Holy hell!! I haven’t posted since December????? Is that even possible???!
The bad news? This post is brought to you by: Hey look, a shiny object! Expect sharp turns.
Look, there’s been a lot going on. Like a lot! I’d share, but yeah, I’m not going to share. Some of it is boring. Much of it is sooooooo emo. I can’t even begin to explain how emo. I should write some godawful poetry or music, or just emote the hell out of some karaoke. And some of it is just uncategorizable. Hey, red underline? Shut. It. I have no use for you. Where have you even been? Emo has been around since I was actually young. Emo isn’t new, and, you know, neither is The Queen is Dead. *sigh* Fuck, I’m old, and still an enormous fan. You coming close, Morrissey? I’d gamble and buy a ticket to a show I know you have no intention of appearing at, you adorable, complicated freak.
I dropped off one of my two familial comedy partners at sleep-away camp yesterday. [Ed. Note: My other familial comedy partner is my brother, Greg.] In doing so, I realized, yikes, I’m all alone in this house with two people who don’t get me. They are really great people. But they just are obnoxiously normal. Or hmmmm. Normal isn’t the appropriate word, right? That should make me feel very bad because it leaves me with the word abnormal to describe myself and my second human project. That’s not fair. What if she and I are normal and those two are the abbies? Yes, let’s go with that. So, as we drove her to Stinky Jesus Camp (more on that later*), she and I were doing our thing in the back of the car, and I realized the two in the front seats were curiously silent. You know why? Because we were so entertaining, and they were engrossed in what we were saying. I am certain it’s true. Shhhhh. Don’t try to dissuade me.
OK, it’s entirely possible that they were silent in front because JT was fulfilling more of his required 45 hours of behind-the-wheel as he “cruises” his way to his driver’s license. And let me tell you, I’m not real chill when it comes to this. Here’s the thing. I’m still not comfortable with 70% of the people who I share the road with. They are on the phone. They are consuming foodstuffs (including SOUP – no, I will NOT let that go!). They are really, really interested in what’s occurring inside their cars: bug entries, exits, antics, photo-taking; child emissions, discussions, altercations, photo-taking; business meetings, brainstormings; pet interactions, feedings, photo-taking; podcast listening, car concerts, selfie-taking and OH MY GOD THE PHONE CALLS!! Bluetooth, people! I know not every car supports this, but I’ve seen some models that do support bluetooth spirit by with their drivers holding their phones and looking at their phones while speaking. What even the hell is up with that insanity?? Your phone doesn’t need you to look at it in order to work, people! These people are so engaged in these phone calls and it’s taking all of their focus. And another thing. Please can someone explain to me why people are so unbelievably confused by the two left turn lanes??!?! During our JT training, we had some supreme JACKASS move from the left turning lane into the right left turning lane without having a fucking clue that she needed to turn in her driver’s license immediately and submit to a public shaming to be held at her inconvenience. I just don’t understand how some people get into their cars and appear to feel that driving is a thing that they can approach as a just-do-your-best-or-you-know-don’t type of endeavor. Nuh uh, fool. Follow the rules. Then you’ll be fine. There are two left turn lanes. You have selected one of them. Follow the lane you have selected throughout the entirety of the turn. If you do so? You will not cause the car in the other lane to BRAKE SUDDENLY TO AVOID COLLIDING WITH YOUR IGNORANT ASS!!!]
Anna’s and my conversation went in many directions. I still believe fervently that we need to host a podcast (genre to be determined since it doesn’t exist based on my research). We landed in a most interesting place. She maintains, and I think I agree, that people shouldn’t date so far outside of their age group. She was intensely skeeved out by some One Directions dude (HUH???? Not a reference I could hang with her on…) whose wife was 10 years older? younger? than he. We both think this can lead to problems regardless of the gender make-up of the couple because it’s important to have points of reference to talk about to strengthen the bond between the two partners. Then, she got weird and said she couldn’t see a relationship between people who were 4 years apart and I called her crazy and the conversation became standard for us. Meaning it became absurd.
Anna: I think 4 years is a little weird.
Me: I think you’re being ridiculous. I mean, sure, right now? Yes. You’re 12. That’s not going to work. In either direction. And 10 years? Oh HELL NO!
Anna: I know! I’d be dating a 22yo!!
Me: Or…consider this…a 2yo. BOOM! “Hey, baby, where’d you get that sweet t…..uh onesie? Is that the latest band? Or…um…no…it’s just a baby Rorschach test. Yeah, baby, that’s cool. That’s so on point. Let’s make a connection. I’d like to play with that new Wonder Woman toy with you. That oatmeal you’re currently being fed looks so deeeeelicious. Yummmmmmm. Oh no. What’s that I smell? Is it a present? In your diaper?”
Anna: Can I fix that for you? Also, those are some sweet kicks you’re sporting. Do they light up?
Me: That Pull-Up is really highlighting your six-pack.
We were smart enough to stop everything here. As far as you know. Yes, I understand. You’re maybe uneasy. Possibly even appalled if you’re considering that I’m not sharing the worst of that exchange (you’d be right). You should understand that my kid plays in the deep end when it comes to this and other humor of the darker variety, but she is your favorite future babysitter IRL. I promise.
*Stinky Jesus Camp=OK, OK. I know. You’re appalled. Again. But here’s the thing. Anna is away at a Methodist camp this week. Why have I applied the stinky adjective, you may wonder? Thanks for asking! That’s because she returned from this camp last year smelling ….. I don’t know how to explain it… Moldy? Mildewy? It was bizarre, and the smell was just rampant. And aggressive. I moped around the house for weeks after we retrieved her because it took so long to wash the smell out of her clothes.Yes, I have a sensitive nose. Shut up! I went to sleep-away camp and I never smelled like that. Anyway, we dropped her off yesterday, and I kept thinking back to my own experiences at sleep-away camp and promised myself over and over that I would NOT stow away under her cot à la Lorelai [Ed. Note: Gilmore Girls]. I love sleep-away camp (even with a stink that assertive!), and I warned her that she might find me at the mess hall the next morning scarfing down breakfast with some of the other campers and regaling them with some exaggerated for effect tale. See what I did there? She tried hard not to roll her eyes at me (like you just did) because she knew that I’d see that as an issued challenge. #smartgirl