Wednesday, February 11, 2009

COITUS INTERRUPTOUS: Why NOT to let a gypsy into your home.

Dear Eldest Daughter of Just 9:

I feel compelled to write this letter to you. I am torn between sadness and empathy for you and outright selfishness at this time. I realize a parent's job is to comfort and console their child at times of fear, and I also realize our job is to act as a "teacher". However, Mom fucked up and while I offered an apology and tried to use what happened last night as a teaching lesson for all of us, there is no reason you needed to wake up 17 times and cry that you were petrified that the "gypsies" would come back. Especially in the midst of the heated sex session that was just under way in your mom and step-dad's locked bedroom.
Yes, mommy has always taught you "Never Talk To Strangers", and even more importantly, "NEVER Let A Stranger Into Your Home". However in the midst of all the chaos in the house which was filled with almost a million people at the time, including your step dad the police officer and several other big, burly men including your Uncle "H", Mommy fell for the Gypsy's pitch. Can you give your mom a fucking break please and get over it? Believe me, I couldn't help to notice how as I opened the front door you questionably clung to my shirt sleeve in curiosity and nervousness, but how could Mommy not listen to a genuine lady's new business premier and miss this one time special for a free carpet cleaning in the room of my choice at 7:30 at night? I mean, ALL the neighbors are doing it, right? Didn't you SEE that list of handwritten names and phone numbers she flashed in front of me for a split millionth of a second? Jeese.



And no, Mommy should NOT have allowed her to "peek" at the fibrous content of that particular carpet while the other strange man accompanying her stood still and silent on the front porch with hands in pockets. How was I supposed to know she would push herself into our home, sit down on the TV room couch and act as if she was my long-lost cousin? And while I sensed your blood pressure reach its maximum level as my stern voice became an outright yell to this stranger that she 'needed to get out of our house immediately and that I was absolutely not comfortable with all of this', I'm still not so sure it was traumatizing enough to cause you to cry all night in fear that the gypsy and her sidekick would return and rob us blind. I mean, come on. Who the hell is that gullible?
And I can't imagine that knowing your step-dad is a police officer and watching him "transform" into his work role at that same very split second he heard me call out to him in the loudest "get your ass down here now because we're about to be assaulted by a gypsy stranger" voice from the front hall would cause you any alarm. And then, to worry about your Uncle who proceeded to follow them outside while turning back and saying "lock the door" could be in any way unsettling to you. My dear child, please understand that you are 9 years old and you should be more concerned that our Wii drum set has a broken wire like the rest of the clan instead of drumming up violent images of what might happen in the midst of darkness while most are sleeping or having passionate hot sex while the gypsies are creeping down our streets in order to execute their crime of choice. P-a-L-E-A-S-E.
So while I would like to once again offer a sincere apology for not setting such a good example to you, I would also like to say that if you don't fucking sleep through the night this evening I will tie you to your bunk and do a bunch of other things I can't even think of at this moment because I am so tired. So there. And now, I'm off to knock the socks off that step-dad of yours, as he was so rudely deprived last night, which in our eyes is Simply.Not.Acceptable.



Love,
Mommy
xo


7 comments:

Dorsey said...

Ah yes...gypsies!! You should see the Southern ones, they try to swindle you with an accent. ha!

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

I had one of those people show up last week or so. He arrived right at dinner time, and I told him to go away. He said he'd be back tomorrow around 5, and I said, okay, whatever.

he showed up at 5:15, but I refused to open the door. My four-year-old was standing at the window howling "Daddy, there's a man at the door!" at the top of his lungs, but I refused to answer it. Eff 'em. I realize it's mean to think that way, but I really didn't want someone casing my joint under the guise of "cleaning my carpets".

besides, I'm tearing the carpets up in a few months and putting down fake wooden floors. Screw you, Hoover guy!

libby said...

Sounds like an exciting/exhausting evening. Makes me want to marry a law enforcer - both for the protection AND the sex!

THE DAILY GRIPE said...

After reading this post, I vow to never utter this phrase again...

"If you're not good, I'm going to sell you to the gypsies!"

Knowing my luck, they'll be knocking at my door!

Run kids.. Run!!!

Dr Zibbs said...

Never trust a gypsy.

binks said...

I have one word for you:
Nyquil.

Sleepytime for those little buggers.

Bwaaahaaahaaahaaa!

I am purely evil today.

Swirl Girl said...

how dare she interrupt nookie. Even if she were literally being dragged away by said Gypsy....never interrupt the nookie.