The Ipod Family
Well, I'm coming back to the livejournal world. Hiatus, schmiatus - as Shakespeare always says. Following a period of creative lows, I emerge with new insights and stories. Befitting of a pretensious image, I am quite a fan of the comeback. The spotlight returns and all ill will is botoxed back to calm indifference. My comeback will hopefully revitalize my self-image and help the world's epidemic of awkwardness. Whenever someone utters that pandering-for-laughs phrase "awk-ward...," I merely look at them and ask them if they truly know awkward. Have they too been solicited for prostitution behind Jerry's Famous Deli? Were they too asked by a lusty manager to train the groom of a mail order bride on Microsoft Excel? Basically, my point is that nothing fights the awkward like a sophisticated put-down.
For President's Day Weekend, I felt enough guilt to visit my family back in Orange County. A good portion of the stay was spent with my family, but who wants to hear about that shit? Not me. On a solitary shopping excursion to the mall for some much needed jeans, I encountered the loveliest of families. A father and his three children were sitting at a table having a few laughs and devouring ice cream. The only thing wrong with this picture, however, was that the father was listening to an Ipod while his children just looked at him. I thought to myself that this Norman Rockwell-esque family sans mother (perhaps trying on a vest at JC Penney?) is such a sad sight. This father reminded me of a middle school bully who hoards all the best cupcakes for himself. The middle child, a rambunctious girl, asked her father if she could listen to THE Ipod. She was kindly rejected by the bullying father. My eyes widened at the fact that this man would not let one of his children hear a few tunes off of his precious piece of Apple technology. To my amazement once again, the man wearing a hunter green sweatshirt straight out of an LL Bean catalog, started spastically bobbing his head to the music. At this point, not only was the callous father ignoring his children, but was also finding satisfaction while doing it. The kids straight out of "Children of the Corn" just blankly stared at his incorrigible bobbing.
This display of bad parenting in the mall food court was only intensified by the youngest child, a boy, kindly asking to listen to the coveted Ipod. This time, the father did not respond so tactfully. He seemed to have to control his aggravation through deep breaths. He told his son that it was not yet his hour for listening. I was quite dumbfounded by this father's allocation of Ipod listening time to his children and even more dumbfounded by the fact that he alloted time for himself. I couldn't take anymore of this nonsense, so I left my table and stormed out of the food court to the solace of Banana Republic. For once, the snobs of Banana Republic, who debate cashmere against polyester blends, seemed comforting in a world of abusive, Ipod-loving fathers. I hate to say it, but the what the world needs now is more Ipods. There just aren't enough to go around. No longer does Oliver Twist need more porridge. He needs to be on the go and know that his milkshake just might bring all the boys to the yard.
For President's Day Weekend, I felt enough guilt to visit my family back in Orange County. A good portion of the stay was spent with my family, but who wants to hear about that shit? Not me. On a solitary shopping excursion to the mall for some much needed jeans, I encountered the loveliest of families. A father and his three children were sitting at a table having a few laughs and devouring ice cream. The only thing wrong with this picture, however, was that the father was listening to an Ipod while his children just looked at him. I thought to myself that this Norman Rockwell-esque family sans mother (perhaps trying on a vest at JC Penney?) is such a sad sight. This father reminded me of a middle school bully who hoards all the best cupcakes for himself. The middle child, a rambunctious girl, asked her father if she could listen to THE Ipod. She was kindly rejected by the bullying father. My eyes widened at the fact that this man would not let one of his children hear a few tunes off of his precious piece of Apple technology. To my amazement once again, the man wearing a hunter green sweatshirt straight out of an LL Bean catalog, started spastically bobbing his head to the music. At this point, not only was the callous father ignoring his children, but was also finding satisfaction while doing it. The kids straight out of "Children of the Corn" just blankly stared at his incorrigible bobbing.
This display of bad parenting in the mall food court was only intensified by the youngest child, a boy, kindly asking to listen to the coveted Ipod. This time, the father did not respond so tactfully. He seemed to have to control his aggravation through deep breaths. He told his son that it was not yet his hour for listening. I was quite dumbfounded by this father's allocation of Ipod listening time to his children and even more dumbfounded by the fact that he alloted time for himself. I couldn't take anymore of this nonsense, so I left my table and stormed out of the food court to the solace of Banana Republic. For once, the snobs of Banana Republic, who debate cashmere against polyester blends, seemed comforting in a world of abusive, Ipod-loving fathers. I hate to say it, but the what the world needs now is more Ipods. There just aren't enough to go around. No longer does Oliver Twist need more porridge. He needs to be on the go and know that his milkshake just might bring all the boys to the yard.