I remember when the term "frenemy" first hit popular vernacular. I thought it was such a clever word, "Ha ha, friend and enemy, how funny!". It seemed to be a word reserved solely for the high schoolers and the young twenty somethings working in fashion, marketing or PR. Environments where women (and it always seemed to be only women) were predominantly involved and competition for Queen Bee status seemed to be at stake. In finance there was no such thing as frenemy because we all knew if you liked someone or not. That's how we knew whether to look for another job or stay and collect that big ass bonus. Trust me, if you didn't know where you stood at a firm, your bonus would give you a good idea and usually it was a hint to leave if it sucked compared to everyone else. If you didn't leave, you just got shafted again and again. Eventually they'll demote you and push you out. So you learned pretty quick how to read your managers and decide who to align yourself with.
Anyway, frenemy to me was a funny term that didn't really factor into my life. Until I came to Satellite Village. Seriously, why is it that as soon as I move into this place all these weird things happen? All these stereotypes you read about suddenly materialize? The crazies you see on television sitcoms actually exist? The freakin stupid trends you never saw anyone wear are suddenly all around you? It's like some Bermuda Triangle of the Bizarre, the Black Hole of Misfits, the Wasteland for Humanity. Where do these people come from and why are they all represented here in Satellite Village?
When Little Man first started preschool there was one boy he was friendly with from the start, let's call him Eugene. So I made an effort to be friendly with Eugene's parents, who both work from home, and tried to set up play dates with Eugene at the park so Little Man could start to build some friendships. Trust me, it's hard making friends when you're middle aged and set in your way. Having to make small talk, feigning interest in their lives and jobs, asking about their other kid and trying to keep all the blah blah information straight. Unless I really like you, I have selective Alzheimer's when it comes to personal information. It's tough trying to build a friendship with the parents of your child's new friend. Eugene's parents happened to be looking for a house just like us, so I thought we had some connection. We ended up finding homes around the same time and as soon as we had the space I invited Eugene over. Soon I realized I was the only one inviting anyone over for a play date. Eugene's parents never invited Little Man over, and they would even ask me why I didn't take Eugene from school so it would save them a trip to our house to drop him off. Um, how lazy are you? We're literally three minutes from the school. Soon they would just leave Eugene and come back in three hours. I was a little uncomfortable since I thought 4 year olds needed parents around, and I didn't really feel comfortable or capable of controlling/disciplining their unruly 4 year old. But I bit my tongue and sucked it up since it made Little Man so happy to have this kid over.
Soon my overtures for play dates were met with responses of "I'm really busy this week, let's talk next week" with no follow ups. Than I started finding out that mutual friends were having Eugene over for play dates, and somehow the Frenemy Parents weren't too busy for those days. So I got the unspoken message that this Frenemy Mom was just using me as day care when she needed to unpack her boxes or drive 2 hours away to unload a storage unit. I was being used, and I don't appreciate being used. Don't get me wrong, if I LIKE you, and that's the big important word here - LIKE. If I like you I will do what I can to help you out. If I feel some kind of reciprocal action, a real concern or affection for my child, I will LOVE you and you will have my undying fealty. But I never got that from the Frenemy Parents. In fact, I never got anything from them at all. It was a kind of blah relationship for me.
Fast forward about 6 months and Little Man is on the same soccer team as Eugene. Big Man would go and the Frenemy Parents were there and always chatted Big Man up. "Oh, we should get together and blah blah blah some time". Whatever, if you're looking for day care again go pay someone to watch your kid. You're not getting anymore free day care from me. "Oh, we just started taking Eugene to the driving range to play golf and since you play so frequently, you should join us at the driving range". Duh, like I'm a rube that just fell off the turnip truck? You told me in the past that you guys don't play golf and have no interest. And I know you're both freakin cheap, hence trying to pass off play dates as free day care with me. Do you really think I'm going to let Big Man teach your kid how to swing a golf club because you're inept and too cheap to hire someone? At least buy Ben Hogan's book on the fundamentals - there's a lot of illustrations in it. I'm sure you can follow pictures. I actually ran into Frenemy Mom at a birthday party and I'm so disgusted by her that I can't even look at her or feign civility. That's another thing with me, if I don't like you I don't care if you know or not. I'm not going to waste my time trying to pretend we're friends and asking about your life. I could really care less, and would appreciate it if you would just keep you're fake "Hey, how's it going?" quip to yourself. Needless to say, I haven't seen these people since that party, and I hope I don't ever see them again. I know Little Man won't be in any of the same classes since Eugene went to remedial kindergarten last year, so next year he should be in first grade. Seriously, remedial kindergarten. I've spent the past 3 years teaching Little Man to read and add and subtract and spell and he'll be starting multiplication in a few months. And this kid went to remedial kindergarten. I'm glad they won't be in the same class. I don't need Little Man getting afflicted with Dumb by Osmosis.
I remember Frenemy Mom telling me that they didn't want to pay for another year of preschool and since remedial kindergarten was free, they would send Eugene there instead. And save the money from preschool for a new car. Come on, do you seriously think we can be friends after that remark? I'm all about putting time and effort and money into my child's education and development. And you want a new car instead of paying for another year of preschool? Where do these people come from? What rock are they crawling out from under? And why are they all here? The only upside is it makes for an amusing tale to tell. Though I get all worked up when I think about their deceit. But I'm patient...I'll get my chance for something. And if you know me well enough, you know what that something is.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Rainbow (Metaphorically Speaking) Coalition of Moms
In NY my friends were basically all in finance. Maybe I had a couple in marketing or law, but the bulk were financial analysts. Granted they ranged from mutual funds to investment banking to stocks to more esoteric products. I think it was a product of the financial market being the main driving force behind the economy of Manhattan, but I think it's also a result of the particular industry I was in and the type of personalities we all had. To some degree we were all somewhat OCD, very rigid in how we did things to how we dressed and socialized. It was comforting knowing that a lot of your peers were in the same socio-economic niche. We would tell defeasance jokes and all laugh, which I'm sure the people at the next table thought was total nonsense. But it was a very comfortable yet intellectually stimulating niche. We would discuss the markets and the products being securitized and how things were changing with new regulations and leadership. I actually miss my little group of finance friends on many different levels.
Coming out to the Satellite Village I've tried to make friends. It's hard starting from scratch making new friends without any real reason. Especially coming out here where there are a lot of locals who grew up here and never left. It's an insular and incestuous environment. There are a couple of women I've met who are nice and receptive. But I've discovered that the few I really click with are all from the NY area, which is not really surprising since we are all snarky and honest in our feelings. There's a lot of sugar coating going on here, and not in a very good way.
But in our little bit of middle class America there is definitely a range of women/moms I've come across. There are the Trophy Moms (who really don't look like your NY Trophy Wife - and I mean it's a real stretch comparing the two) who are all injected and lipo'ed and blonde. Seriously, natural blondes supposedly make up less than 5% of the population, yet here they are about 50%. And some are way too brassy and yellow to be termed blonde, it's obviously a very loose term out here. They like to flash their Coach bags and (OMG!) Louis bags, wear Lululemon head to toe, or toss a scarf around their neck in 90 degree weather. Daisy Dukes are worn with pride, along with spider veins and cowboy boots. Oh, did I mention we aren't on a cattle ranch and all our roads are paved??
Than there are the Average Moms (who could be from any town in the US, she's nothing really special). She's seems normal, nothing really crazy about her. No plastic body parts, no aspirations to be the reincarnation of Barbie, no crazy wardrobe getups. There are, of course, the ones that are bizarre in their own special ways, like the affinity for wearing Ugg slippers as regular shoes. One walks like a duck, one likes to wear matching shoes and bags (not color, but print which is just oh so unforgivable). I'm not saying there aren't weirdos in this group, but they seem "normal" enough on the surface that you tend to focus more on the former group as well as the latter.
Finally there's the WTF Moms. They are the ones who like to drive pick up trucks with personalized plates like "SASSY" or "PERKY". Ummm, you're not sassy/perky with that fat ass and the too tight Juicy velour pants. They like to sluttify adult Disney Princess Halloween costumes and wear them to the preschool Halloween parade. Obviously she's so insecure she feels the need to upstage her own child at his school's parade. On a side note, her child was dressed as a robot and was completely covered in cardboard. It was a very interesting contrast to his Mom's choice of attire. Anyway, these moms like to wear tight workout clothes, and that tight racerback athletic top needs to be hiked up and a knot tied to show even more flabby wrinkly belly skin. I don't need to know that you have freckles/age spots all over your body. That's just too much information/visual for me, and I'm sure everyone else around me. But they all congregate together and talk about the other moms at the school. I've heard them during pickup at the school, and honestly, women like that really shouldn't throw stones at the others. It's kind of insulting and really hypocritical.
The real kicker here is that after coming from NY where my circle of friends was like the famed Rainbow Coalition, everyone here is white. Sure there are a couple of Asians, but no other minorities. Everyone is white. When we first moved out here and we went to the local mall, I felt perturbed and couldn't quite put my finger on what was bothering me. Until I saw a black man walk by, than it hit me. Everyone in the mall was white, there aren't any minorities here at all. I miss having diversity in all aspects of my life. Though my friends were all in finance, we were all different races and ethnicities. But everyone is white out here, and it seems most of them are small town white. When Chinese New Year rolled around the class moms decided to give each child a fortune cookie and a coupon for a free meal at Panda Express. Umm, they has nothing to do with Chinese New Year. A quick Google search brings up 15 days of festivities and all sorts of different foods for each day of celebration. And I'm pretty sure fortune cookies are not a Chinese import.
I guess the whole point of this is that my new version of the famed Rainbow Coalition is not on true diversity, but more on the degrees of class now. Since everyone is white, the differences I see in my little slice of Satellite Village is the way these moms carry and conduct themselves. How they dress/bare themselves on a daily basis, what they drive, how they talk, what they talk about, how they treat others and how they treat themselves. Some of these woman have no qualms about interrupting someone else's conversation. It's a very selfish personality to think that their lives are more important than anyone else's, and if they have a question they should just blurt it out instead of waiting for a break in the conversation or apologizing for the intrusion. Some of them don't even have the courtesy to thank a 5 year old child for holding the door open for them. Seriously woman, you can't thank a child for doing something nice for you? What kind of bitchy witch are you? Obviously your children must be learning some great manners from you, and you're showing them how to be a conscientious and well mannered person but sashaying your fat ass right by a 5 year old and not even acknowledging their unselfish behavior toward you. I know even though you upset my child by not thanking him, I'm still going to raise him (and his sister) to be well mannered and courteous to all lowlifes out there whom they'll come across. Because it will only make them a better person and a more successful person. Because we all know, at least those of us who have held real jobs in the real world, that how you conduct yourself in a business environment makes an impression on your manager and your clients. And I am going to make sure my kids will be successful and experience a true Rainbow Coalition of life, instead of this pseudo diversity we have in Satellite Village.
It seems like I bitch and moan all the time. But next time I want to talk about the real and honest women I've met out here. The few who have made my transition to Satellite Village more palatable. I think there are two women (sad commentary on the cross section of women out here) who are truly normal, in my opinion. Gee, that's really depressing.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
My Ass is Pink and Juicy
In the 1990s Juicy Couture was a big fad. I'm remembering it as the 90s, but I could be wrong. But since this is my recollection I'm going to leave it as the 90s. Anyway, Juicy was huge in NY. Women bought it up like crazy and wore it mainly to the gym or at home. I know it was huge because some SAs would tell me how they couldn't keep it in stock. Yet you never really saw anyone on the streets of NY wearing Juicy, unless she was under the age of 15 and was a total Bridge and Tunnel (B&T) girl. I personally never bought into the whole Juicy craze. Sure there were moments I was tempted to get a suit and luxuriate in it's velour splendor. But I was too busy indulging in my shoe and handbag fetish. I was like a 60 year old woman trapped in the body of a 20 year old. I had so many bags and shoes, matching in colors and style to my work clothes, that at one point I think I had around 200 pairs of shoes. The OCD in me made sure that all my shoes were in their original boxes with photos on each pair taped to the outside so I could easily identify which shoe was in which box. Living in a 300 square foot studio was ridiculous when my entire little closet was packed with shoe boxes. Sometimes I think I moved simply because the closets kept getting better and better. Than I had kids and it all fell apart. But I digress.
Juicy was huge and than it became a joke. No one was buying it, at least no one I know. Yet the Juicy Couture store on Fifth Avenue was doing stellar business with the tourists and the B&T crowd. Meanwhile, Victoria's Secret had decided to jump on this bandwagon and started pumping out their own version under their Pink brand. Soon there was a plethora teeny boppers wearing "Juicy" and "Pink" branded velour pants across Fifth Avenue and inside all the popular tourist areas. Every once in a while you'd see some older woman, looking past her prime yet valiantly trying to hold on to her own relevance by dressing as a 15 year old, wearing some Juicy or Pink. Usually she had makeup speckled to her face and lots of bling on. It was a sad testament to growing old.
Anyway, when I left NY only the tourists were wearing these things. I believe Bergdorf had stopped carrying Juicy (did they ever carry it?) and thankfully my friends and I were in an older demographic where our paths would never cross with Juicy or Pink again. Than I moved to Satellite Village.
Old wrinkled weather beaten women had Juicy on their butt. Trust me, that ass ain't "Juicy" anymore, it's flat and wide and really sad looking. Drawing attention to it by slapping "Juicy" on it just makes it look ever so depressing. Middle aged women had "Juicy" on their asses. Half of them fell into the flat as a pancake crowd, while the other half definitely fell into the Brazilian silicone butt insert group. Your butt isn't "Juicy" in as much as "bubble butt". Lots of surgical enhancements here, I have seen enough breasts defying gravity that they could give Wicked's Elphaba pause. Grandmas with tighter flatter stomachs than their daughters, and faces that can't move above the upper lip. I know plenty of women were getting plastic surgery in NY, but it was more subtle. Not trying to reverse 30 years of aging in one 3 hour procedure. But that's another rant.
Moms at the preschool had "Juicy" and "Pink" on their asses. In my opinion that's just inappropriate. You're trying to raise your child to be respectful, cognizant and appreciative of all the different peoples and cultures in the world. You want them to find beauty in all races, to refer natural beauty and the character in faces lined with years. Sure, maybe a little tweak is fine to delay the aging process, but not a full on death grasp for the 1980s. I think there's too much of an emphasis on youth and trying to look hip and cool here. You're a middle aged mom dropping your child off at preschool. This isn't Spring Break circa 1990, you shouldn't be trying so hard to compete with your 15 year old daughter in dress and attitude. At least try to act mature enough that other adults will respect you, as opposed to looking at you cock eyed and mocking you in a blog. Oh, and if you persist in wearing pants that call attention to your butt, try to make sure your muffin top is hidden to some degree. I don't know how many times I've seen multiple muffins peeking out from your velour waist band.
Juicy was huge and than it became a joke. No one was buying it, at least no one I know. Yet the Juicy Couture store on Fifth Avenue was doing stellar business with the tourists and the B&T crowd. Meanwhile, Victoria's Secret had decided to jump on this bandwagon and started pumping out their own version under their Pink brand. Soon there was a plethora teeny boppers wearing "Juicy" and "Pink" branded velour pants across Fifth Avenue and inside all the popular tourist areas. Every once in a while you'd see some older woman, looking past her prime yet valiantly trying to hold on to her own relevance by dressing as a 15 year old, wearing some Juicy or Pink. Usually she had makeup speckled to her face and lots of bling on. It was a sad testament to growing old.
Anyway, when I left NY only the tourists were wearing these things. I believe Bergdorf had stopped carrying Juicy (did they ever carry it?) and thankfully my friends and I were in an older demographic where our paths would never cross with Juicy or Pink again. Than I moved to Satellite Village.
Old wrinkled weather beaten women had Juicy on their butt. Trust me, that ass ain't "Juicy" anymore, it's flat and wide and really sad looking. Drawing attention to it by slapping "Juicy" on it just makes it look ever so depressing. Middle aged women had "Juicy" on their asses. Half of them fell into the flat as a pancake crowd, while the other half definitely fell into the Brazilian silicone butt insert group. Your butt isn't "Juicy" in as much as "bubble butt". Lots of surgical enhancements here, I have seen enough breasts defying gravity that they could give Wicked's Elphaba pause. Grandmas with tighter flatter stomachs than their daughters, and faces that can't move above the upper lip. I know plenty of women were getting plastic surgery in NY, but it was more subtle. Not trying to reverse 30 years of aging in one 3 hour procedure. But that's another rant.
Moms at the preschool had "Juicy" and "Pink" on their asses. In my opinion that's just inappropriate. You're trying to raise your child to be respectful, cognizant and appreciative of all the different peoples and cultures in the world. You want them to find beauty in all races, to refer natural beauty and the character in faces lined with years. Sure, maybe a little tweak is fine to delay the aging process, but not a full on death grasp for the 1980s. I think there's too much of an emphasis on youth and trying to look hip and cool here. You're a middle aged mom dropping your child off at preschool. This isn't Spring Break circa 1990, you shouldn't be trying so hard to compete with your 15 year old daughter in dress and attitude. At least try to act mature enough that other adults will respect you, as opposed to looking at you cock eyed and mocking you in a blog. Oh, and if you persist in wearing pants that call attention to your butt, try to make sure your muffin top is hidden to some degree. I don't know how many times I've seen multiple muffins peeking out from your velour waist band.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Appropriate Footwear
When I first moved out to this Satellite Village, I had to discover what awaited me at each strip mall with two small kids in tow. We lived in a "condo" as the locals like to call it. In reality its an attached town home in a PUD. There are no organic neighborhoods here, everything is a PUD. I remember when I was first working and I learned what a PUD was. I snorted and discussed with my co-workers how sad it was to live in a PUD. Lo and behold, look where I have fallen. But that's not the point of this story.
Anyway, I had to drive around and discover where to buy groceries, where the book store was, what the hell I was going to do to entertain kids in this bizarro world. The Little Ones and I would go "exploring" and just drive around, usually I would get lost since everything looked the same to me. Strip malls and parched hillsides were everywhere. But one thing was constant, Chili's. Yes, we went to Chili's for lunch about twice a week for the first month we were here. I'm slightly ashamed that I let my kids eat there so frequently, but at least they were entertained and they liked the crayons and the brownie sundae. Plus, I didn't like cooking in my nasty rental kitchen with the strange tile counters and the forever dirty looking grout. So I opted to take the Little Ones out for lunch and gorge on french fries and various deep fried foods.
So one day I was enjoying my fried food du jour, and happened to glance at a table across the aisle from me. The woman sitting there during the lunch rush was wearing some Uggs. Granted, they are comfortable and will keep your feet warm. But what I didn't understand was the women and girls wearing Uggs (the boots!) with shorts and tee shirts. Too much of a fashion victim from ten years ago. Seriously, if your feet are so cold than wear some long pants. Why is your entire body exposed yet your feet are ensconced in heavy sheep fleece? Anyway, back to my Chili's Uggs Lady. Sure she was wearing Uggs but not boots, she was wearing SLIPPERS! Who the hell wears slippers out as outdoor footwear? Slippers are made to be worn in the house, as you shuffle along from your bedroom to the kitchen to get a midnight snack. Not for traipsing around to your local fast food restaurant. And she was wearing the scuffs with the open back. Those slippers aren't protecting your feet at all, they are just getting dirty and germy in the back as your shuffle through all the filth on the public street.
First I thought that maybe she was an anomaly and just weird. But noooooooooo, at Little Man's preschool there is a mom who has also taken to this new fangled fad of wearing slippers as shoes. I see her shuffle along (seriously, how can you walk in scuffs slippers?) as she crosses the street with her daughter. And what makes it just so hideous is this woman walks like a duck, her feet are splayed outwards and she shuffles even in normal shoes. So when you throw in the slippers its a total visual affront to my eyes. Than a few weeks ago ANOTHER mom was wearing slippers to drop off her son at school. Seriously ladies, you can put on some real shoes to drop your kids off at school? You are obviously dressed (but that's a whole other story about what constitutes getting dressed out here) and you drove to the school with your child and his/her lunch bag in tow. Yet you couldn't spend the extra 30 seconds to slip on some sneakers, or maybe even some flip flops if you're really lazy and pressed for time. Plus, this is preschool - you're already coming to school 20 minutes late. What's another 30 seconds? Are you so lazy you can't put proper shoes on? And you want to track in filth and germs into your home by wearing slippers all over the place? Why don't you just let your dog poop in your house, because essentially you're sloughing in feces and who knows what else into your home.
The sad thing is these women obviously think they look good if they are dressed in non-sleepwear with slippers. If you're going to give the impression that you woke up late and didn't have time to wear real shoes, than keep your pajamas on so I can have the whole package. Pretend you're late, and not lazy or totally fashion impaired. But this isn't even haute couture I'm talking about, but the basic tenets of fashion. Street clothes go with street shoes, pajamas go with slippers. Didn't your mother teach you how to get dressed when you were little? Don't you also make your child wear shoes with their school clothes? Why even give them the idea that slippers are an acceptable shoe to wear outside? Bad role model and bad example. But what's even sadder is what's deemed appropriate apparel by some of the women out here. That's a whole other story. Geesh, it's never ending out here.
Anyway, I had to drive around and discover where to buy groceries, where the book store was, what the hell I was going to do to entertain kids in this bizarro world. The Little Ones and I would go "exploring" and just drive around, usually I would get lost since everything looked the same to me. Strip malls and parched hillsides were everywhere. But one thing was constant, Chili's. Yes, we went to Chili's for lunch about twice a week for the first month we were here. I'm slightly ashamed that I let my kids eat there so frequently, but at least they were entertained and they liked the crayons and the brownie sundae. Plus, I didn't like cooking in my nasty rental kitchen with the strange tile counters and the forever dirty looking grout. So I opted to take the Little Ones out for lunch and gorge on french fries and various deep fried foods.
So one day I was enjoying my fried food du jour, and happened to glance at a table across the aisle from me. The woman sitting there during the lunch rush was wearing some Uggs. Granted, they are comfortable and will keep your feet warm. But what I didn't understand was the women and girls wearing Uggs (the boots!) with shorts and tee shirts. Too much of a fashion victim from ten years ago. Seriously, if your feet are so cold than wear some long pants. Why is your entire body exposed yet your feet are ensconced in heavy sheep fleece? Anyway, back to my Chili's Uggs Lady. Sure she was wearing Uggs but not boots, she was wearing SLIPPERS! Who the hell wears slippers out as outdoor footwear? Slippers are made to be worn in the house, as you shuffle along from your bedroom to the kitchen to get a midnight snack. Not for traipsing around to your local fast food restaurant. And she was wearing the scuffs with the open back. Those slippers aren't protecting your feet at all, they are just getting dirty and germy in the back as your shuffle through all the filth on the public street.
First I thought that maybe she was an anomaly and just weird. But noooooooooo, at Little Man's preschool there is a mom who has also taken to this new fangled fad of wearing slippers as shoes. I see her shuffle along (seriously, how can you walk in scuffs slippers?) as she crosses the street with her daughter. And what makes it just so hideous is this woman walks like a duck, her feet are splayed outwards and she shuffles even in normal shoes. So when you throw in the slippers its a total visual affront to my eyes. Than a few weeks ago ANOTHER mom was wearing slippers to drop off her son at school. Seriously ladies, you can put on some real shoes to drop your kids off at school? You are obviously dressed (but that's a whole other story about what constitutes getting dressed out here) and you drove to the school with your child and his/her lunch bag in tow. Yet you couldn't spend the extra 30 seconds to slip on some sneakers, or maybe even some flip flops if you're really lazy and pressed for time. Plus, this is preschool - you're already coming to school 20 minutes late. What's another 30 seconds? Are you so lazy you can't put proper shoes on? And you want to track in filth and germs into your home by wearing slippers all over the place? Why don't you just let your dog poop in your house, because essentially you're sloughing in feces and who knows what else into your home.
The sad thing is these women obviously think they look good if they are dressed in non-sleepwear with slippers. If you're going to give the impression that you woke up late and didn't have time to wear real shoes, than keep your pajamas on so I can have the whole package. Pretend you're late, and not lazy or totally fashion impaired. But this isn't even haute couture I'm talking about, but the basic tenets of fashion. Street clothes go with street shoes, pajamas go with slippers. Didn't your mother teach you how to get dressed when you were little? Don't you also make your child wear shoes with their school clothes? Why even give them the idea that slippers are an acceptable shoe to wear outside? Bad role model and bad example. But what's even sadder is what's deemed appropriate apparel by some of the women out here. That's a whole other story. Geesh, it's never ending out here.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Dubai
Ahhhh, Dubai....the name conjures up images of incredibly sleek modern skyscrapers reaching up into blue skies. Palm tree created islands dotting turquoise waters and an increasingly developed country built on oil and tourism. Yet supported by the backbreaking labor of Indians brought in to provide most of the manual labor needed for the tremendous growth in infrastructure. It also painfully, yet hilariously, reminds me of how remote and insular the natives (as I like to call them) are in my new hood.
You have to understand, I was born and raised in New York. Except for a couple of years in my early childhood when we lived abroad for my father's work, I've spent all my time in New York. Sure I went away to college, Massachusetts to be exact. For my high school graduating class, you went to the best college you got into, regardless of where it was located. I just happened to be going to Massachusetts and I was very happy with my choice. I spent my four years there and returned right after graduation to New York and my job search. I than spent my graduation school days in New York, met my husband there, had a couple of kids, and shopped to my heart's content all within the 300 or so square miles encompassing Manhattan. I was very happy. Every year I made a trip abroad to visit friends from college, traveled with my family and friends, and tried to experience as much of the outside world as possible. I loved reading the Times, and the FT when I was working. But that all changed when I moved out West.
My current domicile is a small upper/middle class neighborhood about an hour away from LA. We're not technically a suburb (in my opinion) but more like a satellite village. A lot of the people who live here either grew up in the area and never left, or grew up in the area, left and came back. So it's a somewhat incestuous village. I'm not talking about six degrees of separation, more like two. So with my innate bitchiness I've got to be careful with my snark. People here don't understand it and seem to be a little too "nice" in my opinion. So I tend to keep these things to myself.
Anyway, back to Dubai. Now why would Dubai come up in this little hick town? Well, I was walking to school with Little Man one day when I happened to hear two dads in front of me talking. One, who was dressed in a dress shirt and slacks (I like to call him Professional Dad) was talking to another one who was dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants (I like to call him Stay at Home Dad). Professional Dad was talking about how he would be traveling soon, and so Stay at Home Dad asks him where he's going. Dubai was the answer. I'm thinking, "Gee, that sounds like fun. I'd like to visit Dubai one day and see that hotel with the helipad that Tiger Woods hit golf balls off of for $1 million." Stay at Home Dad decided to show off his knowledge (because after his answer I don't think he wanted to show off his ignorance) and said, "Oh, isn't that in South America?" I almost bust out laughing, but I didn't want to seem like a rude eavesdropping bitch. Seriously?? South America?? Didn't we learn about the various countries that make up South and Central America in middle school? And Dubai has been in the news so much these last few years for its rapid development and wealth, due to OIL which usually is found in the MIDDLE EAST. If you don't know where Dubai is, ask. You have a mouth you can use besides flapping off erroneous assumptions and making yourself look like a bigger ass. Or just nod and pretend you know. Why show someone, besides your friend or family member who already knows you're not that geographically inclined, that you're a hick. That was just ridiculously sad, yet funny at the same time.
I love telling that story to my friends back home. I even tell my old SAs at Bergdorf so they can fully understand I'm in bizarro land. They all get a good laugh out of it, and some people even ask me if Stay at Home Dad was joking. Hell no, he was serious. And that's what makes it all the more painfully funny.
You have to understand, I was born and raised in New York. Except for a couple of years in my early childhood when we lived abroad for my father's work, I've spent all my time in New York. Sure I went away to college, Massachusetts to be exact. For my high school graduating class, you went to the best college you got into, regardless of where it was located. I just happened to be going to Massachusetts and I was very happy with my choice. I spent my four years there and returned right after graduation to New York and my job search. I than spent my graduation school days in New York, met my husband there, had a couple of kids, and shopped to my heart's content all within the 300 or so square miles encompassing Manhattan. I was very happy. Every year I made a trip abroad to visit friends from college, traveled with my family and friends, and tried to experience as much of the outside world as possible. I loved reading the Times, and the FT when I was working. But that all changed when I moved out West.
My current domicile is a small upper/middle class neighborhood about an hour away from LA. We're not technically a suburb (in my opinion) but more like a satellite village. A lot of the people who live here either grew up in the area and never left, or grew up in the area, left and came back. So it's a somewhat incestuous village. I'm not talking about six degrees of separation, more like two. So with my innate bitchiness I've got to be careful with my snark. People here don't understand it and seem to be a little too "nice" in my opinion. So I tend to keep these things to myself.
Anyway, back to Dubai. Now why would Dubai come up in this little hick town? Well, I was walking to school with Little Man one day when I happened to hear two dads in front of me talking. One, who was dressed in a dress shirt and slacks (I like to call him Professional Dad) was talking to another one who was dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants (I like to call him Stay at Home Dad). Professional Dad was talking about how he would be traveling soon, and so Stay at Home Dad asks him where he's going. Dubai was the answer. I'm thinking, "Gee, that sounds like fun. I'd like to visit Dubai one day and see that hotel with the helipad that Tiger Woods hit golf balls off of for $1 million." Stay at Home Dad decided to show off his knowledge (because after his answer I don't think he wanted to show off his ignorance) and said, "Oh, isn't that in South America?" I almost bust out laughing, but I didn't want to seem like a rude eavesdropping bitch. Seriously?? South America?? Didn't we learn about the various countries that make up South and Central America in middle school? And Dubai has been in the news so much these last few years for its rapid development and wealth, due to OIL which usually is found in the MIDDLE EAST. If you don't know where Dubai is, ask. You have a mouth you can use besides flapping off erroneous assumptions and making yourself look like a bigger ass. Or just nod and pretend you know. Why show someone, besides your friend or family member who already knows you're not that geographically inclined, that you're a hick. That was just ridiculously sad, yet funny at the same time.
I love telling that story to my friends back home. I even tell my old SAs at Bergdorf so they can fully understand I'm in bizarro land. They all get a good laugh out of it, and some people even ask me if Stay at Home Dad was joking. Hell no, he was serious. And that's what makes it all the more painfully funny.
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