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A Shout Out to The In-Laws

I recently sent my in-laws a joyous introduction to Suburban Jungle. They were not aware of the blog till my husband threw me under the bus proudly alerted them of its existence. Our conversation went something like this:

Mother in Law: “Oh Jenny, Mark says you’ve been busy blogging… Did you start a blog?”

Me: (Mark, why can we never be on the same team?) “A blog well… yeah it’s just like recipes and stuff. Nothing exciting.”

MIL: “Oh, is your Mother’s brisket on there?”

Me: “No not like yummy recipes (Where do I go from here? Crappy recipes?) No it’s barely edible kid stuff like homemade play dough and how to grow rock candy.” (Good save!) Nothing you would want to cook.”

MIL: “Well Mark told us it was a humor column and he asked what we thought of it, but we said you never sent it to us.” (FOILED AGAIN. Thanks Mark).

Me: (surprised) “Oh… thaaat blog, well here’s the thing. I would be happy to send it to you but you must take the same oath I gave my parents.”

In-Laws: Silence

Me: “If I tell you that I don’t want you to read certain ones you can’t read them.”

In-Laws: Crickets

Me: “Look I love your son, but this is not a queer love blog. The love I feel for Mark is just not funny, not even a little bit. However, the shit he does or doesn’t do around the house really is. The fact that he still does not know where I keep the tool box or the plates is funny.” (Well it’s not funny when I’m yelling at him about it, but it may be to someone reading it.) I don’t want you to read stuff and call and ask if things are okay, or if we’re getting along. I want to be able to call your son a (insert punitive expletive here) with reckless abandon.”

MIL: Did you just call our son a punitive expletive?

Me: “Okay, let’s try another approach. What if I write something about our sex life? I don’t want you trying new positions and saying things like ‘Well Jenny and Mark like it.’ “

FIL: “We’d love to read about your sex life… we need a good laugh.”

Me: (Swallowing back vomit) “Funny… Listen, I didn’t want it to come to this, but clearly it has. The truth is we’re par-ti-ers. I know when you baby-sit we leave for dinner at 8, we’re back by 9, and by 9:30 Mark is fast asleep while you’re watching me put the kids to bed. But that’s because our morning life is insane.

At 4:30AM, an hour before “Crazy Mark” leaves for work we start shooting up. Then we do rails off the Pack N’ Play and our neighbors slip in the back door for a Morgy, (morning orgy). Then they sneak out and our day starts like everyone else’s, except we’re hopped up on coke. I would never want you guys to read about that stuff. That’s why I am posting a rating NPG (No Parental Guidance) on any explicit posts.

If you read it I will catch you. Your ways are not so wily. Like when you guys audibly whisper on the couch when I am 5 feet away.

Welcome to the jungle its wild in here. Well in your case tame, ‘cause you won’t be able to read the really scintillating stuff, but enjoy the other crap!

Welcome to the Suburban Jungle

Yesterday 253 people visited The Suburban Jungle, which is a personal triumph for me considering my stats the day before were 3. So I thought now would be a good time to introduce you to the blog.Blog…People, People…Blog.Now that the formalities are out of the way I’ll tell you a bit about what to expect from Blog.

I am a neurotic mother of two amazing, wonderful, brilliant, perfect children which is saying a lot ‘cause I am a really tough critic.They have to sing for their supper kinda stuff… well at least ask… well at least grunt.Actually, they just sit and I make multiple meals until one is worthy of their sophisticated taste buds and doesn’t exacerbate their fear of burnt spots, crust, pizza bubbles, or food that touches other food.I live in a sheltered little suburb which I like to compare to the Truman Show.The bikers travel in perfectly dressed packs and the runners never sweat; they’re all just on a loop.

Most likely you’ll find that you and I are a lot alike.I have a husband who’s often little more than a roommate (a great roommate that pays the rent and supports my shopping habit).However, to earn such moola he commutes an hour to North Boca leaving at 5:30AM and arriving home between 7 and 8 in the evening.We get less than an hour a day to talk, most of which I spend nagging or just plain in awe of his ineptitude and suckiness.“I love you Monkey!”But seriously wait till you read some of the stuff he does.

Like you I have crazy neighbors who do lovely things like leave anonymous letters in my mailbox and ask that my child’s carpool not beep in the morning as their older children like to sleep in.Like you I have crazy friends who are teetering on divorce, having affairs, start pourin’ the Mommy juice at noon, or act like they’re still in the 7th grade. Like you I have cellulite begging me to stop wearing short shorts, laugh lines screaming for restylane, crows feet crying for botox, and spend far too much money trying to look dewy.You and I have a Cinderella complex, penis envy, and buyers remorse.G-d we have a lot of problems don’t we?Let’s just take a quick break to call our therapists.

This blog is about all of the above plus daily observations about all those mundane little things that given a little attention seem odd and humorous; like repeating a simple word when you’re high until it loses all meaning.Please, if you haven’t taken the time to read the other posts do so and leave your email on my subscribe link to get notification of new posts. Welcome to the JUNGLE!

Love,

Jenny

P.S. If you like what you read please pass a link to every person you have ever emailed in your life. Also, I am offering a sizable reward for great contacts towards my goal of getting a column or freelance work.If I already owe you money, “The check’s in the mail.”