Writing Prompt: A Running Joke

Today on my way home from work I saw a middle aged man in a suit, tie and dress shoes who was full-on sprinting down the sidewalk along Cascade Avenue. 

He looked like a Dennis. 

So far I've come up with three possible scenarios that could have led up to this point:

ONE: Dennis has always been a workaholic which has put a significant strain on his family relationships, particularly with his son Drake, who resents the fact that his dad has never made it to a single one of his basketball games. Dennis planned to turn things around tonight by showing up at the championship game with a big poster board sign with Drake's name and number on it.  He left work early so that he could pick up a box of Sharpies, but on the way to the office supply store he was hit head-on by another driver who had lost control of her vehicle. Dennis managed to pull the unconscious woman from the mangled hunk of steel just before it burst into flames. After waiting for what seemed like hours for emergency medical services to arrive, he is now racing to try to make it to the game before the final buzzer. All hope of reconciliation hangs in the balance. 

TWO: In a classic case of mistaken identity, Dennis has been confused with an international super spy who was recently exposed as a double agent and is now on the run from a particularly surly Latvian mafioso. What Dennis doesn't know is that the murderous Vilhelms realized his mistake six blocks ago and decided to stop for a meatball sub instead of continuing to pursue him. 

This storyline could also dovetail nicely with scenario #1. 

THREE: Dennis is a running enthusiast who is training for the BriefChase, a themed half marathon in which all participants must dress in business professional attire. In preparation for the race, Dennis has decided to test out a different suit each day in the hope of finding the perfect combination of mobility and style. 

Given the city I live in, my money's on #3. 

If anyone has a more probable explanation, I'm all ears.  

But I Gotta Keep an Eye Out for Selener

I will start by saying, for your reference, that despite an extensive musical education and the fact that I should absolutely know better, I am a slave to pop music. I have some very talented musician friends who care about things like artistic integrity and are probably going to disown me after reading this. I am also married to a man who is unable to ignore lyrics for the sake of a catchy beat, but lucky for me he made a promise in front of God and all our friends and family to love me in sickness, health and poor taste. Am I aware that I'm ten to fifteen years older than the target demographic for this genre of music? Yes. Thanks for pointing that out. Am I offended by many of the lyrics as a woman and human being? Yes. In fact I went so far as to start a Twitter account specifically to shed light on the overtly sexist messages we consume on a daily basis through pop music, but as it turns out I don't have the energy to be an outspoken feminist and I lost steam after like two posts. (Okay but Bruno Mars' lyrics in 24K Magic - Why you mad /Fix your face /Ain't my fault they all be jockin' COME ON PEOPLE WE CAN DO BETTER.)

That being said, let's talk about Selena Gomez. Clearly, she is a beautiful young woman. I find her quite funny in interviews and the couple of movies I've seen her in. She seems like a lovely person.

But a great singer she is not. 

The fact that someone with a just-okayish voice could have a lucrative music career is fascinating to me. Think about the thousands of people who try out for the singing competition shows every year. So many super talented singers don't even make it past the first round of interns, much less to the judges. 

(This is mostly conjecture since I haven't actually been able to bring myself to watch one of these shows since the first season of American Idol. Watching people embarrass themselves on national television actually causes me physical discomfort -- which is also why I can't watch America's Funniest Home Videos. I mean, no judgment - if watching a bunch of dads getting repeatedly kicked in the nuts is your thing, by all means, do you.)

My point is, there is no shortage of vocal talent in this country, but everyone knows it's practically impossible to make a successful career out of it. 

Unless you're Selena Gomez. Just getting paid an exorbitant amount of money to barely carry a tune.

This is how I imagine it happened:

Producer #1: "I got a new hit pop song but we need a singer."

Producer #2: "How about Selena Gomez?"

Producer #1: "I don't know - she doesn't have a very good voice."

Producer #2: "I don't care - I literally just need a human female voice. By the time production is finished it will all sound like beeps and boops anyway. Plus she used to date Justin Bieber and she's best friends with Taylor Swift."

Producer #1: "Donezo. Waiter? More caviar."

While we're on the subject, take Taylor Swift: decent voice - not my favorite. BUT she writes her own songs and her music is catchy AF. Totally get the appeal. 

Then there are the likes of Adele and Beyoncé whose voices are so amazing I don't care whether or not they write their own songs. I don't care if they can write their own names. You say this entire album is just 57 straight minutes of you blowing your nose on loop? YES OF COURSE I WILL TAKE FIFTEEN COPIES AT FULL PRICE. 

Is anyone else tracking with me? Am I alone down here in this rabbit hole? 

Selena, if you're reading this, I hope there are no hard feelings since you're reportedly worth $45 million and I can't afford to buy Honeycrisp apples but could you just call me real quick and explain how you did it? 'Cause sometimes I think it would be cool to be a scientist - and by "be a scientist" I really mean I just want to pour brightly colored liquids from one interestingly shaped beaker into another and maybe mix a couple of them together so that they create a different, but equally bright color - but I barely passed chemistry in college and I remember zero percent of what I learned. So I was just wondering if there's a way around that. 

K thanks girrrrl. TTYL.

I...I...I Work Out

Ever since I had kids I have struggled to find a good time to work out.* I know the logical thing to do would be to get up earlier but I'm not a morning person and if you are one of those please don't talk to me.

Just kidding. But seriously.

Besides, my kids are freakishly early risers as it is. We had to get one of those okay-to-wake clocks to convince our three year old to stay in bed longer. She wakes up around 5 and then just lies there staring at it until exactly 6:30 when the light comes on, compelling her to begin yelling as loudly as her little lungs will allow, "MOMMYDADDY MY LIGHT TURNED GREEEEEEEEEEEEEN MOMMYDADDY IT'S GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN MOMMYDADDY -"

"CAROLINA FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY JUST GET UP YOU DON'T HAVE TO ASK US AND IF YOU WAKE YOUR SISTER UP SO HELP ME -"

(Don't you wish we would adopt you?)

So I'm afraid if I tried to get up earlier they would know. 

They always know. 

The nice thing is that they're getting to an age at which they follow directions well enough that we're starting to be able to do a lot more stuff with them so I thought, you know what? I'll do a workout video after dinner and they can just do it with me! They'll love it! In fact, by creating positive memories of exercising with their mom I will surely be steering them down the path to lifelong health! I AM SUCH A GOOD PARENT!

Of course after trying it I now know that what will actually happen any time they consider working out is that they'll be bombarded with images of the heartless monster in a sweaty topknot who refused to pick them up for 28 whole minutes in a row even though they made their most pathetic HOW COULD YOU DO THIS I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME face and screamed until their heads looked like giant roasted beets.

Mmm beets...a little goat cheese, some pistachios, a little vinaigrette action...ya feel me?

Back to my point...my expectations may have been a hair short of realistic. Guess I can't work out ever okay bye.


* I didn't work out before I had kids either...I slept. MAN I miss that.

Mama Bear

You may or may not know that of the nine personality types on the Enneagram* I am a 9, which is what they call The Peacemaker.

Here's a little excerpt from the type description:

Nines essentially feel a need for peace and harmony. They tend to avoid conflict at all costs, whether it be internal or interpersonal.

Makes me sound like a real hippie. Except when it comes to people messing with my kids...I'm less like a peacemaker and more like a BLOODTHIRSTY WARLORD. Or as the good people of the Enneagram might call it, an eight. Ba-dum CHING! #enneagramjokes (Probably three people will find this funny AND I AM ONE OF THEM.)

Carolina has a "friend" at daycare...we'll call her Brittany. Every day when we ask her what happened at school, she says "Brittany told me she's not my friend anymore" or "Brittany pushed me" or "Brittany told me to shut up".

I have tried countless times to give this kid the benefit of the doubt. Every day I ask,"Did she say she was sorry?" and every day Carolina says no.

It honestly takes everything in me not to reply with "WELL BRITTANY SOUNDS LIKE A LITTLE B#@%!" (at least to Carolina - I say this to Gary pretty much daily). But like any okay parent, I usually remind her that we don't treat people that way even if they are mean to us, or tell her to talk to her teacher (because we are not above raising a house full of narcs) or nonchalantly ask if there are any other kids at school she could play with other than Brittany. I'm begging you. ANYONE IN THE WORLD BUT BRITTANY. What about that little girl who eats bandaids? Seems like an agreeable alternative to Brittany.

Nobody warned me we'd be dealing with bullying at three years old. YOU GUYS REALLY DROPPED THE BALL ON THAT ONE. I'm kidding. Sort of. I mean I knew this stuff was coming but I wasn't prepared to have to deal with it so early.

I'm sure by now you've all guessed where this is going - we are of course pulling her out of this daycare immediately. I figure any time a kid starts giving her trouble we'll just move her to a different school. You know what they say: if you run away from your problems fast enough, they will never, ever catch up with you and you'll be happy forever.

THE END

*If you've never heard of or taken the Enneagram you should click here and do it so we can talk about it because it is FASCINATING. OOH AND THEN LISTEN TO THIS PODCAST. 

The Songs of My Youth

I'm turning 31 next week.

It's bothering me more than I thought it would. I thought 30 was supposed to be the hard one, but at least people make a big deal out of it. Goodbye twenties! Let's go out with a bang! SOMEBODY BUY ME TEN DRINKS!

31 is just like welp...here comes 40. Better invest in a comfortable robe and get on with it. 

ANYWAY to get my mind off my own mortality, I made some playlists and I brought enough to share!

THIS ONE has a 90's alternative slash Lilith fair vibe. Strongest memory: When I Come Around by Green Day playing in my mom's turquoise Ford Aerostar on the way home from purchasing a new set of pogs.

THIS ONE is 90s pop/hip hop/R&B. I'm not gonna lie to you guys; there is A LOT of Mariah Carey on it. I will not apologize. And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say that the whole New Year's Eve thing was not her fault. What was she supposed to do? Sing anyway with no idea what key she was in? (Clearly she needs someone like me to stick up for her.) I GOT YOU MARIAH. THEY SET YOU UP GIRL. YOU DO DESERVE A HOLIDAY.

Blogue One

Hieeeeeeeee

You might not remember me...I used to have a blog and then I had children.

I mean I still have them but they have reached the age at which they sometimes play with each other for five whole minutes in a row, which allows me time to do things like dishes and laundry.

JUST KIDDING I'M GONNA USE THE TIME TO CREATE INTERNET TRASH!

Sometimes as I'm scrolling through Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter and Pinterest I just think to myself MAN, there is just NOT ENOUGH CONTENT. Like what are people even supposed to do online anymore?

Fear not. I am here to fill the gaping void with something totally meaningful.

Or maybe just like 10,000 bitmojis of myself. Stay tuned.

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