Friday, February 20, 2009
You see I know a Stepford Mommy who has had that happen. Her last three nannies/housekeepers/indentured servants were all named Jacinta. These three (unfortunate if you ask me) women came from different parts of the world and yet all shared this one name.
Jacinta the first, as we shall call her, was a very nice lady. She was a bit older but was able to keep up with our Stepford Mommy's three young daughters pretty well until the arrival of baby number 4. That was just too much for Jacinta the first and so she hopped the first train out of town.
Of course our Mommy was distraught. Calls were made and lo and behold! Who arrives on the doorstep but Jacinta the second. An odd coincidence considering that Jacinta the second was from Brazil not Florida like Jacinta the first- but nonetheless our Mommy was saved!
For about one week. Poor Jacinta the second was no match for those four adorable little blessings (or maybe it was the one Mommy- who knows?) So despite offerings of riches and even a car, Jacinta the second hit the road as well.
Finding Jacinta the third took a bit longer. This time our Mommy (and the agency placing all of the Jacinta's) wanted to be sure that the proper match was made. They needed someone who had been through rigorous training- perhaps the Israeli army even. Someone who wouldn't be put off by our Mommy's shrill voice or frequent rants- perhaps someone hard of hearing. Someone who had boundless energy so that she could not only keep up with the children but simultaneously clean, cook and carpool- because our Mommy is busy enough keeping herself entertained and can't do any of the above.
And were these prayer's answered? Yes they were. And I'm happy to announce that as far a I know, Jacinta the third is still alive, well and living in her cramped nanny quarters in Stepford. But the funny thing is that Jacinta the third (and Jacinta the second come to think of it) they don't ever refer to themselves as Jacinta. For some odd reason when they introduce themselves they use some sort of code or nanny pen-names like Maria or Sara. It's really quite odd. Almost as strange as employing three Jacintas in a row. . .
Monday, February 16, 2009
Guess what I said? Fantastic! Grab your stuff- it's time to go!!
Ok, so maybe they're not following me but they are showing up wherever I am so you make the call. . .
Saturday, February 14, 2009
But then I remembered one of the wackiest Stepford Mommies ever. She was a very nice woman- rail thin; beautiful natural blonde hair; gorgeous home; athletic; funny and as nutty as a fruitcake. This woman walked around everywhere with a plastic bag full of parsley and she would proceed to eat it all day long. I don't mean a nibble here and there- this lady spent her entire day eating parsley like it was popcorn.
To make matters worse, she would go through 'spells' of extreme exhaustion (probably due to malnutrition) and she would be forced to call the Stepford Police Department to pick up her kids from the Stepford Country Club and deliver them home because she just was not able to do it herself. And you know what? They did pick up her kids and drive them home like a law enforcement cabbie service and they didn't even arrest her for being a loon.
Only in Stepford.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
So, I thought I'd toss together a list of reasons I love the dump.
6. They have an amazing recycling facility. I'm not the world's greenest person but I'm trying
5. They have a swap area where people leave very nice stuff for others to take. I once got a great shop vac there.
4. They have a book swap area too. I have to admit some of them are a little funky but its a great place for people who collect National Geographics (which I don't but my little brother did for years) because somebody's always dropping off their old discarded collection.
3. They compost all of the plant material that is left at the dump and give it away free so I can have compost for my garden without all the work. :)
2. They provide all the salted sand you can shovel in the winter. That is certainly easier than buying expensive bags of ice melt.And the absolute number one reason:
You will never, never, never run into a Stepford Mommy at the Dump.
Anyway, I'm now faced with the fact that my already hectic day must now include an unplanned trip to the grocer. "So what" you ask? "Big deal!" you say. Well you have obviously never experienced (cue the big booming voice over. . .) The Stepford Supermarket Runway Fashion Show show show. Perhaps there is some reason for it, but I have to say I've never come close to understanding why a person would go to that kind of effort to buy bread.
I'm talking full make up, manicured nails, hair blown out and styled, fancy schmancy shoes and the kind of clothes you have to dry clean. I don't even own any 'dry clean only' clothes anymore. . . Again I ask- is anyone expecting the President to drop by for cold cuts? Will the Pope be making an appearance in the Frozen Food aisle? I didn't think so.
So, that's whats facing me as I stumble in the door and slink through the produce section trying very hard not to be noticed. Why bother? They're not going to be seen talking to me anyway but I'd rather not get "the look" when really what I need is cat food. The whole scene is almost as uncomfortable as whats coming next. The un-needed help that is about to be thrust upon me.
For some reason the supermarket in Stepford has grocery assistants. Now I don't mean the nice men and women who bag your stuff as you check out. They have those too but there is also a secondary level of assistance. They actually employ people to assist you with your shopping even after you've checked out. And if you think i'm kidding I assure you that I am not.
The Stepford Mommies have already done their allotted work for the day in collecting all of these groceries in the cart. They can HARDLY be expected to put them into bags, push the cart out to the Mercedes and put the bags into the back all by themselves can they? Of course not! The housekeeper will unload the groceries when she get's home but how the hell is she supposed to get them home?? Thank God for the Grocery Assistants.
My problem is that I only have a 5 pound bag of kibble and I don't even have a cart. I don't even need a bag for goodness sake! But still I am absolutely bowled over with "oh no ma'am's" and "please let me get that for you's" and I'm on the hook. They will not allow me to leave this store unless someone is trailing behind me carrying the cat chow.
Ok, I realize that this service creates jobs so I'll play along even though I find the whole thing humiliating. But what gets me is the big "It is our honor to serve you so please no tipping" sign I have to walk under as I lead my temporary servant out to my car. This store will absolutely not allow you to tip or treat these assistants like humans in any way. I've given up trying to walk next to them or make small talk. Apparently, like tipping, they've been trained to refuse any morsel of friendliness or kindness.
So, needless to say, the very long walk back to my car is excruciatingly uncomfortable. Why the long walk you ask? Well I always park as far away as possible because Stepford Mommies are horrible drivers- but that's another story.
Monday, February 9, 2009
There is obviously some sort of pecking order because immediately upon switching into park the subordinate mommies jump out of their cars (and are nearly hit by other mommies who either can't see over the dashboard or really just don't care) and they do the "preppy jog" over to the driver window's of the superior mommies for a little chat. The superior mommies roll down the window and hold court. They're not getting out for anyone-including their kids! Regardless if little Lance or Emma is stumbling under the weight of his 40 pound backpack. . .
Anyway, it's really quite a sight. I'm sure there are anthropology PhD candidates out there looking for a good dissertation topic and the ritualistic behaviour of the Stepford Mommy would make a great one! All the danger of studying a pride of lions without the trip to Africa!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Unlike their 1950's predecessors the PTA, today's PTO doesn't "Associate." Oh hell no. That stuff is for lightweights. These women were put on this earth to ORGANIZE and by God, they're going to do it. Pity the fool who drives through the pick up line the wrong way or dares park too close to the playground. In some towns the PTO mommies will come to blows if need be but not here in Stepford. All renegade behavior is met with the most deadly of weapons- the icy stare.
Needless to say, I'm familiar with it. I've tried folks. I really have but I can't deal with these committees and women who for the life of them have no idea what they're doing. Last year I got roped into volunteering for one of their damn fundraisers. Seeing as I'm really not the poster-painting type I said I'd keep track of the money. Everyone signed up in advance and sent in checks and I was to keep track on a spreadsheet. No big deal.
Except that apparently it was a big deal. I said I'd just make a spreadsheet and fill it in as the checks were received. We could sort it alphabetically whenever and all would be fine. Except that they kept insisting that they had the spreadsheet from last year and it would be better for me to use that. So, I kept a list of about a million checks, names etc waiting and waiting for last years spreadsheet. And guess what? When they finally emailed it to me IT WAS BLANK!
So, I called and asked them to resend the one with the names and they told me there isn't one with the names but this was the "spreadsheet" I should use. OMG How did these people get through college? How do they get through their days? They are so damned out of touch that they don't even know Microsoft Excel one of the world's most popular programs? NEVER AGAIN!
Now I make sure to volunteer only for jobs that can be done over the net or by email. No more PTO bullsh*t. Heaven.