Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Theory of Devolution - Life is Good

Every day I am living more and more like a teenage boy. It's true. My 12-year-old daughter is visiting her grandparents so it's just me and the 16-year-old boy here for a couple of weeks.

Here are a few of the signs of my devolution:
Last week, I went with my teenage son to a midnight viewing of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.

I went to the bookstore and bought The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks.
I spend a good bit of time on Reddit. Advice from Jacob: "Always check the subreddit before you click on it, Mom. Always! Never go to WTF. YOU should NEVER go to WTF."
Last night at 10 pm, I rode with my son while he drove to four different stores looking for Funyuns. When the new song by Carly Rae Jepson and Owl City came on, I cursed in protest and changed the station to this song (Owl City truly is the most nauseating musical act in history):
We stayed up until 5 am watching four episodes of Breaking Bad. I am extremely caught up in the world of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman, of Saul and Gustavo and Mike and Black Victor (that's not his real name but he replaced dead Victor and I don't know his real name). I want someone to murder Hector by shoving his bell somewhere really painful. I want Skylar to take out a hit on her moronic ex-boss. I can't stop adding "bitch" to the end of my sentences.

(One sign that I have not completely devolved is that I am generally very sad for Jesse and I want to take him in and help him get his life on the right track.)

We ate a lot of Funyuns, bitch.

While watching late-night television, I realized all the commercials are targeted at elderly people. The loop of commercials included one for a scooter, one for a cancer treatment center, and one for an erectile dysfunction treatment that involves vacuum therapy. I don't even want to know what that entails. I bet it sucks.

During the fifth viewing of the scooter commercial around 4 am, when the creepy looking old man in a wood shop says, "Now I can get back to the important things in life...," I said, "Like molesting this young boy behind me."

Then Jacob and I both laughed so hard that we might have hurt ourselves.

I got up at noon, woke up the teenage boy, and we went to Waffle House where Jacob ordered a waffle, two eggs sunny side up, toast, hash browns, bacon, a Coke, and orange juice. Good Lord, there's something thrilling about watching a person order so much food! It's like sitting down to a meal with Henry the VIII.

We might even see Ted the day it opens. It's supposed to be really stupid, perfect for devolved humans. If you'd like to join us Friday afternoon for a trip to the theater, RSVP in the comments.


Bring your own Funyuns, bitch.


  1. I really wish I could join you on this excursion.

    1. I trust I will be seeing you Friday night for another excursion, right? I figure "Magic Mike" is proof that I haven't fully turned into a teenage boy.

  2. This sounds remarkably similar to my life, except I don't have a teenage son to blame it on. The old creeper's line in the scooter commercial would also work for the E.D. commercial, "Now I can get back to the important things in life..." As would your response, "Like molesting this young boy behind me."

    1. The ED commercial features a wife sitting in a swing and her old man husband lying on the ground beneath the swing. I said, "WHAT in the world is going on here?! Is that a sex swing?"

      Jacob said, "Mom, that's a TIRE swing."

  3. this is filled with so much awesome. i wish i could join you in seeing TED.

    1. Today we watched three more episodes of Breaking Bad. We're all caught up and ready for season 5 to start in July. I wish I could spend all my summers watching awesome shows with my son and staying up too late. Instead of worrying about jobs and money and BS, I'm going to be grateful for this time. I'm lucky to have it.


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