Wednesday, September 03, 2008

We Have "Issues"

Today's post is a buffet of stories. None of them are tied together, really. That's the way it goes sometimes. Like at those Chinese-American buffets, where you can have wonton soup, lasagna and catfish.
And then polish everything off with a nice bowl of soft-serve ice cream.



If I were the type of blogger who courted and permitted comments, I would ask for your response to the following question:

What is the worst thing you said to your kids this week?

I would open the e-discussion with my own confessions of actions that left me neither proud nor relieved:

1. "Put your filthy hands in that bucket of ice cream one more time, and I swear I will cut off every single one of your fingers." (sentiment expressed to my 10-year-old who has a nasty habit of holding an eating utensil in one hand and digging in bowls and buckets with the other)

2. "See this?! It's a classified section! It's full of ads for very nice apartments that I can choose from! And believe me, I will, and I will live there alone and won't have to clean up after any of you. Do you understand me?" (shouted at the top of my lungs as I waved a newspaper in the air and then stomped from bedroom to bedroom, picking up stray dolls and filthy socks and wondering out loud what in the WORLD I did to deserve such disregard for order and cleanliness; at the end of my tirade, I sounded like Brenda Vaccaro and couldn't stop coughing)

.........................................

If it were 1995, would this headline have made any sense to you?

Google Chrome Mostly Glitters (headline from, you guessed it, Google)

How 'bout this?


Google's Chrome browser is fast and lightweight, with fresh and welcome user interface innovations. But it's still early beta software -- and it shows. (headline from InformationWeek, Sept. 3, 2008)

Ever feel like the world is moving much too fast and you'd like for it to slow down just a little so you can hop off and go eat a funnel cake or something?

.........................................

While waiting for Gustav ...
"Hey, Mama, it isn't smart to eat a burrito after your wedding, is it?"
"No, I suppose it probably isn't."
"MAMA ... look over HERE."
So I turned from MSNBC only to find Ken -- of Barbie and Ken -- doubled over with stomach cramps and wearing THIS:




And then I heard her repeat, "It isn't smart to eat a burrito after your wedding."

What does this mean? Too much TV? Changes in barometric pressure? Need for therapy? You tell me because I'd love to know.

.........................................

I love my kids. Each and every one of them. Even when they eat with their hands. And even when they're messy and can't remember to clean up after themselves. Which is often.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Finally, Hurricane and Football Seasons are Here!


One month to the day, our most recent visit to New Orleans was marked by the arrival of Gustav. Our closest New Orleans friends (pictured above on Aug. 1) report no major damage. They didn't have the good sense to seek shelter, so they just sat there, looking out over the Mississippi. While they did get soaked, they didn't lose an arm or anything in the strong winds. New Orleans folks are a hardy lot.



My son's first girlfriend (pictured above) reports that the French Market, where she lives, received only "horrible, horrible rain" and wind gusts that, while strong, didn't even mess up her hair. Asked if Gustav's strength might have been overestimated last week, she had only this to say: "I never estimate a man's strength. They talk a lot of smack, so you never know how strong they really are anyway." This did not set well with her boyfriend, who found this disrespectful and has since written her off.

More smack ... Speaking of talking smack, during the Auburn game Saturday night, three young people who apparently didn't score student tickets this year found themselves in Middle-Class Suburban Section 34. During the second quarter, one young man's braggish tales of romantic conquests escalated to an unacceptable level. It must have been my glare that prompted his female friend to say, "Gosh, Brandon, shut up! Keep your voice down!" At which point I turned around and said, "Thank you. I couldn't take it much longer." Brandon, however, seemed offended. "Here's the thing, Brandon," I told him. "I'm sitting here with, like, six kids. And none of us really needs to hear this."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I'm used to sitting in the student section."

"Well, Brandon, clearly this is not the student section. You need to be more aware of where you are. The adult section isn't impressed."

Brandon didn't say anything else because, I suppose, he was too busy sucking on the half-dozen miniature Jim Beam bottles that he left behind when he and his entourage exited the stadium at the beginning of the third quarter. They also left behind a nice pair of sunglasses, which I brought home and soaked in antibacterial soap and will call "mine." These will replace the nice pair of $6 sunglasses I bought at Target two weeks earlier -- the same sunglasses that leave marks on the sides of my head and give me an excruciating headache. This is not a side effect you can anticipate when you spend six hard-earned dollars at a retailer like Target. My reward for enduring some 14 days of discomfort, all in the name of retinal protection, AND Brandon's boorish monologue during the first half of a football game is Brandon's pair of high-quality sunglasses. Or Brandon's friend's sunglasses.

Thanks, Brandon!