A cutlass and a cougar
This weekend, I experienced how the other half lives. Twice, actually.First, I took TheBoy and TheGirl to a birthday party for one of his classmates and was reminded, yet again, that we are the white trash family of his swanky Spanish immersion private school. The gathering was at the local rich folks' athletic club. The 15 or so kids spent the first hour playing in two of those giant, blow up get-in-and-jump-around-until-you-puke contraptions that you see at carnivals and county fairs. Two of them, each the height of a small building. Then we went down to the club restaurant for a burrito bar, wings, salad, cake, ice cream, cupcakes and assorted other goodies. (For those of you who haven't ever been to a 4-year-old's birthday party, the basic menu usually looks like this: Cold cheese pizza. Cake. Go home now.) The best/worst part: The girls received Hello Kitty goody bags. The boys got plastic swords. Which led to an immediate sword fight. As I was leaving, the mother of the birthday girl apologized: "Please don't hate me for the swords." Spoken like the parent of a little girl who wanted nothing but princess toys for her big day.
The lesson: We are the hippie, peacenik parents who don't give their kids weapons and don't realize you're suppposed to wear makeup to little guy/girl birthday parties.
The other bit of culture shock came later that day, when we dumped TheBoy on a babysitter and headed over to an actual adult dinner party. Our host was a lovely college friend of Judy's who hunts and fishes when she's not saving the world. Three or four times a year, she invites her friends over and serves all the stuff she's caught. On the menu this time: Lots of Maker's Mark, a few vegetarian-friendly salads and meat. Lots of meat. Goose, deer, crab, salmon, the best lamb I've ever tasted and cougar. Yes, cougar. Like the cat. Meow.
The lesson: Adults without children do have more fun. At least, fun with other adults. And ... cougar tastes a lot like groundbeef.
(Which makes me think of an A1 commercial gone bad: "It's not chopped steak, it's chopped house cat.")
posted by AnnaRay at 9:53 AM
15 Comments:
Yes, but you are very intelligent and educated white trash. That makes you gentile poor rather than just white trash.
OK, so my motto is "you can take the trash out of the trailer but you cant take the trailer out of the trash". I come from rural poor, poverty on one side, and wear my ugly-ass green John Deer hat with pride to private school events. Fukkum.
Now, "Gentile poor" seems like a phrase from the department of redundancy department. Who ever heard of "Poor Jewish Trash"?
True. We only have rich Jewish trash: the folks who get a live elephant to greet folks as they enter Tavern On
The Green for the safari-themed bar mitzvah party.
Ummm...your friend hunts lamb?
I'm not sure where the lamb came from. But in my mind, yes, she hunts baby sheep. With a bow and arrow. Or maybe just her bare hands.
Hey, we're the genteel poor of our preschool too! I just realized this since dropping off the forms for the school fundraiser at a GIGANTIC house near our tiny apartment, to find out that the dad wrote several recent Hollywood blockbusters, including "The Ring." Creepy-ass mofo makes me hustle to raise donations just so he doesn't have to pay more than $225/mo for childcare. Crazy.
And I think I would have gone nutso at your carnivorepalooza-- never in my life have I craved meat more than while nursing.
Here's what I crave: FOOOOOOD. Meat food. Tofu food. Cookie food. The only thing I crave more is sleep.
damnit, i gotta get me some cougar.
Sorry.
I fell in to the white trash thing.
Hey, speaking of which, I just found out that my lovely neighborhood pub that I loved so much is not a friendly place to take my black friends. A little part of me (the happily buzzing part often see on Friday around 10pm) died this weekend upon that realization.
I have always thought you should raise your kids believing you have less than you actually do. Thus, the elephant greeting bar-mitzvah thing is just a case of "Look at me! I've arrived!!!" The kid doesn't get any real benefit from such extravagance, other than to foster insecurity (if our party is less than, people will think we are less than.)That sort of thing is for people who lack confidence and, most of all,imagination. IMHO, only trashy folk throw those super sweet 16 type parties. It is like they have one toe out of wherever they are trying to escape from, and they want to make sure you know thay do not belong THERE anymore. To end my rant, everyone KNOWS that the way to develop a kid's sense of humor/sense of self/sense of humility/decency is to leave him wanting...just a little. It builds a decent character!!!!
PS- fostering insecurity is NOT something good. I realize that in the last post, I sort of left a sentence without enough editing.
Fostering insecurity is bad? Ooops. I have already advised our cats that they would be delicious with some Hamburger Helper.
Thanks, Brian. Now I've got the Hamburger Helper song in my head.
Sing it with me, kids:
Hamburger helper helps her hamburger help her ...
Make a great meal!
Now I have it stuck in MY HEAD. Great!
There is always the Chicketa Banana song. Ever hear Pig and Mouse sing it. Ask them sometime. It's kinda cute. Good for cocktail parties.
Oh, and Miss Anna: Please do not think I missed the automotive reference made in this post's title. Very cute. Miss L-N, I have indeed heard the Chiquita Banana song, though not from the mouths of your folks. I will have to request that at some point! The worst thing to have stuck in one's head HAS TO BE "the Lion Sleeps Tonight." Let's all think about that for awhile!
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