ms. malaprop – Page 13 – Wrekehavoc.com

Category: ms. malaprop

DIY

Posted on March 25, 2008 by wrekehavoc

you can pick your friends.

you can pick your nose.

but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.

–anonymous

maybe you can’t pick your friend’s nose, but you can hire people to pick the lice out of your kid’s head. in fact, you can outsource all sorts of parenting challenges, from toilet training to saying no. some of the things you can get someone else to do for you, quoting NY Magazine:

… TEACH HIM HOW TO RIDE A BIKE
… TAKE HIM FISHING
… TALK TO HIM
… IMPART GOOD BREEDING
… TEACH HIM THE BIRDS AND THE BEES
… GO ON COLLEGE TOURS
… DRIVE HIM EVERYWHERE

understand that i’m not completely innocent here. when BC was young, we had a hell of a time teaching her how to sleep, compounded by a never-ending ear infection, reflux, and an inability to gain weight, which meant she needed to be fed around the clock. i read books, i tried a zillion things. the girl wouldn’t sleep. it caused problems in our health, our family life, our work and everything else.

to make a long story short, when jools was beginning to exhibit serious sleep issues, i heard of a magical person who would help us teach hellboy how to sleep. it was a good thing, too, because BS and i could not agree how to handle the problem. i probably would have never let jools sleep anywere except in our bed or in my arms until he was 40; BS would have simply closed the door and walked off into the sunset, leaving the boy to scream. all. night. long.

(when you’re sleep-deprived, few ideas seem insane.)

this was nearly five years ago, but for $300, this person performed nothing short of a miracle. she taught us how to teach our son to sleep. her sleep solution, somewhere between my and BS’s ideas about sleep training, put us dazed parents on the same page, allowed us to continue dream feeds for a time (jools, too, was underweight), and get the boy to sleep through the night pretty rapidly. the dude is still the best sleeper in the house, and it’s all thanks to the extremely wonderful magical sleep person. if i ever see her again, i will hug her endlessly.

by teaching us, she saved my family.

i often wonder about why some people have children. i think kids are just sort of part of an expected tradition in our society: get married, get a house, have kids. but some people simply should not breed. maybe they simply aren’t ready; maybe they’ll never be ready; maybe other things are more important to them. get a cat; don’t make a baby. unlike any other relationship in your life, the parent-child bond cannot be broken. you can divorce your spouse, ignore your siblings, end friendships.

but your child will always be your child. not an accessory. a living person who requires your involvement and your guidance. it doesn’t matter whether both parents work inside or outside of the home. it’s not the quantity of the time you spend — it’s the quality. and while every single solitary moment does not need to be a Mr. Rogers moment, there are certain things that a parent ought to do. and there are certain things a parent should want to do.

i wonder why parents outsource certain activities. teaching your kid to ride a bike and taking them fishing (or shopping or whatever your recreational activity of choice) — these are fun times not to be missed. and what parent doesn’t want to be there to ask and/or field questions when touring a college? (you can bet your ass i am going to make sure i find out about the party situation on campus and be as involved as the kids will let me when the time comes.)

and simply talking to your child? discussing sex? teaching him/her how to be a decent person? hello??? this is why you’re here. to share your ideas about how to be a kind and contributing member of society. it’s one thing if you need guidance on how to do any of these things; as the cliché goes, kids don’t come with a manual. so seek out help if you need it with some of the thornier parts of parenthood. read books. talk to clergy or professionals. ask friends or relatives.

but when the actual doing needs to get done, do it yourself.

guilty pleasure monday: what’s he got by the producers

Posted on March 24, 2008August 14, 2014 by wrekehavoc

ah, it’s guilty pleasure monday again. all the guilt. all of the pleasure. (at least for me, anyway.) if you’ve heard of this one, then you’re probably my age, or maybe a teensy whit younger or older. it’s a tiny little subset of american humanity, and it’s probably the only group who may actually recall this evanescent blip on the new wave radar.

the producers were an very early staple on very early MTV — you know, the station which formerly played music videos but now shows music videos only at random hours and moments, sandwiched between stupid reality shows and dorky dramas featuring incredibly spoiled people who have no grasp of reality? yeah, that one.

i loveloveloved watching videos on early MTV. didn’t care if people were just standing and faux playing in front of a moving background. loved it anyway. before that, i would watch videos during half-hour shows on my local cable station. i still remember watching split enz and devo being sooooo awed by the direction in which music seemed to be going. finally, something different from the 1970s pap which, while i loved, i had outgrown.

and i adored watching music on TV. i lived for those moments when i could watch videos on don kirschners’ rock concert or even american bandstand (with the ever-so-creepy dorian grey dick clark. he made me nervous, but i wanted to see and hear music, so i made some sacrifices.) so when MTV exploded into my world, i wanted my MTV, and i wanted it bad. at first, my cable carrier didn’t carry it, and i would go to friends’ homes in other towns and hope that they would put it on if they did have it. but soon enough, i had my MTV.

and i loved it. for awhile, anyway. then i got a life. but that’s a whole other story… 😉

so back to the producers. they burst onto MTV as a peppy, adorable new wave group. i think they even hosted an MTV new years eve show, or were on it, anyway. i don’t think much happened for them after that — i often wonder why. but they still tour, playing their brand of peppy pop. and i love pop. i don’t care who is singing it: a good hook is a good hook. it pulls you right in. and what’s he got has one.

it also has a favorite prom memory for me. (shut your eyes, dad. i know you’re reading this.) a fairly well-known jersey shore bar band, bystander, played my prom, a fairly non-memorable evening for me, as my then-boyfriend was away in north carolina or somewhere equally interesting. so, i went with a good friend from out of town whom i adored and who happened to be very, very attractive — just not to me, i had a boyfriend, remember? — and so several girls in my school were practically hanging all over him (poor guy), wondering what the hell he was doing with me.

naturally, i didn’t want to watch the good women of toms river north fawning all over my date (who, i’m sure, was enjoying the attention. and, as a good friend, i didn’t want to ruin his evening.) bo-ring. so, i took off for awhile and hung out with my friend sebouh, a guy who i hope i see again one day, in spite of the fact that he lobbied the entire senior class to vote for me as class pessimist just because he thought that would be hilarious. (i won.) (can you believe it? i can’t.)

bystander suddenly broke into a cover of what’s he got. sebouh and i started to pogo (yes, children, things like that passed for dancing back in those early 80s days). and as they sang:

what’s he got that i ain’t got?

immediately, i yelled out: A DICK!

(well, it’s TRUE! i am a girl, you know. a seriously classy 18 year old girl at that moment, to be exact. dad, i told you to cover your eyes.)

people around us thought that was hilarious. girls and guys began to chant that at the appropriate place in the song.

yep. i don’t remember much about my prom. but i remember that moment, thinking wow, i couldn’t unite these people to do a hell of a lot. but i could unite them into screaming an obscenity.

that, my friends, is power.

(or, perhaps, a lot of kids just dying to rebel.)

peep show

Posted on March 22, 2008 by wrekehavoc

IT’S EASTER! time for the washington post sunday source’s peep diorama contest!

my vote of course, when not going for my friend wah’s contribution, would definitely go for say anything, if not reservoir peeps.

words

Posted on March 20, 2008 by wrekehavoc

i was tagged by that crazee, childbearin’ gal who-comes-from-alabama-with-a-coupla-babies-on-her-knees (while simultaneously cooking, cleaning, and creating nuclear fission in her kitchen) — ms. onthecurb (via amy derby, whose blog i also like to read) with a meme: share a favorite quote and dedicate it to three other ~~hapless~~ lucky bloggers who keep the love going.

i am a lover of words and quotes, so this is a toughee™ for me. yes, beware the ~~jabberwock~~ english major, for she, yea she, possesses a poetic license and is not afraid to use it. yep. i can quote myriad biggies. there are so many who have inspired me. but anyone who reads this blog regularly knows that my favorite poetry comes from music. and although i know i am supposed to pick only one, there are two lyrics, one by aimee mann, and a simpler one by bruce springsteen, that are hugely influential for me and which seem to work together here.

first aimee mann, from it’s not safe:

All you want to do is something good
So get ready to be ridiculed and misunderstood
‘Cause don’t you know that you’re a fucking freak in this world
In which everybody’s willing to choose swine over pearls

for those of us who are (or think we are) relatively pure of heart and truly aim to do the right thing every day — teaching our kids to be decent people, treating other people kindly, and viewing issues in a global way — even though the world sometimes seems to be in conflict with that goal. for those days when you marvel at other people’s children, or other people’s parents, or just people in general who just loathe you or rip into you simply because you’re living your life your way. it just seems, as mann points out, not safe, to live that way. it rips your heart in two; it occasionally embarrasses or hurts your loved ones; it might not seem like you’re doing the right thing after all.

but then bruce simply and succinctly cuts to the chase. from new york city serenade:

It’s midnight in Manhattan, this is no time to get cute
It’s a mad dog’s promenade
So walk tall or baby don’t walk at all.

or, more to the point, as the divine ms. m once quipped, fuck’em if they can’t take a joke.

i tag these folks, four of the many who inspire me to walk tall every day, even when i step in a field of dog doo:

and

okay. so that’s four. two quotes and four bloggers. see, math is hard for us english majors 😉

guilty pleasure monday: lady (styx)

Posted on March 17, 2008 by wrekehavoc

i’m really going to get laughed off the internet for this one. or at least sent to hell via a certain river.

no, not the chickenmaster’s lady. not lay lady lay (which makes me want to vomit — what the hell was dylan thinking? was this recorded pre- or post-motorcycle incident?) not even layla, a fantastic ode to patti boyd harrison clapton boyd-again.

we’re talking styx here, people. lady. as sung by dennis de young, maybe vocally separated at birth from my very favourite professional poker player, daniel negreanu.

i love this song. and it ought to be against some law for anyone else to sing it.

i glommed onto this song when i was a wee lass of nine. there was something cool about it — it was slow and pretty, and, at the same time, it was fast and rrrrrockin’. (yeah. for those of you under the age of 40, that’s how people talked in the 1970’s. far out, man!) i remember being reminded of the song one night when i heard it while watching a late, lamented show, freaks and geeks.

and i hearted it all over again, much to the chagrin of my BS, who probably prefers something like, uh, i dunno, mr. roboto.

which just goes to show you. styx, in one way or another, is probably on everyone’s guilty pleasure list.

anyone over 40, that is.

a tisket, a tasket akismet=spam basket

Posted on March 14, 2008 by wrekehavoc

woohoo. just officially hit my 1000th piece of spam caught by the mighty Akismet. Akismet rocks, my friends. mightily. and no, i don’t work for them. i’m just really impressed with the product 🙂

can't buy me love

Posted on March 12, 2008 by wrekehavoc

eliot spitzer’s recent alleged dalliance with high-priced prostitutes is just one more disappointment in the world of male leaders, but not a surprise. whether you’re bill clinton with an intern in the oval office, wilbur mills with a stripper in the tidal basin, newt gingrich divorcing his wife by her hospital bedside, or even jim bakker with a church secretary G-d-knows-where, men in power have an abysmal history of being infantile idiots who think they can’t get caught with their hands in the cookie jar, democrats and republicans alike. i even remember rumors of george bush senior having a certain special someone; somehow, that didn’t get much press, though. (wonder why?) it isn’t just politicians, as i pointed out above; it’s just that we hear mostly about the politicians when they’re in trouble. the opposing party of the problem child makes good and well sure of that.

i often joke that living in washington, dc, is like living in the land of former high school student council presidents. smart, nerdy and shrewd, they couldn’t land the cheerleaders in high school. so they come here, and they land usually-smart girls who appreciate a smart guy. only, too bad for the women, since the guys, finally landing a date (or a lay), see that there are other mountains to conquer (so to speak.) they can’t help themselves: they feel like they finally are getting their day in the sun.

unfortunately, they look for this day in the sun after they’ve put a ring on someone else’s finger. cos they’re all about doing the right thing. or having the right image, anyway.

so why would someone with a reputation for corruption-fighting go and throw it all away? what does $5,500 an hour buy? it buys cachet: the i got ice cream, you can’t have it effect (mature language for those listening at work). the same guy who didn’t have a date for the prom, the same guy who didn’t get laid until he was in his 20s, the same guy who probably got beat up one too many times for being a dweeb — now he can have things those morons back home can’t have.

unfortunately, spitzer went beyond the immoral — he went illegal. frankly, i don’t care what politicians do in their personal lives, as long as they don’t break the law. but he did.

i wonder sometimes whether women in power do these similar things. are they tempered by their experiences so that they don’t want to be bothered with extracurricular activities? are they too intelligent or moral for that? or are they smart enough not to get caught with their trousers down?

i know i ought not be surprised by this latest info. but i am still very, very disappointed. calling spitzers literary agent — time for spitzer’s political memoirs: smart men, stupid choices.

guilty pleasure monday: the music from Hair

Posted on March 10, 2008 by wrekehavoc

yesterday, it was my birthday. i hung one more year on the line. i should be depressed; my life’s a mess. but i’m having a good time. – Paul Simon

okay, not too depressed, especially since it’s:

guilty pleasure monday!

anybody still with me out there?

cool. since i’m reflecting on my younger years, i thought i’d drop this heavy trip on you, you dig? groovy.

when i was a little kid, i used to listen to hair incessantly. and yes, i danced around the living room and the basement, just like this little kid is doing. i wanted to let my sun shine in, i wanted to let my freak flag fly, i wanted to understand what the hell these people were doing and whether their parents knew. (i was 4 when this came out, people. remember, i was a rather ~~messed-up~~ precocious child.)

a long time ago, i ranted about how much i hated the movie version of hair and how my parents let me run around the house singing a song with nasty, awful words i’ve declined to put in the blog because: a) i get enough weird search referrals, and b) if i did, one day, my kids — probably hellboy — will do a search to find all the naughty words on earth — and he’ll find them here in his mama’s blog? and need lots of therapy? thank you, no.

i don’t need to rewrite the tale; all i can say is that if someone threatened to barrage me with showtunes while i drove cross-country, i’d probably be ok with that if the show was hair.

(it’s my birthday. or at least it was. so indulge me, please.)

valerie loves me!

Posted on February 26, 2008 by wrekehavoc

well, actually, i love america’s sweetheart, circa 1980. valerie bertinelli, former wife of eddie van hamster (and ohmyGAWD he’s too cute in this clip) has written a tell-all book about her life, including bits about drug use (NO!) and infidelity (NOOOOOO!) and even dates with stephen spielberg (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)

but valerie wins quote of the week, even this early, with this gem:

“I just figured, if they’re going to watch me lose 40 lbs. and I’m going to be embarrassed that way, and there’s going to be fat-ass pictures of me with my butt hanging out in Hawaii, I thought, ‘Why not let the inner me out, too?'” Bertinelli said. “Because the inner me is, I hope, prettier than the outer me.”

fat-ass pictures of me with my butt hanging out. words no publicist would ever write.

i love this girl.

hello, jenny craig? i’m bringing my fat ass down.

big time

Posted on February 20, 2008 by wrekehavoc

well, maybe not the big time, but a first for me. i actually stood up in front of real people, paid-ticket people, people i don’t even know (mostly), and dredged up bits from my ancient, sadly melodramatic journals for the DC mortified show. (proof here, thanks to master wine drinker/pourer kellyo.)

here’s a thrilling secret: i’m terrified at standing in front of people and talking. (don’t tell anyone, ok? 😉

seriously though, as i explained to BS as we drove into DC last night, i like to do things that scare me so that i won’t be scared of them. (neurosis ain’t the boss of me!) i hope my kids are far more fearless than i have been in my life. i intend to continue conquering each and every thing that terrifies me (okay, most things. i think shooting up dope and skydiving are probably not in my future. mom and dad, you can relax now.)

BS, being a most excellent driver, found street parking; and off we hoofed to HR-57. he was patting me all along, telling me i was going to do fine. i think after 20 years, he has figured out that when i get quiet, r e a l l y r e a l l y quiet, that i am nervous. and when i start singing along to the Grateful Dead on the radio, then i am all-out terrified. (oh, don’t jump on me, people. i like the Dead just as much as the next over-X-year old. i just don’t like singing along with them. except for this one and this one.)

(Public Service Announcement: rick. if you’re still out there. please explain to me who the doodah man is.)

anywho, there i was, singing along with truckin’, a song i don’t even like. and there was BS, trying to be the most supportive husband on earth. and suddenly, as i approach the door of HR-57, i hear a voice yell: “SHERRRRRR!” kelly arrived out of nowhere and told me that she, molly, and a friend of her’s from work were next door, tucking into some sake and dinner. i was so touched that they came out, sans tickets, and were going to try and get on the waitlist. (you dudes have no idea how much that meant to me.)

i was warmly welcomed by my producer andi, who should be knighted for actually making a storyline emerge from my written blather. BS bought me a red stripe, and the uber-producer, the divine ms. sarah disgrace, gave me my very own trapper keeper. so i was feeling pretty good about life. and then, my two pals (and a new one) were able to join us up front.

yay!

loved the two people who read before me. loved the people who read after me. and i think i did ok. i kept thinking, jeez, my voice gets squeaky when i’m trying to pretend i’m a teenager. what gives? it’s not like i was a teenaged b-o-y. ah well. but i talked about how i was so busy being superior to everyone else because i was superior to everyone else in my high school. (that’s a joke there for anyone who shows up here from TRN. a j-o-k-e. i certainly wasn’t superior to people like maria ressa, a really sweet, talented, and nice chick who probably doesn’t remember me from adam… okay. so, i might not have been superior to plenty of folks, k? nobody better throw punch at me or pull a carrie on me if i make it to the 25th reunion this summer.)

the martyr of toms river north survived, i tell ya.

after the show, a guy came up to me and said, “did you go to north? you mentioned mr. leonard — i went to TRN, too!” as it turns out, he’s about 10 years younger than i am, but we know similar people and went to the same day camp. in fact, i may have been his counselor. the world is strange and wonderful.

so much fun! so much wine! so much support! i hope i get to do it again if i didn’t eff up too much.

many thanks to the producers, especially andi and sarah grace, queen of cupcakes. many thanks to kelly, molly, and my new BFF elizabeth. humungous thanks to michelle (and you know who you are, madam) who helped me find an awesome friend of hers to watch BC and jools. thanks to my family for giving me years of fodder — and love.

and major thanks to BS. the proverbial wind beneath my wings.

(c’mon. we’re celebrating bad writing here. i had to go with it 😉