Shit That Doesn’t Count, Part 2

Ann Brown

By: Ann Brown

There are certain things that I know for sure, too. Sister Oprah isn’t the only one who can make that claim.

And here is one of the things I know for sure: in this world, some shit counts and some doesn’t. It’s not all fair and square in the universe.

Do you know what I mean? Like when the bagger at Safeway accidentally puts a party size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in your bag instead of the bag of the person in front of you in line and you weren’t planning to eat Cool Ranch Doritos, you’d never in a million years actually buy Cool Ranch Doritos, but there they are in your bag and the other person has already left the store – well, not so much left the store as that she has taken four steps towards the door – so, really, what else can you do but sit in your car in the parking lot and eat the entire bag?

You know, like that. You gotta surrender to the universe and eat the chips because They Were Meant To Be. And calories do not count if you didn’t actually intend to buy the food you wound up eating.

Yes, it is so true. It’s one of the immutable facts of life. Like, whatever you eat on an airplane doesn’t count as calories. Unless it’s during take-off or landing. Because of the altitude, I believe.

Or, eating two oversize bagels in the morning does not count as calories if you eat them only because you might have the nervous stomach runs later in the day when you have to go to the doctor to get that suspicious mole checked. Those bagels are proactive medicine. Ergo, no calories.

Or, if you are tasting food for, say, clinical research, you know, to correct the seasoning or decide if you want to eat an entire bowl of it, those calories do not count.

And this immutable law is not just about calories, either.

Sex at Jewish summer camp in the mountains does not count as sex. A person re-virginizes upon re-entry to the city. Again, it has something to do with altitude. And getting the bends.

Also, sex with an old boyfriend does not count as cheating on a spouse. It’s just, I don’t know, like finishing up, but a lot of years later.

Conversely, sex with your spouse does count as sex even if you are asleep during the entire thing and dreaming that you are a Habitat For Humanity townhouse and Jimmy Carter is nailing your floorboards to your foundation.

Sex with your spouse also counts even if you fake your orgasm and you practice finger crocheting on his back hair during his orgasm.

And sex with your spouse while visiting the Jewish summer camp in the mountains where you lost your virginity will result in a great story later. Especially if your spouse threatens to take your old boyfriend to the exact spot where it happened, put your old boyfriend’s nose in the spot, hit him on snout and say, “no! Bad!”

In parenting, there are a couple of “Don’t Count”s that you may want to note:

Saying “motherfucker cocksucking goddamn me in a pile of shit” does not count as swearing in front of your kids if one of them ate the last Skinny Cow chocolate mint ice cream sandwich and all that’s left are the gross peanut butter ones.

Telling your kid, “Your teacher sucks” doesn’t count as bad parenting if his teacher did not let you cut in line in front of her the previous week to get tickets for James Taylor. Or if she can wear a belly shirt.


Giving your kids Nyquil even though they haven’t been sick in over a year, but you really need them to take a nap because Carrie Fisher is on The View and you want to see if she’s gained the weight back yet, does not count as bad parenting. It’s just good sense.

What does count, and I cannot stress this enough, is taking six and a half hours to finish a post on your blog when you told your husband that you had very very very important PAID work to do in your office today and he needs to totally clean the house, make dinner and leave you alone.

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