Afternoon Tea at The Fairmont: I took my mom to The Fairmont for proper afternoon tea this past Sunday. She loves the shit out of tea, tiny sandwiches, petit fours and me in a dress so I figured this was my chance to be a good daughter for once. Evidently the price of being a good daughter is fucking HIGH. It cost me $120 for 3 pots of fucking tea, a sampler of tea sandwiches and tiny cakes. On the real, each person got one plate with 4 tiny sandwiches, 1 tiny scone and 4 bite size pastries…for $33 a head I expected a fucking CART of tiny sandwiches and cake. You know how much “tea” I can buy with $120???
Mother Knows Best: I’m creeped out by women who refer to themselves in the third person as “Mother.” My ex-boyfriend’s mom signs cards “Mother.” She also refers to herself and her mom as Mother….”Mother worries about you.” I never knew which Mother she was talking about. It’s was creepy and unnecessarily proper. It reminded me of some Norman Bates type shit. Bottom line: You shouldn’t be allowed to use the word “Mother” in reference to yourself unless your son is Glenn Danzig or you are Mother Nature, Mother Goose or Mother from Mother’s Cookies.
Everybody loves…BABIES: You have got to be fucking kidding me. A documentary about four babies during the first year of their lives? Seriously? I already know what fucking happens to Babies. They eat. They shit. They cry. They spit. They vomit. They sleep. They annoy and inconvenience their parents (and everyone around their parents) by just existing. What’s so fucking special about these babies? Are they getting jobs? Are they learning to read? Are they deep sea diving? Are they writing novels?
But Funkybiznatch….They are babies are from different parts of the world!! Yeah so what? It’s still a movie about fucking babies. Doing baby shit. Now if you told me that the Japanese baby trains Vietnamese babies how to properly sew the swoosh on a pair of Air Force 1s and that Mongolian baby was dressing up like Gengis Khan on weekends and leading Mongol ambush reenactments or that the SF baby was running an organic breast milk cart at Dolores Park. I would totally be interested. This is a movie for annoying women who want to coo and caw for two hours with their precious little shit bag in their lap. They want to be wowed by the lack of modernity in the Nambian household in the year 2010. Oh, my gosh….those babies only have rocks to play with and look how happy they are! Fucking spare me.