I Wanna Be Sedated


I have been off the grid for a while-and also with a small, or rather, a large case of blogger block. But an estrogen fest last week cured that (more on that tomorrow) and the e-card below did too.

When 16 was a newborn, we had read books on how to make your babies brain smarter, calmer, etc. Baby Einstein was not out yet but you bet I would have bought in to those hook, line and credit card.

Like Madge (Madonna), we didn’t let her watch TV, that is until I found that it was a wonderful pacifier for an active 2 year old. And speaking of pacifiers, we let her keep hers until she was 4. Sue me. It was either that or DFACS knocking at my door. And after 2 rounds of braces and a second mortgage on the house, she has the most beautiful set of choppers in the hood. So there.

But to the above card. We are so proud of the teenager. I actually caught her listening to Led Zeppelin last month, and then she was in a ‘Hotel California’ mood for a couple of nights last week. Maybe I should have checked for weed…

When she was a baby, she would lay under one of those gym thingies and kick and bat at the hangie toys while BC played classical music in the background. He just knew she was going to be brilliant. He also played his nerd music which I call Bread, Hall and Oates, Jim Croce, Harry Chapin, Don MacLea (its what I call it folks, don’t hate). I was worried that he was going to destroy her love for radical music. So I made sure I had on Zeppelin in the car, along with old Rolling Stones, AD/DC, Jethro Tull, Hendrix, Ramones, ZZ Top, REM…

Yes, she did go through the pre-teen music of Aaron Carter, Lizzie McGuire and Disney.  Oh, and we did suffer through Barney CD’s as a toddler.  She had the habit of throwing something at you from the back car seat if you changed the CD. Wheels on the Bus kicked my ass.

Now, I am happy to say she has a wide variety of music on her iPod.  Some of which the lyrics are highly questionable.  And offensive.  Yes, you heard me right.  I like the F Bomb as much as anyone but they way they use it in some of these songs by those who wear grills, low britches, or orange hair, is not for being funny.  I had to talk my sister out of teaching her pre-school class how to whistle with the latest Flo-rida song.  Those private school parents would not have appreciated their little precious ones coming home and singing that song over and over…

The times I hear Bob Marley coming from her room, I do the smell test.  Smells like chicken folks.  But it ain’t chicken.  I over react to everything…

Anyway, she IS in to a DubStep phase-whatever that crap is.  But she knows all the words to ‘I wanna Be Sedated.‘ By the Ramones.

She is soooo my daughter.


When I Grow Up I Wanna Be…….


I so wanna be her!

When I grow up, I want to be the Weed and Braids Lady. You know, the gal in Jamaica that sits there as you wobble off that Carnival Cruise that hawks Bo Derek like corn rows in your hair for $10?

We all  know she has also got to be selling some of that great ganja behind the counter to dress like she does.

Think of it–how relaxing.  You set up a little hut right there at the dock area. You braid hair, you sell shrimp, you rent jet skis, you sell Red Stripe right out of your cooler, smoke a bowl.  Have Babylon By Bus going on your iPod. And you take cash only.

Why do we women, especially American women, feel the need to be the perfect mom, wife, friend, business person, PTO lady, homeroom mom, etc. ????

We are killing ourselves!

And because we are all now educated to some degree, we are micromanaging our kids to the point that they can barely function in a real world competitive environment.

There are times that we all have our Thelma and Louise moments–you know-screw it and get in a car with a girlfriend with a case of beer and a carton of cigs and just take off on an unplanned adventure.  Meet Brad along the way.  Stay in cheap motels–well, uh, my T&M moment would include various Intercontinental’s and Ritz Carlton’s…..But, I digress.

I bet that Weed and Braid Lady sleeps really well at night.  She probably doesn’t take any shit from her kids.  All 23 of them.  Ad she doesn’t have to report her income  because it’s cash.  So if she goes out and gets a pair of great sandals, big daddy won’t know about it. Look at that smile…

Where do I apply?

Photo courtesy of dailymail.uk