Dirty Little Secret

You know what is supremely wonderful about the circus? The other people are just as fantastic as the acts. Especially when you go to the circus in Newark, NJ.

I mean, it was Ringling Brothers, so of course the circus itself was fabulous. Except for the tigers and the elephants. I just feel like they’re looking at us, trying to say, “I am a majestic beast, dammit! Of course I can roll over, motherfucker.” For some reason I don’t get the same impression from the llamas and miniature ponies. Anyway, there was much jumping and flipping by amazing athletes, 6 motorcyclists in the globe cage (I remember when there were only 2 – and that was super cool) and clowns that didn’t freak me out too much.

But I can’t say the same about the people watching the circus. They freaked me out A LOT. For example, after standing in line to enter the arena for a good 10 minutes, where they repeatedly stated “Have your tickets out!” over the loudspeaker, some people still could not grasp this. As soon as they got to the front of the line, they opened their bags and SEARCHED for their tickets. I don’t know if they were all extremely stupid or extremely thoughtless, but the result was the same – more standing in line for the rest of us.

Speaking of stupidity, shouldn’t seat 1 be at the start of a section? Like let’s say you’re sitting in section 3 and you are in seat 1 in row whatever, wouldn’t you expect seat 1 to come first? Like if you walked from section 2, wouldn’t you expect section 3’s seating to start with 1? It doesn’t. Unless you go backwards from section 4. And boy, did the ghetto fabulous usher who grabbed my tickets tell me how dumb I was for assuming seat 1 in section 3 would be closer to section 2. Not that I actually wanted her help, because I can read numbers. And not that she really helped, she just yelled that I should have come in the other way. Considering that there were about 20 people in the entire section at that point, I think her bitchiness was unjustified. Which is why I snapped, “I know EXACTLY where I’m going” and gave her a totally snooty look.

I also gave a snooty look to the guy 3 rows in front of us with his electronic cigarette. Not that I have a problem with cigarettes that don’t harm others, but who really can’t make it through the circus without a cigarette? Do you think he also brings it into the shower? He also sported hair gel and tight black jeans – stuff that was cool when we were both young. That might have prejudiced me against him. The clincher was when he rolled he sleeve up and had his wife apply cream to his new tattoo. I have nothing against tattoos per se; I have two of my own. And it’s because I have tattoos of my own that I can say no one needs to apply cream that often. What a douche.

And speaking of douches, a special Jerseygirl shout out goes to the asshole who thought it was funny when his kid smacked the lady in front of him with his sword. I was embarrassed when my kid smacked the ladies in front of him with his sword, thank you very much.

And on a sadder note, both of my children want to be clowns. They were entranced the whole time, but clearly I’ve screwed them up so much already that they want to be clowns.

When I was a teenager,  just about every time I went to the mall, boys came up and talked to me. They were always different than the preppy boys I was used to and each time I was a approached a shiver of fear and of excitement would run through me.

Without fail, the boys would then proceed to ask me about my “friend with the red hair”. I would stammer, “She has a boyfriend,” as I looked down at my penny loafers. The excitement would turn to pure fear as the boy would look at me menacingly, trying to decide if I was lying.

Once a group of them actually chased us through the mall. After which, our interest in visiting that particular mall sharply waned.

I am reminded of this because now there is another male of the species trying to intimidate me, even though he has no interest in me. But this time I am not 15.

Recently I received a Facebook message intimating that my husband was cheating on me. My first inclination was to laugh, because not only would Hot Guy never do that, he doesn’t have the time. Or the energy. Or a working  cell phone.

Then I remembered that Hot Guy had told me about a high school friend of his whose high school boyfriend had started stalking her through Facebook. Even though she’s married to someone else and they haven’t seen each other in 15 years, the ex has become obsessed with her again. To the point where he’s been accusing all of her male Facebook friends from high school of sleeping with her.

Which is where Hot Guy comes into it. Apparently the ex thinks Hot Guy and high school friend are having an affair (did I mention that she lives 1200 miles away?) and since trying to intimidate her and Hot Guy wasn’t working, he decided to message me and make the accusation.

What’s really scary is that after I blocked him he set up a new account and messaged me again. He’s freakishly determined to contact me so that he can mess with Hot Guy and thus prove to high school friend how serious he is.

She has threatened legal action and is documenting everything, of course. But that’s all so far. I am scared for her, to be perfectly honest. Chasing down the wives of high school friends seems extreme to me.

I replied to the second message with a request to please leave me alone and the threat of legal ramifications if he didn’t. But I don’t know if that will just piss him off or what. I don’t know what he knows about where we live or even if he knows about this blog.

I don’t think he would really care, though. It’s high school friend he’s after. Right? I don’t know a lot about stalkers.

You know, I really didn’t want to learn to appreciate being just “the friend” this way.

Dear Terrorists,

I don’t think about you a lot. I am fortunate in that I don’t currently have any family members or close friends serving in the military or traveling in the middle east. And I am also fortunate in that I live in the United States, where the media would much rather listen to Tiger Woods’ pathetic excuse for an apology than to pay attention to anything you do.

I know you see us as the big Godless bully, one that keeps getting back up again even though you landed an excellent punch and made the rest of the class hate us. In your scenario, you will kill all of the infidels and have a perfect Muslim world (never mind that you can’t even agree on which kind of Muslim is perfect) where women are chattel, imams rule and no one eats hot dogs.

In my scenario, all the terrorists, rapists, pedophiles, racists, homophobes and murderers die of a mysterious illness and we live in a perfect liberal world where women are truly equal, children are ALL loved and no one eats hot dogs (see, we have something in common – give tolerance a chance!).

Here’s what would really happen in both of our scenarios: A bad seed would be born and start advocating equality or redhead hate and all of the people who weren’t quite as well off and who weren’t quite as educated would start listening to the bad seed and we’d be right back where we started.

Did you ever see the movie Heathers? It’s one of my favorites. In it,  a young couple murders the popular bullies of their school. . .only to have someone else step into the bully shoes almost immediately. Sort of like a modern day version of the Hydra.

Now in the movie and in the myth, the heroine/hero defeats the evil, resurrecting bully. Which is great, because who likes a story where nothing changes? No one.

However, these stories are also FICTION.

You are not going to defeat the bully. We’re not the biggest country (though I’m sure many of our high school graduates think so). We’re certainly not the smartest (just watch The Hills). We’re not the kindest (just ask our veterans). But we are the most popular. Take a poll and see how many of you have watched an American movie, heard an American song, eaten an American (or an American version) food, read an American book or heard about American Idol.

Even those kids who wear black and spend all of their time making fun of us (Russia, I’m talking to you) secretly want to be us. Yes, you can make us look stupid. Yes, you can hurt us. Yes, you can make people nervous about being our best friend. But given a choice between coming to the party where they have celebrity telethons for tragedies and sex is meant to be fun and coming to the party where they ignore other people’s problems and sex is shameful, which do you think people are going to pick?

Do you ever imagine what your lives would be like if your grandfathers had managed to move to the US? If your parents had opened small businesses in Detroit? If you and your sisters had 12 years of public education (which is better than you have gotten, even if it did produce Sarah Palin)? If your first crush was the Christian or Jewish kid from across the street?

Then you would have seen Heathers too. And you would have given up on this shit already.

Regards,

Jerseygirl

Last night I watched the commercial for “Teach Your Baby To Read!”, a product that teaches babies and toddlers to memorize the shapes on flashcards read. The urge I had to smack all those parents upside the head, well, it reminded me of my urges when I watch the kiddie pageant spectacle, Toddlers and Tiaras.

It’s the same damn thing.

Poise, the ability to walk in high heels, reading. . .those are all great skills to have. Reading’s obviously more important, but still. In our looks-obsessed society, the ability to wear lip gloss without it going all over your teeth can’t be denied. But why the rush?

Four year olds don’t need to look polished to do well at preschool.

And babies don’t need to be able to read. And, in fact, they aren’t actually reading. Sure, I saw them say the words on the cards, or gesture to indicate that they knew what the word was. But that’s not actually reading. They didn’t decode (aka “sound out”) the word and they sure as hell didn’t comprehend its meaning from the surrounding text.

I’ve taught lots of kids to read and I guarantee that none of them would have read for real any more quickly had they memorized the words for body parts as babies. If their parents had talked to them more, read them more stories and/or not let them spend all night watching horror movies, that might have helped. But this stupid program? Not so much.

A colleague once referred to me as “The Reading Bitch”, that’s how into teaching reading I was. I might have been a little militant. I might have distributed timelines and scopes and sequences and lesson plans to my elementary school teacher colleagues a little obsessively.

And yet my baby has no idea what letters even are. But I have gotten him to sit still long enough to finish listening to “Touch and Feel Farm”. I’m kinda proud of that. Because it’s age-appropriate.

I suppose in a world where first graders have cell phones and grandmothers attend Botox parties, age-appropriate isn’t a very popular concept. Sure, everyone clucks over the pageant kids, made up and hairsprayed like teenage prom queens, but they still have their own shows. And I’ve yet to hear anyone talk about, much less criticize, “Teach Your Baby To Read”.

The truth is, kids who memorize easily (or very early), often have a hard time reading more difficult text when they hit second or third grade. And forget about developing their thinking skills. Memorization does jack for those. But all those parents can now brag that their one year olds can read, which I guess is more imporant than age-appropriate or thinking.

Score another one for the assholes.

After some trauma in my youth and an ugly first marriage, I worked really hard on my mental health. I became a happy person. The only voice in my head was mine.

And then I had kids.

Now being in my head is like being at a committee meeting ALL THE TIME. There’s an officious president who’s all about following the rules from the parenting books (You can’t let the baby cry! Have you read to them for twenty minutes? ), the crackpot in the back (Why don’t you just chill and let everyone eat ice cream for dinner?), the one who’s read too many self-help books (You’re not giving enough hugs! Hug that kid who just used crayon all over her carpet!), the one who’s not paying attention (I wonder if Daisy of Love will be as good as Rock of Love?), the mommy blogger (Will this be funny enough for a post, or just humiliating?), the nutritionist (Where is all the organic food you were supposed to buy? They have to eat carrots!) and my mother (Don’t take a break! You haven’t done everything yet!).

It’s a wonder no one’s caught me talking to myself yet.

Do you have voices in your heads? Or do I really need that much fantasized about week in the loony bin?

South Carolina is pretty boring on I-95 I can’t wait until we get to Savannah I love Savannah. Garmin Girl is telling us to go a different way than the hotel website said but of course we have to listen to her though it is a relief to get off of 95 wow there’s no traffic here.

Oh my look at that bridge I’m going to have to admit that Garmin Girl sent us a good way this view is AWESOME now we are going to find the hotel wow this neighborhood looks dodgy are those project houses? They totally are but this can’t be right because the website said we’d be in the historic district and I’m pretty sure they don’t put section 8 houses in historic districts oh my that’s the hotel well at least the lobby’s nice and we’re blocks from the historic district

GOOD LORD the historic district seems far poor Hot Guy pushing this behemoth triple stroller oh my Goddess I am hungry at least these projects don’t seem as bad as the ones I used to teach by we are never going to make it down to River Street with this stroller where are the ramps? Maybe we can find a place up here on Bay Street oh look a pub. I want a beer.

Hmmmm . . .this is good and they have kids’ food and what the hell are those girls wearing? They look like sorority and fraternity kids but those dresses look like hooker dresses from the ’80’s and the shoes are trampy too oh please god don’t tell me all those nice looking young frat guys brought hookers to a formal I am NOT staring, Hot Guy, and anyway they wouldn’t notice if I was, I’m old. I like this mixed aged happy hour crowd but I don’t like dragging Ironflower through it on the way to the bathroom oh the bathroom lady moved here from NJ and loves it I want to move to Savannah too

This walk back sucks and I don’t like the way that homeless guy is looking at us and I don’t care if that makes me prejudiced against the homeless or the mentally ill or whatever God I am SWEATING. . . .I love it here.

I can’t believe ChunkyMonkey is sleeping through the night but Lovebug is waking me up. . Uggghhhhhh. ..need sleep. ..so tired. … .

We are finally going to get to the Gulf Coast of Florida today but wow, northern Florida is kinda ugly. I was thinking that I would enjoy driving on this smaller road connecting 95 to 75 but I was so wrong I feel like I’m in Deliverance country and the traffic is so SLOW and we’re never going to get there. . .

Gainesville is the ugliest college town I have ever seen.

How come no one in Florida understands the basic traffic laws? I can’t believe all these crazy people passing on the right at 100 mph and the people on the left chugging along at 60 this is nuts and totally freaking me out God bless Hot Guy for driving oh please stop crying and whining Lovebug I want out of the car too JUST SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

Oh my poor baby Chunky has been such a trouper he’s finally done too bad the drive isn’t I hope he stops crying soon he’s full and and his diaper is new he’s just sick of the seat poor baby STOP CRYING, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I wonder if pulling my hair out of my head would make me feel better we have been on the road for over 20 hours all together and I just want to get there and THESE OLD PEOPLE ARE FUCKING INSANE DRIVERS it would be so tragic if we died now and my last thoughts were about how sick I am of I Spy and why didn’t I spend money on DVD players? Why?

The other night my mother very graciously agreed to baby-sit so that I could go see Hot Guy in a play reading. The reading was for a playwright’s competition and Hot Guy is a friend of the author. I’d been dying to see (this was the second or third reading that Hot Guy’s done for it) this play, as it’s about soccer moms in our area. And how one of them totally loses it.

I really enjoyed the play. It was funny and absurdist, but the characters rang very true. My kind of thing. Afterward, there was a question and answer session with the audience. And two – self-professed former soccer moms – women complained about a scene in the play. In the scene, the main character has a monologue where she talks about having cybersex. By this point, it’s clear that the character is already losing it and feeling abandoned by her husband. The monologue is not graphic at all and at the end she even talks about wanting to wash her hands because they feel dirty. But these women felt that it was “out of character” for such a devoted mom. (Side note: One of the women also complained about the swearing in the play. Let me tell you, this was no Quentin Tarantino type dialog. The only swearing was when a few of the characters were very, very pissed off. It totally fit.)

I was appalled by these audience members and their attitude. I didn’t say anything, though. Mainly because I it would be a bit unseemly for a hugely pregnant woman to start arguing the side of cybersex. And a guy who works with my parents was there. And I feared getting the audience discussion off track from the play, because I’m a huge fan of digression.

But since I didn’t say anything that night, I have to say it now. I don’t think being a good mom and being curious about cybersex are mutually exclusive. Most people I know have tried cybersex. Most of them tried it long before they became parents, but I don’t think the character’s trying it is so weird. In the play, she is feeling isolated and that she’s lost her sense of self. She feels powerless and alienated from her husband. She has nothing beyond being a parent. It is late at night, her chores are done, her children are asleep and her husband isn’t home. Curiosity gets the better of her.

Do you guys think that’s so shocking?

Or am I just being defensive because I’m pretty sure I too would go over the edge if I didn’t spend too much time blogging and reading?

I have a waving acquaintance with most of the people in my neighborhood. It’s hard not to when you live in a townhouse complex and spend time outside. I’ve even had actual conversations with most of the people near me. But not the people directly across the street.

The couple directly across the street doesn’t have any kids (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and seems to work incredibly long hours. They also seem to think I’m a freak when I sit on our tiny porch and read in the evening (the light is not very good on the deck) because they never wave at me when they come home.

And while it may be possible that I’ve had too much time on my hands in the evenings (the carpal tunnel preventing much evening typing, Hot Guy being out of town), I don’t think I’ve gone all Rear Window. . .yet. (Rear Window – Alfred Hitchcock movie where homebound guy becomes convinced that his neighbor has killed his wife. I think there was a remake with Shia LeBouef.) I don’t think the unfriendly couple across the street has murdered anyone. But I do think something fishy is going on.

A couple weeks ago they cleaned out the garage. They also hosed down enough folding chairs for a small wedding – which they then carried into a house. They also put a refrigerator in the garage. I didn’t think anything about it until the other night. A van pulled up to their house and ten chattering young people got out, laden with shopping bags. They went into the neighbors’ and didn’t come back out. The next night the same thing happened. Last night four or five people came walking up to the house and disappeared inside.

Now, before you say “party”. Let me point out that most of these sightings have been on weeknights. And what kind of party entails everyone arriving all at once in the same car? And who has three parties in the same week? And why do all the guests have beat up shopping bags? And why are they all younger than the couple who owns the townhouse?

I think it’s weird. My pregnant brain says they’ve started a cult.

Do you think I need to get out more?

Last night I settled down in bed to watch the end of the Daily Show. Jon was interviewing an author (whose name, and book title, I can’t seem to remember) who had spent time with various “fringe” type groups. One of those groups was a church in Texas – the one run by Reverend Hagee, who may or may not be a buddy of John McCain’s. Anyway, he discussed a retreat he went on with them. New members worked at casting out their personal demons by throwing them up into bags. After working through sin, greed, lust and the other biggies, the new church members were instructed to cast out the demons of hand-writing analysis.

Now, generally I am nervous around people who take the Bible (or the Torah, or the Koran, or the sayings of their cult leader) literally. But I try not to make fun, because I do believe in God – and tolerance. However, some people don’t deserve that respect. The Taliban. Polygamists. People who think that hand-writing analysis is demonic. I mean, seriously?

The, let’s call it the romantic side of me, would love to believe in demons – I would love to believe that child molesters and rapists are actually possessed by demons and not actually humans committing atrocities. But even if you do believe in demon possession, do you really think hand-writing analysis is the province of a demon? Can you see Satan handing out demon assignments, “You- pedophilia, You- spree killing, You hand-writing analysis!”

There are a lot of religious dicta that confuse me, or even repulse me, but usually I can see the (often ridiculous) logic behind them. But I can’t understand how hand-writing analysis – understanding people’s personalities, if you will – would piss God off. Or lead to sin. “Oh my, Sue, the way your letters slant upwards and indicate your self-confidence really turns me on. Let’s throw out all of our morals and do it right here on the desk!” Is that really going to happen? It just doesn’t seem as logical (and pathetic) as forbidding dancing, which can be very sexy. Besides, Sue’s self-confidence could be obvious without anyone knowing how to analyze her handwriting.

I just don’t get it.

Let’s chat, shall we? I have a few things I’d like to share about my life these days.

1. I have my first post up at Prefabcosm.com, which is the work-at-home job I’ve mentioned. Mostly I do research, though.

2. I’m getting used to feeling nauseous all the time, but I’m really bitter about the fact that all of my pants/jeans/skirts are already so uncomfortable that all I wear are yoga pants and the 7$ maternity jeans I got on Target.com. With the other two, I didn’t wear maternity clothes until the second trimester. This is just so wrong.

3. The houseguests are still around. They have been staying at my parents’, though they often spend an afternoon here. I’d like to ask your opinion on a few things about them, because they seem to think that we’re the weird ones. (BTW, this is really not Hubby’s fault and he feels guilty enough, so don’t pick on him, okay? This is really about them.)

-Would you ever invite yourself to stay with non-family members for longer than a weekend? (apparently, they also spent six weeks staying with a family in Brazil)

-If you were staying at someone’s house, would you leave their coffee mug in the sink while you put all of your dishes in the dishwasher?

-If you were staying at a virtual stranger’s house after assuring them that you would be buying your own food, would you eat their tomatoes, eggs and bread after they said you could have some lettuce?

-If you were staying an hour’s train ride from New York City for three weeks, would you only go into the city three times, instead spending your days watching TV, playing a computer game, reading and working on your book based on characters you created with your friends in high school?

-If you were having a lovely dinner at the home of your friend’s in-laws, who are letting you stay with them, would you get up and walk away from the table while all of the other adults were still talking? And would you then motion for your girlfriend to join you so that she could rub your neck?

-Would you be pissed if, the hostess of the home you were staying in for two weeks asked you to stay out of the kitchen one morning (instead of cooking your normal fried breakfast) because she was scrubbing its floor?

-Would you say thank you if someone folded your laundry for you?

4. I took Lovebug to the new pediatrician today for his belated two year check-up (because we FINALLY have health insurance! Yay us!). I LOVE the new pediatrician and her staff. But she is concerned about Lovebug’s articulation – I understand him more than 50% of the time (apparently 50% is the norm for two year olds), but other people probably don’t. If it doesn’t get better within the next month, I’m to call Early Intervention. But I’m wondering if I should just call now? I’m also wondering if frustration over us not understanding him is what causes his meltdowns.

5. I have signed the children up for story time at the library. I am afraid. When I used to take Ironflower to story time in Kansas City, she would not sit still for any of it. She ran around until the craft time came. While I think school might have mellowed her, I’m pretty sure Lovebug will not deign to sit with me and listen to a story when we do that at home. But it’s free and will keep them entertained for thirty minutes. So what if it raises my blood pressure, right?

6. This post really wasn’t that funny, was it? How come when other bloggers write their random posts I always find them funny, but I can’t do it on my own?