Sometimes questions shouldn’t be asked and the unknown should be left a mystery. Over the past week I’ve made the mistake of asking people, “Why?” instead of just leaving well enough alone.
Three nights ago I ventured into the living and discovered my two older girls giving my husband a complete pedicure. They giggled delightful while happily painting his toenails with the most hideous combinations of nail polish they could concoct.
My DH is not a brute of a man who bites the heads off of live chickens for entertainment. But in the 20+ years I’ve known him, he’s never donned lingerie and worn make up… that I know of. So I asked him, “What gives?”
His answer was, “I asked for a foot massage and they said that they’d do it, but only if they got to give me a pedicure afterwards.” I guess he must have really wanted his feet rubbed. But I’m keeping a closer eye on my p.j. drawer just in case.
(Prior to the following tirade, please be aware that we do not have cable)
The day before yesterday I overheard a conversation between several students while at work. They were discussing snookies. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I asked them and they were all too happy to answer. Based on my gleanings from the onslaught (all explanations were given simultaneously) I discovered that a snookie isn’t a “what” but rather a “who”. I asked them exactly “who” Snookie was. I also asked why she was named “Snookie” and why she is famous. This was what I discovered… apparently she’s on a reality t.v. show. They didn’t know why she was named Snookie, nor could they name anything tangible that this Snookie person has done for the betterment of humanity. She’s not an actress, a singer a dancer, an athlete or even the wife of any of the aforementioned types of people. Even so, the students all thought she was great. So I decided to look her up on-line.
My dear old mother used to say, “If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.” But she doesn’t say that anymore. That Snookie broad is trashy, obnoxious and dresses like a hooker. A cheap hooker. I was not impressed and can only hope that this is just a passing, difficult phase for this young lady. But it concerns me that the young girls from school thought she was wonderful. What if they want to be like her someday?
Flash forward. Last night I heard some serious “Ews, Ahs,” and “Oh grosses!” coming from the office while I was taking my bath. Curious about what had my girls so fascinated (remember, no cable for entertainment) I quickly threw on some clothes and ran in to join them. Holy moly! They were watching videos of people popping pimples on Youtube. People. Popping. Zits. I had to leave the room.
So last night, as I drifted in that gray twilight between sleep and wake I contemplated restoring cable to my entertainment starved waifs. But then I realized that if we did have cable, instead of searching out vile, gross videos on-line that they might watch Snookie. Honestly, the zits bother me less.
Also, I shall seriously think before asking too many questions in the future.