got it goin' on like donkey kong. (i wish...)
I like to think that I'm a pretty cool mom.
Note that I like to think that. I really have no clue what my sons think. As far as they're concerned, I might very well be the woman who buys them ice cream bars, yet lifts the box over my head and am all "Not until you do your math homework and complete 30 minutes of reading, bwahahahaha...."
(...and then maybe eats the contents of said ice cream bar box and pretends like I have no idea what they're talking about when they come crying to me for a fake frozen dairy treat coated in waxy chocolate goodness. Whatever, dude. Glass houses.)
Anyway, back to what a cool mom I think I am. I don't have to ask anymore about why Zack and Cody are living in a hotel (sidebar - that really would be a suite life!). I've figured out the difference when Miley is Hannah and vice versa. I say things like "Dat's jus' how we roll," and "It's all good in the 'hood!". I'll make time to play with action figures.
I'll also willingly listen to Crazy Frog butcher Queen's We Are The Champions. OK, maybe not willingly, but it's part of being a cool mom. You listen to the music that those around you find enjoyable. That's what I did when I was stuck in a car for seven hours with my own, cool in her own right Mom this week as we trekked back from the great state of Missouri (kisses, Missouri! do you miss me? No?? Huh. Well...fickle bastard...). My mom likes the country music. I've no beef with country music. I once owned a pair of cowboy boots (they were kick ass black leather with embroidered hearts and swirls on them and I would give a million dollars to have them TODAY! Because I'm cool!). I also dated a humble man with deep country roots, so yeah, you could say I got a little country western in me.
Here's what I forgot about my mom. She likes to sing along with her music. I'm not sure why I forgot this, since it's something I routinely do, too. When Paradise By The Dashboard Lights comes on my iPod, I'll bust out both Meat Loaf's and Ellen Foley's parts for the entire 8 minutes and 27 seconds (you better believe I'm doing it RIGHT NOW). Hell, when Paradise City, or (I've Been To Paradise But) I've Never Been To Me come on, I'm giving everything I have to the music, whether I'm scrubbing toilets or touring in the mini.
(But not Almost Paradise, because I just can't feel the love, Mike Love and Ann Wilson. Sorry.)
So back to the trip home. We're probably hour four into our seven hour tour when Honkeytonk Badonkadonk came on the radio. Mom heard this tribute to curvy posteriors, and she cranked that radio up and unleashed what I imagine rivals those American Idol audition episodes.
(I say I imagine because I may very well be one of the few people on Earth who has never watched a single episode of American Idol, and while that might mean I'm not actually cool, I beg to differ, because how cool am I for at least knowing of AI?!).
I shouldn't be hating on my Mom's vocal abilities, but the woman is bad! So, so, scary bad. She's making up words and she's all over the range. Hell, halfway through, she's singing an entirely differnt song. Most of the time, that is Bob Seger's Old Time Rock and Roll. It is ugly, people.
(and I'm sorry, too, Bob Seger, because dear Lord, I hate that song.)And then it hit me. If she's cool, yet bad, then I AM, too! Oh, it might be fun to pretend I'm preserving my virtue when Meat Loaf is getting all sweaty on me in the back of the car, but it's never as good to those who must listen to me as I think it sounds performed before a live studio audience. This point was really driven home for me when I looked back at my sons, trapped in the backseat while their grandma was questioning how the female protagonist of said Trace Adkins song was, and I quote, "gettin' them britches on." Their faces were frozen in fear and shock, and those faces spelled out "This is NOT cool!"
And one day, I am going to go from action figure playing, ghetto talkin', Disney Channel viewing Cool Mom to Lame Ass (nay - Badonkadonk!) Mom in one fell swoop, and I predict all it's going to take is one overzealous performance of another tribute to juicy bubbles.
(Which I'm singing along to RIGHT NOW, so let the transformation begin...).
P.S. While I'm shocked Blogger's spell check option doesn't recognize 'Google' as a word, the fact that "Badonkadonk" isn't in the internal dictionary doesn't surprise me in the least. Disappoints me, yes, but shocks me? No. And what the hell? It DOES recognize "Crazy Frog"! Lame.