2010 Mother-Son Impulse Control Bootcamp
We are sitting in a circle.
Or alternately, I am sitting and the Chalupa is running around like an insane midget on crack.
DRILL SERGEANT: Ladies, you are here today because you are enthusiastic. Boisterous. Emotional. You want something, you take it. You are ruled by impulse.
You’re like your toddlers, who are here today for essentially the same reason. Except that they yell, kick, throw and steal.
You with the over-eager smile! Tell us your story.
ME: (smile faltering) Well, I come from a long-line of loud, inappropriate enthusiasts.
My father once put a bumper sticker that said “Equal Rights For Women Now” on his Muslim friend’s car as a joke. In Saudi Arabia.
(shamefully) I was raised on Mel Brooks and John Belushi.
(whispering now) My reflexes were honed at Mexican restaurants with the chips and salsa basket. It was go fast or go hungry.
DRILL SERGEANT: Excuses. Nothing but excuses, grunt.
I know your kind. You buy a dozen snickerdoodle cookies at the market, eat three-quarters in one sitting and throw the rest away, denying your family their sacred cookie right!
ME: It would be wrong to eat the entire box in one sitting.
DRILL SERGEANT: It says in your file that you not only sing in cars, but that you sing loudly and with the wrong lyrics.
ME: Being in a car makes me happy! The toddler is restrained, the sky is blue, Katy Perry is on the radio! And I am always on key, except with certain Kelly Clarkson songs, and don’t you feel moved when you’re cruising down the highway and “Ramble On” just happens to come on and shouldn’t everyone in the car be singing when you hear a Beatles song, because that is a solid gold sign from the heavens that all is right in the world?
As for the wrong lyrics, it’s called improv. It’s called feeling the music. And if “Promiscuous” Ms. Furtado doesn’t appreciate that Timbaland was “at a loss of words first time” cause he choked, that’s her problem.
DRILL SERGEANT: What about singing when you eat? Because that’s four kinds of wrong.
ME: It’s more of a happy humming, interspersed with grunts of appreciation and exclamations of deep contentment. Which is totally out of my control! Food is the first step on the Path To An Enlightened Waistline.
DRILL SERGEANT: Shut your trap, Scooby Doo. Is there anything else you’d like to confess before we begin the Transformation to Automaton-Matron?
ME: Well, I must admit that I am a Constant Narrator of the Stage & Screen. It’s a God-Given talent. How else will my husband and family know how I really feel when Anthony Bourdain eats at Le Comptoir in Paris? Or who’s going to die at the end of “Body of Lies?” Or why Leonardo DeCaprio’s exchange with Hani Pasha is complete foreshadowing? Or whether deus ex machina can be used in “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” to remove Scott from the picture completely?
I also happen to be the Golden Retriever Puppy of First Impressions. Yes, I am. I want people to like me. I talk too much. I share too much about myself within the first 15 minutes. And I use questionable language. So there’s that. Maybe I should tone it down and not bound into a room and lick people’s faces and knock them down with the power of my personality. Maybe I should try the Stately and Elegant Poodle Impression?
DRILL SERGEANT: Maybe you should. Yes, I think you’re ready, soldier. Please approach the Avatar Transformation Booth.
ME: For real? Like in the movie? You want me to lie down in that thing?
DRILL SERGEANT: And when you awake, you will inhabit another body. One that lives quietly. Appropriately. One that doesn’t bring shame to your family.
Your avatar will wear khakis and cashmere. Its hair will be blown dry and the laugh lines will be gone. Because its laughs quietly. Appropriately.
Your avatar’s name will be Elin.
ME: Listen you Dumbass-Fugazi-Nazi-Figment-Of-My-Imagination, I’m no Tiger. Yes, I happen to be loud, embarrassing, and slightly mentally off balanced, but at least I’m fun. And not in the I’ve-Banged-500-Prostitutes-Arrogant-Kind-of-Way.
I have, however, controlled the impulse to slap you upside the head.
Stop kicking the man, Chalupa.
We have places to go and people to offend.
______________________________
Proud participant
Fugazi: artificial, fake, false, can be in reference to a thing of person
YAY!!!!!!!
ENCORE! ENCORE!
this was exceptional.
I especially liked that last part about the Chalupa kicking the drill sergeant. I hope he got him real good in the shin.
I think I prefer the golden retriever you. Yes, yes I do.
Thanks, Roxane! Golden retrievers ARE more likable than poodles, right?
I’m laughing too much to think up a clever comment. So, to avoid looking all Fugazi by saying something extremely corny and inappropriate, just pretend I spewed a bunch of witty praise here. And it was very sincere!
xoxo
Props for Fugazi usage. Very impressed. And quite witty!
Thanks for stopping by.
Kick Chalupa, KICK!
Wow, you’ve got some deep, unresolved issues with the Tiger-Elin marriage, eh?
Oh, don’t get me started, Liz. Can’t get the People article with Elin outta my head.
Let your freak flag fly, mama chalupa!!
Baby chalupa, you can “sense” the fear of those who want us all to be the same. They fear the different, and you sense this, kick on, li’l bro, kick on!
As for what I can tell you, I didn’t get to reach the age of 85 unscathed without learning a thing or two: I school you in these matters of long term survival since you’ve obviously and evidently chosen the road less travelled (which will make all the difference in the world.)
#1.)Being constant narrator of stage and screen. Compromise. Choose your scenes carefully. It’ll help you make friends and influence people.
#2.) As for the stately and elegant poodle stance? We all know, that mama always told us not to look into the eyes of the sun, but, mama, that’s where the fun is…
1) Are you saying I’m a freak? That’s very astute of you.
2) Thank you for the advice. I would love to make friends and have a great influence over people. Maybe this is what has been holding me back.
3) So THAT’S where the fun is!
Love you, Empress!
Oh my, where do you get these ideas from for your posts? I so look forward to reading them. Never submit, no one wants a Stepford Wife for a mother
Singing in the car is absolutely a sign of life being lived – anyone who does not turn up the volume for their favorite tracks and rock it out (sorry that’s just me, a non-country music lover but you get the gist) is not really living from the neck up in my view. Good food requires noises of appreciation too – it tastes even better that way. But talking during movies, well I’m just glad I don’t have to watch with you 
Aw, come on, Jane! Watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey with my hilarious narration is more fun than having your fingernails pulled out!
Crap. Your writing is shaming me into writing a post for my blog that’s actually funny like yours. Damn you, Chalupa. Damn you & your chips and salsa.
I’m honored by your comment, but you can stop lying now Wendy. Let us not forget the crossing guard post. Or the Bunny Ranch mug post (or Cat House). Whatever it was called, it was comic genius.
Um, why have I not been hanging out on your blog before? Way too funny.
I was raised on Mel Brooks, as well. And a little Lenny Bruce. Some George Carlin. But also some Tim Conway, Bob Newhart and Bill Cosby. Basically, the way I view the world, much like my comedic sensibilities, is borderline schizophrenic. It works for me, though.
I landed here via your guest post over at Good Day Regular People. Thank you, Empress!
George Carlin! Bob Newhart! YEAH! Love those guys. We would get along well.
I’m with Wendi…I’m off to huddle in the corner and cry.
PS I am not worthy of your blogroll
You rock – don’t cry, Yuliya! Unless that counts as influencing people. Because that’s kind of cool (see Empress’ post).
The ONLY thing better than singly loudly in the car; “seat dancing” while doing it. People stay way the hell out of your way! Just don’t forget where you are and drive past your house. And do not become a Poodle.
Thank, Empress for the newly found jewel!
Seat dancing is the best! Yes, I am guilty of that too. It’s better than texting while driving, I suppose.
Seat dancing is best when listening to the Beatles; or any member of the Beatles. Favorite driving song? “Drive My Car” …BEEP BEEP YEAH!
Of course, it’s so much better when you’re in traffic, music turned up; and you hit the horn at every “Beep Beep!” YEAH!!!
God, this is brilliant. No, not that your God, just I’m, like, commenting to God because there is no one else here. Like if my husband was here, I’d say, hey, BigB, this is brilliant. He wouldn’t get it, but again, not the point.
It’s brilliant. There.
Empress, wow. you look great for your age.
Thanks, Chicken! Can I call you Chicken? Like in the movie “Covergirl” with Rita Hayworth and Gene Kelly? Don’t worry, I won’t tell you what happens at the end. I’m learning my lesson. Slowly.
you are four kinds of perfect, my friend. that’s what you are.
and, appropriateness is HIGHLY overrated. much like fruit and vegetable consumption and bathing regularly. those are the type of things that an ‘Elin’ would do, and all that got her was embarrassment and potential itchy bits.
ps- somehow i doubt any of the Kardashians knows what ‘deus ex machina’ is or is even able to pronounce it
I knew you would understand my lack of appropriateness. And yes, the Kardashians would think deus ex machina is a form of German S&M.
*waving hand enthusiatically*
Me! Me!! I sing loudly and with made up words!! Mostly about Poop!!
Dude, poop songs rock. Or so my toddler tells me.
*snort! laugh! giggle!*
I am loud. I work with hearing impaired people all day, and I can’t always turn it off properly.
That’s my story and I am TOTALLY STICKING TO IT.
Drill sergeant would totally rip me a new one.
See, at least you have an excuse for being loud! I got nothing! I’m even reading what I type in my head loudly. Pathetic.
If you don’t sing…LOUDLY….when a Beatles song comes on the radio, then there would clearly be something wrong with you. Also when one comes on the speakers in a store. I don’t make these rules, I just live by them.
Exactly. Ah, the Beatles. Perfection, n’est pas?
Pfft. That drill sergeant would be no f*cking match for thigh high leather boots and riding crop.
You could borrow them, if you like.
Or, perhaps the Chalup could take the riding crop?
He’s probably more comfy with it, what with not being the Golden Retriever of the group.
(That little analogy made me laugh.)
HEART.
- B x
It hadn’t occurred to me, but you’re right! It’s all in the wardrobe and accessories! I am going clothes shopping for my over-active imagination ASAP.
I prefer retrievers over poodles and would willingly let you lick my face if we met. If you try to sniff my crotch, I’m taking you’re ass to the pound.
It’s funny you wrote that because, yes, crotch-sniffing occurred to me as well. And I freakin’ hate it when dogs do that. Awkward! Hi there! Yeah, your beloved pooch is checking out the nether regions – how’s work going?
Go, Chalupa, go!! I much prefer Golden Retrievers to those sassy, stuck-up poodles….and I would totally share my birthday box of (can you believe?) Snickerdoodles, sitting right here on.my.counter.
But you had best get here quickly.
Are they gone? I’ll be over in a flash! A whole BOX of snickerdoodles? And happy birthday, btw!
Well I had a witty comment prepared and then saw Poppy’s comment and got distracted and well, let me just say, crotch sniffing by any species is just plain disgusting. My Lab does it and then leaves wet nose prints on my crotch and then I’m left to explain that it was my dog and no, I did not piss myself and…SEE! Distracted! Dammit!
Poppy always leaves the best comments. You wonder, does she spend time thinking them up or BAM! Does she just whip em out?
I love that you have to explain you didn’t piss yourself.
I agree with Wendi! The chips basket made me LOL (and Daddy? Why is your drink so HUGE?)
xo
Hold up! I made Ann’s Rants LOL? WAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Okay, I’m good now.
Wait…singing loudly with the wrong lyrics is a staple in my car! Especially when its faux-rapping…think Justin Bieber…oops did I say that outloud?
Haha!! Love your post! You are awesome!
Faux rapping takes serious skills. I’m jealous.
Elin here, I have nothing to say about this. But I will smile ever so slightly. Make of that what you will.
Which by Elin standards is a roaring guffaw! Thank you!
I.love.you. That is all. That and “Ramble On” is one of my favorite songs in the world
“An insane midget on crack” is flippin’ awesome.
I’ll have to finish reading this later…when I’m not work…and can laugh freely.
Like Tiger sings Katy Perry in the car. He may do something else to her in the car, but it ain’t singing.
Love this. So funny.