Stop the world, I'm getting off

Children's apparel of the future (listing for cute shirts here)

I received an email from a company this morning with the typical 'we wrote an article you and your readers might find interesting' spiel. Although I knew there was every likelihood that clicking through would make me feel stabby, I did anyway. It was 'Ten Places We Shouldn't Mention Our Kids' Names'*. Now, people who would write lists like these normally summarise as ANYWHERE ONLINE. Curious to know what they would name for the remaining nine places, I clicked. And here they are: children's sporting events, professional sporting events, the shops, Facebook, amusement parks, the grocery store, restaurants, big discount shops (especially the toy aisle), the park, and at sports practise. Let's ignore for the moment that in order to get to the mythical Top Ten that sporting events and shops are each triple counted, and parks and amusement parks are double counted. The fact remains that this scare-mongering advice is not to speak your child's name even when they are with you because, for example in the grocery store:

...this is a really common place to hear a parent yelling at their child. Most times the child’s full name including middle name is often sternly expressed at the child. Now any stranger listening knows your child’s full name and where you grocery shop. Maybe they will go back there every day and watch to see when you shop there. They might be able to lure the kid away from you and then snatch them.

And maybe the last time we went to the zoo, a honey badger liked the smell of my kids, escaped, and is waiting for his chance to eat them. It could happen.

The vast majority (statistics say 98%+) of child abductions are done by relations or acquaintances who would already know the child's name. Am I the only person who sees articles like this at best ridiculous and at worst detrimental to having a sane and normal upbringing?

*Although I am loathe to send any traffic their way, if you must it's here.

Pin It

Tweet

Diatribe from the Deathbed

I've been having trouble with my Kitschy Coo email since the dawn of time (which is hosted by Mr Site) but it's been exceptionally bad over the last month. If you have sent me a Very Important Email recently and I haven't responded, it's Mr Site's fault. Other than my main inbox, all of my other folders will not open most of the time. My main inbox? Full o' rubbish. Every other mailbox? Full o' the most important things in the world. Including my Sent Items, so in some cases I don't even know if I have responded to your Very Important Emails. Today I decided that I would export my entire mailbox into Outlook, which I hate slightly less than Mr Site.

I know, let's play a game. Which of these folders made it through to Outlook and which were just deleted, never to be seen again?


Sigh. You guys are so good at games. I know that by looking at that list for less than a minute, you would have known that these were the only things that made it to Outlook: Germanic religious spam and Viagra leads. And the ones that disappeared into the ether were: All messages over a year old, Etsy, event leads, fabric leads, OUTSTANDING ORDERS, receipts for my purchases, store leads, Things to keep FOREVER AND EVER, and Will trigger the Apocalypse if deleted. Particularly cataclysmic are the loss of all messages over a year old (I've had this account for more than two years), receipts for my purchases (I have to do my taxes this month) and obviously, Will trigger the apocalypse if deleted. Screenwriters, start writing your summer blockbusters about how Mr Site brought about the end of the world.

So. I need some legal advice. If, as anticipated, I have an aneurysm and die sometime within the next hour, which major lawsuit should Steven bring against Mr Site? Obviously, I think murder would be most appropriate but corporate manslaughter is probably more realistic. There is definate negligence, and absolutely some malice, but I just don't know. Researching criminal law is not what I want to be doing in my final moments.

Pin It

Tweet

Public service announcement: Do Not Watch

Some people have noticed I haven't blogged in a couple of days. My mom even phoned to see if I am all right. I am not all right. I have been sitting, and rocking, in a corner, since Tuesday. Because that was the day I took the kids to see this:

Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel.

It's not too often I'm at a loss for words, but I can categorically say hand on heart and Girl Scout promise: THIS IS THE WORST MOVIE EVER MADE. I wasn't able to take a picture of our collective hatred (yes, even the kids hated it) lest I be deemed a pirate but it went something like this:


But it gets worse. Remember the object of my affections from Criminal Minds? Or, as he shall ever be remembered from now on: Simon.
Thank you, 20th Century Fox for ruining one of the few joys in my life.

And then today, looking for screengrabs, I find out that the readers of Time Out: London have given it an average review of four stars out of five:

IMDB after Rennie gets her hands on it?
My favourite review?
This is the world I have brought children into.

Pin It

Tweet