In Response to "A Short Play Concerning Motherhood, Woes and WebMD"

As proof that I'm not the lone craze in this tangeld web of friendship, I offer the following story:


About six months ago I was a [relatively] normal and would make [slightly] rational decisions. That all changed the day that Lady Bea called me up using her hyper-excited voice and told me to turn on "Criminal Minds" a show that I don't usually watch. Despite my groanings that the only TV I watch is stupid comedies, I was convinced to turn it on with promises of "Jaaaammmeessss Vaaaannn Der Beeeeeeek" - done; I started to watch.

The episode (well, episodes because it was a two-parter) was about a computer tech (James VanDerBeek) who would help people with computer issues and then start watching them via their webcam and, of course, go and murder them when they did something "ungodly".

Flashforward about four months to me sending help-request emails to the makers of LeapFrog because Glow Bug's Leapster 2 isn't working. It took about a week, but the helpdesk discovered that the toy had a defective part. It was at this point that I received this email:

Ms. Dennis:

In response to your problem, our analysis confirms that the SD card on your Leapster2 is not formatted correctly. Please provide your mailing address and a replacement will be shipped to you immediately.

Beau was excited: what great customer service! They identified the problem and were willing to fix it for free. I, however, had the realization that this was a bit too much like a certain episdode of Criminal Minds and therefore had a much different reaction.

Beau: Well, that's pretty cool. Now we don't have to buy anything.

ME: Yeah, but....they want our home address.

Beau: Yeah, that's generally how how the postal service works.

ME: But...

Beau: But what?

ME: What if this is some sort of creep who's going to take our addess and then stalk and kill us?

Beau: ...

ME: Omigod, we have a webcam! BEAU!! (at this point I disappear to the tool closet to get electric tape)

Beau: Babe, what the hell are you doing?

ME: Covering up the webcam lens!! Oh my God! He could be watching us right now!!

Beau (mutes the TV and turns to face me): Seriously?

ME: Look, Bea and I watched this show...

Beau: Oh, here it comes...

ME: ...and this computer help desk guy would get customer's information and then KILL THEM

Beau: Oh that's realistic

ME: It was!!!! I'm putting down your mother's address.

Beau: No you're not. Put down ours, but use my name rather than yours. Did the boogie man on TV kill men, too?

ME: I don't remember. Probably. Did I mention that this killer was played by Dawson?

Beau: ....

ME: James VanDerBeek!!

Beau: Yeah, I got that. I'm just waiting for you to hear yourself.



Long story short (too late!) I used Beau's name and in 7-10 business days the package came. The killer, however, did not. Yet.

Mtv Movie Awards....or God I'm Old...or Twilight Fandom Part Two

I stayed in last night (I'll wait while your surprise wears off) and watched the last half hour of the Mtv Movie Awards. I used to live for this show, but as I watched this year I found myself confused and realized that I just don't get it. I don't get the cool 'inside jokes' featured. OK, Sacha Baron Cohen dropping out of the sky and landing on Emenim was hilarious, Forrest Whittaker singing "Dick in Box" like "La Bohem" was very original, and the girls from My Sister's Keeper referring to Cameron Diaz's work as "Adult Films" made me chuckle (PS...wasn't there some controversy a few years back because Diaz WAS in an adult film? I know I'm not making that up). But the musical acts were good, but I'm not all to familiar with them, and the quips that the stars shared with each other and their fans I didn't get.

When did I get so old? I remember rolling my eyes when my mom didn't get Fartman, or when Jim Carrey donned a ZZ Top-esque wig and beard and announced that there needed to be more Foghat. It made me a little sad. I liked Twilight (kinda), so I was excited by the premiere of the New Moon preview, and I *heart* Andy Samburg, so his little digital spoofs made me happy. But I don't get the Miley Cyrus thing, or the High School Musical thing. I don't think I ever will. I thought that just meant that I had taste, but it's an apparent sign that I'm getting older.

I got a little teary when Denzel Washington came out with his daughter to announce an award because his costar (my beloved, John) just couldn't do it. I was more upset by his absence than whoever won that award. I'm definitely loosing touch with the cool side of me.

I guess I could always don my emo-goth look and go with Bea to a My Chemical Romance concert to get in touch with my youth, but like I said "I have taste" and I'm fairly certain that concert would do more to throw me back to my rock 'n roll and 80's ballads more than anything else. Any ideas?

A Brief Snippet of A Phone Conversation Betwixt Mame and Bea

Mame: ...blah blah blah Kurt Cobain...

Bea: What? From Growing Pains? Why are you talking about him? Have you been watching his scary televangelist show again? 'Cause I've told you...

Mame: BEA. I SAID, "KURT COBAIN." FROM NIRVANA. AS IN, "SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT." ARE YOU HIGH?

Bea: ...no? I don't know what's wrong with me! My brain just jumped right to Kirk Cameron!

Mame: The first name isn't even the same!

Bea: Yeah...I...don't know.

Mame: [judgmental sigh]

Clearly, I'm an idiot.

OOOLLLLDDDD!!!

Today I have realized just how old I really am. I probably should have realized this a myriad of times before (like when I graduated college, got married, or had a baby, but whatever); however, I am realizing it hard now.
As I’ve mentioned before, I am a teacher. I relate my students to caged doves on top of a ghetto rooftop and it’s my job to release them (well, my job or Samuel L. Jackson’s, whoever gets to them first). All in all, they are sweet kids who have had a rough start in life. They are adorable, silly, quick-tempered, and, in fact, do not know better. They spend ninety minutes a day with me from August to May so around this time of year the anger I had at their sometimes-intolerable immaturity has all but melted away. I am currently updating their personnel files and I’ve realized that they were born in…1991.
1991!! That was the year I discovered grunge rock, flannel shirts, and the one and only love of my preteen life, Jonathan Brandis. The same year that my now sixteen-year-old students were arriving on this earth, I was taking down my NKOTB posters and cutting up Teen Beat magazines. SIXTEEN YEARS!!!! I still remember every word to Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” and Jonathan Brandis’s famed movie, Lady Bugs. Now, Jonathan Brandis has long since passed away (Bea and I cross ourselves), Pearl Jam hasn’t released a decent album since Viatology, and Teen Beat is now covered with pictures of Nick Lachey and the like. What on earth has happened to my world?