This gal Amanda knows:
I was looking forward to a real summer afternoon of day drinking, sunbathing, and perhaps a hot dog or three. I wore a yellow dress and brought some weed and a bottle of bourbon. When I arrived I was greeted by a random dude who guided me to a palm and bougainvillea-soaked backyard.
There were so many grown-ups and screaming toddlers. Despite the fact that I’m no longer a teenager and have bills, I don’t consider myself a grown-up. The difference is slight to the naked eye, and is definitely more philosophical, but it’s there.
There is a tone of voice in grown-ups. Much like that Hollywood accent in old movies, grown-ups talk about stupid things in a stupid tone. They also have small children, whom they dislike greatly, and speak to as if they were programming a robot.
I struck up a conversation with an elderly man who was manning the grill. We talked about The War. I slipped away to refill my drink and almost tripped over a tiny little boy named Oliver.
I dropped to my knees in order to see his eyes. “Hi Oliver”.
He looked at me and took my hand. Oliver led me to the punch bowl labeled Adult Lemonaide. His sticky hand lifted the ladle and he moved it around slowly in the punch, enjoying the sloshing sound.
Read on for Oliver’s mom’s reaction and the life-affirming conclusion to the whole episode.
Check back in 10 years.
Win
This piece was published as a joke, right? To poke fun at this Amanda person. I am serious.
No, I only wanted to poke fun at Alameda.
alamanda.
A MA DEAL
“My little pink devotional” + a trite story about still “being a kid” = hilarity.
Not sure how any of this reflects on Alameda as these types of parents are everywhere. Pretty sure the obnoxiously self-aware “vignette” is everywhere, too. At least we can’t blame SF for that. This reminds me of Livejournal 2001.
Welcome to Tumblr, bro. Sorry you don’t like it.
Welcome to teh internets, bro. Sorry you don’t get it.
Everyone is an asshole in that story except the elderly man.
Especially the narrator.
Alameda: So sleepy they have the best tiki bar in the Bay.
“What’s It Like For A Lonely Alcoholic To Go To A BBQ Where Not One Single Bit Of The Story Had To Do With Actual Eating of Meat or BBQ Things, Goddamn It, I Wanted To Read About Tasty Fucking Meat”
“Goddamn It, I Wanted To Read About Tasty Fucking Meat”
Well, you’ve got me.
Wots up dear? You know, you’re showing a fuckload of comments in the comment sidebar that don’t come up when you click on ‘em, luv.
Oh, wait, now they are.
Or not so much. What, you’ve got a delay working?
Not sure what’s going on. Working on it. Sorryboutit.
i was about 2 cry “allan deleted my comment.”
This will teach her to wonder free of Dolores park.
I wonder if you meant wander
Great story. There are so many bad parents like that Robotomom out there. They don’t know how to relate to little children but treat them as an annoyance always trying to “correct” make behave.
Horrible parents like that should never have kids.
I think that what you’ve written here is what I don’t understand about the story. I thought that it was a short fictional story.
Thinking this, I found the plot confusing because what I saw in the Alameda woman was a tired mom telling her kid to back off of playing with a punchbowl that didn’t belong to him, that was set aside for adults, and that was full of alcohol. I was surprised that a person would attack the Alameda woman–who is obviously having a rough day with her kid–in such an especially cruel way (calling her “ugly” and otherwise attacking her appearance).
So I thought that the narrator was a fictional main character, not a real person.
When she asks the kid if he’s “ever heard of ice,” I was ready for the story to get REAL interesting. Oh well.
Still, a good story. I don’t get all the hating going on up in here. Is Alameda Rotary Club spamming Mission Mission?
Ehh, it’s less about the honor of the ARC and more about the trite, cliche story of a transplant who pats herself on the back for feeling like Peter Pan.
I feel like Amanda is an example of what crazy cat ladies were like in their 20s
Just a quick explanation, because I’m afraid some real people’s feelings were hurt by this story. As wackamillion and Lamb suspected, my retarded peter pan feelings were fictionalized and weren’t meant to hate on an “ugly mom” and Alameda.
Until missionmission only 2 people knew about this tumblr, so I didn’t think a spur of the moment rant about not wanting to grow up and feeling intimidated by people who simply have their shit together would offend anyone. But…that’s the internet for you.
Please take it as boring, existentialist drivel that probably would be better suited for an Angela Chase monologue.
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