...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Monday, May 18, 2009

i wish i was in tijuana

I was making dinner tonight when, over the crackling of the cellophane bag wherein were housed the delicious ciabatta bread rolls (oh, they SAID you was high class, but here we thought it was just a lie...) I planned to use to make my special recipe roast beef sandwiches (which are neither special nor exclusively mine), when my youngest son climbed aboard his bar stool at the counter and spied the plate from which I was pulling the beefy ingredients from.

"What's that?" the young man inquired, his voice tinged with the kind of cautious blend of fear and curiosity often found among those in the early frames of horror movies or who typically eat only peanut butter sandwiches on bread far less fancy and dense every day of their lives.

"This?" I responded, holding up a thin slice of perfect roast beef, allowing it to wave gently in the air. "This, my son, is roast beef."

"What part of the chicken does roast beef come from?" he asked.

"Really?" I said.

"What?" he responded.

"Roast beef does not come from a chicken, sweetheart," I replied.

Not willing to be defeated, the young man tried again. "OK, then, what part of the pig does it come from?"

"Oh, my," I sighed.

"You're what?" he replied.

"This roast beef is also not from a pig," I answered.

"I'm stumped, then," my son said, hanging his head just low enough for me to notice that OMG, someone had obviously been playing with the scissors because there's a giant chunk of hair missing from his frontal lobe, but that's apparently a story for a different day because I've yet to get a strait answer out of him. So far all possible (yet entirely illogical) scenarios come out as jagged as the current state of his bangs.

"The answers you seek are in the name, my son," I said. "Listen carefully - roast BEEF."

Silence ensued. Gears screeched to a halt thanks to the ragged follicular road blocks upon his forehead. "What animal is beef?" he finally asked.

Ah, life in the suburbs...


Because dinner was fancy pants roast beef sandwiches, I decided to bring out the assorted accoutrements. A little Grey Poupon, anyone? And when I say a little, I mean just a little, OK, because who do you think I am, anyway? Jenny from the block?

(do you smell that? that's the smell of a really dated pop culture reference! ripe!)

By now, my oldest son had joined us at the kitchen counter, his equally suspicious eyes darting around at these New York City (tired pop culture reference number two!) sandwiches I was preparing before landing upon the squeeze bottle of Gray Poupon.

"Mom, do you know your Gary Poops On has white wine in it?" he asked

"GARY POOPS ON!!!! GARY POOPS ON!!!! GARY POOPS ON!!!!" cried the younger accomplice. "GARY POOPS ON YOUR SANDWICH!!!!"

"I wish..." I sighed. "I really, really wish..."

(did I mention that there's this man who, from time to time, passes through my house, and for whatever reason I wash his socks and underwear, though for the life of me, I don't know why because this strange man, who, if he is who he says he is, pulled a gigantic FAIL on Mother's Day, which is shocking coming off the heels of an earlier birthday disaster the likes of which notations are made in history books that read "...and if we as a society fail to learn from events such as this, we are doomed to repeat them," needs to make it up in the husband department pronto, so yeah, I'm tired and this is rambly. What of it?)

(that sounded harsh, didn't it? sorry. it's not you, it's me. I see we meet again, PMS. word up, single parents! yada, yada, yada. insert all the usual cliches here)

(my wish was also regarding the wine part of that above conversation. I originally hoped I wouldn't have to clarify that, but after reading this again, I felt like perhaps I should)

Moral of the story, Gary Poops On will now be how I forever and always refer to Grey Poupon mustard. You probably will, too. Don't blame me. Blame the kid with the weird haircut over there who apparently doesn't know what a cow is.


The ingredients for my fancy pants dinner sandwiches came after a rousing run through the grocery store after work. All was good until I'd been home a couple hours and I felt my head growing increasingly fuzzy, and my lungs began spewing forth sneeze after sneeze after sneeze.

"Perfect," I sighed, then sneezed. And sneezed again. "This is JUST perfect."

"What's perfect?" my oldest son asked.

"I must have walked through a germ cloud while at the grocery store this afternoon," I said. "I think someone dripping with germs had the cart before me, and now I'm not feeling well. I hope I don't wake up with a cold tomorrow."

"Did you actually SEE the germ cloud?" he asked.

"Have you paid attention AT ALL in your science classes?" I countered.

Then I sneezed again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Then, when I was done, I lifted my right fist to the sky and shook it. With my voice tinged with drama and flair, I looked at my son, shook my fist at the sky again, and growled dramatically, "As God is my witness, THIS! THIS is why I do not like to go grocery shopping!"

Shaking his head slightly, my son sighed, and, before hopping down from his bar stool to dash outdoors to play again, said, "NOW you can understand how I feel about Mexico."

I know. I don't get it, either. But Australia? I feel I should warn you. I saw the kid eyeing a map recently and if I were you, Oz, I'd be a little worried.

Labels: ,


Blogger Sailor said...

Hope you feel better in the morning... but hon? How, please tell me, HOW can he not know that roast beef comes from a duck??? Huh? Just answer me that!
(Okay, so my kids now do know about cows and the relationship to beef, but there was a time, a few years back, when my middle boy had my daughter absolutely convinced that beef was from a duck.)

Although, I'm not sure why he felt compelled to have her believe this, I didn't even try to figure that one out.

Monday, May 18, 2009 11:17:00 PM  
Anonymous Kelley @ magnetoboldtoo said...

You have no idea how many adults think that because Boo can't have dairy it means he can't eat EGGS.

And we are ready for him, as long as you jump on that plane with him.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 3:20:00 AM  
Blogger Margarita said...

LOL what an exciting day. Having two is definitely more exciting than just one!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 5:16:00 AM  
Blogger Cocotte said...

Middle Child here will not eat pork chops or pork tenderloin since the biology class pig fetus dissection. Ham? She still eats that!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 5:42:00 AM  
Blogger Kat said...

I asked KiKi what she wanted for dinner the other night and she said 'poop" maybe I can just give her your mustard?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 6:18:00 AM  
Blogger scarletvirago said...

"Gary Poops On your sandwich" made me laugh so hard my face hurts.

That is all.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 6:30:00 AM  
Blogger Chasity said...

Gary poops on. You're so very right when you say I'll never think of it any other way. Last week while driving around with my 15 month old in tow, I heard him make a very poignant declaration of mostly nonsense, but looked back in time to see him make a fist and pump it to the sky. It made me think of you.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 7:11:00 AM  
Anonymous karen said...

Gary Poops On... bwahahahahahaha!

That is the BEST!

I love your kid. I don't even care that he can't tell a chicken from a cow.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 7:37:00 AM  
Blogger FTN said...

That was the longest post dedicated solely to the act of making roast beef sammiches that perhaps I have ever seen.

Were they au jus? I'm a big fan of au jus. Say it with me, it's fun. Au jus.

By the way, I was pretty confused at the "I really, really wish" part. Thanks for clarifying.

Last thing -- If you want help making one of the prom pictures your header for the whole blog, let me know. Then you can see the picture EVERY DAY!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 7:48:00 AM  
Anonymous Sammanthia said...

Your kids sound a lot like mine, and mine are going to be VERY jealous knowing they didn't come up with Gary Poops On. Of course I'm telling them... this is pure comedic gold.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 7:49:00 AM  
Blogger Wonderful World of Weiners said...

Doesnt his comment make perfect sense? You were blaming the grocery store for your illness. He was merely saying that he does not want to got Mexico for fear of contracting the Swine fly. Obviously, that kiddo of yours, pays attention to the world around him and knows what the heck is going on in other countries!! Rock on! And tell him congrats for being up on current events!!

Hallie :)

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 7:52:00 AM  
Blogger cIII said...

I dunno, FADKOG.....

You may have picked up the good 'ol H1N1 from that Roast Beef.

I mean, I don't want to raise an Alarm or anything.....but, I hear-tell the afore mentioned Roast Beef is made from P.I.G, Hog.

Also, from now on, Grey Poupon will forever be know as "Gary Poops On."

Thanks boys....from the bottom of my sophomoric heart....thank you.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:00:00 AM  
Blogger Carolyn...Online said...

I don't think I could eat roast beef knowing that A.) it was not in fact from a chicken and B.)Gary pooped on it.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:12:00 AM  
Blogger Michele said...

"Gray Poops On". HeeHee. I am laughing so hard right now. Yes, I some times let my inner 10 year old boy out once in awhile.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:25:00 AM  
Blogger bekah said...

haha my brother had a friend over for dinner when we were younger and that kid asked what was for dinner...pork.

Then he asked "whats a pork?"

he was like...14? 15? WAY too old to call a pig a pork?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:30:00 AM  
Blogger Divine Chaos said...

*giggles* Gary Poops On is great .. the fact that your son doesn't know what a cow is .. even better!

I didn't know what a cow was when we lived in the Chicago 'burbs either... We moved to a farm when I was 8 .. yeah, from the city to a farm. Why no, mother, it won't be too traumatic for an 8 year old that knows nothing but city life. Thanks for asking.

Anyway, we had cows. I made friends with them. I petted them and played with them. they weren't terribly good at fetch .. but whatever. I named them too. Bucky was my favorite.

He got sold one day and I cried. poor bucky.

Anyway, I told ya that to tell ya this. I found out about where beef comes in the most traumatic way ever. We were at the dinner table, eating great big juicy hamburgers when my stepfather said. Hey, Divine, how's Bucky taste?


i will say, he thought i already knew that we were raising BEEF cows and that Bucky had been sent to be butchered, not sold, and he wasn't trying to traumatize me with that question so badly that I wouldn't eat any beef products that I did not go to the store, buy and make myself for about 10 years after that, whether Gary Poops On them or not.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:35:00 AM  
Blogger Badass Geek said...

You should ask him if he knows where veal comes from.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:42:00 AM  
Anonymous Bee said...

I'm getting sick to but to add to my misery, I am now being interrogated as to where I've been (brothels) who I've touched (many people I would say) etc because, you guessed it! I am a Mexi-American. ::sigh::

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:53:00 AM  
Anonymous Maureen at IslandRoar said...

Just wait till they get older. My 15 year old daughter works on a farm, won't eat beef (altho she doesn't give us a hard time; circle of life and all that...). But she does ask me all the time if the beef I bought is "grain fed," or "grass fed," grass fed apparently the correct answer...
Thanks, very funny.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:54:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Well, when I ask my poor, deprived urban offspring where milk comes from, they'll say, "The store."

And, since I was in junior high, I've been watching those "excuse me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" commercials, and secretly imagining in my mind the guy looking down, scanning his clothes, saying, "Jeez, I sure hope not. . ."

But, I'll leave quietly now, since you're PMS-y and my WordVer is 'pesterst'. . .

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 9:04:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I find it really hard to eat any meat at all if I start to think about the animal it once was. I can't eat meat that still resembles the animal. It's all boneless for me. So, I appreciate your sons complete lack of a clue on where his meat comes from. Enjoy it while you can, kid. 'CAuse you dno't want to know what a rump roast is.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 9:19:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Also, my kids like to call ham 'pig butt'. So maybe there's hope for 'em, after all. . .

But, I've been to Tijuana, and I really don't think that you wish you were there. . .

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 10:05:00 AM  
Blogger calicobebop said...

"What animal is beef?" That is priceless. I'm sure my five-year-old would have been confused as well. Maybe I should take her to a farm...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 10:41:00 AM  
Blogger Christina Lee said...

I'll say it again- is this what I have to look forward to when my little bugger gets older??? it's enough that he is already rolling on the floor with his 4 year old butt laughing hysterically at the word "underwear". of course the other member of the male species in my house thinks its funny too!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 10:49:00 AM  
Blogger Bex said...

i so want to visit your house for a spaghetti dinner!

gary poops on many of my sandwiches, and also on my merguez.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 11:19:00 AM  
Blogger Just Jules said...

Oh my gosh, you girl are sooo funny! I just popped over from the Hot Dad's site to congratulate you but almost forgot because of your funniness- plus I swear you went to prom with the same guy all of us Midwestern girls went out with - that stuff is too funny.....

good to know my boys are doing what their gene pool obviously has led them to do and I am not the only mom wishing germs did not live on carts and wonder how they could effect my boys thinking so much?!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 11:21:00 AM  
Blogger lime said...

ok, so my kids help fill the freezer with deer they slaughter their very own selves. and then they get to help butcher it. and then i cook it so we can all eat it. and yet somehow, i could still imagine my son and i have the same conversation. although on occasion when they were small they'd be in the middle of dinner and ask, what animal am i eating?

oh and my son also told me swine flu can be cured with oinkment. so i just thought i'd pass that along, in case you needed to know.

word veri: taser....hhmm, for tool man?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 11:45:00 AM  
Blogger blissfully caffeinated said...

My kids get the stomach flu every time I take them in to Wal Mart. It can't possibly be a coincidence. I keep hand sanitizer in my car and liberally bathe my hands in it, up to the elbow, after I leave the grocery store.

You are awesome wrapped in bacon. or maybe roast beef.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 11:52:00 AM  
Blogger Mary Ellen said...

I hate walking through the germ cloud, but I've resisted the germ mask so as to keep people from mocking me...

Love the Gary Poops On. And so it shall be known from this day forward. That kid? Reminds me of you. In a good way.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 11:56:00 AM  
Blogger msprimadonna67 said...

It's all been said already, but I'm just going to let you know you made my day--love this post!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 12:29:00 PM  
Blogger Kathy B! said...

I'm pretty sure that the germ cloud has taken up residence right over our house... and refuses to move!

I love coming to your blog. I always get a big chuckle as my reward.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 12:31:00 PM  
Blogger Xavier said...

"Daddy, how do they make meat into chicken? 'Cause chicken tastes better."

Oh to have young-uns again.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 12:54:00 PM  
Blogger Whitemist said...

Priceless! Forget the Mastercard, absolutely priceless. I can see your frustration, but you will read this post some day and laugh!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 2:27:00 PM  
Blogger Zip n Tizzy said...

My mom loves to tell the story of when I told the babysitter that pork came from the porkingpine.

Watch out. Once he does understand where beef comes from, he might refuse to eat anything but peanut butter. Tis the start of many a vegetarian.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 2:47:00 PM  
Blogger PAPATV said...

Funny, just last night Ana asked me "What's pancetta?"...It was soooooooooo tempting to steer her way off course!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 2:59:00 PM  
Blogger Brian o vretanos said...

Helena wouldn't make that mistake. Cows have always been her favourite animal. Which leaves her with a moral dilemma about beef, but she likes the taste too much to stop eating it...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 3:22:00 PM  
Blogger MG @ MommyGeekology said...

Your child(ren) crack me up. I want to rent them.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 3:53:00 PM  
Blogger Dana's Brain said...

I'm kind of particular about my roast beef. You know sometimes, when it's not good roast beef, how it can just gross you out? I'm sure your roast beef was the good kind - even with Gary Poops On on it.

Hope the germ cloud didn't get you too badly!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 4:20:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt Becky said...

I am now going to change the name from Gary Poops On to Becky Poops On. Because I *so* do.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 4:35:00 PM  
Blogger The Stiletto Mom said...

Because Miss G is a picky eater and actually does like chicken, we have lead her to believe that pork chops also come from chickens. As does turkey, most fish varieties etc. I have a feeling that I will be having this same conversation in a year or so, but I have no one to blame but myself.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 4:50:00 PM  
Anonymous zelzee said...

Can't wait to hear about the haircut! I love that they think you won't notice if they don't mention it.

Will always have a smirk on my face during future encounters with Gray Poupon............

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 4:59:00 PM  
Blogger Tisha said...

Love your blog! I have an award waiting for you at my blog. Please stop by and get it.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 6:15:00 PM  
Blogger TwoBusy said...

It's called roast beast, and it's made of Whos. This one, in particular, came from little Cindy Lou Who, who was not quite two, before she became a part of this stew.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 8:34:00 PM  
Blogger Gwen said...

Gary Poops On is forever in my lexicon.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 9:28:00 PM  
Blogger creative-type dad said...

I'm totally using 'Gary Poops On' from now on just to say the name.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 1:52:00 AM  
Blogger Laggin said...

I'm pretty sure I have something clever to say but it's 4 in the morning and I forgot where I put clever.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 3:56:00 AM  
Blogger Biscuit said...

Well, you know, Father's Day is just around the corner...or not. ;)

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 8:47:00 AM  
Blogger Always Home and Uncool said...

We are not allowed to use the word "meat" in reference to dinner because it freaks out the kids. Therefore, everything is "chicken" regardless of its animal of origin.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 11:21:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

OMG! Too funny!

Roast beef...chicken? Roast beef...pig?

And Grey Poupon...Gary poops on..LOL..I know the next time I use the stuff..I'll remember!!

Sounds like you have quite the handful. I have 3 but 2 of them are adults and married. My youngest is just about to turn 15. I think I miss those younger days of the kids...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 1:09:00 PM  
Blogger CT Mom said...

Hahaha ... hilarious!

Whenever my girls ask me non-sensical things, I look at them and say, "I don't even want to THINK about what they're not teaching you in that school."*

My tax dollars at work. Sigh.

*Quote courtesy of my favorite actor and one of my favorite movies. Thank you, Tom Hanks. You just keep being Sleepless in Seattle.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 4:56:00 PM  
Blogger bernthis said...

the scary part of the whole story is there is a point in my past I would have made that same, 'what kind of animal is beef" remark and the gray poop on as well although I think the latter would have been said when I was well into my twenties.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 10:21:00 PM  
Blogger anymommy said...

Gary poops on - fantastic. I wish my kids would get that clever, they just put poop into every sentence and then give themselves fits laughing.

I hope you get that white wine and I hope you are not sick tomorrow.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 10:34:00 PM  
Blogger San Diego Momma said...

I think that you, you with your roast beef and Gary Poops On are way too high class for me, but I leave you with this comment anyway.

My five-year-old daughter, upon hearing that chicken wings were indeed CHICKEN'S WINGS told me after a long disturbing pause that it was OK to eat them because they didn't have "hair" (known in the adult world as "feathers") on them.

So I can't wait to tell her about lamb. Although I suspect she will be similarly as matter-of-fact and serial killer about it.

ALSO, this isn't the place or time for it: but HEY! PROM PICTURES! Oh sweet God those were awesome.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 11:24:00 PM  
Blogger The Dotterel said...

Still, nice sandwiches...

Thursday, May 21, 2009 2:16:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Gary Poops On"... lol. I really did.

In our house, everything is chicken! Our kids eat it and it's easier that way. I don't want my boys going the veggie route like their mom did many years ago (but has since been converted back).

Chicken it is...

... and Gary Poops On. LOL.

Thursday, May 21, 2009 7:19:00 AM  
Anonymous the weirdgirl said...

Wow! He's how old to have already formed an opinion about Mexico?! He should meet my husband, who also formed an opinion about Mexico at an early age, although his opinion is primarily about the prisons. He's convinced if we travel there we'll get thrown into jail, never to escape. Too bad he married into a hispanic family.

He should have never made that trip to Tijuana as a teen.

Thursday, May 21, 2009 9:30:00 AM  
Blogger Swirl Girl said...

Gary Poops On?? Sounds like an 80's glam rock group...LOL!

ps-word verification is 'waystif'
LOL some more!

Thursday, May 21, 2009 12:09:00 PM  
Blogger Tulipsanticipation said...

Don't feel so bad. When my husband and I first got married I was about to make a cake from scratch and he asked me in all seriousness, "you can make a cake without a box?"

Tuesday, June 02, 2009 8:24:00 PM  

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