Hey. !@#%@ Mom.
Grow some balls and trim my fingernails. With fingernail trimmers. It’s demeaning to have you bite my nails to shorten them. I mean, come on. I realize my nails are paper $^!# thin and still attached to my skin and the chance of you clipping me is high, but still. Come on. I’m almost a grown ass man. If I had the dexterity I would trim them myself. If I had money and a means of conveyance, I would go get a manicure. But I don’t and I am relying on you. And you’re failing. For %&@!s sake, I heard through the grapevine that you won’t even trim the dog or cat nails.
You’re soooo braaave.
Did you catch that sarcasm?
Don’t even get me started on my toenails. They are weird and crooked and they scratch both of us and you are just ignoring the problem. I don’t CARE if you can’t actually trim them. Find a solution before I draw blood from one of us.
Thanks for nothing,
The !@$@ Baby.
Hey, @!#$%! Baby.
Get your father to do it. I ain’t touching that shit. I’d prefer to not make you bleed. Or, stop flailing and maybe I’ll give it a go.
Love you even though you slice my neck up like Freddie Krueger.