Except that would mean being all technical.
Use your imagination. Aren’t those little leprechauns in the sidebar adorable?
This week’s pu-pu platter is a truly tasty assortment. It will go well with that hangover you’re sporting since you’re most likely reading this the day after St. Patty’s. Unless you have kids. Then you’re just used to the consistent hangover of sleep-deprivation.
LAST ONE THERE IS A ROTTEN SPERM:
Last week, as my husband and I were mindlessly channel-surfing, we happened to pause on the National Geographic channel. DUDE. I can barely find the words to describe what I saw. The title of the program: “Sizing Up Sperm.” Sounds fairly harmless, right? Except for the fact that some genius decided it would be a good idea to have the sperm be played by REAL PEOPLE. Picture, if you will, hundreds of men and women in white jump suits – looking distinctly like escaped convicts – running through a mountain canyon. The canyon being THE VAGINA. But how do they find the egg, you ask? Dunno. We changed the channel before being subjected to the cervical fluid. The hilarity value is off the chart, but it is unfortunately counterbalanced by the radioactive level of That’s Some Messed Up Sh*t.
TRAVELING LOCO – I MEAN SOLO:
I’ve blogged about my fear of flying with the Chalupa alone, and as the trip approaches, I am receiving lots of tips. From the playgroup: do NOT bring the car seat. Um, thanks. I kind of have to, but now I feel extra confident about it. From the dentist: drug the Chalupa. Ah, if only my son were a root canal that I could numb with Novocaine. No, with my luck the Chalupa would have the opposite reaction to Benadryl and go haywire.
From my father: the video of the NY Times’ Frugal Traveler who took his one-year old daughter to San Francisco alone. I watched avidly, only to learn with dismay that (1) the baby is a very laid-back, well-behaved child and (2) that the Frugal Traveler is also a very laid-back individual. Dear Frugal Traveler: Where is the meltdown? Where is the picky eating? Where is the getting up 3 times a night because your kid knows they are in a new place? The only difficulty that Frugal Traveler alludes to is changing the baby’s diaper on the plane. All I see, however, is a kid laying there peacefully and WAVING to the camera.
But despite my desire to see actual footage of how people cope with tough situations, I have to give credit where credit is due. How many dads do YOU know that travel alone with their kid? So props, Frugal Traveler.
THE PATH TO ENLIGHTENMENT:
Begins with being accepted to preschool. A big, fat packet arrived in the mail the other week and you’d think the Chalupa had just been accepted to Harvard, received his pilot’s license, translated the Bhagavad Gita into Kurdish, reversed the national deficit, and solved the health care crisis. All of which is only a few years away now that he’s going to preschool. Finally, the Chalulpa is on his way to fulfilling our – I mean, his dreams.
SLIDING DOWN FROM HEAVEN ON A STRIPPER POLE:
I have found a wonderful new way to kill brain cells at an alarming rate: the new TV show “Pretty Wild.” You know it’s good when the LA Times says, “Western civilization comes just a little closer to its final collapse.” This show completely justifies the world’s theory that raising teenage girls is a hellish and insane endeavor. To this I say, “Listen world, that’s what happens when you get your daughters hooked on Adderall, home school them based entirely on the movie “The Secret,” and whore them out as lingerie models.”
“It says in the song, ‘Sliding down from heaven on a stripper pole,’ and I was, like, well, that’s totally me.”
How fantastic is that? Her mother must be so proud. Sadly, I think she really is. All I know is that this show slid down from heaven into my awaiting DVR and for that, TV gods, I thank you.
So until next time, my friends, may we all aspire to profit from selling our children’s souls to the devil.
Which is only marginally worse than growing up to be Sperm #719,567.