Thursday, May 5, 2011

I am Tragically Un-hip

I talked to T. Jo while I was driving Princess to school this morning. (Let's forget for now that I always *vowed* to NOT be one of the parents carting my offspring off in Crappy American SUV luxury. I'm a slave to a good education, though, and I can't argue with my Kindergarten kid reading at a 3rd grade level. She also does math harder than I can do, although really, that doesn't take much.)

Me: "So anyway, I was totally singing this Floyd song..."
Her: "Hang on! I have to harvest my raspberries!"
Me: "Wha....? Is that a secret code for something?!"
Her: "No, I'm playing a Smurf game and if I don't harvest them when it beeps, then they'll die."
Me: "Um."
Her: "Papa Smurf said I have to grow more."
Me: "You sound like you're high. Just stare at the floor until you stop seeing Papa Smurf. This hallucination will pass."
Her: "You'd love this game!"
Me: "Do you grow anything else?..."
Her: "Well, you can grow potatoes, but they take a day."
Me: "Dude. What if you are at work?"
Her: "Your phone beeps to tell you to harvest things."
Me: "What if you're in a meeting?!"
Her: "Then I say, hang on, I have to harvest my raspberries."
Me: "Of course. You still sound high."

I promised her that I'd blog about this today. I have fulfilled that promise, as you can see. I will tell you right now: I don't do Farmville, Cafe World, Smurf land (whatever it's called), etc. Last year, for about the whole summer, I was hooked on Bejeweled (aka Bedazzled) and that was bad enough. I tended to neglect the children and let them make their own margaritas while I lined up jewels and went for high score of the day. Competition was fierce! K. Jo would get a higher rank and then I'd have to spend five hours trying to be *her* score. I'm telling you, duct tape just can't hold a determined child long enough. Right??

I really don't have time to grow fake crops and worry if they're growing properly. I kill plants in REAL LIFE, thank you. All the time. Last year's vision of greenery on my deck? I'm staring at the corpse of a palm front RIGHT this minute. I haven't hauled it off to the trash, but I'm guessing it didn't do very well under 7 feet of ice this past winter.

The last thing I need is some angry fucking Smurf telling me to tend my potatoes. Or my raspberries. The only raspberries I consume, as you know, are real and in daiquiri form, smothered under a fluffy layer of whipped cream. Mmmmmm. Raspberries.

No Smurfs involved. And as for Cafe World or Cooking Time or whatever, I L O A T H E cooking in real life, so making imaginary pies is just about akin to Prison Game or Water Torture Time. Those aren't real games....as far as I know.

I know a lot of people who get all hot and bothered about games, but I just can't dedicate my *highly-valuable* time to them. I just finished the autobiography of Ozzy and I'm on hold for Steven Tyler's. Reading about rock star lives, now THAT is something worthy of my time. I will learn all about smuggling cocaine and the appropriate use of feathers in clothing. Brilliant! And no Smurfs are involved....I think...

Comments, questions, what's your game?

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