Sup at the Trough of Suburban Satire

It's quiet here on the Blah Blah blog -- not a whole lot of blah blah-ing going on -- and I think that is less because I have little to say and more that I fear if I start typing, I won't stop, and it will mostly be negative. I am going through a rough patch, where people's incivility and thoughtlessness seem to be magnified times ten, simply because there is so much of it.

Why empty that out into the Internet? On some level, I am a big believer in "what you put out, you will get back," but if that is true then that must mean I am a pretty shitty person, considering what I have been getting back lately. I don't think I am that bad, but you never know.

SHAMELESS COMMERCIAL PLUG!

Moving on, because I'm boring even myself with this post: Let me add here a plug for the Showtime series, Weeds, if you haven't seen it. The premise of the show is that a woman's husband has died and, suddenly widowed in the San Fernando Valley with no other means of support*, she turns to selling pot to keep her family in the lifestyle to which they've become accustomed. Of course, many funny and not-so-funny situations ensue as a result. But the show is clever, and different, and I kind of like it.** I must also mention that it has one of the best opening sequences/theme songs ever --unlike one of my other new favorite shows, Big Love, whose opening credits force me to leave the room.

SHAMELESS VIVA PLUG***

I think I mentioned that Viva got a bike for her birthday. Here you go:


I know that she is not actually riding the bike in this picture -- it may, in fact, look like she's making off with someone else's bike -- but I can assure you that this is indeed her pride and joy, upon which she tears up the sidewalk with gusto.

I tried for three seconds to come up with a segue from the bike to church, but I lost patience, so I'm just rolling into it. Viva is now obsessed with going to church, since her Best Friend went on Easter and reported back.

Viva: I'm going to go to church, right?
Mama Blah: Yes, we'll go this weekend.
Viva: What do they do at church?
Mama Blah: Well, a whole bunch of people come in and sit down and there's music and then the minister stands up and talks about God and how we can all be better people.
Viva: What?? That's not what [Best Friend] said!
Mama Blah: Well, that's basically what it is.
Viva [furiously]: NO!
Mama Blah: Okay, what did [Best Friend] say you do at church?
Viva: You PLAY, and they have SLIDES, and you can color!
Mama Blah: She must have gone to Sunday School. She didn't mention anything about Jesus? Or -- did they tell any stories, maybe?
Viva: NO. You PLAY.

Okay, so evidently from what she's heard, church is practically akin to LEGOLAND. I have a feeling she's going to be sorely disappointed.

And here we go from the care of the soul to the care of the body (who says I can't segue): last Friday, Viva had her 3-year check-up at the pediatrician. She is again right about average for height (37.5 inches) and weight (29.5 pounds), but her head circumference is off the charts. I'm pretty sure it's because she has such a gigantic brain. Anyway, our regular pediatrician wasn't available, so we had a new one, and in between all the other normal questions she was asking, she asked, "And is she your birth child?" I answered yes and she moved on to the next question before I realized that whether Viva came out of my womb or not had nothing to do with anything. To me, it is pretty obvious that Viva and I are related. I think some of our features are similar enough that people could tell she is biologically mine. But because I am so light-skinned and she is quite brown, some people assume she is adopted. (Not if her daddy is with us, but I digress.) Will that affect whether I see this doctor again? Hell, yes.

SHAMELESS CONSUMPTION

I just had a bowl of tomato soup and tortilla chips and I feel like I am going into sleepy food coma. Must. Carry. On.

Aw, screw it. Catch you on the flip side.

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* Since I am a latecomer to the show, I don't know why she has no other means of support. She must have been a stay-at-home mom whose husband had little to no life insurance. And she has no formal education or job experience ever? Whatever, I guess one has to suspend one's disbelief and just watch the show, but if anyone out there has been watching it and knows the answers to these questions, holla back in the comments.

** Although Sweet William makes the point that if the main character (who is white) were a black woman doing the same thing, this show wouldn't even be on the air -- if the pilot even got made, the public outrage would kill the show out of the gate. You may not agree, but I'm putting it out there as something to think about.

*** That subheading doesn't sound quite right. It makes me envision some sort of electrical adaptor with VIVA! written all over it in some kind of wacky font. Or some weird sex toy, which, considering this is actually about my kid, is the ultimate in gross squicky-ickiness.