_ (05/11/2012) Today’s Flashback Friday is in honor of Mother’s Day.
(08/05/2009) Last night, my plan was to dress as Mary Todd Lincoln and head-up the history table at a Family Fun Back to School Bash. And, I would have been a huge hit...seriously, for some reason, kids love that hoopskirt. I think it's because I could be hiding anything under there. I could be...I don't know...smuggling a cotton candy machine under there. Ooohhhh, wouldn't that be a cool party trick if I could reach under my skirt and pull out a big fluffy ball of pink cotton candy and it looked like I was spinning pastel sugar with my private parts? Or even better, if I actually could--okay, no...no cotton crotch candy. But, I have considered getting one of those motorized coolers that I could sit on and zip around--it would just look like Mary Todd was a ghost, floating all specter-like, and I would always have a chilled beverage. I digress.
Anyway, the torrential rainstorm kept me from retrieving my costume, and forced me into coming up with a Plan B. I opted for the old "Who Am I?" riddle game. So, I wrote these witty little ditties about the following: Abraham Lincoln, Anne Frank, Helen Keller, Martin Luther King Jr., Benjamin Franklin, and Pocahontas (though it appears her whole saving John Smith and thus having real historical relevance was a complete fabrication).
So, I had to convince the children to come over and "Name that Historical Figure" based on the poem I would read. This was no easy task when they also had the cool option to brush a big alligator puppet's teeth, make slimy Gak, or go on a Math scavenger hunt that ended with a big treasure chest full of prizes. Still, I was able to temporarily conquer my pediophobia (fear of children) and lure over a dozen little miserable munchkins to play. My favorite encounter of the night goes as such.
I begin reading the following poem:
As a girl, I wrote in a diary made of red plaid,
Some of it might make you laugh, but more would make you sad,
For in Germany when the Nazis held sway,
The Jews were not welcomed and were forced to go away...
The mother, looking at the list of possible answers, lights up and says, "I've got a hint, honey. There's a song about her." I was intrigued. I'd never heard a song about this tragic story, but I was betting it wouldn't be cheerful. Mom begins to shake her shoulders and sing, "Shush girl. Shut your lips. Do the...come on, baby, you know this... Shush girl. Shut your lips. Do the..."
I am dismayed...appalled...shocked even. I know this song. It's by those obnoxious white fratrats, 3Oh!3. The rest of it goes, "Shush girl. Shut your lips. Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips."
So first things first, Mommy...the answer is NOT Helen Keller. Second, why in the name of Mr. Rogers, Big Bird, and all that is wholesome are you letting your 7-year-old sing about her hips doing the talking? She shouldn't even know she has hips yet. AND, please tell me she doesn't know the rest of the lyrics to this sweet ballad which are about a heroin-addicted club slut and tongues in stranger's mouths and contain barely-bleeped obscenities. You got to be effing kidding me?
So, anyway, the answer was Anne Frank.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.