I just realized that almost every grown girl I know really truly ruly wanted an Easy Bake Oven when they were children.
Nearly every one.
Even some boys wanted that thing.
But no one ever got one. Well, I knew one girl who had one, but she put her hamster in the oven…. she said he liked it because it kept him warm. I think she was a Nazi in a former life and I’m certain that she is now painting poignant portraits of clowns along with John Wayne Gacy. Or she’s maybe a stripper.
Disclaimer: We at Weetabix.dairyland.com do not insinuate that all strippers are serial killers or clown portrait artists. The opinions expressed by Weetabix on the subject of hamster cookers and Easy Bake Ovens are strictly her own.
Anyway, parents, if you have a child who’s been begging up and down for an Easy Bake Oven, just suck it up and buy it for them. Because if you don’t, they will grow up to be a bitter 30 year old who still likes to wear glittery barrettes and dress like Britney Spears. Even if your child is a boy.
But maybe you shouldn’t if they have a hamster.
So Saturday: I had planned to spend the entire day in my sweat pants, eschewing an invitation to see my friend Phil’s band playing and all that. Esteban left, wifeless, and I ensconced myself quite happily before my monitor, browsing the labrynth of MightyBigTv.
Suddenly, a knock on the door. It was 9:30 at night.
I peeked. It was Scott. I opened the door.
“Hi, I was in the neigborhood and thought I’d stop by.”
Thinking he was there to go to the thing with Esteban, I said, “Esteban’s already gone to Phil’s gig.”
“I see that. How come you’re not going?”
So I tried to explain about the sweat pants thing and about the dress which made me look like a poorly-upholstered sofa but it just seemed really lame as he was standing on my porch, white clouds of breath coming from his mouth.
“If you want, I could drive you there and then you would be there with your husband and stuff?” He said, smiling.
I was running out of excuses. He kept smiling. “I’d have to change.” I said feebly.
“I won’t look.” He said, still smiling.
I sighed. The world hates sweatpants. My quest for an All SweatPants All The Time weekend was not only for naught, but also really lame when I thought about it. Plus, Scott’s goofy grin was impossible to say no to.
“(sigh) Fine! Come in.” I said, then realized I had not a thing to wear.
I quickly changed, slapped on some warpaint, fluffed up the ‘do and five minutes later, was on my merry way, attired in black leggings, grey v-neck sweater, grey Ass-Splinter pearls, and a black blazer (as a jacket to keep warm), to Phil’s gig.
It turns out I was severly overdressed. I should have stayed in the sweat pants. Phil was playing in a former “Cracked Crock” Restaurant off the highway which now called itself “Sports Bar #1432”. In reality, the clientele was all 40-60 year old wizened motorcycle hooligans. Which, actually, is the perfect crowd for Phil’s band.
I guess I never realized it before, but watching live bands, particularly ones which aren’t necessarily incredible, always aggravates me because I keep sort of hoping that someone will say “Hey, Weetabix, why don’t you join us on this next song!?”
And then I would.
Yes, I need help. I am fully aware of this.
I’m working on another copywriting project for my former college roommate. This one will be an advertisement in a sports type periodical, showing a “National Enquirer” type newspaper. I had to write the headlines, but I added some articles, too. This one cracked me up.
Government Reanimates John Madden’s Corpse
It has recently been discovered that John Madden has actually been dead since 1991!!!
On November 13, 1991, during a rather spectacular Monday Night Football between the Washington Redskins and the San Francisco 49ers, John Madden asphyxiated on a large piece of kielbasa. Paramedics worked on the aged football great for several station breaks and were unable to revive him. Thanks to a quick thinking NFL Commissioner, who put in an immediate phone call to President George Bush, Madden’s body was sent to top-secret laboratories where it was reanimated using a highly advanced technique.
Scientists are able to keep Madden going and under control via a large mobile laboratory disguised as a luxury touring bus. There his corpse is injected with several top secret chemicals and shocked with electrical impulses, much like Mary Shelley’s 1817 book Frankenstein.
Madden’s body, however, is starting to deteriorate. ‘His nose fell off a few weeks ago. Thank goodness it was during a commercial break. We glued it back on though’ an unnamed source relayed.
‘I’m surprised we’ve been able to keep the secret this long,’ said a scientist when our reporter confronted him. ‘I think that Dennis Miller has started to figure it out. He keeps making necrophilia comments. Thank goodness no one really understands what he’s talking about anyway.’
