If there’s one thing that makes me want to smash things, it’s non-human devices that thank me for my patience. It’s not just the automated voice that interrupts my elevator music every two minutes while I’m on hold scooping flesh out of my face with my fingernails. Today’s tirade is dedicated to my Toshiba flat screen TV, which thanks me for my patience during the entire sixty grueling seconds that it takes to warm up, while I stand there calculating how many cumulative hours I’ve spent dumbly staring at it with my remote control. If I had the money, I’d take a sledgehammer to it, but sadly, I can’t afford a sledgehammer.
Outside the Baby Bubble
How quickly she forgets.
Every year I get a letter from my Alma Mater. As much as I love Carolina, it seems the only time she writes, she’s looking for money. I don’t know why I feel that way—maybe it’s because she ends each letter with “I, I/we want to give to Carolina. Please check one: $100, $250, $500, $1,000, $2,000, or other.” Seems like just yesterday I paid off a multi-thousand-dollar donation known as “tuition.”
Moonsand/Juicy Juice/bunny stuffing infestation
The building inspector came today to look at our addition. The good news is, he thinks it’s coming along swimmingly, and he gave us the go-ahead to get started on the plumbing and insulation. The bad news is, he looked at the other wing of the house—with its wall-to-wall carpet of Moon Sand, a river of Juicy Juice from Anna’s spill-proof cup and tumbleweeds of stuffing yanked savagely from Anna’s beloved Build-a-Bunny—and declared it uninhabitable. Anyone in need of five free-loading roommates and their two bunny-mauling dogs?
Octomom: an intimate portrait
This morning I was listening to Raven in the Morning on WCCC, and they we talking about a new company called “Dial-a-Star”—where you can call a celebrity of your choice and chat for up to $18 per minute. So far, celebrities on board are Dina and Michael Lohan, in case you want the dirt on their daughter; an ex-Charlie Sheen goddess; Real Housewives of New Jersey star Danielle Staub; and even Nayda Suleman, otherwise known as “Octomom.”
After getting over my initial disdain that people might pay that kind of money to talk to someone whose sole talent is mass reproducing herself, I tried to imagine the conversation one might have with the Octomom herself. Here is what I came up with:
“Hello?”
“Hello! Nadya? My name is…”
“HELLO? Is anybody there?”
“Yes. Hi, Nayda. My name is…”
“Can you speak up? I’ve got seven kids screaming in each ear, I’ve got a dirty butt on the table with no wipes, and my 11-year-old is sitting next to me blasting Grand Theft Auto.”
“…OK. So I was wondering—”
“MOM! JOSH JUST WIPED A BOOGER IN MY HAIR!”
“Joshua, use a tissue. … You were saying?”
“… Well, I was wondering what it’s like to—”
“MOM, where’s that story you promised to read me six months ago?”
“Amerah, did someone drop your test tube? I thought I told you I don’t have time for stories. Go ask your father. The last time I saw him, he had a cup and a magazine in his hand…it’s his turn to read the goddamn story!”
“MOM, can you help me with my math homework?”
“Calissa, it’s called e-tutor.com. Use it! Anyway, why are you wasting your time on homework? Can’t you see Noah needs a diaper change?”
“Isn’t he potty-trained yet?”
“Probably, but we’re still getting government-subsidized diapers, and it’s cheaper than toilet paper. CALEB! Get your finger out of that light socket. I can barely afford the electric bill as it is!”
“… Excuse me? I’m still here, and I still haven’t been able to ask you any questions.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a question for me? Here’s a question for you. They put in six eggs, eight kids come out. How the hell does that happen? Hey, Calissa! Solve this math problem for me!”
“Hey, I’m paying $18 a minute for this call.”
“Oh yeah? Last I checked, I pushed out 18 kids in a minute. Don’t knock yourself out!”
“MOM! I can’t find my Hannah Montana 2 Meet Miley Cyrus CD!”
“Oh, really? I can’t find kids #8-11!”
“If I can just have your attention—”
(CRASH!)
“Dammit, Isaiah, that was my favorite Pitri dish! JEREM—JOSIAH—JONAH—JOSH—what’s your name again?—stop jumping off the table—you’ll break the ceiling fan with your head, and I ain’t paying for no air conditioner! Maliyah! Make like you’re an embryo and chill! NARIYAH, MAKAI—can’t you see I’m on the phone?! WHAT THE #$%&* HAPPENED TO YOUR INSIDE VOICES?”
Congratulations, Dial-a-Star customer. In a single phone call, you just funded another in-vitro fertilization and fourteen college tuitions. Best money you ever spent!