My mom just sent me an email with the subject line, "Me, Being Mean." I think that is awesome. Wicked awesome, in fact, and I think we should all do it, today. Just take a moment to appreciate ourselves being mean.
Now, because I am not a genuinely mean person, just a kinda mean person, I would never broadcast what my mother included in her email. Likewise, I would never use this world wide platform to snark on people I know, people who know me, or people who don't have people to tell them that I'm just an idiot and to not take it seriously. But I love the snark.
So, the rules of Me, Being Mean:
1. You may only be mean to groups of people or really, really famous people who would never be caught dead reading the blog of a woman who doesn't even own Jimmy Choo's.
2. You may NOT be mean to people based on race, religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation or anything else that's going to piss me off. Example: It's fine to be mean to, say, people who think black and navy match. It's not fine to be mean to Catholics. Okay? Okay.
3. I will be wielding my lordship over this post with an iron hand. If you are too mean, mean to the wrong people or just look at me funny, I will delete your comment. I may or may not send you an email explaining why.
4. This really works best if you are mean about mean people. It assuages your guilt.
1. People who think that Shiloh Jolie Pitt is somehow abused by wearing boys clothes: Here's the deal, people. Trying to choose clothing for a three, four or five year old is like trying to dress a pig. If they don't want to wear it, they won't. Brynna went through a period where she refused to wear pants. It was horrific. I would trade it in a nanosecond for a period where she wanted to dress like a boy. You know why? Because boys can climb on crap without showing their panties. They can crawl around on the ground with fabric between the ground and them. They are warm in the winter. Their clothes wash better. I could do this all day. In short, if the kid is wearing nothing but jeans, smile and nod, smile and nod. If you think that girls should wear pink, ruffly things all the time, fine. Dress your girl that way, if you can. But let me assure you, that's why Brynna would only wear skirts, because it's a guaranteed fact that your kids will want to wear whatever you don't want them to wear.
2. People who think that Suri Cruise is somehow abused by wearing heels: See above.
3. People who look at you mean for singing in the car: Okay, dude. My window is up. I'm rockin' out. I know how I look. I look ridiculous. I am the queen of the weirdos here. But, you know what, it's cool, because as soon as my kid gets in the car, I won't even be allowed to WHISPER the lyrics, so I'm rockin' in the free world while it's free. You, you can't hear me. You have no control over me. Quit looking at me like that or I will roll down the widow and crank the Kid Rock and do my absolute worst white girl dance at you. Don't tempt me.
4. People who make fun of me for talking with my hands: Yes, yes, in fact, if you tied my hands down, I would be mute. Thanks for asking. If I took away your asshat card, would you be mute?
5. People who give me the stinkeye for bringing storebought cookies to the pot luck: Hey, yeah, I get it. I could have stayed up all night making homemade cookies. I could have. I would have, except that something in my life has to be simple, so had I done that, me and my entire family would have come to this thing in our PJ's. That's right, no one gets dressed without me. My husband will dress himself, but you better believe that he asked me eight times what to wear today, but not in time for me to get anything specific clean for him, so that mismatched outfit he's sportin'? Only partially my fault. And my oldest? She's capable of dressing herself and I did not pick out that ridiculous Madonna-esque ensemble, but she hasn't dressed herself since the baby came. I doubt seriously if she will dress herself until Maren learns to. Hey, you know, just three more years or so. No, I'm not crying? Why would that make me cry? I can't wait to dress an 8 year old.
Okay, so please, be mean in the comments. Just not too mean. Remember, I'm watching.