message from my old coat pocket
MYSTERIES OF SPORTS
Is fighting allowed in hockey or not? There are always fights, and referees always skate around these fights with looks of concern on their faces, as if they are about to break up the fight any minute now. People occasionally get thrown out or penalized for fighting, but not really according to any system I can discern. Wikipedia refers to a “complex system of unwritten rules,” which makes me angry (sports have rules, damn it! written ones!), but it also says stuff about having to take off your gloves, no weapons allowed, etc, that actually are in the rule book.
Let it be known that that Mimi Smartypants is a football fan and does not care for gray areas. I like instant replay and challenge calls and complex (WRITTEN!) rule books that cover every possible happening. Pedantry defeats ambiguity, every time!
MEANINGLESS CONFESSIONS
1. Not a big Mission of Burma fan. You could look at the map of my musical preferences and conclude that I would be, but they somehow have always failed to please me.
2. I have consistently said “no thanks” to requests to chaperone Nora’s field trips, even when they were on days I was working from home and could have arranged it. No, I don’t want to ride a school bus and attempt to corral the first grade, I just don’t. This school has plenty of eager-beaver parents for the trips, and I do step up for the occasional lunch-supervision gig, so there is my justification.
3. I cringe when I hear cutesy abbreviations like “veggies” or any one of the horrible slang terms for “pregnant” (preggers, preggo).
4. Sometimes, for no reason whatsoever, I make things cheaper in conversation than they actually were. If I am showing LT something I bought on sale, I might lower the purchase price by a few bucks. I have no idea why I do this. We make nearly the same amount of money (and we don’t keep score like that anyway, we just have “shared money” and discuss big purchases beforehand). I also tend to philosophically “cheapen” my purchases even when dollar amounts are not discussed. For instance, if someone compliments me on my sweater, I will reply, “Thanks! It’s from Target” (if it was). But I would never say, “Thanks! It’s from Neiman Marcus” (even if it was). Do I need financial/mental therapy?
5. I really like vintage (pre-1950, at least) porn and nude photos, mostly because everyone looks so cheerful. I also cherish 1890s blowjob photos, the ones where the guy is sitting in a chair with his head down and his hand to his forehead. I think this is a posing convention meant to conceal the blowjob receiver’s identity, but I just like it because it looks like he is despairing. Oh jeez not ANOTHER blowjob.
SHOPPING LIST
The last time I was at Target a woman and her daughter, who looked to be about three years old, were shopping near me in the grocery section and the mom said, “Okay, we’re almost done! We just need rum and heavy cream.” The girl started chanting “rum and heavy cream, rum and heavy cream” and I had to admit it was catchy. Also, what a combination of items! It sounds like an old-fashioned remedy for something. “Take an ounce of rum and heavy cream for every hour you’ve been awake.” An old-fashioned remedy for sobriety! And calcium deficiency!
WARNING: INDELICATE TOPIC HERE
I am going to tell a kid-story that is out of character for me, since it involves intestinal gas, which is something I do not mention ever. I will discuss vintage blowjob photos all day long but I am a total prude when it comes to flatulence. It’s weird. I know.
However, I was brushing my hair in the bathroom one morning when Nora showed up all sleepy and naked, eyes half-closed and lovely, and she hugged me and did her toilet-business and said, “I had a deep fart in my bed. It sounded like a lonely boat on a dark ocean. Or like a low tuba.”
There was no boasting, no frat-boy snickering, just wonderment and earnestness and wanting to urgently inform someone else of her (butt-related) experience. It was weirdly touching. I do wish she had been that poetic about something other than farts, but this is parenthood: you take what they give you.
Enough. I am off to the DEEP SOUTH very soon. I am bringing my cute little red netbook, so perhaps I will liveblog the airport or something equally dull. I bet you can’t wait.
—mimi smartypants is sold by weight, not by volume.