Vigilante Mommy Blogger

I’m thinking that Hollywood should invent a new superhero.  I call her, “Vigilante Mommy Blogger.”  She comes to life, as only a superhero can…through a tragedy.  One day, our soon to be hero is sitting at her laptop doing what she loves – breast-feeding and blogging.  She’s got the baby in one of those baby bjorn, breast feeding contraptions and she’s typing with one hand.  Alternately she types with two, when she doesn’t have to guide the little sucker’s mouth back on to her nipple.  So, Mommy Blogger is doing what she always does, the breast-feeding and the blogging, all the while  longing for a cup of coffee when she hears a scuffle at her front door.  That’s weird, she thinks.  I know Jared went back into the kitchen to start making breakfast up.


A man barges through the front door wielding a gun.  Mommy Blogger tells him, “Listen, I don’t have any money, but there’s my TV and here’s my laptop.  Take what you want, but leave us alone.”


“Shut up,” the burglar says.


Rude, Mommy Blogger thinks.


Jared walks in the room to see what all the commotion is about.  He’s quick now, ever since he lost all that weight eating nothing, but Subway sandwiches.  The rude burglar shoots him on sight.


Jared, the best manny money can buy.


“Jared, no!” she yells.


“That’s right, lady.  I just shot your husband and if you don’t listen to me carefully, you’re next.”


“That’s not my husband.  That was my manny,” she says.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good manny?  You have pissed me off beyond repair.”


And without a moment’s hesitation, Mommy Blogger lifts the falsie cup of her breast-feeding bra, as if she’s going to put it back on.  The burglar does nothing.  The sight of her doing such a lady thing disturbs him.  It’s as if she had asked him to run to the store and pick up a box of tampons.  For a millisecond, he does the gentlemanly thing and looks away.  That’s when Mommy Blogger shoots.  She hits the burglar right between the eyes and he falls dead to the floor.  Mommy Blogger had the mini-gun installed into her falsie cup after seeing that Quentin Tarantino movie where the woman had an AK-47 instead of a peg leg.  It just made sense at the time and she’s very thankful that she had such foresight now.  And that’s the moment when she becomes…




It’s time, Hollywood, it’s time.


Once you become a butterfly, you can’t go back to being a worm.  VMB knows this.  So, she using her ample skills to fight the good fight.  Her first client needs help dealing with the media.  She did one little teensy-weeny article and all hell broke loose.


What you lookin’ at?

“I’ll defend you, titty-toddler lady.”


“Yeah, so what she’s feeding her toddler at her breast.  What business is it of yours?” She says brandishing a machete.  “Do I come to your house and tell you how to raise your little a**hole?  No, I do not.  So, leave this woman alone.”


Sometimes it backfires.  Sometimes VMB defends the Times Mommy so vehemently that older guys start lining up for a breast-feed.  Literally, guys who are old enough to pledge a fraternity.  She wields the gun and tells them to, “Go the feck home.”  But, no one listens and VMB knows she can’t shoot because, well, that would be a massacre.  She already got off once for self defense, but she’s pretty sure she wouldn’t get off twice for laying out a bunch of perverts.  Instead, she feeds them all breast-milk cheese.  It seems to calm them and they all start to disperse, slowly, one by one.


Oh, no, it isn’t? Oh, yes, it is.


Very quickly, VMB catches herself up to speed with the Times Mommy situation.  It seems the Times woman is part of a movement that believes in attachment parenting.  You know, you form a strong bond with the kid when they’re a kid and hopefully that’ll make ‘em a better adult.  Another component of attachment parenting is co-sleeping with your kid.  Vigilante Mommy Blogger has a difficult time helping the Times Mommy with this one.  It seems there’s one other problem:  Men.  And these men get horny at night.  And some of them want the baby out of the feckin‘ bed.  So, VMB has taken to sleeping with the mom and her baby, all so she can pop out of the covers and say:


“Touch that baby and you’ll lose your baby-making pouches. Co-sleeping is necessary says some psychologist.”


When Vigilante Mommy Blogger isn’t fighting burglars and fighting for extreme breast-feeders and co-sleepers, well, then she’s fighting this thick headed company:


“I said whole wheat buns, motherfeckers. And I want apple slices in the happy meals!”


VMB knows every mom needs to feed their kid at McDonald’s every once in a while.  That’s a lot of mommy dollars.  So, McD’s should start serving better sh*t.  No more pink slime and fries made from motor oil.  VMB wants on the mommy blogger as corporate influencer track.  If she could become a mommy blogger consultant, well, then she could get out of this vigilante racket.  And people don’t realize vigilantism is like the Walmart of the crime world.  Why work there when you can work at Macys?


Anyway, Vigilante Mommy Blogger also knows that McD’s has a camp.  It’s a camp for fun and fries just for Mommy Bloggers.  VMB so desperately wants an invite to the McD’s camp.  She blogs about them everyday and tries to take as many instagram pics of her radical fast food holdups where she demands nothing, but whole wheat buns, smoothies, and a goddamn gluten free item or two on the feckin’ menu.  Is that too much to ask?!  VMB doesn’t think so.  She blogs daily about her terrorizing and the new babying (I mean mothering) techniques like ferberizing, which her own mother used to simply call, “Letting the baby cry it the feck out.”


But, so far no McDonald’s camp invitation.  VMB is not discouraged.  She’s also focusing her attentions on Disneyland because who in the hell wouldn’t want to go there.



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Photo creds:  Timesmom, indianwoman, vigilantemom, jared, mom and kid, mcds, mcdsgun, brstmilkchs, gunpurse