Hateful, Hateful Tribeca Mommies

Apparently my last posting was too “aggressive” and “violated” some stupid agreement I had made with both my parole officer and anger management therapist. So I ended up back at the smelly hippie “anger management” camp yet again.

And it was worse than last time. We had to hold hands and SING what we were grateful for every morning noon and night. We endured drum circles, talking sticks, rain sticks and regular old stick sticks. Those hippies love their sticks. I had to listen to too many self-indulgent bleeding hearts talk about their FEELINGS. Their stupid, stupid feelings. And I had to eat tofu NOTdogs, which taste like crayons dipped in butt hole.

But now I’m back.

First, I’d like to point out that all you Tribeca mommies sent me plenty of nasty-nasty e-mail. E-mail that is far worse than my last post. Your e-mail was so nasty that I can’t even post it or I’ll be sent back to smelly hippie anger management camp for violating my agreement yet again.

I can say this, however, in response to the e-mail I got from “VintageMommy.”

VintageMommy, at fifty-four years of age you are too old to be breastfeeding. You are not a "miracle of science." You are yucky. Your e-mail name should be DisgustoOldMommyWithAncientLeakySaggyBoobies. You’re going to break your old calcium-deficient hip when you trip on hideous, plastic baby toys. Nobody likes you. Not your husband, not the other Tribeca Mommies, not even your children. Your Franken-Babies are going to grow up, squander your money on charity and join the peace corp. You will have no retirement money left and you will have to go live with them up at their smelly hippie anger management camp.

And I will laugh and laugh and laugh.