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Archive for August, 2010

I have an affliction that I believe many of my fellow countrymen live with.  Namely, I am bombarded with a ridiculous multitude of information on a daily basis; some of it useful, some of it not as much.  For the sake of self-preservation, I have learned to tune out the information that is not a top-priority in my little world.

And, as I only have one child and she isn’t yet school-aged, I did not file the tax free date in my memory bank.  As far as self-preservation goes, that was a huge mistake.  I do not believe I am being overly dramatic when I say that it was a mistake of Biblical proportions.

You see, my blue pen dried up.  And I really needed another blue pen.  Like I said, I had not filed the tax-free information in my head before I proceeded to Target this afternoon.  It seemed, somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, that there were more than the usual number of mini-vans in the parking lot.  But I was too busy scanning the horizon for crazed gunmen (as is my habit) to fully register the extra automobiles.

I went back to the school supply area – much like a lamb is led to slaughter … What I found when I got there was so horrifying … so awful … so … well, words fail me … (unlike ellipses, which never fail me).  What, you ask, was so terrifying that I was reduced to running for my life from my local Super Target?

THEY HAD RUN COMPLETELY OUT OF CRAYOLA CRAYONS – 24 PACK, 25 CENTS!!!!!

 

Mothers were weeping, children were screaming, I even saw one man pulling out his hair and begging for mercy from Above.  2 women were fighting over a package of washable markers – disheveled hair being pulled, fingers being bitten.  It was truly something I hope never to witness again.

One unfortunate child was crying huge sad tears because his mother was making him buy, of all things, Rose Art brand crayolas!  Yuck!  Who wants those anyway?  I hope the boy won that argument; I really do.

It did not go unnoticed by this blog author, however, that my replacement Cricut blades are not considered “essential” by our illustrious government; and, thus, I had to pay sales tax on them.  Which is just shy of a tragedy of Biblical proportions.

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I didn’t grow up in the 1950’s but I’ve read about the decade here and there.  From what I understand, it was a time of great scientific discovery and, as author Bill Bryson puts it, “A time when everything was good for you.”

Wouldn’t it have been fun to live in an age where everything was good for you?  Before-dinner drinks, after-dinner drinks, x-rays, sugar, lard, cigarettes, preservatives, plumes of insecticide …  My adulthood feels like the exact opposite.  Everything is bad for you.  Everything.

Well, everything except the disgusting health food crap like Omega 3 Fatty Acids that make you feel like you’re going to lose your lunch.  But it’s good for you, so you should eat your Omega 3 Fish Oil every single day – upset stomach, nausea, barfing, and excessive gas be damned!

I have heard that, in the 1950’s, some shoe stores offered feet x-rays to determine what size shoe a customer might need.  My generation looks at that and thinks, “That’s a terrible idea!  How could anyone have ever thought getting regular x-rays was perfectly safe?!”  And then that makes me wonder if, one day, my child will say to her friends, “Can you believe our mothers bought eggs and tortillas fortified with Omega 3 Fish Oil?!  What on earth were they thinking?!  And they took it while they were pregnant!  It’s a wonder we don’t all have 6 heads!”

In case you can’t read that small print, “How soon is too soon?  Not soon enough.  Laboratory tests over the last few years have proven that babies who start drinking soda during that early formative period have a much higher chance of gaining acceptance and ‘fitting in’ during those awkward pre-teen and teen years.  So, do yourself a favor.  Do your child a favor.  Start them on a strict regimine of sodas and other sugary carbonated beverages right now, for a lifetime of guaranteed happiness.”

So that’s why I was such an awkward kid … not enough Coke!

In short, while I would hate to have lived during the 1960’s and had to have eaten crap like tomato aspic with green olives and rosemary bar-b-que sauce, I would love to have lived during the 1950’s when it was socially acceptable (and even encouraged) to feed your baby Coca-Cola.

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I have some … quirks.

Namely, I tend to laugh hysterically at things that no one else gets.  Which can be pretty embarrassing when I’m in the grocery store randomly laughing because I’m standing in the exact spot where I first discovered two little boys braying like donkeys 6 months earlier.  Or because I remember Amy Poehler in an episode of “Parks and Recreation” saying her niece’s name was Torple.  Torple cracks me up.  I think I want to name my next child Torple.

It’s always a good time when I go into a public bathroom where a mother is attempting to calm a child throwing a tantrum.  That is like a comedic gold mine for me.  I like to go up to the woman, nod with a sympathetic look, and then say, “Wow.  That must be embarrassing.  I’m glad my child never behaves like that.  Ever.”  And then laugh hysterically.  Sometimes, for a little added genius, I’ll give her some BS piece of parenting advice, “You haven’t been giving little Junior his daily dose of bunny seed essential fatty farm gecko oil have you?  tsk tsk tsk!  I would also recommend a grasshopper essential eyeball herb supplement; you can find it in liquid form at any health food store.”  That’s the best.

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