Suburgatory (8 page)

After Ballante consumed several drinks, she lost her inhibitions with the young men, whom she believed secretly found her attractive. “Come on, you know you want more than one wife. Admit it! I'd totally be a sister wife if I could have
Bill Paxton! But not that creep from
Sister Wives.
” Ballante was referring to the polygamist husbands on the HBO show
Big Love
and the TLC program
Sister Wives.
She gets most of her knowledge about the Latter-Day Saints from the shows, and more recently from what she's read about the Broadway send-up,
Book of Mormon.

Berkeley, as the more senior missionary of the two, handled the polygamy question. “Ma'am, our Church disavowed polygamy more than a century ago. While there are some fringe groups who continue to practice polygamy, they do not represent the people or beliefs of our Church in any way, shape, or form. I will have one wife, and we will be together with our children forever.”

“Holy shit, you are so adorable,” Ballante said. “Alright, alright, alright. But you need to at least give me something,” Ballante said, leaning in closely to the young men, who were visibly apprehensive.

“Show me your magic underwear. We read this book in book club about crazy Mormons and they were talking about magic underwear.”

Mabry cleared his throat and said, “Ma'am, they are temple garments that we wear at all times to remind us of our sacred covenants. Other religions like Judaism also include special garments in their faith.”

“Jeez-us, you guys are all God and no fun. It's gonna be a long long life for you two if you don't loosen up. Trust me on this,” Ballante said.

After leaving the home for the day, Berkeley said, “You know, the thing that kills me the most is that she is so pathetic that she sits around day after day with a couple of twenty-year-olds and she thinks WE are the freaks.” Mabry nodded in agreement. Ballante confirmed this impression. “Yeah I love those boys, but of course they're freaks. They're Mormons knocking on doors! If that's not a freak, I don't know what is.”

So why do Mabry and Berkeley keep going back if they feel both offended and hopeless at their chances of getting Ballante baptized? “Oh, I don't know, maybe because I'm-With-Stupid?” Berkeley said, gesturing to Mabry. “Case, like an idiot, let it slip to our Zone Lord [the mission supervisor] that this woman loved us and now they are convinced they have a golden.” “Golden,” they say, refers to an easy conversion target.

Mabry added: “I don't even want her at this point even though we look like rock stars if we get her dunked [baptized]. I don't give a fudge about her or her soul—but if she becomes LDS and has a
celestial marriage, then that poor guy she's married to and that kid she totally, completely ignores, are going to be stuck with her for all Eternities.”

Ice Cream Man Assaulted
Because He's the Ice Cream Man,
“Not Because He's Muslim”

Suburgatory, USA—The dads who admit to the harassment and second-degree assault last month of Egyptian-born ice cream man Suleiman Rahman insist they did not attack Rahman because of his faith, but because he's the ice cream man. They also say he is a “possible perv,” a “rolling extortionist,” and a “kiddie-poison pusher.” But they claim they have no problem whatsoever that Rahman is a Muslim, and argue this incident, which involved pushing and yelling, does not fit the definition of a federal hate crime.

“That's straight-up slander!” said Mark Watson, one of the accused parents. “We aggressively suggested the ice cream man leave the school parking lot last month because we are fed up with him and all the problems he causes, following families all over town, ruining every nice event!”

Janet Maroney said Rahman's truck arrives just as the kids begin playing soccer, making it impossible to keep the kids on the field and forcing parents to bring cash to every game. “I feel like every time I see that stick-up truck headed for me, I can kiss five bucks goodbye unless I want an epic meltdown. Then if a friend forgets her cash, I say buh-bye to ten bucks.”

Jodi Keyes wishes she could say no when the ice cream man arrives but doesn't want to look like a “joy-sucking cheapskate” or one of those “granola moms.” Peggy Davies is proud to call herself a “granola mom” and even she can't resist buying her kids what she calls the “frozen death on a stick” with “neon gumball eyes.” “Yes, I'm granola, but I hate a tantrum just like the rest of you,” Davies said.

Others alluded to what they see as a corruption of this classically American institution. Some who asked to remain anonymous thought Rahman was “a Gypsy or something” and mourned the days when ice cream trucks were manned by “wholesome teenagers” and not “old possible pervs who don't even live in town.” One wondered, “Does he sleep in there?”

Parent Roger Jackson asked, “Have you heard that toy piano tune his truck plays? It will seriously haunt your soul. It's like Satan on four wheels.” And these feelings have nothing to do with the fact that he's a Muslim? “I said
Satan,
not
Osama,
didn't you hear me?”

So what does Rahman say about the incident? “In 2002 I was held for three months by the Egyptian secret police. You think these homosexual-looking men scare me?” After some cajoling, Rahman admitted that he didn't think town residents hated him because he's a Muslim, even though his lawyer is pursuing a hate crime charge. “I don't think they even knew what I
was
before this happened. I think they just thought I was the poor brown stranger taking their money and annoying them with my tempting and delicious ice cream. They blame me because they can't say no to their spoiled-rotten children. So no, I don't really think they hate me because I'm Muslim. But I couldn't really blame them if they did. Because I definitely hate them because they're American.”

Wolf Blitzer—
Live From the Lactation Room

Suburgatory, USA—This is Wolf Blitzer. And you're in . . . the Lactation Room. We have a situation developing in the Lactation Room at the Unum Provident office building today, as two mothers battle over their degree of virtue and commitment to pumping breast milk for their babies.

Jill Branson is trying to convince Susan Markle to “tough it out,” “don't be a quitter,” and “remember all the troubles formula-fed babies have,” as Susan struggles to produce enough breast milk. For those of you unfamiliar with the process—as I was before I discovered this oasis of feminine splendor—working mothers use electric pumps and then store their breast milk for their babies to drink later. We go to the fight playing out live.

Jill:
Breast-feeding for me has been excruciating, bloody, and by far, the most important and life-fulfilling job I've ever had. I know it's a gift that I'm able to do this. Susan's wavering commitment is an insult to those who can't breast-feed at all, even though most women can, if they try hard enough, and
care
enough.

Susan:
Like Wolf? He can't breast-feed. What if he was a gay man? He and his husband couldn't breast-feed.

Wolf:
Ladies and gentlemen watching out there at home, to clarify, I am not gay.

Jill:
Well, gay Wolf and his partner could get donated milk. I'd donate to them! But really, I'm most interested in women and what women are capable of doing.

Susan:
Of course you are! Wait, you think people would just take your milk, no questions asked? Isn't that like letting your kid have unprotected sex with a stranger? Hey, why is Wolf Blitzer in the Lactation Room with us?

Wolf:
Because I'm a breast man. I told you I wasn't gay.

Jill:
Wolf, my breasts are for my
baby.

Wolf:
Sorry, Jill. I'm not made of stone.

Jill:
Well, anyway, I nursed through multiple nipple cracks and nipple psoriasis, thrush, a kidney infection, an abscess, a shattered elbow, major surgery with my first son, and a ruptured appendix. I don't think
anything
can stop me from breast-feeding. I willed every last damn drop out of my body.

Susan:
Why don't you take up another kind of competition that will pit you against other women, like a marathon? Women's roller derby? Probably get some gore there to brag about, too.

Jill:
I'm not competing with you! I just want what's best for
your child!

Susan:
You don't even know my last name! THAT'S IT! I'm going up to the roof to SMOKE. Did you hear that, Jill? Going to report me to protective services? Michelle Obama?

Wolf:
While the First Lady is a vocal supporter of breast-feeding, I should note that the President himself struggles with smoking.

Susan:
WhatEVER Wolf, what are you really adding here?

Ladies, I will add that, like the First Lady, I'm also a big supporter of breast-feeding whenever and wherever a beautiful, luscious, ripe new mother chooses to do so. And if you're done pumping, my work here is done. I'm Wolf Blitzer, and you've just been in . . . the Lactation Room.

Mom Unaware of Two American Wars

Suburgatory, USA—An area mom is unaware of two American wars fought over the last ten years.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” asked Carol Stewart. “And I can't talk for long, I've got Tommy's soccer pickup at 3:30 p.m., have to swing back and pick up Sarah from Mindy's house, then get all of us to the store. Jesus, that sounds like absolute hell, doesn't it?”

This reporter explained to her that 9/11 had led to a “war on terror” that still has US servicemen and women in harm's way in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Had she heard of 9/11? “Now that is extremely insulting. In fact, 9/11 touched me close to home. I actually saw it happen. Live. They pre-empted
Regis and Kelly
for it. So just back off with the ‘hey-ignorant-Mommy' line of questioning.” Arriving at the soccer field, she said, “Get in the van, Tommy.
No.
You've had enough ice cream. No.
Now.
”

But is she aware that the United States went on to fight two wars after that?

“Here's what I know. I know that we went into Afghanistan, found the smoking gun mushroom cloud WMDs, thank God, did that amazing rescue of that adorable blond soldier girl—poor little thing. Then Seal Team Six got al-Qaeda's top guys—Saddam, bin Laden, Qaddafi. Then George W. Bush did that whole thing on the boat with the big
We Won!
sign, and Axles of Evil were finished. See? I know a little something about something besides Mommying.” She looked satisfied as she retrieved Sarah from her playdate. “Thanks, Mindy. Did she behave nicely, I hope?”

As she headed to the store, this reporter told her that major combat did
not
end with the
Mission Accomplished
sign, and in fact had gone on for years, costing a trillion dollars. She was still quite dubious.