Me and the snow are fighting
I got stuck in my driveway again--twice. The most recent time was after I spent an hour on Sunday morning shoveling our (no lie) 900 square feet of driveway. That was extra fun, me spinning out on what was barely even any snow at all. I'd better have some wicked arms come Hawaii.
So. Next year for Christmas I'm asking for snow tires. Or maybe bus or tractor tires.
Today's note on why the world is sometimes a wrong sort of place:
There are these cute tiny little white boys who keep coming in to use the Internet. I showed them how to use Google Image Search, which they now use to look up and print out pictures of rappers. Two days in a row they asked me to spell Eminem. They are also quite excited when they find pictures of 50 Cent posing with guns. These kids can't be more than 8 or 9.
Didn't understand quite where the fascination with rap music came from until their dad came in to pick them up one day. At which point it all became very, very depressingly clear.
I'm Steph, a librarian and mom of 3 (not sure how that happened). Let's chat books, food, Sumptuous Literary Adaptations, poop, knitting and maybe some crazy Mormon Feminism.
12 comments:
I worked at a daycare for 7 or 8 months, and sometimes I'd wonder about the kids, and where they got some of their ideas. Or at least, I would until their parents would come. It was sometimes very, very hard to be there and see that.
Sometimes trashy guys with their baby mamas and kids will stroll through my department, and I think how depressing it is that people like that are raising children. And, despite the fact that I am a college-educated professional, how hot I think some of those guys are.
I weep for the future...
Oh, how I shudder at the thought that these kids are growing up semi-alongside my kids.
Maybe you should learn how to drive. Heh.
I pretty much taught school to street kids when we lived in Houston. I had kids that were so rotten, but after one call home, never again. Why? As you are talking to one parent, the other parent (or step-parent of boyfriend) would start screaming in the background just before the beating.
I had a friend who taught there and called Dad on some pornographic magazines and pictures hidden in his binder. Turns out dad owned a strip club. (If you've ever been to Houston, you realize that owning a strip club doesn't really make you unique.) Dad shrugged this off as a boys will be boys situation.
Yah, with all the things out there to aspire to, why is a thug attractive to people?
And the snow - ugh.
A pervasive social problem we face is that of "children" raising children. By that I mean biological adults who should be acting like grown-ups, i.e. paving the way for the younger generation with their mature example, but who have abdicated that responsibility in favor of being poster-people for the Society for the Prevention of Arrested Development. You’ve seen them—fathers wearing backward baseball caps over their jello- colored hair, with a five-day’s beard growth and an earring in each ear, and looking like they just rolled out of bed; mothers who have never met a comb or mirror who insist on sporting a bare-midriff of flab that drapes over their skin-tight low-rise torn tattered jeans. These parents, and even others not as immature but wanting to be ‘friends’ with their children, welcome and encourage the inundation of the worst of what pop culture has to offer into their lives, their homes, and by association, into their children’s world. How else could you explain the first grader sporting a pierced ear, or the over-sexualized seven-year-old girl who still plays with dolls but dresses like a hooker? The implications for our world as this young generation grows is scary.
My dad gave my mom snow tires as an anniversary gift one year. What a romantic.
Wow, your driveway is bigger than my condo (which is 800 square feet). How about a plow? Or some hot butler whose only wish is to shovel your driveway and watch anything you want on TV?
The above comment was from Maggie the Second, by the way. :)
I used to direct the youth program at a homeless shelter in Utah. I regularly conducted interviews with the kids, and one time I decide to ask about heros. Almost all the kids responded, "My hero is Usher."
"Why does everyone love Usher so much?!" I asked one girl (she was about 10).
"Well, Usher is so hot, you could melt butter on his body," she replied.
Now that's hot.
So, Nemesis, was the kids' dad Eminem or something?
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