Saturday, September 18, 2010

Great. Now We're Wrecking Other People's Kids.

We recently received this email from a reader.  We were...  Well, there aren't a lot of words...  Just  the vibrating, buzzing sounds coming from our heads after reading this.  And the feeling of being inside a centrifuge and needing to read faster and faster in order to keep up with this person's whizzing, whurring brain.  This WONDERFUL person's brain.  And then we had to read it again.  And again.  And we shared the dawning apprehension that we are probably related to the author of this missive -- or, more accurately, what would happen if Kate and Lydia actually could produce Offspring. And that made us happy because she is WHUCKTASTIC and we adore her.  We're not sure she's real, but we love her.

Just read it.  We haven't changed a word.  We wouldn't know how.

xoxo K&L (and Offspring)

PS Though, for the record, we blame'll understand.
Subject line: TARGET HAS BEEN SIGHTED In which I attempt (and epically fail) to explain T boxes to my family Including my mum, who I think you should send an informational pamphlet if those still exist from the dark ages or possibly 1922

Here's the email:
Hi and waving! (You can’t see it probably unless you’re those weird people who take over webcams… and if you are, SORRY WRONG EMAIL! Now please go. No, seriously. Shoo. I mean it. I’ll set my hippo on you.)

(Sorry. You can already tell this is going to be a long one, right? I hope you have time and a T-box or six cos I am not known for my lack of verbosity. Fancy words, though? Oh even YESSER. You betcha toasted teacakes with butter I do.)

So I have a confession to make.

I am not a mother of any variety, in fact I am a 17 year old who is still LIVING with her mother (and her father and her sister, Offspring #2,) but I like the way you make me giggle so my family ask what I’ve done now and tell me to take the hairpin out of the mobile phone charger (in case you were wondering, sparks. Pretty, but it gets you yelled at.) (And it was ONE TIME, sheeze...)

I am, in fact, a menace to the human race, but don't tell anyone, ok? They're still looking for me after The Badger Incident. (which no badgers were actually harmed in the making of.)

So after that confession I'm going to tell you something else! (Sorry, I know, you have enough kids of your own telling you all about your escapades, (and theirs as well) but I'll try to keep it quick.) (Key word in that sentence is TRY and I mean it like a hippo means to lose weight.)

So we went to Australia (I should mention here, I'm not American. Not even a little bit American. I don't even have a clue what Thanksgiving is about apart from it's nice to be thankful for stuff and it may involve hats.

I am from Ingerland on the other side of the pond WATCH OUT FOR GIANT DUCKS, why do you think no one sails that any more?) which was fun apart from the flight, but when we got there we discovered two, no wait, three things.

1) Melbourne can be COLD
2) I hadn't brought a coat
C) My mum can say I told you so in many different ways.

So we're walking down the street in the freezing cold listening to "You are 17 years old you should be able to dress yourself etc etc" from my lovely mum (no, really, she is) When I spot a shop that I've always been sure I should be kinda familiar with, if only because I like to be familiar with the awesome in the world.

As if drawn by some magnet that makes mums enter, mine looked this place up and down and turns to us.

"We will look in here for a coat for Offspring #1." (Implicit: because she is apparently incompetent) (What? It's true! I AM! I got lost on the way to the SHOWER this morning. And I walked into several walls. I don't live in a labyrinth or anything either.) (You can't deny. That. Would. Be. Awesome.)

The shop was Target.

We do not have Target in Ingerland. We have Tesco’s and WH Smith, but we do NOT have Target.

So as we're in there perusing the coat selection, as if it were (was? Were.) some kind of rare and unidentified chipmunk and I blurt out, much to the consternation of everyone in a three mile radius "They have wine in a box!"

Blank stares.

"Here! Wine! IN A BOX!"

More blank stares, a hint of If-I-catch-you-drinking-any-kind-of-alcoholic-beverage-I-will-not-care-how-it-is-packaged.


So they're all staring at me, parents, aunt, uncle, cousins, sister, with that look they sometimes get when I've done something terminally stupid like muddle soap and cheese (SURPRISINGLY SIMILAR) or attempt to put away things and somehow manage to put the phone in the fridge and the milk in the microwave. It's the look that says ' is Offspring #2 fine when Offspring #1 is so.... um....'

It's a good look! People wear it well, it's all the rage this season. Especially accompanied with red and a small dog. Or I guess you could put a big dog in a vacuum bag, or summat. I mean, you'd have to poke it's head out one end, so it might get this weird GIANT HEAD effect, but if you're going to follow fashion...

AND THEN we get to the till and find my new awesome bright red (I have the sense of direction of that moose who travelled three hundred miles following a mating call and found it was a foghorn (I was all, been there, love. Been there.)(See above re: lost on way to shower) wandering off tendencies of a small child in the best mash up of toy/sweetshop EVER.) coat it half price! YAY!

So then I went and managed to put chocolate all down it, but yayness!

SO! For some reason the same bit in my brain that likes gerbils decided it would be good to let you guys know that you have A) been keeping me out of trouble by instead keeping me rolling all over my bedroom floor all summer and B) been inducted into the Hall Of Fame in my head -- where all the people who have confirmed to my parents that they have one daughter who should NOT be let out in the world yet, or ever, go! I'm there lots! So are manatees and kangaroos and whoever wrote...well, everything. You're in good company! And if you get hungry there are marshmallows.

AND ALSO! LYDIA! HI! I went into New Look on Saturday, and I don't know if you have them in America, but they are renowned for having Shoes It Is Impossible To Walk In (this says NOTHING about them for me, I mean shoes the rest of the female population can't walk in, I can't walk across a flat surface in bare feet!) and cool clothes, and they had a whole display of clogs. I think you're setting a trend! I don't mean one or two pairs. I mean A WHOLE DISPLAY. OF CLOGS. And in case you don't believe me, here is a LINK.

It's a little like you two have taken over the shoe department.

Um, actually HAVE you?

ANYWAY, sorry, and I hope your house is still intact. Maude only knows if I were your kids it probably wouldn't be. Not just because of experiments, because I'm generally clumsy to that kind of degree.

Love and Hugs,
Offspring #1

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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