17 March, 2009

Sorry, to all the Deidres of this world

I had to put in that title there, because well, these days you can't make an innocent obnoxious internet post without offending SOMEONE, can you? (Hypothetical only: if you, the reader, don't even make internet posts, I guess you're off the hook.)

So a running joke among my IRC clansmen is that Deidre is to blame for all that is wrong in this world. I have identified myself as Deidre on more than one occasion. And to my eldest mini-geek I have even declared that it was Deidre who ate the last croissant. It's a nice, useless little non-existent entity to hold responsible for um, pretty much anything. I once even used it at St Vincent de Paul as the person who left all the empty coat-hangers in a pile behind the cash register.

Side note: For non-Strayans, Vinnies stores are like Goodwill. I "work" there as a volunteer.

So my SO and I are currently playing an Intarweb game, one of several that we play together, and in the game we're married, and have a child, named Deidre (of course). Deidre gains a year of age each day. She's currently 14. Each day one of us must fulfil her needs.

And in a remarkable parallel to my RealLife™, I forget. Unfortunately Deidre either doesn't notice or just chooses not to say anything about the fact she hasn't eaten since yesterday. She asks for stuff like a pencil and paper, or a story to read, or a gingerbread man. Or yoghurt.

My poor long-suffering SO had to remind me to log in and look after her today. Oops. This is Deidre ----->

Notice the lovely, curvy, adolescent figure? The breasts? The general "I can look after myself pretty well since I am almost an adult" demeanor?

Today what she needed was "Anti-diarrhoeic granules". Well, ok, I suppose occasionally someone picks up a bit of Bali Belly. But here's the killer. The description reads: "Are you tired of having to change diapers? Give your child a few anti-diarrhoeic granules and you won't even have to put another diaper on your child."

I think that's what all parents of 14-year-old girls need. An end to changing poopy backsides.

I know that I can't WAIT until my own daughter Aria turns 14 just so that I can sell my shares in Pampers and shove her mouth full of Immodium instead.