Thursday, February 26, 2009

No Fucking Way

I consider myself a trendy mom. I try to adapt to changes in the fashion world within reason. If I can find it in a non-Junior size and I don't look like a matronly frump, I'll wear it. There are certain restrictions I have though. I will never, ever wear acid wash again. It looked like shit on my zip-ankle, tapered 1988 Guess jeans so I'm sure it won't look any more appealing now. I will never bring back the Miami Vice shoulder pads.I looked like I was smuggling waffles in my shirt during the 80's. I will not wear a bubble skirt because it looks like Stevie Wonder altered the hem of my dress with rubber gloves on his hands. Jelly shoes are also taboo. They made my feet sweaty, slippery, and covered with blisters. I don't care if Prada or Gucci comes out with them, the only jellies I will have in my life belong on my English muffin.

The trend nowadays is steering strongly towards hip hop-influenced style. Baggy pants, crazy colored basketball shoes (called "dunks"), retro logo t-shirts, and raggedy scarves strewn haphazardly around the neck. A big part of the look consists of sweat pants. To make this look super authentic you can pull one leg up to your calf (does right leg up mean something different that left???) and even pull one or both pockets inside out, left to hang like a limp dick. Sweat pants suck. If you are a hip hop dancer or a teen then more power to yo' hip hop ass. I do not enjoy how I look or feel in sweatpants. Recently I was given a pair as part of promotional wear for a big show my dance company (I teach for them, I don't dance anymore). I tried them on, tried pulling and folding and layering but nothing I did made me feel dope or cool or kickin'. I looked like a dumpy mom trying to pull off a really bad look.

Sweat pants make me feel like I just shit my pants. I cannot imagine any other reason why one would need a crotch to reach down just above your knees. If you have panties full of dung maybe you need that extra room to hang. I am hoping I never need a colostomy bag but I sure as shit know what I will be wearing. Extra-large men's sweatpants. I will wear sweat pants if I am cleaning my house, freezing my ass off and ready for bed, or have a raging case of the flu--probably with the shits. Sweats are very conducive for easy on/easy off activities. I know that sounds sort of sexual but trust me, no one ever got a piece of ass due to their baggy sexiness from a pair of sweats. I am the antithesis of sexy in sweat pants. If skinny jeans are Cameron Diaz or Jessica Alba then sweat pants are Rosanne Barr or Wynona Judd. NOT fucking sexy. I think a horny 18 year-old virgin on 2 hits of Ecstasy would decline some tail donned in some slouchy-ass cotton/poly shit bags with elasticized ankles.

I have a host of young teens who try to convince me, "Miss Molly!! Yes you CAN pull off sweat!! You look so cool in them!" But I know as soon as I turn down the hall to exit the building they are thinking, "Is it just me or did Miss Molly smell like dookie? I think she crapped herself in class! Not that you could even tell in those spaz-a-licious pants she can't pull off. What a douche rag.."

Now where is my neon Benetton sweater and hot pink leggings?

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Still?!!

I am a grown woman. I have been married a long time. I can drive really well without even thinking. I almost never cut my legs when shaving. I have two daughters who are old enough to pick out their own clothes, shower on their own, and talk smack to me. I know it won't even be too long before I have to deal with periods and teenage hormones. That's gonna suck donkey balls, by the way. My point being these are skills of an adult, not a newbie teenager who is gaga over the Jonas brothers (okay, Joe is my favorite because Kevin wears his jeans way too tight and Nick looks like he's 12..). I went through puberty a long, long ass time ago. So WHY am I still cursed with random acne outbursts? Why, God, WHY?!
I have Neckne (pronounced NECK-nee) right now. That's acne of the neck. I have this gargoyle tumor on the side of my neck near my jawline which makes me look like I could be a God damn stand-in for Young Frankenstein. It is a flaming red bolt. Of course I cannot leave it alone, which is very juvenile of me. I have fashioned a frozen ice pack and a scarf into a makeshift decompression device. It's either that or I wear a Dickie (the neck of a turtleneck minus the shirt. If you don't know what I'm referring to then you are missing out..) with my leotard to teach ballet tonight. It hurts like a bitch.

I have suffered similar maladies in my post-pubescent years. This past fall I had a whopper on the end of my nose, making my schnoz look bulbous and red like an alcoholic hobo panning for coins in a subway station. It's like God is giving me the benefit of the doubt.
"See, Molly, I will give you LESS zits on the surface area of your face but the ones you get well... Good luck with all THAT. You might look like a leper or a circus freak for 7-10 days but then it should clear up with some minor scar tissue."
I had one on my forehead last summer that made me almost audition for the Ringling Brothers' Circus. Can you just see them shit their pants when a real-live unicorn with TITS walks in? We're talking star of the show, baby.

I am a pretty clean person. I bathe daily, wash my face twice daily. What gives? I suppose it could be worse. I could have Backne or Assne. Ass zits are the worst. It's been awhile but it's like having a God damn hemorrhoid on your butt cheek. Those moms who have given birth to large babies from their hoo-ha know what I'm talkin' about. Not pleasant. Like you're sitting on an extra large thumbtack.

My Tumor-liciousness will subside and I will feel like one of those reborn cuties in the "after" profiles on the Pro-Active commercials.
"I had giant boil zits covering 90% of my face. I had no friends. People called me Elephant Girl. I pretended I was Muslim just so I could cover my face all the time. I used Pro-Active and my life changed like magic! I had 3 boyfriends. I wore bikinis to school! I quit marching band and was asked to be head cheerleader. Thanks, Pro-Active!!"
Like these perfect specimens of humanity, I will have little recollection of my previous affliction. Until Christmas strikes early and I am poised and ready for my stand-in role as Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer.

For the time being, I will wear tall turtlenecks, wear my hair down to camouflage the hideousness, and pray to the patron saint of acne, St. Boilus Maximus, to spare me of a lengthy healing process. Until then you might not see me much, I will be in hiding not unlike the Hunchback of Notre Dame. But I am the Boil-neck of Bolingbrook. Sexy time..

Monday, February 9, 2009

Candy, Candy Everywhere and Not a Drop to Eat!

I'm gettin' on this rant again. Sorry if it is old. I am Angry 3rd Grade Party Mom. Welcome to my own personal hell. It's called Treat Bags with NO FUCKING TREATS. How is a pencil a treat? How is one of this shitty little pinball mazes that the silver ball gets stuck in the corner a treat?! How are flimsy little spiral notepads with 5 sheets of paper a TREAT?! I'll tell you how....they are NOT TREATS in any way, shape, or form!!

I was at Target today. There were about 10 moms circling the Valentine's Day aisles like vultures. We were keenly avoiding the massive bags of chewy and sour and chocolate candy as if we all had peanut allergies and we were touring the Planter's Nut factory with nary an epi pen in sight. Were were scrutinizing the non-candy items, looking at the number of items per bag. Would it fucking kill them to put a normal number of prizes in a bag, like 10 or 30?? 12 is NOT a good number. There are 29 fucking students in each class I will supply these sorry-as-shit excuses for treat bags. That means I will be stuck with pounds of heart-shaped erasers or wedding bubble containers or bendy straws. Thanks, Chinese bullshit manufacturers. Are there exactly 24 students in each of YOUR elementary classrooms? Well yippdee fucking doo for you. Would you like a statistical chart of the typical classroom demographic here in ILLINOIS?! Cuz' it sure as shit ain't 24!!!

I received a kind little note from the principal noting that any Valentine card with candy items taped to them will not be allowed to be passed out and will be returned home with the child. Excuse me, are we in Nazi Germany? Am I handing out RUFIES to these kids? Is Michael Phelps loading my treat bags with joints? It is a God damn BLOW POP. Fuck you, Plainfield School District. "Health and Wellness Policy" my white ass. This is not old news to my regular readers..

If I want my kids to avoid cavities from sugary treats, I will not let them eat all 29 candy items they might receive in their Valentine's Day bag. My kids actually prefer an apple as a snack, as a matter of fact. But holy shit, they will become addicted to that holy grail of sugar ecstasy if they get some REAL treats for a classroom party. Get the exorcism ready! God will strike me down because surely my child is headed for a life of debauchery, drug addiction, and (oh the fucking SHAME of it!!!) SUGAR HIGHS if they are exposed to that candy!!!!

When it is Halloween, your child should have candy. When it is Christmas (not "Winter Holiday" or "Snow Bonanza" or whatever the religion phobic fucktards who got on one too many school boards decided to call it now), there should be candy. Valentine's Day is all about candy, too. Our kids have exactly three parties each year. It is not weekly. Let them have some fucking fun. I knew someone who was deprived of sugar. She turned into a crazy crack head sweet-seeker when she was away from her parents. I think I saw her mainlining lemon custard from a powdered donut when she had her freedom. Is a couple of Hershey's Kisses really so bad? A mini Tootsie Pop on my Hannah Montana "Best of Both Worlds, Sweetheart!" Valentine? Because with this ghetto-ass PTA budget the treats are now coming out of my pocket. And as a paying member of my child's holiday festivities, I would rather they bring something home someone can consume rather than the bullshit plastic crap that will no doubt hit the trash can within a week. So help me God, I am going to stab myself in my jugular if I get one more holiday pencil. Or maybe I'll dip them all in chocolate and leave a bouquet of craziness for each of the principals and board members. But I will make sure to include my "Jesus is the Reason for the Season" light display. They love that as much as Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Thought Nobody Would Notice?

And the nominees for "Most Oblivious Celebrity Who Thought No One Was Looking" are.....

Michael Phelps!!! You thought that by being in Ann Arbor, Michigan and hanging out with a bunch of tokers everyone would "just be cool" and not take any photos. Holy shit were you HIGH to believe that crock! You are one of the most famous Olympic athletes EVER. You have millions of dollars in public endorsements. You are a role model to millions of KIDS all over the world. I hope that 30 minute buzz was worth it.

Alex Rodriguez!!! You are one of the prettiest baseball players around. Your social butterfly skills have made you quite a recognized face with the paparazzi. You have managed to circumvent Madonna's Kabbala chastity belt and tap that chiseled 50 plus year-old ass. My guess is that your "performance enhancing drugs" might include a little Viagra. You are an idiot. An idiot with perfectly curled eyelashes.... and you're A DUDE.

Chris Brown!!! You are young. You are one of the hottest young singers around. You are dating freakin' RIHANNA. You can dance like Michael Jackson. And something inside you snaps to the point where you beat up a girl?! REALLY? You are as dumb as your diamond stud earrings are gaudy as shit. And now you will be going to jail. You'll be doing a whole lot of that freaky Michael Jackson freaky crotch-grab in prison. A heeee heeee heeeeee! (That's the sound effect of his voice...)

My vote is for Chris Brown. You can only say "allegedly" so many times, dude. Such a shame but this seems to be a pattern with celebrities who've had some serious time in the spotlight. I am bad-ass. I am going to party. I am going to not play by the rules so I can be a winner (which makes you a loser..). I'm going to slap my woman around and leave marks on her because I'm a big tough man who enjoys dominating women. Classy, real classy.

Michael Phelps, the only reason you will ever get laid is because you have more gold bling than P. Diddy. Your mouth is more jacked up than Elliot Yamin before that dentist donated those piano keys which are now his teeth. You can't even talk right. Maybe instead of spending all that time at the pool or in the dorms sparking a big fatty, you could have been put on a payment plan at House of Orthodontics. Fangle-toothed mother fucker.

A-Rod, your skin is caramel-icious. You probably wear foundation. You dress like a pimp. You think we don't know you were banging the Material Girl? You HAD to take steroids to actually hold that bat. Fuck, what if you broke one of those freshly manicure nails!! The horror!!

I am disappointed but glad I am thus far a non-famous person in the suburban streets of mid-West America. If I become famous I vow to smoke crack only in the privacy of my own john, take steroids ONLY when I need to look ripped for the Miss Cougar USA pageant, but I will never beat up on my man. I might slap my cats around a bit but who doesn't want to slap a disobedient pussy now and then? They are annoying and bulimic, probably like Rihanna. Ohhhhh, I WENT there!!!!