Marika Malaea

faithful marauder + fake royal

The Sky Is Falling

with 13 comments

IM TWENTY-NINE.

I'M TWENTY-NINE.

I’m getting older and it’s all your fault.  No, not you – behind you – yes, YOU.  You are to blame, you stupid fucking mirror.  REFLECT THIS (I’m air-humping the mirror – and now I’m breaking up with it – and now I’m drunk-texting it with my ‘real feelings’ that I will conveniently forget tomorrow – SOUND FAMILIAR, ANYONE).   I also blame you, reader: yes, YOU.  In addition to not making me famous yet, you have failed to make me richer – in fact, I’m rolling in Monopoly money and obscurity, something you should all be accountable for.

I like my age – 29 is a good year.  Too bad I’m 32.  There are women who age gracefully – Jackie O, Blythe Danner, Dame Judi Dench, real-life princesses, Somalian supermodels married to David Bowie – and then there’s me and John GoodmanWe age like alcoholic honkies in the Deep, Deep South.  My silver hairs – all 4, 296 of them – can’t dye themselves, thank you very much.  And my eyebrows!  I’m like the Mark Twain of the Pacific Northwest.  Where did all of this unruly hair come from?  Instead of cascading down my back like a unicorn’s rainbow-colored mane, it’s a bristly fucking weed that insists on growing in any type of weather.

Why I Feel Old, Reason #82:  I hate my son’s hair.  I was going to be one of those “cool parents”, the one who could care less about Japanese anime hair color, and then my 10-year old decided Zach Ephron had a rad fucking haircutZach.  Ephron. This hideous Ken Doll kid… THIS NINE OH TWO ONE OH BACKSTREET BOY is my son’s Beatles-inspired hairstyle god.  I thought I was going to be cool – and I thought the son I’d birthed from my own crazy awesome womb would be totally fucking cool I was wrong.

Why I Feel Old, Reason #364:  “I really like this one band, been listening to them and stuff.  I don’t know if you’ve heard of them… it starts with an ‘L’… maybe you know them… Limp Bizkit.”  So said my son (WHOM I HAVE SINCE DISOWNED) about one of his favorite bands:  Limp.  Bizkit.  Also on his Ipod: 311 (are they even a band anymore?), Nickelback (“HIIIICKS!” she shrieked in agony. “MOTHER. FUCKING. HIIIIICKS!”), Oh-for-the-love-of Godsmack, Good Charlotte,  Blink 182, and whatever faux-mo hipster pop-rock band Pete Wendst is pretending to be in these days. Stupid eyeliner-wearing assholes.

DAMN IT ALL.  That’s a serious PARENT FAIL.  My son worships Fred fucking Durst?!  Fred’s rise to fame was about as long as his manhood (NOT LONG – remember his sex tape scandal?) – how can my son love music that only deaf-mute mole babies would ever appreciate? I *hate* people who have terrible taste in music, and here I birthed the musical anti-Christ out of my very own front parlor, or whatever the kids are calling it these days. The Esq remarked, “Wow, he just named every band I’ve ever truly hated” – and I had to agree.  I wonder if there’s a pill he could take to elevate his taste in music (something besides Ecstasy); if that really existed, I would secretly give it to a handful of friends, no kidding.

When my son was four, he told me that Creed (CREED!!!) was his favorite band, and I kid you not, the very next year he was living full-time with his father.  Coincidence? I think not.  One thing I hate more than Limp Bizkit:  fake Jesus poser rock care of fake Jesus poser, Scott Stapp.  Just goes to prove that *everything* in Florida is cheap and untalented.  Isn’t that where Jeb Bush lives?  But I digress.

So.  I don’t really feel old.  I’m just observing my son who’s turning into a tweener, which can only lead to Rampant Teenagerism and an East Coast military boarding school – and that’s when I feel old, old, old.  I had high hopes for my ‘coolness’ factor in the beginning – but now I’m like every other parent, pushing hair out of his eyes and telling him to turn that worthless music down.  I feel like my mother.  That’s not a bad thing, but come on – isn’t it a bit early?  I’m only 29; my life is just beginning!

Thanks to Miss Jenny and her Very Early Birthday Present, I’ll be re-living my youth at the Lady GaGa concert on March 16th – and OH EM GEE it’s getting re-lived.  I’ve got big hair, big lips, huge knockers, and booty for days:  each one will be severely and inappropriately displayed in a fashion my mother would disapprove of, which is totally the point. Take THAT, Zach Ephron.

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Written by sn0tteh

March 6, 2009 at 6:46 PM

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged with , , , , , ,

13 Responses

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  1. I’ve somehow managed to get most of the mirrors out of my house, but it’s not helping the self-esteem, for some reason.

    sn0tteh

    March 6, 2009 at 7:18 PM

  2. Wait, you do an entire blog about poor music taste then as you are getting ready for a Lady GaGa show?
    And you said the christians were hypocrites .

    Kiki

    March 6, 2009 at 7:18 PM

  3. Dude, Lady GaGa is super fun to dance to – and I KNOW the concerts you’ve been to, bitch, so don’t even front.

    sn0tteh

    March 6, 2009 at 10:38 PM

  4. I think I love you…

    stacymarie

    March 6, 2009 at 11:51 PM

  5. If you’ve got a thing for chicks who look like John Goodman, I’m your girl.

    sn0tteh

    March 7, 2009 at 12:14 AM

  6. Just wait…when I was younger I loved music that my parents hated just to annoy them. I mean do I like Alice Cooper or Ozzy Osbourne now? NO. The Snoop Dogg love and the Warren G love hung on for realz but I ditched the heavy metal type shit when I completed my puberty.

    And now even though I never admitted it then, I love my parents music….The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac….and I HATED it when I was younger.

    Buttercup

    March 7, 2009 at 12:42 AM

  7. If he listens to Slipknot, then you know an intervention is in order. If we stay in Nashville, my daughter could grow up worshipping Taylor Swift or Martina McBride or something equally horrible. You’re not alone….

    LilRed

    March 7, 2009 at 3:47 AM

  8. No comments on the music where I know I’m out of my league as far as trying to be cool, but I will nitpick and offer some correct spellings. It is Pete (and ‘Ass-lee’) “Wentz” not “Wendst.” Oh, and “Zac Efron.” He’s not at all related to Nora Ephron. That I know of. Plus he goes by “Zac.” As in “sac.”

    And speaking of eyeliner…

    Manthony

    March 7, 2009 at 8:27 AM

  9. Oh, thank God. I didn’t know how to spell EITHER of their names – I’m not as big a loser as I’d thought. Thanks, Manthony! 🙂

    Yeah, I’m not changing it, either – those two people can perish from crotch rot, for all I care.

    sn0tteh

    March 7, 2009 at 9:10 AM

  10. Also…I know a real life John Goodman (very large tall manly lesbian who dresses like Dan Connor). So much so that we call her John Goodman behind her back. You are far too Samoan to be John Goodman. Never have I been tempted to call you John Goodman behind your back.

    Buttercup

    March 7, 2009 at 7:48 PM

  11. I debated whether to offer the correct spellings since it would draw attention to the facts that I: a) noticed the names were misspelled and b) knew the correct spellings off the top of my head. I blame my previous addiction to PerezHilton.com from which I have since recovered.

    And I totally agree, bring on the crotch rot!

    Manthony

    March 8, 2009 at 3:38 AM

  12. I always liked John Goodman. Even if he is an alcoholic honky from the deep, deep south. OH, and Sac Efron’s hair is a modified “flap,” in case nobody else noticed. He’ll have the toilet seat hairline in another ten years. Trust me.


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