Everyone knows that I am really a robot running perpetual Pollyanna programming. But once in a while, I have one of those days, weeks, months, years, f*@ing decades, when I need an update or six for my reframing module, and there’s no IT guy in sight. Yes, of course I have to do my own IT. I have to do my own everything.
So.
Dear Art History Students who decided to contract the Test Day Flu this morning: You missed a life-changing lecture on art and forgery and the nature of the real, spearheaded by a discussion of the Getty Kouros (as made famous to the non Classical world by Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink, a little gem of popular science). You don’t feel good enough to take a slide quiz? Well I don’t feel good enough to let you make it up either. I quit. Go complain to your Department Chair. Oh wait, that’s ME! Sucks to be you, lazy students.
Dear Progeny of Mine who cannot be in the car together for more than five minutes without erupting into screams that make a Japanese horror flick seem tame by comparison: No, you cannot ever have computer time again. Not ever. Your “I love to fart on you” song may seem whimsical or even clever to you, my dear seven year old. But it makes me want to throttle you. And you, the 11 year old in the back, if you even touch your brother again, I will call your parole officer. I quit! Let the state take care of you and your compulsive inability to stop poking people.
And five year old, please only cry like that if you are facing imminent death—not if you drop your lollipop on the car floor, where it joins a two year food supply of discarded candy, fruit snacks, and cracker crumbs. Believe me, life will throw you much tougher challenges, and at this rate, you will be nothing but a fluffy cheerleader who drops the ball at the first sign of a chipped manicure.
Finally, Mr. Teen Hero in the front seat, blasting your music through your Skullcandies, if you take the name of Our Lord in vain one more time, I will tell all your facebook friends that you are really listening to Justin Bieber instead of Linkin Park. I mean it. Oh sure, you say “Jesus Christ…is my savior.” But you damn well better say it like you mean it!
[PollyannaPrograms is asking for permission to update your files…Accept…]
[PollyannaPrograms is asking for permission to update your files…Accept…]
Oh my! Today was such a lovely day! I spent the morning in class discussing one of my absolute favorite topics, art, forgery, and the nature of the real. The afternoon was pure quality time with the kiddos—they are real charmers, and so clever! They love to compose songs in the car, my middle sons are so affectionate with each other, my daughter knows that lollipops are not good for her, and my oldest is really developing a meaningful relationship with Jesus. I just don’t have the time to be negative. I quit being a Debbie Downer. I’m back to being everybody’s sunshine gal!
3 comments:
you talk about the nature of the real so i gather that this is Swiftian and folks have trouble understanding irony-is that right? i get it i guess, you're a good writer. thanks for, as they say, thanks for sharing. what step are you on?
You are such a gifted writer. I keep on copying and pasting your text to my sister -- that way it all stays in my email too.
Thank God I don't have children.
wow. change the sex to all girls...are you sure you're not raising my kids??
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