Yesterday morning after I dropped Caroline off at VBS (It is Crocodile Dock for those of y’all who knew what she was talking about when she referred to Skeeter and skunk spray. Well done. I am impressed with your VBS knowledge.) I drove straight to Target. Ever since the Target moved an extra seven minutes and three stoplights away, I feel as though I must plan my trips to ensure maximum productivity, especially now that the big oil and gas companies have started their annual tradition of summer thievery at the gas pumps.
I went to Target with four goals in mind:
1. Purchase birthday gifts for the 342 birthday parties that Caroline is invited to during the next two weeks.
2. Find a set of travel-sized hot rollers because I am tired of sacrificing maximum hair volume for room in my suitcase. (Yes, I still use hot rollers. It’s how I roll.) (I apologize for the pun. I couldn’t resist.)
3. Attempt to find some self-tanner for my face because I keep it totally covered in sunscreen and it no longer matches my body.
4. To spend less than $100.00 and not get suckered in to buying any Mossimo goods or Balinese-inspired tschotkes.
I am proud to say that I achieved all of those goals, although there was a close call with a swimsuit coverup and the verdict is still out on the self-tanner because for all I know it might make me look like I’m going through puberty by tomorrow.
Unfortunately, my pride in my Target success was short lived. Gulley called while I was at Starbucks buying myself a congratulatory Venti Green Iced Tea (I’ll take that with two Splendas and lacking in the deliciousness that is Diet Coke, please) and mentioned that she was in Target looking at Father’s Day cards.
Father’s Day cards. I knew I was forgetting something.
I certainly wasn’t going to drive all the way back to Target because I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it but the Target moved and it’s now approximately too far away for repeat trips. I told Gulley that I was just going to go to Hallmark and look for cards there. She told me that she’d thought about Hallmark but didn’t go there because she believes they have some big conspiracy going on involving a lack of traditional cards and a surplus of cards that talk or sing or tap dance out of the room when you open them and they charge $6.00 a card.
Because you can’t put a price on being totally annoyed by a greeting card with singing hamsters.
I kind of thought she was exaggerating even though I should have known better because Gulley and I never exaggerate or over-dramatize anything unless it’s our disappointment at Ed leaving “The Bachelorette” to go back to his job as a consultant in Chicago. But who can blame us because his departure RUINED the whole show and there is no way Jillian is going to find lasting love with any of the guys who are left. Breakdance instructors are fun to date but you don’t want to marry one because there’s a good chance he might do the caterpillar at your wedding reception and there are some wounds that are too deep to overcome.
Anyway, I went into Hallmark and it was just as she predicted. There were a handful of traditional cards to choose from and then rows and rows of singing cards. Where are we as a society that we can’t just hand our fathers a simple piece of folded paper that says “Happy Father’s Day”? Will it add to my dad’s enjoyment to have a card that features Kool and the Gang singing “Celebrate”?
Well, maybe. I mean it is Kool and the Gang.
But I know for a fact that if I bought P a card with singing hamsters there’s a good chance we’d start our Father’s Day with mild profanity and homemade pancakes.
I left the store empty-handed, then went home because it was past 10:45 a.m. which means it was time to get inside in the air-conditioning before the heat caused me to spontaneously combust.
When I walked inside I was feeling a little irritable from the heat and the singing cards, but then I got the mail and my whole day changed. One little postcard made me feel as if I’d just won some sort of lottery. I wish I’d remembered to take a picture of the card but unfortunately I didn’t think about it until it was three layers deep in the kitchen trash.
Do you know what it was?
A card from the people at Nielsen informing me that my household has been selected to participate in the Nielsen ratings. They’ll be calling me this week to let me know more about it. I feel as if I’ve just been given the keys to a magical kingdom. In fact, I’m seriously thinking about purchasing some graph paper and colored pencils to properly chart my T.V. viewing.
I’ve always looked at the Nielsen ratings and wondered “Who are these people and why do they not like all the same shows I like? What’s wrong with them?” But now, NOW, the viewing tables have been turned and I have a voice in what I want to see on T.V. Frankly, I am a little drunk with the power.
Just know that if all of a sudden you see a drastic upswing in the ratings for “Tori and Dean”, “The Bachelorette”, and virtually any programming on BravoTV, you have me to thank for it.
Well, and the folks at Nielsen for their brilliant choice in selecting my household completely at random.
I’m just so glad they didn’t send me a singing postcard to let me know.
Also, I just realized we’ll probably have to record P’s television habits as well. Good news for Uncle Ted and Ultimate Fighting!
Nielsen has no idea what they’ve just unleashed.