Week 3…So, how we all doing out there? I don’t know about y’all but I feel like a lightning bug trapped in a mayonnaise jar except without the fun part where your butt lights up. The good news? I haven’t worn anything with a waistband in 21 days. Thanks to eating all this comfort food, I’m starting to look just like pre-plastic surgery Mama June. Bless her heart.
I think it’s time we all took a moment to thank the nation’s heroic first responders: Netflix, Hulu and Amazon. A grateful nation can never repay you for being there for us. And, if I may, thoughts and prayers for the Tiger King. Speaking of which, there’s a very high-minded debate over on the Facebook between my “friends” who love the wacky Netflix doc about the gay polygamist owner of a big cat zoo and the ones who think the show is a depraved exploitation of rare exotic animals.
Guess which group I wanna have a beer with.
The people who hate Tiger King say, “I watched a few minutes of it and I was APPALLED!” I get that. I said the same thing about the current administration.
Speaking of things that have outlived their usefulness, let’s agree it’s time to retire the word “quarantini.” We must toss it in the lexiconic dustbin just as we did its predecessors “No way—way!,” “You get a car! You get a car! You get a car!” and “Spoiler alert!”. That last especially. Because it never seems to be something worthy of an alert, i.e. “Ken picked up Barbie to take her to the Food Lion. Spoiler alert: No avocados!”
We’re Americans and if we really like something we tend to overdo. So RIP Quarantini. You burned too brightly and now you must go. Oh, and take Covidiot with you. Kidding! I love Covidiot. There has never been a snappier lil put down for those who continue to congregate risking contamination. To be blunt, rednecks at the beach, this isn’t a damn chicken pox party hosted by hippie moms in the ’70s. This crap KILLS.
Much has been written about parents homeschooling their young kids during our national house arrest but not much has been said about those of us who have joyfully welcomed home our independent, working adult children. Only to discover we’re both catapulted back to middle school. No, you can’t have your friend over. He could be SHEDDING VIRUS. Now go to your room and watch “High School Musical.”
Hang in there, y’all. This can’t last forever. I don’t think.
Celia Rivenbark is hoarding bacon and learning to knit. Visit www.celiarivenbark.com.
ing with a waist in 21 days. And all these Zooms and Google Hangouts and Facetime visits that seemed like a lot of fun just a week ago are now starting to wear on me. I gotta get showered for those. And makeup. And I gotta blow dry my hair WITH three kinds of product just so I don’t look like serious roadkill. As opposed to the more upbeat roadkill, I guess.