I Came For Toilet Paper

I really don’t think I am that hard to get along with. I smile at people. I hold doors open. I donate to causes I care about. I’ll even listen to a kid tell me all about a video game I don’t understand for twenty minutes straight. What I do not enjoy is running the gauntlet every time I go to Walmart.

I came for toilet paper and dog food. That’s it. I did not come to switch my internet provider, buy discount windows, donate to three different fundraisers, enter a raffle, sponsor a softball team, or discuss my cell phone plan with a complete stranger standing between me and a shopping cart.

The minute you get out of your car, they’re waiting. Sure, you can deploy the classic avoidance tactics. Believe me, I've tried them all—scrolling pointlessly through a blank phone screen, or frantically digging around in my purse like I've suddenly misplaced my life savings. You can even pull the ultimate maneuver: aggressively pointing at your earbuds with a painfully awkward shrug to signal that you are deaf to the world. But let's be honest, it never works. They completely ignore your desperate, universal signs of "please leave me alone" and just keep right on talking anyway.

One person wants a donation. Another wants a signature. A third wants to save you money on something you never planned to buy in the first place.

Cue the awkward shuffle.

"No, thank you."
"I'm good, thanks."
"Not today!"

You paste on a tight smile, pick up your pace, and avoid eye contact at all costs. It’s basically speed dating for things I don’t want. The worst part is, they hit you going in, and they hit you coming out.

Look, I get it. People are trying to raise money, but honestly? If I wanted what they were selling, I’d go looking for it.

I miss the days when the hardest part of shopping was figuring out which aisle they moved the dog food to. Now, I need the reflexes of a ninja and the emotional detachment of a hostage negotiator just to breach the front doors. Stop it!

If these stores really want to improve my shopping experience, they can start by letting me get from my car to the toilet paper isle without a work out!

What Actually Matters

I was thinking today about something people ask from time to time… what’s it like having a gay son?

My answer is always the same.

It’s like having a son.

Seriously, that’s it.

People act like it’s some completely different parenting experience, but it really isn’t. He’s funny, smart, brutally honest, and one of my favorite people to shop with because he actually has style. He’ll tell me if something looks terrible without sugarcoating it, and I appreciate that more than the sales clerk telling me everything looks “cute.”

I have four children. Three are married to the opposite sex, and one is gay. The truth is, I don’t think about their relationships differently. I don’t sit around defining them by who they love. I define them by who they are.

That’s what matters.

When I meet someone my children love, I don’t have a checklist that starts with sexual orientation. My checklist is much simpler.

Are they kind?

Do they make my child laugh?

Do they show up when life gets hard?

Do they work hard, love well, and treat people with respect?

Are they good to their family? Patient with children? Compassionate toward older people? The kind of person you’d be proud to have around your dinner table?

Those are the things I notice.

Character has always mattered more to me than labels.

Being the mom of a gay son hasn’t changed how I love, worry, celebrate, or cheer for my child. It hasn’t changed what I hope for him either. I want him to find someone who is loyal, kind, dependable, and who makes life better just by being in it.

Because that’s what I want for all four of my children.

At the end of the day, relationships aren’t built on labels. They’re built on character. And character will always matter more than anything else.

Hollywood, Get a Library Card

What Happened to Good Movies?

Maybe I got spoiled. Maybe I’m too picky. Or maybe movies just aren’t that good anymore.

Seriously, what happened?

Back in the 80s, 90s, and even the early 2000s, it felt like every weekend there was a movie you couldn’t wait to see. Comedies were funny. Action movies were exciting. Romantic comedies actually had romance and comedy. Even the dumb movies were somehow entertaining.

Now I spend more time scrolling than I do watching. Everything is a remake, reboot, sequel, prequel, spin-off, or based on a comic book character I’ve never heard of.

And here’s what confuses me. The actors didn’t all quit. The directors are still directing. So what happened?

The only conclusion I can come to is that the writers got tired. Did they run out of ideas? Did somebody lose the giant book of good movie plots? Did Hollywood just decide originality was too much work?

I can remember when a Friday night was an event. We’d grab Chinese food and then head to Family Video. The boys would disappear into the game section while the rest of us wandered the movie aisles. The hardest part wasn’t finding something to watch. It was deciding which movies to leave behind because there were too many good choices. You could spend an hour reading the backs of boxes and still not see everything.

Now I have access to thousands of movies without leaving my couch and somehow can’t find one worth watching. Technology advanced. TVs got bigger. Streaming got faster. Movies got worse. That seems backwards.

And here’s the thing I really don’t understand. There are thousands of amazing books sitting on library shelves that have never been made into movies. Go to the damn library. Walk through the fiction section. Pick a shelf. There are enough stories in there to keep Hollywood busy for the next hundred years.

It’s not like it can’t work. Look at Julia Quinn and the Bridgerton series. Somebody picked up those books and turned them into one of the biggest hits on television. The proof is right there.

I miss the days when a trip to Family Video felt like an adventure and movie night didn’t require forty-five minutes of scrolling followed by disappointment.

So if any movie writers are reading this, please stop remaking movies that were already good. Write something new. Or at least get a library card.

Because if I have to sit through one more reboot of a reboot based on a sequel nobody asked for, I’m going to start believing the most original thing Hollywood has produced lately is the loading screen.

Where Words Go To Die

The other day I realized there are words and phrases I haven’t heard in years. I have become convinced there is a place where words go when nobody uses them anymore. Not a dictionary. No, no… that’s too tidy. I think they go to a retirement community. A quiet little place where all the words that were once popular sit around wondering what happened.

When was the last time somebody told you to skedaddle? Or said something was far out? What happened to groovy? That was a perfectly good word. It had a job. It served a purpose. And let’s not forget radical. For a while, that word was carrying an entire generation on its back.

Then the 90s showed up with da bomb, talk to the hand, all that and a bag of chips, whatever, and as if. Somehow we all survived that phase and thought it sounded completely normal.

At what point did gee whiz, gadzooks, balderdash, kerfuffle, and cattywampus quietly pack their bags and leave? Those weren’t just words. They had personality. They made some one that said it seem cool… I think.

Nobody announces when they’re over. One day everybody is saying something and then, without warning, they stop. .

That’s neat.

That’s swell.

Far out.

Radical.

Da bomb.

Narly.

Epic.

Fire.

No cap.

Rizz.

Each generation gets its turn, and the older words simply fade into the background. I suppose that’s how language works, but I kind of miss the old ones. You could tell what decade someone grew up in just by listening to them talk.

Nowadays half the slang sounds like somebody spilled Scrabble tiles on the floor where the letters spell out “Skibidi” and said, ‘Yep, that’s a word now!
Maybe that’s why I like old sayings. They’re little time capsules. Tiny reminders of another era, and while I understand that language changes, I still think we should bring a few of these words back. The world could use a little more skedaddle, a little more balderdash, and maybe even the occasional gee whiz. And what’s this 6-7 bullshit?

So... now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go yell horsefeathers at something and try to bring it back.