Boy, I suck at the blogging lately. And as usual, I will make my “busy, oh so busy” defense. But I really am.
I am in the process of trying to get the house and yard ready for a birthday party for mr b, which is easier said than done, given that a) we’re busy – duh, b) we live like big fat pigs and there is a TON of cleaning or organizing to do, and c) mr b is the king of 80% done projects, so there are a lot of unfinished projects around the house. So it’s been a delightful time for one and all in our household.
Notice how I didn’t mention mr b’s age. See, I was all ready to tell you but lately, I have been reading the blogs of some of my friends and they are also having birthday celebrations for people at or around mr b’s age. And those people are THEIR FATHERS!!!! OK, fine! He’s 50! And even though he robbed the cradle with me, I am close enough behind to feel it breathing on me. So if your mom or dad or grandma is 50, don’t tell me. Let me remain blissfully deluded that I am the same age as all of you and not enough older that I was in college when you were all watching Sesame Street. Kthx!!
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I think I mentioned that the girl joined baton. She loves it, and I am glad. I joined when I was about her age, too (and actually – Lord – stayed with it through two years of college - Titan Twirler - woo!). Anyhoo, when the girls march in parades, there are “marching moms” that walk along the parade route with them. Not so much my bag – I’m content to sit on the curb and cheer and take photos, but I am willing if they need me. Or at least I was until this Friday’s homecoming parade (the new girls didn’t march), when I discovered that the “marching moms” have uniforms. Oh yes. They have nice little white golf-style shorts with the team logo on it. Not so bad, right? Until you look down and see that they also wear red pants. No – they aren’t even pants. They’re slacks. RED SLACKS. Which appeared to have an elastic waist. DANGER DANGER DANGER!!!!!
I’m sorry, but there is no way that this ass is going onto those pants. No, never, NOOOOOO. The woman who runs it is the same that was running it back in 1974 when I first joined and her style hasn’t changed since. I take that back – she updated her style when she was the high school majorette sponsor and she discovered headbands. Sequined headbands. Worn not like a cute hairband, but like a dorky sweatband. Sometimes with poufy things on them. She still loves those – they are part of the uniforms, from the little ones up to the high school. Of course, now that I think about it, I’d rather wear a sequined headband than red slacks, but the likelihood of me wearing either is somewhere between “Um…no” and “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…no.”
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Finally, I need to share with you what I saw today. Prepare yourself because it’s a horrible crime against humanity. Are you ready?
Are you sure? Because it’s bad!
OK, then…
I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!
14 comments:
I get the all supporting breast cancer, but to make the "terrible Towel Pink???? WTF?
As for Mr. B, Happy Birthday!!! I hope your party is all sorts of awesome. :) Have fun!
ha sorry about my dad's birthday! In my defense, my parents are REALLY young, my mom was 18 when I was born ;)
Also: RED PANTS WITH AN ELASTIC WAIST? What the hell is up with that?
My parents are WAAAAY older than 50, so that should make you feel better. I hope.
And I kind of like the pink. *ducks to avoid flying objects*
The red pants outfit only makes sense if the parade is marching straight to Wal Mart.
That is SO wrong. And I'm not just talking about the headbands and slacks (although I could have gone for a picture of those). PINK Terrible Towels? I have an ex-boyfriend rolling over in his ummm chair? So wrong. Wrong.
And my parents are WAYYYYY older than 50.
Red pants with elastic?! How many people are actually watching the girls twirl and how many are really watching the train wreck that is red pants with an elastic waist?!
Hope the chores get done and the party is rockin'!
Oh dear me. Pink? That's just plain wrong.
And elastic waist pants??? HAHAHAHAHA!!!!
OK wow, that's wrong. I will support it forward and backward if Myron Cope's wife or mother had breast cancer but they should never be waved at Heinz Field.
My mom was a twirler and she tried to teach my sister and me but it was all for not. I have zero coordination. And one day I left her baton in the yard and my dad hit it with the lawn mower. She never showed it but I think it broke her heart.
My dad just turned 48. ;-)
-Maria
Girl, I have the cradle robbing Prince job beat hands down. Seriously, it becomes rather amusing most days. Now red slacks with elastic band? I feel a revolt coming on for sure!
A pink towel is possibly the craziest thing I have seen. Someone has gone beyond the dark side for that.
Don't worry - when I was growing up my friends would ask if my dad was my grandfather, 'cause he's had grey hair since he was in mid-30s. Funny, I came along at the age of 38, so maybe that explains it.
Happy Birthday, Mr. B. You don't look a day over 38!
My great grandparents just turned 50.
ha hahahahhahahaha!
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At first I thought you meant haram pants and got a bit worried!
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