Pointless Consumerism and Persisting Patriarchy: A Holiday Tradition and a New Fluffy Dollars Drinking Game

Rode a plane last night, and besides seeing our lives flash before our eyes as we bobbed and weaved through the rough peaks of a cold front, we also became extremely annoyed with a tow-headed, home depot-style family across the aisle. From the moment we noticed them at the gate, we knew they were going to be trouble. First of all, the dad was this annoying loud talker who kept bossing his wife around -- asking her to hold his coat, then his bags from sharper image and pottery barn, and then his laptop. Around our feet, their two kids were playing on the lounge furniture and cackling like glue-sniffing hyenas. They were also sucking on lollipops and drooling everywhere. Meanwhile, the poor mother was buried under all her husband's crap, and the king dunce himself just strutted around like a peacock and shouted into his cell phone.

Now I like kids. I usually like them better then grown-ups. But for the love of Madonna, don't let them slobber and step on strangers.

Things didn't get any better when we boarded the plane. We were flying southwest, so it was of one of those seat yourself situations. As luck would have it, we found ourselves across the aisle from this odious family. It was a full flight; we had no choice. But I was shocked to see this family of four defiantly claim two whole rows -- six seats. Now usually I don't give a shit what other people do, but for some reason this family really bothered me. Their whole vibe was so entitled. The kids were drooling neon pink spit and flinging cheerios, and the father was emitting the most obvious fuck-you-I'm-better-than-you vibes. I swear he glared at every poor person who dared to consider taking one of the empty seats between them.

This man spent the remainder of his time on the plane ignoring his family and drinking little bottles of wild turkey. The wife listened to her i-pod, probably hoping to drown out the sounds of her wailing children. For some reason, she kept opening bag after bag and handing things over to the kids -- game boys, coloring books, barbies, and more candy. She didn't really talk to them or even take off her headphones -- she just handed them shit. It was very disturbing.

Anyway . . .why am I telling you this? In part it's to vent, sure. But I'm also using it to illustrate the rules of the new Fluffy Dollars Drinking Game.* On the Wed of each week from now until the new year we'll post about two items: one will be an item which reflects pointless consumerism and the other will be one which reflects persisting patriarchy. Each time we see one of these items, we're going to take a drink. This week we're looking for mad dads and kids with candy, so last night we basically got tanked. And you know what? It really did make us feel much better!*

Now we're not really the type to carry a flask in our pocket (at least not any more), so we'll probably just keep a mental tally or -- if the numbers really get up there -- jot down the incidents on a pad of paper and load up when we get home so we can comfortably pass out in front of some VH1 celebreality offering. We know, we know. We are incredibly immature. If you don't like it, then you can just put a lump of coal in our stocking. But we hope you'll consider playing.

*If you prefer a non-alcoholic version of the game, we'd like to suggest eating cookies as an alternative to drinking. After all, this game is all about the holiday spirit.