Mom, can we please get some Flome for me?

Flome is a potentially dangerous product, with characteristics similar to PlayDough, another potentially dangerous product. However, they are only dangerous if actually purchased and brought into the home, where the containers can be opened and the product released into the environment, creating scattered pockets of hard colored material, which, when ingested by the stupid dog, return to a more moist state, and may cause alarm when viewed upon egress from said dog, who never learns not to eat stuff like that, it upsets the tummy.

This would not need to be addressed, except that the Saturday Morning Cartoon shows repetitively air commercials aimed at the consumer set that comes running out saying things like “Mom, can we please get some Flome for me?” Creating a society that believes you need things like Flome to be happy, when generations of children have been perfectly satisfied playing with mud pies instead.

And what is it with makeup for little girls? Do we really need to start promoting girls wearing makup by putting a 5 year olds favorite characters on it? And the Bratz dolls. They are little hussies! I don’t want my girl thinking showing her bellybutton and wearing makeup make her cool. And I pray “Bling” is never part of her vocabulary. I can only imagine the scene if she walked out wearing hip huggers and halter tops. Her Dad would explode.

But. Companies have a right to sell a product to those who will buy it. TV stations have a right to air any commercial that is paid for and allowed by those one people who regulate things. Because we need regulation, to make sure people don’t swear on TV, go ahead and show commercials for Viagra, Cialis, Trojan, Summers Eve, Kotex, frickin’ herpes medicine! etc. “Mom, what’s a douche?” “Why is that ribbed for her pleasure?” “What’s an erection, and why do you need to call the doctor if it lasts for more than four hours?”
“How many Trojans does it take for one Viagra?”

And why do people think you are obligated to answer the damn phone? Yes, I have call waiting on my cell. No, I do not answer it, unless it is my son. Often I don’t even look to see who it is. Because I am already talking to someone! (Ok, sometimes I do, just to get off of it with the first person.)
People call just to chat, when they know you are busy.

“whatcha doin’?”
Working
“I’m getting gas, and I was bored, so I thought I would call you”
your not supposed to talk on the phone while your pumping gas
“Did you hear what (insert name and meaningless action here) did?”
you know, static electricity can cause sparks to ignite gas vapors, and that cell phone won’t do much good when the gas goes poof
“and I just wanted to tell you about…”
and you ignite like a marshmallow in the campfire
“and she said she liked my hair better before”
and run screaming around the parking lot clutching your melting cell phone
“can you believe she was wearing white shoes with that dress,”
and end up in the trauma unit getting skin from your butt grafted on to your face
“Well, I’ve gotta go, it was good talking to ya!”
Yeah.