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Posts Tagged ‘Family’

Dear Zack Snyder:

Herds of people are celebrating your version of “Justice League.” That’s great for you. (I still don’t understand why it had to be four hours, but good for you and your “vision.”)

I did not watch the Joss Whedon version. My family invited me, but I declined.

Considering the fact that I fell asleep during “Batman v. Superman” and the last installment of the Bale Batman series, I thought it would be a pricey nap.

I’m just a Marvel kind of gal.

Why?

  1. The characters are more interesting.
  2. The story arcs make more sense.
  3. There’s humor.
  4. I’m never bored.

Before your fans come after me with torches, let me just say that these are all just my opinions. I realize that there are DC diehards. To each his own.

But I had planned to give your version a go because people I like and respect liked it.

I had not planned to be forced to watch it after a long day of driving and this adult Capri Sun.

But Dominic insisted.

After the first five minutes featured yelling only, I knew this was not the movie for me.

Me: How long does this screaming last?
Dominic: [lengthy plot explanation]
Me: I don’t want to know the plot. I’m watching it. I should be able just to watch this movie without back story.

How have I seen loads of DC movies and never seen/heard of Steppenwolf (the hammerhead supervillain made of what looks like razor blades)? Was I napping?

Why is Wonder Woman wearing a club dress to work?

Why does Aquaman even bother with shirts if he’s just going to leave them littering beaches?

I made it 38 minutes before I settled in for my DC nap.

You know it’s bad when Jason Momoa doesn’t hold my interest.

Even Eddie, who likes DC movies, was forced to watch it alone after three other people fell asleep on him twice.

This morning, Dominic made me watch the Flash scene where he saves Iris. Yes, it was cute. This is a good version of Flash. Also the comic relief. And I like Batfleck. (But he’s no Keaton.)

Still.

Four hours? Six chapters plus an epilogue? Lord.

But you know what? My opinion doesn’t matter. You have three fans IN MY OWN HOUSE to counteract me.

So good for you, and I wish you all the best. You seem like a really nice guy.

And maybe I’ll try again some other time.

Sincerely,
Beth

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Dear Mom of College Friend (and anyone else who shared this meme),

Most of the time, I scroll on past all the crazy things you post. I was taught to respect my elders, so I don’t want to call you out.

But I have thoughts about this meme.

  1. I wrote a whole post about false equivalency. Please read it.
  2. I know that the meme is comparing these two because of their beef, but Cardi B is an entertainer. Candace Owens is not.
  3. It is possible that young girls can idolize both, and also various other public figures as well as people in their own lives.
  4. We need to normalize black and brown people in positions of power. It shouldn’t be EITHER Cardi B OR Candace Owens.
  5. Why is this a left/right thing?

I know you and loads of your kind (aka white Boomers) are clutching your pearls over Cardi B’s Grammy performance and the song in general.

I have thoughts about that too:

  1. I bet you didn’t even watch. Your friends and people on chosen news outlets (i.e., Owens) told you that you should be wound up.
  2. If you did watch and were offended, you could have turned it off.
  3. It should not be considered offensive to celebrate female sexuality. (I got into it at Christmas over “WAP” vs. “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”)

All of this is so silly to me. All my life, I’ve heard older people lose their minds about music, video games, books and whatnot having a negative impact on children.

You know who should be worried about children? Their parents. Period.

I’m far from perfect, but I do frankly address topics like sex, drugs, etc., with my boys. I’d rather they hear the truth from me, as uncomfortable as it may be for them and for me.

So stop worrying about what other people and their children are/are not doing, and mind your own business.

Also, perhaps consider getting out of the meme game.

Sincerely,
Your daughter’s friend

*People actually complained to the FCC about the performance. Get a grip! It’s the Grammys. What do you expect? Everyone knew Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion were going to perform. Just change the channel if you don’t like it.

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Dear People With Normal Human Eyes,

Remember I said I needed glasses almost all the time?

Well, I don’t need glasses to see certain things.

For those things, I’m apparently the ONLY one who can see them.

It’s like my mom superpower.

Here are some of the things only I can see:

Ramen in the sink.

Remains of ramen in a pot.

A measuring cup that won’t get clean.

That there’s no cheese in this container.

The green light on the washer indicating clothes are done.

That the recycling bin is full.

I should feel powerful with all this magical sight.

But I actually feel drained.

Tell me: Can you see these things with your normal human eyes? Or am I really that special?

Yours truly,
Hawkeye

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At least my footwear is fancy.

Dear COVID-19,

We’ve been living with you for about a year. You’re a terrible roommate. You’ve affected the health of 115 million people, killing 2.56 million of us.

You’ve negatively affected almost everyone’s mental health. (I’d like to meet someone who has not been affected.)

I know you’ve affected mine. I’m an extrovert who likes to travel, so …

Here is the truth:

I am not an indoor cat.

I never wanted to be a housewife.

I did not choose to be a stay-at-home mom.

I think it is important to be honest about the situation you’ve put us in. We all tend to put a brave face on things, but let’s not.

Let’s pull back the curtain to see the man behind it.

Things I’ve normalized that I do not want to have normalized:

  • Doing laundry on my lunch break.
  • Wearing glasses almost always because of all the screen time I’ve had this year.
  • Putting on eye makeup if going out, but not lipstick.
  • Putting on lipstick if staying in, but not eye makeup. (No one can tell behind the glasses from Point 2.)
  • Wearing pants without zippers.
  • Accepting slippers as my primary footwear.
  • Understanding that I will have a harder time finding energy on cloudy days.
  • Recognizing that a change of scenery means answering emails from the kitchen instead of the living room.
  • Lamenting the lack of privacy. (High school from home for the boys = I’m never alone!)
  • Having to look at my phone to figure out what day it is.
  • Sitting all day.
  • Not seeing people in human form.

These are small issues compared to loss of life noted above, but they are still issues.

The bottom line: It’s not fun to have you around.

It’s time for you to leave.

As they say in the South, “Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.”

Sincerely,
Beth (and everyone else in the world)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Dear @adampocalypse,

I’m very sorry my public reply to your public question to AITA on Twitter upset you so much that you blocked me.

I’ve never been blocked before — not to my knowledge, anyway.

Maybe you block people regularly, so you don’t remember our exchange.

(And if you do block people regularly, perhaps you should stay off Twitter. Or stop commenting on tweets from popular accounts.)

To remind you, @AITA_reddit posted a selection involving a grown woman whose teenaged boys were mortified by her One Direction decor in one of the bathrooms.

As a mother of teenaged boys, and as someone who loves One Direction, I was interested in the post and fully on her side (as most people were).

But there’s always one person who wants to make it awkward.

That person was you.

It seemed like quite a leap from liking a band to being a pedophile. I’m shocked 584 people implied they agreed with you.

I was compelled to respond. (Because of course I was.) But I wasn’t the only one.

1. Target sold these candles.
2. I guarantee you that most moms of teenaged boys are not into thinking sexually about teenaged boys. They are gross.
3. Yes, I know some women do. That’s gross too. And, thankfully, not that common.

I think you are too sensitive to be on a public forum. You also seem to be projecting.

I am a middle-aged woman who thinks Harry Styles is very cute. He does not meet the age requirement (half my age plus seven) for naughtiness, and also, HE’S A CELEBRITY I’LL NEVER MEET.

Harry IS dating an older woman in the age-gap allowance (Olivia Wilde), so good for her.

(Side note on the age thing: I’m very excited to know that I can date all those hot middle-aged men when I’m 80. Cougaring FTW!)

When my aforementioned teenaged boys were young, they liked to watch iCarly. So I watched too. I thought Freddie Benson was adorable, but I did not want to sleep with him.

Now?

Hello, Freddie!

But no. Still not in the acceptable range. (Also, I’m married. Hi, Eddie!)

My point?

You can think someone is cute and not want to groom them for sex.

Just because a grown woman likes a boy band does not mean she is a pedophile.

I’m sorry if that’s hard for you to believe. And that, sadly, says more about your life.

I’m sorry my response upset you enough for you to block me. You didn’t need to worry, though: I had not planned on having any subsequent interaction with you.

May your future responses to @AITA_reddit bring you more peace, joy and solidarity than this one.

Sincerely,
@BethCon5

*I’m apparently a mean girl, so this works.

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Dear Dr. K,

Thank you for slicing open my son’s mouth and removing his wisdom teeth.

[Insert joke about a teenaged boy not having wisdom.]

I wish he could be smart enough to be a good patient. Sadly, he takes after his father there, not his rule-following, advice-following mother.

Put an ice pack on each side for 20 minutes the first day to reduce swelling?

No.

Take antibiotics three times a day?

Nope.

Brush teeth at least two times a day as usual?

Are you kidding? (Teenaged boys are gross.)

This is not the first time his teeth have caused me distress.

Luckily, I had the traditional loopy-after-surgery video to amuse me.

Note that he ASKED me to take this video so he could share it around.

Anyway, I’m sure he will be fine.

If not, we’ll be seeing you again very soon.

Best wishes,
Dominic’s mom/insurance holder/guarantor

 

 

 

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(Continued from Feb. 1 post)

So. The towing museum — er — International Towing and Recovery Hall of Fame and Museum. Let me resolve the cliffhanger.

I don’t know about you, but I never think about tow trucks until I need them, and I can count the number of times I have needed one on one hand.

But there are many, many people who do think about tow trucks on the reg. Enough that there is a thriving towing museum with promotion on the highway.

And when I say “thriving,” I’m not kidding.

When I checked in on Swarm, the tip that popped up made my eyes widen. I had to read it to Dominic.

High praise, indeed.

Also, Hall of Fame?!

Oh, wow.

We went in, alive with anticipation.

This is Dominic excited.

We paid the entrance fee** ($10, budget accordingly). The cashier said he had just started the movie (!). As it only lasts seven minutes, he told us to hang out in the gift shop, and he’d holler when he was about to start it again.

What a gift shop it was.

Only about half was tow-related merch.

A LIBRARY?!?

The rest featured Tennessee-made products. I bought hot sauce. (Sadly, it didn’t come in pocket size.)

And yes, I also bought a T-shirt. Because of course I did.

Dominic messed around with “Tater Tot.”

Then it was show time.

Did you know that the tow truck was born in Chattanooga? Neither did I.

In 1916, a mechanic named Ernest Holmes had the idea after he helped a friend get his car out of a creek bed. It took eight hours. Holmes modified a 1913 Cadillac with an elaborate crane and pulley system, then filed for a patent on the contraption in 1917.

Did you know that the fatality rate in the towing industry is more than 15 times the rate of deaths for other private industries combined? Neither did I.

But the towing museum has a Wall of the Fallen to help people remember.

Did you know that there’s a World’s Fastest Wrecker? Neither did I.

The Chevy tow truck set its speed record of 109.33 (average speed) at Talladega Motor Speedway in 1979. The truck’s tires actually started to melt during stock-car-driver Eddie Martin’s trial run.

After the movie was over, another museum guest said, “That was the BEST!”

Dominic and I looked at each other with surprised eyes above our masks.

The vintage trucks were actually very cool.

There was a whole wall of towing-themed toys.

We moved on to the Hall of Fame.

HALL OF FAME, y’all!

Apparently, these are people who “have made substantial contributions to the towing and recovery industry.”

Santa?!?

Olin looks as perplexed as we did.

After the Hall of Fame finale (coup de grâce?), we were fed back into the gift shop.

Me: Well. That was exciting.
Dominic: Never a dull moment.

No. Never dull indeed.

Happy recovery, and remember to slow down and move over!
Beth

*Apologies to Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam.

**Tickets are available in advance if you are worried about there being a rush. I did not buy tickets in advance because I thought it would be hilarious if it sold out for the day we went. This is how my mind works.

 

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Dear Parents of Teenagers,

Is it normal for them to want to spend time with you?

Dominic got jealous of my trips with Gideon, so he asked if we could go somewhere together.

My head immediately exploded.

I’m not complaining. I just don’t remember even wanting to admit I had parents, let alone be seen with them.

When I asked him where he wanted to go, he had no suggestions.

Me: I know you don’t want to go hiking in a state park like Gideon and I do.
Him: No.
Me: What about a city like Chicago or Philadelphia for the weekend?
Him: I have a gamer friend in Chicago.
Me: I’m not going to go all the way there and hang out with you and some gamer person you barely know.
Him: What about a road trip?
Me: Sure, but no more than four hours. I can’t do a car trip longer than that.
Him: I’ve got it!
Me: What?
Him: The towing museum!
Me: 💀

Back story:
When we all went to Chattanooga after Thanksgiving, we kept passing the International Towing Museum on our way to other, better known, sites such as Ruby Falls and Rock City. It became a joke:

One of us: Will we have time to go to the towing museum?
Another: After all, it’s the reason we are here isn’t it?

Like that. A joke. Because a TOWING MUSEUM?!

Dominic is CLEARLY my son, with a well-developed appreciation of the absurd.

So we went to Chattanooga last weekend.

I let him drive.

I let him pick a place to eat.

I let him pick the movie. (General Grievous is my favorite Star Wars character outside of the Han/Chewy duo [bromance].)

I let him sleep in.

I didn’t comment on the fact that he changed under the covers instead of in the bathroom like a normal person.

I did choose one activity: The incline railway. As many times as I’ve been to Chattanooga, I had never ridden it.

We were very interested in the Centennial Exhibits …

… until we realized it was just a few photographs along the hallway to the bathrooms.

After the railway, it was time for the main attraction: the towing museum.

The majestic quality of this museum necessitates its own post.

To be continued …

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Dear Family,

Thanks for one particular Christmas gift:

I’ve never had a Chia Pet (though I always wanted one).

I love that my first one is a Chia Child.

But actually, as we know, his name really is Grogu Craig.**

Despite the fact that I read and followed the instructions — and even bought a plant mister — I could not get the damn seeds to sprout and keep growing.

I tried and failed twice.

I was determined that the third time would be the charm, so I soaked Craig a little longer — much to your dismay.

Look. Listen. It had to be done.

And you know what? It worked.

I’m disappointed that the seeds I put on his head didn’t sprout.

So y’all can get off my back.

I did what needed to be done. If you don’t have the stomach for it, look away.

But seriously, thanks for the gift that keeps on giving.

Love,
The Gardener

*Remember this commercial?

**We thought it would be hilarious if the Star Wars folks would have named him a regular dude name like Kevin. Or Craig.

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Dear Tim Sweeney,

I know you don’t need my thanks — you’ve got $5.3 billion to give you comfort — but I do appreciate you. Without you, there would be no Fortnite. And without Fortnite, I wouldn’t have had this weekend’s bonding experience with Dominic.

Dominic had his friend Dylan over (COVID bubble FTW), and Gideon was at work. They were playing something together, but Dominic died in the game. Dylan was still going.

Dominic, emerging from his trash heap room: Do you want to play Fortnite?
Me: Me?
Him: Yes.
Me (shocked): Sure. Give me a few minutes.
Narrator: She did not want to play Fortnite, but knew she likely wouldn’t be asked again.

Let’s call this the fear of the Cat’s in the Cradle Phenomenon.

So he logged me into Gideon’s PS4.

Then he gave me Gideon’s headset and controller.

But that came with a warning:

Him: Don’t tell Gideon. He doesn’t like people touching his stuff.
Narrator: She told Gideon the second he got home. The response? “You played Fortnite without me?”

He showed me what all the buttons on the controller did.

Him: Push this one to jump.
Me: I won’t be jumping.
Him: OK. Just look and move and shoot.

He helped me set up my avatar. There is a mind-boggling array of choices. It took longer to choose my getup than it did to play the game.

Once that was done, we started the game. He took me to a quiet place so I wouldn’t get killed while I was learning how to play.

I managed to pick up some weapons, steal a truck, and fix my arm after a storm.

Dominic gave me his medical kit.

Awwwww.

During all this, I heard Dylan through Dominic’s headset:

Dylan: Is she any good?
Dominic: Yeah. She can run and follow directions.

Mostly, I followed Dominic. He was very patient. At one point, I said I liked the music that was playing.

Dominic: That’s not good music. That’s a bad sign. We need to get out of here.

The game didn’t last long. Someone sniped me while I was swimming across a lake.

Then it was time for Dylan to go home.

Dominic, coming in to shut off the game: That was good. You’re a lot better than our father.

That made me feel all warm inside.

(Sorry, Eddie.)

So thanks, Tim, for creating something that led to a a few lovely moments with my prickly teenager.

Sincerely,
Beth

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