In-Laws Rant: Aspertame and BPA

As you sit there, sipping your aspartame laden colas and teas from your polycarbonate palm-tree sporting tumblers and preach to me how:

• "All your housewifery woes would be solved if you would only STOP breastfeeding already and switch to FORMULA!" (probably fed from a polycarbonate bottle boiled in bleach).
  

• "And really, you should give up your evening glass (OK, maybe two) of red wine and switch to PILLS" (chock full of synthetic whothefuckknowswhat!)
  

• "Well, I got shoved around, I don't know what YOU'RE so upset about. And in fact, it's probably your fault because you provoke him by not going back to work." (Hey, what the fuck did you do while "raising" your kids that makes you think that rearing a child is not work in itself? Oh wait, that's right - you dumped them off on your in-laws that you were living with or next door to, or let your other kids "look out for" each other while you were off tanning and playing bridge and preaching to the rest of the world about how they were horrible sinners that were going to rot in hell. Oh yeah, no wonder you have NO FUCKING clue what REAL motherhood entails. But you have conveniently forgotten all that now)
  

• "But I was just going to brush my teeth and change into my pajamas." (YOU LEFT A SIX MONTH OLD BABY CRAWLING AROUND IN A COMPLETELY NON-CHILDPROOFED ROOM WITHIN 5 SECONDS OF CERTAIN DEATH IN MULTIPLE DIRECTIONS.)
  

• "You say you don't have the time or energy to walk the dog while strolling the baby to the mailbox halfway across the apartment complex everyday? (Actually, FYI - I traverse the entire complex several times a day, which is why you envy my perky apple butt, BUT, I do not always have the time or energy to actually STOP and OPEN the mailbox because I fear another envelope stuffed full of clippings on why clutter is a road sign to mental illness, or perhaps a list detailing every last dollar you spent on helping our new family in the past year. Yeah, there are LOTS of reasons why I don't want to check the mail and many of them involve your return address.)
  

• "Oh, just leave the baby in his crib while you go get the mail, he'll be OK..." (ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS??? I mean, REALLY - ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, people??? And I use the term "people" loosely...)

• "Well, how was I supposed to know I should be quiet?" (uhhhh, I dunno, mabye because I had dimmed lights, turned TV waaaaay down and was nursing my infant son to sleep - HELLOOOO, anybody home!!??) "But I was just clapping for McCain, this election is very important to ME!" (NUFF SAID OMFG like gag me with your silver spoon or something, FFS!!!)
  

And before you can finish gulping down your tumbler of toxic judgment, you begin to bitch and whine about your children not talking to you or visiting anymore, your husbands who left you decades ago, your figures and waistlines that left on a one-way train to neveragainland with no forwarding address.

To YOU, you miserable old crones, I raise my chalice and toast you, Generation-Idiot, for making the rest of us shine like illustrious gems.

In other words, SUCK IT, BITCHES!!!
DQFFS!