Showing posts with label brooklyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brooklyn. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Zombies!

I've read/watched enough end-of-the-world books/movies/shows to know that people with small children generally do not survive.


I blame the children.


I've got two tiny ones myself: the Juban Princeling, who is 3 1/2, and the Duke of Juban, who is four months. When - NOT IF! - the Zombiepocalypse happens, we are goners. 


And the Zombiepocalypse is going to happen. I know this because just a few blocks from my house is a cemetery next to a power plant. Do the math, people. I don't know what bureaucratic asshat allowed this zoning debacle, but I'm going to go on record this election year and say that I fully support any candidate with an anti-zombie platform. I know that's a harsh thing to say, but even we Liberals have to draw the line somewhere.


Lately I've been watching "The Walking Dead," and I have no doubt my kids and I will not survive when that power plant goes all melty and zaps those pissed off Confederate soldiers back to life. There's a reason why there are no babies or preschoolers running around with Rick & the Gang: they've all been eaten. Probably the parents, too. 




The South rises again.
(Photo from http://familyhalloweenhorror.tripod.com/id1.html)






Why People With Small Children Will Not Survive the Zombiepocalypse:


1. Children Are Slow, and They Slow You Down
Have you ever tried to go anywhere with a baby? Or a toddler? Or preschooler? Or multiple children at once? It's Sisyphean. Here's how a typical morning in our house goes on, say a random Sunday when we try to go out for breakfast:


Me: "Princeling, get your shoes on."
Princeling: "No! I don't want to go out!"
Me: "Don't you want pancakes?"
Princeling: "No! Pancakes are stupid! You're poop!"
Husband: "You can have bacon, too. And bring a toy."
Princeling: "No! I hate you! Go away!"
Duke: "Waaaaah!"
Me: "You work on getting the Princeling's shoes on while I give this one a bottle."
Princeling: "NOOOO!!!!!" *kicks off shoes*
Duke: *poops*


Forty-five minutes later we may be out the door. Or we may have given up, sent the Princeling to his room, and already be one finger into two tumblers of Scotch at 8:45 in the morning.


And it's not like we can pick the children up and run away from the zombies, either. At least, not run far, or fast, or for too long. The Princeling weighs around 35 pounds and the Duke is clocking in at a healthy 15 pounds. Even if my husband, who is strong, carried the Princeling on his back and I took the baby in the Ergo, how far could we realistically get while running for our lives? And what about supplies? 


As my friend Cali, whose two daughters are the same ages as my sons, explained the other day: "My step-father told me about this ridiculous compound he has in Tennessee and said if anything happens we should make our way there, and we'll be fine. But it takes me two hours just to get out the door to walk across Park Slope. How the hell am I supposed to make it all the way to Tennessee in an emergency?"


Me: "You know, those of us with small children are going to be the first to go in any kind of apocalyptic event. Like zombies."


Cali: "Well, we all have to go sometime. When you number's up, your number's up."




2. Children Cannot Sit Still. Or Be Quiet.
As anyone who has ever left their home, ever, can tell you: children are loud and they run around a lot. 


Even my kids, who are relatively well-behaved, have only so much quiet and stillness inside them. If we have to hide from zombies there is no way I can make the Princeling stay silent long enough to let a herd pass us by. Like most kids his age, the Princeling enjoys doing the opposite of what we say. If we said, "Princeling! You MUST be silent and NOT MOVE until we say so, or else zombies will eat us alive!" He will shout "NO!" and run away just to prove we're not the boss of him. 


And forget the Duke. He's just a baby. Babies are cute, but they are also kind of dumb and lack any sense of self-preservation. If he can't even figure out not to roll off the changing table, there is just no way he's going to survive a zombie attack.




3. Children Are Delicious. SO I'VE BEEN TOLD.
At least twice that I can remember, "True Blood" - which is nothing if not realistic - has referenced how delicious little kids are. There was that one time Eric and Pam babysat for Arlene's kids, and commented about how much they wished they could eat them; and in a recent episode a guy had been thrown into Authority prison for eating newborns.


And at least once in "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer" a reference is made to finding a nice, tasty toddler for Spike.


Now, zombies aren't the most practical of creatures, but even zombies have to have enough of a sense of smell to be able to pick out a succulent baby over, say, a stringy old person who reeks of hemorrhoid ointment and denture cream.


And no, that was not a suggestion to slather your children in hemorrhoid ointment and denture cream. 






How about you all? What are your strategies for the imminent zombiepocalypse? Besides grabbing your neighbors' babies and throwing them at the zombie masses while you make your escape YOU SICK PUPPIES.

Friday, June 15, 2012

An Open Letter To: The New Tenants

Dear New Tenants in Our Old Apartment:


I know you intercepted both a package and a card meant for our new baby. I don't know why you chose to keep both these things, despite my note on your door with my phone number and email address so I could come pick them up. 


I also know you cashed the $200 check my aunt included in the card meant for the baby. That takes a lot of balls, New Tenants. Unless you coincidentally have the exact same name as my youngest child - which is highly unlikely - I have no idea why or how your bank went ahead and deposited $200 into your account. I can only hope someone there catches this oversight at some point and fines you $200.


Here's what else I hope for you:


I hope every time you get in line at the supermarket, the person ahead of you pays in pennies.


I hope every time you try to have a picnic in the park, a sudden thunderstorm breaks.


I hope you get an infestation of mosquitoes this summer. (I used to live there. It's entirely possible.)


I hope you develop chronic ingrown toenails.


I hope every time you place a food order it gets delivered to you missing one item.


I hope your laptop, portable DVD player, smart phone, iPad, e-reader, or other personal entertainment device dies five minutes into a long flight.


I hope you never get a table at Al Di La.


I hope you never get a cab in the rain.


I hope your DVR always cuts off your favorite shows 2 minutes before the ending.


And mostly, I hope that someone does this to you some day, so you'll know how it feels when people try to celebrate something special with you, but accidentally send gifts to your old address, and the people there keep your stuff instead of calling or emailing you to come get them.


Jerks.


Most sincerely,
The Previous Tenant