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Jenna Cole Mommy Blogging WTF Click for video Jenna Cole, everyone’s favorite parenthood storyteller, is once again spreading the magic of Christmas with her sympathetic approach to childhood dreams. Oh wait, no she’s not; she’s reminding everyone – mainly her small son – that Santa isn’t real, lest anyone but Jenna get credit for those gifts under the Businesslady Balsam she has erected in her honor. I knew that this was my chance to let him in on the Grownup Secret…I emphasized how important it is that he keep this secret to himself and not tell any of the other kids. When I said that Santa isn’t real, and that it’s a game that parents play with their kids, he smiled really big and immediately embraced the idea that he was very mature and able to handle the information. Just as she did in 2011 Jenna is making it clear that she will not be teaching her kids that some jelly belly’d house crasher from the Arctic Circle is responsible for their gift getting joy. Their gratitude will be firmly directed at Jenna, and Jenna only, or else she will procure a passive aggressive ceramic reminder of your betrayal. And so, this year when I was selecting the ornament I would give to T1 for 2014, I chose Santa and a small boy, skating off into the sunset together. To represent this year as the one where my kid chose a mythical Santa Claus figure over the being who actually has the power to hear and deliver on his heart’s deepest desires. Oh well, at least T1 first got a chance to tell all the kids at preschool that his Mommy says Santa isn’t real. I’m sure all the other parents appreciate that. Happy Holidays! Dooce, mother without children, attempted to sound uplifting by posting a making-the-best-of-it staged photo to her instagram. The caption was a long novella full of missing her kids, something something new traditions, and a lukewarm acknowledgment of her fangirls’ support.
Mandajuice, stinky, tried to join in the “criming while white” nonsense with this proud moment of whitery. A little over a year ago I got pulled over for running a red light in St. John’s (the most racially diverse neighborhood in Portland). I was on my way home from a party at which I had more than one glass of wine. Likely more than one BOTTLE. My car was not registered. I was uninsured. I thought I was FUCKED. But lol nope! She’s blonde so it was totally ok! “But me and my shiny blond hair got off with only a ticket.” She went on to inform the world that being able to drive on home (evidently while drunk) and sleep it off in her own bed “made me sick that night. Utterly sick.” She then cried her blonde white self to sleep over her blonde white privilege. Did anyone miss the part where this canker just admitted driving while drunk? Am I the only person focusing on that? Because her fanpoodles are high fiving her bravery like she just admitted she led the storm at Normandy. Look, I’m all for solidarity but maybe wink winking about how you drove home with “likely more than one bottle” of wine in you is not a cute way to go about it. Trisha Bell, of the subgramming Bells, is reacting to the Great Gram Purge with maturity and resignation. Linda, of All & Sundry, seems to be having a quarrel with her husband. Apparently he “scheduled a drywaller today, then disappeared into work meetings and became unreachable” and while Linda says the worker was “very very nice, and is a friend of a friend so works cheap”, she wanted twitter to “tell me I’m not completely crazy for being LIVID”. Meanwhile, her husband didn’t understand what all the yelling was about. And then all holy sriracha enema broke loose. Linda’s rage grew until people began to wonder if she had been caught in the blast of gamma radiation, and she let it all loose on twitter. Yep, she left the kids with her husband and took off to the honeymoon suite to enjoy the rainforest shower. She is now posting pictures of the Screw That Jagweed Holiday Hotel, and going to movies in her pajamas. She says her husband might “be like, how could you air our dirty laundry this way?” but Linda don’t curr – she claims “I’m done having secrets that make me feel bad.” So let’s just sit back and see how this goes. Popcorn and box wine available at the concession stand. Cecilyk, race relations justice fighter from her sofa, jumped on yet another hashtag this week. During her train ride to LastStabAtRelevanceville, she tweeted this claim. If you’re wondering why you’ve never heard this story before, don’t worry – you have. Just not this new version. One version tells of a young Cecily joy riding with a friend’s car and being forced to apologize. Pretty quickly we found their liquor stash, and soon we found their car keys, and we were driving their car through town, drunk…It was New Year’s Eve of 1981 when my mom asked me about the car…I was sure she knew everything, and I immediately confessed…I remember sitting in the house when the owners came back, forced to tell them what had happened, my mother rigid at my side. I remember the husband of that family looking stricken, saying, “Even now, I find myself wanting to trust you. How could you do this to us?” I remember feeling shame and yet burning with resentment, thinking that they were rich (they weren’t, the car was actually pretty old), what did it matter that I drank their booze and trashed their car? In an earlier version she claimed “I got put in jail for a few hours as a kid to try to scare me straight after I stole a car at 13.” Now via twitter she is evidently claiming she was not arrested – only the black kid involved was – and saying “only white people” don’t believe her story. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t add up; intarwebs reporters are still spreading her dubious tale around in their stories about the hashtag. Cecily whined to her facebook audience “I’m still getting press requests”, and tweeted this self-important statement: …as if the press are chasing her down for comment like she’s Kate Middleton walking out of Boots with a pregnancy test. So it looks like all her couch based hashtag activism has finally paid off by giving her a last stab at notoriety. I can’t wait to see how our new voice of racial justice changes the world, one “brown boy” at a time. No, you can’t. So why are you talking? Cecily Kellogg, couchtivist, is yet again throwing her weight at her keyboard in order to stand beside those wronged by the Ferguson Decision. In a piece she claims she was “asked to write”, Cecily compares being on food stamps and watching some kids throw rocks at baby birds to the feelings of helplessness and frustration in the African American community. She then muses about the unfairness of having a white child. Tonight too many of my friends are crawling into bed with their brown children and weeping because they don’t know if tomorrow or next week or next year it will be their child shot while his arms are raised in surrender…I will never know that fear. My pale skinned, blue-eyed daughter will most likely never be shot by the police, no matter how badly she behaves. I have never been more aware of that than I am tonight. She goes on to say she “will take action” though we all know what action usually means for Cecily.
That Wife Will Never Let You Forget You Chose Santa
Dooce’s Grief Sponsored By Headache Medicine
Internets WTF
Mandajuice Will DUI While Blonde
Trisha Bell Continues To Be Classy On Instagram
Sundry Will Livetweet Her Marital Disputes
Cecily Kellogg Is The Great White Story Changer
Cecily Continues To Stand Up For “Brown Children”
