Sorry, Wrong Number

Yesterday Sarcasm Girl received an invitation to enter the Miss Young American Coed competition--which is, in the immortal words of Candace Bergen in Miss Congeniality, "not a beauty pageant but a scholarship program." All you need to enter is send in your $20 and be ready to bring a formal gown "that brings out your natural beauty" and a business suit for the interview.

So the girl held the envelope in her hands, mouth open in a perfect demonstration of agog-ness (agogitude?). "WTF? What the hell are they thinking? Do They Know Who I Am?" And then she started giggling.

SG is, of course, beautiful, in that coltish, youthful, goony sort of way (she's going to be killer in a couple of years--spouse is polishing up his howitzer in preparation). But she is not the beauty pageant sort by a long chalk...she'd rather be IMing a friend about Sondheim lyrics than doing her hair. That's okay by me. It's busy enough being a stage mom, a little league mom, a karate mom, a Brownie mom, a guitar mom and a voice lesson mom. I have less than no interest in being a pageant mom. Emphatic Girl, of course, saw the brochure and was immediately intrigued....