Teeny Manolo

Dear Mom to Your Couldn’t Have Been Older Than 12 Year Old Son,

Come a little closer to me.   Yes, a little closer now…

Sorry, but I really needed to give you a good smack upside the head.

Because what are you thinking, allowing your young, impressionable son to wear this in public?

Oh, let me guess. You weren’t thinking at all, were you?

I was truly speechless to see a boy sporting such a shirt as this. I already question people who dine at Hooters with young kids, much less those giving a hearty two thumbs up to wearing a Hooters T-shirt. I thought about trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you fought him tooth and nail on this, and compromised with permission only if he read 30 books in a year, and then he could wear it once.

I’m guessing, however, that this wasn’t the case. And it wasn’t Dad’s shirt, because the shirt fit your son quite well.

And yes, I am going to judge you. Because we are lying to ourselves if we think we don’t judge people by what they wear. We may try not to, because we all know that it is what’s on the inside that counts. But when I am sharing a restaurant with you and am forced into staring at this lovely graphic during my meal, I’m just not inclined to look much deeper than the shirt.

So Mom, I’m going to look askance at you. With a son that young, you should be able to put your foot down and insist that he cannot wear it out.

Or how about this revolutionary idea, that this particular piece of clothing do a little disappearing act from the closet altogether? Or some “accidentally” spilled bleach? Or claiming it was the only item around while the cat was having kittens?

If you need more ideas, you know how to reach me.

Smooches,
Glinda

This kid-based trailer for The Dark Knight from Wizard Universe is perhaps the most glorious single YouTube in all of recorded history. Why so serious indeed!

via Defamer

Their parents must be so, so very proud. From the country which gave us the concept of quiet dignity (as well as the concept of embarrassment) comes news of a party of teenage revelers too giddy to notice details such as the incoming tide, the fact that the party was located on a cliff ledge in Devon, and the fact that they had lost the coherent use of their legs and arms. When they called for rescue they also discovered they’d lost the coherent use of their voices, and thus were unable to tell the rescuers where they were.

Only one of them had an epileptic seizure, and he was the only one together enough to be airlifted out. As for the rest of them, they were in worse shape and the rescue crew took one look, presumably took a second and third, and perhaps a whiff of the fumes arising from the festive gathering, and decided to leave the kids on the ledge to sober up overnight.

A decision was made that it was safer to leave them in the location they were in, until daylight, it added.

Zoe Boyne, the coastguard watch manager, said: “It was too dangerous to rescue the seven others because they were rather intoxicated and it would have been too hazardous to take them down to the lifeboat.

“This incident has tied up many resources throughout the night. It has also highlighted the dangers of young people putting themselves at risk in locations where they lose control of their actions due to the effects of intoxicating substances.”

She said coastguard teams, a lifeboat, the military helicopter and a police helicopter, police and ambulance personnel were all involved in the rescue operation which began at 12.45am.

When you are too drunk to be fireman-carried down to a lifeboat by trained professionals, you, my friend, are too drunk. The names of the youngsters involved has not been released by police, but presumably will be available freely on Facebook’s Most Wanted as soon as they get over the hangovers.

It’s not exactly Ladri di biciclette, if you know what I mean.

It seems Miguel Monroy here, colloquially known as Loserboy (or at least, among blog readers anyway, and a more discriminating bunch you won’t find anywhere, I tell ya) is a tough guy. A bully. A gangsta.

A tricycle thief.

Police say 21-year-old Miguel Monroy stole the tricycle Saturday evening when a mother and her daughter went into a store. Orem gang task force members then spotted him joyriding down Orem Boulevard on the trike.

He’s facing four charges: the theft, plus giving police three false IDs. If he hadn’t been so conspicuous, cruisin’ the hood on his girly new wheels, they never would have popped him in the first place.

Silly Miguel. Everybody knows what the big boys ride.

You will have heard (with shock/horror or delight, your choice) of the retirement of inimitable YouTuber Chris Crocker, otherwise known as Leave Britney Alooooooone Guy, as a result of becoming somewhat past his sell-by date in fameball terms. But grieve no more!

In Dannyhott, the Mimi-crazed, gender-bending adolescent legions of YouTube have once again found an icon and avatar, for right here, in his own bedroom, performing Mariah Carey’s Touch My Body, eleven-year-old Dannyhott bends gender, metre, space and time to become a genuine YouTube phenomenon.

via Dlisted

Um, he also has videos called Tattoo Practice and On the phone with a stranger. I hear Tipper Gore is having a stern word with his parents right this second.

Happy 39th anniversary to Sesame Street, but why did they decide to have an open bar? Everyone knows what happens at those kinds of office parties.

Handsy little devil, ain’t he?

My apologies for the late contest results today, plus the “air post” yesterday. It was something of a Lost Weekend at casa raincoaster, due to a Gawker Commenter Meetup/Bacchanal, but all is slowly, foggily returning to normal.

That said, there’s nothing as head-clearing as giving away imaginary prizes, so here we go.

gamma Says:
July 26th, 2008 at 2:46 pm

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I said I wanted to play with the Rams.”

Congratulations and itch-free swag to gamma, returning to the winner’s circle in fine form. What shall we hypothetically present as virtual swag to our eWinner? Nothing less than the softest cashmere from…wherever cash comes from. Mere is Scottish for lake, right? Cash Lake. I wouldn’t mind taking a dip in that myself. So what shall we present to our mutton-busting champ? Nothing less than the never-itchy, always stylish Autumn Cashmere linen cashmere v-neck flared sweater from Bluefly:

Captions in the comments, paramedics on the sidelines.

Passed along by Spirit Fingers

The other day a friend and I visited the local aquarium with our kids.  Sadly, the thing that held their interest the longest was the splash park located outside.

There was a cement shark with various buttons to press that caused water to shoot from different points on the shark’s body.  The prize spot was on top, where the largest jet of water was located.  This jet sprayed more vigorously than the others, and was easily diverted by placing your hand in front of it.  This was great fun because you could cause people standing on the sides of the shark to get wet, or really any direction you wanted the water to go.  Sort of like when you put your thumb in front of a hose.

A little boy got to the top of the shark, but decided he just wanted to sit there.  Wasn’t pressing any buttons, wasn’t directing the water anywhere.  Well, playground rules dictate that if you don’t use it, you lose it, and soon other boys were climbing on and while not pushing him off, utilizing the full features of the shark.

This upset the little boy, who was whining and hitting people’s hands away from the water and the buttons.  He was easily six, if not older, so should have known a bit better than to do that.

Lately I have tried to keep out of any of the Munchkin’s interactions with other kids.  Unless someone is about to get hurt, I have vowed to have a more hands-off approach.  This is very difficult for me, but I am trying.  So, I watched this little boy having a fit and trying to push the Munchkin away as he tried to play with the water.

After the third time, the Munchkin looked at him and said, “Well, you just aren’t very nice, are you?”

The boy had nothing to say to this.  He whined some more about people playing with the water.

In his most reasonable tone of voice, the Munchkin said, “But you don’t own this. This isn’t yours to tell people what to do.  The aquarium owns this.  It isn’t the only one here either, so if you don’t like other people playing with it, you should go to a different one.”

Not being able to refute this logic, the boy got off.  Although still whining, he went somewhere else.

Do I sense a possible Ambassadorship in the Munchkin’s future?

(Photo Credit: Jono Rotman)

There is a family next door to my parents whose son is a week older than the Munchkin.  Sometimes we get the boys together to play, and there is invariably a conversation that goes something like this:

Mom: Soooo, the Munchkin is very tall.  How tall is he?

Glinda: Uhhh, I want to say something like 45 inches, I’m not really sure.

Mom:Hmmm….  Is the Munchkin reading yet?

Glinda: Yes, yes, he’s reading.  He really likes reading.

Mom: I seeeee.  How about math?  Is he doing addition?  What about writing? Can he write his name?

Glinda: All of that, yes.

And on it goes, the sole purpose of which is to measure her son against mine.  Who’s taller?  Who can throw the ball better? Which one has the better social skills?  It’s sort of exhausting answering the seemingly endless battery of questions.

While I can understand the temptation to compare since they are so close in age, sometimes I just want to completely lie.  To say something totally outrageous and actually dare her to call me on it.

Mom: So, what kind of books is the Munchkin reading?

Glinda: Well, yesterday we finished War and Peace, which he just loved.  Now I’m thinking of starting on some Shakespeare, maybe Henry V, maybe Hamlet.  It’s so hard to tell which one he will like better.  But I think so far his favorite book has been The Republic by Plato.  He’s really into the whole just and unjust concept.  We debate it practically every night before bedtime.

That’ll teach her.

Maybe.