Beware the Social Teenager
If anyone out there questions the existence of the Black Hole, Steve Hawking and I have a news flash for you. Of course Stevie and I disagree as to the exact definition of the Black Hole since his theories (definitely disadvantaged by not being a mom) are so much more antiquated than my own. The Black Hole (drum roll please) is actually in the form of a scantily clad teenager whose number of piercings is only matched by the daily tally of eye rolls, mumbles, and "whatever's." Yep,if any type of money--plastic, paper or coin--of any demonination, gets within 50 yards of the teenager's gravitational field it hurtles helplessly toward his or her open hand, unable to escape the enormous pull. Seriously, a parent can get nickel and dimed to death with just one teen in the family. Imagine the financial strain of having 3 and a half of them in your galaxy. They need movie tickets. They have to have the cute little black shirt they saw at Rampage because tomorrow is "Black Shirt Day" at school and they'll get a zero on their daily grade if they come to school in dark gray. (Black shoe polish is not an option. I know this because I tried with little success and even less enthusiasm from the teen in question.) They need the cute little pair of red Jimmy Choo's from Neiman's because the next day is "Cute Little Red Jimmy Choo Shoe Day" at school and their grade point average is in jeopardy. They need their Star Bucks Double Shots, their monthly allotment of gum from Walgreens, more eyeliner and lipstick (their makeup expenditures alone rival the entire budget of some third countries), lunch money cuz they'll starve to death and they forgot to make their lunch at home and anyway it's embarrassing to carry a paper sack around at school with a picture of Taz or Bugs Bunny on it. If you think you're a step ahead of them by denying them their own set of wheels, dream on. Those car and insurance payments are a bargain compared to the constant stream of bills flowing out of your wallet to help defray the gas costs for the friends that cart them from pillar to post. You could circle the globe seven times in one week with what I distribute to various teenage strangers. That said, I advise anyone with a child anywhere close to being a teenager to hire a top notch financial advisor, start a savings program by hoarding all coins trapped beneath sofa cushions, and practicing the following phrases in front of the mirror three times a day:
NO
GO AWAY
WHAT? IT'S NOT CHRISTMAS IS IT?
IT'S CALLED A JOB. DUH.
Good luck, folks,
Me