Bent Words

Bent Words

July 08, 2022


Parades are like hot wings. It's a lot of work for little reward and it's effing hot. Still, I like hot wings. I hate parades.

It's all my FAVORITE things packed into one long street of Hell. There are crowds of territorial people ready to shank you if you put a toe onto their staked out plot of land and there's no place to put your stroller and diaper bag full of beer, which you can't drink anyway because there's no bathroom unless you hoof it fast for 6 blocks back to a grocery store where everyone hates you because you're clearly not going to buy anything while standing in a line to pee.

Still, you do it for the kids.

Get there early to claim your spot, watch your toes turn red under a 95 degree sun since there's zero shade and wait for thousands of heathens to descend upon piles of candy thrown into a dirty street where some little drummer dude just spit out his gum. Your children will turn sticky in NO TIME and you will somehow garner a flyer for every church in your area welcoming you to Mormonism or Christianity or Scientology or church softball.

I've gone to two parades while pregnant in the hottest summers on record with babies due in July and had to wear depends because I was afraid I wouldn't make it for the duration. Mom bladder is no joke. Immediately following plan eatasmuchcandyasyoucanbeforemomanddadyellatyou, you will find all your children in a comatose state OR screaming their heads off because they have to pee, puke or pull a sucker out of their hair. They will fall asleep early in the afternoon, wake up when it's dark and stay awake all night after consuming candy they have hidden in their sock drawer.

I was nursing Avery at a parade and a little Chinese dude came right to our plot and STOLE one of our chairs. I was in such shock that I didn't even say anything. Not like I was going to chase him across the busy intersection like shanking frogger with my boob hanging out and an infant in my arms but if I didn't have that burden, I'da chased him down ninja-style.

Ha Ha Just kidding! There's nothing ninja-like with me. I'm too tall, loud and clumsy for all that shazz.

I'd like to pass it off and say that he needed it more than me but he was already pretty close to the ground so I don't know what he needed an effing chair for.

Tomorrow's scenario agrees with me much more. Gonna be living the suite life with front row parking, free beer, a private bathroom and zero chance of burning in the sun.

Written at 4:14 p.m.