Friday, November 12, 2010

Three Random Thoughts That Look Fancy Because I Used Roman Numerals.


What IS this?

Don’t get me wrong – I let my kids do the little tattoos that you put on with water, but an entire tattoo writer, complete with super-fun tattoo gun?  When WE were little we played school.  (I was the teacher, OF COURSE, and I once tried to convince my “students” that the correct spelling of a particular southern state is Mrs. Ippy.)  We also played restaurant, but I got grounded when I used kitty litter to make my brother a lemonade.  A very special lemonade.  Now the kids get to fight over which one will be Kat Von D when they play My First Tattoo Parlor.  What’s next, Barbie’s Brothel?  G.I. Jonesin' for a Fix?


During a recent foray into refined culture and fine literature, I noticed this in my People Magazine:
"No thanks.  I had a Nerd for lunch and I don't want
to have to put on my buffet-eatin' pants."

I loves me some Dylan’s Candy Bar, mostly because it was an excellent bribe incentive for getting the boys to eat a good dinner at Patsy’s across the street.  Dylan's used to have a giant bathtub filled with gumballs that they don’t want children to touch.  Don’t ask me how I know this.  I also washed one of my children in the sink there after a particularly messy diaper blowout, the magnitude of which forced me to sheepishly tell a store employee, “you’re gonna need more paper towels.”  

But seriously, would you ever eat HALF a Tootsie Roll Midget? 

“Would you like 10 large jelly beans?  Or perhaps 16 carefully counted pieces of candy corn?”

“Whew!  No thanks!  I was gonna eat five Tootsie Roll Midgets, but I had to stop after that last half!”

In order to eat a half a Midget, one would have to hold it with two hands and gnaw on it like a chipmunk does.  I am more likely to stuff four-and-a-half Midgets in my mouth at one time than I would be to eat them in half-bite servings.  In fact, I may have done this once or twice in my lifetime.


Medium’s homework was to write a sentence, using correct capitalization and punctuation, about his mom.  How sweet, I thought!  Surely he’ll talk about how much he adores his mama.  Or maybe he’ll mention how much I love him.  Or that I take him to fun places, or that I make a mean racetrack, or that I sing crazy songs, or that I read cool books.  

But no:

Originally it was “My mom is tired every day,” but I made him amend it so his teacher won’t have visions of me hiding under the covers and refusing to get out of bed while mumbling something about how I barely have the will to live, let alone get up and make PopTarts.  Not that that would be far from the truth, but still . . .    

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Be nice, kids.