make-up \ˈmā–ˌkəp\ – something that makes up for a previous postponement, omission, failure, or deficiency. ~ Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary
Every Wednesday my three-year-old daughter went to gymnastics.
Well, most every Wednesday.
Because of my forgetfulness, and occasional bouts with lethargy, we missed a class or two, or three, or maybe . . . well, who’s counting? Thankfully, I was able to schedule make-up classes.
The first time we missed class I informed Lucy that yes we missed gymnastics but not to be sad because “I was able to schedule a make-up class for next Monday.” To my surprise, Lucy wasn’t the least bit upset. She appeared even excited about what she called her “new class.”
The day of the make-up class came. As I dressed Lucy in her black long-sleeved leotard, she asked me,”Dad, why do I have to wear my leotard to the make-up class?”
I answered simply, “Because it’s gymnastics. Gymnasts wear leotards.”
For a moment Lucy looked confused, before apparently making sense of my response. Running late (what else is new?), I moved past her odd question and quizzical look.
As we pulled into the gymnastics parking lot, Lucy asked, “Is the make-up class here?”
“Of course, where else would it be Silly?” I said.
Lucy sat silently, suddenly looking unsure about the situation.
I hustled Lucy inside and quickly shed all but her leotard (and Dora The Explorer underwear — stylishly visible underneath). Racing through the gym door, I directed her to a smiling instructor seated in a small circle of Lucy sized humans.
Lucy hesitated before slowly making her way to the circle and finding a spot to sit.
For the next fifty-five minutes I watched with a handful of Moms from the waiting area as the children stretched, straddled, somersaulted, jumped, ran, balanced, and lastly — what I’m told is the very “bestest” part — got ink stamps on their hands and feet. Lucy gave her instructor a high-five and came bursting through the gym door. Looking like she had something very important to tell me, she ran to where I sat.
“Daddy! There was no makeup in the class.”
Puzzled by her comment I repeated,”No makeup?”
Shaking her head from side-to-side, Lucy said, “Yes, they had no makeup! It was not the makeup class.”
I smiled, “Honey, that was not a makeup class it was . . .”
Interrupting, she said, “I know Dad, you put me in the wronged class!”
Oh okay, you mean the makeup class, as in a class about cosmetics, commonly confused by fathers with the make-up class, as in the save your ass class when he forgets to take his kid to the regularly scheduled class. Well, someone had some explaining to do — and that would be me.
The same word but with a different meaning conundrum. The peculiarity of language or the natural by-product of a forty-four-year-old man sharing his days with a three-year-old makeup crazed little girl?
I don’t know who or what is to blame. But I do know, you can’t make up this stuff.
makeup \ˈmā–ˌkəp\ – cosmetics used to color and beautify the face. ~ Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary
Kevin Rudge is a stay-at-home dad of three girls and practicing trophy husband. He lives and writes from his home in suburban Chicago. More of his humorous observations and confessions can be found at MyDadDoesNotWork.com.
This morning on “Oprah’s Farewell Season,” which has the same resonance as Cher’s Farewell Tour, given that Ms. Winfrey is not really “leaving” any medium, featured duets with a female legend of rock paired with a younger generation artist. The most curious and cognitively dissonant was the pairing of Joan Jett and Miley Cyrus, the former being a true ground breaker in the world of punk with her band The Runaways, the latter being a manufactured Disney princess currently struggling with how, in full view of the tabloid addicted pop cultural landscape, to translate her outsize marginal talent into a respectable adult career.
For Ms. Cyrus this made their duet of “Bad Reputation” both a declaration of defiance and primer on the impotence of defiance if what all you ever were is a randomly entitled tween queen.
This all reminded me of the hullabaloo over that preciously entitled princess Donald Trump (see Vanity Fair portrait ca. 2006) and his bid for the Republican nomination for president in 2012.
He also began the rehabilitation of his image on “Oprah’s Farewell Season,” there to prove what a family man he was because as Oprah ( gamely playing along) declared “we don’t think of you as a family man.” He appeared with all of his children from all three of his babymammas and his current wife, barely older than his daughter Ivanka, about whom he once said was so pretty that if she weren’t his daughter he’d be hitting that.
Needless to say, he didn’t come off as a family man.
He did however come off as feudal lord, as you heard every one of his children and his child bride repeatedly (and solely) describe their relationship with The Donald as “a job to do.” (At least Melania was being honest.) This was enough to convince Elizabeth Hasselbeck on “The View” to declare that “Donald Trump has created more jobs than President Obama.” (When the ladies of “The View” complain about what a stalking thin skinned sourpussy you are, what is Hu Jintao going to think of you?)
Needless to say, he did manage to turn his seedy personal life into an economic issue and that alone is a resounding victory in a political landscape in which every social issue is being framed as an economic one. (See Rick Santorum and Newt Gingrich.)
Donald, lest you think is trotting only the birther argument as a means to prove his authenticity (as in everyone is quite certain he is an American citizen), is pulling out all the stops to prove his superiority to anyone who dares disagree with him. In responding to Gail Collins’ column in The New York Times he wrote:
Even before Gail Collins was with the New York Times, she has written nasty and derogatory articles about me. Actually, I have great respect for Ms. Collins in that she has survived so long with so little talent. Her storytelling ability and word usage (coming from me, who has written many bestsellers), is not at a very high level.
Forget the syntax for a moment. “Not at a very high level?” Wow, now that’s word usage! With all this authenticity and career trajectory fur flying around, Mr. Trump betrays the existence of ghostwriters as Miley does of AutoTune when she sings live. But given the level of sophistication each presumes of their audience, their talent is unquestionable. Just ask them. Though to be fair, even institutions of higher learning like Rutgers are earning their bad reputation these days when they pay more for a lecture from Snooki than they do for Toni Morrison. Who’s he you ask? Never mind.
All irreverence aside, you will be happy to know that the serious camp in charge of Mr. Trump’s presidential aspirations is being run by none other than a man commonly known as Stewie Rah Rah, the #1 King of Fun.
What more can I say?
“I’ve been 40 and I’ve been 50. 40 is better.”
“You don’t seem any smarter than the last time that I saw you.”
What I love about Cher is that she’s part of a rare breed of celebrity who is authentic; she tells it like it is and always has. Whether she’s discussing fame and wealth, love and sex, body image and aging, mental health or politics one thing is perfectly clear: Cher shoots from the hip. She is thankfully unaffected by a chromosomal abnormality I like to call “Up Syndrome.”
Watch this 2008 interview, especially between minute 5 and 6. Think very carefully when you think to yourself that she’s wrong. She’s not!
I have often quoted from this piece which I saw when it originally aired. I found it today on YouTube. I bet you start quoting some of what you hear too.
Watch this hilarious send-up of Bravo-style reality programming as only Tina Fey and cast can bring you. Sherri Shepherd is dead on as a Housewife. 30 Rock – Queen of Jordan – Video – NBC.com.
You think Sam Walton and family became the richest in the world because they paid for health benefits and respected women? Winning!
Additionally, if you have infants, the girls don’t mind having strangers spill stuff all over them and they’re really good at cleaning up.
In other news, the first Republican to file for a 2012 presidential run is a gay activist. He says he’s Republican because he favors small government.
An ex-boyfriend says he’s a Republican because he can’t stay out of other people’s bedrooms.
To promote the release of her new CD Femme Fatale today, earlier in the week Britney Spears performed 3 songs in front of a live audience in San Francisco. “Good Morning America” devoted its entire second hour this morning to the pre-taped live concert event.
“Pre-taped live concert event” pretty much describes all of Britney’s work, so it wasn’t particularly odd to see on live morning television.
No, the oddity here was Ms Spears’ lethargic attitude, which regrettably brought to mind the fried chicken/Dunkin Donuts/rehab addicted Britney at the MTV Awards a few years back.
The choreography generally had the energy and complexity of a chair aerobics class at a senior center though at it’s peak it did mimic the artistry one sees at the finale of a 70’s themed performance at a respite center for the developmentally disabled.
As for her “solos,” Ms Spears stood almost in a haze, bending over or rocking back and forth from side to side, often gyrating her neck in order to whip her hair into motion, thus appropriating the entire repetoire of a dancer with a C section at a Gentlemen’s Club around 2pm on any given weekday.
Despite all of this, there was some good news to report. If one thinks about it, counter-intuitive as it may be, it is quite heartening to hear her declare on her new single that she plans to keep on dancing “Till the World Ends.“
She could use the practice.
& How Much We Don’t Like Her Face
& Her Body
& Why We HAD To Fix It Before We Put The Fat Ugly Bitch On Our Cover
& Why You Should Be Grateful and Stop Complaining
& Why That Would Make You A Fat Ugly Bitch As Well