It’s important to always be an authentic version of you. Unless you’re an asshole.  Then you can be someone else. Although, now that I think about it, there’s only one you so if you’re pretending to be someone else that's an authentic version of you as well. An authentic version of you pretending to be someone else. And now my head hurts. 

 Let’s start again...

Normally this column is all about my terrible advice to you on child-rearing. Most people enjoy it or just avoid it but some of you seem intent on calling me out as being a terrible parent in spite of the fact that this column is called "Ill-Advised" for a reason. In fact, I recently got an email implying that I didn't even have a child. Which is ridiculous. I have a 7-year-old named Hailey that I stole so I could write this column in good faith. BECAUSE ETHICS ARE IMPORTANT TO ME.

Also, I stole her from heroin addicts so stop judging me. It took six months just to get her off the horse and she still complains that she has bugs under her skin.  

In short, I am like some kind of a goddamn saint. But in case you still think I'm lying, I have decided to share an hour in the life of my daughter with you.

YOU ARE WELCOME AMERICA. And Canada. And ... whoever else is here.

Let's begin:

Manners are incredibly important in today’s society because people who don’t write thank-you notes get smallpox and die. Or at least, that’s what my great aunt told me. Fortunately I seem to be immune to smallpox. One would think my great aunt would be relieved, but instead she just seems to grow more bitter as I tempted fate each year by refusing to write cards.

If there's one thing worse than a child who curses, it's a child who curses poorly. That's why this week I decided to focus on teaching your children how to curse properly ... specifically using the F-word.

A few years ago I went to visit my sister around Christmas and her kids told me that they had to be very good because "the elf on the shelf is watching us." It sounded like the beginning of a bad Stephen King novel, but turns out it was just a tiny stuffed elf that parents hide around the house so that the elf can report back to Santa. Because nothing says “Merry Christmas” like intentionally bringing in a spy to hide in your house, eavesdrop on your family, and then report all questionable activity back to the authorities. 

I told my sister that I thought the whole thing smacked of McCarthyism and she pointed out that it was more accurately a manifestation of Freud’s Super-ego in elf form.

The other day a friend asked me what the best pet is to have around small children and my answer is “None” because small children are very dangerous. My friend thought I was joking and so I made up a list of why pets suck when you have little kids.

Terrible pets for children:

Yesterday I read about a provocative ad made by the Milwaukee Health Department, which warns parents about the dangers of sleeping with babies. I didn’t actually read the article myself, but I saw the ad, and so I can understand some why people would be so upset about these ads.

First of all, Milwaukee, babies aren't as dangerous as cleavers. I’m not even sure why I’m having to clarify this. I’ve almost never cut myself on a sleeping baby. No one murders co-eds with sleeping babies. Sleeping babies aren't even sharp. This is just ridiculous and it’s ludicrous to imply otherwise. If I was a baby, I would probably sue.

If you’re anything like me, you spend most of your day suspecting that you’re pregnant. I blame too many years of watching unsuspecting women on Oprah tell of having a stomachache that ended minutes later with an unexpected baby laying on the grocery store floor. That’s why I’ve devised these simple guidelines to help you figure out if you’re pregnant or just paranoid.

Let’s get started: