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Inspirational Reads

Moosical Interlude

February 24, 2010

Last night, my son was in a little musical theatrical production. He and the rest of his kindergarten ilk gathered together on a series of risers and belted out some barnyard-themed songs. Some children were selected to recite bad--but kitschy--poetry. It tore at the heart.

I'd post some pictures, but I can't. They're all ruined.

I stood at the back of the gymnasium/auditorium, because I'm tall...and also because I got there late-ish. As the wee ones came trooping into the gym for the show, the ten rows of people seated in front of me did what any group of parents and grandparents of kindergarten-aged children do when their spawn are involved in a public presentation:

They made asses of themselves.

See, I tried to snap a few digital pictures of my proud and handsome lad there on the third riser with my 2 megapixel camera. Instead of getting his shining, smiling, beaming face, I got someone's bald spot. I also got a picture of a fabulously bad dye job that looked more like a dead animal perched precariously atop someone's skull and less like hair. Although, I guess some dead animals have hair, too. This looked like and albino raccoon had been rolling in molasses. So chique. I also got what I can only assume is a Bubba-Gump shrimpin' hat...not really, but it was a baseball cap wedged right into the space between the aperture of my camera and where my son stood. Because, you know, it would have been too much to ask for you to fucking duck while you're wandering around the back of the assembly where people are trying to take pictures.

It's a hat. Probably not Bubba-Gump. I just wanted to keep with the theme this week. It is, after all, "Can't Get Enough Gumpweek".

My personal favorite catch with the camera? The flabby arms of a portly mother waving to get her urchin's attention. As I snapped it, she uncannily put the three foot wide swath of flesh and cellulite into the space containing my son's face. The blurred image can only really be described as a cross between a walrus' flipper and a stack of donuts.

God, I love school assemblies.

Fortunately, God loves me back and thus he struck my batteries low on power (again), so I had to put the camera away. As the children were singing about pigs and goats and cows fucking or something, my attention waned. So, I did what any man would do in my situation:

I began counting MILFs.

I got to seven...starting with my wife, of course! *shifty-eyed*

I broke off my count when I started picking up on a disturbing trend. There's a lot of people who have procreated and sent their progeny to my children's school who have a smiling problem. Now, this isn't to say that smiling is a bad thing. It can brighten your day or lure a kitten into your clutches long enough to punt it. This is something completely different.

When the smiling is the person's default idle face, that's when it becomes a problem. Like, they're just motoring along, not really interacting with anyone, just passing through the crowd and this big, lurid, evil grin is drawn across their faces. It wasn't just one particular group, either: men, women, old, middle-aged, young...everyone was afflicted. And it was unsettling. Mostly because if you have a face that's built so that, at rest, it's still smiling, then you don't look natural. With these big, wide, googly eyes and a pained rictus drawing your lips back over your teeth, you look somewhere between "driving a black van allegedly filled with candy" and "why so serious?"

And when you get a dozen of these jokers (heh) wandering around in a confined space...things begin to get a little creepy. Seriously people, stop it. Stop giving me dopey, freaky nightmares about what you do with ponies and cabbage patch dolls. I don't want to think about it.

The performance? Oh, it was nice. A good distraction from the Arkham refugees that were littering the fucking place. My son did a good job and I clapped. Apparently louder than anyone in the room. I got a lot of lights to shut off, I guess.

Hey, that old lady can't do it all by herself.

During one of the songs, a teacher put on a cow costume with a bright pink udder glued to it. As she was a...larger...woman, I have to say, she's got some serious cajones. I applauded her loudly, too, because clearly, this was a woman who was comfortable with herself enough to strap an udder to her belly and shimmy and shake. It was nice to see that she wasn't so serious...


Scope said...

Fear not. Maybe your sun hasn't yet been cropped out of the pictures of the couple who hired the wedding photographer and videographer to record their childs first concert for later use when they audition for "American Idol" and they will sell you some.

Adam L. said...

At least those crazy people made for some interesting stories!

Got to look on the bright side...

Elliott said...

Nice. I'm having a vision of Nursie from 'Blackadder', when they had a fancy dress party and she came as a cow, with udders glued all over herself.

Which took me to this image:

Chemgeek said...

In a week my daughters pre-school class will be doing a performance of "The Lion and the Mice." I can't wait. I love legitimate theater.

SkylersDad said...

I share your dislike of school assemblies. I actually fear them because I always have Viet Nam style flashbacks to being knocked unconscious by a large ladies flapping tricep.

I still sometimes wake up screaming and bathed in sweat.

kate said...

Do these assemblies really have any "singing" in them or is it more along the lines of "four dozen 5-year-olds screaming words together"? That's all I remember having seen my sister's elementary school choir concerts.

Speaking of "Gump Week" - have you seen the re-branding of the movie that they've been doing during commercial breaks? Hilarious! I saw the one on Monday where they previewed "Forrest Gump" as a gangsta movie - you know, "watch as his baby mama hits a nasty downward spiral into drugs and booze" and "his homey gets taken out during a drive by".

otherworldlyone said...

I'm going to register my daughter for kindergarten this Friday. Let the games begin. OLE!

Wait...she only had ONE udder strapped to her cow suit?? That's wrong...

Mala said...

HA! Elliott I had the same visual! Nursie always goes as a crazy udder-obsessed cow.
Mmmmmmm, Roman Atkinson in a black leather cod piece.
What were we talking about?

Mala said...
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Mala said...
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Amber Tidd Murphy said...

I love other people's arm flab. It makes me feel more confident.

mo.stoneskin said...

Looks like Mala was having a few issues.

Question is, if you were short and late, what would you have done? A Zacchaeus?

Tish said...

So was Old MacDonald's farm about cows fucking?! You miss so much subtext when you're 5.

Missy said...

I want to see a pic of the teacher in a cow suit! LOL

MJenks said...

@ Scope: Or, I can just keep it locked in up here. *taps temple*

@ Adam L: I enter every activity/assembly/birthday party with an eye toward blog fodder. BUT, since my wife reads this, I've (several times) let a story go untold so that I, you know, might have the sex again some day.

Hmmm...that was really off-topic, wasn't it?

@ Elliot: You know what's funny? The part about punting a kitten? It was a veiled reference to a Black Adder episode I watched in college.

@ Chemgeek: Throughout the performance, you should keep yelling out "Where the hell is Lenny?" And then after about the third time say, louldy, "Oh, the Lion and the Mice. I thought this was Of Mice and Men"

@ SkyDad: Underarm flab: Ruining school pictures since the inception of photography.

Also, do you hear Hendrix when the arms start flapping?

I personally hear "The End" by the Doors.

@ kate: Well, yeah, there's mostly that. But, he was proud of himself, and I guess that's what matters. It helps if you show up drunk and stand at the back of the auditorium/gym.

And...I was thinking something like that as I was watching the movie. It was something more along the lines of "everyone he meets gets shot".

OtherWorldlyOne: Well, it was an udder with four teats. Which...well...yeah.

@ Mala: Apparently, you really left us for the day dream, didn't you, eh, Triple Poster?

@ Amber: That confidence will be rocked by gaggles of grinning gremlins. Trust me.

@ Mo: Yeah, there was a stack of mats at the back of the auditorium/gym. I would have climbed up there. And then subsequently fallen off. Massive head trauma, for the win!

@ Tish: As I told my wife when she came home one night and asked "Do you know how many songs there are about sex?": "All of them."

So, yes, Old McDonald was quite into animal husbandry.

@ Missy: I'm sure I could find one...but I didn't snap any. I figured she was brave enough to do it, she didn't need to be further denegrated on the internets.

Nej said...

That picture of Mr. McDonald is fucking creepy. I'm just sayin'. :-)

The people at your school balance out the people at the last school function I went to for my niece and nephew. NO ONE was smiling. Everyone was stomping around, pissed off at the world. It was a winter concert for young children...and I could think of more fun things to do...but it wasn't THAT bad. :-) :-) :-)