Monday, April 19, 2010

It's not like I'm Mary Louise Parker peddling a bag of weed or anything.

I’m getting pressure to join the PTA at my son’s school. Now that the Hubby is a teacher he has decided that all the GOOD families have parents (read: mothers) on the parent council and, you know, participate in some way. He is also feeding me some bullshit about there being a conflict of interest about him joining the parent council.

I’m not sure how that works exactly since he doesn’t teach at our son’s school, but he swears to god that is some kind of rule somewhere and he needs to follow it.

Here is the problem – we moved about five years ago to the other side of the city, and it’s kind of the wrong end of town.

For people like us.

Our neighborhood has three types of people:

1. Stay at home moms who are always draped head to toe in Lu Lu Lemon and can go grocery shopping at 2:00 pm on a Wednesday afternoon;

2. Families who love baby Jesus; and

3. Super old people with gazebos in their backyard who have lived in the neighbourhood since Kennedy was assassinated.

We do not fit into any of the above categories.

I make the Lu Lu Lemon moms super uncomfortable because not only do I have to work, like, everyday, I’m fat. Fat, working moms are not on their radar. At. All.

I make the baby Jesus families uncomfortable because I deliberately fuck with them whenever possible.

See, I have this ‘multi-faith’ calendar at work which alerts me to the various holidays being celebrated around the world on any given day. For example, today is the first day of Ridvan, the Bah’i festival that commemorates the 12 days that Baha’u’llah spent in the garden of Ridvan during his exile in Baghdad.

I know, right?

Now if I happen to see one of the Jesus families walking their dog while I’m playing with the kids outside after supper tonight, I’ll call out to them, “Happy Ridvan!” and wave fanatically.

As for the super old people – I irritate the shit out of them because aside from the standard mow now and again, I don’t really give a crap about the state of my lawn. The old people, however, will mow their grass, rake up the mowed grass, get this crazy looking contraption out and, I shit you not, VACUUM their lawn. They average about 3 hours a day on that mo-fo. It’s actually a nice wind down to the day watching them go through all that effort for a patch of grass. I just sit on my stoop and eat freezies.

Where was I originally going with this? Oh yeah, the PTA.

I have been avoiding joining the PTA because in my neighbourhood I’m the crazy fat chick with the brown lawn who worships satan.

Nobody wants that chick on the PTA.

But, apparently at some point in the not so distant past I indicated on some shitty little form I wasn’t really paying attention to that I would be willing to volunteer for school special events. Really? I’m pretty sure the Hubby suckered me into this one somehow, because I totally do NOT remember signing on for that. However, I got a call today, from the president of the PTA herself, inviting me to a meeting Thursday night to discuss planning the annual ‘Hoe Down’ the school throws in June.

I told her that she’s lucky the meeting wasn’t scheduled for tonight because it’s Ridvan, and work is traditionally suspended on days 1, 9 and 12 of the festival.

Then I told her I’d see her at the meeting and to keep an eye out for me - I’d be the chubby one in the WalMart 'George' label yoga pants with with blue freezie stain dripped down the front of her tank top.

Blue is the best freezie colour, hands down.

They’re going to LOVE me.

A hundred bucks says he has the nazi symbol tattooed on his forehead. There just can’t be any other explanation for that hair.

Who the fuck is Justin Beiber? Seriously, where did this kid come from? He interrupted my Juno awards last night (Canadian music’s version of the Grammys) with some horrible ‘Baby Baby Baby Baby’ song that included this kid with no forehead leaning over the stage singing to screaming 10 year-old girls while surrounded by huge black dudes trying to rap to this ridiculous song. Why is this kid even performing on the Junos? Shouldn’t he be guest staring on the Hills or dry humping Miley Cyrus or something?

Holy shit, is he….Canadian? No! He can’t be. Surely I would have heard about him before now if he was Canadian. I already feel bad enough about inflicting the world with Celine Dion, I’m not sure I could handle the shame if this twerp was Canadian.

And where is his mother? We ALL know how this will end – good ol’ JB will livin’ la vita-methamphetamine by the time he’s 21 and his ‘fan base’ is old enough to realize he kind of sucks.

I mean, here is the picture that was on MY wall when I was 13 years-old.

That didn’t really end so well.

I just googled him. Yes, Justin Beiber is Canadian. So was Corey Haim, as it turns out.

Attention Canadian mothers of cute, yet somewhat talentless children!!

Don’t whore them out for profit, okay? We get free health care; you don’t need the money that badly. Their mediocre singing and preposterous haircuts will eventually be discovered for what they are – a quick fad to bilk tweens out of their allowance and introduce them to the showerhead nozzle at an early age. Instead of sending your child on a self-destructive path that ends with dating Lindsay Lohan, how about you leave it with Junior taking the lead in the school musical and getting blown by a cheerleader in the backseat of his 1996 Ford Topaz.

Gonorrhea is way easier to treat than a heroin addiction.

You’re welcome.