The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.
In the rare case I was letting hordes of readers down (particularly those I don’t see face-to-face regularly), rest assured I’ve got a bunch of good posts in store.
I had to work full-time this week, which, if you follow my Twitter, was far too much exposure to 12-year-olds to last me a lifetime. I’ve always said I love kids but never want to have them, and I sure as hell am glad there’s something I haven’t changed my mind about. Let me go down on record stating that I now understand the logic behind boarding schools. And hysterectomies.
(I just spelt “hysterectomies” right on my first try without the aid of spellcheck!)
On that note, I’d like to extend my sympathies to any adult who has ever had to:
#1. hear their child use the word “sexy” for the first time
#2. notice a hike in skirt-wearing, and hikes in the skirts themselves
#3. unwillingly had their ears pick up hormone-fueled monologues describing the Jonas Brothers/*NSYNC/BSB/New Kids on the Block
#4. hear the same kind of monologues about Aaron Carter/5ive/LFO/98 Degrees, because those fools were always second-string anyway, the-poor-man’s popstar, if you will (don’t)
I don’t know how many times I’ve had to make clear this week
“Listen, I remember what it’s like to be 12, so I know you think you’re cool with all your dirty jokes, so keep on sharing them, just not when I can hear.”
You got tween girls giggling because they think they’re being sly by calling a penis “beef”, as if I wasn’t a goddamn thesaurus on the subject. And other subjects. I’m not a whoresies?
Anyway, it took zen-master-grade discipline to not challenge them with a loud declaration of
“Shut it, beef curtains”
What’s worse is they probably would have been more likely to barrage me with questions about it rather than actually shutup.
If you feel like you need a drink after reading this, I’ve done my job.
