For fun – because this is the kind of stuff we do around our house – I asked each member of my family to come up with a caption for this picture. Not everyone (my daughter) was so eager to contribute. See if you can guess who thought up what. I’ll tell you the answers at the end.
Answer: husband, daughter, older son, younger son, me, and me again.
Today, I’m going to the mall with my daughter to buy her some back-to-school clothes. In case you’ve never shopped with a teenage girl before, you should probably know that there are usually a few rules to go along with this type of outing. Every family is a bit different, but typically, it’s pretty strict. It’s like being in jail without the actual bars. I thought I would outline the “Raynor Family” rules for you. If I don’t come back alive, you will at least know what I’ve been through. 
OK, so the above rule #1 – no holding hands – is a joke. As if. Now let’s get serious…
1. Don’t be a bitch. This refers to me. And it means don’t try to tell her to “hurry up” or “stop spending so much”. Not sure I’ll abide by those guidelines, but they’ve been painfully set in place nonetheless.
2. We must plan to arrive at the mall as soon as it opens, thereby giving ourselves a good two hour cushion before the rest of the teenage world shows up to shop. Obviously, my daughter doesn’t want to be seen with me. I think this rule is pretty universal.
3. On the way there in the car, we will be listening to my daughter’s music, because the stuff I like is old and lame and just plain shit. It’s a good thing I like JJ Money. Who am I kidding? No I don’t. I thought I might sound cool if I said I did. My daughter says that no matter what, I am NOT cool.
4. As for what I’ll be wearing, my outfit should no doubt, be very nondescript. In case any other teenagers have gotten the same idea to shop early, my daughter wouldn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to us. I think she has picked out a grey shirt and my Gap khakis for me to wear I can’t look too “out of it”, but I also can’t look too “with it” otherwise I may be deemed “trying too hard” and that would be bad – very bad. Furthermore, I can’t wear shorts. Apparently, NOBODY wants to see my aging legs. And there will be no jewelry either. That could make me look slutty. Lastly, I have to make sure I bring my glasses so that I don’t end up looking like a complete idiot when I go to buy something and I can’t read the card machine’s instructions. I had to ask my daughter to help me last time. I couldn’t see which one was the “savings” and which one was the “chequing” account. She almost blew a gasket afterward. “That was so fucking embarrassing,” she fumed. I nearly pushed her out of the moving car.
5. We will drive past the skate board park on the way “to the mall” and on the way “back from the mall” as well. And no, there is no one in particular that she is on the lookout for at or near there. Yes, it takes us longer to get to where we are going if we travel that route, but it is way more scenic. We get to drive through an industrial complex.
6. I shall not speak to her once we are inside the mall unless she speaks to me first, and then, only in short, one sentence answers. “You always talk so loud. Be quiet for once in your life.” Of course, I talk loud. That’s what happens when you are used to no one ever listening to you – your voice just gradually increases in volume over time. Isn’t that why old people yell? And you thought it was because they couldn’t hear.
7. Upon arrival at the mall, we will park within fifty feet of the door even if it means driving in the opposite direction down the one-way in the parking garage, or going around and around a few times until a spot becomes available. No way in hell is she gonna walk those twenty extra steps. Are you fucking kidding her?
8. She will ask me at some point in our travels to buy her a treat – like a muffin or a donut or something. This is a test. I repeat – THIS IS A TEST! Even if she says, “Are you trying to make me fat?” upon approaching the counter, I will STILL do it. Remember, I have already been bound by the laws of “not being a bitch” to deny her such indulgence.
9. I will spend the amount of money that we agreed upon – plus probably double that – to buy the things she needs because her “body has changed these last two months and nothing fits her anymore”. This will include three pairs of pants, a pair of shoes, a few t-shirts, a cardigan, and a new bag. I will be prepared to spend the extra on miscellaneous items without inquiry or complaint, because I know that “girls go through a lot of peer pressure when it comes to wearing the right clothes” and “I do NOT want her to be an outcast or worse, have her do something very bad to herself because her self esteem could get to an all time low”? Jesus, was I like this when I was her age?
10. If I see anyone I know, I must put my head down and walk very fast straight to the exit. If I can’t get away in time, and the person ends up talking to me, my daughter has said that she WILL NOT do any work for her allowance for the next three months. I guess then nobody will put their shoes in the mud room instead of at the front door, like that is such a hard job.
11. NOTE: This is a very important rule. WHAT HAPPENS AT THE MALL, STAYS AT THE MALL. This pertains mainly (but not exclusively) to money and/or to arguments about money and/or to her behaviour. If asked, I will tell my husband (her father) that it was a GREAT bonding experience, and that we only spent $50. We wouldn’t want him to have a bad impression of his precious daughter, thereby not taking her friend Samantha (name has been changed to protect the innocent) on the trip at Christmas, now would we?
12. Lastly, but no less importantly, when we get home, I must not ask her to help make dinner. She will be tired from the stress of trying stuff on and from riding the escalators. I should just make her a cup of hot chocolate. She will be waiting impatiently on the couch for it. Oh, and that rule about eating bad does not apply at home. No one can see her there. Why do I always have to ask such stupid question, thereby making people’s lives so difficult? Never mind, I’ll just shut up and do it. Then I’ll be going to bed…for a week..at least. My head hurts already.
This is a message for my son. Since he is never home these days – busy out gallivanting around the world – I thought I’d write him a little note. Charles, here are just a few suggestions for how to behave at nineteen so you are NOT fucked up when you are forty.
1. When you are nineteen, go easy on the drugs and alcohol. I know it seems like you can party for five months straight – all high and inebriated and stuff – but believe me, you are setting the standard for what’s to come. And it WILL catch up to you. You start with one thing, and then it’s another, and another, and before you know it, you are half way through your life, your hair is falling out, and all you do it sit on the couch rocking back and forth, watching reruns of Good Times. Yes, you USED to have “good times”, but now you’re just pathetic.
2. Don’t sleep with every person you meet. You may regret some of those experiences. And you may start getting lesions in places you’d rather not.
3. Sleep with as many people as you can while you’re young. Then, when you’re forty, your partner won’t have to “take you for all your worth” because he/she caught you boinking Jenny or Jeremy from down the street. And I know this sounds completely contradictory to what I just said, but relationships are tough to figure out. You can’t win.
4. Start eating healthy now, at least a little. Before you know it, that box of K.D. for breakfast, lunch, and dinner will turn into quite the pronounced tire around your midsection.
5. Start exercising now, at least a little. Before you know it, that “I’d rather drink a case of beer and then sleep all day before getting up to do it all over again” attitude will make it so that you you need to wear a 38 C cup bra, and you’re a guy.
6. Be nice to your parents now, even if you think they are complete idiots. If you don’t, by the time you’re forty, they may very well have moved to the other side of the planet – just to get away from you snide remarks and negative attitude. Then, when (and if) you have a family and children of your own, you’ll have to rely on that scary kid who smokes weed at the corner store as your babysitter. That was you once. Don’t judge.
7. Pay attention at school. Try to stay awake in some of your classes anyway. It would be nice if a modicum of useful information permeated your brain. Then, when you’re forty, you won’t gargle with Javex to try to make your teeth whiter, and then say that no one told you it was a bad idea.
8. Don’t stay up until four in the morning every single night. Save that sort of thing for the really “big” occasions in your life. Once you start screwing with your body’s sleep clock, it is really hard to get it back to normal. Or do you WANT to work at that twenty-four hour gas station for the rest of your life?
9. Pretend that you care about the world, i.e. don’t throw your garbage just anywhere. That’s what trash cans are for. And don’t be wasteful. There are children starving in Africa – there actually are.
When you are forty – if all teenagers do this sort of stuff – you will be living in a place that’s even more degenerate and gross than I imagine Iggy Pop’s breath must be – the guy in the picture above. Thank goodness, by that time, I’ll be dead.
10. Make sure – and I know you’ve heard this a million times already – that you don’t do stupid shit when you are out driving my car. Don’t drive too fast. Don’t text and drive. And don’t ever, ever think of racing anybody, even if you have a hot girl sitting next to you, and she says, “Floor it. Screw those bitches.” You wouldn’t want to crash, and then – when you are forty – find yourself still confined to a wheelchair. Cars are weapons.
11. One more thing. Try cleaning up after yourself. Do your dishes, tidy up your room, do your own laundry, etc. etc. One day soon – and I mean REALLY soon – you won’t be living here anymore (I hope), and then how are you going to find clean underpants? Girls (or guys, or both, I don’t care) don’t generally want to cuddle with boys who are wearing poop-stained clothing. Well, you might find a few who do, but that’s fairly uncommon. Unless you go on the internet. Come to think of it, you probably know more about this than I do, so never mind.
TheFurFiles 