Momma can no longer deny it. She is getting older. Sales people and others in the service industry have started referring to her as “honey,” “sweetie” and “dear.” (“So ageist, Lina,” says Momma who normally claims only liberals play the victim card.) Cases in point: Just the other day a clerk at Byerly’s referred to her as “dear,” and the bagger almost begged her to drive up for her groceries rather than try carry two bags to her car. Then there was the clerk at Pilgrim Cleaners who, totally unsolicited by Momma, offered her the senior citizen discount of 10%. And let’s not forget when the driver of a courtesy cart at MSP asked her if she wanted a ride to her gate (see blog post, April 29, 2022). And when did the TSA people get the impression that it is “okay” to ask certain passengers if they have an artificial hips or knees before going through security?
Also, just a couple of weeks ago after attending one of her right-wing extremist events, Momma had another wake up call. Upon leaving the meeting, she was speaking with an employee of the venue (who was sporting a patriotic t-shirt), while carefully descending some steps in her fashion boots. All of a sudden, a guy behind her called out, “would you like me to help you down the stairs, ma’am?” Momma almost gave him a sharp retort, but quickly relented and took his arm when she realized he was a member of her tribe.
And last week Momma was navigating her way through the security maze at MSP on her way to Florida, when reality “bit” her in the butt again. When she finally got to the TSA guy who let her pass, Momma asked him, “so do I get in that line over there?” pointing to the right where she saw there was no waiting. He replied, “Are you over seventy-five?” Enraged (and triggered), Momma informed TSA Guy in no uncertain terms that she was not even close to seventy-five. TSA Guy, trying to defuse the situation, said placatingly, “and you look good.” Momma, satisfied, held her head a little higher and jauntily marched into the large plastic tube reserved for the younger crowd.
And so it goes . . .
Chief Fluff Officer?
On another topic, Momma’s friend, Linda, recently sent her an article on Yappy.com’s pup influencer contest. It seems that Yappy is looking for a “Chief Fluff Officer.” (Momma especially liked this title because her hero, @ElonMusk, is now calling himself “Chief Twit” or something similarly foolish.) Momma was also wild about the article’s headline: “Your dog can earn $10,000 a year as a pup influencer.” For my part, I knew that I could trust the bone fides of the contest since CNN wrote the article; however, I was still not on board.
In a company ad, Yappy explained the winning canine candidate’s qualifications: “The successful pup will be a natural behind the camera, always happy to strike a pose and genuinely enjoy having their photo taken and being filmed as they try out our latest personalized gifts.” Yappy further explained that the pup should have a social media page and warned that the competition would be ruff with over 3,000 applicants so far.
Although Momma had already all but spent the $10,000, we had a few drawbacks. Number one, I don’t like to have my picture taken (and by the way, Yappy, shouldn’t your ad say that the pup will be a natural in front of the camera). Just woofin’. Number two, I don’t like to dress up in any type of clothing (other than my Joe Biden scarf), and noisy toys scare me. Number three, although, I do have Instagram and Twitter accounts, (@linadogblogger) Momma has failed in her administrative duties to keep them up-to-date.
Nevertheless, I fear that Momma will forge ahead with our application. In fact, she has already put together my professional modeling portfolio. (“Surely Yappy will see that you know your way around toys and outfits, Lina.”) What do you think?
Lina, Not just another pretty face