WE CAN REBUILD HER….WE HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY

Alright so we’ve all seen interviews with the crazy octuplet mom and as a country we should be OUTRAGED. Her decisions were reckless and the outcome hideous. But we cannot place the blame on her alone, she is only part of the problem. I think her doctor should absolutely be prosecuted for what he has done to her and the implications it has on society. I am of course talking about her plastic surgeon. I mean, someone should have the moral obligation to be the voice of reason to a crazy person and say ‘enough is enough—you’ve had enough plastic surgery already, you fish-lipped freak!’ But no. Apparently she’s allowed to make her own disfiguring choices and we all have to be punished by looking at her. After watching her Anne Curry interview I had nightmares that she was going to suck me through the TV.

I see lots of plastic surgery gone bad and it scares the poo out of me. Because secretly I wish I could have all kinds of plastic surgery. Tons. All of it. Everything sounds appealing—lift this, tuck that, suck those, implant these—wonderful! How completely amazing that they can just fix all the physical things you hate about yourself. I’d be like the Bionic Woman, completely pieced back together to state-of-the-art, tank-top and belly-shirt wearing perfection! Except for that lame hearing thing of hers. They gave that poor woman BIONIC HEARING. Now what mom in the world is wishing for that? You could tell that show was written by a man, because every mother in America wakes up at the first sneeze from her child’s room upstairs and down the hall, and answers to “Mom!” from anywhere in the grocery store. The last thing we need is enhanced eardrums. The Six Million Dollar Man could leap buildings and tear open iron doors, and the lucky Bionic Woman could hear her husband pass gas from three miles away.

But whatever, I still want them to redo me, but without the super hearing—I want a bionic ASS. Blam! Like the one they gave Beyoncé (who is an android, I saw it on the Discovery Channel). Bounce a quarter off my new titanium tushie! Watch it gyrate at inhuman speeds! It will look so great with my new nose, strong chin, liposuctioned arms, calf implants, love-handlectomy, facelift, breast implants, tatooed eyeliner, dermabrasion, and hair weave. And yet, here’s the rub: have you ever seen that crazy catwoman, who had so much plastic surgery that Michael Jackson points at her and says “What the hell?”. Well, she obviously had a little taste of it and then couldn’t stop. “Trim a little more, Doctor. Inject a little more. Pull a little tighter. I’m looking so great, don’t stop now!” Yikes. So that’s why I still look like me. Because I’m way too scared to look like HER. Now of course, she’s a loon and thinks she looks fab-o. But take Meg Ryan. She was the cutest girl in the country for a period of time and now she looks like she tried to swallow a lifeboat and someone pulled the inflate cord. Eeeew. I can’t even see her movies anymore, they all look 3-D, those big lips coming at me. Can you imagine how sad she is to have messed herself up so bad.

Now precisely 50% of you are thinking what you’d like to have surgically altered for yourselves or how you’ve already had it done. (By the way, all you girls out there with the fake boobs, please stop trying to make the rest of us feel how natural they are. It’s super creepy). The other 50% of you are being all judgey about how plastic surgery is wrong and can’t we just all learn to love ourselves the way we are because society has given us an impossible ideal to live up to and no woman looks like that and just embrace your inner beauty and buy Dove soap yada yada yada. Most women are haters about plastic surgery and here’s why: Cause it’s the steroids of beauty. Plastic surgery gives you an unfair edge in the ‘being hotter than your neighbor’ game. If nobody had it done, then no one else would feel like they NEED to have it done. We could all just grow old and soft and saggy together. But noooo, you surgery girls keep raising the bar (and your breasts and cheekbones) so everyone else has to sit home making our husbands tell us how big, round, perky breasts are just NOT attractive to them in the least and would just get in the way of cuddling.

But like I said, I have to straddle the two opposing camps, because I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to stop once I started or that I would pay 10 grand and have some guy mess me up worse than before. So I’m not a hater for the plastic surgery team, I just think it’s easy to go too far. But one thing I LOATHE is when people say stupid things like “Oh, I had the surgery just for ME not for anyone else.” What? Shut up, no you didn’t. If you lived by yourself in the mountains you would never once think “Dang I wish I had bigger boobs.” Stranded alone on an island? I guarantee you’d never say “Boy, if only I could get rid of these crows feet.” Doesn’t happen. You’re doing it for how everyone else will look at you, so just freaking own it and be happy. If we each lived alone we would be blissfully ignorant of our lumps and wrinkles, never get out of pajama pants or even pass a reflective surface. I especially hate when people make UP reasons for the plastic surgery—like they were totally fine with themselves and would never dream of changing anything, but since the doctor was already in there removing an ingrown toenail, he just went ahead and sucked out 25 pounds of goo and injected it into my lips. Like it was on his way or something. Own it, people!

So for now, here I am 'au naturalle', eating another ding dong and dreaming of the day they make a topical liposuction cream. I have to go to an appointment tomorrow to have someone check out a suspicious mole. “Hey doc, while you’re already in there….you think you can make me a C cup?”

DID DR. SEUSS JUST GET ALL UP IN MY POLITICAL BIDNESS?

Family movie night happened to us again. If you’re not familiar with Family Movie Night in your own home, this is a tradition that has grown in the Schlegel household over a period of years. It’s sort of like regular ole Kid Movie Night, except much more rigid and ritualistic. During ‘kid movie night’ all I have to do is push Play on the DVD and go about my business. But Family Movie Night has strict guidelines and concessions. For one thing, it requires the use of the old timey air-popping pop corn machine, because apparently the fast and convenient microwave kind of popcorn is not nearly as satisfying on such an occasion. And only on FMN is this manna from heaven served in the big, authentic red and white striped cups labeled “Popcorn,” and get to be eaten in the living room. Also a symbolic treat.

Other rules dictate that Erich and I must be completely present both physically and mentally, no Facebooking or laundry folding allowed. Even my 3-year old is hyper-vigilant on this point: “You no phone Mama! You missin’ da movie!” Seating shouldn’t be a problem for us, seeing as how we bought those Lazy Boy sofas where all the seats recline for just such nights. 5 recliners! 5 people! It’s perfect. However, no seat in the house is as appealing as where Erich or I am sitting. Three children, two laps—you do the math. So here we are, five family members, two seats, 6 blankets, 20 pillows. Which sounds cuddly except that each of my children are scrawny and pointy and it’s much like snuggling a bag of elbows. But we hunker down, resembling victims of a natural disaster huddling together for warmth (although the house is a toasty 78 degrees) and we get to watching.

Which brings us to the most precarious element of FMN—the movie selection. Now we can’t see anything that we own or the children saw in the theater, because my son has a photographic memory and is incapable of re-watching without giving you the play-by-play. “Okay, now watch this, you’re gonna think this is SO funny… wait for it…here it comes, he’s gonna pop out and….now wait…here he comes any minute, it’s so great…” I stare him down, annoyed, and he looks at me incredulous, “Mom! What are you looking at ME for, you’re gonna miss the funny--- oh, there it was. Now we gotta rewind it!” So in order to avoid killing him, it has to be a fresh movie every time. Tonight’s selection: Horton Hears a Who.

So I am watching the very cute tale of an elephant who hears a tiny speck on his flower and vows to protect it, although no one else believes there is a person in there. “A person is a person, no matter how small!” claims Horton. And then it hit me, “Did Dr. Seuss just slip an anti-abortion message into my children’s movie?” I keep watching. The mayor of Whoville has 98 kids. No condoms in Whoville, that’s for sure. (At least he has a wife and a job and none of the babies are in ICU on the taxpayers’ dollar. But that’s for another blog.) And all the jungle animals are attacking Horton the Elephant (which cannot just be a coincidental use of the Republican conservative symbol), insisting that he admit “If you can’t see it, hear it or feel it, then it’s NOT real!” Now you do not have go to church every Sunday to recognize that as a blatant faith message. So the unrelenting animal mob ties Horton down until his knees buckle and they are about to boil the speck. And it is not until someone finally listens closely to hear the tiniest Who voice, that the beloved speck is saved. Whew! I looked around to see if the full impact of the message has reached the rest of my family. They were still munching popcorn.

Now I’m not remotely trying to make a stand one way or another on abortion. I’m just saying Theodor Geisel IS. And this is not the first time his work has had political implications. I remember seeing the animated version of ‘The Lorax’ for the first time and not being able to sleep for three days because of what we were doing to our planet and chopping down all our Truffala trees (I still think this is a good message, but I’m sure there’s some lumber executives that don’t want their kids reading it). But he’s not the only author trying to mold our children’s brains through seemingly innocent stories. Take The Rainbow Fish, or as I like to call it “The Aquatic Communist Manifesto.” So in this asinine tale, the beautiful rainbow fish has all these shiny scales that he’s super proud of. And this other little fish comes over and says “Hey, can I have one of your scales?” and the Rainbow fish is like “What, are you freaking kidding me? Just give you one? No way.” So the other fish leaves and pretty soon everyone hates the Rainbow Fish. Until he gives away all of his scales and then everyone likes him because they all have the same amount (basically nothing). WHAAAAAAT???

I remember reading this for the first time to my oldest child when he was about 3 months old. I dropped the thing like I’d just realized the cover was made of asbestos. Then I frantically sang a rendition of “Baby Got Back” so he wouldn’t notice the program interruption while I pushed the offensive propaganda out of the nursery with my foot. Generosity and sharing is a fabulous message, but teaching kids that if you have something someone else wants you’ve got to give it to them or that makes you bad is wrong. And if someone has something you want, just whine and punish them until they give it to you. You deserve it-- they have more than you! I think this country has printed too many copies of The Rainbow Fish.

I guess my point is, there are powerful messages coming from all over the place, even when you least expect them during Family Movie Night. It’s not just popcorn going into those little bodies. I, of course, would never do something so political as an author. So please be on the lookout for my two newest childrens’ titles: “Benny the Dinosaur Gets Bounced on His Ass for Buying a Cave He Knew Was Too Expensive,” and “Pedophile Puppy gets Mandatory Neutering.”

Family Christmas Newsletter 2008

Family sues Facebook over Missing Mother

WASHINGTON, DC— Federal courts are abuzz over the first ever case of it’s kind— a family filing kidnap charges for a woman who isn’t actually gone.

“You see,” said the family’s attorney, “Mrs. Schlegel spends so much time on this alleged internet ‘networking’ site, that it’s as if she has been abducted. We want Facebook to pay for its mesmerizing powers that hold the woman hostage at her computer all day. This family has been victimized!”

“The laundry is piling up,” whined the woman’s son. “And we haven’t had dinner in a month.”
Mrs. Schlegel last communicated with her family when she posted a photo of dinner for them to enjoy and sent them two pieces of holiday flair.

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Man attempts to perform his own surgery

DALLAS TX, — Medical professionals are outraged over a report of a man who plans to surgically repair his own knee. Erich Schlegel, who has no medical degree or background decided to attempt the risky procedure after tearing his ACL for the 3rd time while playing soccer in a league for men who are way too old for contact sports.

“Look,” said Schlegel, when asked about his controversial decision, “I’ve been through this procedure as many times as some surgeons. How hard can it be? Anyway, my wife told me that we better never have to pay for another knee surgery. I’m sure this is what she’d want.”
So what kind of man would brave this sort of uncharted territory?

“A very, very, very stupid man,”said Dr. Hans Schneidenfooten of the Mayo Clinic. “But zen again, he did keep playing soccer after zee first two surgeries, so how bright could he be?”

When called for comment, Mrs. Schlegel just muttered the word, IDIOT” and hung up the phone.

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New Guinness Record Holder

DUBLIN— Guinness records verified that Jakob Schlegel, age 8, now holds the world record for most annoying questions asked in a row.

“How deep is the Mariana’s trench?” asked the youngster. “And what’s the tallest building? How wide is the universe? How much does this house cost? What’s smaller than an electron? Why do Mommy’s need bras?”

“He sure is a curious lad!” smiled one committee leader.”But ...does it ever end?”

When asked if he ever stops, Jakob replied, “What’s the biggest thing in the world? And what’s bigger than THAT? How much does it weigh?”
When contacted for an interview, the proud parents begged, “Please! No more questions!”

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Award Show Adds New Category

HOLLYWOOD—
The Academy Awards decided this week to present a gold statuette in a never-before honored category:

“Best whining in an overly-dramatic, yet trivial situation” has been something we’ve been toying with for years, “ said Producers. But we’ve never really seen a lot of talent in this area— until we met Brooke Schlegel”

“It’s true,” said Brooke’s agent. “She can make even the smallest situation seem like life or death. I’ve never seen tears summoned so quickly,— talent like hers is breathtaking!”

When told of the award, Ms. Schlegel responded, “I wanted a PLATINUM STATUE!!!!”

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Youngster Invents Sport

MURPHY, TX– A local toddler invented a new sport, and is reportedly being courted by backers to go national with a league.

There is no doubt that the game, which is a unique blend of baseball, sumo-wrestling and full-contact golf, is entertaining to watch. However, skeptics point out the complicated, ever-changing rules, lack of accurate score-keeping and odd way that the winner often tackles his opponents when play is finished.

When asked to clarify the rules, creator Connor Schlegel simply stated, “I hit, Bam! Whew! Den wun wun fast get ball and... Yeaaaa!”
Confusion averted.