Put Steph to bed a couple of hours ago and came back downstairs to finish up a recipe or two for the Exchange Cookbook, which I am co-writing with some awesome co-workers, and which is way behind schedule. When researching one particular twist got me frustrated, I dropped over to Yahoo!’s Launch website and fired up some streaming music videos in the background.
Holy crap, dude.
Found out that Lindsay Lohan — that precocious red-head who did a pretty good job of filling Hayley Mills’s shoes in Disney’s 1998 remake of The Parent Trap a few years back — is doing the “Disney girl” thing and has a record album out, and one of her music videos (Rumors) has hit the top of the various countdowns. Decided to watch it.
For those of you on slow connections, let me save you the trouble; Ms. Lohan has put out a video that pretty much leaves her marching squarely down the trail of rebellion, “strong woman” independence, and barely-legal sluttishness that Britney Spears has perfected to a tee. The song isn’t too bad — certainly better than Britney’s recent efforts — but it’s tired and trite.
However, I’m not writing to rant about yet another 18 year-old sexpot turning out crap music videos. What scared me was that I remember seeing Ms. Lohan for the first time in 1998. The Parent Trap was one of Treanna and Alaric’s favorite videos for a long time, largely because of Lindsay’s performance. She was a spunky kid, and when Steph and I saw Mean Girls earlier this year, I thought she’d managed to hang on to that wholesome appeal while growing up and making the transition to being a young woman rather than a kid. But I was still thinking of her as “that kid.” She’s not — she grew up, with a vengeance, and now she’s definitely proven (to me at least) she’s not a kid anymore.
I’m just old enough — and just enough of a parent — to want to yell at her to put some clothes back on already, dammit! Because Treanna is almost 8, you see, and Alaric is 6, and it wasn’t all that long ago they were watching Lindsay’s debut. They are growing up, fast. Treanna’s going to become one of those hotties overnight; Alaric is going to be noticing the hotties (and getting some notice back from them) all too soon. If I’m doing my job, they’ll have good heads on their shoulders and will be better prepared than most of their peers, but they’re still going to get to a point where I’m cheering from the sidelines.
Bah. I should go to bed.
Oh, yeah — hot damn, Boston, what got into you? As long as it wasn’t the Yankees, I suppose it’s okay (but don’t tell the guys at work I said that, because I’m going to get really sick of their boasting about the Sox over the next year. Imigrants to the Pacific Northwest are okay until their hometown teams win; then they become annoying), but give a guy some warning, willya?