You don't eat or sleep or mow the lawn
Post 1 of 40 in my 40/40 Vision series -- shit that is related to me turning 40 this January. Some of the linkages are gonna be a real stretch, and some of the posts are gonna be real small ...
So I'm volunteering at my kid's school this morning, and I'm going around to the desks distributing photocopied items to be used in a Hanukkah collage* while the kids are sitting on the carpet listening to the teacher reading a book on the history and significance of the holiday; at the end of each page, the kids are joining in as he sings another of the many verses of the Dreidel Song.
And I am fucking DYING INSIDE, trying not to sing the South Park version of the song out loud. DYING. I'm like Roger Rabbit when the bad guy is trying to draw him out of hiding by knocking on the wall with "shave and a haircut ..." and RR eventually bursts out with "Six biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiits!" In my head I'm doing each of the parts (Cartman: "Jews ... play stupid games ... Jews ... that's why they're lame!"; Gerald: "Court-ney Cox, I love you, you're so hot, on that show," etc.) I can't make eye contact with anyone, especially not this earnest, pop-culture-illiterate guy who most certainly would not be amused by my shenanigans. But I am a goddamn grown-up, addressed universally in this context as RoomMom, and so. I. don't. sing it out loud.
Maturity. Even when it almost bursts my spleen.
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*Pause to note, with pride, that there is a lesson on Hanukkah at this school, a public elementary; in my day, not one single one of us small-town mainstream-Protestant Texass Kindergartners had ever even heard the word. California/2013 FTW!
So I'm volunteering at my kid's school this morning, and I'm going around to the desks distributing photocopied items to be used in a Hanukkah collage* while the kids are sitting on the carpet listening to the teacher reading a book on the history and significance of the holiday; at the end of each page, the kids are joining in as he sings another of the many verses of the Dreidel Song.
And I am fucking DYING INSIDE, trying not to sing the South Park version of the song out loud. DYING. I'm like Roger Rabbit when the bad guy is trying to draw him out of hiding by knocking on the wall with "shave and a haircut ..." and RR eventually bursts out with "Six biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiits!" In my head I'm doing each of the parts (Cartman: "Jews ... play stupid games ... Jews ... that's why they're lame!"; Gerald: "Court-ney Cox, I love you, you're so hot, on that show," etc.) I can't make eye contact with anyone, especially not this earnest, pop-culture-illiterate guy who most certainly would not be amused by my shenanigans. But I am a goddamn grown-up, addressed universally in this context as RoomMom, and so. I. don't. sing it out loud.
Maturity. Even when it almost bursts my spleen.
----------------------------------
*Pause to note, with pride, that there is a lesson on Hanukkah at this school, a public elementary; in my day, not one single one of us small-town mainstream-Protestant Texass Kindergartners had ever even heard the word. California/2013 FTW!
Labels: 40/40, balls in YOUR mouth sir, clean livin, cryin' amazacrazy, fuckyeahbeingagrownup, I really am sort of an asshole sometimes, The Californians, they ain't takin the TEE-vee
posted by Gleemonex at 12:25 PM
1 Comments:
i'm cracking up!
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