Tuesday, February 3, 2009

just another fantastically effed up tuesday tv nite

Dear Mom -- thank you for never subjecting me to this:

Also, thank you for not having 18 children. I suspect your womb thanks you, too. 

Tuesday night tv on "The Learning Channel" is a lesson on what not to do when you're a parent. These are pretty basic lessons:

1. Do not spray tan your 5 year old. 

2. Spending upwards of $10k a year on pageant related expenses so your kid can win a cheap-ass tiara and maybe a couple hundred bucks is not a solid financial strategy. 

3. If a 12 pack of generic brand soda will not serve your entire brood . . . you have a problem. 

And yet, I need to send some love to the Duggar family and all the whack-job pageant moms of the deep south. They are just 2 examples of the many wonderful pockets of insane sub-culture that thrive here in the Land of the Free. I'm sure in some burkah-filled nation, there is a legion of little girls who wish they could be made up to look like an effing 20 year old prostitute . . . or, at the very least, show a little ankle. And in those population-controlling societies of Asia, I bet people would love to pop out as many babies as their uterus can hold. So kudos, Duggars and tiara-moms! Keep doin' your thang! 

Giving props to the deranged -- does that count as love? 

I would like to note that 3 days into February, I find myself chatting more with strangers. Not necessarily in an overtly "kind" way, but it's a start. Today I had a very nice discussion with a cab driver about how much this weather effing blows, and how I was totally afraid of the dentist. 

Soon after, I told the dental hygienist my entire life story while she attempted to scrape 3 years worth of crap from my teeth. My friendliness paid off, however -- she and the dentist were very kind when informing me that my gums are receding and may require some sort of "graft". 

Later, in the checkout line at Shaw's, the lady behind me asked my opinion of the salad dressing I was buying. 

"So you like that dressing, huh?" she said. For a moment, I thought she was gonna tell me that it was laced with rat urine or something. But when I replied, "Uh . .  .yeh . . . ?" she said, "I've been wanting to try it." Then we had a nice little exchange about the superior flavors of Newman's Spritzer salad dressings. It was almost like living in California . . . or some other place where people don't hate each other.

Then I walked back outside into the driving sleet. Ah, yes. New England. 

But yeh -- Chatty McChatterson, that's me! I don't know if this is a coincidence, or if I'm giving off slightly less hostile vibes . . . but I'll take it!  

Before I go, I would like to direct your attention to the recently revived Nutrigourmet blog (see right). What was once my chronicle of scary Nutrisystem meals is now my chronicle of equally scary experiments in the kitchen! Please to enjoy. 


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