Freddie Vs Spider - Putting my Halloween decorations away. I got distracted and made this little movie. http://cameo.tv/c/Z9rXNRJF
THE PERFECT PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR UNRULY TEEN
I’ve become a fan of the parental shaming going on around the internet. It’s quite amusing. Did you hear about the Dad who wore Miley Cyrus short shorts to protest his daughter’s fashion choices? Or the mom who made her two children wear an extra large shirt only to place them both inside of it so they learned to get along? Then posting it on the internet? Such creativity! Who cares about the long term effects of them functioning as a normal adult, right?
I think my husband and I would have a more subtle approach with just a hint of shaming. This is how we plan to punish our future teenagers:
Boring family activities. I’m not talking about fishing or mini golf. Nay. The activities with which we’d facilitate are activities that geriatric Mid-Westerners would get a kick out of. Caught skipping class? I’m reading Shakespeare to you outside of a bowling alley. Lied to your parents? Time to go antique shopping with your dad. Got a D on that report card? Well you know what that means…Saddle up in the Tahoe, kids! We’re all going glass-blowing in our Western Wear!
See? Subtle, boring & effective. They’ll never defy me again.
I hail from a family of weird sleepers. Bedtime habits and insomnia run rampant on the Howard side. My Dad has insomnia, I have insomnia, my sister is completely nocturnal where she works until 3 am and wakes up whenever she damn well pleases. My Grandmother also had insomnia and she would bounce around her house trying to fall asleep in different rooms. From Master Bedroom to Guest Room to Living Room Couch to TV Room Couch. When I would spend the night at her house, it kept me awake. So it’s official: The Howards are terrible sleepers but when we DO fall asleep, we have extremely vivid dreams.
I am no exception. Two nights ago, I had the strangest dream. It was filled with many famous celebrities. It was so strange that I HAD to share. Here it goes…
ACT I - The first part of my dream. My husband and I were in Downtown LA driving around. All of a sudden, we spot Selena Gomez and Ashley Tisdale driving in a black Lincoln Town Car. I can’t explain why I was dreaming about those two because their fan base is primarily made up of adolescent / teenage girls. They are talented ladies but the only way I’ve seen anything they’ve been in is by accident. Anyway, we decide to follow Gomez & Tisdale. They hop out of their Town Car and bolt into a parking structure. My husband and I decide to take over the abandoned Town Car and follow them into the structure, all the way up to the roof. We pull up under the right wing of their Leer Jet and there is an impromptu rooftop concert (you know, the kind of hipster concert no one knows about that you see in a T-Mobile commercial). Then the British band One Direction jumps out of the Leer Jet to join the ladies in song (again, why am I dreaming of Tween entertainers?!) All of a sudden, I have a silver Para Ordnance P14-45 in my hand. That’s fancy talk for “a very pretty silver gun”. It’s big and it looks like something James Bond would carry. I freak out because I shouldn’t be holding a gun while there are people singing songs I genuinely hate. I just might do something rash. Jeff tells me to hide the gun so I simply put it under my thigh. But then their bodyguard takes the gun away from me. Their bodyguard happens to be Jonathan Banks. Mr. Banks is actually an actor who plays “Mike” from BREAKING BAD. He is intimidating so I quickly give up the gun to him. I freak out so we speed away in our stolen Town Car. (Again people, this is a DREAM. It’s not real so don’t go calling FBI on me).
As I type this, I’m thinking, "Wow, my imagination is vivid!"
ACT II - Flash forward to the second part of my dream. I’m at a bridal shower filled with women I don’t know and let me tell you, it is a FANCY bridal shower. It’s in the common room of a pink French chateau. The linens are pink, the chairs are pink, we’re even all in pink dresses. Since I don’t know anyone at this party, I feel very self-conscious. All the ladies are whispering about me and I am feeling extremely uncomfortable. The bride then stands up and says, “Let’s go! We don’t want to be seen with HER!” The ladies all laugh and leave me sitting at the pink table, crying. The only person left sitting there is Christina Hendricks. Ms. Hendricks plays “Joan” on MAD MEN. Christina is looking stoic and calm as she does with her character on MAD MEN… but she’s in a life-size Barbie doll box. At this point I am balling my eyes out, completely hurt by those mean women. She calmly turns to me and says, “My dear Lauren. Don’t worry your little head about them. All you have to do is let your personality shine through. That is true beauty.” Christina then closes her eyes like a robot and goes to sleep in her Barbie box. I instantly stop crying and take her Miss America advice to heart.
As I type this, I’m thinking, "Wow! My imagination is a little crazy!"
ACT III - Flash forward to the third part of my dream. I’m at the Playboy Mansion. Everything going on is exactly what you would think goes on at the Playboy Mansion. Females running around the pool in next to nothing, drinking pretty cocktails over petty conversation. I look to the Grotto and there is Jimmy Fallon sitting on a rock, surrounded by a gaggle of Playboy Bunnies. He’s charming the G-strings off of them with his devilish smile and wit. I get angry because I know he is a married man with a new baby girl (Winnie). All of a sudden, I make his personal life my personal business and march over to him. I grab him by the wrist and drag him to a Mexican Restaurant (yes, there is an on-site Mexican Restaurant at the Playboy Mansion. There isn’t really but my imagination seems to think so). I sit him down in a booth and we share a plate of enchiladas. It’s just a meal between friends, nothing romantic. They are platonic enchiladas. Then it dawns on me that I’m sitting in a booth with Jimmy F*cking Fallon and he was on my all-time favorite show SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE! Now is my chance to impress him and ask him all sorts of SNL questions. I go to open my mouth, and all I can do is quote LITTLE BRITAIN (a British sketch comedy show). Not only am I quoting LITTLE BRITAIN, I’m quoting only David Walliams’ characters (Mr. Walliams is the tall guy from the British sketch show). No matter how hard I try to go back to Jimmy’s characters, I can only quote David’s. Completely insulted, he slams his napkin on the table and leaves me alone with our platonic enchiladas. I blew it. End of Dream.
As I type this, I’m concluding, "Wow! My imagination is extremely f*cked up!"
Where does this dream leave me? Half the people from my dream are on the Netflix queue I’m currently watching, MAD MEN & BREAKING BAD. Ironically, both are AMC shows. As for David Walliams, Jimmy Fallon, Ashely Tisdale, Selena Gomez, One Direction, and the platonic enchiladas, I have no explanation for them.
Where does this leave you? Probably re-thinking our friendship. What if you never met me? Now you probably don’t want to.
P.S. What is more weird? My dream or the fact that I Googled “Jimmy Fallon Enchiladas” and an actual photo with Jimmy Fallon next to a plate of enchiladas came up? I’d say the photo. I guess I’m not the only weird one in the world.