Wednesday 24 October 2012

Top Ten WTF? Slutty Halloween Costumes

I love this song for its commentary on predictable Halloween costumes and, more specifically, the predictability of the slutty Halloween costume which is "something you'll definitely see."

Now, I'm not here to cast any judgment on women and their choice of dress and how that might reflect on their perceived sexual behaviour.  As far as I'm concerned the "It's Halloween so it's okay" rule stands.  You're an adult so do what you like.  I rocked a few slutty costumes myself back in the day and it was fun.  Mind you, back then when we wanted to look slutty for Halloween we chose costumes that naturally lent themselves to sluttiness: sexy nurse, sexy french maid, sexy kitty.  Hooker.  Once I dressed up as "Crack Whore Barbie" and it was hilarious.

But these days there are literally no limits for Halloween costume sluttery.  None.  Whatsoever.  It's like, OMG!  Why are they making everything slutty!?!  So today, after much laborious research, I present to you the Top Ten in WTF? Slutty Halloween Costumes.

10) Slutty Sesame Street.

You would think that googly-eyed monsters covered in fur and feathers would be the last thing in the world to lend itself to sluttiness.  You would be wrong!  You've got slutty Cookie Monster, slutty Big Bird, slutty Bert and Ernie.....there's even a slutty Oscar the Grouch.  Because nothing says "sexy" like dressing up as a cantankerous, homeless monster who lives in a garbage can.  Hot!!!

9) Slutty Mrs. Potato Head.

If Slutty Sesame Street wasn't disturbing enough for you, you could always dress up as the slutty version of your favourite childhood toy.  Introducing Slutty Mrs. Potato Head.  The only thing this costume leaves to the imagination is trying to imagine where she stores all those Potato Head accessories.  Brought to you by Playskool.

8) Slutty Chewbacca.

If you're a fangirl looking to get the attention of that fanboy you've been crushing on, don't get lost in the crowd of slutty Princess Leias.  Make yoruself stand out.  Nothing screams "Sexy!" quite like a wookie.  And if your fanboy disagrees you can always threaten to tear his arms off.  Seriously, the only thing that could surprise me right now would be a "Jabba the Slutt" costume.

7) Slutty Big Mac.

And slutty Big Mac is only the tip of the iceberg.  You can be any slutty food you want.  I've seen slutty corn, a slutty hotdog, and slutty condiments.  There are so many possibilities.  I just picked slutty Big Mac because it was my favourite.

It's like I'm reading "The Very Slutty Caterpillar"
6) Slutty Willy Wonka.

Seriously there's a slutty Willy Wonka.  Can you imagine the jokes?  I imagine they would sound just like Kate Winslet talking dirty.

5) Slutty Leatherface.

Did you like the slutty Freddy Kreuger from the video?  I did.  So why not slut up any of your favourite horror movie killers?  Why not slutty Leatherface?  Just say it out loud to hear how ridiculous this is.  Slutty Leatherface.  There's also a slutty Jason Voorhees, slutty Hannibal Lecter and slutty Michael Myers.

4) Slutty SpongeBob SquarePants

If you asked me to name the least sexy cartoon I know it would have to SpongeBob.  He''s literally square shaped, has buck teeth and the sponge holes in his body just look like problem skin to me.  But the good people at (who, BTW are the brilliant minds behind most, if not all, of the costumes made here) said "SpongeBob SquarePants?  Challenge accepted."

3) Slutty George Washington.

For the slutty American History enthusiast we have the slutty George Washington.  Soon we'll be able to honour all the founding fathers on Halloween, slut-style.

2) Slutty Shrek.

If you asked me to name the least sexy cartoon I would name SpongeBob because I momentarily forgot about Shrek.  Shrek: the ogre who lives in the swamp and drinks eyeball highballs.  Shrek: the ogre who reeks from every pore and orifice.  Shrek: the ogre whose catch phrase is "Better out than in!"  Couldn't we at least have gone with slutty Fiona?  No?  Alrighty then.

And finally, for the number one WTF? Slutty Halloween Costume we have:

1) Slutty Osama Bin Laden.

Okay, this isn't an actual Halloween costume.  But judging by the slutty costumes I've already listed here it's only a matter of time.

Personally I think Halloween is the best time to dress up "slutty".  It's the only time that a woman can dress provocatively and not have her morality questioned too much and it can be fun.  Funny even.

But for me now that I'm 36 and have two kids, I'm kind of past these kinds of costumes.

I think I'll move on to slutty dog costumes.

For more slutty dog costumes go here.

(I've teased Yandy here a lot but they are actually a terrific website for lingerie shopping.  I might just get myself  a little costume to wear for my husband.)

(I got the Slutty Osama Bin Laden here.)

Friday 19 October 2012

Annoying Shit About my Husband (That I have Come to Appreciate)

My hubby left this week to go on the yearly Rotten Man-Gathering: every fall the men in the Rotten family all travel up north to go duck hunting.  I can't imagine how anyone would call driving four hours so they can get up every day at WTF o'clock and freeze their asses off in a canoe/hiding in the woods a "vacation", but whatever.  They seem to love it.  I understand there is a lot of beer involved.

Anyway I'm kind of missing my man at the moment, so I thought now would be a good time to talk about how much he frickin' annoys me.

1) He's painfully, brutally honest.  I remember when we were first living together and I was trying to woo him with my amazing culinary skills.  I don't talk about it too much but I'm awesome in the kitchen.  I put a lot of thought and care into preparing a meal so you can imagine how pissed I got when, after tasting my wonderful creation, he quite bluntly declared "I don't like this."

Well, gee don't sugarcoat it or anything.  Tell me what you really think!

This was a real blow to my ego.  It is impossible for someone with taste buds to not like my cooking.  (Impossible, I say!)  But then I began to notice that he was plainly truthful about everything.  It's not like he was going around being overly critical or mean, but if I asked him what he thought about something he would go right ahead and tell me without holding back.

And then one day I realized this was not necessarily a bad thing.

Because here was a man who is so committed to being honest that he would never lie, not even to spare my feelings.  Throughout our 12 years together he has always been brutally honest with me and I have never once caught him lying.  In fact I've learned that he considers lying to be beneath his manly dignity.  And to me, that's pretty fucking cool.

I like flattery as much as the next girl but when it comes to my life partner I'll take an honest brute over a smooth liar any day of the week.

2) He's a hoarder.  This he gets this from his mother.  The shit she has held on to over the years never ceases to amaze me.  One time I found Frick playing with some home made paper money that she had made when she was a little girl.  That's right.  My mother in-law managed to hang on to paper coins and paper bills that her childish hands had awkwardly drawn and cut out sometime in the late 1950's.  Who does that?

Mother Rotten, that's who.

I'm the complete opposite.  I ruthlessly rid myself of any extraneous stuff.  If I haven't used it in the last year and it doesn't have any significant sentimental or monetary value then out it goes to the local thrift store.  As Great Gran MacCrappy used to say:

"Effen ye arrrrn't  yoooozing it, sum othurrrr perr soul c'd mak yoos uff't.  Nae sense in huvvin't gaitherrr dust!"

(Which, roughly translated means, "There are poor people who would love to have this.  Why hang on to it if you don't really need it?")

But my husband seems to be emotionally attached to every wire, thread and bit of plastic that enters this house.  On top of that he is constantly bringing home crap from his clients who were trying to throw their crap away.  Old cell phones, obsolete computers, broken monitors and one time, an old Atari set complete with a box of Atari game cartridges (which might be cool if we played with it, but instead it sits in a box taking up space).

I've tried many times to sit him down in our basement and help me sort the valuable crap (like the Atari stuff, I guess) from the actual crappy crap but it's impossible.  He sees value in all the crap.  I have to wait until he's not home to get rid of the crap.  In fact I'm in the process of taking advantage of this hunting trip right now, getting rid of all kinds of crap.

But the thing is sometimes the crap turns out to be useful.  There have been numerous occasions where my husband has been able to fish out some crucially necessary item, and I've had to grudgingly acknowledge that it was a good thing he kept it instead of getting rid of it like any sane person would do.

Also, thanks to Mother Rotten, I got to have the rather heartwarming experience of dressing my sons in the same baby clothes their father wore and letting them play with the same toys their father used to play with.  I've learned to hang on to more things than I used to before I met my husband, and maybe someday my grandchildren will be wearing some of my children's clothes and playing with some of my children's toys.

3)  He's a slob.  This one continues to be challenging.  Messiness and disorder trigger my anxiety making me highly irritable so I don't always handle this well.  It is true that he works very long hours.  It is true that he's too busy supporting his family to consider cleaning.  But it is also true that he is a straight up slob.

To be fair he does the best he can.  After years of seeing me throw tantrums He finally cleans up whenever he remembers to think about it and lately he has been in the habit of washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.  It's been lovely being able to make my morning coffee in a clean kitchen instead of having to wash a load of dishes for this to be even possible (something I've been missing since he's gone hunting).  So I'm trying to cut the guy some slack.

I try to see the messes he makes as evidence of his commitment to providing for his family.  He works very hard so I can stay home and be with our children and help them with speech therapy/ADHD counselling/school advocacy etc.

Also, There's something to be said for living with a well-meaning slob.  Would I want him to be the complete opposite?  He could be the kind of neat freak who doesn't want anything to be touched because it has to always be show-room perfect.  I think I'd rather have the kind of anxiety generated by living in some mess than the kind that is generated from the nit-picking disapproval of my husband.

I guess the thing I appreciate most about all of this annoying shit is that it's really the worst stuff about him.  He's a well-meaning slob who hoards junk and tells the truth too much and, when you put it in perspective, that's pretty fucking awesome.

Because we could be like this happy couple:

Thursday 18 October 2012

Themed Thursday: Ramping Up for Halloween with Horror101

It's Themed Thursday yet again and this week we tackle the topic of Halloween!

I've been having a Halloween extravaganza this month over on my facebook page and some of you have been asking me about when it's okay to let your kids watch scary movies.

Short answer: whenever the hell you want.

Hey it's your kid and you know them best.  If you think they're ready then they're ready.  I'm not one of those people who think that a little scary movie is going to a) scar my kid for life or b) turn him into a serial killer and that's because a) kids love the thrill of a good scare and are more resilient than we give them credit for and b) if your kid has that serial killer gene then not watching horror movies won't make a difference anyway.  In fact you should probably consider letting him watch "Dexter".

For Frick we decided last year, at age ten, was probably alright.

It's definitely my opinion that horror movies can be fun but you have to be careful about how you do it.  You can't just go barreling in with a Rob Zombie production.  You have to ease them in gently.  Test the waters, see how they react.

So in this post I will be providing some advice on how to handle initiating your child into the spooky world of horror.  This is Horror101.

Careful movie selection is key.  Choosing an appropriate movie is the single most important step in beginning Horror101. There are three criteria I look for when choosing a horror movie for my pre-teen son:

1) Humour.  If a movie can provide a good laugh to relieve the tension from a good fright then your chances of having to deal with night terrors are greatly decreased.

Shaun of the Dead

You can't go wrong with a good Rom-Zom-Com.

Army of Darkness

Hearing your child shout "This is my boomstick!" while running around playing with his friends is just so deeply rewarding.


Who wouldn't want a pet zombie?

2)  Older Movies.  There is a wealth of older movies that are just incredibly dated in terms of special effects.  The impact of the horror is lessened by how unrealistic it looks compared to modern standards.

Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Everyone loves a pie fight, even the undead.



This could easily have been directed by Tim Burton.  Even the soundtrack is reminiscent of Danny Elfman.

The Gate

Kids these days are too sophisticated to be frightened by a little stop motion animation.

3) Ghost Stories.  As much as I love horror, I actually have a weak stomach for slasher flicks.  There are a few I can tolerate but even those I have political opinions on (re: victims being largely female, topless and promiscuous and that sending entirely the wrong message about women etc. etc.)  I generally prefer ghosty-stories for their ability to deliver the fright with a minimum of blood and gore.  This can make these horror movies ideal for Horror101.

The Haunting (1963)

This classic was actually the first horror movie I ever saw and it still holds up today even though all it uses are camera tricks and sound effects.

The Sixth Sense

Can I tell how much fun it is to watch your kid watch this movie?  Mind.  Blown.



This was the movie that sparked my obsession with seances.  I even had my own Ouija board made by the mystical Parker Brothers.

Always preview any scary movie you watch with your kids.  Once you've made your selection it's a good idea to make sure it doesn't contain any nasty little surprises.  The last thing you need is to suddenly traumatize your kid with a scene you forgot/didn't know about.  

Periodically take their fright temperature.  After a scary part I like to ask Frick whether or not it's too much for him.  This is more to reassure myself than it is for him, honestly.  I offer to turn the movie off and put on something funny but he just laughs at me and begs for more.

Nothing gets me in the mood for Halloween more than horror movies.  As a child, my favourite part about Halloween (aside from the actual trick-or-treating of course) was being allowed to stay up, gorging on candy and watching a scary movie.  Naturally I was looking forward to my own children enjoying that experience.  It will be even better when Frack is old enough and we can make it a tradition for the whole family.  But right now, Frick and I are pretty happy that this is our own special thing.

And now for the other Themed Thursday bloggers (drum-roll please...)

Thursday 11 October 2012

Themed Thursday: The Evolution of My Dream Job

Welcome to Themed Thursday: the awesome little blog hop all the cool bloggers are talking about.  At least let's hope so.  This week's theme is My Dream Job.

I've dreamed of a lot of jobs.

When I was five I wanted to be a Movie Star, like Miss Piggy.  At least that's what I told the school librarian at the time.  I wasn't serious about it.  I just thought Miss Piggy was very beautiful and I felt like I wasn't (kids teased me because I looked like a boy) so what I really meant to say was that I wanted to be beautiful like Miss Piggy.  Not much of a career, that.

When I was eleven I wanted to be an Actor's Actor like Meryl Streep or John Malkovich.  Because she was worried about my extreme introversion, Mummy Dearest forced me to take acting lessons.  I didn't want to, but after my very first stage performance I was bit with the bug: I wanted to act.  I wasn't bad either.  I always landed parts in anything I tried out for and I took it very seriously.  Everything I did for the next five years was to further my acting career: improv, dance lessons, singing lessons...I was a triple threat!  Not really.

When I was sixteen I wanted to be a Rock Star.  I asked for (and got) a bass guitar for my sweet 16 when my parents fully expected me to ask for a car and for the next four years I lived, breathed, and ate music.  I joined the school jazz band, created my own band for the school talent show so kids who wanted to sing would have back up musicians, and then played regular gigs with two bands.

I practiced constantly, spent entire weekends jamming at drummer's houses and lugged my bass guitar with me just about everywhere.  I took a great deal of pride in my blistered fingers and short, non-manicured fingernails.  Real musicians can't have pretty hands.  (Maybe some can?  I don't know about pianists.  Do pianists have pretty hands?)

When I was twenty-one I wanted to be a Political Scientist.  More specifically I wanted to work in PR.  More specifically than that I really wanted to be a Spin Doctor like DeNiro in "Wag the Dog".  I loved statistics and philosophy and I was obsessed with the way the government and the media manipulated public opinion.  Of course I would use my powers for good.  I liked the idea of working in campaign management to help get good people into office.  I would never want to run for office myself.  Too much public scrutiny.  Besides, behind the scenes was where the action was at!

When I was twenty three I dropped out of University to go study Television Production at the local college.  It seemed to be a natural progression from politics and public manipulation.  Then I fell in love with technology and production and wanted to be a Technical Director.

For those not in the know, a Technical Director is someone who sits in the TV control room or truck operating the switcher and also oversees the technical crew, equipment, and mapping of a production.  In Canada, where most of our TV jobs are in hockey or the News that means you are doing this on air, live.  It might not sound that fun but trust me, actually doing it was very exciting.  It even made me enjoy hockey.

But then I got knocked up in my last year of college and trying to start a career in television with a new baby is just about impossible.  Depending on the job you land, most starting salaries are a pittance (sometimes minimum wage depending on the job).  There's no way they're going to hire a kid green out of college to direct hockey games.  The days are 13 hours long plus a commute and daycare is expensive.  Also you generally can't afford to take time off.  It's mostly contract work so you have to keep working to keep working.  Many of my teachers in college were teaching because they had to get out of the game just to see their families.  I had to choose between my career and the kind of Mom I wanted to be.

So then I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do.

I'm an excellent cook.  My family keeps telling me I should start up a business selling my weird preserves (onion jam and hot pepper jelly) and homemade breads.  But this is labour intensive and I couldn't see a way to make a decent profit.  Other than that I'm not particularly crafty.  I know people who make money with their crafting.  I have this very clever friend whose business, Clone Hardware, is jewelry made out of techno junk .  Super cute stuff.  I have a necklace myself.  I love art but I've never been as artsy as her.  What possible talent do I have that could make me money?

And then I discovered my current dream job by accident.

It happened about four years ago when I returned from a family reunion and wrote a rant about pantyhose.  I had never in my life considered myself anything like a writer.  Oh, I tried many times as a teenager.  I had a collection of cringe-worthy poems and unfinished short stories.  I was keenly aware of how much they sucked.  But people responded positively to my rant.

About a month later I wrote another rant about eternally adolescent men who like to string women along but never intend to commit because they're always on the lookout for the next one.  This one was even more popular.  I was discovering something about myself: I wax eloquent when I'm pissed off.

Once I got a taste of that I couldn't stop.  I wrote articles in my facebook notes every week talking about everything; relationships, politics, religion, you name it.  It began to seem more appropriate for me to get a blog rather than harass my facebook friends into reading my notes.  Also many people were encouraging me to write but these are my friends and family and are therefore obligated to lie to me.  I wanted to know what perfect strangers would think.

And that's how Mommy Rotten was born.

So now my dream job is to write comedy for television.  I even have the college diploma that declares me qualified for the job.  Ultimately I would like Mommy Rotten to become a sitcom about a woman who blogs because she's not brave enough to say the things she thinks in real life.  I think it would be good.  I'm already adapting my blog posts into episode scripts.

Do you hear that TV executives and producers?  I want to write for you.  I even have a script with an elevator pitch just waiting for you.  Why aren't you hiring me already?

And now allow me to share with you the Dream Jobs of:

Something Clever 2.0
Aspiring to the Middle
Cloudy, With a Chance of Wine
I Like Beer and Babies
Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom
the next step
a calibama state of mind
Shit I Don't Tell Most People
Mom With Her Running Shoes On
Who Woulda Thought
The Insomniac's Dream

Happy reading!

Thursday 4 October 2012

Themed Thursday: Playgrounds Suck Now
I've joined up with some other bloggers to do this thing called Themed Thursdays where we write about a particular theme and then link up with each other.  Any of my fellow bloggy friends who are interested by all means let us know.  This week's theme is playgrounds.

One of my fondest memories as a child was getting to go to the park with Mummy Dearest and my brothers so we could climb all over the play equipment.

These things were awesome.

You had ginormous swings that made you feel like you could launch yourself to the moon if you got enough momentum.  There were the long rickety teeter-totters that you could almost break your tailbone on if the kid on the other end of it happened to be an asshole.  There were jungle gyms that could have been mistaken for unfinished apartment buildings they were so tall.  There was the kid-powered merry-go-round that taught valuable lessons in centrifugal force.
The play structure itself seemed to be made out of rejected factory parts: metal pipes, chains, rubber tires, rope, plastic tubes, rusty nails, aluminum siding (okay, I made those last two up).  You probably could have used one of these things to provide basic training at a boot camp.  And every play-structure either sat on sand or had a sandbox nearby great for digging and discovering parasites and freshly buried cat turds.

The good old days.
Obviously, I get the need to update the playgrounds of my childhood.  Some of these things were actually dangerous/unsanitary.  But the unfortunate side effect of making the playgrounds safer is that they also got a lot suckier, too.

Oh, they're fine for your average pre-schooler to have a pretty good time but for ages five and up the playground is kinda boring.  There are no good hiding spots, the plastic tubes and slides are shorter, and forget about anything like jungle gyms, teeter-totters or merry-go-rounds.  What you have now are low to the ground, wide, stable catwalks that you can walk on to get from one short slide to the next with a central gazebo type thingy great for standing on.


The only remnants of the playgrounds of yore (if you're lucky) are shorter versions of the parts that I always considered to be stupid and are largely ignored by modern kids, too: the fireman pole and those ladder shaped monkey bars that no kid ever has the upper body strength to maneuver.  If you want to swing, get in line.  There are fewer of those, too.

I remember spending a lot of time and energy trying to dissuade Frick when he was younger from climbing up the now much shorter slides instead of sliding down them because of the potential for head-on collisions.  Now I realize that he was only trying to make this incredibly un-challenging playground more fun.

For a 10 year old, this is not a fun time.
Because if you don't climb up the slide there is nothing left to climb.  (Do those stupid short climbing walls that can only fit one child at a time count?  Not in my books.  Also, their ridiculously shallow toe-holds seem to make them more dangerous than old-school monkey bars, not less.)

Last year the suckiness of modern playgrounds really hit home.  There is a seven year age difference between Frick and Frack.  So while the sucky playground is still fun for 4 year old Frack it is downright unwelcomiong to 11 year old Frick.

I've noticed that when Frick and his friends try to have fun on the play-structure the parents of the younger children seem to resent them even being there.  They feel that the older kids are setting a bad example in their attempting to climb the structure in a way that was clearly not intended by its design (ie. fun).  They are much more likely to be yelled at to "Slow down and look out for the little ones!" than, say, the 6 and 7 year olds who are running just as recklessly.  One time I overheard a parent say to another something to the effect them being "too old" to play there and "Why don't they go somewhere else?"

So, adding to the suckiness of the playground is now a bunch of sucky parents acting like my kid's idea of enjoyment is making their toddler fall down (it isn't).  I don't ever remember seeing an adult on the play structures of my childhood but today kids can't run around on one without bumping into over-zealous parents.

Parents who seems to resent their desire to run because it's fun and because it's the last bastion of exercise on these pitiful, prefab, Fisher-Price monstrosities.  Parents who seem to think that the public parks were only designed for very small children and who seem to forget that the older kids have just as much a right to play there, too.  And why shouldn't they think the playground was only designed for very small children?   It was!

What are we doing when we participate in this way to dissuade older children from fun at the park?  Where else do we expect them to go?  What is there for a 10-13 year old child to do if they don't have the park?  Get into trouble, that's what.

For example, in our neighbourhood we have The Hobo Hole.

Our local park is on the edge of a protected wooded area that boasts all kinds of great hiking trails.  I think it's great for Frick and his friends to explore this area except that there's this Hobo Hole.  They told me it's a small campsite hidden in the bushes where, presumably, a hobo lives.  I think I have to draw the line at the possibility of these kids running into a homeless and possible mentally deranged man-of-the-woods.

This is what we're left with here, people.  We've made playgrounds so sucky that kids are contemplating hanging out with hobos in the woods where I seriously doubt they'll be regaled with tales of ridin' the rails as they eat beans out of a can.  Still, that's what passes as a thrilling challenge to children who really ought to be finding their fun at the parks but instead find themselves to be bored or unwelcome.

Surely there has to be some middle ground between safety and fun.  A middle playground perhaps?

(For some truly awesome playgrounds check out Our Favorite Dangerous Playgrounds)

And now without further ado, here are the other Themed Thursday bloggers.  I'm very curious to see what their take on playgrounds are:

Something Clever 2.0.
Aspiring to the Middle
Cloudy With a Chance of Wine
I Like Beer and Babies
Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom
a calibama state of mind
The Next Step

If I've left anyone out I apologize.  Just let me know and I will rectify that immediately.

Wednesday 3 October 2012

A Weird thing Happened on the Way to School Today....

Ever have the bizarre experience of having an entire conversation through your child?  I've heard of this phenomenon before usually through anecdotes people tell about their passive aggressive mothers-in-law.  But since I get along great with mine I had yet to have the experience.  I certainly didn't expect it to come in this form.

Because it was truly nutty.

Every day when I walk Frack to school I bring the dog with us and let Frack let run ahead of me.  It makes him feel grownup.  He knows he can run as far as the Stop sign at the corner and then he waits there for me.  This time was no different but I guess someone saw him standing there from around the corner and maybe thought that he might be alone because they couldn't see me.  I could see he was talking to someone.

Then that someone came into view and I saw it was the Standard Poodle Lady.  The one who lets her dog walk all over the place and shit smack dab in the middle of people's lawns.  She has her four year old son with her.  When I finally catch up to Frack I can tell she is having a hard time understanding him.

"What's that, honey?"

He is trying to tell her his name.  When I get there she smiles at me and then makes a big point of asking his name again and he rolls his eyes with the "I already told you, Lady" look on his face and says "Back!"

She looks at me expectantly and says nothing.

"Oh!  Uh...his name is Frack."

Then she looks back at Frack.

"Hello, Frack.  How old are you Frack?"

He tells her "Bour."

She looks at me with eyebrows raised, still saying nothing.

"He's four."

"Well my little boy is four, too.  Do you go to school?"


"Are you in Mrs. Smith's class, too?

"No,  Misses Di-in-nnerrrr."  (This is how he pronounces "Dillinger")

She asks him to repeat himself a few more times before looking at me expectantly to provide her with the silently requested translation.  This process goes on for several more questions.  Do you like school?  Is that your dog?  What's his name? etc.  Meanwhile all I'm trying to do while translating for Frack is get past her without letting our dogs get too close.

The only time I have little control over my dog is when he's around other dogs.  My tactic has always been to avoid these situations unless I know that the other dog is well behaved and under the control of its owner.  I have mentioned before that Mrs. Standard Poodle's control over her dog is dubious at best.  But did I mention that Mrs. Standard Poodle is also hugely pregnant?

I'm genuinely worried that our dogs are going to cause her to fall over making her go into early labour while worrying about appearing rude because I'm desperately trying to get away from her because I'm worried about my dog asphyxiating on his choke collar in his enthusiasm to get to the Standard Poodle.

It's pretty amazing that I should be so worried about seeming rude to someone who hasn't even bothered to talk to me while simultaneously getting me to perform interpreter services in what seems to be the most awkwardly contrived adult-child interaction in history.  It's even more amazing that she kept trying to continue the conversation as we were walking away from her.

"Do you like your teacher?  Are you in the afternoon class, too?  Is that where you're going now?"

Is it safe to say this lady is officially weird and avoid any future contact with her?  'Cause I'm totally doing that.