jeez louise am i bored... that's right, you heard me. i love being a mom. i love my kid. but i'm only human. i'm a multi-faceted momma. i was girlzilla before mamazilla. please stop mistaking me for the walking dead - at least for today.
what's even more pathetic is that kidzilla - a.k.a she-who-loves-to-bend-toilet-paper-to-her-will - is also bored.... today, we've danced to music, read books, completed puzzles, thrown tea party after tea party, built and deconstructed small civilizations, demolition tricycled over sponges, colored every post it and magazine, shape sorted up the gazooobo, you name it, we done it...
in my house, if you're in one place for more than 5 minutes, you're fair game and potential playground fodder... unfortunately, dressing up the cat only took about 5 minutes. she's pretty fast and once she realized how unflattering the wig was she hid dead center underneath our king size bed, where she was sure she couldn't be retrieved by any searching limbs akimbo. i should have tried the afro on her instead, much more compositionally correct...
but, thinking i could use cat toys as bait, i lined up 6 plastic cups in a row and tossed them in - think GRAND! PRIZE! GAME! from the Bozo Show (sans the prizes). well, neither the cat nor the child could be convinced that it was in fact, grand or a game.
it was then i realized, after the wig, the game and the kitchen sink, i AM bozo. ok, maybe bozo's b*tch. see, there's the bozo you know - beloved icon of children's television, cookie the clown's foil, pie thrower, game hawker, march leader. and then there's the unknown man who took off the costume, drove home, made dinner, looked in the mirror and switched off the light. for decades, he straddled the line between "dinner for two" and "chuck e cheese".
but was bozo really a bozo? a fathead? an oblivious, incompetent fool?
is that who i am now? this smiling, hokey-pokeying, crafty beavering, gratin pan wielding susie homemaker with a colorful past who occasionally goes to see live shows, drinks alcohol, worries about her fading looks, curbs her sailor's mouth, and watches soft porn disguised as foreign cinema. (right, like you don't...)
i should quit reflecting on it and just make myself a shirt.
it'll say "i am bozo" on the front and "hear me roar" on the back.
5 comments:
OK that photo is too funny! love the pink hair. ~Tara
Can't see the photo from work; I'll have to check it later. But I already like it, because there's nothing more photogenic than cats in wigs.
Favorite "foreign film" would definitely be Emmanuelle.
Ok, I see it now. Heh...
I was hoping for a sailor's outfit, but this'll do. You know, I like to think cats have some amount of recall. Let's say their cute little heads have storage capacity equivalent to, I dunno, a Commodore VIC-20.
Just enough to remember all the times you make them wear wigs. It's like a little low-rez VGA slideshow in their dreams.
tara - the reality: this wig looks WAY better on the cat than it does on me...
josh -
a) what is with that horse!?
b) dude. talk american toddler. fire-bad, tree-pretty. and did you just finish watching war games or something? ;)
square1 - thanks for stopping by! it could be worse, right? ;)
hey bees knees. i'm truly honored by your visit i really (REALLY) love (LOVE) your blog... btw - i am a former oakland resident (6 years) and a proud member of "fruit fly" (fag hag) club. my birhday is march 6.
Post a Comment