Editor's note: The following column was written (poorly) by Jeff Edelstein of The Trentonian, Ivan Lajara of The Daily Freeman and Jordan Fenster of the New Haven Register. Find out who wrote what paragraphs at http://bit.ly/lpNRAz
Every morning when I wake up, my first thought always centers around Angelina Jolie and what she's doing at that very moment.
My second thought ... well, I'll keep that to myself, but I'll tell you I hang on to that thought like a tether throughout my day.
This is called a brainstorming session in traditional journalistic circles, although the storm isn't particularly located in the brain and no good journalism comes out of this. Usually the end result is what you call a "column," otherwise known as "nonsensical garble" and/or "random thoughts, primarily about Angelina Jolie."
Of course, before we go any further, full disclosure: I also think about other things when I first wake up, like where I left my toothbrush the evening before and the whole drive-on-a-parkway/park-on-a-driveway thing. But yes. Ms. Jolie pops in my head, mostly because she has six children. And speaking as a parent myself, six seems like four or five too many to handle. How does she do it? Well, I was shocked to find out the answers.
Maids. Servants. Gobs of money. By all accounts, the mutant organism known as Brangelina is an involved parent, but with moolah like that, they can weekend in Cannes if they so choose, leaving the humdrum responsibilities like bedtimes and homework to be handled by the help. We mere mortals have only ourselves, spouses (or former spouses), parents, friends, relatives, God and after-school programs to lean on.
And, thus, we are left to our own devices. For instance, did you know you are not supposed to "drop a baby"? You have to feed them, too, and with food, according to some sources. And there is something called diapers that somewhat reliable research indicates could be utilized with these so-called babies. But what do I know? I'm just a dad.
And as we all know, "dad" stands for "dumb as bricks."
Of course, that would be "dab," but I'm not a teacher, just a parent. And parenthood is something you learn as you go, like brain surgery or piloting a jet. You know, something that is forgiving to failures. Understanding of mistakes.
And mistakes are sometimes what should be the very definition of parenthood. But only when it refers to other people. Because I never make mistakes. But you do. You are an awful person.
For instance, don't you have a child to attend to right now? Of course you do. But here you sit, reading this while doing a Google image search for "Angelina Jolie butt tattoo." Oh wait. Sorry. That's me doing the search.
No, you're the one reading this drivel, which is probably far more inane than searching for pictures of Angelina Jolie's butt. Well, maybe not, but it's a close call. You, dear reader, should be ashamed of yourself. You must cut yourself shaving a lot, for fear of looking at yourself in the mirror. But we should arrive, like a delayed flight, quickly running out of gas at 30,000 feet above the ocean, to the point.
Which is that, every morning when I wake up, my first thought always centers around Angelina Jolie and what she's doing at that very moment.
It's called parenting.
And parenting - even if you're Angelina Jolie - is a lot harder that the instruction manual will have you believe.
If you believe in parenting manuals, that is. Just remember that your unconstrained love is key in their development.
Oh, yeah, and don't drop the baby.