Not A Dollarshort

Words of Wisdom.

It's impossible to force someone to sing.

It's even more impossible (yes, there are degrees of impossibility) to force Ben someone to sing the harmony in a song they really do not like.

"Tonight You Belong To Me" (277k wav) is a fun song that all couples should sing.

Life's too short to hold on to dignity^*.

^* I learned this lesson the hard way last week when, halfway through a business meeting, I realized that I had big chunk of chocolate stuck to the massive cowl-neck part of my turtleneck (the neck of the sweater can cover my entire head). Apparently, the piece of chocolate had fallen into the collar on the last occasion I had worn the sweater -- no doubt while laying on the couch, eating chocolate and watching Classic Hollywood Squares.

Eeeeeeeeee.

If it's lame to write an entry about how much I love a television commercial, then it must be doubleplus lame to write an entry about how much I love a beer commercial.

Still, all dignity is out the window as I watch the Weary Traveler.

I'm a sucker for psychotic ventriloquist dummies.

But, aren't we all?

Apron Strings.

The scene: My parent's house.
Characters: Me, Ben, Mom, Dad

Mom: Oh, I a surprise for you.

Mena: What?

Mom: Something I found while cleaning the garage.

Mena: Not that stupid fake ID again! I told you already -- I never used it!

(I really never used it)

Mom: No, this is something you'll like.

Mena: It better be. Don't trick me.

Emotionally, I'm like a formerly-abused dog who constantly flinches at the sight of humans. I never quite know when a parental trick is on the horizon.

My mom pulls out my old report cards and an 8x10 photo from a folder.

It's one of those novelty photographs that you'll find at amusement parks -- the kind of photo where they superimpose a magazine cover over a picture of you or your child.

Ben: Oh! That hair! It's so sad.

Mena: American Baby? I'm about ten years old!

Dad: I know, isn't it tragic? Why did you let us do this to you?

Mom: She's still my baby.

Mena: Baby of the year? What were you thinking?

Mom: But she's still my baby!!

Dad: I'm so sorry.

Ben: That hair is really bad. And your cheeks -- are you hoarding food?

Mom: If you don't think she's the cutest kid in the world, you can just send her back home to live with me.

My mom doesn't actually say that last line aloud. But I already know what she's thinking.

After all, I'm the baby of the year.