Skip to main content

A picture tells 1000 words...

And now Parenthood Theatre presents for your viewing pleasure an improvised dramatic play entitled "My Mother is an Asshole and Won't Let Me Eat This Plastic Bag for No Reason!" Don't worry if you're not a theater person, this is a super short show with only one act and not much of an arc.

In the first scene we see our lead characters, Mommy and Bo, who are out on an evening walk with their sweet dog, Dave. Things are great at first and as Mommy and Bo make their way through the serene setting that is Valley Village on a cool, late summer evening, life seems perfect.

However things take an abrupt turn as Bo discovers the plastic bag on the leash that was reserved for Dave that Mommy was clearly keeping from her in an attempt to torture her in some way.

The next scene depicts a triumphant Bo and naive Mommy, who doesn't realize that her baby daughter has decided to put the potentially dangerous plastic bag in her mouth while Mommy, in her blissful state of of ignorance, blindly continues to take selfies with Bo, who is teetering on the edge of danger! Bo happily devours the plastic bag, gleefully mocking Mommy's lack of recognition.

Suddenly in an unexpected twist Mommy realizes that Bo is carelessly exposing herself the plastic bag of danger, and more importantly, the disgusting stigma that dog shit baggies hold, and in one swift motion saves her baby from possible harm and least of all, an embarrassing story for when she gets older in which to regale all of her future dates with.

Bo, true to form, is having none of this nonsense, and in the last and painfully longest scene of the whole play, she let's Mommy have it with the fury of ten babies who have missed their nap windows. And as the curtain slowly lowers on this harrowing scene between a mother and daughter, the message of the play is ever so clear: My mom is a total asshole for not letting me possibly suffocate on this doggie bag, and she will know it if it's the last thing I do!!!!!!

I give this production four stars and two glasses of room temp white wine.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A "Geriatric Pregnancy" aka "Wow, You Must Be Old As F**k!"

Recently at a store I frequent I had an interaction with the checker I always chat with. He's a nice guy, young, stoned, friendly. For a dude who's constantly baked his memory is impeccable. He always asks about my daughter, and our dog, Dave, and wants to hear about the thing I told him I was going to do the last time I saw him, etc. You get it. Just as I was about to say goodbye he asked if he could check out my engagement ring, since he was in the market and wanted some ideas! And even though I fucking hate it when other people do this, I squealed and jumped up and down a little bit. It seems it's an involuntary response. I asked about his girlfriend. Dude: "She's super cool, very chill for a Caucasian." Me: "Oh, that's good. Most white people are the worst." Dude: "She's like a hippie chick, but not a Vegan or anything." Me: "Thank God." Dude: "And she wants to have kids one day, which is awesome!

My Dad

Yesterday, July 5th, my dad, Richard Albert, died. He was diagnosed with Parkinson's about 12 years ago and from that developed an insidious type of dementia called Lewy Bodies, which causes a lot of physical issues and accelerates the Parkinson's decline. Basically he was served a shit sandwich with a side of fuck my life. My dad was a quirky guy with a weird sense of humor. He used to play with me by chasing me around the house with a hammer and pretend he was going to smash my little toes. He would pack our lunches with a dog treat that he carefully tin foiled so when we would open it up at lunch all the other kids would laugh and scream. He made us waffles with ice cream in the middle for breakfast and ONLY creamed corn for dinner. He drank buttermilk from the carton. And prune juice. He was private. He would take hour long poops just to be alone and think. He was a scientist and mathematician. He was always trying to work out these insanely impossible to solve equati

Scared Sh*tless For Your Kids Safety? Try These Alternative Solutions!

If you're a parent I bet your days are filled to the brim with utter fear and anxiety that at any minute the world will end. It's scary enough having kids and worrying they're going to hurt themselves just by falling off their roller shoes, let alone the possibility of them walking into a Chuck E Cheese on a random Tuesday and having to duck and cover because one of the animatronics with a history of violence has beef with the day manager. (How did he get hired in the first place?!) So what are we, as parents of the future generation, supposed to do to deal with all this insanity? While there are the logical and thoughtful solutions suggested time after time like, uh, how about we don't give that dude who with a Google history exclusively on "How To Burn A Cat Alive Without Making A Mess" that AR-15, ideas like that  are clearly insane and threaten the very core of all American values of being able to own ALL THE GUNS.    It seems like the only thing we can