Suburgatory

by Linda Keenan

  “You know, the parents could take turns monitoring him every minute he’s with the girls,” said Natola. “Let’s face it. The guy’s a douche. But he’s got a gift. One of those we’ll-never-see-the-likes-of-him-again-once-in-a-­generation kind of gift. To throw that all away, jeez, I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  Dad Loves Carving Ducks, Parenthood

  Suburgatory, USA—A local dad says parenthood “is the best thing that ever happened to him,” as he made his way to his basement shop to spend the evening carving ducks.

  “Hi, kids!” Steve Anthony patted five-year-old Parker and three-year-old David as they watched the PBS show Arthur.

  Once in Anthony’s shop, this reporter saw twenty or so carved ducks in various states of completion.

  Anthony said this about his role as a dad. “I never thought that I could have this much love, this much patience for my kids.”

  He fired up his Dremel Multi-Max power drill, which, Anthony says, is when the kids usually come down to say hello. Sitting at his table with the Dremel motor whirring and his kids standing silently at the door, Anthony yelled over the sound of the power tool: “I love that I’m able to share this beloved hobby with my children and that they’ll be able to share it with their children.”

  The kids then returned to Curious George and turned up the volume due to the noise of the Dremel. “Mallards, buffleheads, egrets, you name it… .” Anthony said, as his wife arrived in the shop with his dinner, which he takes nightly during carving. “The kids know all the ducks’ names by now, what kind of feathers they have, what makes them distinct from one another. I’m so lucky to have them and the kids.”

  Several hours later, Anthony had completed a mallard. “The boys are just such a dream. Every moment with them is just a new way to see the world, through their eyes.” The boys arrived at the shop to say goodnight to their father. “Goodnight, boys! I love you!”

  Parker said, “I love you, too, Dad.” David said, “Bufflehead Bufflehead Bufflehead!”

  “Aren’t they just little miracles?” Anthony said, smoothing his hand over several of his finished ducks.

  SHOUT OUT

  Let’s Do that Key Party Right the Next Time

  David Dowd is a polyamorous swinger who lives on Larrabie Street, the house with the purple door.

  To say I was disappointed about the conduct at and disintegration of my long anticipated key party last Saturday night would be a colossal understatement. This is not a “hobby” for me, or a one-time lark. So I take to the Shout Out in hopes of making sure the next key party is done right.

  Some ground rules:

  First, just because I am overweight, a bit hairy, and missing that one tooth (which I’m getting replaced, by the way), you cannot put the key you chose back in the bowl hoping to draw someone else. Number one, you really hurt my dignity. Number two, you denied yourself a banging the likes of which would erase every sexual experience you’ve ever had. Your loss. But if you don’t want to lose out again, take my words seriously.

  Second, my parties are not for bored moms who watch Cougar Town or Desperate Housewives and want to do something naughty. Or say they did something naughty at the PTO meeting. Because when they actually get to my home, even when dressed like the tackiest forty-year-old prostitutes I’ve ever seen, they are not willing to get down to action at all. This violates the spirit of swinging. I don’t care that you’re hot. If you’re not going to let me or another of your neighbors give it to you, and give it to you hard, you could be Angelina Fucking Jolie herself and I’d still kick you out of my house.

  Third, it’s a party for swingers, not exhibitionists. To that couple who just came in to fuck in front of us, we say, take your sick pathology elsewhere! You need to hand your partner over to a complete stranger for sex, and she will do the same with you. That’s swinging with integrity.

  Fourth, we don’t have daycare for your kids. Please, get a goddamn babysitter. There’s only so long we can stick kids upstairs to watch Fanboy and Chum Chum. Now this party was a big bust, but most parties are not and they are quite loud. You want your kids to hear that, dirty bastards?

  Now, I’m left with shattered expectations and more Fritos and leftover seven-layer dip than I would ever eat in my life. So next time, please, come committed, come with condoms, or don’t come at all.

  Purchased Breast Milk

  Tainted by McDonald’s

  Suburgatory, USA—Breastfeeding activists are up in arms after one working mother purchased breast milk later found to be contaminated by McDonald’s.

  The mother, Tinsley Maher, corporate lawyer for Proskauer Rose, purchased what she called “premium” milk at four dollars per ounce, after her own milk supply dried up. “Good God, I wasn’t going to give Maeve formula. I work eighty hours a week. I couldn’t pump. So I found some on ThanksfortheMammaries.com. And then this happens.”

  Maher felt like her daughter “just wasn’t her unique, singular self when I was reading a bedtime story to her one night on Skype. Maeve’s essence just wasn’t there.” She suspected the breast milk might be to blame and had the Board of Health test the samples in her freezer. The Board subsequently found traces of the Angus Beef Third Pounder, Sausage Biscuit, and, most troubling to Maher, the McRib. “McRib. Nanny Elvie has been giving my baby girl liquid McRib. In a bottle.”

  Maher is particularly troubled because the source of the milk came from within the well-known local breastfeeding collective and progressive social group called the Titty Tribe.

  “I mean, if this came from a disadvantaged person, someone for whom McDonald’s is part of their culture, what their people do, well, then I would understand. Even if maybe she was a poor single mother or something, and was desperate for money and sold her milk. I understand that deep socioeconomic disparities can drive people to do sickening, crazy things, like eat McDonald’s,” Maher said. She noted that she was a sociology major at Smith and had read Nickel & Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich on the flight to a client meeting. “Proskauer Rose has a great program every year where we paint festive murals [in poor urban neighborhoods] and clean up their filthy playgrounds,” Maher said.

  “But this was ‘premium milk’! The mom is part of the Titty Tribe, for Chrissake! She eats at McDonald’s, and then sells her revolting, corporate, pesticide and growth hormone–filled milk to me?” Authorities say they would prosecute if they could, but there are no laws on the books that pertain to McDonald’s-tainted breast milk. “There will be soon enough,” said Maher. “I didn’t go to Harvard Law School for nothing.”

  The mother who sold the milk refused to give her name. She has weaned her own child but is still lactating and thought she was, in her words, “paying it forward by selling my precious mothers’ milk.” She says in her defense that she does not normally eat at McDonald’s, but that pumping breast milk makes her “lose her mind” and “eat like an animal.” “I only went through the drive-thru a few times,” she said. “I never thought it would show up in a test. I just hope I didn’t do Maeve any lasting damage. I’ll never do it again.”

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  Mom of Eight Amazingly Taut,

  Except for Vagina

  Suburgatory, USA—An energetic mother of eight is a local legend at her fitness club for her “amazingly taut” body, but she has revealed exclusively to this reporter that her vagina is not included in this characterization.

  “Oh no no, are you kidding? God has allowed me to birth eight beautiful babies the way He intended! I have to wear a cup to keep that thing from flip-flapping around at the gym!”

  Laurie Bishop is well-known in the community for being pregnant for much of the last fourteen years, during which she has maintained her lithe body until the very end of the last trimester. She is also known as an active member of the Junior League, a resident of the exclusive Westgate community, and an avid churchgoer who abstains from alcohol.

  “We’ve been so blessed, so blessed. God sent Sofia, Fernando and Paco, Sylvia, and Oksana to us,” Bishop said, referring to the household staff. “And Beeta. Ugh I always forget Beeta. Well, whatever, they are my superstars. I could never manage Team Bishop without them!”

  Does her husband mind the slackness of her vagina? “My husband? You mean that useless piece of skin attached to my credit card? Ha! No, I shouldn’t say that. Bryan is the leader of our family and our relationship comes before everything, including the kids, like the Bible says it should blah blah blah. I just let him do his business and it may take a little longer but hey I can always go over the kids’ day plans in my head so it’s no big deal at all, really! An hour and he’s done. And then, if God thinks it’s right, we get another precious baby.”

  Bishop could afford vaginal reconstructive surgery, and indeed has received enhancements to her face and breasts. But she has no interest in vaginoplasty because she views her gaping birth canal as her “gift to God,” and also because her husband doesn’t complain. “Complain? Bryan? You’re confusing him with a guy who has balls.”

  While at the pharmacy, Bishop said, “And anyway, this is what my Lord God Jesus Christ put me on Earth for. Oh yes, I’m picking up for Bishop? Yes “Klon-o-pin.” The stuff that knocks you out?” With that, Bishop muttered “fucking morons” before brightening. “No, I don’t have any questions, thanks. God loves my vagina for what it’s done, its joyous bounty. Would I like the flubbering and the occasional whistle to stop? Of course I would. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. But other than that, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Four-Year-Old Gets

  Perez Hilton as “Manny”

  Suburgatory, USA—An old-school couple unwittingly hired celebrity blogger Perez Hilton as a “manny” for their four-year-old son, who in turn schooled them all in his special brand of queeny humor.

  “Well, we know him as Mario. I just thought Mario had a lot of energy and fun hair and I enjoyed his whimsical outfits,” said mother Susan Topping Huntington, who was born into one of the area’s oldest and most prominent families, and married into another. Mario Lavandeira is Perez Hilton’s real name.

  “He was like a performer I’d seen who did gorgeous origami at the holiday benefit for the kids at the library. My salon guy, Jeffrey, really recommended him. And I loved that he was a Mario who spoke such perfect English,” said Huntington, unaware that Hilton’s main job is reveling in Hollywood gossip on his heavily trafficked website, and until relatively recently, drawing cocaine and semen drawings across the faces of targeted celebrities.

  “He did seem a bit, well, a bit of a dandy. But he is a rather tall man, and these days aren’t like the old days. We really have, how should I put this delicately, quite a lot of financial interests that make it crucial for Robert to have a man guard him rather than the traditional Scottish nannies we grew up with.”

  Investment banker Peter Huntington soon noticed some odd behavior from Robert. “He kept talking about ‘Perez’ and ‘Perezers.’ One day he ran into the great room and asked me who was more—what was the word he used?—‘fierce,’ I think. ‘Who was more fierce, Miz Dita Von Teese or Miz Kylie Minogue?’” Both parents assumed that these were teachers or specialists at the exclusive preschool Robert attends. They are actually a burlesque star and an aging pop singer, respectively, both lionized as divas by Hilton.

  It was Peter Huntington who finally discovered Hilton’s true identity while attending a benefit for at-risk youth. Featured was Hilton’s anti-bullying testimonial for “It Gets Better.” He also learned that Hilton had recently toned down his site and had stopped drawing those apparent cocaine and semen scribblings.

  When confronted by the Huntingtons, Hilton told them, “You caught me! Took you hella long to figure it out!” And when asked why he decided to become a manny, Hilton said it was part of his reinvention from viciously catty to more mainstream. “I got tired of drawing cum and coke on people’s faces. No more calling Jennifer Aniston ‘Maniston.’ I was tired of being the cattiest ‘Queen of all Media’ and wanted something real, authentic. And Robert’s a great kid. He totally brought the ferocity on some of La Lohan’s captions. He loves RiRi [Rihanna] and Selenita [Selena Gomez] as much as I do. And I just got a cameo on Glee!I realized pretty fast, dahlings, this bitch can’t quit.”

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  Child with “Mullet” Pressured

  to Leave School

  Suburgatory, USA—A six-year-old child has been pressured to leave his private school because his “mullet” hair style has been deemed “disruptive” and “disturbing” by school officials.

  Officials at Hamilton Knoll Academy refused to comment on the matter, but several parents, who all requested anonymity, described the controversy. “No one here has one of those trashy mullets! My kid kept coming home and asking me about it. ‘Mommy, [name withheld to protect the child] has this really short hair in the front and long in back! What is that, Mommy?’ I don’t want my child to have to know what a mullet is.”

  This reporter met with several concerned mothers at a local Stitch-n-Bitch meet-up on Central Street. “Look, I just got done explaining what Diwali is to my Eamon. It was so confusing for him. And for me, frankly. Now I have to explain what a mullet is? I seriously didn’t think anyone still had those!”

  Another parent tried to explain to her daughter that this child came from “another culture.” The girl asked, “What culture, Mom? Is he Native American?” The parent remarked, “What was I supposed to say? The kid’s white trash? My daughter knows culture. She’s been to Venice!”

  The attendants of the Stitch-n-Bitch gathering were asked to describe the parents of the child in question, who were unavailable for interview. In the words of one mom: “You know, it’s really weird. They can afford the tuition, bu
t they have a dumpy car with a public radio sticker, and so for a while I thought, ‘Oh, they must be lesbians! That’s why the kid has a mullet!’ But they weren’t lesbians. I saw the dad at Open House.”

  The mothers were nearly unanimous in agreeing that it would have been much easier if the parents had, in fact, been lesbians, as this culture has already been well examined in the typical kindergarten curriculum.

  Another mother who attended that open house said: “Yeah, I was thinking before I saw him, ‘Maybe he’s a famous ex-hockey player? And has a family history of hockey hair mullets?’ But he was a total schlub.”

  One mother disputed the notion that the family was white trash. “No way. Not with that public radio sticker. I heard they don’t even have cable. And their last name sounds Jewish. Jews aren’t white trash. But a Jew with a mullet? I mean, I’m at a complete loss with that one. Could they be hipsters? Is it an ironic mullet?”

  She agreed that regardless the mysterious cultural background of the parents, the child’s mullet was an unwelcome distraction for her child. “McDermott could not stop staring at it. He’s got ADHD. It’s hard enough for him to keep it together in the classroom. I’m just glad the head of the lower school agreed to do something about it.”

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