Preschool Owns You, and There's Nothing You Can Do

Categories: Alice Column

Is Pete Delkus part of a preschool-meteorologist conspiracy to drive parents insane? We're not saying yes; we're not saying no.
In preschool, they decide when school happens because they have you by the toddler balls. They don't follow a regular school calendar, because fuck you, they do what they want, this isn't real education yet. The "pre" in "preschool" does stand for "pretend," after all.

This isn't to say that your children aren't learning. Preschool is absolutely preparing your kid for real school, teaching them social skills and how to count and read and be good human beings and all that. It's necessary, even if it feels like it exists because you need your toddling, sticky-handed, Frozen-song-on-repeat-singing kids to go somewhere for four to six hours a day so that you have the patience to survive the Infant And Toddler Crying Face Off Everything's Wrong Hour, aka Dear God What Have I Done To My Life Minutes, aka Sweet Sally's Shit Show, known to the rest of the world as 6 p.m.

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He Who Steals My Mom Purse Steals a Buttload of Chapsticks and Baby Wipes. Dummies.

Categories: Alice Column

Thieves are lucky they didn't steal Alice's Mom purse on the weekend. That's like stealing from the mob.
Dearest Butt Faces Who Broke into My Car at White Rock Lake Last Week,

When you broke the windows of my car (I was parked on Lawther by the stone tables), just like you've done to five other cars at the lake this month, according to police reports, and stole my purse from under the front seat of the car while I was strollering for 20 minutes at the lake in the middle of the day, you didn't just steal a purse. You turds stole my Mom purse.

The difference between my Mom purse and a regular purse is about 30 lbs. on a weekday. (On a weekend, it's more like 32 lbs., because of the added weight of a fifth of Jack Daniel's.) The Mom purse holds everything I need to survive with two kids in the wild.

If you cut yourself jumping through my window to steal stuff, there are ample bandages and Neosporin in there to fix you right up. Oh, and if you were low on potassium after the thieving, I hope you helped yourself to the perfect banana. Do you have tiny baby feet? Sweet! There are at least two pairs of baby socks in there. So, sock it up! It's like Sock Christmas up in my Mom purse! Are you fair-skinned? Oh my God, me too! We have so much in common. Look in the side pocket for some sunscreen. It's there. And it's great. Good coverage, no greasy residue. You'll love it.

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Addison!! WTF?! What's with the New, Boring Logo?!?!?!

Categories: Alice Column

Dearest Addison: It has come to my attention that you have decided to change the logo for your town. This greatly saddens me. I have loved that logo since its inception. Every time I drive down Midway Road and find myself passing through your suburb, I yell, "Yay, I'm in Addison!" It is difficult to yell in italics, but I have practiced. Because your logo was that amazing.

Your logo in italics immediately said to visitors, "This place is super fancy. It's so fancy, its name can't even be set in regular type. Check out our many churrascaria options, you guys. Yeah, you heard right. We have Texas de Brazil AND Fogo de Chao, motherhumpers." It said, "We're different from Farmers Branch, with its stupid FB logo that looks like it just stands for Facebook." It said, "This isn't just Addison, it's Addison! You need a shortcut on your keyboard and a halfway excited voice to pronounce us properly."

Which brings us to punctuation. The old logo didn't have just any punctuation, it had the most powerful punctuation mark that exists: the exclamation point. You can't not be excited about things when an exclamation point is around. It's the law. By putting an exclamation point after an italicized Addison, you made it known that your town is a freaking badass place to be. This isn't "Frisco?" It's not "Plano&." This is Addison! Where people go to have brunch at a chain restaurant and talk about their recent successes!"

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Valley View's Wasteland Still a Good Place to Catch a Flick -- A Zombie Movie, Perhaps

Categories: Alice Column

Parking is never an issue at Valley View.
Dying Valley View Mall might not have Gadzooks, Thirsty's or dignity anymore, but what it does have is the perfect movie theater. I love it, because you're too scared to take your pretty girlfriend there, so it's always empty.

I wait in zero line to see Frozen on opening weekend while you're at NorthPark Center's movie theater, standing in a packed house during the previews, whisper-bitching at some 9-year old to get out of your assigned seat.

You're teaching your kids the words "shitbag" and "fuckball" while you whine about the crappy parking that's miles away from the theater because the dang valet took all the good NorthPark spots, and I'm parking right up front at Valley View Mall.

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Our Winter Olympics Week 2 Drinking Game

Categories: Alice Column

Whether you love the Winter Olympics ("Guns plus skiing equals yes!!") or hate them ("Stupid Winter Olympics need more gymnastics less ice dancing!"), everyone knows all Olympics are better with beer. Or whiskey. Or and whiskey. Welcome to the 2014 Sochi Olympics Drinking Game, the only way to enjoy the rest of these Olympics.

Every time you hear the word "footwork," everyone drinks.

If a butt meets ice or snow, last person to point and laugh must drink.

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How to Brag About Your Kid (Lie Like a Big Dog)

Categories: Alice Column

Sure, he looks impressive, but he's really just look for cats playing piano vids.
If you're a parent, it's essential that you learn how to brag about your child as soon as possible. After all, parents are competitive about their children as soon as the kids pop out. (Sometimes, even before the kid's born. "My pregnancy was super easy. I loved being pregnant! My baby was 16 pounds and I gave birth to her naturally, while I was folding laundry and reading War and Peace to my 4-year-old." "Oh yeah? I threw up every day and was on bed rest for 14 months and then gave birth in a taxi that was on fire to a 27-pound baby.") It's essential that you learn how to brag about your child properly, and as soon as possible. To get you started off right, here are 10 brags that should cover you until your child is in kindergarten:

"He skipped crawling and went straight to winning marathons. We're having trouble finding space for all the medals."

"My infant sharts at a fifth-grade level."

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Pleasure Doing Business: An Ode to the Nordstrom Bathroom

Categories: Alice Column

You've been there: You're walking through Nordstrom in NorthPark because it's on the way to the rest of the mall, and some cute plastic watch in the jewelry case catches your eye and so you ask the nice saleslady if you can "Check that sucker out," and the nice saleslady says, "Sure!" and gets it out for you and then the price of the item leads you to immediately need to crap yourself.

And so, you make a beeline to the bathroom via the escalator, trying to avert your eyes from the clothes on passing floors since the stuff you can see from the escalator is always the most prettiest, most expensivest shit in the store. You instinctively put your hands behind your back.

You start to worry that if you spend much more time in this store, security will be forced to escort you out for "looking average." But all those worries immediately vanish as you open the door to the ladies' restroom.

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Don't Be a Po-po. Teach Your Kids the Proper Names of Their Junk.

Categories: Alice Column

Noonie. Pee-pee. Dingle. Cha-cha. These aren't stripper names. They're the baby talk that many parents like to teach their kids instead of teaching them the words "penis" and "vagina." I asked a mom why she was calling her kid's parts weird things and she said that she was uncomfortable with hearing her daughter say the word "vagina."

I'm not against you calling your kid's parts by weird names. That's the best part of being a parent: You're in charge of a little life, and you have the power to steer it wherever you want to. You decide to dress your kid up like a leprechaun every day and send him on a seek-and-find for a double rainbow, fine. You wanna teach your kiddo that board games are only fun if you primal scream the entire time, I say YAHTZEE. You decide to steer your kid in the direction of "ta-ta" equals "vulva," that's your deal.

But I will say that there's nothing creepier than hearing a father say "noonie." And the way he says it, with that stinkface you do when you accidentally chug expired milk, you know it hurts his soul. "Did you remember to wipe your [hard swallow] ... noonie ... [stink-milk stinkface] ... sweetheart?"

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As Soon as My Baby Develops His Upper Bod, He's Doing His Own Laundry

Categories: Alice Column

Young Master Laussade, post workout
I am sick and tired of my kid being so lazy. He's lived under my roof his whole life, eating my food, leaving his crap all over the house expecting me to pick up after him without ever once saying "thanks." It's like, dude, you're 7 months old. Grow. Up.

So, I signed that lazy turd up for The Little Gym.

Little Gym Greeter Lady: "Well hello there!! Welcome to The Little Gym! We're a gym for little baby people! We're so glad to have you here! Can I get a high five, Little Man?"

Baby: (Blink, drool. Drool. Audible shart. Judgment.)

Little Gym Greeter Lady: "HE'S CUTE!!!"

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If We're Spending $1 Million to Upgrade a Dog Park, Let's Do it Dallas Style

Categories: Alice Column

A dog after Alice's own heart.
White Rock's dog park is getting a $1 million renovation, and I can't wait to see it. They're talking about reworking the "dog launch" that goes into the lake, which appears to be just a manufactured shallow end of the lake, but maybe they're making it into a dog catapult? Fingers crossed. Plus, we hear they're going to add some sweet-ass benches. And for a million bucks, you know those benches are fancy. I just hope they don't get rid of the eau de 8,000 gracklecrapvomit. I would hate for this dog park to lose its identity completely.

With all that money, this place is about to get a serious upgrade. I bet the benches will have fluffy fake-sheltie-furred captain's chairs attached to them with dog-water-holder paw rests. Ooh, and a dog-paddle-up bar, with water that's only backwards-dog-elbow deep. Cats will be behind the bar, all jealous that they don't have a cat park (not that they would be caught dead at a cat park, since cats obviously prefer speakeasies, but cats need something to be jealous and bitchy about), wearing cat vests and muddling shit. Yes, literally. Dogs love shit. (Locally sourced, non-GMO, of course.)

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