it glitters, but it's not gold

So, the Homecoming Dance was this weekend. First was going with his girlfriend, so he just took a shower got dressed and left, but Second took HOURS to get ready, get her hair and shoes juuuuuust right; clearly this was a major frock opportunity. We were invited over to the house of one of the girls in her class in order to take photos. How precious are these kids gonna get, I ask you? I think I *may* have yelled "Bye Mom!" on my way out the door to my Homecoming dance, but perhaps my memory slips....

Anyway, photo calls seem to be de riguer these days, so I dutifully trundled off to the photo call, with Second looking picture perfect.

The house was, in a word, stunning. Total tract mansion, complete with two story family room, "communications nook" (bulletin board and a phone for us regular folks), and my least favorite home feature EVER - the refrigerator with a facing panel that matched the ones on the cabinets. The husband, fresh out of Greek mythology, was meticulously dressed from head to toe in that "oh, these are my casual clothes!" look the rich so carefully construct and execute. The wife, all Lily Pulitzer size 2 ass of her, was the requisite beautiful, coiffed, perfect. I only saw the bottom floor, but it seriously looked as if Pottery Barn had exploded in there.

It was a lovely house, it really was, and the host and hostess had made efforts to make sure everyone was comfortable. Plates of sliced calzones set out, nibbles, a selection of sodas and water bottles. I had an iced tea and did my best to be friendly and meet people. I finished my iced tea, and nonchalantly asked Mr. Host where they kept the recycling.

"Oh, just chuck it right here in with the rest of the trash!" assured Mr. Host, even pulling out the garbage drawer, with detachable bag insert, to show me how easy it was to just throw it away. But I couldn't. We recycle EVERYTHING here on the Homefront, and there was no way I was going to add one more can into that bag of mixed trash staring me in the face. So I deferred and said never mind, I would just take it home with me and recycle it myself. And he was not offended, but he was brought up short. He accused me of being "a real greenie, huh?" And I said no, but I didn't back down, either. He then got all "oh, now I feel guilty!" at me, and I told him, not forcefully, but well, directly, "I don't want you to be guilty, I want you to be different!"

That house does not look beautiful to me now. Not one bit. How can people in this town, in 2010, not recycle? There they sit in a million dollar home, and they simply could not be bothered to do one simple thing - recycle. Hometown has curbside, single stream recycling. How much easier does this guy need it to get? What can be the rhetoric he uses to rationalize this behavior? Does he think it's beneath them? Do none of the uber rich recycle? Is it somehow some sign of less than stellar wealth? Do they not want to offend the neighbors by putting out a less than stylish green recycling bin? I just don't understand it.

I don't want too, either. This town really is just one big high school after all, but I just don't wanna play their reindeer games anymore. Mr. Host, you and Mrs. Host are picture-perfect, and all shiny on the surface. But your ignorance and complicity make me so sad, and frankly, very, very tired. If you need me, I will be under the bleachers with the rest of the nerds like me. The ones that will be carrying water for the beautiful people like you for the rest of our lives. Shame on you.