Wednesday, July 11, 2012

I hear some rumbling around upstairs and it is exactly 8:53pm, which is a good thing.

Maxwell asked if he could go to an all ages "punk show" and I told him he could, if he was home by 9:00pm.

I know what you are thinking and I normally wouldn't be turning my baby loose in the streets, but this show, was some bands playing in a garage near our house and he was going with friends, and it was outside, and it's still light out.

I also happen to know a thing or two about punk shows that start at 7:00 and I knew that he would be well clear from any illicit activity before a guitar string was plucked, if he came home at 9:00.

Sadly, this meant disappointing him, as the band, as predicted, in my evil mind, didn't even start, by the time he left.

So he is stomping around upstairs being disappointed, and I feel not one bit bad, since he is going to fly to San Diego in the morning to meet his father at Comic Con, and get a great  open access pass, because he is lucky enough to have a father that works in the industry, while I stay home doing laundry and entertaining a seven year old and nursing a elderly poodle with an bum leg.

Mark is already there, and while I get that it is work and long hours, it still beats the hell out of what I will be up to for the next five days.

I am reading Please Kill me, which is a nice walk down memory lane and makes me feel like an old lady waving a cane on the inside.

I just hate popular culture these days.




And most young people piss me off.  Hate them too. I was in a meeting tonight where a gal in her 20's insinuated that I was racist because I said that we can't allow the children to give each other Indian Burns.
She is one of those uber-earnest vegan Portland types that makes you feel like you are living in an episode of Portlandia.  I felt like dope slapping her and saying

"listen here sister, I am old enough to be your mother, and despite the fact that to you I look like a frowzy old white lady I have a degree in WOMEN'S STUDIES and I have about 10000000000 hours of sensitivity training and anti-oppression training, and diversity training  so shut the hell up and the next time you see a child in this school twisting another child's arm in a manner that rubs the skin raw, I suggest you interrupt it regardless of what you call it!"

but instead I said "yes, Indian burns are bad on a number of levels." 

1 comment:

  1. What an idiot!
    I don't really think this is a sacred Native American custom.