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- Beef + flame = BBQ.
- Beef + flame + lots of beer = 2nd degree burns and a clip for “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
- A grill is the second best way to cook asparagus. But a blast furnace is the best way because it completely incinerates those terrible little stalks.
- Don’t wear a “Kiss the cook” apron while you BBQ unless you want a drunken friend or neighbor to try to.
- If a cup of hot coffee has to carry a warning label, why doesn’t a grill? And since it doesn’t, how long before somebody files a class action lawsuit claiming they were burned because they didn’t realize grills get so hot?
- Not everything can be grilled — like pasta, for example. And although this may seem obvious, to 4-year-olds and drunken neighbors it’s not.
- If a dog is man’s best friend, a grill runs a close second.
- There is a difference between well-done and burnt, but only to people who like their steaks well-done. To everyone else — especially lovers of blood and pink — they are both the same: a waste of a perfectly good cut of meat.
- If you’re cooking with gas, it’s important to the light the grill immediately after turning on the gas instead of running inside to get another drink first.
- It’s also important not to use lighter fluid.
- Anyone who says “everything tastes better when it’s grilled” clearly hasn’t eaten at my neighbors.
- Men like to BBQ for the same reason they like to see stuff blow up.
- There should be a mathematical formula for calculating the increase in LDL given a steak’s price per pound so that anyone with high cholesterol can ignore their doctor’s advice in an informed manner.
- George Stephen, creator of the Weber Grill, should be sainted.
- If there is ever another Civil War, it will most likely have something to do with Texas, Alabama and Missouri claiming to have the best BBQ in the America, and all the other states either taking sides or taking offense, except for Wisconsin, which will remain neutral because they have fish boils instead of BBQ.
KID: Mother’s Day is coming up.
MOM: I know.
KID: Do you want us to get you anything?
MOM: Only if you want to.
KID: Or course we want to, we just don’t know what you want.
MOM: Surprise me.
KID: With what?
MOM: With something I’d like.
KID: A present?
MOM: Sure.
KID: But what kind of present?
MOM: How can you spend so much time with me and not know a single thing I like? Just think about what I do every day.
KID: Okay.
MOM: Does that give you any ideas?
KID: It does — we could get you some plastic bags.
MOM: Plastic Bags?
KID: For making our lunches.
MOM: No.
KID: Okay, what about some dish towels?
MOM: No.
KID: Pencils you could use to help us with homework?
MOM: No.
KID: A mop?
MOM: No.
KID: You already have an SUV you like to drive us around in. How about one of those cool toilet bowl cleaners I saw on TV?
MOM: No.
KID: New laundry basket?
MOM: Do you think I do all those things because I like to?
KID: Why else would you do them?
MOM: Because I’m a mom and that’s what mom’s do: stuff they don’t like doing, but needs to be done.
KID: Oh.
MOM: Yeah, “Oh.”
KID: If that’s the case, then I know exactly what you’d like for Mother’s Day.
MOM: What’s that?
KID: To be like Dad: ‘cause there’s lots of stuff he needs to do, but usually he just watches ESPN instead.
Editor’s Note: While not entirely true, there’s no doubt the sentiment expressed above often feels true.
For a lot of parents, Earth Day is a time to feel guilt and shame for driving an SUV and having too many flat-screen TVs. For kids, it’s a time to learn that the psychological problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and treat them are nothing compared to the environmental problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and dad treat the planet.
(Assuming, of course, life is still around later.)
KID: Thanks for ruining the earth.
PARENT: It’s not my fault. Blame grandma and grandpa, too — they started it.
The good news is that thanks to most Americans grudging acceptance of climate change, a renewed government-focus on conserving natural resources and developing alternate energy sources, and the fact that it’s cool to drive a Prius, there’s hope for the future.
The bad news is that kids are still kids, which means they can turn just about anything to their advantage, especially environmental tips they come home and claim to have been taught in school:
PARENT: How was school today?
KID: We learned how to help the planet for Earth Day.
PARENT: Great.
KID: They said we should all conserve water and turn off lights when we don’t need them so we don’t waste electricity.
PARENT: That’s right.
KID: Which means I shouldn’t take a bath tonight, or probably even this week.
PARENT: Huh?
KID: And you know how you always bug me about reading in the dark?
PARENT: Yes.
KID: That’s actually good because reading in the dark doesn’t waste electricity.
PARENT: Uh…
KID: We’re supposed to recycle everything, too, so wearing the same shirt, pants and underwear all week isn’t gross, it’s green.
PARENT: I think you’re taking these tips the wrong way.
KID: How could I take them the wrong way?
PARENT: I don’t know but I guess we’ll find out: what else did you learn?
KID: Eat local.
PARENT: And?
KID: Just that: eat local.
PARENT: That seems pretty straight forward.
KID: It is — and since that McDonald’s is just down the street, I was thinking we should go there as much as possible.
PARENT: Are you serious?
KID: We don’t even have to drive. We could walk!
PARENT: I don’t even know how to respond.
KID: I know eating local like that isn’t always practical, so we learned that when we can’t eat local, we should at least eat less.
PARENT: Let me guess: starting with vegetables?
KID: Especially carrots.
PARENT: Right.
KID: We should also try to use less.
PARENT: Which means?
KID: No more boring, stupid trips to Target! Hurray!
PARENT: Anything else?
KID: Americans waste 5.8 billion gallons of water each year flushing their toilets.
PARENT: No.
KID: But you don’t even know what the tip is.
PARENT: I can guess. And I don’t care how good it is for the planet, you have to flush.
KID: Wow. You know, when they said some people didn’t want to help the environment, I never thought they meant you.
Happy Earth Day.
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HOUSEGUEST: Mind if I bring my dog?
HOMEOWNER: To our house?
HOUSEGUEST: He’s not any trouble. You won’t even know he’s there.
HOMEOWNER: Is he housebroken?
HOUSEGUEST: Of course.
When it comes to pets, there seem to be two kinds of people: those who believe being housebroken is an either/or proposition — either a dog goes outside when he needs to do his business, or he’s not housebroken — and those who favor a more Zen-like interpretation, where “housebroken” is more journey than destination, a path to potty enlightenment that every dog must travel at its own speed, peeing and pooping along the way as the need arises.
As you would expect, the latter position is most often adopted by those who think of their dogs as their children, and they are usually as unapologetic when their “baby” has “an accident” as a real parent is when the same thing happens to their child.
The problem is that when a child poops or pees, it’s in his pants; when a dog poops or pees, it’s on the bedspread in the bedroom.
HOUSEGUEST: Sorry.
HOMEOWNER: I thought you said he was housebroken?
HOUSEGUEST: He is.
HOMEOWNER: Then why didn’t he go outside?
HOUSEGUEST: Everybody has accidents. He probably just got excited.
How do you react to this kind of situation?
There seem to be two kinds of people in this case, too: those who understand that “shit happens,” and when it does the only thing you can do is grab some paper towels and clean it up, and those who want to know who’s gonna pay for the new mattress.
(And, unfortunately, you won’t know which camp you fall into until it happens to you.)
To: All Taxpayers
From: IRS
RE: Replacement for IRS Form 1040 EZ for taxpayers experiencing economic hardship
In light of economic conditions facing the country, we are temporarily replacing IRS Form 1040 EZ with a new form that more directly addresses taxpayers financial difficulties. Anyone who has been recently (or not-so-recently) unemployed, who has lost their entire savings in the Madoff scandal or because they invested on Wall Street, who works for a Detroit auto maker, or who finds themself in a position where they owe more on their house than it’s worth, should now request IRS Form 1040 F.U. — because no matter how bad your situation is, you are still required to pay your taxes, and you will be penalized if you don’t.
How can a two hour and 20 minute flight take five hours?
Electronic check in:
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 17 minutes |
Manual check-in after electronic check-in can’t find everyone’s name:
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34 minutes |
Airport security:
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37 minutes |
Pat down, additional questioning after dad was randomly flagged as a potential terrorist (which the kids thought was funny, but the parents couldn’t believe):
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11 minutes |
Flight Delay (cause unknown, but “kid in control tower” incident suspected):
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40 minutes |
Actual flight:
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2 hours 20 minutes |
Wait on tarmac (after pilot announces “We’ll be taxing to the gate in just a few minutes”):
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17 minutes |
Wait at gate:
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7 minutes |
Wait at baggage claim:
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34 minutes |
Wait at baggage claim “lost luggage” department:
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19 minutes |
Time-out for deep, calming breaths:
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6 minutes |
Finding car in long-term parking after losing slip of paper with level and section number:
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22 minutes |
Explaining why there won’t be any more family trips until the memory of this last one has faded away completely:
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Weeks |
KID: Dad! Dad! You gotta come quick!
DAD: Why? What is it?
KID: Just come with me.
DAD: Wait… is this an April Fools’ prank?
KID: A what?
DAD: An April Fools’ prank — you know, where you play a practical joke on somebody and then when they realized it, you yell “April Fools!”
KID: I’ve never heard of that. Is it new?
DAD: No, April Fools’ Day has been around forever. In fact, it used to be one of my favorite holidays. One time when I was a kid, your uncle and I put black food coloring in the milk, and then when your grandpa poured it on his cereal he screamed. Another time we let the air out of one of his tires and told him he had a flat. And then there was this time we switched the morning newspaper and tricked him into thinking it was still yesterday, so he got dressed and went into work.
KID: Didn’t you get in trouble?
DAD: No way. That’s what’s so great about April Fools’ Day: it’s the one time of year you get to play practical joke on people and not get in trouble.
KID: Not even a little bit?
DAD: Anybody who gets mad at you for an April Fools’ prank is a bad sport.
KID: Cool.
DAD: Hey… where are you going?
KID: To the garage: I need to get a bucket, some duct tape and the hose.
DAD: Why?
KID: If I told you it wouldn’t be an April Fools’ Day prank, would it?
KID: Why’s Dad throwing up in the bathroom?
MOM: Um… he’s not feeling well.
KID: Is it because of St. Patrick’s Day?
MOM: What do you mean?
KID: Well, when I walked into the kitchen last night, I saw him putting green food coloring in his beer and when I asked him what he was doing he said he was celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
MOM: Um… uh… that’s right – sometimes adults drink green beer to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.
KID: And wear green clothes.
MOM: Yes, and they wear green clothes. When I was a little girl, we used to drink green milk, too.
KID: Yuck. You’re kidding right?
MOM: No. Why?
KID: Duh – because obviously green food coloring makes you sick. Why else would Dad be throwing up?
GET UP! GET UP! WE OVERSLEPT!
For most families, Daylight Saving Time turns what’s typically a frantic, time-crunched mess of morning activity into a domestic version of roller derby, with everyone throwing elbows and accusations as they scramble to get dressed and get out the door:
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: You said you were gonna change the clock.
IDIOT: I did.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Then why does it still say 7:40 when it’s really 8:40?
IDIOT: I guess I forgot.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Right — you forgot, so I’m late.
IDIOT: You could have changed it, too.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: I changed all the other clocks!
IDIOT: That’s my point: why didn’t you remind me to change this one while you were changing all the others?
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: I did!
IDIOT: Well… I guess I didn’t hear you.
According to wikipedia, Daylight Saving Time, which was standardized across most of the United States in 1967, was primarily intended to reduce energy consumption — the “extra” hour of daylight in the afternoon was supposed to mean fewer lights would have to be on at offices, retailers, restaurants etc.
But when you consider how most people react when the Daylight Saving Time-bomb goes off, it’s more likely that any energy savings will be more than off-set by the increased consumption caused by all the stupid things people do when their sleeping patterns get disrupted.
What’s the net-effect of having to make two extra trips to the grocery store — the first because you accidentally left your list at home, and the second because you accidentally left your kid there?
Or what about having to replace a freezer full of food because just after you opened the door to sneak some ice cream for breakfast, you realized the soccer game you thought was next weekend, wasn’t, but that if you left RIGHT NOW! you might still make it?
Or what about having to run an electric air pump off and on all night because otherwise the slightly-leaky inflatable mattress in the den you’ve been banished to because you said one-too-many mean things to your spouse will deflate?
IDIOT: If you reminded me to change the clock, then why didn’t I change it?
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Because you’re an idiot!
IDIOT: Me? If anyone’s an idiot, you are — and not just because of the clock.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Oh, really?
IDIOT: Yes, really. Do you have any idea how many stupid things you do around here on a daily basis?
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: No, but why don’t you tell me.
Net energy savings: probably zero
And what happens when you factor in the cost of dealing with all that stress, ill-will and negativity? Therapists — whether for marriage or anger-management — don’t make house calls (and if they do, they don’t make them on bikes).
There are bars for sulking/hiding/venting, of course, but they generally don’t have windows, meaning light (but not illumination) comes only from energy-sucking neon signs.
The gym? Maybe in the old days when free weights and stationary bikes were the norm, but now it seems like every piece of exercise equipment has to be plugged in or it won’t work.
Net energy savings: definitely zero
All of which raises the question: if Daylight Saving Time doesn’t actually save anything, what’s the point?
Perhaps the one good thing about Daylight Saving Time is that between all the extra caffeine it takes to get through the day and the fact that no matter how late the clock says it is, it’s impossible to sleep, everyone affected by it can spend half the night staring at the ceiling trying to figure that out.
- Don’t make yourself at home.
- If you stay longer than invited, you will not be asked to come back.
- Ever.
- There is no maid.
- Seriously — NO MAID, which means whichever host you are related to, or knew first, will end up cleaning up after you (though probably not until after a long, ugly argument).
- If you bring a pet, make sure your pet is housebroken.
- On second thought, no pets.
- When we say “if you need anything, just ask,” we don’t expect you to take us up on it.
- But if you really do need something, we’d prefer if you would let us find it for you rather than snooping looking for it in our drawers, closets, cabinets, etc. yourself.
- Pottery Barn rules apply: you break it, you buy it.
- This rule applies to kids, too.
- If you forget your toothbrush, razor, underwear or prescription anti-depressants, please don’t borrow ours.
- Just because you walk around naked at home doesn’t mean you should do that here, if for no other reason than seeing you naked will forever change our impression of you, and probably not for the better.
- Please refrain from discussing politics, religion or anything else unless you are certain your views are in line with ours, or that we like to argue.
- You know that ugly piece of art we have on the wall in the living room? We don’t think it’s ugly.
- On a related note, you know the voice you use when you don’t want anyone to hear you? We can still hear you.
- Please keep in mind that we invited you, not members of your extended family.
- Flush.
- And knock.
- If you don’t think you can abide by these rules, stay home.
- Unless you are family.
- And then only come during the holidays, when we are more likely to be forgiving.
- And which only come once a year.
- To go to the gym three days a week for two weeks, then once a week for the next three to five weeks, then three time a week for a week or two, then twice a week for one week before stopping entirely and resolving to resolve to go to the gym more next year.
- To go on a diet until something happens to necessitate a massive intake of comfort food that will lead to the slow, steady return of the bad eating habits that become entrenched in 2009.
- To talk about going on vacation someplace new and different, but then go to the same place as last year and the year before and the year before that because it’s easy and cheap and who needs the stress and uncertainty of a big trip anyway?
- To buy a lot of books about getting organized, but never have time to read them, let alone utilize any of their tips and suggestions.
- To spend more quality time with the kids, but only when its convenient and/or they’re not being needy, loud, destructive, insolent or pouty, which is probably never.
- To be greener, but only in ways that don’t involve hardship, self-sacrifice or extra work because, let’s face it, the environment is important but there’s just too much going on right now.
- To try to cope with the stress of modern life in a productive way, but eventually give up and just over-eat, drink an extra glass of wine or two each night, and take a variety of prescription medications.
- To save more and spend less, unless there’s a really great sale.
- To be anxious about the economy, health and well-being, work, family, marriage, saving for college and the future, but hopefully not all at once unless there’s a bottle of wine handy.
- To come home after a difficult day at work and yell at the kids for no apparent reason, but then feel more guilty about it than normal.
- To tell the kids again and again to “be careful” and then not be completely surprised when they aren’t and must be rushed to the emergency room for stitches and/or a cast.
- To worry less about what other people think, unless those other people are the neighbors, selected co-workers or somebody we want to impress.
- To find meaning and purpose in life, but then forget what it is thanks to chronic sleep deprivation, the never-ending demands of work and our household’s perpetual state of chaos.
- To maintain a positive mental state, even though it still looks like we’re all screwed.
“10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… Hey! No Fair!” — only kids could fight over who gets to do the New Year’s Eve countdown first. Happy New Year.
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While it may seem helpful that every toy in the toy store is labeled with a “recommended for ages X to Y” or “suitable for ages X and up,” it’s not.
In fact, in many ways it makes gift-giving much more complicated.
Let’s start with infants, toddlers and pre-schoolers: there isn’t a 21st Century parent who doesn’t believe the one running around his or her house isn’t clearly more developmentally advanced than most others.
Not convinced?
Just think about any conversation you’ve had with the parents since they became parents: doesn’t it always include at least one funny/touching anecdote about how their little angel accomplished something a merely “average” child wouldn’t be expected to do until he or she was much, much older?
Given this, it would seem logical to assume the child’s functional age would be much greater than the child’s actual age, to the point where, for example, a toy designed to help pre-schoolers improve small muscle control would be well-suited for their little toddler.
But no.
Because even if the kid is advanced, there’s no way he or she is that advanced, which means not only won’t the kid be able to use the toy (not for its intended purpose, anyway), the resulting failure, frustration and over-stimulation will lead to a massive meltdown the child’s parents will blame on you and the idiotic gift you bought that traumatized their offspring.
You might as well have given the child a dunce cap and the parents a t-shirt that read “We’re the proud parents of a moron.”
It doesn’t get any easier buying gifts for older kids, either.
Let’s say you have an 11-year-old nephew who loves to play video games. Having spent some time with him, you realize his favorite games are ultra-violent first-person shooters and elaborate, adult-oriented fantasy role-playing games.
So you buy him one.
And then come Christmas Day, when you call over to the house to say “Season’s Greetings,” you’re shocked when nobody will speak to you.
What happened?
The game you got was rated “M for Mature,” just like the dozen other “M for Mature” games he has in his room and plays regularly.
Except his parents didn’t realize this (either because they never set foot in his room because it’s too messy, or because they’re parents and they’re so overwhelmed with everyday demands they filter out everything that isn’t homework or a fight).
PARENTS: What did Uncle Scott get you?
KID: A video game, see?
PARENTS: I don’t think that’s appropriate – it says on the box it’s rated “M for Mature.”
KID: No, it’s fine – I have tons of other “M for Mature” games.
PARENTS: You do?
The result is your nephew hates you because you got all his games taken away and his parents hate you because you’re probably the one who corrupted him in the first place.
As if that’s not enough of an argument against age-appropriate guidelines, there’s also this problem: where do they come from?
Obviously not from parents, because if they did there would be some kind of board or council or non-profit organization responsible for determining them that would have splintered years ago into Liberal, Conservative and Centrist factions that parents would be pressured to support or denounce.
Guidelines clearly aren’t determined by toy manufacturers, either, as they would never open themselves up to such and easy-to-win lawsuit:
ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: Did you or did you not state that this toy was appropriate for children ages 8 and up?
CEO: We did.
ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: And where did you state that?
CEO: On the label.
ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: But the four-year-olds I’m representing can’t read, can they?
CEO: No, they can’t. Which is why we agree to pay whatever settlement you want.
So who is responsible?
Unfortunately, the only group that’s left is the same group of child development experts who make up all the other guidelines for children — which might seem fine, except that for every parent who agrees with their advice (and quotes it freely, and condemns anyone who doesn’t believe it) there’s another parent who thinks everything they say is just stupid.
So unless you know exactly where the parents of the child you’re buying a gift for stand, you’re better off avoiding toys and their age-appropriate guidelines completely and doing what generations of non-parents have been doing for decades: giving U.S. Savings Bonds.
Don’t give clothes, either, unless you’re absolutely certain the parents will like them, otherwise they end up in a giant box in the back of the closet that’s not just a pain to get out whenever you come over, but becomes an enduring reminder of your bad taste and/or cluelessness when it comes to what kinds of clothes real kids wear.
On the first day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
The worst cold I ever did have.
On the second day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the third day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the fourth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the fifth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the sixth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the seventh day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the eighth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the ninth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the tenth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Ten accusations
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the eleventh day of Christmas
My true love gave to me Eleven silent curses
Ten accusations
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Twelve nasty looks
Eleven silent curses
Ten accusations
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
(Which is probably why we’re not talking to each other right now.)
PARENT: What are you doing?
4-YEAR-OLD: Mom said I should write a letter to Santa Claus.
PARENT: Can I see?
4-YEAR-OLD: Sure. Here.
PARENT: It says “A.”
4-YEAR-OLD: Yeah, I was gonna write a “G” but I couldn’t remember which way the opening went.
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It’s easy to forget that kids have to be taught pretty much everything, and that just because something seems as if it would be self-evident to even the littlest of minds, it probably isn’t.
While this is true at all times of the year, it seems especially important to keep in mind over the holidays.
- Even though Play-doh is a lot like cookie dough, and can easily be cut into holiday shapes that look exactly like the sugar cookies Grandma makes, you can’t bake it. And if you do, it smells really, really bad for days.
- Magic Marker shouldn’t be used to decorate Christmas cookies. Or mommy’s new Christmas dress.
- Taking a bite of raw dough is probably not going to make you sick, but eating all the raw dough in the bowl probably will. (Although probably not until 3 am.)
- Santa is not fat because he’s so completely stressed out at the thought of losing his job he’s eating too much. (Though he will be cutting back a little this year, so you might not get absolutely everything you put on your list.)
- Just because you like egg nog doesn’t mean you can have as much as you want. This also goes for the dog.
DASHER: What’s wrong? You look pissed.
COMET: Did you see the memo? “To reindeer, from Santa: due to unforeseen weather conditions, effective immediately, Rudolph will assume responsibility for sleigh navigation and team member management.”
DASHER: Rudolph’s gonna lead the sleigh tonight!?!?!?! But Rudolph doesn’t even have any experience.
COMET: I know: how can somebody who’s never even been on the team step in and lead it?
DASHER: I guess if you kiss the right ass, anything’s possible.
COMET: Yeah, forget “red nose,” they oughta call him “brown nose.”
DASHER: Doesn’t Santa realize there’s a reason we never let Rudolph join in any of our reindeer games?
COMET: You know Santa as well as I do: he only cares if you’re “good” or “bad,” not if you’re bossy, manipulative, selfish and conniving.
DASHER: Personally, I find the whole thing insulting. I mean, have we ever let Santa down before? Doesn’t he believe in us?
COMET: Sometimes I think Santa’s not just thick around the middle, he’s thick in the head, too. But what can I say? The fog’s got him worried.
DASHER: What he should be worried about is Rudolph getting a DUI.
COMET: Huh?
DASHER: C’mon – why do you think they call him “red” nose?
COMET: I had no idea.
DASHER: And the worst part is we’ll all just go along with it because that’s what good reindeer do.
COMET: We’re enablers.
DASHER: And then, when Christmas is over and all the children of the world have their toys, everybody will say it’s all because of Rudolph.
COMET: Oh, c’mon. We’ll get some of the credit.
DASHER: Mark my words: Rudolph will go down in history.
Gathering around the table. √
Spending some quality time together. √
Taking a break from DVDs, movies, video games and other passive forms of entertainment. √
Reliving fond memories of playing Monopoly as a kid. √
Trying to figure out which version of Monopoly to play. √
Watching the kids fight over who gets to be the racecar. √
Watching the kids fight over who gets to roll first. √
Watching the kids fight over who who the bowl of popcorn gets to be set down in front of. √
Threatening to send everyone to bed if they don’t behave. √
Enjoying five minutes of stress-free game play. √
Trying to explain to a younger sibling why they have to give their older sibling money just because they landed on Marvin Gardens. √
Wiping away the younger sibling’s tears. √
Using the parent voice to tell the older sibling not to be a sore winner. √
Getting competitive. √
Mentally adding up the cost of therapy if you decide to just completely bankrupt your kids. √
Reminding yourself the point is to have fun. √
Letting your kids win. √
Hoping Family Game Night will be better next week. √
Fearing that it won’t. √
Wondering if Family Movie Night would be a better idea instead. √
Things we want but don’t need:
- More choices
- The complete season of anything
- Bigger HDTVs
- New neighbors (they don’t say “The devil you know…” for nothing)
- Sleep (though it might not feel that way today, the fact that our eyes are still open proves it)
Things we need but don’t have:
- Time
- Enough space in the hall closet
- Healthy, all-natural, organic snacks that don’t taste like crap
- Somebody to validate our decisions
- Perspective (which, like car keys and DVD cases, is easy to misplace and doesn’t usually turn up until we stop looking for it)
Things we have but don’t use:
- Offers from childless friends to baby-sit
- Half of whatever we got at our school’s last silent auction
- A fondue set
- Kid coupons for “15 minutes of quiet,” “a free back rub,” “breakfast in bed,” etc.
- Control over what we do with our life (even though it doesn’t always — or ever? — feel that way)
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With a single Thanksgiving meal packing a full day-and-half’s worth of calories, it’s easy to see why so many of us find ourselves slumped on the sofa in front of the TV after everyone has gone home, groaning, bloated, unable to move and wondering why we feel so bad.
Fortunately, there is a simple way to prevent this kind of excess on Thanksgiving: go vegan.
While many can’t imagine Thanksgiving without turkey, gravy and sausage-based stuffing, that’s the whole point: if you fill your table with stuff you don’t like and normally wouldn’t ever eat, you can’t possibly eat too much.
True, nut roll, tempeh and all-the-vegetables-you-can-eat might not sound very appealing to some, but keep in mind that you can still booze it up.
(And while that, too, may leave you slumped on the sofa in front of the TV after everyone has gone home, you won’t be groaning, bloated, unable to move and wondering why you feel so bad, you’ll just be passed out).
Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.
Editor’s note: What if you’re already vegan? Do just the opposite: go un-vegan. Not only will the shock of all that animal flesh make you instantly sick — and therefore unable to overeat — throwing up at the table will also help your friends and family because the sight, sound and smell of your vomit will likely cause them to vomit, too, and then nobody will be able to eat, let alone overeat.
KID: What’s Daylight Savings?
PARENT: It’s when we set our clocks back an hour.
KID: What does that mean?
PARENT: It means what used to be 10:00 is now 9:00, so there’s actually an extra hour in the day.
KID: Which day?
PARENT: Today.
KID: That’s a relief – I was afraid it was gonna be when I was in school.
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PARENT: Did you decide what you want to be yet?
KID: A vampire.
PARENT: I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.
KID: Why?
PARENT: You’re not supposed to be anything anyone might find inappropriate.
KID: Seriously?
PARENT: That’s what it said in the paper.
KID: I guess I could be G.I.JOE.
PARENT: No, you can’t do that because your school has a zero-tolerance policy on weapons.
KID: What if I leave the plastic gun at home?
PARENT: You’d still get expelled for wearing a holster.
KID: How about I go as a hobo?
PARENT: That’s culturally insensitive.
KID: You were an Indian when you were a kid, what about that?
PARENT: That’s racially insensitive.
KID: A wrinkly old man?
PARENT: That’s ageist.
KID: The Devil?
PARENT: Too many people think Halloween glorifies Satanism, so that’s not a good idea either.
KID: How about I just throw a sheet over my head and go as a ghost?
PARENT: No.
KID: Why?
PARENT: Covering your face like that would be a safety issue.
KID: Then what should I be?
PARENT: How about a clown?
KID: No way – clowns are too scary.
For a holiday that doesn’t include presents or days off from school, why is Halloween so popular?
And is it better than it used to be, or worse?
If you were a kid at any time during the ‘70s, the contrast between Halloween now and Halloween then is pretty clear.
(Besides the fact that now you’re the parent.)
For starters, you didn’t buy a costume back then, you made one. You thought of something cool, that nobody else would come up with, and then you spent the two or three weeks leading up to October 31st badgering your mother to help you make it.
“Pretty please?”
Sometimes your creation went over well, sometimes it didn’t:
KID #1: What are you?
KID #2: I’m Floyd, the Hillbilly Sheriff.
KID #1: Oh.
Now everybody just goes to Target or one of those pop-up Halloween stores and picks out one of the pre-packaged outfits from Star Wars, Hannah Montana, Harry Potter, X-Men, G.I. Joe, Transformers, iCarly or Micky Mouse Clubhouse, or for those who want something less commercial, a costume from the unbranded collection:
KID #1: Who are you?
KID #2: I’m a generic pirate. Argh. How about you?
KID #1: I’m a generic ghost. Boo.
Not that homogenization is all bad: at least nobody gets their feelings hurt because their costume sucks.
And for grown-ups who can’t tell Boba Fett from Voldemort, it’s convenient that asking “And what are you supposed to be?” once means you’ll be able to correctly identify 80% of whoever comes up to your door the rest of the night.
There were plenty of other differences as well:
- Schools actually had Halloween parties during school hours.
- If a kid was going as, say, a soldier or a cowboy, he’d bring a toy gun without worrying about a zero-tolerance expulsion.
- For costumes in general, nobody thought twice about being culturally insensitive. (And sometimes it seemed like that was the whole point.)
- Kids went trick or treating by themselves, late into the night, without flashlights, beacons, cell phones, GPS or an adult guardian.
- Nobody gave out healthy snacks (or felt guilt that they didn’t).
Maybe it’s just that everything seemed to move at a slower pace back then, with fewer complications and less to worry about — the biggest fear a parent faced was an apple with a razorblade inside, not an Amber Alert.
(Or an H1N1 outbreak after a crowded Halloween party.)
Contrast that with today, where there seem to be so many risks and potential red flags, it’s amazing we even let our kids participate in a tradition where they walk around in the dark collecting candy we haven’t screened from neighbors we haven’t met.
Then again, if the whole point of Halloween is to be scared, now definitely beats then, and probably will until our kids are grown.
(Which is exactly what our parents said in the ’70s.)
- If you’re a parent, just accentuate the bags under your eyes and go as a zombie.
- Stick your head in the sand and tell everyone you’re an optimist.
- Put on white pants, a white shirt, and white shoes, then jump in the shower and go as the melting polar ice caps.
- Grab your resume, put on a suit and tie and be one of the millions looking for work. (And if you actually are one of the millions looking for work, do all of the above, but also smile and tell everyone you’re the 1 in 500 who applied for a job and actually got hired.)
- Grab a coin, a ouija board, an astrology chart and some of those bones mystics in movies throw to predict the future and tell everyone you’re an economist.
- Write “Healthcare Debate” on your shirt, then stab yourself with a fork and say you’re done. (But first make sure the nearest emergency room is on your list of approved providers, you have plenty of money to make your co-pay, and that your health insurance company won’t decline coverage because your stab wound is a pre-existing condition.)
- Stay home and hide in the attic, then when people ask you what you did for Halloween you can tell them you went as the balloon boy.
- Smile, breath a deep sigh of relief, and be the parent of a kid who’s going to a Halloween party at somebody else’s house.
Halloween is supposed to be the one night of the year you can let your kids eat too much candy without feeling guilty about it, which makes an in-depth article like this one on CNN.com not only depressing, but irresponsible, mean-spirited and wholly inappropriate.
Boo-hiss, CNN.
Next time have the courtesy to run this after Halloween is over.
Which means:
- Whatever the weather forecast is for next weekend still has a 50% chance of being wrong — 75% if it’s supposed to be a nice.
- All the good candy is already gone.
- If you are hoping to exchange the costume you told your child not to get because you knew he or she wouldn’t ultimately want to wear it, you are probably out of luck because all the good costumes are gone, too.
KID: Mother’s Day is coming up.
MOM: I know.
KID: Do you want us to get you anything?
MOM: Only if you want to.
KID: Or course we want to, we just don’t know what you want.
MOM: Surprise me.
KID: With what?
MOM: With something I’d like.
KID: A present?
MOM: Sure.
KID: But what kind of present?
MOM: How can you spend so much time with me and not know a single thing I like? Just think about what I do every day.
KID: Okay.
MOM: Does that give you any ideas?
KID: It does — we could get you some plastic bags.
MOM: Plastic Bags?
KID: For making our lunches.
MOM: No.
KID: Okay, what about some dish towels?
MOM: No.
KID: Pencils you could use to help us with homework?
MOM: No.
KID: A mop?
MOM: No.
KID: You already have an SUV you like to drive us around in. How about one of those cool toilet bowl cleaners I saw on TV?
MOM: No.
KID: New laundry basket?
MOM: Do you think I do all those things because I like to?
KID: Why else would you do them?
MOM: Because I’m a mom and that’s what mom’s do: stuff they don’t like doing, but needs to be done.
KID: Oh.
MOM: Yeah, “Oh.”
KID: If that’s the case, then I know exactly what you’d like for Mother’s Day.
MOM: What’s that?
KID: To be like Dad: ‘cause there’s lots of stuff he needs to do, but usually he just watches ESPN instead.
Editor’s Note: While not entirely true, there’s no doubt the sentiment expressed above often feels true.
Kid #1: Got your Halloween costume yet?
Kid #2: No.
Kid #1: Why not?
Kid #2: I got grounded.
Kid #1: On Halloween? What happened?
Kid #2: I told my parents I wanted to be something really, really scary, so my mom said I should be John McCain, and my dad said I should be Barack Obama.
Kid #1: Okay.
Kid #2: But then they started arguing about who was right and who was a pig-headed moron.
Kid #1: I hate it when parents do that.
Kid #2: Me, too. I stood there for as long as I could, but finally I couldn’t take it anymore.
Kid #1: What did you do?
Kid #2: I said if they really want me to be something scary, I should just go as Sarah Palin.
Kid #1: So why’d you get grounded?
Kid #2: Well… the only way I could get their attention was by smashing the table lamp.
Kid #1: Yikes.
Kid #2: Yeah, but at least they found common ground.
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