Pretty Ugly

There’s a part of me that will always remain forever young. I’m admittedly fickle and I like trendy things, except for tattoos. (not for the fickle!) I can’t help it. My favorite song changes from week to week. I don’t want costly furniture that I could never part with because of price and other than The CatBoots, I don’t want classic, timeless clothing that supposedly will “never” go out of style.

Like this...



Egads. Is this what Huey meant by “Hip To Be Square?” I adore yellow, but Holy Big Bird, Batman! Was this family portrait taken at a desperate Stepford Wives fundraiser benefitting public television? I’m wondering how the mom’s dress will hold up after the trendy moms beat her silly for dressing her kid in that outfit. Hopefully, the dad wasn't too seriously injured during the Easter egg hunting accident on the golf course at the country club, either. He appears relatively unscathed except for the obvious PTSD that would cause him to appear in public in that getup.

I’m getting off topic. Anyway, (since I like trendy), I know what’s happening with my kids and the things are lame, way cool items and those they must have to prevent ostracism from society. Having four trendy kids, my house is exploding with an accumulation of trendy crap from over the last two decades.

So imagine my surprise when I asked my niece what she would like for her birthday and was told an “Uglydoll”. An uglydoll? WTF is an uglydoll? A sense of panic overwhelmed me. My kids don’t have uglydolls. I feared we missed a stop or something!

I was told that they are dolls that are so ugly, they’re cute. Ok... I get it...like cabbage patch dolls, pug dogs and E.T.!

Ummmm, no. I arrived at the specialty toy store selling these things and was grossly disappointed. They’re not so ugly that they’re cute. They’re just pretty ugly. Soooo not the same thing.



These dolls (I use the term loosely) reminded me of a t-shirt I sewed in my 7th grade home economics class. Besides being about three sizes too small, I didn’t cut it correctly so the arm holes didn’t line up. The blue thread I chose rather clashed with the pink stretchy material, too.

Had I the foresight, I could have just stuffed the shirt and bedazzled on an eye or three and be taking $20 a pop from the parents of tots and tweens. I could be living in my hermit cave surrounded by plush pink shag carpeting, disco balls and Bon Jovi posters, watching laserdiscs of “I Love The 80’s” on my gnarly 70” HDTV while tweeting my peeps on my iPhone. Sweet!!

All this got me thinking that perhaps I’m a little to eager to follow the trend when perhaps I should be seeing about setting some myself. Perhaps something is in order to celebrate my upcoming blogiversary?

I’d like to sleep on it, but I can’t. One of the kids popped a hole in my waterbed with an American Girl doll clothes hanger. What a mess!

Where’s my ShamWow?