01 March 2008

Pay attention, parents

I'm only trying to help, parents. I'm on YOUR side. I'm not one of you, but that is to your advantage, because I haven't drunk the same Koolaid that you have been drinking. Trust cranky old Auntie Suebob, because I had perfect parents who taught me:

1. Children do NOT need a birthday party every single year. A 3-year-old does not need a party that requires invitations and planning. Cake, ice cream, family, a present or two. STOP AT THAT POINT. Nothing else is required. THEY WILL NOT REMEMBER THE PARTY OR THE LACK THEREOF. Promise. Relax. Breathe.

2. You do not need to attend every single birthday party of every single classmate, kid on the soccer team and child that you are in some way associated with. Free yourself! Take the weekend off the party circuit.

3. You are not responsible for entertaining your children. Children are self-entertaining devices. If they aren't, you are doing it wrong. If they are "bored" make them clean house. That was my mom's favorite trick. We learned to quit saying we were bored.

4. Your child's school project is his or her responsibility. You may contribute by purchasing supplies. STOP THERE. If their project is not as good as their classmates', at least they have the pride of doing it for themselves. Teachers KNOW whose parents do all the work for them, believe me. They are not stupid.

What are you teaching your kid by doing it for them? That mommy/daddy will always bail them out? Yeah, keep doing that and see how much fun it will be to bail them out when they have a $50k rehab bill.

5. Kids don't believe what you say. They believe what you DO. They are so freaking smart that way.

6. What other people are doing isn't important. Stick to your beliefs, your morals, your ethics (assuming you have some). YOU are the adult. YOU are in charge. Your kids need to know that someone is running the ship, and they will ultimately be happier if it is you, not them.

Ok, 6 pieces of excellent advice are enough for one post. Remember, I'm not a parenting expert, but I play one in my head.

29 February 2008

Spring Whining

Normally I go to Baseball Spring Training in Arizona.

I like the game just fine, but it's not all about the baseball. You get to sit in the sun, eat sweet, salty and greasy snacks, and generally have about the most stress-free time you can imagine.

There's also an annual outing to The Barrio Cafe, a restaurant so good that it is worth a trip to Phoenix and the usual 2 hour wait.

This year I'm not going and I'm a little bitter.

I just can't bring myself to travel for pleasure when I have credit card debt (I'm boring but practical, you gotta admit) and I can't pay off my credit card debt in full because of some reasons I cannot discuss because they are about work and bonuses and let's just try not to get dooced here, ok?

But while we're on the subject of baseball, is anyone else wondering just why the hell Congress is investigating steroid use?

Dozens of elected officials and their minions are packing meeting rooms to grill Roger Clemens and to drool over his muscular manly forearms. Your tax dollars at work.

Does anyone really care, or is this just some kind of reverse congressional hero-worship, these doofus policy wonks finally getting back at the Cute Popular Jock Guys from high school?

Meanwhile, reports out of Iraq are that we are paying $45 a case for soda for our soldiers and mercenaries (yes, I said mercenaries, not "contractors"). Have the congressional hearings started about THAT yet?

Wake me when they do.

What I did with my allowance

I did it. I got a crackberry (a red one) AND unlimited data, texting AND a wireless card for my laptop. It is all on, all the time, baby. I feel like I have joined the 21st century.

27 February 2008

Down on the corner out in the street

Most people move to suburbia because it is so safe and organized and predictable there.

I moved away from suburbia because it was too nice for the likes of me. People sniffed at the renters down the street because their lawn wasn't all golf-course-like. Probably after paying $2400 a month for rent, they couldn't afford a lawn service. In all of the other yards, the shrubs were trimmed into cube shapes. Even mine.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. The beige was choking me. Among other things.

So I moved to the nuttiest place I could find. I have already talked about the Hells Angels clubhouse down the street, the big Mexican dances in random back yards, complete with lights, DJs and crowds.

Tonight was a new one on me. I was turning the corner to my house and was temporarily blinded by a truck with flashing yellow lights. Animal control.

Then I saw this:

Goatses! Not only goatses, but 2 of the BIGGEST goats I have ever seen. They must weigh about 300 lbs each. The size of ponies.

The animal control officer said he found them wandering around in the street, placidly. The lady on the corner said they belong to the guy behind her. I wonder if they were destined for the barbecue or what.

Barack Hussein Obama

Just a note to those Republicans who emphasize Obama's middle name, as if that means something:

Making fun of people's names went out in fourth grade. Adults don't do that kind of thing.

I remain,
Sue Poo Doo Doo "Suuuuu-eeeeee-yyyyy" "A Boy Named Sue" Hussein Davis

25 February 2008

The stink that keeps on giving

Do you read Jonniker? Goodness gracious why not? She does stream-of-consciousness like no one since Kerouac.

She just posted about stinky perfume. Cologne that YOU think is okay but that you later find your loved ones think smells like you have been forgetting to bathe.

Most of the cologne she refers to contains my least favorite scent (besides rotting goat cheese, as I found out Saturday morning when I was cleaning out some tupperwares from the week's work lunches), the evil patchouli.

Story time: Once upon a time, I was standing in my friend The Dutchess's kitchen. Her roommate, the Evil Mike, came in and gave me a hug. (Please note: normally, I do not comment on how people smell, no matter how bad it is. But this was super special).

Suebob: Gaaaaah!

Evil Mike: Whut?

Suebob: You smell...terrible. Awful. Oh my god, I got it ON me.

Evil Mike: Huh?

Suebob: You smell like...Patchouli!!

Evil Mike: Well some days I go on long bike rides and I don't have time to take a shower, so I just put on some patchouli oil to cover it up.

Suebob: Gaaah!

Evil Mike: You mean it doesn't work?


Am I right people? Where do you stand on the patchouli issue?? (R. - you are exempt from my contempt. I love you despite your patchouli obsession. Which is saying something).
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