Dear Amritsar,
My husband Bob is a butthead. And, I'm not talking about how the cleft on his chin, deep as it is, makes his face look like somebody's hindparts. I'm talking about the fact that he seems to think with his anus.
Like many people, our children have been stuck at home during the virus quarantine. They have been slowly driving us mad with their incessant demands for food and drink and a safe place to sleep so that the monsters in the closet won't get them - honestly, it never ends! (Personally, I think they could take the monsters in the closet - you should see the kind of fight they put up when it's bath time! - but my therapist says I am misdirecting my rage. Putz.)
Bob decided to "help" by getting gifts to distract the children. That went over about as well as a salmonella sandwich on whole wheat moldy bread!
The butthead bought an Acme rocket powered Pogo stick for little Inky Dinky Doo. The first time he used it, he launched himself into the sky and never came down. Maybe he achieved escape velocity. Maybe he got snagged on a passing passenger pigeon and ended up hitching a ride to a favela on the wrong side of the border with Canada. Maybe he's with the Angels...in Houston. I...I hope he's in a better place, wherever that place may be.
Pat was given an Acme rock costume. "Endless hours of amusement," the box promised. I sure hope so. Pat put on the costume and wandered off to the quarry at the end of the street. We haven't seen or heard from him/her in three days. At first, I gave Bob heck for that one, but, in the end, he convinced me that rocks last for thousands of years, that very little can destroy them. So, as long as nobody is looking for a granite tabletop, it's probably for the best.
The worst was Bob getting an Acme rocket launcher for our three year-old daughter, Jess. She played with it exactly once: the house of the neighbours across the street was totalled. My shrink says she's going to have to undergo intense therapy when she is older. I wish he hadn't been so...gleeful when he said that; still, it's good to know that he will have a steady enough income to be able to treat me for as long as I need.
I guess I'm just a silver lining kind of gal.
With two less children, and the third traumatized, I'm finding I have time to do all of the things I didn't before. Which are none of your business. The question is: should I be devastated that COVID-19 has destroyed my family? Or, should I be grateful?
Robina Dobalina
Hey, Babe,
I'm not supposed to judge the people who open up their hearts by writing to me, so I will just say that we are all suffering through a difficult time, and must find a way to cope as best we can.What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, honestly, was that supposed to be helpful? It sounded like something out of a fortune cookie!
Robina Dobalina
Hey, Babe,
But, then you asked a follow-up question, and my qualms about criticizing the people who submit to this column flew out the window faster than a boy's virginity on prom night!
You and Bob are terrible parents.
Never, ever, ever buy anything from Acme Corporation, especially not for children! Their products never work as advertised. It's right there in the fine print of every instruction manual: "Product will never work as advertised. Please be advised and alter your expectations accordingly. May contain monosodium glutamate." What did you expect?
Parenting requires patience and sacrifice. Rocket powered...anything is no substitute!
Send your relationship problems to the Alternate Reality News Service's sex, love and technology columnist at questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Amritsar Al-Falloudjianapour is not a trained therapist, but she does know a lot of stuff. AMRITSAR SAYS: civility is the glue that holds the ramshackle construct that is human society together. In these times when we are forced to stay in close quarters with those we love...like...tolerate (with a vengeance), civility is the only thing that keeps us from entering Lord of the Flies territory. Do not call your husband "butthead," "doofus" or "big pain in the ass." Instead, call him "Mister Butthead," "Sir Doofus of Dumbville" or "The King of Pains in the Ass."* You would be surprised at just how effective civility can be in defusing tense situations. Even civility of the aggressive kind.
* Not "The King of Pain in the Asses" unless you are a genetic experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong.