Monday, October 03, 2005

Yesterday, after an unsuccessful attempt at getting Peanut to nap in his crib, we settled down on the couch. He has a case of the sniffles, so I knew the crib probably wouldn't work, but it was worth a shot. Once he dozed off, I turned on the tv. I ended up watching "My Super Sweet Sixteen" (an MTeeVee show). Holy shit. It's an f-ing train wreck. I knew it was going to be horrible, but I couldn't stop watching.

I saw 3 episodes. All 3 were sickening. Spoiled rich girls throwing parties for their Sweet 16s. Parties with VIP rooms, limos, hired dancers, fancy invites, security...you name it. One did a Cinderella theme complete with a horse-drawn carriage. Another did a Moulin Rouge theme with dancing girls.

All 3 girls were nasty. Two of the 3 treated their moms like crap; the moms who were paying for their snotty little asses to party. The third girl was recently adopted, so I have a feeling that's why she was nice to her mom. (It was odd, she had come from a really bad situation including a poor upbringing and many years in foster care, and she was just as nasty as the girls born into money.) These girls completely got off on the power they had over who was/was not invited. They all had lists of Cool People who were invited and Losers who definitely were not. One girl flew into NY on her family's private plane to shop for a dress. Unreal.

One of the moms spilled the beans. The party: $180,000. Yes, $180k. For a party. For a 16 year old.

Shit. Our house didn't cost that much (although now, with appreciation, it would be in that neighborhood, maybe more.) In fact, we could pay off our mortgage, car loan, Hubby's student loan, both our credit cards, all our other debts, buy another car, and still have money left over.

All for the price of a party.

I may gripe about not having a lot of money, but I know I have it good. Hubby and I are able to pay our bills on time every month and put food on the table. That's more than many people have. We have each other, our health, a nice home, our cars, and jobs. And those sorry little girls threw tantrums because an "ugly girl" was dancing on the stage at her party, or a loser somehow snuck in, or her dress wasn't perfect, at her $180k party.

Whatever.

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