Remember those back-to-school essays: “What I Did on My Summer Vacation”? Heck, your pride and joy might be composing one as we speak.
But no one ever asks us Moms what we did. What’s that you say? Oh, now you want to know what we did? Well, it feels a bit patronizing, but since you asked, here’s what we did:
We Broke Our Kids
Erin:We are very blessed to be able to stay home with our kids but rest assured, we make the most of it.
Ellen: So much so that on one particular day, when we had nothing to do, Jellybean (11) screamed, “Hooray, I’m staying in my jammies all day!”
Erin: Yeah, if only we ALL could be as tortured as Jellybean.
Ellen: We are crying a river for her First World Problems…
Erin:So with our tongues wedged firmly in our cheeks…
First World Kid Problems Endured by Our Children
Learned to Fish Before Learning To Read. Could Have Just Gone To The Grocery Store.
Sore Arms Because Our Moms Stick Us In Canoes or Kayaks Every Chance They Get. Made it Hard To Keyboard.
Had To Find Our Shoes Because A Small Fortune Was Spent on Appropriate Footwear for Outdoor Adventures. Lost Our Level On Doodle Jump.
Had to Learn Fun But Silly Sports. Didn’t Get To Play Wii.
Had To Dance In The Rain. TVs, Couches, And Computers Were Not An Option While Camping.
Had To Conquer Power Tools Because Mom Insists I Have Life Skills. Could have ordered this stuff online with my smartphone.
Trotted Out To Playgrounds and State Parks For Fresh Air & New Experiences. Needed To Practice Wipe-Out On Our Kinects At Home.
Had To Swim With Rocks In Falling Water. Could Have Just Googled The Closest Chlorinated Pool.
Had To Learn Hard-Core Safety Techniques. We Thought Our Moms Could Keep Us Safe With Bubble Wrap.
Had To Whittle Toys. Mom Forgot To Pack My Action Figures.
Erin:So, alas, even if our kids’ essays sound a little wistful for some downtime, we can say that it was all for their own good. We did it all out of love. We. . .
Ellen: . . . had a fabulous summer and we are NOT gonna be wracked with guilt that their hands hurt writing their back-to-school essays.
It was a lovely Girls Night Out. Good restaurant, good libations, and great friends… until someone brought IT up.
The Spark That Burned Girls’ Night Out to the Ground
Ellen: The conversation was bubbling along. Everyone was laughing. News was being exchanged. Then someone said, “Did you know Andy Griffith passed away last week?” And YOU said. . .
Erin: “I can’t stand Andy Griffith.”
Ellen: And then there was silence.
Erin:For about HALF a second. Before everyone lost their ever-loving minds on me. It was as if I had said “Why, yes, those jeans really do make you look fat”. I would never say that by the way, but the reaction might have been less hysterical if I did.
Ellen: But peacemaker that you are, you DID proclaim Opie to be a stupid name as a follow-up statement.
Erin:That MAY have dumped gasoline on the fire. Listen people, it rhymes with Dopey! It can’t just be me.
Who knew that Andy Griffith was gonna be the guy who turned me into a social pariah? I can’t believe this was the second group of people to lose their minds on me about our buddy from Mayberry.
Ellen: I CAN’T BELIEVE you brought it up again after you nearly reduced your friend’s July 4th party to an emotional maelstrom of rending garments and gnashing teeth.
Erin:It was like I had spit on the flag and apple pie.
Ellen: Just to clarify she did NOT spit on the flag OR apple pie. Focus your hate mail on the topic at hand: The Andy Griffith Show.
Goober and Erin have communication problems
Erin:I MAY have pushed everyone to the brink when I said, “If he wasn’t already dead, I would shoot him myself.”
Ellen: What in the name of Goober is WRONG with you?
Erin:You know how when a Great White Shark senses blood in the water and just starts snapping its jaws at everything. The group outrage frenzy might have made me react a little more strongly than I would have liked. Or it could have been the Whiskey Sour Slushes.
Ellen: This analogy might be more accurate if the shark actually bites its own butt. You shot yourself in the foot not once, but TWICE with Barney Fife’s revolver. This is really hard to do considering he had only one bullet.
But on this night, I had your back. I agreed with you because I always found the whole show, well, patronizing.
Erin:Exactly! We both grew up in small podunk towns. Heck, when I was a little girl I lost my chicken in the grocery store and we barely got home before the phone was ringing with a helpful townsfolk wanting to return it.
Ellen: Wait. Are we talking about a real chicken or pre-packaged?
Erin:Neither. It was a stuffed animal lovey.
Ellen: Okay, because if you had lost a live chicken in a public store and had a neighbor call to return it, we could just end this discussion right here. You would have total rights to bust on Mayberry until the cows come home.
Erin:But since that is not the case, we decided to do a little research to see if our disdain is misplaced. It has been decades since either one of us was force-fed an episode. We’re stirring pots based solely on the aftertaste this silly show left in our mouths before we were even able to drive down Main Street.
Erin:And quite frankly waited in anticipation to be proven correct.
Erin:The conclusion? I have been outcast because people can’t handle the truth!
Ellen: Golllll-y, I hope y’all didn’t actually watch that video because it was just as sexist, podunk, and patronizing as we remembered.
Erin: In the episode, a traveling British valet…
Ellen: On a bike no less..
Erin: ...bumbles into Mayberry and causes a vehicular accident.
Ellen: Translated—The Brit’s wrong-side-of-the-road cycling causes a beater truck to smash into empty crates. At 5 mph. Causing “damage” to the primer paint job.
Erin:He does not have the cash to pay for the damage, so Andy has him come to his home to work off the debt.
Ellen: What is more American apple pie than making someone your INDENTURED SERVANT!?! Ever heard of due process, Matlock?
Erin:So blundering misunderstandings ensue and the indentured servant overhears Barney and Andy talking about him…
Ellen: Like 12 year old girls. Wait, that is insulting to 12 year old girls.
Erin:Well, it’s definitely not icon worthy behavior.
Ellen: The Englishman skulks off, Andy chases him down, and, I swear, talks to him like he is one pancake short of a stack to convince him to come on back to his house.
Opie doesn’t need our love
Erin:This is a man he left Dopey home alone with for two entire days.
Ellen: It’s Opie. Listen, Ron Howard lost his childhood to this show. I feel uncomfortable busting on him.
Erin:I think he’s okay. He’s had some achievements since then.
Ellen: True. Well, one positive revelation we had is that Don Knotts is freakin’ hilarious.
Erin:Maybe he’s the reason we didn’t puke on our TV trays when we were forced to watch this malarkey.
Barney’s face says, “I’m a comic genius.” Andy just looks mean.
Ellen: So, I’m just going to say it, and I’m probably going to regret it: Erin was right.
Erin: We are standing firm that The Andy Griffith Show is not sacred and is fair game to be ridiculed.
Legal Department: The views expressed in this post are solely those of Ellen and Erin and not those of the entire Sisterhood. There is full expectation that the Girls’ Night Out dog pile will continue in the comment section. Carry on.
It is a beautiful spring day, and we are lazing on the couch in Erin’s sunroom blogging. Erin is absentmindedly stroking her cat.
Erin says as she strokes his chest, “Wow, my cat’s fur is turning red. I thought he was all black.”
Ellen replies, “Cats just don’t turn red. Are you sure “he” is a male? Those are calico markings and calicos are almost universally female.”
Erin says, “Of course I have a male, I’m not stupid. More importantly, who knows this kind of sh*%? <pause> Dork.”
But Erin proceeds to reluctantly flip the cat over and poke around in its nether regions. Oh, yes, there was searching.
Erin exclaims, “There’s no penis! This is not my cat!”
Cat thinks, “WTF? Buy me dinner first.”
Ellen at this point is crying so hard that tears and snot are running down her face. Erin opens the door and shoos the grifter cat out faster than Maria Shriver gave the boot to the Terminator.
We can’t make this mess up. Erin has two “real” cats. She had previously taken one to the vet because he was losing his fur. The vet diagnosed anxiety. Do you think this could be the reason…
Meow
Anxiety!?! Yeah, I got anxiety! My backside is a balding mess! There's been a strange cat living in my house! And no one knew! Thank goodness for Ellen and her mad genetic knowledge!
