Keep It Real, Yo!

Q: Don't you just love bright red drinks?

A: Oh my goodness...someone's had waaaay too much sheltering. Bright red drinks? What do bright red drinks have to do with the price of tea in China? Like, seriously. For real? Bright red drinks?? You are not keeping it real, yo. Don't you watch American Idol EVER?? Randy Jackson would judge you right into reality if he heard you ask that question. Then you'd cry and he'd say, "What? I'm just keeping it real!!"

So I should save you some future humiliation and let you in on a little secret...come closer...shhhh...closer...there - perfect...NOBODY ON THE PLANET LOVES BRIGHT RED DRINKS - CAN YOU HEAR ME??? NODOBY!!! Asking someone if they love bright red drinks is like inviting them into your wacko oblivion that you're in. "Come, join us on this surreal planet where we sing la-la-la all day long and nobody ever dies and it rains lollipops and ice-cream everyday..."

If that didn't sound silly to you then I suppose I could acquire a taste for bright red...COME ON!!! Seriously!!!???

I think you need a reality check, so I'm going to give you one. You'll thank me after the psychotherapy is complete. You are in denial about almost everything - you're hiding behind bright red drinks to suppress the negative things that happen in the real world around us - I bet everything that you wear has flowers on it or plaid or thatches - you need to forget about bright red drinks and focus on building the shell that's underneath your fantasy blanket. Bright red drinks are for sissies!! You need to graduate from your bright red drinks soother to true coping skills.

Anyway, enough of that. I'm going to get a cream soda.

Moms, Hurricanes, and Hormones

Q: Why do kids always blame their mothers for all their problems? I think I’m a pretty good mom and hopefully we can get through the teenage years in one piece.

A: Do you want the Freudian answer or the 7 year old answer? If you want the Freudian answer, it's because parents are to blame for the way their kids turn out. And since "turning out" has it's problems (as well as successes), then parents are blamed psychologically by their kids even at a very young age. And being human, we tend to blame things on everybody else anyway. AND...since moms are typically the primary caregivers, kids tend to blame them more often because they're usually around to blame more often. And if you think you're getting blamed these days, just WAIT until your kids become teenagers. Think of a tornado in the middle of a hurricane that's in the middle of a typhoon, that's in the middle of a comet storm, that's in the middle of hormones and that time of the month, that's in the middle of your kitchen and living room. That's what your in for.

Now, if you want the 7 year old version, it's because kids are innocent and always right, and the world revolves around their very psyches because reason and accountability haven't developed quite yet, so there's really no capacity there to accept real blame. Sorry, that's more from a 39 year old. Here's the real 7 year old version: who else can I blame??? SOMEBODY has to take the heat!!!

Now, it seems as if the last part of your question is almost a plea for peace during the teenage years you are heading for. It seems as if you're almost begging your daughter or son to "go easy" on you. Well, since I'm 7 - if my mother asked me to go easy, I'd say no problem - I'll never treat her the way some girls treat their mothers on TV. But the girls on TV are older than me, so in all honesty, I couldn't make any promises! And if you're really my mom asking ME to go easy on you, then I'm going to take my get out of jail free card when I turn 14 because I can only hope for the best at 7 years old.

Good luck to all you mothers who are approaching teenage-hood. Take my advice - just help the poor sods through it. By the way, chances are you're probably doing a stellar job, but your kids won't realize the scope of your efforts until they have their own kids...and if you're lucky enough and stay involved with your kids...they might just even tell you someday.

Pennies are NOT for Pansies

Q: Why do old ladies always have the EXACT change at a checkout?

A: That's an easy one - it's because the store is not getting one red cent more of their money. They learned the value of money when Fred Flintstone was a baby. But they are old enough to have made it to an age where the customer is not always right. And they have learned that very well. So they count their pennies very carefully no matter what little girl is staring at them or rushing them with sighs and other loud, obvious noises, because it's THEIR money. It's not the stores yet until she passes it to the clerk. You couldn't drag that money out of her hands with wild horses even if she was DEAD.

It's not anyone's money actually - it's the old lady's, and she's probably saved those pennies during the great depression, which gives the pennies an even greater, more significant, more sentimental value than anything you or I will ever own. EVER. Like if we were all Hindus and reincarnated for the next 50,000,000 years and brought all our piggy bank money with us, our Barbie Dolls - unless you're way boring -, and fruit loops... old ladies would still count their 37 cents like gemologists (dad, you're an idiot) studies diamonds - very carefully and with excruciating precision. I don't even know why dad makes me include those big ridiculous words.

Anyway, the point is, old ladies will kill you if you take one penny or try to even count it for them. It's a death wish. The next time you see an old lady getting her change purse out, don't say to her, "Pennies are for pansies..." - she'll knock you straight into the next 50,000,000 years - AND she will keep your change.

Dylan Beiber Is My Brother

Q: What's all the fuss with Justin Beiber?

A: Justin who? No idea who you are talking about.

Just kidding. Who doesn't know him? I can't wait to go see his movie. Mom is taking me sometime - or else I'll make my teenage years absolutely horrible for her. Dad can't believe how many products have his picture on them. He said he's a mana-mana or something like that. Maybe it was fen-a-ma-na...I don't care really. Anyway, the B-man is really cool and all that, but my two brothers could out-do him on stage any day. Caleb can dance like a star and he performs all the time! He's even in hip-hop classes. My other brother Daryl, er - Dylan, is Justin Beiber's twin...see for yourself...

Told ya. He has a girlfriend too; she's really pretty. Now he's gonna kill me for telling everyone that. But what do I care - I'm a celebrity - we're untouchable. What's really cool about the B-man is that he's a nice guy and I hope his stardom doesn't make him act like my brother Dylan when he's winning at Modern Warfare (X-BOX). Two words: snob be.

So all-in-all, Justin's just a regular kid, an average person, a plain donut - nothing to get all butterfly-ish over.

That's why I have his picture on my door.

Cranky Bunkers

 Q: Why do we get old?

A: What you mean to ask is, why do we get cranky? Or why do we allow old people to be cranky? It's like their right to crank or something. The other day when we went to the Superstore, there was an old lady there - you know the kind: the plastic hair net, even when it's dry out - and she was taking FOREVER and EVER and EVER and EVER to get her change purse out and I accidentally bumped into her because I was going a thousand miles an hour around the corner. Big whoop, right? I'm 7. But the look she gave me was like something right off of Archie Bunker, so dad says.

Anyway, she looks at me, points her little pointy finger right at me and says, "You should watch where you're going missy." Really, well you should buy a new hat because I totally can't take you seriously right now, so that's why I'm still smiling. And then she has a the nerve to say, "I'd take that smile off your face." There were lots of people around and they all just let her say it like it was her right to crank. Holy moly. Dad said, "oh she's just excited," but the old lady scowled at him too!!! Then dad said something about a few fries short of a happy meal under his breath. No idea how he can think about McDonald's when old women are unraveling in the grocery store. 

Anyway, she managed to finally count her money and give it to the clerk while giving me dirty looks the whole time. I thought someone should have been there with her, but she seems very independent. That is, until we drove by 2 hours later and she was still pushing the cart up the street - going like an inch a minute. Then I kind of felt bad for her. Then I didn't again. But then I did again. I hope she made it home at least. Even cranky ladies deserve exercise.

This old lady already had her workout: