#26: Why was John Smith Australian?

The other day I found myself in the pediatric waiting room of a New Jersey surgical center. I was in the pediatric waiting room, because Rachel Ray was on in the adult waiting room and Pocahontas was in the children's room, so the choice was pretty much made for me. 
After the movie, I was trying very hard to ignore the documentary on Hannah Montana's Best of Both World's tour, when a young girl toddled in and started playing with the toys on the table. Her mother followed her in after a few moments. Her jeans were a size too small, and her shirt was far too short for a woman of her girth. Her multiple gold necklaces announced her arrival before she entered the room, and her hair was gelled into a messy, curly bird's nest the top of her head. 
"Where is the Cinderella doll?", her daughter asked. "Somebody stoled it. Just like always," snapped the mother. She collapsed into a chair, and turned to me with what can only be described as a scowl. "You gettin an injection?" I started and then smiled politely, "No, no, I'm just waiting for someone." She fixed her face into a disgusted grimace, as I had offended her with my answer, and she turned back to watch her daughter. Apparently, somebody stoled her social skills.

"I promise I won't make you have sex with grapes"~LM on stage direction.

#25: Mother of Mine

My favorite part about my job is examining the types of "mom" that walk into the gym. Here is a field guide of what I've observed:

1. The New Mom (Novus Matris): Usually recognizable by wide eyes and a general sense of panic in everything they do. While they never say it, you can almost hear their minds pleading, "I have this baby. Please, tell me what to do with it." They have an amazing sense of trust, bordering on naivete for anyone who can tell them anything about the little creature attached to their $500 stroller.

2. The Main Line Mom (Pelagus Versus Matris): Ever seen a 14 month-old in skinny jeans? I have. And that's a clear signal that they're the child of a main line mom. Thin and beautiful, these women use their gym time as a social ritual, rather than a learning experience for their child. Their children are dressed just as well as their mothers, and are more like accessories than humans; much like the tiny dogs that girls used to carry around in college. 

3. The Stage Mom (Tempus Matris): Just because you're not in the theatre doesn't mean there can't be a mom in the wings. Known for sitting in on classes that parents aren't supposed to attend, they have a language pattern that involves repeating whatever the instructor has just said, only louder and directed specifically at their child. It's no doubt that their children will become superstar athletes in high school, probably harboring a secret yen to play the bassoon. 

4. The Mean Nanny and The Slacker (Vilis Matris et Ientesco): The Mean Nanny can be easily identified by the ipods adorning their ears for the entirety of their gym time. They are quick to anger, and can be agitated by even a glance in their child's direction. They spend their time lounging in one of the ball pits, encouraging their child not to participate in the daily activities. The Slacker exhibits these traits as well, but will also leave the bulk of the child-rearing responsibility to the child's older sister or brother, even if they're only five years old.

"Hope to hear from you 'Schooner' rather than later"~KS and AS in a brilliant headshot submission for The Seafarer

#24: Yogurt imposter

As I was eating my Amaretto Cheesecake yogurt (which, of course, tasted nothing like amaretto or cheesecake), I noticed the words non-fat yogurt on the front. Yet, upon examining the nutrition facts, one can plainly see that there are 0.5 grams of fat. For that matter, the first two ingredients on the list are Milk fat and nonfat milk! Further more, why would you add milk fat AND nonfat milk? Doesn't that just equal out to regular ol' milk? Oh, dairy. You never fail to leave me flummoxed. 

"I used to bite my sister. But I don't anymore. She doesn't taste as good"~Second grade confessions provided by MB.

#23: Surviving the Gucci Brigade

Friday I learned to survive the Main Line moms. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that the hem of my Rollins slip peeks out from time to time. I've been known to wonder around BCBG touching every item. A touch of drool hits my lips when I see the new pink Coach bag being carried by a coworker, and I'm pretty sure I'd be able to buy a house with the money I spend at Starbucks in a year. Still, the Friday morning moms at my Gym manage to baffle me. After sitting in a circle on the floor for 45 minutes talking about germs while they let their infants jump on trampolines unsupervised, it was finally "stamp time". Every student in every class gets a stamp on their hand at the end of class for doing so well...or so I thought. As I bent down to give little Sophia a stamp, an eyeliner clad face popped in front of me. "SERIOUSLY. No stamps." She said giving me the stop sign with her manicured hand. "Oh, I'm sorry..." I stammered. "It gets ALL over their clothes and their face and I can't get it off for a week, so this class gets STICKERS." "I see," I replied rifling through the basket until I found the small tin of stickers. I just find it unfortunate that these children will have no practice for when they're older and getting their hands stamped for admittance to clubs in Manayunk, where they'll hang out with all the other Gucci and Prada tube tops and Ambercrombie button-ups.

"That's ok. You're just stupid"~KS on people who don't like The Godfather.

#22: A cookie shaped like America

Let me ask you muggles some questions (Muggles are non-theatre professionals, of course). When looking for jobs, do you find that you've become an expert at putting on liquid eyeliner on the subway? Do you get kicked so many times by the girl rehearsing the dance sequence in front of you that you develop a slight limp? Do you find yourself ordering ravioli soup at the thai restaurant across the street from the theatre because you haven't eaten all day and you've been waiting for hours for your call-back? Do you then find yourself using a rubbermaid cart as a makeshift table in the lobby of the theatre, but the cart is too high and the bench is too low so your really at eye level with the soup, trying not to spill shrimp on your audition dress, that is actually your baccalaureate dress from high school? Finally, do you find yourself roaming the streets of a deserted pennsylvania town looking for the last trolley so that you won't be stuck sleeping outside the Trader Joe's for the night? Yeah? Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure that was normal. 

Missing the Boat, or in my case the bus

Oh, how I ran! With each splash of a puddle and each shoulder I rammed into, I thought, "How did I come to this? Kristen 'Always a half hour early to the party' Burke is running across Manhattan to catch the Megabus home?" It all started with a soggy five dollar bill, drenched from walking around the persistent rain all day. I listened to subways flying by as I tried desperately to force the metrocard machine to take my money. Finally giving up and using my debit card for all of two dollars, I jumped on the four train. Unfortunately, the lady behind me was not as spritely and stuck her leg in as the doors were closing. Instead of removing her leg and waiting until the next train, she waited until tow of us pried the door open with our hands to let her in. "You can get hurt that way," one bystander said. "No kidding," the woman replied sinking her teeth into an apple and spitting the seeds unceremoniously into a plastic bag.

Besides a minor stress spasm, I figured I'd be ok. I'd stop at 33rd and 6th and run to 31st and 8th. I ran out of the subway, only to find I was not on 6th, but Park Avenue, a full 4 blocks farther than I thought I would be.  And so, I ran. I ran with an overstuffed Estee Lauder bag that my mom had received as a free gift slung over my back. I ran with a Ross umbrella that is so cheap, it's more like a lightning rod that anything else. I ran in Leopard print galoshes and a push-up bra. I ran until I saw Jimmy's Pulled Pork and the rounded side of Penn Station I'd come to know so well. I ran until the Megabus attendant told me I had missed the bus by all of one minute.

My punishment was walking around in the rain for an hour looking for a Tasti-D-Lite, to no avail. I then was shoved on a bus with no Wi-fi with some very unfriendly Philadelphians. No one would give up their seat for a couple with a baby, except me, of course. I moved from my two-seater to a spot next to a heavy man, who punished me by eating hard pretzels out of a lunch box he kept clutched to his stomach like a pirate's chest and then flatulating in his sleep so that I spent the entirety of the trip with my scarf wrapped around my face. Needless to say, I took the first cab I saw in Philadelphia home.

Unequal Opportunity Employers

Hi, I'm Kristen Burke. You know, we've had a lot of fun tonight laughing at Mario Lopez's Saved by the Bell haircut (mullet or jerry-curl? you decide). But you know what's not funny? Discrimination against vegetarians. While applying for waitressing jobs, vegetarians everywhere are being turned away at establishments like Zot in Old City. This restaurant claims it cannot hire servers who cannot taste their delicacies which include kangaroo, ostrich, and black bear. Now, most vegetarians would probably be against working at a place that serves entrees that could be from the endangered species list, but still it's the principal of the thing! Vegetarians should be able to serve Sea Turtle Omelets or Siberian Tiger Filets just like anyone else!

When a Stranger Calls

I was waiting for my ride at the Westmont PATCO station, when I discovered a cell phone sitting on the bench. Knowing the crippling effects of losing one's cell phone, I picked it up and scanned through the contacts until I landed on "Mom". A woman picked up, "Hello?"

Me: "Hello, my name is Kristen Burke, and I found this cell phone at the Westmont PATCO station. I dialed the number that said 'Mom'"

Mom: "Oh, I don't know whose that could be."

Me: "...Huh. Well...there's a picture of a woman and young boy on the phone."

Mom:  "Oh! Maybe it's my son's!"

Me: "...y-yes. That sounds right."

Mom: "Where are you? I'm in Long Island."

Me: "Well, I'm in New Jersey, and I'm going to leave the phone with an attendant here."

Mom: "Ok...hmmm"

Me: "Could you call your son at home and let him know where it is?"

Mom: "Oh, Ok! Yeah! I could do that."

Me: "Greeeaat."

On another topic, I believe cling wrap is one of the biggest lies in this country. 

Where Fun Goes to Die

Hey, you! Yes, YOU! Are you between the ages of 23 and 37? Do you feel no need to leave your college days behind you? Then come to scenic Manayunk! Here you can relive all the worst moments of your early 20's. Come stand in line for an overrated club with girls wearing tube tops and booty shorts in 40 degree weather. Enjoy being hit on by complete tools who think you care how they're going to climb the corporate ladder in the dry cleaning industry. Get stared down by girls with low self-esteem who are trying oh-so-very hard. If this sounds like the place you wanna be, take a 30 minute cab ride out of the city and come to a place where desperation is palpable and being pathetic never goes out of style. I guarantee you, you will never want to leave; and you probably won't be able to anyway since the train stops at midnight.