That is seriously ‘dup!13 VIPs have spoken »
My good friend Wendy Prime from Of Books and Boys has written a guest post for me today. I call her Wendy Prime because we seem to have a few Wendys popping up intermittently in the Lounge. Every time I see the name Wendy I assume it’s Wendy Prime. She has a particular writing voice so when I read a comment from a different Wendy I have Wendy Prime’s voice in my head.
And when it’s a different Wendy her voice and the comment don’t match up. Then I go back and try to figure out what’s wrong with the picture and that is when I realize it’s a different Wendy.
Anyway, she has three boys and a family-friendly blog. But the story she is going to share, which is quite hilarious, is not well-suited to her audience. That’s why she’s here today.
And that’s not all. She has graciously provided a new catch phrase for the VIPers of the Lounge: it’s ‘dup and I know you will grow to love it as much as I do.
Now let’s move onto Wendy’s story, already in progress:
When we had our first son, like most parents, we were strict and vigilant and consumed with “doing it right.” He was not allowed to taste pop or sweets. I picked out his clothes. He watched PBS programs like “Sesame Street” and “Barney.” When he entered kindergarten, I still firmly held my ground. He was not allowed to watch things like “Pokemon” or “The Power Rangers.”
Those shows might have corrupted him in some way.
Then, slowly, gradually, the big hammer was lifted and eventually put down (almost altogether). He wanted “those shoes with a check mark on ‘em” because “they make you run really fast.” He began to watch Power Rangers, while I checked constantly for an increase in his aggression levels. We found a pack of Pokemon cards at a thrift store for a ridiculously low price and entered the phase of Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh. Boys are, after all, naturally drawn to such things.
By the time he was seven or eight, our favorite Saturday schedule included driving to the nearby mall where our son would participate in Yu-Gi-Oh duels, we would enjoy lunch in the food court, shop a bit, head home and finish the day off, sitting on the couch together watching “Maximum Exposure.” This was a show full of video clips of things gone wrong or stupid antics.
It was quality Daddy-son time for the men in my life.
By the time we moved to our present home in Indiana, our oldest son entered middle school and had a television in his own room — mostly so we would not have to watch him play endless PlayStation games. Last year, he became a fan of a show that airs on MTV called “Scarred.”
Similar to “Maximum Exposure,” this show shares stories and live video clips of thrill seekers who have been injured while attempting various stunts on skateboards, skis, motorcycles, etc. These scenes were so graphic that my son would call out to have my husband come see a particularly horrible injury.
(Editor’s note: AUUUGGHHHH!!)
This would be all well and good, if we hadn’t added two more sons to the mix. Our little boys are presently three and five years old. As soon as they heard that their older brother was watching something incredibly awesome, they began to clamor to be included. At first, I forbid it. As time went on, they would watch a snippet here or there. Now, this is their favorite thing to do at the end of the day.
Once Daddy has returned from work and dinner has been eaten, they begin to beg Daddy to sit with them and watch an episode of “Scarred.” In most episodes, they air five different stories of individuals getting “scarred,” and end the show with “the most f*cked up clip of the day.”
Of course, this is usually the one that I cannot even bear to watch because legs are split open or limbs are dangling off the body. They will call me in because they know it is too much for my wimpy demeanor to handle. Heck, I can’t even handle getting a shot; there’s no way in the world I would be able to watch someone get a metal rod inserted into their leg to reattach the two severed pieces. Yuck!
(Editor’s Note: Y’all know I love Dr. G. I might have to check this show out after all.)
When the last clip is played on the show, the announcer says the full word, however it is beeped out. Well, it’s beeped out until it hits the d in the word f*#@ed. So the boys hear, “And now … the most (beep) ‘dup clip of the day!”
The boys, being little parrots, love to spend most of the day flailing themselves onto the ground then showing me how they got “scarred.” They play this game.
What cracks me up the most, however, is that they are so clueless about what is actually coming out of their mouths. They preface a particular tumble with “And now … the most ‘DUP clip of the day.”
They disregard the beep and they literally think the word is DUP!
Here’s a clip of the announcer, Jacoby, saying his famous pet phrase: “The most ‘dup clip of the day.”
I’m not sure I want my middle son watching this anymore because they spell out f*#@ed up and now he can read. If he pays close attention, he might figure out that the word starts with an F.
Anyway, the other day my middle son came over to show me his scars. He had drawn a stapled scar onto one leg and a red, bloody pool on the other. As long as their injuries remain temporary tattoos, I’m fine with it. I can look at it and say “Aw, Dude, that’s ‘dup!”
I can’t wait for spring weather when we can return to the local playground. I’m pretty sure my little boys will be flinging themselves off of the merry-go-round (yes, Cardiogirl, we have one at our park! Woot!) and calling out, “that was the most ‘dup clip of the day!”
Of course, on the flip side, I’m not looking forward to possible stares from onlooking parents who in their heads may be thinking, ‘That’s really ‘dup! Can you believe that woman allows her preschool sons to watch a show like that!’ But chances are they won’t even have a clue either, so I could sit around talking about what’s ‘dup all the time.
So, what’s ‘dup in your part of the world?