O. Hiss
My kids are at my parents' house upstate, enjoying the summer, while their father and I toil at our offices. Air conditioned offices, within walking distance of Starbucks, but still.
Yesterday morning I was talking to my mother on the phone about how annoying it is that Oprah is on the cover of every single issue of "O" magazine and what kind of egomaniac do you have to be to insist on that, and how if we were Oprah, we would give other people a chance to be on the cover, because although we probably wouldn't be building schools in Africa with our kazillions, we would certainly be modest enough to want to take a month or two off from covergirlhood.
I was just about to make an award-winning point about how if I were Oprah, I'd have other celebrities whose name started with "O" on the cover, just for continuity sake, when I heard my son let out a blood curdling scream. Well, at first I thought it was the cat, then I thought it was a young girl, but then I understood that it was my son. There were a few thoughts that raced through my mind at that point: 1. God, I hope his voice changes eventually. 2. Is the Mason family out already and visiting my parents? and 3. It's a good thing that the scream-interruption came when it did, because I can't think of any other celebrities whose name begins with an "O".
He was screaming because apparently he saw a snake in the bedroom. Now he's not a junior Joan of Arc where he sees things that aren't there and they talk to him. And yet a snake? In the bedroom? Isn't that a little Garden of Eden?
My mother went to investigate. My father arrived with a bucket and tongs. My daughter, apparently, didn't look up from her book.
"What's going on now?" I shrieked into the phone.
"We have located the snake," mama narrated. "We will now photograph it."
About half an hour later, my kids called me to tell me the tale of the snake. My son was feeling super-brave and explained that he had saved the day by finding the snake. My daughter didn't see what the big deal was. I though that maybe Clive Owen could be our cover shot. See? Even in a crisis, I'm always thinking.
Yesterday morning I was talking to my mother on the phone about how annoying it is that Oprah is on the cover of every single issue of "O" magazine and what kind of egomaniac do you have to be to insist on that, and how if we were Oprah, we would give other people a chance to be on the cover, because although we probably wouldn't be building schools in Africa with our kazillions, we would certainly be modest enough to want to take a month or two off from covergirlhood.
I was just about to make an award-winning point about how if I were Oprah, I'd have other celebrities whose name started with "O" on the cover, just for continuity sake, when I heard my son let out a blood curdling scream. Well, at first I thought it was the cat, then I thought it was a young girl, but then I understood that it was my son. There were a few thoughts that raced through my mind at that point: 1. God, I hope his voice changes eventually. 2. Is the Mason family out already and visiting my parents? and 3. It's a good thing that the scream-interruption came when it did, because I can't think of any other celebrities whose name begins with an "O".
He was screaming because apparently he saw a snake in the bedroom. Now he's not a junior Joan of Arc where he sees things that aren't there and they talk to him. And yet a snake? In the bedroom? Isn't that a little Garden of Eden?
My mother went to investigate. My father arrived with a bucket and tongs. My daughter, apparently, didn't look up from her book.
"What's going on now?" I shrieked into the phone.
"We have located the snake," mama narrated. "We will now photograph it."
About half an hour later, my kids called me to tell me the tale of the snake. My son was feeling super-brave and explained that he had saved the day by finding the snake. My daughter didn't see what the big deal was. I though that maybe Clive Owen could be our cover shot. See? Even in a crisis, I'm always thinking.
posted by Marinka at
8:15 AM
14 Comments:
What kind of snake?
Glad your son saved the day! and no one was bitten.
(BTW, around here - they call it UPNORTH - god how rediculous hey?)
This was hilarious!
I often worry about my almost two year old son George... His shrieks have always been much higher pitched than those of his twin sister. I think he must drive the local dogs insane, and I often check to see if all of our glassware is stil intact.
But really - how did a SNAKE get into the bedroom? I live in a very woodsy area now, and my city upbringing has not prepared me for something like that...
WFB--can you believe that in all the "excitement" I forgot to ask? I'm guessing it was a python, or a cobra. Maybe both!
Kate--That's so funny about the glass ware! I don't know how the snake got into the bedroom. I'm sure you'll agree that the only reasonably solution is to seal of the bedroom and maybe relocate.
Good post! You know what else bugs me about Oprah? When she does shows about "the secret" and acts all amazed about that hooey and treats it like it is real.
Oprah: "Amazing. So all you have to do is imagine being a unicorn and you will become one?"
Secret Schmo: "YES!"
Oy. Still, I can't diss Oprah too much. None of us can. We are all genetically engineered to like her...thus her success.
Owen Wilson - goofball cutie - would make a great cover.
Also...sneaky snakes scare the bejeezus out of me.
I can't stop laughing from beginning to end. "we have located the snake. we will now photograph it" LOL!
I only thought of Oscar the Grouch, Orville Redenbacher and Ozzy Osbourne, but I think most of them are dead.
What about Olivia Newton John?
Your parent's are cracking me up now. Apparently, it's genetic, this funny bone.
I have a love/hate thing with Oprah. Fascinating. Annoying. Brilliant. The cover thing has bugged me forever. Owen Wilson. Omar the Tentmaker. Olivia Newton John. We have a thing here. She should pay us. Millions.
I can't stand Oprah either. She is WAY too full of herself. Gah.
Anyone as big as Oprah is going to have people who love and hate her. I refuse to say anything bad for her after seeing the schools in Africa. Her charity works alone offset her own spending habits.
A snake, eh? Even I, with my husband the snake-charmer, would have shrieked to see one that wasn't properly contained.
If photographs were taken, how come we're not seeing them????
i read your comment on goodmom/badmom today about being adopted by the bloggess. and now i'm going to stalk you. unless you've had a stalking problem in the past, then it won't be like that.
What kind of deadly snake was this? Possibly the one of the garter snake variety? (And I have no clue if I just spelled that correctly...)
As for celebrities - to those with O middle names count? Not that it helps much - I'm drawing a blank still - but it might perhaps open up a few more...
Mike--of course, we all Hail Oprah, and I agree about her Secret crap. But we still Hail Her! (and Heather!)
Kristine and ALF--yes! Owen! and Olivia! I'll get my people in touch with their people!
Jon and P.K.--photos coming soonish, I promise!
Alice--I can't hate Oprah (but I try to, sometimes).
Anymommy and Tracey--Yes, Oprah and I have a complicated relationship. But I'm certain that a few gifts from her could set it right!
Yo--wait, was that horse head in my bed from you?
Z--Yes, I think it was one of those garden snakes. And I'll take any O-celebrity that I can get! You know, for my fake magazine.
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