that’s enterplainment

Adam Carolla at 107.7 The End's Lonely Hearts ...

Image via Wikipedia

Jerry Seinfeld coined a term on Twitter called  “Enterplaining.” It’s complaining and entertaining at the same time.  Adam Carolla has perfected Enterplaining.  On his podcast, he has a segment called “What can’t Adam complain about?” He’s complained about everything from the lifting of prohibition to his bathrobe belts.

However, in real life, someone who constantly complains is draining. But in entertainment, it’s as funny as all get out. Since I don’t get my complaints out verbally (most of the time), I’ll note them here and hopefully you find them enterplaining:

  • Playground parents obsessed with cleanliness.  If you’re so clean, don’t bother bringing your kids to the park. One mother looked horrified when my barefooted daughter stepped on her blanket.  If you don’t want your kids to play with others, play with the your kid in your own backyard.
  • People who don’t like dogs.  I don’t have an example, I just don’t know how someone could not love a dog unless one mauled them when they were young. Then I’ll give them a pass.
  • Whenever I put a schedule together, I get upset when life messes it up. I know life happens when you’re making other plans, and I don’t know if John Lennon or John Chancellor said that but c’mon! Let something go right at least some of the time.
  • Not knowing what to throw out.  The stuff I do throw out I regret soon after. When we moved, I tossed everything I wrote since college. Granted it wasn’t all Hemingway but every poem and journal got chucked. I also got rid of children’s books that my older daughter grew out of, but my younger one still enjoys. She’s almost 8 and still likes to read from picture books. Bad mom.
  • People who swim backwards in a crowded pool without looking behind,  I know you’ve perfected your back stroke and you like to float, but the bruises on my legs from people slamming into me aren’t going away soon, okay?
  • Driving through gas station lots. Today 3 cars in a row pulled out in front of me like I wore a cloak of invisibility.  Just because I’m driving slow doesn’t mean I’m not here.
  • Books with REALLY LONG acknowledgements, forwards and introductions. Nobody reads the thank yous except for kith and kin and if you forget someone they never forgive you.  Remember when Julia Roberts thanked everyone who worked on the movie Erin Brockovich except Erin Brockovich? Make like an Oscar acceptance speech and keep it short.
  • I also don’t need friends writing your forwards telling us how great you are. The can use it for your eulogy. Lastly, work your introductions into the body of your book because I read at night and I don’t want to fall asleep before the good stuff.  Capiche?
  • Finally, people who complain too much.  Save it for reality television.

selling sugar highs to save the economy

Peanut M&M's

Image via Wikipedia

In Russia, girls in bikinis are washing cars to raise money for Vladimir Putin. What a dedicated group of young women who put their own needs aside to raise money for their shirtless leader?

That got me thinking: how can we as Americans bond together to raise money for our ailing economy?

I’m not sure if there are American bikini-clad girls willing to wash cars to stimulate the economy.  If they do they want a Bravo reality show out of it.

So I think we should fall back on the tried-and-true way of fundraising: selling loads and loads of sugary sweets.  It was wildly successful in my day.  When I was on my pom pon squad in high school, we carried around boxes of M&Ms with our books and sold them in the hallways. Between breakfast and lunch, teens couldn’t resist shelling out a buck for a box of the non-melting candy.

But we can’t do that anymore because schools have banned selling sugar during the school day.  They’ve gone all nutritious on us.  So has Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid.  He’s all like, “I gotta take care of my pomegranate trees,” which is so lame because he’d rather take care of these annoying nutritious treats than figure out how we’re going to get out of debt.

way too healthy (via flickr)

So we can’t sell sweets anymore in school but Washington D.C. has nothing to do with education so I say let interns walk around the White House selling M&Ms every day around 10a.m..

That’s when stomachs are grumbling and they can’t wait for their Satan Sandwich with a side of Satan Fries for lunch.

Let’s sell everything that’s been banned in schools because of sugar content:  bake sales, boxes of toffee, even Girl Scout Cookies! Imagine every February, the girls in their spiffy uniforms traveling from door to door in the Capitol building instead of sitting in front of a grocery stores or risking their lives selling Samoas®, Thin Mints, Do-Si-Dos™, Trefoils, Lemon Chalet Cremes™ and Tagalongs® by the side of the road.

now you're talkin'! (via flickr)

How about a pie-eating contest?  Don’t forget to invite Barney Frank.  What a sight to behold!

Let’s go through the hallways with the candy trolley from the train to Hogwarts and be sure to stock a lot of Pixie Sticks.  Can you imagine President Obama leaning back in his chair pouring one into his mouth?  He might share one with John Boehner but he might have to wait 24 hours before Boehner accepts the invitation.

I wonder what Vice President Biden would do with all that sugar?

He’d probably act like a kindergartener after a birthday party in class:  “Mr. President, Mr. President, Mr. President!  When’s recess?  Is it time to play with Legos now?  how about Tinker Toys?  Lincoln Logs?”

“Not now, Joey,” the President says. “Not ’till you’ve finished balancing the budget.  You can now remove the pencils you’ve thrown into the debt ceiling.”

happy anniversary, mom and dad

Courthouse in Hernando, Mississippi

Image via Wikipedia

Today, August 4, is my parents’ 55th anniversary.  They got married in a Hernando, Mississippi courthouse in 1956 after knowing each other for only 10 days.  55 years later, my dad writes this to his life-long partner:

Ode to My Wife Uva Nell Lassiter-Fortney

by Robert Fortney

A hammer and saw you cannot use

A shirt without buttons you avoid like the flu

For you a road map is shade

but as a Mother you take a back seat to none.

You care for your family and house like they are royalty.

Then you act like we deserve it.

Of course we don’t.

But MOTHERING is something you do.

You cook, clean, pet and soothe our hurts and fears away.

Most of all you love us one and all.

So you are already in the Mother’s Hall of Fame

and at age 76 you have not quit yet!

And as your partner through these years,

I count it an honor and privilege to grow old with you.

As it was in our vows,

“‘Til death do us part,”