Lisa's Rants and Raves
This week I thought I'd shock humanity by actually penning an original piece. I know that you, and Tom, (graphic design man), are tiring of monthly reruns. (See, I'm getting better at this jazz as, at least, I'm not entering the vault on a weekly basis. I have it down to about once per month. Aren't you proud?)
I shall attempt to list a few sayings that drive me to consume massive alcoholic beverages. Yes, I realize that it's a short drive, these days, so just stop those unwholesome thoughts right now.
This first bizarre word structure has to do with children getting together to wreak havoc, as they oft' do. When I say wreak havoc, I actually mean interact with each other, in some form. The term is “play date” and when I hear it, I want to scale tall buildings and pitch Lego pieces toward pedestrians.
What is the story with this rather new invention? Actually, it isn't all that recent, as I recall it was born right around the time that my son burst forth into the world, which was approximately eighteen years ago.
In the ancient days of my youth, we simply said that we were going over to so and so's house. It was implied that playing would unfold. We didn't have appointment books or day planners on hand in order to create some kind of itinerary for interactive creativity, now known as having a play date.
When we were littler kids, we'd say that we were playing at Cowden's or at some other neighborhood gathering place. Again, there was no need for the melding of the words play and date. We all seemed to fare well without those words rearing their now overused noggins.
Why have parenting and “kidding” both morphed into such organized sports? Why do we have to schedule times for our children to meet and greet? I just don't get it and am proud to say that I've never utilized the saying play date and never will.
When my offspring was but a tot, I said things like, “I finally got rid of the child for a bit so we can go to happy hour.” In other words, I didn't sugarcoat the situation. I labeled it in a straightforward manner. Simply put, it was any excuse to commit sins without the rug rat being under foot.
No offense but, must everything be so %$#&* outlined and formally placed on a docket when it comes to those darling overprotected children? Talk about going overboard with having structure in a child's life. I'm totally over play dates and I refuse to participate. I guess I don't have to since my kid has moved beyond the play date phase and has entered the date only realm. Whew.
Moving beyond the ridiculousness that IS modern day parenting, another goofed up term is the word “chill.” Honestly, my son listed this as one of his pet peeves but confessed that he now says it.
The question and the answer to every question in life is...CHILL. Q: “How are you today?” A: “I'm chill.” Q: “What did you want to do tonight?” A: “Chill.” Q: “I'm so upset over the use of the saying play date. What's your take on it?” A: “I'm pretty chill about it.”
Stop with the whole chill scenario. Good gravy. Can we work on this collectively and cease in our lazy word usage? Pretty please with something chilly atop? OK then.
“It's complicated.” I speak not of the state of this column. “It's complicated” is yet another phrase, saying, term, whatever, that I've grown to loathe.
This is generally uttered on soap operas or on other television dramas but, I've also taken it in during everyday social intercourse.
When someone answers your question of, “what is wrong with you?” by saying, “it's complicated,” he or she is just begging for you to dig the truth out of him/her like a dentist performing an extraction.
Now, in the case of daytime dramas, “it's complicated” could mean that the character has just discovered that he was married to his half sister who was presumed dead but, in reality, had amnesia and has recently returned from the great beyond. I kid you not.
However, during a regular conversation at some local greasy-spoon counter, if someone claims that such and such is simply too complicated to impart, he is almost willing to pay you to interrogate him further. He is bursting to tell all but wants to make it as dramatic as humanly possible.
So, unless your dead brother is really alive and well and is, in actuality, participating in the Federal Witness Relocation Program, due to his testifying against a local mob kingpin, and he's getting ready to resurrect from the dead after having his gender reassignment surgery in Zurich, then stop saying that whatever is on your mind is “too complicated” to share with all in your path. Wow, that was some sentence. (Gee, I think I will submit that last paragraph to General Hospital for a possible future storyline.)
With that, I'm off. I have a play date with Mother and her crew for dinner. After that, we are going to chill for a bit and then I will have her run me to and fro. Why does she have to chauffeur me? That story is absolutely, totally and to the max, way too complicated for the space allotted.