Petty Dirty Little Things

1) If this is correct, the RIAA just shit in the pool. Again. (via Wil Wheaton, WWdN)

2) If you went to Wil’s post just now, did you find the YouTube video of the girls singing to the Pixies? I have a secret fear my daughter will turn out like these girls. And that’s just a reflex judgement, I’m sure they’re smart and fun and don’t smoke pot in the parking lot of 7-11 or go down on their boyfriends on the drive to A&W for rootbeer floats, or anything like that…anything like that…sigh.

3) I’m such a bitch sometimes, I can’t stand myself. There’s this girl my son’s age, about 9, who goes to the same school and is now at the same summer day camp. She’s a quiet little thing, sweet, but skittish to the point of running and hiding in the corner whenever anyone talks to her. Her mother, who I know vaguely, dresses her in clothes that remind me of Diana Ross singing, “…in a worn, torn dress that somebody threw out”. Now I’m all for getting cheap kids clothes, hey, Target is my best kids clothes place, and I’m intimately familiar with the Gently Used Consignment Clothing Store. But. But this girl’s mom finds the oldest, most worn, ugliest clothes to put on this child. This child is teased by other 9-year old girls for her clothing choices. This girl’s mother doesn’t realize that faded red flower shorts do NOT go with a striped wine-color t-shirt that her XXL dad doesn’t wear anymore. I’ve never seen this girl’s waist…not once. I want to have a talk with the mom and tell her, gently, that the girl needs something to make her feel pretty, to make her feel like she’s “one of the girls”, that if she just spent $5 on a new cute girly blouse instead of $4 on a used man’s shirt, her daughter might not be so shy, might feel more important, might feel like a GIRL. Yeah, I’m a bitch like that, because it isn’t up to me. It’s petty and wrong of me to see only what the girl wears. BUT. When you can sense low self-esteem, and not fitting in, and you see what other 9-year old girls see…then I guess I am a bitch. A petty, shallow bitch. So sue me.

4) I think I have a new Fantasy Boyfriend. But I’m not sure. I need to rent more stuff he’s in. The thing is, I’ve never found him attractive on my ‘Hockey Player Attractiveness Scale”. Sergei rented a movie this weekend and he was in it, and something clicked in my head. Oddly, I want to bang him. Funny, that.

5) I took the kids to a strawberry patch last Saturday, we picked 10 quarts of berries, which I promptly baked into a pie (with rhubarb, Sergei’s favorite), and made oodles of jams (regular and sugar-free) and we ate the rest, fresh, out of the cardboard carton. Yesh. I am something out of a Robert McClosky book. But the jam is daaaaamn good. And we ate almost the entire pie yesterday. My belly is berried out, in such a delicious way. And blueberry season isn't far away.