How Not to Talk to Your Teen About Drugs

Something is terribly wrong in my household.

Instead of me reprimanding my kids for what they say, they reprimand me.  I'm constantly getting, "Mom, you can't mention your love of beer on Facebook.  You're a teacher."  Really?  As if the two aren't part of a symbiotic relationship.

I'm also told not to talk to my kids' friends about my politics.  "Please, mom. No lectures about factories in Bangladesh.  Just drive us to the mall."

There is no backlash from teens in my fantasy life.

Like the other day.  When I was watching a sitcom with all three of them and a character alluded to marijuana brownies.  I turned to my 20-year old.  "Have you ever had marijuana brownies?"

"Of course not," he replied.

"We'll have to make them for your 21st birthday."

"Mom!" the two oldest yelled, pointing their heads towards their 15-year old sibling.

"What's the big deal?  I'm sure he's heard of marijuana brownies." I turned toward Youngest.  "Have you heard of marijuana brownies?"

He nodded.

And then I get from Oldest, "It's the beer talking. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying," I retorted.  "I'm saying we'll have marijuana brownies for your 21st birthday.  It's much safer than binging on alcohol."

"You won't remember this is the morning," Oldest Son said.

And sure enough, once I woke up I got a "talking to" from Oldest.   "Mom, I don't mind you talking about marijuana around me, but you're being a bad role model for Youngest."

I feel rather indignant when people try to edit me, but I had to admit that maybe Oldest Son was right.  I had a talk with Youngest.

"You know, last night, what I said about marijuana brownies?"

He nodded.

Well...we can't have them because marijuana is illegal.  Now if we lived in Ann Arbor or Boulder Colorado.... Wait.  I mean...it's not just that marijuana is illegal...it's a mind-altering substance.  And if you were to eat the brownies, you'd be sprawled out on the couch with a bag of Doritos laughing your arse off at Saturday Night Live.  Wait.  Saturday Night Live isn't that funny any more even with a side of brownies.  I mean...you'd be sprawled out on the couch with a bag of Doritos and laughing your arse off at Family Guy.  Wait.  You already do that. All the time.  You see what I mean? We don't need marijuana brownies to have a good time!

He nodded.

I rock sometimes.



****



Full disclosure:  I had to look up the word symbiotic to make sure I was using it correctly.  I'm still not sure, but I'm not letting you tell me to replace it.

Dude, Where Have You Been All My Life?

In a brief break from my current cleavage obsession, I’ve found someone who I fancy. Or shall I day whom I fancy?

It’s none other than Jeff Deck, the dude from the Typo Eradication Advancement League (TEAL) who travels the country correcting errors on government signs with white-out.




TEAL’s mission statement: We do not blame, nor chastise, the authors of these typos. It is natural for mistakes to occur; everybody will slip now and again. But slowly the once-unassailable foundations of spelling are crumbling, and the time has come for the crisis to be addressed.

Hallelujah!


Recently Deck was sentenced to a year of probation for defacing a hand-painted sign at the Grand Canyon and is now banned from the national parks.



That got me to thinking. Maybe while he's taking time off, Deck could volunteer to remedy other language issues.

For starters, how about these babies:




Credit Card disclosure statements are riddled with mistakes. Take this sentence:

Any holder of this consumer credit contract is subject to all claims and defenses which the debtor could assert against the seller of goods or services obtained pursuant hereto or with the proceeds hereof.

Now even I know you’re not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition.

And hereof is a preposition. And so is the word hereunder in the sentence that follows.

Or at least I think hereunder is a word. But I admit I don't know what hereunder means.

In fact, I don’t get the whole frickin’ thing.


And this one throws me every time:

OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR




I swear I don’t know understand this. I think Deck should rewrite this so I know whether the semi that's about to pass me is close enough to view my cleavage in the mirror or in real life.


And whenever I go to vote my brain hurts. Like with this provision in the MEDICAL MARIJUANA LAW:


A primary caregiver who receives compensation for actual
expenses, including reasonable compensation incurred for services
provided to an eligible qualified patient or person with an
identification card to enable that person to use marijuana under this
article, or for payment for out-of-pocket expenses incurred in
providing those services, or both, shall not, on the sole basis of
that fact, be subject to prosecution or punishment under Section
11359 or 11360.




Are they trying to say that if you’re dealing to a guy with glaucoma, you won’t get busted?

Seriously, what gives? I think Deck needs switch over to paraphrasing. What's the point of correcting spelling and grammar when the whole texts read like you've been smoking medical marijuana.

If Deck does still want to continue to leave his mark on private and public signs, I have a suggestion:

Instead of defacing them, why not stick a Post-It note on them with this stamp?



That way, you’ve made your point and don’t risk being booted away from Old Faithful and the like.

Anyway, Jeff, I respect what you're doing. And the arrest only confirms that you're my typo. Call me.


BTW, Jeff, you're not really correcting typos. You're correcting stupid-ass mistakes, so that whole mission statement makes no sense really. Start there.


For all kinds of different typos, check out Humor-Blogs where you can VOTE for this post and others.