On a Day Like Today

First of all, American Idol is a mockery. For the record, I’ve been pro-Blake since day one, so don’t take this the wrong way, but Jordin Sparks is fake. She cries on cue, manipulates the audience and for crying out loud, she was busting her ass to get more camera time tonight, wheras Blake at least had the decency to step back and, I don’t know, LET MELINDA SING.

That being said, there will be a wide variety of dialing for dollars for Blake in the Jonniker household, and like Grey’s Anatomy, I think it might be time for me to cut the cord with American Idol next season, and if I so much as mention it, please drag my bare ass along a rusty pole on your way home from work.

Moving on! I’ve done a lot of navel-gazing about what I will and won’t do as a parent, and while the general consensus seems to be that you never really know until you’re faced with the situation, allow me to illustrate the one thing I can guarantee I will never, ever do.
I was chatting with one of my neighbors and his wife last night, along with their one-year old daughter – we’ll call her Teagan – and the subject of T’s sleep schedule came up, blah blah sleepycakes, that’s not the point. The point is that the conversation went something like this:

J: So, T’s sleeping through the night! That’s wonderful!

T’s dad, Dave: Oh yes, when we get ready for bed, she gets one round of booby na-nas, and then she passes out for the night!

J: …booby na-nas?

D: Oh yes, well, that’s what we call breastfeeding in our house. Booby na-nas! BOOBIES! She loves booby na-nas, don’t you T! Who’s ready for some booby na-nas! WHO IS READY FOR SOME BOOBY NA-NAS AND NIGH NIGHT?

J: …

So there you have it. While I’m sure that everyone has one, I can guarantee that I will never refer to my personal pet name for breastfeeding on the street, and I certainly won’t toss it out in casual conversation like it’s no big deal to a near stranger, because booby na-nas? Seriously? There’s no reason for that. And coming from a dude, it’s just creepy. And the sing-song voice just topped it off like some kind of pervy-sounding frosting.

Booby na-nas. Honestly. *shakes head*

Other than that, I had a mildly crappy day full of back-to-back meetings, office moves and phones that just wouldn’t work, and all told, I worked for 13 hours. During one of those hours, I discovered that my new office-mate is a loud eater, and with each bite of chicken nuggets, I died a little inside. The sound of creamy chicken salad being stirred (THANKS A LOT ANDREA) was rampant, and I may never eat at work again.

Fittingly, the day ended with me taking out an entire Mike’s Hard Cranberry Lemonade display at the supermarket, when all I wanted was my sad little Lean Cuisine pizza for a 10 p.m. dinner, continental microwave-style. Three cases of Mike’s unloaded all over me, and sticky and gross, but very, very fragrant. And sexy.

*Keane

17 comments May 16th, 2007