For Those About to Rock, There Are Better Bands to Listen To

The boy was up at the crack of wow this morning, getting ready for school, which was a treat, because he was all about the business of focusing and dressing and making the bed and getting the teeth scrubbed up with a heavy dose of Crest.  All without being reminded that, Yes!  Yes, he should put the Legos away and put some jeans on and maybe consider some shoes.

Usually, getting ready for school involves him programming the iPod in his bedroom to repeat Weird Al’s Yoda song, or Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal, until I’m so disoriented by the noise and the repetition and the awfulness of it all, I want to pull my fingernails off with tweezers just to transfer the pain in my ears to something more tangible that I can deal with.

I feel like the Grinch, as I cry out, “Noise!   Noise!  Noise!”

This morning, though, the boy completely bypassed Al and Mike, and he went straight for the death trap.


And really?  The only direction that my day could go from there was up, as Angus was shredding a guitar into splintered dust in the background while Brian Johnson wailed across our house about how he was going to salute me, if I was about to rock.

(Brian Johnson?  Or Bon Scott?  I don’t even know which one of them sang that song while Angus rolled around on the floor behind him, beating his guitar to death.)

(Also?  Ask me if I care.)

(I actually consider it nothing short of a genuine amazement that I can even regurgitate those three names for you, because of the small fact that AC/DC was a one-hit wonder, as far as I’m concerned.  It’s not like they sang anything magnificent, like Jesse’s Girl.)

Hubs was up early, too, with the concert blasting from the iPod and announced, “Man!  This is like the perfect beginning to a perfect day!”

It turns out, the morning’s playlist was actually one of my day’s high points.  Oh, people.  It has been A DAY!

I had a kindergartner do a face-plant onto my gym floor from a scooter ride in PE, and he not only split his lip wide open, he also knocked one of his UNLOOSE front teeth out.  In retrospect, though, I think it all turned out well, because after we’d cleaned up the blood (OH MY WORD!  SO MUCH BLOOD!) and realized that he was going to survive, he looked at me and shouted, “THE TOOTH FAIRY IS FINALLY GOING TO COME TO MY HOUSE!!!!”

(And yes, he put that many exclamation points behind it, because of HAPPY!  Happy, even with a split lip, because the fairy was a-comin’.)

And then!  The washing machine kept making these horrific chugging noises today, like it was a freight train about to sprout wings and exit the runway, and I knew (JUST! KNEW!) that this was it!  That our tax return would be spent on a brand new Kenmore, when in fact that is ABSOLUTELY NOT what I wanted to spend our tax return on this year, because our backyard looks like a run-down pit of a place where a couple might park an old rusted-out Winnebago and call it home, and I am craving some landscaping cash.

I was about to call Hubs and say, “So.  The washing machine is giving up the ghost, as we speak, and PLEASE DO SOMETHING, HUBS, SO THAT I DO NOT HAVE TO SPEND MY WEEKENDS IN THE LAUNDROMAT, AND SO THAT I DO NOT HAVE TO SHELL OUT HARD-EARNED, BACKED-WITH-GOLD, AMERICAN DOLLARS FOR A NEW ONE,” when, all of a sudden, the chugging and the shaking and the tick-tick-tick-ticking sound that made me want to yell, “BOMB!!” and evacuate the premises stopped.

And the washing machine resumed it’s normal pace, like nothing had happened, and I think we can just go on about our business and not even mention this to Hubs, who will ask me, “Did you try rebooting it?”

IT guys think they’re so funny with that line.

And also?  Speaking of IT guys?  Hubs and I watched The Social Network a couple of evenings ago, because my darling friend Heather recommended it, and low!  Two things immediately came to my mind.

1.  Hubs could have single-handedly invented Facebook.  He can write computer code like that, he can hack any computer in existence, and he actually understands the concept of algorithms, when all I can do is SPELL the word, and now I’m just really disappointed that it wasn’t him who invented Facebook, regardless of the small fact that I hardly ever even use the social networking site and go days before I even remember that I actually possess a  Facebook account.   I think it’s safe to say that if Hubs’ name was associated with the invention of Facebook, my backyard would look a whole lot different than it does now, and there would be a water feature and maybe even a pool.  Or six. And if the washing machine made a funny noise, I’d be all, “Listen!  Handyman!  Run yourself down to Home Depot and get me something from the front-loading section.  Something dubbed High Efficiency.  And I like the cherry-red washers!  And here’s $2 million for your day’s pay!”

2.  There is no way that I am sending the boy to college, because wow! The extracurricular activities were eye-opening in a whole new light, because I AM A PARENT NOW!  So when the boy graduates from high school, we’ll all just keep our fingers crossed that his heart is still set on owning a pawn shop, because of MUCH SAFER, and because it’s not every day that someone yells out, “Beer bong!” when they open the pawn shop’s front doors.

Either that, or the boy could become a rock star, because if AC/DC can do it, anyone can do it.  All you need is someone hopped up on a double dose of Mucinex D to play the guitar and someone else to wail and shout and scream unrecognizable lyrics into the microphone, and presto!

Your band will be on the front side of everyone’s concert T-shirts, and your songs will be played during intermissions at every NHL game.

And that, people, is absolutely all that I have tonight, because of WRITER’S BLOCK, which prevents anything noteworthy and meaningful making it onto the computer screen this evening.

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