Grab a cuppa, friends. I have spent all week preparing for today’s offerings and this week did not offer any shortage of experience that made me wonder “WTF?!” By now, I have so much material, that I have had to sift the wheat from the chaff of WTF-ery. There will, inevitably, be some left-overs for volume 9. During the course of collection, I resolved to buy several small composition books to put in my handbag and car because I realized that there truly is so much in the world that can elicit a genuine and heart-felt “WTF?!” Now come with me as I take you on a tour of WTF Friday: Volume 8.
1) I am going to begin this week with a rebirth of sorts. It was quite nearly my first experience of the world outside my home on Monday morning. As I mentioned in a previous post, I find solace and peace in listening to the radio in the morning as I make the 30-mile commute to and from dropping my son off at school. This Monday was certainly no different. But my poor, unassuming ears were immediately assaulted. (Can anyone guess what rebirth I am speaking of that would have come over the airways?)
It appears that Mr. Justin Timberlake (recently assuming the title of Mr. Jessica Beals) has decided that the 7-year hiatus he has taken from the music business must come to a screeching halt. I happen to somewhat like some of his music, so I was indifferent-to-intrigued about the new release. Boy, oh boy, was I wrong. The song, entitled “Suit & Tie” sort of made me want to crash my car into oncoming traffic in order to make it stop. My 2-year-old daughter must have caught on to my discomfort because she asked– as she usually does when a song catches her attention– who was singing it. I answered “Justin Timberlake, baby.” She asked me if that was the girl who sings for the Black-Eyed Peas (yes, really, she did. She really likes music, and she is fascinated with Fergie). I told her that it was a boy. She argued that Justine Timberlake was a girl, because he sounds like a girl, until we got home 20 minutes later.
My advice, for what it is worth: Let dying careers die in peace. Revival of the dead often results in the stench of decay and the losing of body parts. Check any zombie thriller, you’ll understand, JT. It didn’t even help that music-mogul Jay-Z was in on the song. I think you need to put a quarter in your arse, because you playin’ yo-self, fool. (Thanks to Impractical Jokers for the one-liner.) WTF, JT?
2) From JT and Jay-Z to Jay-Z and Jaybey (as in ‘baby’ with a ‘J’) we go. This week, Jay-Z and Beyonce’s daughter turned one year old. Blue Ivy was given a birthday party, not unlike most one-year-olds. However, the party she got was thoroughly unlike any party I have ever heard of. There were indications that the birthday party (which cost in excess of $200K) included an $80,000 diamond-and-gold encrusted Barbie doll for the birthday girl. I don’t know about the sense of that. I just bought my 2 year-old her first Barbie for Christmas. It cost $5, and I am constantly worried that she is going to lose one of the shoes or the necklace. Guests at the party were given party favors that totaled over $25,000 in value. Among the favors were: expensive jewelry, princess costumes, and playhouses. I don’t know how any of these guests’ parents will be able to top that. Best not even try; but if you do, don’t invite Jay-Z and Beyonce… you can’t match up.
After closing my agape jaw, I began to wonder how any parent can justify spending so much money on a first birthday! What are you going to do when she turns 16? What if you have other children at some point? Ri-dic-u-lous! I think if my daughter were ever invited to such a party, I would probably opt for the cash, rather than the prizes (like when you win The Price is Right and McDonald’s Monopoly). I can imagine it now: “You know, playhouses and princess costumes just aren’t our thing. She’s also allergic to precious metal. Can you just give me the cash? I’ll take a cashier’s check or money order. No. I don’t take personal checks.” I think I realize why I don’t have rich friends.
Spending an entire house worth of money on a one-year-old. WTF?
3) From Jaybey to my own babies. I’ve lamented plenty about the commute I have to endure every day in order to take my son to his private school. (If you know about the state of the public school system in California, you can probably understand why I switched him to private school.) I don’t mind the commute anymore. I am pleased with the education that my son is getting in school. It thrills me that he is taking 9 classes every week (Spanish, art, music, PE/Health, Science, Social Studies/Citizenship, Math, Reading, and Writing). We pay more for this school than any other school in the area because by the time we chose private over public, the other schools were full and/or had already started school. (Beggars can’t be choosers.)
One of the glorious amenities that the headmistress sold us on is the faux turf they recently installed on their sports field. She bragged that it cost the school $500K. Wowza! This should be NFL-quality turf, milady. It’s not much to look at surrounded by aluminum collapsible benches and absent goal posts of any variety and scoreboards, but it’s new and it’s expensive, and that makes it amazing. And elite. They baby this field like no one’s business. If it rains, they lock the gates and refuse access (but they let the kids play football on it last Saturday morning when it was covered with a thin sheet of ice). It’s kind of weird.
My son plays flag football for his school. Every Tuesday and Thursday he has 2 hours of practice after school. Well, last night, I picked him up from practice, and he was covered in little green hair-like fibers. Apparently, the field is shedding. When we got home, he got out of the car and I noticed that his carseat was covered in the fibers, as was the carpet, the back of my seat, the ceiling, his little sister…. I forced him to strip to nothing in the laundry room and put his football gear directly in the washing machine, then run upstairs to the bath because even without his clothing, he looked like a green Sasquatch. I thought that washing it off would work. No, no, no. This is like an intelligent alien symbiote. It is impregnable, impermeable, water-resistant, and static. It sticks to everything I don’t want it to, and nothing that I want it to. It is resistant to sticky-rollers, sweater brushes, dryer sheets, water, duct tape, and vacuum cleaners. It sticks to my son’s acrylic sweater (spent an hour picking it off piece by 3/4-inch piece), his polyester football uniform, my cashmere sweater, my wool coat, socks, shoe laces, leather, and suede.
I think that someone totally got duped into spending $500K on this menace to sports. I am sure I am not the only parent who is considering getting a court-order to keep my kid off that damned turf. Honestly, I would rather deal with dirt and grass stains. WTF?
4) On our commute, we often pass pan-handlers at intersections. Normally, I subscribe to the idea that I will not pay for a vagrant’s alcohol… but on this occasion, I had an ‘ah-ha’ moment. When I have had a hard day, what do I want? I want a mother-grabbin’ drink! These folks lead infinitely harder lives than I do, so isn’t it merciful for me to give them a stress-releasing drink? (Disclaimer: I am not, not, not condoning alcoholism or deeper problems. I am not making a political statement. I am trying to be funny.)
Aside: I will take a moment, in my own defense, to tell you that my husband and I once passed a pan-handler on the sidewalk in the meat-packing district and my husband decided to strike up a conversation. He asked the guy what he’d buy if he got money. The man said food. My husband asked what he would buy, specifically. The man said pizza. My husband went to the pizza shop and bought him a large pizza, which the guy shared with his vagrant comrades. See? I am not a total idiot about these things.
So this thought process developed into a deeper musing: What is the difference between giving money to an emotionally, socially and financially bankrupt pan-handler who may spend the money on cheap wine (or may buy a filling meal) and donating money to a morally-bankrupt but financially abundant politician who may spend the money asking for more money, or may spend the money getting other rich people drunk on expensive wine, or may spend the money feeding fat, well-fed rich people caviar en brioche? Hmmm? WTF?!
5) Our journey today continues and concludes on the note of morally bankrupt people. While listening to my favorite morning radio show, a very interesting topic came up. One of the techies for the show had signed up for a website dedicated to married people who wanted to find someone to cheat on their spouse with. (I know, I want to say it right this very minute, but I have to wait to the end, as per tradition.) The guy who signed up is a single guy, 36 years old, and his argument is that he isn’t the one in the wrong– it’s the cheater who is wrong, that there was a problem before he came on the scene, that he wants a woman who has no strings, no emotional baggage, and no need for commitment from him. My advice for this guy is as follows:
If you are looking for someone to have a relationship with (even if it’s just sex), you are looking in the wrong place. There are plenty of unencumbered women out there who want nothing more than a buddy for bedtime. If you are pining after a woman who is married and, therefore, not a risk, you are in for a disaster with this website. Coming from one perspective, you are right in your assimilation that there were problems in the marriage before you ever entered the scene. If she is looking for another man online, clearly this has nothing to do with you. Are you to blame for the marriage problems? Absolutely not. However… you are responsible for taking advantage of a bad situation. There are so many issues that will come about because of the role you are choosing to take in the problems that already exist, and as long as you can hold out this belief that it isn’t your fault, at some point, you will be to blame for not walking away when you knew there was a problem. In addition to that, you need to know that any woman who is willing to cheat on her husband has some serious issues. Women are difficult at the best of times, and a woman who is a cheater has even worse problems.
Now, I am not one to pass judgment on another person’s life. Although I have a tendency to give out unsolicited suggestions and advice, I do not do so if I don’t have some experience to draw from. But in the end, what could possibly be the good that comes from a site like this? Note: it is not a swingers site, from what I gathered from the conversation on the radio; it is intended for people who want to cheat behind their spouse’s back. Ugh. WTF?
That’s it for this week, folks. I hope you enjoyed your ride. Don’t forget to tip your driver! Send a friend over and perhaps there will be something in it for you next week… maybe?
If you see something this week that makes you think (or actually say) ”WTF?!” let me know.
I will scream it from the mountain tops in my installment next week,
and I will send my 9 readers to your blog.
For more WTF-ery, check out: