The Lament of the Old

The old folk, they tell me about how they used to run and play outside. "Don't come in until dinner is ready." They played, and imagined, and threw rocks, and accidentally hit baseballs into the crotchety neighbor's windows. They skinned their knees. They blew up toy soldiers. They made crowns out of flowers.

"Kids these days. Ugh. It's just the end of the world. The end of America!" they say.

"Kids these days. They just sit in front of their televisions or their laptops or their iMajiggers. They're soft. The schools spend so much time worrying about their precious self esteem that they don't bother to teach 'em. Everyone wins, everyone's special? They're fat and lazy. They don't know the value of hard work. They're spoiled. America is going down the tubes."

Oh, the lament of the Old.

So, I come bearing this tidbit of good news. Take heart! (Take pacemaker?) A time may come were we all press 8 for English, and when our children are too lardy to run the kickball bases without a 15 minute union break.

But that day is not today!

A time may come when Ronald McDonald is the write-in winner for the Presidency. A time may come when the leading injury in children in carpel tunnel syndrome from countless hours of button mashing on the latest video game. It may someday come to pass that it is considered a form of abuse to ban your 7 year old from Facebook.

But that day is not today!

A time may come when public the school systems limit outdoor recess time to a four second glimpse out the window. There may come a day when not one child in our country knows what it feels like to catch a pop fly in a well worn baseball mitt... until the wii comes out with an "Authentic Feel Baseball Mitt" attachment.

But that day is not today.
Of this, I am certain.

At this very moment Bae and Phoenix are leaping about the in backyard. They are armed with one shield, a plastic light saber, a felt centurion helmet, and what appears to be a glow-in-the-dark scythe. They've decimated entire ranks of Bad Guys. They've fought zombies. They've been firefighter, cops, and space pirates. They fought off powerful spells.

They're fighting for good, they're fighting for justice, and they are unknowingly fighting to preserve your Norman Rockwellian ideals of American children. They will fight to the end, or until dinner time when they're called back into the house.

They are stalwart defenders of the-

Oh, wait. And now, they are digging up worms in a surprisingly elaborate plan to catch a robin.

Rest easy, septuagenarians. There are still kids with scraped knees and intact innocence. There are still water balloons, cap guns, superheroes, and the integrity of children who know they're "it" when they've been tagged. Your world is still alive, hidden in the tall grass of my back yard. Your games are still being played. You laughs are still being laughed. Your childhood is still being lived by a new generation of bright-eyed kids. And your nation's future is safe in their dirty, worm-scooping hands.

Not a baby goose. That other kind of Gosling.

Maybe I'm just too far to the right on the Kinsey Scale to appreciate this Ryan Gosling chap. Because I think he looks kind of like a dingus. But seeing all of those "Hey, girl." images was insightful, even if it did result in me repeatedly asking myself what women could possible see in this guy.

I mean hell, he doesn't even have a decent mustache.

There's a sadness in his eyes, leading me to believe
that this shot was taken moments after he realized
he'd never be half the man Tom Selleck is.

I'm pretty sure that I could grow a better mustache, honestly. Annnnyway. These "hey girl" posters read like a letter of desperation from an entire generation of straight women craving a man who:

1. has the ability to do things without being asked.
2. knows how to build/make things.
3. is good to children and animals.
4. listens.
5. is clean and well dressed.
6. is complimentary and romantic.

Hey, guess what, Normal Man. You're in luck! You, too, can attain meme-worthy status. It's easy! Just do things, make stuff, care, listen, bathe, and take your attempts at romance beyond poking your lover in the back with your erection while she's trying to sleep.

So what the gist of this Hey Girl meme is saying is that a man should be self-reliant, capable, compassionate, respectful, and romantic if he wants to represent himself as a good dating selection?! Shocking.

Yet, taking a look at My Very Worst Date, OKCupid, some of the men I know, I realize I should start teaching a class or something. The class material would be so simple to compile. It's all just common sense. The title, on the other hand, could be tricky.

Maybe:

"How to Be More Like Ryan Gosling: Refrain From Referencing Your Boner In Pick-Up Lines, and Other Useful Dating Tips"
or
"How to Be More Like Ryan Gosling: Building Bookshelves, Making Dinner, and Actually Getting Laid (Without Paying For It!)"
or
"The Gosling Technique: Self-Reliance and its Aphrodisiac Effect on Women"
or
"Hey Girl is Not Your Maid, Not Your Mommy: The Gosling Transformation"

Hmm, what do you think?

Parenting Tip

When you really want your children to take a nap, make important plans that you're looking forward to. Without fail, they'll be in a deep sleep for no apparent reason right when you need them to get situated so you can get going.

Need them to wake up in a jiffy? Plan instead to have a long hot uninterrupted bath, or a few minutes to share with a glass of wine and a book. Better yet, plan on some sexytime. The second you're up for gettin' down, they'll burst from the depths of their slumber completely unprovoked.

Foolproof.

Get down. Get funky.

Sometimes I clean my house while loudly singing songs from Disney's Mulan soundtrack.

Now is about to be one of those times.

Emergency

I'm having a pretty serious crisis of identity right about now.

I pride myself on being a minimalist. I like small, simple, straightforward, non-name brand, repurposed, hand crafted, all natural, homegrown, and so on and so on. I might legally change my middle name to "Frugal". I thrift shop, consign, and bargain hunt. Where some boast about how expensive and luxurious their latest purchases are, I instead excitedly boast about my new sweater that I scored for $0.73, a dazzling hippie skirt for $2.50, or my homemade laundry detergent that saves $0.14 per load. I make broke look good, make healthy very affordable, and make ritzy and glam look chintzy and tawdry. I pinch pennies like old ladies pinch fat babies' cheeks, which is to say lovingly.

And yet here I am. Possessed.

I need more socks. More Sock Dreams socks.

Sweet mother of Pete, am I about to purchase something for full price?! SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK!