Showing posts with label babysitters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babysitters. Show all posts

6.1.11

The Sitter II: A Retrospective Freudian Analysis w/Burned Baloney


Nothing prepares you for what you're going to be like as a parent. People drone on and on about how you'll probably be like your parents, but that's too simplistic and takes into account NONE of the vast, profligate heaps of Freudian baggage you've been amassing across the eons. Case in point: what Da-da calls, "babysitter fear." Few things peg Da-da's Sphinct-O-meter like leaving his children with total strangers. (This fear used to be worse before Da-da completed Bronko and Nagurski's extensive ninja training.)

This anxiety goes wa-ay back to the time Young Master Da-da was babysat one late spring night by Archetypal Teen Babysitter, LINDA, a 16YO neighborhood girl, when Da-da was six. Linda, you know who you are. Da-da should note before we begin that he has what's called an eidetic memory: that is, HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING... well, until he had kids. Now, HE REMEMBERS NOTHING. Except dumb things that occurred when he was six. Great.

Anyway, Young Master Da-da was not fooled by babysitter LINDA's faux doves-and-bunnies act before mom and dad. And Da-da about came unglued when she tried to put him to bed at 6:00 (interrupting, "Forbidden Planet," which fully activated Da-da's REVENGE circuitry). Prior to this insult, LINDA had made "dinner" for her charge: what she called, "Mexican hats," that is, broiled baloney (BROILED BALONEY?) covered in yellow mustard (what wine would you serve with broiled baloney covered in yellow mustard? VIOGNIER? White zinfandel?)... where was i? Oh, yeah, BROILED BALONEY, krikey, which said babysitter forgot about while yakking on the phone with her long-hair boyfriend, filling the house with acrid, BURNED BALONEY SMOKE. (Da-da can still smell it.) Later, she foolishly assumed Young Master Da-da was asleep (at 7:00?) and snuck out to meet her boyfriend down the street, LEAVING YOUNG MASTER DA-DA HOME ALONE in a house filled with poison, broken glass, dynamite, and toxic burned baloney fumes. Nice.

To make matters worse, this dim bulb failed to notice a six-year-old white ninja -- in glowing white ROY ROGERS PAJAMAS -- tracking her down the street as she schlepped to the water treatment plant around the corner. Why was she going there? Young Master Da-da wondered... Ah.

The water treatment plant had a lush, broad green lawn that the teens used as their May Pole rendezvous field of dreams. The field itself was already packed with teens humping in the moonlight; there must've been twenty couples coupling in early '70s, pre-Burning Man abandon. Linda arrived, found "STEVEN," stripped off all her clothes (seriously), took possession of a very large bong, and boarded the illicit sex train with all the other assembled hippie teens. Young Da-da watched for only a moment. Ok, maybe two moments...

He then went home, found the phone number left on the kitchen counter, and called mom and dad. Once the cavalry arrived, Young Master Da-da walked his parents to the water treatment plant's lawn, toting a police flashlight, and showcased LINDA in full glory. Needless to say, Young Master Da-da pocketed Linda's $20 that night. (And Young Master Da-da watched himself from then on; indeed, Da-da was given a key to the house and was officially a "latch key kid" after that.)

So, it doesn't take Fellini to figure out why Da-da sweats every time he leaves his children alone with little miss perfect (or does it?). Da-da can just HEAR the Freudian archetypes building in their subconsciousnesses. Or maybe that's gas. Either way, it's frightening.

EPILOGUE

It should come as no surprise that Young Master Da-da's parents were bankers and staunch Republicans (it's actually 10 million times more complicated than that, but Da-da will save that for later), and that 6YO Da-da himself was a miniature goddamn Nixon. He's since regained his sanity, going from Republican, to Independent, to Libertarian, to Democrat, to Silly Party... but it took a while.

Da-da has since performed an intensive Freudian analysis of the entire above event. It's not too tough to figure out. Basically, Young Master Da-da had a crush on LINDA -- who was HOT -- but she snubbed him for "STEVEN" (some long-haired geek who would later direct, "JAWS," what a loser). Additionally, she burned Young Da-da's "BALONEY" (do I have to spell that out for you?), turned off, "FORBIDDEN PLANET," then went and humped the hippie, "STEVEN." Oh, the salamis and handrails.

Despite the fact that it's irresponsible and dangerous to leave a child unattended, for the record, LINDA snubbed a highly accomplished and attractive 6YO who not only had his own car, BUT TWENTY OF THEM. Sure, they were only matchbox cars, but Da-da could do a lot with a little... and we're going to deep-six Freud on that one and move on with our lives, already in progress, while Da-da goes out to buy some sausages and a monster truck.


14.9.10

The Sitter [spooky music UP]


Yes, it's almost Halloween, so it's time for some FEAR, yay. Ready?

To any real parent (as opposed to all those fake ones), leaving your children with strangers pretty much pegs the Sphinctometer. Indeed, choosing the right babysitter is tricky, esp. as Mr. Mom, which somehow carries a greater level of anxiety than for Actual Mom, who can somehow sniff these things out like some kind of Alpha animal (in a good way, honey), but Da-da has his own standards and he's gonna stick to 'em. Da-da means, when he goes to the door to let in that latest highly recommended $20/hr. sitter and she's wearing a freaking bunny mask and standing there staring at Da-da and breathing heavily... well, Da-da's mind conjured this:


Um, hello? Wearing a bunny mask, however cute and endearing, is right up there with showing up for a job interview wearing a white-painted William Shatner mask and bloodstained coveralls... which might explain why Da-da's unemployed, hmm. Da-da thought it was just the clown makeup. Anyway, it's safe to say that Da-da and company ate IN that night. Sure, our family wears masks almost constantly, but OURS aren't creepy, jeez.


[NOTE: John Carpenter's, "HALLOWEEN," was so scary because THE SHAPE (as he was known in the script) is wearing a William Shatner mask painted white; the prop guy couldn't find any scary masks -- the only one he could find was the Shat -- so John Carpenter said, "Paint it white." That's why the film works: IT'S AN EMOTIONLESS WILLIAM SHATNER KILLING PEOPLE. You never saw The Shat this way because he was consistently overacting, which explains the movie's puzzling fright -- and why the pathetic remake was... well, pathetic. Overactingly speaking, you might overact, too, if you were humping giant rabbits one moment, waxing white commanche the next.]

[NOTE2: If you wanna see something reeeeaaallly scary, try THE SITTER II. Mmmm, burned baloney.]
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