Saturday, June 15, 2013
"My kids are going to be revolting little mess makers again, the darlings- better get some more Bounty!"
Someday, someone will make a commercial which convinces me that I really missed out by never having kids.
That commercial will NOT feature a zombie MommyWife who remembers that she has a nest of out of control spawn at home waiting to throw food against windows (seriously- she imagines this happening, and I can only assume that she's seen this before in real life and fully expects to see it again) and doing all kinds of stupid, disgusting things which make messes because after all Kids Will Be Kids, which in TV land means Kids Will Be Assholes Who Have Not Been Taught To Behave, but only that Mommy Will Be There With Bounty Paper Towels to Clean Up After Them.
In other words, this commercial does not bring me even a tiny little baby step toward regretting having any of these noisy, nasty little urchins. Back to the drawing board, Bounty.
*I didn't pick up at first that in this case, the purchase of paper towels is triggered by the announcement that MommyWife's inlaws are "bringing the twins." First- I can't even begin to describe how much I loathe the term "The Twins." Twins are individual humans who happen to be born of the same mother a short time apart. They are given names and are generally expected to grow up to be separate, unique human beings. "The Twins" makes them sound like they are conjoined, one Unit which must always be taken as one Unit. That's lazy, obnoxious and just plain bullshit, ok?
Second, it's strongly implied here that Doofus Dad expected his brother to show up- but not bring his kids? What were they supposed to do- was it assumed that The Twins would be staying with brother's wife? Why does it come as a surprise that brother is bringing The Twins? Was it assumed that brother wanted to get away from the little monsters for an afternoon?
Third, "my brother is bringing the twins" sets off a momentary panic, because both Doofus Dad and MommyWife know that this means horrible behavior and lots of mess. to be dealt with by packing in extra paper towels (and, presumably, a few bottles of Tide and Shout.) Here's a better idea- call Doofus Dad's brother and let him know that his untrained dickweed little demons aren't welcome at your house, and that stands as long as he refuses to do a little parenting. Seems pretty damned simple to me.
Well, look at that. I managed to more than double the size of this post. Sometimes rants are good things.