picture that would have never happened should I have not forbidden their father to go along with your request to pick up the boys, so you can go get crunk with your internet friend.

You’re welcome.

Aside from their grandmother buying their school supplies, us buying their clothes, lunch bags and the rest, you decided to give them new backpacks that were discounted at your work. Hi. I got them new backpacks right before the end of last school year after you kept sending them back to us with ones that were falling apart.

Oh, and once again you didn’t feel it was important to let anyone know about how they’d be getting home for the rest of the week while in your care. Thanks for that.

And you’re welcome, your youngest’s teacher this year is the one I requested last year, because you wouldn’t have given half a shit about it even if you turned the volume down on your shiteous musical choices, and actually listened to what your eldest child was complaining about. Or helped him with his homework for that matter.

You wasted another summer not allowing your kids to play in the yard, because of “all the dog poop”. You fed them fast food. You bought them useless plushy toys. You refused to see them for days after landing home post work trip. You even let them spend your weekend days with the nanny, and in a daycare center, so that you could go to your pole dancing classes and go shopping for cheap stripper clothes that you do a complete injustice to. Oh, and selfies. Lots of those.

You deserve everything that will come to you.



Less Than Worthless

Hey Heifer,

You worthless, excrementitious, sack of wobbly, baloney wrapped, rotten meat.

What makes you think it's ok to abandon your children? What makes you think it's ok to only give a fuck about your selfish needs, while everyone else takes care of your kids' lives because you blatantly refuse?

Was it not enough to figure out your boys miss you when they asked to make up the 10 days you were gone? The only answer you gave them is that you haven't done that in the past.

You diseased cow.

Guess what? Your eldest told me I was right. Disappointment was smeared all over his little face. My heart was stretched, torn, and disassembled.

Normally, after these trips, you would keep them for two extra Saturdays, but this time your "short trip" wasn't enough for you to do any of that extra bullshit, because you've got shit to do, and expect us to assume the regular schedule without even bothering to ask.

You pathetic pile of flaming garbage.

Oh, you have plans this Saturday night? It's ok, we'll take them in. Better for them to be in a clean home where they're wanted anyway.

You can keep your important plans. You can keep your ill fitting, barely there outfits from the juniors department, that accentuate your diaper clad looking rump. You can keep your fake confidence. You can keep your lies. You can keep stuffing your wrinkly face with frozen pizza and double burgers. You can keep telling the world about your delusions in personal growth.

But you'll still be alone and miserable in the end.


I Hope You Die Alone

Hey Heifer,

It's been a while and today I hate you even more.

Did you enjoy your work trip to Asia where your actual business day was a few hours long, while you spent the rest of your time doing luxurious things, like taking bubble baths, drinking yourself stupid, and eating all the Asian gluten that, apparently, doesn't affect you? Did you enjoy your two day vacation to Tokyo where you shopped and snapped pictures of buildings with names you recognize from the states?


Well, let me tell you about the fantastic time I had having to explain to your children — shocker, this never happens –why their useless fucking cunt rag of a mother didn't want to see them for the 44 hours she spent with her fat ass parked in bed, less than 5 fucking miles away.

Fuck. You.

Let me tell you how disappointed and confused they were when the math didn't work out in their heads…

"Wait, so mommy is coming back on Monday?"


"So we could see her on Tuesday?"

No, you'll see her Wednesday.

"Can we spend 10 days with her, since she was gone for 10 days and we were with you?"

Well, considering that in the past two years, every time she's left you with us she has only made up an extra day of the time she spends with you, I don't see it being any different this time, buddy.

"But that's not fair!"

If you feel so strongly about it, you should probably speak to her and tell her how you feel, and if she's ok with that, daddy and I will totally figure it out on our end.

Cue daddy texting her the day before she comes back to double check if she wants to see her kids a day early. Cue her passive aggressive message back saying she'd like to stick to the plan and she'll be jet lagged and k thx. 🖕🏼


"So, is mommy back now?"

Yep, she landed 5 hours ago.

"So, why can't we see her tomorrow?"

Because she said she'll be too tired, so well just drop you guys off on Wednesday morning.

And so on, and so forth.

They're starting to figure out that you don't give a shit about them or their feelings. It won't be long now until their hearts are all the way broken and their resentment boils.

See, if I was their biological mother and I was gone for any amount of time, I would request to have them brought to the damn airport, even if it's just to squeeze them. See, every time their father and I go out of town, we book our trips around their schedule and come get them from your piss palace the second we get our bags.

I'm not saying we're better than you. But we're totally better than you.

And then!

Then, you have the fucking audacity to text us at 11 fucking o'clock of the PM variety, hours before the drop off, to ask us to bring them before 8am, so you can spend time with them before your 9am meeting!?!?!?

You have lost your fucking mind, bitch.

Let me get this straight: You refuse to see them when you have a full day and a half off, and you want us to cater to your "motherly needs" when it's convenient to you. Riiight. So, I'll wake up my fucking infant, and your kids, just so you can shove them in front of a screen while you take pictures and videos of your outfits and post them on social media, only to leave them to spend your day with the nanny? Yeah, no.

You had them at 7:59am. Best we could do.

Go fuck yourself.


How does it feel?

Hey Heifer,

When I came to pick up the kids two weekends ago you were gracious enough not to bother hearing my knocks. Not to bother coming to the door when I was looking right at you moving shit around in the sun room through the glass door. You we so kind to let the dog out from the side door to bark like a maniac next to me through the fence. And so thoughtful to make one of your offspring finally open the door and greet me with open arms. You fucking peach, you.

And then, when we went to pick up party decorations for Daddy’s birthday surprise, your youngest matter-of-factly told me that you’re throwing him a birthday party at a climbing gym this month and that Daddy and I have to figure out what we’re doing for his birthday on top of that.

First of all, he wanted a party at laser tag, but you wouldn’t know that, because you wouldn’t care to ask, because this isn’t about anyone else but you, because you’re fucking terrified of ever being in the same room as me, because how fucking dare I be anywhere near the children I’m raising for you, you dumb cunt.

Daddy and I had to have a serious talk with your disappointed “baby”, explaining to him that parents wouldn’t take their kids to two birthday parties for the same birthday boy, and how would gift giving work then? Luckily, his grandparents, uncle and aunt all happened to be in town this weekend to celebrate with a family feast by way of his favourite cuisine, we even got a private room at the restaurant! And tomorrow, on his birthday, he’ll get useful presents and a whole lot of balloons, followed by a requested trip to the science museum and surprise cupcakes. Eat that, fatty.

You really are pathetic.

How dare you manipulate your children into excluding their family all because of your need to feed the ignorance bubble you’ve constructed for yourself?

Did it feel good when he texted you saying I’m not going anywhere? Did it tingle a little when he called you out on keeping the door closed? Did you think your excuse of preventing me from a leaping dog would work? (Let’s talk about the pick-up yesterday, when your eldest opened the door, and the scary dog jumped on me without ever barking, and melted in my hands when I gave him love and kisses. Let’s talk about how angry you got and started yelling at him to come back inside. Oopsies, did I strike a nerve with that one?) Did you roll your crazy eyes when he mentioned no longer protecting your fragile feelings? Did you throw your phone down when he said to start taking the well-being of your children seriously for once?

Oh, and now you’re interested in taking them to the dentist. BUT WAIT! Not because you care, but because there were charges on your insurance that weren’t covered! You want to be in the know after not bothering to take them to the dentist for almost two years and never giving a fuck to make them brush their teeth at your house, causing them to have tons of work needing to be done, that your insurance doesn’t cover. Guess what, bitch, you can call the dentist and find out when their next appointment is. You can even schedule the one after that yourself. Funny how when the threat of money being taken away from your “self care” fund is imminent, you suddenly want to know what’s happening in your children’s lives!

Mother of the fucking year. I hope your choke on the countless burgers you shovel into your fat, greedy face.


Everything and Nothing

Hey Heifer,

All those sneakers you buy won’t make you cool.

All those clothes you buy won’t make you fashionable.

All the selfies you take and shop won’t make you attractive.

All the quotes you post won’t make you smart.

All the crystals you buy won’t make you mystical.

All the tarot you “read” won’t help with your disposition.

All the fast food you eat won’t make you skinny.

All those Barre classes won’t make you desirable.

All those naked pictures you pay for won’t fool the fool that chooses to see you naked in person.

All those movies you watch on repeat for decades won’t bring back your youth.

All that sunbathing you love won’t reverse the blatant damage you’ve already done.

All the alcohol you drink won’t make you seem less of a loser.

All the music you listen to based on who you want to attract at the moment won’t grow you a soul.

All your new lingo won’t make you less white and old.

All the shit you buy your kids won’t make them love you more when they get older (unless they think the relationship you have with your mother is solid, ha!).

All the lies you tell yourself won’t add up to reality no matter how much you try.


Pity Party Extraordinaire

Hey Heifer,

You sure know how to make me hate you with the fire of a thousand suns.

Not only did you cry a fucking river to the kids’ therapist this morning (you were supposed to see her over a month ago), consequently getting me taken off the email threads, lumping me in with your nanny as “an afterschool caregiver”, protecting your fragile feelings, and prolonging your fucking pity party. You also just fucked us out of thousands of dollars based on your ignorance and neglegence by stringing your ex husband along on health insurance, allowing him to get surgery, for which we will now have to pay out of pocket.

Thanks. And how perfect to do it two days before his birthday! Bravo. You must be beaming with pride.

I am currently taking all the precautionary measures not to find you and throw a burning match in your direction, you steaming pile of diarrhea. I hope you die a slow and painful death. Not a day too soon.

Then you have to go and post this shit:

Poor baby. How precious that you use lyrics to dramaticise your need for attention. All the emojis totally help with the emphasis, too. You’ve grown so much. So mature and emotionally developed.

Fuck you.



Hey Heifer,

Yesterday morning your 7 and 9 year olds casually mentioned sex during breakfast. 

Now, I’m totally into the idea of raising well-informed humans, but you haven’t the slightest on what that means. No, they learned it from YouTubers when falling down the rabbit hole of too-mature-for-them video game you allow them to play day and night. Their formative knowledge of sex is in form of make believe robots and my deepest fear is that they act out what they see on each other, all because their careless egg donor “forgot” to switch on parental settings on their personal fucking computers.

Then, just a few hours later, I was to sit in the same room as you. At the same table, even. For our fated meeting about your kid’s speech therapy progress. 

We arrived way early to pick up the kids and the anticipation was killing me.

Then, late as usual, your thighs thundered their way into our quiet room and you, in all your fruit print covered glory, piercing everyone’s ears with a squeaky introduction aimed at the space across from me. I may have developed a twitch from the screeching that comes out of your face hole.

Hilariously, the two tiny chairs on our side of the table were occupied, so you had to awkwardly waddle to find another one, strategically placing it at arm’s length, and away from us. Was it just me or did your square ass try to swallow that seat? Teachers had to stretch their necks to address you every time and for someone who normally hides, you sure made yourself look as stupid and petty as you really are. This, after the tickles I felt when my name kept being brought up over and over again, to be included in the pamphlet we were going through, and for all future meetings. 

And then!

You decided to tell the teachers about how your kids use their iPads, and proceeded to vomit complete nonsense about the way they like doing their homework and how they like to spend time away from each other. How the fuck would you know? My eyes rolled so hard and so many times I thought everyone could hear them.

I really enjoyed correcting you backhanded, because unlike you I actually spend time with them with zero screens to scramble their brains with. We talk. We read. We climb. We draw. We play. We create. We dream. We cook. We dance. We clean. We fight. We hug.

You. You post shit like this: 

“When you at work and you get videos of your babies riding bikes without training wheels ( just last weekend I was lying in bed stressing about being a terrible mother since they still couldn’t 🙄🙄🙄) But NOW!! 😍😍😍 now we just gotta get some new helmets.”

So… You’re stressing about being a terrible mother, but NOW you’re on top, because someone else did the work for you? Opportunist pig, taking credit for everyone else’s efforts; pretending to give a shit.

But that wasn’t all of it. The world was then graced with:

“today was a rough day. i’m emotionally drained. tomorrow marks 2 years from making the best decision of my life. it’s not easy by any means. but the last two years have brought so much more happiness to my life since becoming an adult.”

Hold. Up.

1) Your rough day consisted of a half day at work, probably watching music videos until stuffing your face full of food. Going to a short meeting where you got to see your kids. Gyrotonics. Shopping. Couch. 2) You’re emotionally drained from what exactly? Speaking to your kids’ teachers and, god forbid, being in the same room as me? Sure. 3) Actually, the two year mark is in two days, you idiot. Last year you were late by a day. Figure it out since it’s so fucking important. 4) You didn’t make the decision, your ex did. He. Left. You. 5) When did you become an adult exactly? Was it when your parents paid for everything? 6) You are the happiest pig.

It’s ok, you can play your tiny violin to get the attention you need. And you can prove your worth by spending money on yourself. And you can earn your kids’ respect by not interacting with them outside of Snapchat and bribes.