the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Dutch clock weights

Jon and I are lying in bed on Friday night watching Bill Maher when he mentions that he had recently been bleeped on CBS when he referred to Tea Partiers as Tea Baggers. And he can’t understand why this term is now deemed explicit because not everyone knows what it means, right? And his guest John Waters is like, um, Bill? Of course everyone knows what this means. Even that former Mormon, Heather, in your audience knows what it means, and she was twenty-two years old before she ever saw a penis outside of a textbook.

Right then I tell Jon to pause the television. “You know what it means, right?” I ask him.

“Well, yeah,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure it’s when the guy drags his package across your face and rests his balls in your eyes.”

To describe my laughing fit as lasting forty-five minutes will underestimate it by at least an hour.

Rests his balls in your eyes? The?

I mean, I’m sure that this particular maneuver is a total turn on for some people, but the only thing I can think of when I hear this scenario is someone getting home from work and being all, dude, I am so tired. Do you think you could go stand in front of the freezer for a few minutes and then bring your balls over here and plop them on my eyes? Thanks.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

read more

SaveSave