I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You
One of the awful, terrible, annoying side effects of parenthood is that I can no longer just enjoy American Idol for the fluffy piece of SPUN FLUFF it is meant to be. Oh no no no. I can’t even get off on watching the asshole kids who think they can sing screw up royally and stomp off into the ether. OH NO NO NO. NOPE. What am I doing instead? I’m getting choked up and upset and and thinking THAT IS SOMEONE’S CHILD. (Yes, feel free to punch me, because isn’t THAT annoying as fuck.) And when I *do* get angry? I’m angry at the parents. I’m angry that the parents encouraged their kid to make a total ass of themselves on national television and were so freakin’ BLINDED BY LOVE that they thought their child could sing!
Please. Please give me the wisdom and strength to stop my child from auditioning for American Idol if, indeed, she cannot sing. Give me the courage to redirect her into something she CAN do, even if that thing is something as mundane as BASKET WEAVING.
Speaking of my progeny, did I tell you guys we spent Friday afternoon at the pediatrician’s office because I found a — wait for it — LUMP in my child’s, um, BREAST? Yes. Fantastic. I mean, don’t you think ten months old is a bit YOUNG to initiate BSE’s? Seriously, y’all, it was a fracking MASS. A MASS. Well, it IS a mass, I should say. As it turns out, however, it is a normal mass, and the result of her picking up MY hormones in the womb and WOW BIOLOGY IS SOME FREAKY, DISTURBING SHIT.
In thrilling news, I have lost eight pounds. Eight! On my Wii Fit! For SERIOUS! Yes, there are diet changes as well, but honestly, nothing too drastic. I eat pretty healthily as it is, and though I cut my portions a little (and by “a little,” I mean, “Stop sticking your face in the feed bag like it’s some kind of endless TROUGH”). The worst part? You can’t even tell, swear to Jebus. You can’t tell! It’s all the SAME up in this piece. My Mii still has a muffin top, it still hollers at me that I’m overweight, and it STILL says “Oh!” in a horribly accusatory tone when I step on to start a new exercise. You guys, all I want to do is fit into my old jeans and pants so I don’t have to buy new ones. THAT IS ALL I WANT. Am lazy! And ironically, the way to maintain my laziness is to exercise. Yes, friends, in the battle between exercise and buying new clothes, I have chosen exercise as the lesser of two evils. That’s how much I hate shopping.
And finally, because a day is not a day unless I’m kvetching about something meaningless and yet strangely offensive to a select group of people: Do you know what I find very strange? When people parade their significant others out there as pieces of meat for others to envy. I find it weirder if it’s your husband. Yes, I get that you love him and yes, he’s adorable, but … I … what? Are you REALLY trying to make me COVET your husband? I think that’s odd! I do! I mean, do YOU like him? Awesome! Good thing you married him! Hooray for you! I love my husband, too.
Believe me, it’s not that I don’t want to hear about your relationship, because I do! I really do! And I’m SO GLAD he is awesome and I want to hear how thoughtful he is, because I think YOU are great and you deserve it, but I don’t … I don’t know, I guess there is a TONE in the way some people refer to their significant others that is a little ODD, and I am doing a VERY BAD JOB of explaining this, but I think it’s WEIRD when I’m being put into a position that, again, I’m feeling like you’re trying to make me JEALOUS of the fact that you have a hot husband and I … eh?
This is not limited to the blog world, I must hastily add. This is one of those UNIVERSAL phenomenons that perplexes me offline and on in equal measure.
Again, I ask, does this make sense?
No. No it doesn’t. BUT IT IS WEIRD, YOU MUST TRUST ME.
Happy Wednesday! I have to make three loaves of banana bread for playgroup, and again, I tell you, I’m starting to feel like I have an elementary schooler who constantly needs CUPCAKES. BAH.
*Black Kids
31 comments January 19th, 2010