On Being a Holiday Poseur…

This past Saturday night I realized two things. I hadn’t gotten any Easter basket stuff for the kids and I had not a single acceptable thing to wear to dinner on Easter Sunday with my in-laws.

If jeans and t-shirts were a viable option or wearing black on Easter Sunday wasn’t generally frowned upon, I’d have been all set but alas, Easter is the holiday of pastels and nice, lady-like attire, which are things that my wardrobe is sorely lacking. Not that I mind, though, because I just feel like a big old poseur when I’m wearing such things anyway.

It actually reminds me of going home for the holidays during college and well into my twenties and feeling like such a misfit with my regular wardrobe that I would actually shop before my trip for something bland and suburban that would make me blend in a little better because being the thrift store-clad black sheep at those large family gathering? Is not fun.

Clearly, I still feel compelled to perform the same ritual before attending gatherings with my in-laws because I actually went to the evil empire (Wal-mart) on Saturday night (because Target was about to close) and not only procured Easter candy and related tchotchkes but also a few shirts in bright, peppy Easter egg-like colors with the intention that I could pair them with some bright, peppy capri pants that I secured for some other “Yes, I’m a total fraud” event. I even bought myself a pair of spring-friendly sandals since all my other sandals have seen better days.

So yes. I spent my Saturday night at Wal-Mart buying candy and clothes which is only slight less humiliating than the following Sunday morning conversation with my six year old daughter wherein we are discussing what I am going to wear to Easter since I’d said the night before that I didn’t have diddly squat –

TQ: Mommy, you can wear this shirt for Easter *holds up my new sky blue top* It’s perfect for Easter and it doesn’t even matter that it’s a maternity shirt.

Me: Wha??? Why do you think it’s a maternity shirt?

TQ: Because it’s GIGAAAAANTIC!!! *runs off laughing*

Kids say the darnedest things, don’t they?

And yes, I did don my “gigaaaantic” shirt for Easter and would you believe that for the first time ever everyone was dressed casually in jeans? Yes. Due to cool weather they dressed in jeans while I’m wearing this hideously bright blue shirt and coordinating plaid pastel capri pants and looking like a total dork-ass Easter egg.

The moral of this story is?

Um… Be yourself?

Buy better clothes?

Be better prepared so you don’t have to settle for the rather limited selection at Wal-Mart?

Don’t be embarrassed about looking like a schlub in front of your in-laws because one day they will all surprise you and wear jeans to Easter dinner?

Select tighter shirts so your daughter doesn’t think you bought maternity clothes?

I need to go on “What Not to Wear”?

Anyone?

Bueller?

Bueller?

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Do you see the picture of the kitty at the top of my right sidebar? Can you click it and then click the purple button to feed a shelter animal? It costs you NOTHING and you can do it every day.

Would you please do those two little mouse clicks. Purty please?

Thanks in advance to all you good, kindhearted animal lovers. I knew we could count on you :)

An Open Letter to Parents Shopping with their Kids

Dear Moms & Dads Out Shopping with Your Kids,

I know that sometimes it seems like a good idea to have your three and four year olds out shopping with you after 10pm at night because… Well, I don’t KNOW why this would seem like a good idea to you but judging by the sheer number of families doing it this holiday season, you clearly feel that it is.

It’s not that I minded the incessant whining and crying and hyperactivity of your little ones everywhere I went in my local Target. Kids will be kids. I have two of my own so I totally get it. What I DID mind was having to listen repeatedly to an assortment of parents yelling at their kids and doling out one empty threat after another to them.

Let’s get real here, people. At 10:30pm, your small children should be no place except in bed. If they are whining, it’s because they’re TIRED. If they’re losing their shit over every little thing, it’s because they’re EXHAUSTED. If they’re running around like you just shot ‘em full of meth, it’s because they’re OVERTIRED. You’ve been parents for what looks to be 3-4 years now. How is it that you don’t know this by now and what in holy hell makes you think that yelling your fool heads off at them is going to change anything?

Honestly, you sound like a bunch of assholes hollering at your kids and threatening to “take all their presents away” if they don’t start “acting right.” If anything was going to work, it would be that particular threat but when you’ve already said it ten times to a kid so tired she looks drunk, the odds are not in your favor.

And before you try to tell me that you had to bring them because you don’t have a sitter, I’d like to point out your significant other, who appears to be perfectly capable of staying home with the kids while you go shopping. You could even alternate a few times so you each have a chance to shop.

The bottom line here is that no matter how frustrated you are or how hard a day you’ve had, you can’t take it out on your kids. It isn’t their fault that you kept them out so late and frankly, you’re really crapping all over the holidays for your children, as well as everyone who has had to listen to you.

Give it up and take your kids home already.

Sincerely,
IzzyMom

Thank You for Not Voting?

Oh. My. God. I just got back from voting a little while ago and I’m still in disbelief that people like this haven’t already been killed off by natural selection.

As I was leaving the voting facility, I heard the old man who was working the door asking someone “Are you sure you don’t want to vote?”

I looked to my left as I exited to see a young man of about 19 or 20 sitting on the bench with a companion. They appeared to be waiting for someone.

He replied, “Nah. I’m not voting. It’s too much trouble.”

Now I know it’s none of my business and obviously I would be sticking my nose into someone else’s conversation but I just couldn’t help myself.

Me to Him: Did you just say you’re not voting because it’s too much trouble?

Him: Yeah

Me: Seriously?

Him: Yeah

Me: But you’re already here. You just go in and show your ID and vote. There’s not even a line. Takes less than five minutes. It’s easy!

I’m practically begging the guy to vote.

Him: Nah. I don’t feel like it.

Me: Really?

Him: *blink* He doesn’t even have the good sense to look embarrassed.

Me: Do you ever complain about the government? Do you ever watch the news and get mad? Aren’t there any laws you disagree with? Anything? If so, you should vote.

Him: I only watch AFL and Sportscenter.

Me: Wow. *shaking my head, I walk away*

Him: Thank you! I’m assuming that was supposed to clever…

Upon further reflection, perhaps it’s best that he didn’t vote.* I mean he watches arena football exclusively, for God’s sake.

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*This line is bolded for the benefit of anyone considering leaving a comment to the effect that I should be happy that someone so clueless didn’t vote etc. I agree and as noted, I’ve already made that point. Thank you :)

Pole Dancing! The Cure for Childhood Obesity

This is my 200th post! And 200 is significant because?

Uh, I guess it isn’t. Moving on then…

So have you heard the one about the stripper poles being sold as toys? Accidentally, of course. In a nutshell, this UK supermarket chain called Tesco mistakenly had these stripper pole kits for sale on their web site IN THE TOY SECTION!

Ooopsy!

Yeah, they allege that it was an error that they were placed in the toy section of the site — and perhaps that’s true — but then they said this:

“Tesco last night denied the pole dancing kit was sexually oriented and said it was clearly marked for “adult use”

So yeah, they claim the stripper pole isn’t actually a toy (noooo! really?) and that it’s also not sexually-oriented (even though the package invites one to “Unleash the sex kitten inside”).

Ummmm…okay, then.

So what the hell IS it?

It’s a FITNESS item, you dolt! Must I explain everything??? Geez…

One particularly brilliant commenter, Valerie of Gateshead, says:

Common sense should prevail here, there are those parents who will be outraged and those parents who see it as a way of their children using it to keep fit, in the end it will rest on the parent’s integrity.

She’s kidding, right? There aren’t really parents who see pole dancing as a way for their children to keep fit, are there?

Even their sons?

Valerie? Anyone?

Are people actually this dumb?

I’m thinking yes.

Anyway, deservedly or not, Tesco is being ripped a new one. *snicker*

(Thanks Karen)

Have you seen the hugging video yet? I guess it’s been out for a week or two and it finally turned up in my email box today.

It’s so inspiring that I want to go out and do it, too. This is some serious feel-good video.

Happy weekend, all!

Okay, Where are the Cameras?

I went to the 24 hour CVS tonight to pick up a few things, including some cough syrup and a decongestant because I have yet another kindergarten cold.

As I exited the cold medicine aisle, marveling over how one human body can manufacture so much snot, I spotted Jennifer Weiner’s new book and stopped to take a gander. I was flipping around, trying to decide if the book of short stories was any good when I heard an accented voice next to me.

“Excuse me”

I look over to see a nicely-groomed blondish guy, not really “hott” but not scary nasty, either. Apparently, he is speaking to um…me.

“Yes?”

“I would like to tell you that you are very beautiful” he said, spoken slowly and in an accent I cannot identify; possibly Russian or eastern European.

Huh? I mean I’m having a pretty good hair day and I know a woman with a phlegmy cough is SO irresistible but seriously…this is like Candid Camera or something, right? Where is Allen Funt?

But instead I just smile and say “thank you” because I can’t even remember the last time a person of the male persuasion complimented me, which is kind of pathetic on my part. I mean he could be a con artist or serial killer or something and I’m smiling at him.

But wait…I can see he’s winding up to say something else.

“I would like to ask you…”

Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You need some money for a cab because your car is broken down.

Or you need help picking out tampons for your sister/girlfriend/roomate.

Or…I’ve got it! You want me to buy you beer because you lost your passport, right?

“…can we go to a date together?”

The hell? A date? You want to go to a date? I glance over my shoulder looking for the cameras as I tell him in my trés sexay (read: hoarse) Demi Moore voice that I am married. I even show him my ring just in case he wants to debate the point. But he doesn’t. He just say’s “Oh, okay” and hightails it out of there.

I’m not totally convinced that he didn’t have an ulterior motive because seriously, what normal guy is hitting on older women in a drugstore at 11:30 pm?

He could be part of some foreign white slavery ring that specializes in frumpy American housewives because a certain sultan overseas prefers them and his M.O. is to find them out alone at night and flatter them and convince them to go out with him and when they do, he kidnaps them.

Stop rolling your eyes already. It could happen.

I told hubz when I came home and he laughed.

Laughed, dammit!