Welcome to Castle Wasowski...where the giant smiling sun from the Raisin Bran box is always shining, where Dad might be some kind of architect and Mom has hideous hair.
Castle Wasowski, where Dad and Mom, like so many other parents, are confusing their eldest daughter, Jane, for an actual princess. (Though I will admit that Jane has the best princess outfit I have seen thus far.)
Aaaaaah, Castle Wasowski, where Julie and her rubber ducky never get out of the tub (cleanest kid ever?!). Where Mom and Dad throw caution to the wind and, instead of using a modern stroller focused on child safety, push Lily around in a bassinet on wheels. Castle Wasowski, a place where Denim protects everyone from strangers at the front door.
Oh, Castle Wasowski, where............Fielder is dead.
ALTERNATE CAPTION:
This is wrong. Something is wrong. That dad is not Mike Wasowski!! THIS is Mike Wasowski:
A friend of mine recently moved into a new house. I went to visit, only to find this little gem on the window next to the front door. So of course my first move was to kneel down and capture my next blog victim.
I guess it's not enough anymore to advertise to everyone who drives behind you that you're a single mom with a daughter and two dogs. Now, you need every Girl Scout, Jehovah's Witness, UPS driver, and neighbor asking for a cup of sugar to know it, too.
Also, this sticker says to me, "I am a single mom who works full time and probably also has to take my daughter to her 16 extracurricular activities on evenings and weekends. And then I come home and probably stress about paying my bills and saving for her college fund, so I take Ambien to sleep. Are you looking for a house to rob? Pick me!!!!"
Note: My friend told me (and I confirmed) that sticker families are very hard to get off of glass. It definitely requires a razor blade. So if you are considering one of these, I suggest you confirm that your marriage and all pictured hobbies are committed to and solid before making the purchase.
A dad with a gut, drinking a beer and grilling a steak. I imagine him going to his thankless job every day, clad in a short-sleeved dress shirt and a paisley tie, mindlessly punching numbers into a computer, occasionally visiting the water cooler, eating a ham sandwich on wheat bread for lunch and counting down the minutes until 5:00.
A mom with a laptop and a cell phone. She's so mentally checked out of her marriage that she needs two constant electronic distractions at all times. She spends most of the family's discretionary income on tight skirts, champagne brunches and cellular data plans, so all of Dad's beer and steaks (and her car stickers) go on credit cards. In fact, they just made the payment on their SUV using a payday loan with a 750% interest rate. She is desperate to be the cool mom who is hip to technology. Case in point: she recently signed up for facebook (using a photo from 14 years ago), twitter (she doesn't understand the character limit so she keeps posting incomplete rants about aisle changes at the grocery store), foursquare (she just earned mayorship at the nail salon), pinterest (she recently started a pinboard of all the Valentine's Day crafts she wants to make) and instagram ("Did I drink this whole bottle of wine?! Whoopsie!"), and yesterday she started sending nude photos to random numbers via snapchat. (Also, she is wearing Minnie Mouse shoes, but I couldn't find a way to weave that into her story, so you readers can just do what you want to with that observation.)
Two daughters, both wearing outfits of questionable appropriateness. One in a midriff-baring tanktop and the other in a dress hardly covering her ass. Dad doesn't want either of them to leave the house like that, but knows he will lose the battle when Mom starts screaming things at him about tampons and not understanding teenage trends. So he drowns himself in more beer and steaks, rather than have one more fight. Mom spends 93% of her day on the internet in one form or another, both girls spend every night shut in their rooms texting on their iPhones, and Dad wishes he could afford something better than Bud Light.
It's the American dream..................right?
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