When I was younger, way before I actually had kids, I always thought I’d be a cool mom. Not the horrifying “best friend mom” who dresses like the cougar version of her teenage daughter and lets her get away with murder because someone in the house is the queen bee and it isn’t the parent. But a cool mom whose kids could talk to her about anything because she’d already been through it all and still remembered what it was like to be a young. I always thought that my vast, dramatic life experiences would give me this amazing empathy and understanding of the younger generation.
And to some degree it does. My memory is literally like a steel trap and I don’t just remember every detail of my childhood down to what people were wearing and what song was playing but I also remember with fresh pain every feeling. So when I saw the look of rejection on my little pal Cecilia when she asked Mac to marry her and she said no (not knowing that his reasoning was that he’s never getting married because then he’d have to move out of our house and he likes it here), my heart broke for her.
And last summer when one of the baseball boys staying with us for the summer over did it a bit a team party and ended up vomiting out the side of his mouth while passed out cold on the floor of my garage, I felt his pain and remembered the way things like shots of Sambuca and carafes of house red wine had ravaged my system as a younger person.
But as an old person I knew that I was responsible for this kid and so even though he wasn’t going to like it I had to call 911 and get an ambulance over here or risk letting someone die on my watch. As an adult, you can’t always make the cool decision. Sometime you have to make the right decision. At some point you have to give up the idea of being cool and be the least cool thing there is - a grown up.
So my question is – who is running the ABC Family Channel because for a channel with the word “family” in it their programming it is awfully sexed up. Is it being run by the 20 something equivalents of my baseball friend because that would make sense? Or is it being run by washed up sexpots like the “best friend moms” I mentioned before who want to relive their glory days? Or maybe it’s being run by the kind of total geeks who I encountered in my cable television working days who think they missed out on some kind of crazy shenanigans as young people and get off on recreating what they think they missed now? I don’t know. All I do know is that the only thing the ABC Family Channel is doing that has to do with family is showing you how to make one – physically.
Now, I have to admit, I am totally into their new show Pretty Little Liars. The story is super cheesy and ridiculous but who cares because the high school girls are all cute and totally mean and 90210 awesome. And their parents are played by some of my classic favorites: Sydney Mancini from both versions of Melrose Place, Nia Peeples of North Shore and Fame not to mention her own rocking Party Machine, Chad Lowe, the poor HIV afflicted boyfriend of Becca on Life Goes On, and best of all one girl’s big sister is played by that crazy babysitter from One Tree Hill who tried to steal Jamie and hobble Dan Scott. Fantastic casting. I love the show. It is for sure my favorite guilty pleasure of the summer. Note the word GUILTY.
See, I am the mother of two very little boys. If they were tween or teen boys would I want them watching this trash with me? No way. If they were girls of any age would I let them near this show? Not in a million years. I mean in the first episode one girl is depressed so she goes to a seedy bar in the middle of the afternoon, picks up a random guy and has sex with him in the bathroom. Excuse me? And that guy ends up being her English teacher! Who openly flirts with her and tries to ignore their sizzling chemistry but when he sees her walking down the road, in the rain mind you, he stops to pick her up for a quick make out session. Wow. When I watch stuff like that I immediately think Family Viewing. NOT. Even while I’m enjoying the show in the back of my mind I’m hating what this kind of garbage does to the always already fragile psyche of a young girl. Why isn’t this show on the CW or FOX and why isn’t it on at 9 or 10pm? Why would a channel that is supposed to be about family put on something that is so the opposite of their supposed brand at 8pm? I’ll tell you why - because no one cares about corrupting our youth. No one feels responsible even though it’s something we all should feel.
I know it’s kind of a big statement but it’s true. Last night I was at a park near a duck pond with my kids and there were some other little whippersnappers who were chasing two of the ducks and plucking their feathers. Yes, they were actually pulling feathers out of the ducks. Now, it’s no secret that I hate birds of any kind but I also hate the idea of torturing other living creatures and that’s what these kids were doing. The ducks were freaking out. They ran/waddled as fast as they could away from those crazy eyed children and the kids kept chasing them. They’d pull out their feathers while the ducks flapped and screamed and then the kids would give the feathers to their parents to hold while they continued to torment the poor ducks. I instructed my kids to get away from them and then I yelled for the whole park to hear “Everyone get away from those ducks! You are going to give them a heart attack!” The parents of the duck abusers looked at me like I was crazy. But you know what’s crazy – letting your kids torture animals because little kids who enjoy hurting other living things grow up to be the Patrick Batemans of the world and as much as I enjoy Huey Lewis, I don’t think the world needs anymore Batemans.
Sometimes saying no isn’t such a bad thing. Sometimes doing the hard thing is the best thing. Unless of course your dream is to be the parent of a sociopath or a pregnant teenager or the star of a Girls Gone Wild video, to watch someone die of alcohol poisoning or to work as a network executive at ABC Family. If one of those is your dreams keep on saying yes and I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you deserve.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What Would Ronald Reagan Do?
He walks past us starring. More like glaring. We can feel his eyes beating on us through his mirrored sun glasses. He’s waiting for us to do something, anything, wrong so that he can swoop in and implement severe punishment. I’m pretty sure the cold war is over but someone forgot to tell Ivan Drago, I mean, the head life guard at my pool – Darko. Yes, like Cher and Madonna, Darko only needs one name. He’s that bad ass. Heavy on the ass part.
It’s kind of a sad story because apparently the company that manages our lifeguards treats them rather shabbily; paying them little and always threatening to deport them (they’re mostly Eastern Europeans). Normally, something like that would enrage me and I’d be all over helping these poor mistreated foreigners but unfortunately Darko has ruined that for everyone.
He’s just awful. Instead of working with the neighbors to help make the pool a safe and fun environment, he attacks us. I guess the little power he has as head life guard makes him feel like a man or something. So he walks around the pool deck like a traffic cop stalking a parking garage, stopping to tell kids what they can’t do (no water guns, no balls, no laughter, no smiling), take pacifiers from babies (yes, he actually told Charlie that his pacifier is illegal on pool grounds), stop parents from taking pictures (apparently some cameras are not allowed) and ask swim teachers what gives them the right to teach kids in this pool to swim. Are you kidding me? As a life guard wouldn’t it be in your best interest to be watching kids who can actually swim? Sounds like something that would make the job a lot easier. Of course, this would mean you would actually have to be doing the part of the job that involves making sure people don’t get hurt or drowned. That part of the job is not so important to Darko. When my son fell and bled all over the pool deck, Darko didn’t look our way, let alone offer a first aid kit. And when my friend’s daughter fell into the pool, her mother ran in to save her – the lifeguards didn’t even acknowledge it had happened. Now if that little girl had been drowning and holding a water gun, they would have noticed long enough to peel the gun out of her flailing hands. Saving her, maybe not so important.
And on top of everything else, Darko does not seem to agree that cleanliness is close to Godliness. I grew up with a pool in my backyard and it was my job to clean it so I actually have about as much pool cleaning experience as Morris Buttermaker. And unlike Darko or Buttermaker, I cleaned the skimmers for a pool in the woods so I regularly had to remove floating dead forest rodents from it. Cleaning a pool in Davidsontucky is serious business.
Anyhow, now that we have my qualifications in regards to judging pool cleanliness cleared up; let’s get to the problem at hand. First of all, you have to clean the skimmers every night and every morning. Otherwise they fill up with gross stuff that just stays there. And then when the pool water level runs a little low, the gross stuff in the skimmer floats back out into the pool. So if you’re not emptying it out a couple times a day, why even have one? I know that the skimmers at my pool are not being cleaned because last week I checked them myself every day and for four days in a row the same cloth starfish toy was in there. As the days went on, the starfish never moved but just got more and more covered in beetles. Gross.
And then last Friday when the water was a little low, I noticed toys and beetles being sucked in and then spit out of the skimmer. A few minutes after that I noticed some sort of chunky substance that looked to be regurgitated food floating in the water. I thought it was throw up so my first urge was to scream “Throw up in the pool!” but I didn’t want to send the whole pool into a widespread panic like Spaulding did when he saw the Baby Ruth that looked like poo, so instead I just grabbed my son and his two pals and moved them away from the vomit. Then my friend went and told the lifeguards about it. They inspected the substance and said it was peanut butter and then casually tried to remove it. How did the supposed peanut butter get there? How long had it been there? Why didn’t Darko notice it during one of his starring jaunts? Would he have stopped the peanut butter if it had been shooting a water gun? Who knows? All I know is that two of Charlie’s pals ended up with some intestinal problems over the weekend and Charlie ended up at the doctor’s office with an oozing infected cut today. The doctor seemed to think the “incident” at the pool could be to blame. And that made me want to go all Rocky IV growing a savage beard and carrying a log up a snowy mountain to kick your ass, Drago, I mean Darko!
So what next? Do I continue to go to a pool where I feel like I’m part of the Genesis “Land of Confusion” video? Do I wait for Darko to piss off someone else a t the pool and then gather up an army of neighbors and shout “Wolverines!”? Do I climb up on a lifeguard stand and let the Russkies know that if “I can change and you can change then we all can change?” and end the cold war forever? Naturally, I keep asking myself what would Ronald Reagan do? Not surprisingly, my favorite president and the man who ended the first cold war was also a lifeguard. Sure wish The Gipper was here to help me end this one.
It’s kind of a sad story because apparently the company that manages our lifeguards treats them rather shabbily; paying them little and always threatening to deport them (they’re mostly Eastern Europeans). Normally, something like that would enrage me and I’d be all over helping these poor mistreated foreigners but unfortunately Darko has ruined that for everyone.
He’s just awful. Instead of working with the neighbors to help make the pool a safe and fun environment, he attacks us. I guess the little power he has as head life guard makes him feel like a man or something. So he walks around the pool deck like a traffic cop stalking a parking garage, stopping to tell kids what they can’t do (no water guns, no balls, no laughter, no smiling), take pacifiers from babies (yes, he actually told Charlie that his pacifier is illegal on pool grounds), stop parents from taking pictures (apparently some cameras are not allowed) and ask swim teachers what gives them the right to teach kids in this pool to swim. Are you kidding me? As a life guard wouldn’t it be in your best interest to be watching kids who can actually swim? Sounds like something that would make the job a lot easier. Of course, this would mean you would actually have to be doing the part of the job that involves making sure people don’t get hurt or drowned. That part of the job is not so important to Darko. When my son fell and bled all over the pool deck, Darko didn’t look our way, let alone offer a first aid kit. And when my friend’s daughter fell into the pool, her mother ran in to save her – the lifeguards didn’t even acknowledge it had happened. Now if that little girl had been drowning and holding a water gun, they would have noticed long enough to peel the gun out of her flailing hands. Saving her, maybe not so important.
And on top of everything else, Darko does not seem to agree that cleanliness is close to Godliness. I grew up with a pool in my backyard and it was my job to clean it so I actually have about as much pool cleaning experience as Morris Buttermaker. And unlike Darko or Buttermaker, I cleaned the skimmers for a pool in the woods so I regularly had to remove floating dead forest rodents from it. Cleaning a pool in Davidsontucky is serious business.
Anyhow, now that we have my qualifications in regards to judging pool cleanliness cleared up; let’s get to the problem at hand. First of all, you have to clean the skimmers every night and every morning. Otherwise they fill up with gross stuff that just stays there. And then when the pool water level runs a little low, the gross stuff in the skimmer floats back out into the pool. So if you’re not emptying it out a couple times a day, why even have one? I know that the skimmers at my pool are not being cleaned because last week I checked them myself every day and for four days in a row the same cloth starfish toy was in there. As the days went on, the starfish never moved but just got more and more covered in beetles. Gross.
And then last Friday when the water was a little low, I noticed toys and beetles being sucked in and then spit out of the skimmer. A few minutes after that I noticed some sort of chunky substance that looked to be regurgitated food floating in the water. I thought it was throw up so my first urge was to scream “Throw up in the pool!” but I didn’t want to send the whole pool into a widespread panic like Spaulding did when he saw the Baby Ruth that looked like poo, so instead I just grabbed my son and his two pals and moved them away from the vomit. Then my friend went and told the lifeguards about it. They inspected the substance and said it was peanut butter and then casually tried to remove it. How did the supposed peanut butter get there? How long had it been there? Why didn’t Darko notice it during one of his starring jaunts? Would he have stopped the peanut butter if it had been shooting a water gun? Who knows? All I know is that two of Charlie’s pals ended up with some intestinal problems over the weekend and Charlie ended up at the doctor’s office with an oozing infected cut today. The doctor seemed to think the “incident” at the pool could be to blame. And that made me want to go all Rocky IV growing a savage beard and carrying a log up a snowy mountain to kick your ass, Drago, I mean Darko!
So what next? Do I continue to go to a pool where I feel like I’m part of the Genesis “Land of Confusion” video? Do I wait for Darko to piss off someone else a t the pool and then gather up an army of neighbors and shout “Wolverines!”? Do I climb up on a lifeguard stand and let the Russkies know that if “I can change and you can change then we all can change?” and end the cold war forever? Naturally, I keep asking myself what would Ronald Reagan do? Not surprisingly, my favorite president and the man who ended the first cold war was also a lifeguard. Sure wish The Gipper was here to help me end this one.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Guys I Love
So I’ve been trying desperately to win tickets to The Women’s Conference in California by entering all their monthly on-line give aways. The most recent contest for free tickets is to write in 200 words or less about “Guys We Love”. As the mother of two boys, the sister of two brothers, the best pal to dudes a plenty, a hot number and the wife of the ever charming Bobby Crismond, 200 words was not nearly enough to for me to expound on all the guys I love. I could probably go on for days and days on this subject but I know we’re all short on time so I’ll try to keep it short. Here is a sampling of the many guys I love and why I love them so damn much.
Bobby Crismond – well, if you’ve seen him then you know it’s partly because I’m shallow and he’s hot. Like super hot. But I love Bobby for more than that. I love him because at the very worst moment of my life, he fully accepted all my crazy baggage and swept in to save me. Our friend Rossi loves to call Bobby “a hater” because as I’ve talked about before, he sort of hates a lot of things (men in tight tee-shirts, Bluetooth guy, Cameron Diaz, etc) and he definitely doesn’t like everyone. The thing is that when he does like someone or something, he is intensely loyal. He is your best friend. That doesn’t mean he won’t continue to make fun of your jogging attire or your incredibly nerdy knowledge of Star Wars trivia. He will be the first one to bust on your receding hairline or your clothes or the weight you put on recently. And he will make up mean nicknames for you like “Fat Pappy” or “Bitchard” but somehow he’s super high level of charm and affability will allow him to get away with all this. And when the chips are down he is the person who is going to be there for you and you won’t care that his ribbing you nonstop because it’s that loving teasing that is going to get you through the storm.
Kevin McCarthy – My dad is not conventional. And while there are times that I think it might be nice to have the kind of dads you see on sitcoms, I would never ever trade the dad I have. When I was in 6th grade with 6 girls and 15 boys and my dad chaperoned our camping trip, all the boys wanted to be in my dad’s cabin because he was cool. He didn’t make them hunt for fossils like the chaperones were supposed to do. He played football with them. For someone with the kind of work ethic my dad has – we’re talking about a man who worked his way through college and law school on construction jobs and ended up being more successful than he had ever dreamed – he always valued fun. No one likes sitting around drinking beer and telling the old stories more than my dad. I’ve heard them all a hundred times and I hope I get the chance to listen to them 100 more. My dad is tough but it’s all an act because underneath his never cry exterior is a guy who has buried more people he loves than anyone should have to and has done it all with grace and dignity. A guy who keeps stuffed animals in his office in a case a child stops by. A guy who hates talking about anything but it doesn’t matter because his true feelings are right there under the surface poking out at you. A guy my kids call Noodle and he allows it, even answers to it. My dad is not like your dad, he’s not like any dad, and I’m glad.
Sylvester Stallone – No I’ve never met him but his characters, Rocky Balboa, John Rambo and Robert Hatch. One of them ended the Cold War, one of them saved POWs and one of them ensured the freedom of a team full of concentration camp victims. And yes, they were all a bit ridiculous but as a young person I found the characters Stallone portrayed inspiring and I tried to emulate them in my real life. I’m extremely resilient. Most of that resilience I got from Kevin McCarthy but a little of it I owe to Sylvester Stallone.
Denis Leary & Steve Buscemi – because rumor has it that on September 11, 2001 they suited up with their former colleagues and headed to the Twin Towers to actually fight the fires. Here are guys who hadn’t been firemen in years. Guys who could have just written checks to help. But when they saw what kind of help was really needed they went in there and took action.
Ken Jeong – Like the rest of you, I loved him in The Hangover and I love him on Community, but my love for him skyrocketed when I saw him take home a trophy at the MTV Movie Awards this year and break down crying about his love for his wife and salute her for being cancer free after a terrible battle. Amazing.
Ted Kennedy – My mom LOVED the Kennedys. She worked for the Justice Department and was photographed crying the day Bobby was assassinated. I still have the picture of her from The Washington Post. My dad was much more realistic about the Kennedys. He could see the good and the bad. To him they were people, not Gods. I never really had strong feelings about them one way or another. And then Ted Kennedy died and I watched his funeral on TV and how I wished I had paid more positive attention to him when he was alive. Hearing politicians on both sides talk so glowingly about him was amazing. Hearing his nieces and nephews talk about how much he had done to help raise them and keep the family together was awesome. But hearing his own son talk about his dad sleigh riding with him, despite his disability, and helping him walk up the hill after they went down just about killed me. Here was a man that was known for a lot of unfortunate incidents: adultery, drinking, the death of a young woman in a car accident – and those things could easily have overshadowed him the rest of his life but they didn’t. Because Ted Kennedy wanted to help. He wanted to help his friends. He wanted to help his family. And he wanted to help his country. And gossip was not going to stop him. He worked to help others till the day he died and while I didn’t always agree with his politics, I think he was truly an outstanding person.
My friend James – because even though he thinks the things he does for others are no big deal, he’s wrong. James is not ordinary. And I know the seven women and one boy currently living with him are pretty happy about that.
Mike and Joe – last summer when I wanted to have college baseball players come live with us there were people who thought I was insane to take in strangers and be responsible for more boys. All of those people were wrong. You know in The Blind Side when Sandra Bullock is told that she’s changing that boy’s life and she says “No. He’s changing mine”. That about sums up how my family feels about Mike and Joe.
Mills – we became friends because we both thought Keanu Reeves performance in Youngblood was priceless. Mills immediately sold me out at an office party because that’s how he rolls. Usually that kind of thing would kill a friendship for me but I knew from day one that Mills and I had too much in common to not be friends. And I knew he needed someone to try and run his life for him and I am totally that person. Mills rarely takes my advice but I never stop giving it to him. We’re good like that.
Pat Noel – I met Pat Noel in fourth grade and he’s still one of the closest friends in my life. That’s pretty awesome but what’s even more awesome is that Pat is still close friends with pretty much everyone he’s ever met. The guy has like 72 best friends. Everyone loves Pat is not an exaggeration. Everyone does love him. And he keeps in touch with all of us. Pat has had a life with as many ups and downs as the rest of us but you’d never know it because he is always positive, always optimistic. He got married in 2008 and his wife is a pretty terrific woman. She’s also one of the luckiest people alive because while everyone loves Pat, he loves Adrienne. And that’s pretty cool.
This is just the tip of the iceberg for me. And I haven’t even touched on the fabulous little guys I live with, Mac and Charlie, or my most favorite fictional guy ever, Ray Kinsella. Women spend a lot of time ragging on guys who aren't so bad and obsessing over the guys who suck. What a waste of time. As someone who lived the first half of her life in a house with 3 guys and spends the best part of it now in a house with 3 guys, I think I have the credentials to say there is nothing better than a really great guy.
Bobby Crismond – well, if you’ve seen him then you know it’s partly because I’m shallow and he’s hot. Like super hot. But I love Bobby for more than that. I love him because at the very worst moment of my life, he fully accepted all my crazy baggage and swept in to save me. Our friend Rossi loves to call Bobby “a hater” because as I’ve talked about before, he sort of hates a lot of things (men in tight tee-shirts, Bluetooth guy, Cameron Diaz, etc) and he definitely doesn’t like everyone. The thing is that when he does like someone or something, he is intensely loyal. He is your best friend. That doesn’t mean he won’t continue to make fun of your jogging attire or your incredibly nerdy knowledge of Star Wars trivia. He will be the first one to bust on your receding hairline or your clothes or the weight you put on recently. And he will make up mean nicknames for you like “Fat Pappy” or “Bitchard” but somehow he’s super high level of charm and affability will allow him to get away with all this. And when the chips are down he is the person who is going to be there for you and you won’t care that his ribbing you nonstop because it’s that loving teasing that is going to get you through the storm.
Kevin McCarthy – My dad is not conventional. And while there are times that I think it might be nice to have the kind of dads you see on sitcoms, I would never ever trade the dad I have. When I was in 6th grade with 6 girls and 15 boys and my dad chaperoned our camping trip, all the boys wanted to be in my dad’s cabin because he was cool. He didn’t make them hunt for fossils like the chaperones were supposed to do. He played football with them. For someone with the kind of work ethic my dad has – we’re talking about a man who worked his way through college and law school on construction jobs and ended up being more successful than he had ever dreamed – he always valued fun. No one likes sitting around drinking beer and telling the old stories more than my dad. I’ve heard them all a hundred times and I hope I get the chance to listen to them 100 more. My dad is tough but it’s all an act because underneath his never cry exterior is a guy who has buried more people he loves than anyone should have to and has done it all with grace and dignity. A guy who keeps stuffed animals in his office in a case a child stops by. A guy who hates talking about anything but it doesn’t matter because his true feelings are right there under the surface poking out at you. A guy my kids call Noodle and he allows it, even answers to it. My dad is not like your dad, he’s not like any dad, and I’m glad.
Sylvester Stallone – No I’ve never met him but his characters, Rocky Balboa, John Rambo and Robert Hatch. One of them ended the Cold War, one of them saved POWs and one of them ensured the freedom of a team full of concentration camp victims. And yes, they were all a bit ridiculous but as a young person I found the characters Stallone portrayed inspiring and I tried to emulate them in my real life. I’m extremely resilient. Most of that resilience I got from Kevin McCarthy but a little of it I owe to Sylvester Stallone.
Denis Leary & Steve Buscemi – because rumor has it that on September 11, 2001 they suited up with their former colleagues and headed to the Twin Towers to actually fight the fires. Here are guys who hadn’t been firemen in years. Guys who could have just written checks to help. But when they saw what kind of help was really needed they went in there and took action.
Ken Jeong – Like the rest of you, I loved him in The Hangover and I love him on Community, but my love for him skyrocketed when I saw him take home a trophy at the MTV Movie Awards this year and break down crying about his love for his wife and salute her for being cancer free after a terrible battle. Amazing.
Ted Kennedy – My mom LOVED the Kennedys. She worked for the Justice Department and was photographed crying the day Bobby was assassinated. I still have the picture of her from The Washington Post. My dad was much more realistic about the Kennedys. He could see the good and the bad. To him they were people, not Gods. I never really had strong feelings about them one way or another. And then Ted Kennedy died and I watched his funeral on TV and how I wished I had paid more positive attention to him when he was alive. Hearing politicians on both sides talk so glowingly about him was amazing. Hearing his nieces and nephews talk about how much he had done to help raise them and keep the family together was awesome. But hearing his own son talk about his dad sleigh riding with him, despite his disability, and helping him walk up the hill after they went down just about killed me. Here was a man that was known for a lot of unfortunate incidents: adultery, drinking, the death of a young woman in a car accident – and those things could easily have overshadowed him the rest of his life but they didn’t. Because Ted Kennedy wanted to help. He wanted to help his friends. He wanted to help his family. And he wanted to help his country. And gossip was not going to stop him. He worked to help others till the day he died and while I didn’t always agree with his politics, I think he was truly an outstanding person.
My friend James – because even though he thinks the things he does for others are no big deal, he’s wrong. James is not ordinary. And I know the seven women and one boy currently living with him are pretty happy about that.
Mike and Joe – last summer when I wanted to have college baseball players come live with us there were people who thought I was insane to take in strangers and be responsible for more boys. All of those people were wrong. You know in The Blind Side when Sandra Bullock is told that she’s changing that boy’s life and she says “No. He’s changing mine”. That about sums up how my family feels about Mike and Joe.
Mills – we became friends because we both thought Keanu Reeves performance in Youngblood was priceless. Mills immediately sold me out at an office party because that’s how he rolls. Usually that kind of thing would kill a friendship for me but I knew from day one that Mills and I had too much in common to not be friends. And I knew he needed someone to try and run his life for him and I am totally that person. Mills rarely takes my advice but I never stop giving it to him. We’re good like that.
Pat Noel – I met Pat Noel in fourth grade and he’s still one of the closest friends in my life. That’s pretty awesome but what’s even more awesome is that Pat is still close friends with pretty much everyone he’s ever met. The guy has like 72 best friends. Everyone loves Pat is not an exaggeration. Everyone does love him. And he keeps in touch with all of us. Pat has had a life with as many ups and downs as the rest of us but you’d never know it because he is always positive, always optimistic. He got married in 2008 and his wife is a pretty terrific woman. She’s also one of the luckiest people alive because while everyone loves Pat, he loves Adrienne. And that’s pretty cool.
This is just the tip of the iceberg for me. And I haven’t even touched on the fabulous little guys I live with, Mac and Charlie, or my most favorite fictional guy ever, Ray Kinsella. Women spend a lot of time ragging on guys who aren't so bad and obsessing over the guys who suck. What a waste of time. As someone who lived the first half of her life in a house with 3 guys and spends the best part of it now in a house with 3 guys, I think I have the credentials to say there is nothing better than a really great guy.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Legend of the Crazy Bitch
Unlike today’s youth, the term “bitch” is not one I throw around. I don’t call my friends “biotches”. I call them buddies or pals or better yet, I call them by actual their actual names.
And when I am witness to bitchy behavior, I don’t automatically decide that the person acting that way is a bitch. I don’t jump to conclusions because we all have days when our kids are willful and rotten or we have our periods or our hair is frizzy and sometimes those days can get the best of us and the bitch comes out. A bitchy day does not make a bitch. It makes a human. If you’re never bitchy, you aren’t real. And I hate a fake way more than a bitch.
Recently I’ve also been learning through the example of one of my friend’s formerly sweet but now teenage daughters– adolescence brings out the bitch big time. Once again, thank God I have boys.
So there’s a little bitch in all of us but most of us keep it in check the majority of the time. The problem comes when you can’t keep it in check. In most cases, women with untamed bitchiness are also unfortunately crazy. Hence, the name “crazy bitch”. Definitely one of the scariest creatures you’ll ever run into because not only is she mean, she’s completely unreasonable and self involved.
The craziest bitch I ever met was our friend Dossenfeffer’s ex-girlfriend, Dawn. There are many examples I could give you that would clearly prove that Dawn was a crazy bitch, but some of them might be embarrassing to Dossenfeffer so I’m going to just give you one. It was on a trip to the beach in the late 1990's. We were there on kind of an overcast day so instead of hitting the beach we went to the boardwalk, walked around, and had lunch. Dawn’s behavior seemed normal at first but when we stopped for lunch she got all angry cause she didn’t want to eat pizza because it was too greasy and Doss had to go get her a tuna sandwich which she rejected because it had too much mayo. I totally understand being picky about food, but when you have food issues you can’t get mad at those who don’t. And if you’re eating on the boardwalk, there are not a lot of healthy options. These are just common sense deductions but since crazy bitches are unable to process rational thoughts they just get mad and super bitchy.
So Dawn pouted and complained the whole lunch and then we went to Jolly Rogers where all of a sudden she got super mad at Dossenfeffer and demanded we leave. Turned out she had to poop and wanted to go home which again is totally reasonable but her outburst was crazy. When we got home she wanted to Doss to go jogging with her but he wanted to go to the beer store with Bobby. Again, crazy outburst accentuated by storming out of the house for a jog. I was scared of what the night had in store but after a jog and a shower Dawn reappeared all refreshed and super nice and even sort of affectionate to Doss. It was like she’d washed off the bitchiness. Unfortunately what really was happening was that her mania was giving her a little time off.
We headed out to get some seafood and beer with Dossenfeffer and “nice Dawn” and actually started to have fun. She was laughing and not acting scary. It was almost delightful until we got to Seacrets and all hell broke loose again. I thought things were going well, but then Bobby and Dossenfeffer did their famous Kid N Play buddies dance and all of a sudden she was screaming again. And the screaming was that of an insane person. It made no sense and nothing had happened to provoke it. Maybe she was mad that the boys were having fun together and she wasn’t the center of attention. Maybe her drink wasn’t tasty. Maybe her underpants were giving her a wedgie. Who knows but whatever it was that made her mad she thought it was pretty bad because she turned into some sort of Tazmanian devil. Next thing I know we’re outside and Doss is throwing his hands up yelling “what do I have to do to make this girl happy?” and we’re on our way home too early in the evening. The next day stony silence and blue steel stares from Dawn all day but suddenly at dinner again total sweetness and a bizarre confusion over why the rest of us were walking on egg shells around her. I wanted to yell “it’s cause you’re a crazy bitch and we’re all scared of you, Dawn!” but since I am not a crazy bitch, I just looked at her like she was a supposedly tame bit pill with a known attack record.
In most cases, I sort of feel sorry for the crazy bitch because being hampered with mental illness sucks. In the case of Dawn, I don’t feel sorry for her because I actually believe she was a messenger from the Devil. But in most cases, I think it must be pretty awful to go through life riding so far off the rails of sanity all the time that you drive away people who might have cared about you. The crazy bitch is more pathetic than mean but it’s sort of hard to see that when you’re James Woods and that crazy bitch Sean Young is gluing your dick to your leg. And it’s kind of hard not to resent the crazy bitches of the world when your dad has had enough run in with them to assume every time a woman cries or disagrees with him she must be crazy. Sometimes we’re just sad or, dare I say it, right.
Sometimes the crazy bitches gives us all a bad name and I am not down with that.
So sane, not bitchy women of the world, let’s stand together and show society that we can all be rational and nice as long as we’re not having a bad hair day.
And when I am witness to bitchy behavior, I don’t automatically decide that the person acting that way is a bitch. I don’t jump to conclusions because we all have days when our kids are willful and rotten or we have our periods or our hair is frizzy and sometimes those days can get the best of us and the bitch comes out. A bitchy day does not make a bitch. It makes a human. If you’re never bitchy, you aren’t real. And I hate a fake way more than a bitch.
Recently I’ve also been learning through the example of one of my friend’s formerly sweet but now teenage daughters– adolescence brings out the bitch big time. Once again, thank God I have boys.
So there’s a little bitch in all of us but most of us keep it in check the majority of the time. The problem comes when you can’t keep it in check. In most cases, women with untamed bitchiness are also unfortunately crazy. Hence, the name “crazy bitch”. Definitely one of the scariest creatures you’ll ever run into because not only is she mean, she’s completely unreasonable and self involved.
The craziest bitch I ever met was our friend Dossenfeffer’s ex-girlfriend, Dawn. There are many examples I could give you that would clearly prove that Dawn was a crazy bitch, but some of them might be embarrassing to Dossenfeffer so I’m going to just give you one. It was on a trip to the beach in the late 1990's. We were there on kind of an overcast day so instead of hitting the beach we went to the boardwalk, walked around, and had lunch. Dawn’s behavior seemed normal at first but when we stopped for lunch she got all angry cause she didn’t want to eat pizza because it was too greasy and Doss had to go get her a tuna sandwich which she rejected because it had too much mayo. I totally understand being picky about food, but when you have food issues you can’t get mad at those who don’t. And if you’re eating on the boardwalk, there are not a lot of healthy options. These are just common sense deductions but since crazy bitches are unable to process rational thoughts they just get mad and super bitchy.
So Dawn pouted and complained the whole lunch and then we went to Jolly Rogers where all of a sudden she got super mad at Dossenfeffer and demanded we leave. Turned out she had to poop and wanted to go home which again is totally reasonable but her outburst was crazy. When we got home she wanted to Doss to go jogging with her but he wanted to go to the beer store with Bobby. Again, crazy outburst accentuated by storming out of the house for a jog. I was scared of what the night had in store but after a jog and a shower Dawn reappeared all refreshed and super nice and even sort of affectionate to Doss. It was like she’d washed off the bitchiness. Unfortunately what really was happening was that her mania was giving her a little time off.
We headed out to get some seafood and beer with Dossenfeffer and “nice Dawn” and actually started to have fun. She was laughing and not acting scary. It was almost delightful until we got to Seacrets and all hell broke loose again. I thought things were going well, but then Bobby and Dossenfeffer did their famous Kid N Play buddies dance and all of a sudden she was screaming again. And the screaming was that of an insane person. It made no sense and nothing had happened to provoke it. Maybe she was mad that the boys were having fun together and she wasn’t the center of attention. Maybe her drink wasn’t tasty. Maybe her underpants were giving her a wedgie. Who knows but whatever it was that made her mad she thought it was pretty bad because she turned into some sort of Tazmanian devil. Next thing I know we’re outside and Doss is throwing his hands up yelling “what do I have to do to make this girl happy?” and we’re on our way home too early in the evening. The next day stony silence and blue steel stares from Dawn all day but suddenly at dinner again total sweetness and a bizarre confusion over why the rest of us were walking on egg shells around her. I wanted to yell “it’s cause you’re a crazy bitch and we’re all scared of you, Dawn!” but since I am not a crazy bitch, I just looked at her like she was a supposedly tame bit pill with a known attack record.
In most cases, I sort of feel sorry for the crazy bitch because being hampered with mental illness sucks. In the case of Dawn, I don’t feel sorry for her because I actually believe she was a messenger from the Devil. But in most cases, I think it must be pretty awful to go through life riding so far off the rails of sanity all the time that you drive away people who might have cared about you. The crazy bitch is more pathetic than mean but it’s sort of hard to see that when you’re James Woods and that crazy bitch Sean Young is gluing your dick to your leg. And it’s kind of hard not to resent the crazy bitches of the world when your dad has had enough run in with them to assume every time a woman cries or disagrees with him she must be crazy. Sometimes we’re just sad or, dare I say it, right.
Sometimes the crazy bitches gives us all a bad name and I am not down with that.
So sane, not bitchy women of the world, let’s stand together and show society that we can all be rational and nice as long as we’re not having a bad hair day.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Greetings from the OC Part II
It’s my last day in the OC. We’re packing up the condo tomorrow so the renters don’t touch any of our stuff this summer. I’ve definitely seen some folks that would give me nightmares if I thought we were sharing the same sheets. Although those nightmares would not compare to the real life nightmare I lived through at Fish Tales last night.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Ocean City Maryland, Fish Tales is a bar/restaurant out on the beach on the bayside. It’s awesome because right next to you on the sand is a giant pirate ship where your kids can play while you enjoy a leisurely meal or a few drinks or both. So last night, my family headed over there for a night of relaxation that quickly turned into horror. As I’ve mentioned before, I have an almost insane fear of birds. And at the beach, there are always seagulls hovering around waiting for you to drop a fry or worse yet for some moron to throw popcorn to them.
When we got to Fish Tales the kids immediately ran off to play on the pirate ship while Bobby and I sat back at the table, ordered dinner and had ourselves some beer. Sounds perfect. Until the kids' food came, but the kids weren’t ready to eat yet so they stayed on the pirate ship while their food waited at our table. Then Bobby got up to use the restroom and left me alone. That’s when the birds smelled my fear and decided to attack. Three seagulls literally dive bombed the table grabbing at Mac and Charlie’s plates and leaving their food shorn by dirty bird claws. I stood up and starting screaming but the birds kept up their attack. Everyone else just stared at me like I was some kind of freak. Then the waitress came over and asked if the birds had taken all the food or if there was enough left for the kids to eat. I was sort of in a state of shock and couldn’t even speak at that point. Luckily a lady at the next table said to the waitress “Birds were touching that food, they can’t eat it”. And so we packed up our kids and heading to a bird-free pirate restaurant with a play ship (Dead Freddies) for round two of our dinner. I had dreams of birds attacking me all night. You know how they say if you face your fears you’ll beat them. Wrong. I am now more afraid of birds than ever.
One place we didn’t go during our week at the beach is Buxy’s Salty Dog Saloon. Why, you ask, would I refuse to take my children to place where kids meals are served in dog bowls? Well, first of all, cause that’s gross. But more importantly, it’s because in 1990 I attempted to enter the Salty Dog with a fake ID and the bouncer didn’t let me in. To add insult to injury, he let all my friends in! Luckily, for me they were the kind of friends who didn’t go into a bar that their pal was rejected from so we all headed elsewhere but as I was walking away I said to that bouncer “You blew it, Man. I will NEVER set foot in this place. NEVER.” And twenty years later that threat is officially a promise. Never doubt the word of an angry underage Irish girl.
Speaking of underage drinking, last night we saw some more underage kids getting arrested. This time it was because they were caught with open containers. And the open containers they chose to drink out of while walking down Coastal Hwy were the infamous red plastic cups. Are you kidding me? Everyone knows that those cups are always filled with beer. What do you think my friends and I drink out of when we take our kids to the park during happy hour? Kidding. I just recently read a quote from the girl who plays Hermione in the Harry Potter movies where she was talking about adjusting to college life at Brown and she mentioned how surprised she was when she went to her first party and saw all the students drinking out of red cups just like a real life American teenage movie. So while I pitied the kids I saw getting busted on my drive here, the ones with the red cups were obviously way too dumb to get away with having a few beers. Maybe instead of a drinking age, we should have some sort of common sense test you have to pass to get served. Wow – I know I lot of old people who would need fake IDs if that were the case.
So tomorrow it ends. No more beach. Bob back to work. Mac off school and needing me to constantly amuse him and Charlie all summer long. It could get ugly. Or it could be great. We’ll see who the last man standing is at the end of the summer.
But before my summer can really get started, I need to find my friend Joe Lies. Has anyone seen him? Last I heard he was off somewhere snuggling a very sarcastic twenty-something waitress who he refuses to mix drinks for at home. If you find him, let me know.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Ocean City Maryland, Fish Tales is a bar/restaurant out on the beach on the bayside. It’s awesome because right next to you on the sand is a giant pirate ship where your kids can play while you enjoy a leisurely meal or a few drinks or both. So last night, my family headed over there for a night of relaxation that quickly turned into horror. As I’ve mentioned before, I have an almost insane fear of birds. And at the beach, there are always seagulls hovering around waiting for you to drop a fry or worse yet for some moron to throw popcorn to them.
When we got to Fish Tales the kids immediately ran off to play on the pirate ship while Bobby and I sat back at the table, ordered dinner and had ourselves some beer. Sounds perfect. Until the kids' food came, but the kids weren’t ready to eat yet so they stayed on the pirate ship while their food waited at our table. Then Bobby got up to use the restroom and left me alone. That’s when the birds smelled my fear and decided to attack. Three seagulls literally dive bombed the table grabbing at Mac and Charlie’s plates and leaving their food shorn by dirty bird claws. I stood up and starting screaming but the birds kept up their attack. Everyone else just stared at me like I was some kind of freak. Then the waitress came over and asked if the birds had taken all the food or if there was enough left for the kids to eat. I was sort of in a state of shock and couldn’t even speak at that point. Luckily a lady at the next table said to the waitress “Birds were touching that food, they can’t eat it”. And so we packed up our kids and heading to a bird-free pirate restaurant with a play ship (Dead Freddies) for round two of our dinner. I had dreams of birds attacking me all night. You know how they say if you face your fears you’ll beat them. Wrong. I am now more afraid of birds than ever.
One place we didn’t go during our week at the beach is Buxy’s Salty Dog Saloon. Why, you ask, would I refuse to take my children to place where kids meals are served in dog bowls? Well, first of all, cause that’s gross. But more importantly, it’s because in 1990 I attempted to enter the Salty Dog with a fake ID and the bouncer didn’t let me in. To add insult to injury, he let all my friends in! Luckily, for me they were the kind of friends who didn’t go into a bar that their pal was rejected from so we all headed elsewhere but as I was walking away I said to that bouncer “You blew it, Man. I will NEVER set foot in this place. NEVER.” And twenty years later that threat is officially a promise. Never doubt the word of an angry underage Irish girl.
Speaking of underage drinking, last night we saw some more underage kids getting arrested. This time it was because they were caught with open containers. And the open containers they chose to drink out of while walking down Coastal Hwy were the infamous red plastic cups. Are you kidding me? Everyone knows that those cups are always filled with beer. What do you think my friends and I drink out of when we take our kids to the park during happy hour? Kidding. I just recently read a quote from the girl who plays Hermione in the Harry Potter movies where she was talking about adjusting to college life at Brown and she mentioned how surprised she was when she went to her first party and saw all the students drinking out of red cups just like a real life American teenage movie. So while I pitied the kids I saw getting busted on my drive here, the ones with the red cups were obviously way too dumb to get away with having a few beers. Maybe instead of a drinking age, we should have some sort of common sense test you have to pass to get served. Wow – I know I lot of old people who would need fake IDs if that were the case.
So tomorrow it ends. No more beach. Bob back to work. Mac off school and needing me to constantly amuse him and Charlie all summer long. It could get ugly. Or it could be great. We’ll see who the last man standing is at the end of the summer.
But before my summer can really get started, I need to find my friend Joe Lies. Has anyone seen him? Last I heard he was off somewhere snuggling a very sarcastic twenty-something waitress who he refuses to mix drinks for at home. If you find him, let me know.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Greetings from The OC
No, not Orange County. The other OC. Ocean City Maryland.
I’ve been here with Bobby and the little boys since last Friday and we’re staying till this Friday.
Let the crazy hijinks begin!
Here’s a little of what’s happened so far….
On the drive to the beach Friday, we passed a little seashell shop with four police cars with their lights flashing in the lot. I assumed the store had been robbed until we got closer and saw that the police had two young guys, in their late teens or early twenties, hand cuffed on the side of the lot. Next to their car was an 18 pack of beer cans. The cops had the kids’ luggage out and were going through it, throwing shirts and shorts into the dirt, while they searched for more contraband. The poor kids must have gotten pulled over for a speeding ticket or something and then the police spotted the beer they were bringing to the beach and all hell broke loose. Those kids – who definitely looked old enough to vote and go to war, mind you – just had their whole vacation ruined and possibly picked up some criminal records. I love the kind of police who stop bad people – but these kids weren’t bad people. And a little beer on Memorial Day weekend at the beach isn’t so bad either so long as you’re not driving or overdoing it too much. My friends and I chugged wine coolers and Busch beers with the best of them before we were of age and we all turned out to be fine, responsible adults without drinking problems. Give the kids a break, Smokey.
Interestingly enough, while I sympathize with young people trying to get around the drinking age, I am disgusted by young people who smoke. I just don’t understand how new smokers exist when we know so much bad about smoking now. I have no idea what’s actually good about it. And I’m sorry, I know I sound like a mom, but it looks so trashy. Over the weekend, I was in CVS here in OC and the two kids in front of me were buying cigarettes and got carded. The boy pulls out his ID and sure enough, he turned 18 in April, which proves he’s old enough to legally purchase a pack of Camels. So I say to the kid, cause I just can’t help myself, “Listen, I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but I’ve gotta know – why would someone your age take up a nasty habit like smoking that is probably going to kill you?” and the kid smiles at me and says “I’m having a nic fit”. Well, of course you are, Dummy, cause you’re 18 and you’re addicted to nicotine – my question was why would you start in the first place. But I didn’t say that because clearly I was talking to someone who was mentally disabled.
At Northside Park we saw a family all wearing matching white “wife beater” tank tops. A dad and four kids all sporting wife beaters. Naturally, they looked smooth. And watching them gave Bobby the brilliant idea for a new TV show. He called it “The Beaters” and it would center around this family who only wear wife beaters and spend their summer in Ocean City – hitting the board walk and buying tee shirts that say hilarious things like “I’m so Irish I shit Leprechauns”, taking their brood of ragamuffin kids to Seacrets for the best body on the beach contest, eating crabs, talking about the Ravens, maybe having a dip (in the pool, or between their cheek and gum, or both). After the success of Jersey Shore, “The Beaters” is a sure fire hit and unlike that MTV show, Bobby’s show would be fun for the whole family. My husband is brilliant.
Yesterday, at the pool, I completed the research on my thesis proving that the women with the fakest boobs and darkest tans on the first day of summer, will parade around waiting to be noticed and never watch their own children. If I wasn’t so busy playing with my own kids, eating yummy hot dogs and using sunscreen so I don’t turn into leather woman, I might punch one of those women. (NOTE: I have several friends who have had cosmetic surgery to enhance their breasts and are still good parents. It's not the boobs, it's the whole desperate hanging on to your youth and wanting to be Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie syndrome that leads to complete self involvement and bad parenting and incites me to want to punch someone).
Today the weather is a little overcast so we took our kids to the boardwalk instead of the pool. I’m proud to report that both boys won a full size basketball playing the carnie games. And when given the choice of any ball as a prize, both rejected the “Elmo” and “Ninja Turtles” balls aimed at kids, and made manly choices. Mac went with the O’s ball and Charlie with the Terps ball. We don’t make sissies in this family.
So four days left at the beach, and my goal is to spot a toddler wearing one of those new Huggies denim diapers with the awesome tagline “the coolest you’ll ever look pooping your pants”. I’ll keep you posted on that.
I’ve been here with Bobby and the little boys since last Friday and we’re staying till this Friday.
Let the crazy hijinks begin!
Here’s a little of what’s happened so far….
On the drive to the beach Friday, we passed a little seashell shop with four police cars with their lights flashing in the lot. I assumed the store had been robbed until we got closer and saw that the police had two young guys, in their late teens or early twenties, hand cuffed on the side of the lot. Next to their car was an 18 pack of beer cans. The cops had the kids’ luggage out and were going through it, throwing shirts and shorts into the dirt, while they searched for more contraband. The poor kids must have gotten pulled over for a speeding ticket or something and then the police spotted the beer they were bringing to the beach and all hell broke loose. Those kids – who definitely looked old enough to vote and go to war, mind you – just had their whole vacation ruined and possibly picked up some criminal records. I love the kind of police who stop bad people – but these kids weren’t bad people. And a little beer on Memorial Day weekend at the beach isn’t so bad either so long as you’re not driving or overdoing it too much. My friends and I chugged wine coolers and Busch beers with the best of them before we were of age and we all turned out to be fine, responsible adults without drinking problems. Give the kids a break, Smokey.
Interestingly enough, while I sympathize with young people trying to get around the drinking age, I am disgusted by young people who smoke. I just don’t understand how new smokers exist when we know so much bad about smoking now. I have no idea what’s actually good about it. And I’m sorry, I know I sound like a mom, but it looks so trashy. Over the weekend, I was in CVS here in OC and the two kids in front of me were buying cigarettes and got carded. The boy pulls out his ID and sure enough, he turned 18 in April, which proves he’s old enough to legally purchase a pack of Camels. So I say to the kid, cause I just can’t help myself, “Listen, I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but I’ve gotta know – why would someone your age take up a nasty habit like smoking that is probably going to kill you?” and the kid smiles at me and says “I’m having a nic fit”. Well, of course you are, Dummy, cause you’re 18 and you’re addicted to nicotine – my question was why would you start in the first place. But I didn’t say that because clearly I was talking to someone who was mentally disabled.
At Northside Park we saw a family all wearing matching white “wife beater” tank tops. A dad and four kids all sporting wife beaters. Naturally, they looked smooth. And watching them gave Bobby the brilliant idea for a new TV show. He called it “The Beaters” and it would center around this family who only wear wife beaters and spend their summer in Ocean City – hitting the board walk and buying tee shirts that say hilarious things like “I’m so Irish I shit Leprechauns”, taking their brood of ragamuffin kids to Seacrets for the best body on the beach contest, eating crabs, talking about the Ravens, maybe having a dip (in the pool, or between their cheek and gum, or both). After the success of Jersey Shore, “The Beaters” is a sure fire hit and unlike that MTV show, Bobby’s show would be fun for the whole family. My husband is brilliant.
Yesterday, at the pool, I completed the research on my thesis proving that the women with the fakest boobs and darkest tans on the first day of summer, will parade around waiting to be noticed and never watch their own children. If I wasn’t so busy playing with my own kids, eating yummy hot dogs and using sunscreen so I don’t turn into leather woman, I might punch one of those women. (NOTE: I have several friends who have had cosmetic surgery to enhance their breasts and are still good parents. It's not the boobs, it's the whole desperate hanging on to your youth and wanting to be Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie syndrome that leads to complete self involvement and bad parenting and incites me to want to punch someone).
Today the weather is a little overcast so we took our kids to the boardwalk instead of the pool. I’m proud to report that both boys won a full size basketball playing the carnie games. And when given the choice of any ball as a prize, both rejected the “Elmo” and “Ninja Turtles” balls aimed at kids, and made manly choices. Mac went with the O’s ball and Charlie with the Terps ball. We don’t make sissies in this family.
So four days left at the beach, and my goal is to spot a toddler wearing one of those new Huggies denim diapers with the awesome tagline “the coolest you’ll ever look pooping your pants”. I’ll keep you posted on that.
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