Ladies and Gentlemen, we have ourselves a brand new JagAss.

I went to a birthday party for the 5-year-old daughter of some friends of mine today. I go into situations like these with a certain measure of paranoia for a couple of reasons…

1) You really shouldn’t cuss around kids. This is a problem for me because I swear like Richard Pryor on fire. It also doesn’t help that the word “discipline” does not exist for modern parents, so these kids are running around doing things that would make Mary Poppins shout, “Stop choking the dog, you little fuckers!”

2) 5-year-old children are all crotch height. Imagine two controlled enviroments, Jag’s Daily Life and Child’s Birthday Party. The two aren’t as different as you might imagine, because Jag’s Daily Life does contain its share of video games, crying fits, and puke. The biggest difference, however, is that the moment I strolled into Child’s Birthday Party, the chances of Testicular Impact increased by approximately 800%.

So I wasn’t at all comfortable when I rang the doorbell. What was cute about this party is that Ashley, the birthday girl, was dutifully playing the part of hostess. She answered the door, ushered me inside, showed me where to put my coat, and offered me a drink. It was absolutely adorable, even though the drink was non-alcoholic. And she did it all without hitting me in the balls, which is always a plus.

Anyway, back to our new JagAss. Her name is Ashley’s Friend’s Mom. “Ashley’s Friend’s Mom” is a lot to say, so let’s just call her Fuckwit. Trust me, it’s appropriate.

At one point during the party, Ashley’s father made large amounts of Ashley’s favorite dessert, which is kinda like a milkshake, and Ashley was passing out small cups of it to all the guests. When Ashley approached Fuckwit, this woman turned up her nose, assumed the “Talk to the Hand” position, and said, “I don’t think so. I’m lactose intolerant.” Ashley, being just 5 years old and therefore unable to speak Bitchenese, offered the cup to Fuckwit anyway. Fuckwit rolled her eyes, accepted the cup, then turned and poured it into the sink.

The room suddenly fell silent, except for one guest who mumbled something under his breath that rhymed with “Cucking Funt.” This particular guest was very charming and witty, and he looked an awful lot like me. Judging by the upset look on her face, Ashley concurred.

Let’s start with what Fuckwit said. First of all, “I’m lactose intolerant” isn’t a very lady-like thing to say, because what she really announced to a room full of strangers was, “If I drink that, I’ll get the stinky squirts.”

And second, lactose intolerance is bullshit; just one of a million phony illnesses overpriveleged Americans invented so people will feel sorry for them. Is it a real thing? Sure it is, just like gas, athlete’s foot, and acid reflux. It’s not a big deal. Take a pill and shut the fuck up.

Then there’s the casual dismissal of this beautiful little girl’s attempt to play hostess at her own birthday party. All Fuckwit had to do was accept the cup, offer a little show of gratitude, and take a small sip. I mean look at me. I’m a prick pretty much 24/7. This drink tasted weird, was ice cold, and looked like snowman vomit. But even I drank two of the damn things just to see the kid smile. It was an honest gesture, only partially intended as a “please don’t hit me in the balls” bribe.

So Fuckwit is our new reigning JagAss. If you see her on the street, please feel free to smack her around and make her drink a gallon of expired milk.

Tags: major bitch, bad behavior, jackass