[Insert Granola Bar Here]

You know that commercial for the granola bars about how kids always say the most inappropriate things at the wrong times (or whatever), and Quaker’s solution was that you shove a granola bar in their mouths?

I always thought I would be a bad parent because that commercial cracked me up. It didn’t crack me up in a “cute kids, glad they aren’t mine”-way, but in a jumping up off the couch, screaming “holy mother of pearl, I want those kids!” manner. Kids that say what’s on their minds and speak the truth – two things I value in myself, so why wouldn’t I value that in my carbon copies?

Because I am an asshole, that’s why.

Lately, the little Pookies proved time and again that blunt and brazen is sometimes awkward. I mean, I still find it hilarious – so much so that I’m thinking about patenting it and calling them “Pookie-isms.” But I’m pretty sure some philanthropic action group devoted to preventing kids from becoming jerks like me would probably get involved.

You decide:

Pookie-isms At Home

On Valentine’s Day, my husband made a commitment to be home on time and have a nice meal with us. He is pretty addicted to his job – answering the phone in the middle of the night even and scheduling all of our vacation time around work projects – so this was a really big deal.

And then he ran into traffic on the way home that fated V-Day and showed up about an hour late. An hour late for him is roughly 8:30 at night – way too late for us to eat dinner, so we had eaten and saved a plate for him, growing angrier and angrier by the minute. He walked in the door around 8:28 and I will never forget what Pookies said as she ran to the door:

“Oh man, you are in the hot seat. She is so mad even her boobs are sweating!”

Pookie-isms At the Grocery Store

Last week or so we were grocery shopping and – as usual – got way more groceries than we needed. I have this thing where I go to the store with a list but then see stuff I forget that we have and think we need; and then before I know it our cart is full and hard to push.

This lady Gloria who is always working on the check stands and has an annoyed attitude all the time gave me this look like I was committing a crime by putting that many groceries on the conveyer belt, and (of course) Pookies noticed.

As we drove away from the grocery store, she said to me: “Momma, do you think that lady was upset because of us, or because she was thinking about the fact that she forgot to shave off her beard this morning?”

Pookie-isms At Dinner

Tonight we ate dinner with my dad. I wasn’t very hungry because it is hot and we had a big lunch; but he was so hungry and we were just hanging around his house doing our laundry for free (versus our $3.50 a load at apartment laundry room), so I figured we’d go along for the ride.

Something about my father that has always driven me crazy is he refuses to run the air conditioner in his car. As I said, today was a particularly hot day, so this was annoying, though the ride was relatively short.

Walking into the cafe, though, Pookies announced as loudly as I think she could have possibly spoken: “”No … you don’t understand – it is so hot in the backseat of that car that my crotch is all sweaty now.”

Pookie-isms With the Grandparents

A few weeks ago my dad was babysitting while I went to get my nails done. As usual, he just went about his daily business – errands, grocery store, post office. Pookies always like to get the mail for him, though, at the post office, and apparently as the envelopes of bills and letters and magazines were being handed over to him, in the crowded post office, a Pookie-ism ripped out so loud even the postal worker snickered: “Grandpa, I think whoever this lady that sent you this card is has the hots for you. She wrote your name in cursive and it smells like lady perfume and junk.”

It was a card from my Great Aunt Dorothy.

Pookie-isms on Personal Hygiene

“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to shave my legs so we can have contests to see whose leg hair gets more grotesque.”

Pookie-isms on Having Babies

“Momma, is the doctor going to cut the baby out of that lady’s tummy soon? Because it looks like the baby may fall out of her.”

Pookie-isms on Children’s Programming

“Caillou is so whiney it makes me want to barf.”

“Do you think maybe the Duncan family has had a few too many babies?” (Good Luck Charlie)

“Maybe Dino Dan would be less of a pansy if he had a dad.”

Pookie-isms on Growing Up Like Mom

“Man, I really hope my boobs aren’t as big as yours when I grow up.”

Somewhat Topical Pookie-isms

By “somewhat topical,” I of course mean reflecting things I seem to talk about all the time. In other words: hillbillies.

I realized shortly after I started blogging that I rail on about hillbillies a lot – likely because it seems our community is overrun by them. Four-by-fours everywhere. People wearing no shirts, riding those little bikes with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. All sorts of deadbeat dads shirking their child support payments (our county is one of the highest rates in California).

Earlier this week, while driving down the street on the way to swimming class, Pookies was trying to decide what she wanted to have for lunch after class. She waffled between typical kid foods: macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and nutella sandwich; then she whipped out with a Pookie-ism: “Of course, if I was a total hillbilly I would want a hot dog covered in slaw, mustard, and chili. Then I’d puke it out right in the front yard.”


So I suppose the granola bar commercial is right. When the mouths of babes open:

[Insert Granola Bar Here].

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The Banana Blower’s Baldness and a Chicken-peddling Crackhead: a Korean Hooker Hostage Update

That’s right, faithful blog followers, the Korean Hooker Hostage bizarro nail salon experiences have returned. For a month or so, I’ve been thinking that things may have turned back to normal and the weird, fucked up goings-on had officially come to an end. I was wrong. More wrong than I’ve ever been. Clearly, normal for this nail salon is a bunch of crazy and seemingly unexplainable shit at once.

Tawdry One Now Has Bangs … and a bald spot

The Tawdry One did my nails today – the first time since that one day she deep throated an entire banana after clearly blowing the owner’s husband in the back room. I was of course speculating, but the bananarama really did happen. To this day, I still cannot figure out how she got that entire banana down her throat in one swoop.

So she came over and said “hello” and I noticed she has new bangs. I don’t think she had bangs before, now she does and – quite frankly – they’re hot. They’re sort of chopped or spiky, very cute. Okay, but don’t get too thinking that I’m nice and all because then the bitch leaned over to start doing my nails and I noticed she had a horrifyingly large bald spot. This woman cannot be older than her mid thirties and that lady is balder on the top of her head than my father who just turned 69 today.

I quickly forgot this, though, because a homeless crackhead came in trying to peddle her chicken on me.

A New Korean Hooker Hostage Character: the Chicken-peddling Crackhead

So this woman walked back into the salon after I had sat down and the bald, blow-job bitch had begun stabbing at my nails and cuticles with her utensils of pain. I say “back” because something like her fourth phone call in which she screamed like a crazy person at her boyfriend to come pick her up, she mentioned that her pedicure had been dry for well over an hour and her “chicken and clam chowder was going bad.” He still had not picked her up when I left.

You may be asking yourselves how such a catch could be stood up at the nail salon by her boyfriend. Well, in the hour or so that I was there, through her many conversations, her six trips to the bathroom, and her utter refusal to stop asking me if I wanted some of her chicken, I learned quite a few of her qualities that may not be considered by all to be endearing.

* She is actually homeless. I don’t get how a homeless person with no money can afford to carry a Coach bag and get pedicures at the local nail salon, but who am I to say where people should spend the little money they have. So she’s homeless and sleeps on a bed at the Y when not shacking up with her boyfriend, who happens to have a nice home in the hills (i.e. he has a lot of money… . . . . . ).

* Her food stamps were recently revoked because she got caught purchasing alcohol with them. While there, she took a call with her food stamp agent, though, and found out that her stamps were reinstated. Immediately afterwards, she walked across the way to the local grocery store to purchase some chicken, clam chowder, and carrots.

* She smokes crack. At first, I just sort of figured this was the case because of the multiple trips to the bathroom, the general crackhead-type behavior, the screaming on the phone, among other things – but then she actually said to someone on the phone that she was waiting for her boyfriend to come pick her up so they could go get their rock.

When you really look at the woman, you feel sort of bad for her. In the end, it’s a terribly sad situation. But at the same time, I just have to say WHAT THE FUCK?! As sad as it may seem, this lady is definitely making some choices that are not in her best interest. I would argue that using crack-cocaine is probably one of them.

So then the woman started roaming around the nail salon trying to force everyone to eat some of the chicken that she purchased at the grocery store across the street. After a while, I started keeping track of how many times she tried to pressure me to take a big chomp of her $6.99 roasted chicken. By the time I left, she had harassed me (and I say harassed because she was really giving me a hard time) – NINE TIMES. Sadly, the ninth time I said I was not hungry, everyone could hear my stomach growl at the most inopportune moment, and I was proven a complete liar.

So, yeah. I suppose crazy is the norm for this place. I didn’t even have the time to go see if that hostage was back in the closet again. I’ll be back in two weeks, though. Who knows just what the hell will go down then?