Things That Make Me Go Hmmmm…..

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stupid

As I age the only thing that seems to be becoming abundantly clear is that everyday there are a new abundance of things that make me increasingly confused to where the only logical response I can muster is a giggle.  Since I’ve heard of scientific studies….  (there are only a new 1000 that come out a day – so pick the one you like. My favorite is moms with big butts produce more intelligent children – that got a collective Hell Yeah from moms everywhere even though I’ve seen no evidence of it’s validity in any of my teens)

Oops rambling again…  back to the scientific study that say our brains work like a filling system.  I have started a new file which I labeled “Things that make me go hmmm”  Now this new file is floating around up there somewhere in the -easy to access section – between the files of “70’s and 80’s commercial and TV jingles” and “useless celebrity knowledge I don’t wanna know and can’t forget” While the files of “My parasites names” (little cherubs most people call their children) and “Things I really need to do today” seem to be filed under the section – take your best guess cause we have no idea where it is right now.

So this new file seems to be filling up at a rapid pace and I better get a few on paper before my brain secretary (who seems to be passive/aggressive) accidentally moves it over to the middle aged section of “No idea why you came in to this room or where your car keys are” I have decided that file is in the darkest recesses of the basement covered in dust and impossible to access.

So as promised – here are a few of the things rambling around in my brain today that make me giggle and I hope you do too…….

  • Why does McDonald’s only give out “Light” Mayo?  If I was that worried about the fat content of the mayonnaise I probably wouldn’t be eating at McDonald’s in the first place. I would be cooking at home and eating a pan seared chicken breast cooked with no oil. If I’m ordering a big mac – not so much!!    Now I do know they have healthy options now and that’s great, but I’m ordering a plain ole cheeseburger not a salad so give me my regular ole mayo. If I wanted “Light” I would’ve asked for it….
  • Why can’t General Mills just make a bag of the rye chips in Chex Mix instead of making everyone dig through the bag like we’re digging for gold??? Surely they know that’s the whole reason we buy it!!!! Yes I know Gardetto’s does, but way to simple of an answer when I’m at home at 10 pm digging in the bag.
  • When I watch the news I start to believe I may be the only person left in America who really could care less who sleeps with who as long as it’s not my husband??? All I keep asking myself is when did this become news in the first place (ie see file named useless celebrity knowledge I want to forget and can’t) 
  • Why can there be millions of educated Americans standing around, but any time the media needs an interview they find the one person who is a complete dumb-ass? I’m beginning to have a sneaking suspicion this skill is taught in journalism school under “How to dumb down American 101”  (yes mom I know it’s a “bad word” so say an extra prayer, but sometimes they’re just needed- and look I used the correct “they’re”)
  • Why can’t presidential candidates run on platforms I can really get behind. Screw the “NO new Taxes”, “Border walls” or “Planned parenthood”  I want: “No more laundry- disposable clothing for all” or “Personal cooks for every household” Maybe I should run-  I can see women being  o.k. with more taxes for these priorities and hell you never know I just might win because If I am ever lost do not bother to put my face on a milk carton or even a wine bottle. You will have better luck with a box of Tide because I’m sure I’ll be buried under a mountain of dirty laundry somewhere!!
  • Why can my parasites fix a truck, operate a smart phone, go to school, and in general be fully functioning humans, but the buttons on the oven, dishwasher, or washing machine and dryer be completely beyond their grasp. They actually stand there and stare like it’s a machine from outer space.   I suspect there’s some serious deception going on that they learned from their grandfather…….. but I have no proof
  • Why is there no Homer Simpson “Doh” emoji for parents of teenagers? This isn’t just needed it’s a requirement. Have you seen some of the dumb shit they do……
  • Instead of the “like or comment” options on Social Media why can’t there be a “WE GET IT ALREADY” option.  If anyone was confused about your political or religious beliefs before the first 100 you posted yesterday- I doubt the second 100 today are gonna make it any clearer….
  • And my favorite- Why do people keep tagging me in things that imply I’m mean to my kids or a bitch?  Oops- after reading back over my blog  never mind- I get it- just don’t care 🙂

So there ya have it –  the first edition of “Things that make me go hmmmm”  I’m sure they’ll be another unless the secretary decides to let it get lost in the dark and dusty basement, along with the location of my car keys, middle aged brain. Here’s to hoping instead she lets it gets attached to the “My bologna has a first name, it’s O-S-C-A-R”   I had no idea in my youth I was entering into a long term relationship with bologna, but that sucker’s embedded til death do us part!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Institutionalized Chaos

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straight jacket 2

 

“”Marriage is a great institution- if you like being institutionalized” – that’s the statement I’ve always heard anyway………

The main question in every happy marriage at some point comes down to this… “Smother him in his sleep or put the earphones in and just play happy music until it passes?” STOP- before everyone gets their knickers in a wad-  I’m a woman so I used the pronoun “him”, but trust me I am well aware the feeling is mutual and he’s felt the same way about me just as many times in all these years of marriage.

Tonight I am choosing listening to the music (your release may be something besides music, but just go with me here)  I am dancing to the music not because it wouldn’t be simple to smother him in his sleep or that I couldn’t hide the body.  (I’m a Southern woman with access to a chipper shredder, at least 10 bottles of bleach, and miles of woodlands)  I choose the music tonight because even though I don’t really “like him” right this minute I am well aware I would quickly miss him if he were gone.

Some days as I look at his face I think to myself- really “You Again”?  (oh hush- you’ve all thought it at least once if your married – it’s not my fault you won’t grow a set and say it out loud) On these days there is a standard monologue that shortly flows through my conscience. It sounds something like this “RELAX- this too shall pass- you know he’s a good man, he usually makes you laugh, he’s been a great dad and you still actually love him after all these years” The first question I always have as these thoughts flow through is “where did SHE come from?”  Why does my conscience always have the sweet southern accent and sound EXACTLY like my mother??  That’s a whole different topic for a later date, but let’s just say it’s sooooo not fair……………..

I remember looking at this man sleeping next to me when we were newly married with all the fascination of a new born baby.  I remember feeling how lucky and happy and nothing could ever change that feeling.  Almost 20 years and three parasites (children for those sweeter parents) later – nope no more fascination at all – just a snoring asshole.  Luckily an asshole I would quickly miss!  (Insert annoying sweet southern accent monologue here)

As women, the entertainment industry feeds us princess movies and romantic movies designed to show us what relationships “should look like”, but have you ever noticed they all end after “they get together” and never show us the everyday monotony of waking up and going to bed with the same person for 20 or 50 years.  Why do you think that is????

I’ll tell you- The first reason is that would be a horribly boring movie.  Can you imagine watching a movie on the drudgery of everyday life?  The only thing that movie would be good for is replacing counting sheep.  The main reason we don’t see that type of movie is the reality of that kind of love isn’t pretty. That kind of love isn’t all butterflies and rainbows.  That kind of love takes commitment (mainly a commitment not to kill them), but a commitment just the same.

I’ve been really lucky and watched my parents hit the 50 years of marriage milestone this year.  I’ve watched them do the ebbs and flows of marriage with as much grace as anyone could ever expect.(50 years is a long ass time) It wasn’t always pretty. It wasn’t a perfect marriage (there’s no such thing), but it was as good of an example as anyone could ask.  I watched them love each other, dislike each other,and always come back to love.  They taught me a lot about true love- true love takes commitment, sacrifice, and a complete surrender of yourself on occasion (i.e. don’t smother them in their sleep) Some days you’ll wake up and may not want to see their face, but if it’s the right one give it a few days and it will probably be different.

As I sit here tonight after deciding that I couldn’t do away with him, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t really want too because I would miss him- I realized maybe that’s what real long term love is…..  It’s the commitment to wait the few days to see, it’s the commitment to try, it’s the commitment to the everyday chaos and monotony, and definitely the commitment to listen to the happy music and not smother them.

I guess that means if I’ve got to be institutionalized – I’ve chosen this institutionalized chaos…………………

If the Shoe Fits…….

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Baby-Shoes-Pink-Sequin

Well here I sit on my back deck with the computer in my lap on an absolutely beautiful spring day trying to determine which one of these crazy idea’s floating around in my brain I will share with the world today.  I took a hiatus for quite a while and realized after writing the other night I missed it more than I cared to admit.

I enjoy the release and the self examination that comes with writing.  Some people choose to look in the mirror and reflect. As I age, I still use this method on occasion, but there is only so much evaluation I can do in the mirror.  After you convince yourself those are “laugh” lines and show you’ve had a great life the reality of “I’m just getting damn old” creeps in.  I find it best to move away quickly before my brain, who is still convinced it’s 15 on a good day and 20 on a bad day, explodes. It really hates that reality and I have found it’s much more fun to let it have it’s way.

I can promise you the hubby and parasites (children for those nicer than me) really don’t miss their “favorite” wife and mom and her writing.  After I wrote the last blog and made the announcement “I believe I’ll pick up writing again” there was a huge collective sign that I am pretty sure even Prince in heaven heard.  Then their negotiations began.  Things like- “Can we not document every embarrassing moment in our lives” To which I replied to these poor,, pitiful, pleading members of my family in the sweetest smart ass voice I could muster between the giggles “Oh sure, no one would EVER want to hear the story of how I set off a complete pack of firecrackers in your room one morning when you wouldn’t get up because that’s just too mundane”  (Yes that really did happen and if you’re a parent who struggles with the teenager and getting up – I highly recommend the method especially if you make them clean up the shrapnel)

Since at least three of these people are stuck with me for life,whether they like it or not, I get a little more leeway than with most. This is the only advantage you get when you actually build them inside your body, spit them out of your loins and then feed them from your chest for months and then cook for them and have to hand out $20’s for years to come. (ie. parasites)  Since it’s the only advantage I get I figured I should exploit it to the fullest.  The hubby- lets just say that’s a whole different exchange program 🙂

So back to here I sit with all these crazy idea’s and as I evaluate each one and flesh em out in my brain I remember why I took the hiatus in the first place.  Most of the things that inspire me to write my brand of comedy are either controversial or would be easy recognizable to others as to who I was “picking” on.

In this everything offends me world comedy has become really hard.  I’m a person that thinks that you can find a little funny in almost everything.  It’s usually all in your perspective. I choose to see the funny (remember- those are laugh lines not wrinkles- it’s my make believe world and I like it here) I do my best to surround myself with others who do the same and thank my lucky stars there are still a few, but most take themselves and their beliefs waaaay to seriously.

I don’t ever really want to hurt anyone and I definitely never mean to offend and I refuse to argue with those who do not get comedy so I’ve evaluated and I’ve decided there is only one course of action for this old Southern woman to take.  I’m gonna have two different blogs.  I’m going to keep this one for the mostly non controversial and the “in general” harmless stuff and create another anonymous blog for the I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.

I’m excited about this new venture!!  Somewhere I can just write, evaluate myself and the world, say what I please without the polite Southern restrictions I place on myself should be fun and hey it’s a safer release than say- running away or drugs.  Those are typically frowned upon.

So for those of you who get easily offended or take everything way to seriously- if the next blog that goes viral seems to be about you and the baby shoe fits- you never know- it just might be!!  🙂

 

 

 

 

The Day The Music and My Youth Died

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purple rain

I remember the night vividly in August of 1977 when Elvis Presley passed away!!

I was a girl of the mere age of 9.  We were at a place known as an old Southern Campground.  For those of you not familiar, this is a place where a bunch of crazy southern people live in what is basically a shack with wood shaving floors for 10 days in the sweltering hot part of summer with no air conditioning, but- full kitchens, bedrooms and showers and church 3 times a day (yes I did say 3 times a day-it’s the bible buckle)   If you have never been to one of these events you might believe that only one crazy family would venture to do this insanity every year and you might be right in the beginning- because it does have a family name, but to your surprise after 150 years of the event there are now over 100 different families who live in crazy proximity to each other in shacks in the misery of the southern summer heat with no air conditioning.  I would continue, but this insanity really deserves it’s on time at a later date…………..

Back to the day Elvis died….  I had just turned the tender age of 9.   I was at the crazy campground surrounded by many different people of all ages as we returned from evening service (Church for those not familiar with southern slang) and the radios announced Elvis Presley’s passing.  Many of the women in their 40’s and 50’s began to cry. I remember becoming completely confused.  These were women I had known for all my young life.  I had seen them become the complete Rock of Gibraltars when family members passed and handle everything like a prize fighter (for those of you that don’t know many southern women – we handle what needs to be done and typically cry in private-  Scarlett O’Hara wasn’t far off)

These strong women, who I had always seen as rocks, suddenly sat on the porches of their shacks together crying.  These  women who  I had witness handle spouses and parents deaths, look at single motherhood in the 70’s without  a second thought and conquer became weeping children because a celebrity whom they didn’t even know had passed away.

This was very confusing to a 9 year.  I knew Elvis, my dad had a friend who loved Elvis- he even had the sideburns and looked like him and only played his music when we were at their house.  I was aware he sang music, which to me, was tame and kinda dated.  I knew he made movies- I had even seen a few and thought they were cheesy.  Nothing I knew of Elvis helped me comprehend these women and their grief.  I remember being a child baffled.

Well today was MY turn and I am no longer baffled!!  Prince passed away today!  Prince was the music of my formative youth.  Prince was the music that had racy lyrics and themes we hid from our parents. He and Madonna (she’s still here) were our generations rebellion. I can’t be the only person that still remembers singing “Party Like It’s 1999” and thinking how far away that was and now it’s 17 years in the rear view…..  He might of been the first to say masturbate on an album, but I doubt it- just the first one we heard.  (Thank goodness for Darling Nikki) The Purple Rain album was the one we hid and took to camps and played after the chaperons went to bed. Prince was the soundtrack of my generation.  When my brain still wants to be 15 regardless of my body and it’s aches the Prince and Madonna soundtracks still play.

What I realized today was those women, who were my age now, I saw crying in the 70’s were children of the 50’s when Elvis was racy.  He was the music they hid from their parents when they were teenagers. He was the music they danced too when no one was watching and sang loudly when no one was listening and everything was ahead of you and anything was possible.  Elvis was a person they did not know.  They were not crying for the death of Elvis the man.  They were grieving for the realization of their youth being gone. They grieved for the innocence and immaturity of youth.  They grieved for the brutal realization of adulthood which had always been there, but as long as that ICON was there could somehow be recaptured.  The death somehow made it permanent.

Getting old has it’s advantages (age and treachery over youth and enthusiasm an all), but damn some days the knees hurt!

Every generation has a “Day the Music Died” which actually should be translated to “The Day My Youth Died” because that is how we actually react and grieve.  One generation had the day Buddy Holly and others passed in a plane crash, the next generation had Elvis passing and based on my 40 and 50 year old friends reactions today ours is Prince’s death.

To all of my friends floating with me in the same boat of middle age grieving our youth and all of those possibilities that we feel passed with Prince today just remember-  “We are gathered here today to get through this thing called Life” so the next time you see a Purple Rain just dance and embarrass the kids-  it’s all we got so might as well enjoy after you had your cry!!!

Oh- and don’t forget to keep on partying like it’s 1999- it’ll confuse the young folk until they’re at least 45 when it’ll be there turn too!!!! 🙂

 

 

 

 

To Depends or Not to Depends- THAT IS THE QUESTION!!

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it-depends

The one thing in life I am more and more convinced of is that sometimes I really need a warning label. The problem is – I never can think of just one.  This warning label would need to be more like a scrolling LED sign that hangs around my neck that can be changed on a daily basis, but I’m sure if you asked my hubby or parasites (children for those nicer than me)  they would probably say it would need an auto change by the second.  I’m sure if you asked them it would read regularly -“she’s just crazy- so deal with at own risk”

The reason I’ve decided to warn you about my warning labels (today) is that I’m gonna actually talk (out loud) about that ever so disturbing and even more aggravating thing called “MIDDLE AGE”.  Now for most these words have a simple enough definition.  It simply refers to the middle part of your life. Generations ago (I’m going with the Dark Ages cause it makes me feel better about getting old), when the average life expectancy was about 45 or 50, middle age landed squarely in your 20’s. However in today’s world where the average life expectancy is starting to push the 80’s the definition of middle aged has changed significantly. Now middle aged is considered your 40’s and 50’s.

Now if you are a woman under the age of 35 – I would highly suggest you stop reading this very second!! You are having fun and living in the prime of your life. There is absolutely no reason for you to know that these horrid things I’m going to talk about are going to happen to you regardless of all of your efforts to the contrary. Just keep having fun and living in your dream world – if for no other reason that us middle aged folks can look at you lovingly and smile.  We smile not because of the memories or the longing, but just because we know what’s coming for you and we giggle at your oblivion.

What brought this to the forefront for me tonight was I got the rare chance to speak with one of my girlfriends from college. As we age this gets harder and harder to accomplish- not because we don’t want too- but life just gets in the way.  A full time job, 3 parasites with a million things “that have to be done” , a hubby “with needs” , a million loads of laundry and dishes, and a household to run just take entirely too much of my time! Yes I know you’re asking how I got time to write this- well let’s just say the household part is a mess!! Someone once wrote that boring women have immaculate houses…………. Well let’s just say I’m far from boring!!

I digress….  back to my conversation with my girlfriend.

We talked about our parasites. She has a few older than mine so I listened intently so maybe I will know what’s coming. You know what I learned?  I need a MUCH bigger savings account!!!  We talked about our mutual friends. Guess what I learned? Absolutely nothing different- people don’t change – they just get more resolute in their ways.  We talked about our families. I learned we still care about each other and our worlds and have great memories of each others extended families.

We were laughing and talking and talking and laughing and then somehow “getting older” became part of the conversation. I’m sure it came up talking about the parasites or maybe just in the normal conversation, but it came up just the same.

That’s when the laughing started to sound more in the hysterical dimension.

How I know it got louder was two of the parasites walked in (because they are nosy) and whispered “Who are you talking to” and “How do you like my haircut?” and “I need to be a school early” and “”Can you help me with my homework? etc etc Haven’t you ever heard the rule “If mom is actually having fun we must ruin it or bother her immediately”?  Children seem to come out of the womb with this Super Power!!

Oops- I digress again

Why we were laughing so hard is the “very” normal conversation that middle aged women have been having for generations (that we just didn’t know was coming), but is here just same. It’s the dirty little secret (ok- not so secret) of middle aged women everywhere……………………

Bladder control is a thing only for the youth!!

We laughed because we couldn’t cough, sneeze, run, jump or in any way move too fast anymore without having an accident. We laughed that when we went grocery shopping now we walked by the Depends aisle and actually considered buying them, but still clung to the idea that a pad should work just fine. (Hey don’t judge some women actually need the extra baggage in the rear department- I might of already bought them, but sadly I’m not one of those women) We laughed about the pee-pee dance (for those of you that aren’t aware -it’s that dance we all do that try’s to convince ourselves we can actually make it the 10 feet to the bathroom, but still fail) We laughed that we spent about half of our time either in the bathroom or looking for the bathroom (we used to look for our kids, but now we actively just look for bathrooms)  Basically we just laughed about the joys – or not so joys- of creaking knees, hurting joints, and the pee pee dance.

As I was laughing so hard tears were running down my face and pee was running down my leg I learned the most valuable lesson of all……………. “Getting Older Sucks”, BUT going through it with good friends makes all the difference.  It decides whether it’s miserable or a joke. It decides whether it stops your progress or just inhibits it a tad. It decides if you fight the inevitable or accept it with giggles. All I know now is I won’t grimace next week when I pass the Depends aisle- I think I’ll smile and giggle cause I have friends I can “DEPENDS” on!!

Breaking News at 11!!!!

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In today’s world truly being from the South has lost many of it’s meanings.  Today most people that live in the South are from other parts of the country. I understand the phenomena because if I had to live buried in snow 9 months of the year I would pack my bags and run faster than a hungry cheetah toward warm weather too.  Because of this plethora of what we in southern polite society call “Damn Yankee’s” (this is different than a normal yankee because these never leave) finding a person who can make a single syllable word sound as if it has more than 3 is almost as hard as finding that illusive needle in a haystack. We are still around it’s just we temper it more in public.  As one of my close friends says to me regularly “uh oh your southern is showing- did you spend time with your family today” to which I respond “Yeeeaaah maaaaybe a lettle too much”

Because these little southern society nuances are disappearing it always make me giggle and laugh when something just “hits me upside the head” (yes another southern term) and says “By Golly you do still live in the South”.  One of these little baseball bats came tonight.  As I sat and watched, oh just another mind numbing stupid entertainment TV show”, a ticker flashed across the bottom of my screen.  As my hubby and I read this ticker we both started to laugh. It said and I’m quoting “Breaking News at 11- Thief runs off with 10 foot rooster”.

Now for anyone who knows me understands that something this absolutely bizarre takes my brain by storm.  This is a situation my gray matter has never considered nor thought of so the implications and questions start before I can even help myself.  The things that start neuron explosions in my brain can be quite odd and even a bit scary.  As I sit with tears of laughter rolling down my face I begin to rapid fire them at the hubby. (He’s just so thrilled because this poor man lives with this insanity everyday)  I always start out innocent enough, but as I really get going my brain gets and evil streak that would make Betty White blush.

So this poor man who loves me gets to sit and hear questions such as:

Exactly how strong is this thief to run with a 10 foot rooster?  Is he Hercules because I’m pretty sure a 10 foot rooster is heavy

How do we know it was a thief and the yard bird didn’t wander out of his yard and he was just collecting it? This is the South and there are still people with yard birds

What does one do with a 10 foot rooster?  My family has eaten a whole lot of gospel bird (fried chicken for those of you not from here) in our lives and I’m not sure we’ve ever eaten that much

This is about when it all starts to go down hill……..

You know honey it could of only been better if they had of used the word “cock” instead. (Yes – cock is a perfectly acceptable word for rooster- get your mind out of the gutter with mine)

Why would you want a 10 foot cock in your front yard? Unless he does yard work then maybe

How exactly does a man run with a 10 foot cock? Maybe there’s “shrinkage”

Why exactly do you want a 10 foot cock?  I might have an answer for that

Where does one find a 10 foot cock? This is the age old question of women every where

Where do you hide a 10 foot cock? hmm- that kinda sounds uncomfortable

Can you shop for 10 foot cocks in your neighborhood pawn shop?  Now that might get interesting

Why would a man want to steal a 10 foot cock? Maybe he is a porn agent

The questions go on and on…….. until I’m a giddy fool and the husband is looking at me with that ever loving look of “for the love of god woman please shut up”

Well the news finally came on and the reality of a big ole metal rooster wasn’t near as fun as my imagination, but is reality ever as much fun or as bad as your imagination?? I can speak from experience, in my twisted mind, it isn’t so I’m going back in for more.

I’m dreaming it’s College football bowl season and the Oregon St Beavers are playing the South Carolina Gamecocks for the National Championship!  So until next time when we discuss the joys of that commentary…………………………….. 🙂

Relax Chicken Little- The Sky Is Just Fine!!

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Oops- I watched the news again!!!  Now I know better and am well aware that watching our new sensationalist, ratings driven, and politically slanted (pick a program based on which side you already believe) news media makes my head spin around and look like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.  I know this to be a fact, but sometimes I decide to give them the benefit of the doubt and try it again.  It’s never a good idea, but my optimistic soul over rules my brain and the result is….. oh a reaction something similar to an atomic bomb of words such as those my southern mama would disown me for actually writing publicly so you will just have to guess.

Now the latest that has seemed to of “Gotten My Goat” (yes gotten my goat is a southern term and it’s appropriate-and no I don’t know the origin so go look it up) is a news special on the college spring break in Panama City.  Now this news channel (let’s just call it the channel for the fundamentalist right which for our purposes we’ll just call the Al Jazeera of America) If you are Chicken Little and believe the sky is falling then “By George” this is the channel for you!!

Now anyone my age that has ever gone on a college spring break or a graduation trip with friends without parents knows exactly what happens on those trips and if you have forgotten then shame on you!!!  If you are sitting in your home 30 years later saying things like “that wasn’t happening then” or “we didn’t do THAT” or the ever famous LAST WORDS “my child will not” then you have either completely forgotten reality or have found that elusive little ostrich hole to put your head in that keeps eluding me. (trust me I have teenage parasites and I really want that hole) 🙂

The reality is-there is drinking.  Yes a lot of drinking.  That is what college age kids do on spring break.  That’s why they go.  Yes- to the mama that thinks little Johnny is perfect- the percentage chance of your perfect son drinking a beer during spring break is probably -oh close to 98%.  The chance of him actually hugging a porcelain throne during that week is probably over 50%.  Oh and mama of perfect Katie- your chances are about the same, but the toilet hugging probably goes up.

If you will all remember back through the fog of adulthood you will remember a few things.  This right of passage consists of waaaaay to many of your friends all crammed into one hotel room (you’re in college and it’s all you can afford). There at least two others sleeping on the floor because there isn’t enough beds or it happens to be a friend from another room who that was just as far as they could make it at that particular moment.  The refrigerator is completely full (of mixer and beer) and there is a one loaf of bread and PBJ on the counter.  The table has been converted into a compilation of drinking games, and there are empty beer cans -oh in every nook and cranny available.  It takes 3 hours and an entire box of trash bags just to clean the room before you leave.

I’m not saying I agree with the right of passage, but I still understand IT IS a right of passage.  I’m not saying I want my parasites (kids for those new to me)  to participate in the right of passage, but I still understand that after 18 they probably will!!  I just hope someone who truly cares about her is nice and holds her hair back and protects her as she sleeps on the bathroom floor.  That friend who loves you enough to hold your hair back is a friend for life and I’ve been lucky (or dumb) enough to have a few.

So back to why this program “Got My Goat” It was designed to do nothing, but scare the absolute shit out of every parent in America of any child age 10 to 25.  They put a blonde woman (who may be all of 30) out in an entrance to the beach in Panama City right in the middle of Spring Break.  Now she just stands there and does interviews as the kids pass.  I am sure they stood there for an entire day and we got about a whole 5 minutes.   We only saw the drunkest and most disrespectful. (oh- they were there then too) We only heard the drug stories (oh- they were there then too and just like us our little blessings will have to determine there own path) We only heard about the nudity (fyi- there have been girls who were willing to flash their melons longer than we’ve all been alive and will still be here long after we are dead and buried and rolling over in our graves)

Do you think they walked down the beach and showed us the kids having a few beers and playing Frisbee?  Of course not!! Do you think they showed us the interviews of respectful kids who said we are just here having fun?  Of course not!!  They showed us only the scariest, most sensational, and ratings driven and then acted like it was the end of the world as we know it!!  Suddenly all the youth in America have gone completely off the rails and OH MY- chicken little the sky is falling!!

Well guess what parents – they are doing exactly the same thing college students have been doing for generations!!  There have been disrespectful kids, kids that do drugs, girls who flash, and the standard ole drunken debauchery for as long as there have been college age kids and guess what the sky hasn’t fallen yet and probably won’t this time either.  Every person still has to pick their own way. I know you want to think it’s obviously worse, but it’s not! I know you want to believe it’s much scarier now, but it’s not!  I know you want to think my child will not, but they will!

Wanna know the funny part to me- 30 years ago our parents were saying the same thing. Wanna know the funniest part to me- 30 years from now those exact same kids who we saw in the news cast will be saying the exact same thing about theirs!

So maybe the only true reality is that spring break is the college age right of passage and the middle aged believing the world is going to hell in a hand basket is the middle age right of passage.  Maybe we should put it right up there with loss of testosterone and menopause.

I’ve decided I’m not going to fall for their sensationalism.  I’m gonna go for a stroll through memory lane.  As I remember the crowded hotel rooms, and beer stained carpets I’m gonna smile.  One because of all the precious memories and two because I survived. I survived with wonderful memories and lots of life lessons. Not only did I survive – my parents survived (and trust me there was many a day they thought they wouldn’t) I’m gonna smirk at my parasites who think I’m completely clueless and laugh because they have NO idea. I’m gonna “secretly” laugh when I bust them and smirk when I intentionally don’t because I’ve gotta let them think they’re smart sometimes.

The reality is that the sky isn’t falling it’s just time marching on and it happens to be their turn to make those memories.  What I’ve learned is those memories will help them raise their own someday and keep a smirk on their face and trust me since they’ll be paying for their own raising they’ll need it!!!