Sundays with Stretchy Pants

I want to blog about this so badly even though, on the face of it, it seems irrelevant to my life. When I read it, though, I found myself really identifying with the issue of dealing with curmudgeons because I feel that it is so similar to something a lot of moms experience. There is a definite hierarchy of parenting styles ranging from anti-technology to very pro-technology. Not that I care, I’m just saying. I don’t care, because I’m very pro-technology. The only parents who really care and get all desperate about it are in the anti- camp because they think we’re going to be impressed or something. Nobody cares. We just feel sorry for their kids because they’re irrelevant in their culture.

It is 2008. It is the information age and, frankly, there’s no going back. There’s not going to be an anti-information movement that will take away our internet tubes. Children who grow up now are tech-savvy. And there is nothing wrong with that. I don’t get overtly criticized (to my face, anyway) for the fact that my kids blog and they make youtube videos, but I know that some people think they’re better mothers than me and my friends because they withhold technology while we dole it out freely like so many little Ritalin pills. These are the people who would hear my kids say something about some tv show or video game or website and they would make a judgement right then and there that our family is less, well, wholesome? or whatever and then they would avoid us. Except, not really. They wouldn’t avoid us because then how would they get off on saying, “Spongebob? Never heard of it; we only watch PBS.” And then I would have to bitch about how annoying that little Canadian fucker Caillou is. I mean, my god, that kid’s voice makes me want to shoot up the joint and then declare war on Canada. It’s almost embarrassing how much I hate that kid.

Anyway, I don’t really have time to flesh this out into a real, thought-provoking post with, like, stuff to back up my opinions and whatnot, but I’m just trying to say that our children’s culture is important and should be respected. Can you imagine being the only kid in class who didn’t know how to rat your bangs so they would stick way the hell up? That was our culture and I’m glad I didn’t miss it.

Here’s a really good reason to start eating at McDonald’s again: They’re being boycotted by the American Family Association because they are committed to the gay and lesbian community. I wonder if they made it official with a commitment ceremony, or if they’re just going around wearing wedding bands? Here’s a link to Wonkette’s commentary on the boycott, complete with the best ever comments. Don’t worry, there’s a link to the actual boycott site on the Wonkette page, but I’m not linking to the boycott because you never know who’s reading my blog and I would hate for someone to click over to the boycott page and actually sign the petition without first reading about how retarded they are for signing the petition.

Disclaimer: I don’t skip McDonald’s because of any philosophical beliefs about the way they treat their meat animals, or because of any health risks that eating there might cause. No, if I still lived in Chesaning, I would still be eating McNuggets. The only reason I don’t eat there anymore is because, why would choose their fast food if I could get fast food at Panera or Chipotle? That would be crazy!

I can’t describe the strong reaction that I had upon reading this headline: Belgian Brewer InBev to Buy Anheuser-Busch for$52B

No! I just heard on NPR that AB was all, “You’re mean! We don’t need your money! And, hello? Cuba? Please,” and that was very comforting to somebody who grew up on Busch Light (after graduating from wine coolers and Boone’s Farm, of course). When I moved on from the watery taste of Busch Light, it was the watery taste of Bud Light that I loved. I felt more sophisticated. Bud Light was a grown-up beer. On special occasions, such as 8th grade graduation, I bought it in bottles instead of cans. In college I experimented a little bit with Bud Ice Light and Zima, but everybody experiments in college and nobody should be judged for that. When I moved to Arizona at 19 and my brother sneered over my shoulder every time I ordered my tried-and-true favorite, I branched out a little bit and started enjoying Bass Ale, which is an import, but it’s distributed by Anheuser-Busch, so it was ok.

Even though nowadays I don’t really stick with the AB brand all that much, it’s still a piece of my childhood. I don’t buy Fun Dip anymore, either, but it still holds a special place in my heart and I would prefer that it was still called Lik-m-ade like it was when I was young. And you know how at the end of the Bud commercials, the deep-voiced announcer says, “Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri”? That just feels like home to me. If he starts saying, “Anheuser-Busch InBev, St. Louis, Missouri, Belgium, Cuba,” that just won’t feel right.

I missed you the most, Google Reader.

I don’t like my inbox to be full and I don’t like my Google Reader to tell me I have more than, like, five new blog posts to read so when I opened up the reader this morning and it told me there were 347 new items to read, I had a mild panic attack and then I hit “mark all as read” with enough force to shatter my mouse. So if somebody blogged about something super important, let me know because I so hate to be out of the loop. What if Dawn fell in a well or something? It would suck if I called over there and was all, “Hey, Brett, Lemme talk to Dawn; I missed that bitch!” and Brett burst into tears. Awkward.

We got back home last night and I’ve been grocery shopping, laundering, yoga-ing and just generally freshening since then. I suppose I eventually have to pick the hamster up from Kristen’s house. Maybe. We’ll see.

Chesaning was lovely. I make fun of it a lot, but there’s really nothing like feeling like you have two homes. My nephew’s party was tons of fun and look at these awesome centerpieces:

And look what my nephew made:

Yeah, he made that. Cool.

My sister’s youngest daughter is staying with us for a little bit so I have to go pretend like it’s fun around here so she doesn’t get homesick. More catching up later.

I wrote about this before, but it still annoys me. The AP is again talking about the fact the people like to complain about the book And Tango Makes Three. Ignorance annoys me. And ignorance for the sake of the children annoys me with the power of a thousand suns. The parents who complain about this kind of book are the same type of parents who can’t bring themselves to talk about s3x* with their children, or even call their body parts by the appropriate names, instead giving them nicknames like woo woo or whatzit. Ridiculous. If you can’t say the word p3nis* to your son, good luck. Good effing luck with your head in the sand. That’s the kind of thing that puts the subject of reproduction (or *gasp* intercourse for purposes other than reproducing!) on a very high shelf, which makes it more intriguing and more attractive and then the kids find out about an awesome book like It’s So Amazing and find themselves feeling ashamed, but titillated. That is not a healthy combination. Pretty soon, because they got a taste of this forbidden subject, they’re desperate for more and since they can’t get their curiosity satisfied in a healthy way, by asking their parents about it and being provided with good age-appropriate books on the subject, that’s where p0rn from the neighbor or the dad’s stash comes in really handy (because, mark my words, the households who protest so much are the households where the dad definitely has a stash that his wife probably doesn’t even know about). And it’s not a good idea to learn about the birds and the bees from materials that are not age-appropriate and do not treat s3x as the important thing that it is. Can you say, deviant behavior?

S3x is a normal part of life and should be discussed as such with people. Children are people, just in case you didn’t know. And they have reproductive organs, even if you don’t want to believe it. Homosexuality is a normal part of life for some people and if kids were allowed to learn about it, they might feel they could come out with dignity and love, or if they’re not gay, they would be able to give their gay friends dignity and love when they come out, then we’d have less Ted Haggard situations in the world. Yeah, heaven forbid your child should be allowed to feel that his homosexual feelings are ok. It’s better if he tries to deny them and gets married and has 5 kids only to be living on the down low and blowing apart his life and his wife and kids’ lives in the process. Messy. But at least you didn’t have to explain homosexuality to a child. Horrors.

*Because there is so much deviant behavior in the world, caused by stoopid parents who won’t provide their children with non-judgemental information about one of the most normal things in life, I have to type those kinds of words like that so the deviants who google certain things don’t stumble upon my site. Stop being stoopid. And buy some books for your kids. Then let them read them whenever they want so it takes the mystery away and it becomes no big deal instead of this thing to simultaneously covet and feel ashamed about. You can start by calling their parts by the right names because if you can say those words, it’s much easier to say all of the other things you need to say over the course of a lifetime of parenting.