Bubb officially “crossed over” from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts last week at the annual “Blue and Gold” ceremony, or as I like to call it the “Red and Brown” ceremony… because by the end of the night, the honored scouts who are crossing into a more mature, independent phase are in fact wearing more of the spaghetti dinner and chocolate desserts than was actually consumed. Nothing says “ready to report for duty” like that of a crisp khaki uniform riddled with Ragu.
Thanks to Lucky’s photographic genius and the sheer size of the ceremonial “Arrow of Light” plaque, the evidence of Bubb’s spaghetti volcano that erupted on his shirt was miraculously disguised in the pictures. I was kind of hoping for my own “Thanks mom for putting all these badges and pins on in one day for the ceremony, only to have to take them all off and put new ones on tomorrow” plaque. Didn’t happen…
Thanks to Janet Jackson and her left breast, we now have the term “wardrobe malfunction” which over the years has evolved to describe a broad spectrum of garment related grievances, from mismatched outfits to button failures.
And who knows. There were rumors that Janet planned her little peek-a-boob. So, maybe for her it wasn’t a malfunction after all. That lady with her pantyhose tucked in her skirt: Malfunction… or shocking fashion statement? Your friend who looks like a million bucks but is embarrassed that her blue black belt clashes with her brown black purse: Fussy… or malfunction?
How’s about this one: The young, high heeled - skin tight jean wearing – midriff baring - hair flicking chick whose nose was so high in the air at Nordstrom that she didn’t even notice her fly was wide open. Or did she? That really happened by the way… and I refrained from saying anything because yes… I’m that bitter and cranky and in my mind, it was a screaming malfunction… and it was my birthday. So I considered it a gift from the gods of comedy, thank you very much.
It’s all about perception.
Lucky is on the cusp of eight-ness. Today, my little girl is a… well… slightly bigger little girl. She doesn’t seem so different than seven, or even six. She still plays with dolls, dresses up the dog, and makes fart jokes. Come to think of it, only thing that has really changed over the last few years is that she can now read and write. Pretty well I might add.
… And with that newly acquired skill, one can only imagine what one can, umm… only imagine. Lucky has concluded that changing her name is as easy as just writing a new one on a name tag. Writing is awesome! All you have to do is write it… and it shall BE. Or so she believes.
She has now proclaimed herself to be “Rose Funtly”. Yes, you heard me… THEE Rose Funtly. I know, I know…right now you are asking yourself “How on earth has this ignorant woman been living under the same roof as Rose Funtly this whole time and not even know it?” Well, I’m as shocked as you are. Lucky admitted to her alias when approached with a lanyard I unearthed from her mountains of paperwork on her desk.