Monday, December 5, 2011

The Three Wise Things

Our Christmas card last year.  Eves was going through a weird strange smiling phase. Every picture I look of her looked like this.  Love it.

I decided to adopt the Christmas policy that my best friend, Alissa, has created, for HER children, this Christmas.  She, also, has three daughters, and because of monetary concerns, and the fact that we both feel like our children have everything, and that we throw out or donate a ton of their cumulative junk every few months, we have decided to instill a new policy for Christmas.  It is as follows:

You will get three things from Santa and Mom and Dad (combined) this Christmas:

1.  Something you WANT.

2.  Something you NEED.

3.  Something you will USE.

Now, I don't know about YOU guys but each Christmas my kids get so much stuff (from us and Santa, and the grandparents and cousins)  that it is almost overwhelming to them.  Each year, I end up putting away some of the stuff for some snow day or rainy weekend afternoon because they could not possibly use and play with everything they get each Christmas.

But, make no mistake, I usually forget where I put everything and when I do, in fact, discover the stash, I end up regifting them for peer birthday presents throughout the year.  Bad Mommy foils the holidays AGAIN!

Anyway, this is yet another game I am running on my children this Christmas.  I like the fact that they have to actually THINK about what they really want, and not just give me a running daily tally of what fancies them after seeing some nonsense commercial or hearing of a friend's Christmas wish, or something.

If you guys can keep a secret, I'll tell you what I am giving my children, to illustrate my point.

Eves in my boots.  I love the look on her face.

Eva ( because she never gets to go first):

1.  Wants - American Girl Horse (she is obsessed with Horses right now. I have been making her play with Mills' old one that is missing a leg.  She has to lean it against the wall while she plays make believe.  When she complains, I tell her to play Veterinarian.)
2.  Needs - hat and scarf (would like to knit these, but I will probably buy them from Gap Outlet.)
3. Use - American Girl Stable (goes along with her horse obsession. Already purchased and received both, and then today she told me that the number ONE thing that she wants is a Tiger Webkinz in a tutu.  Niiiiccceee.)

This is Mills several years ago, horsing around during a Christmas card photo shoot.  I am sure I was yelling at her at some point.  And look how great this picture is!  Gawd, I've changed.  I am not even sure if I am going to get my cards out this year.  Maybe I'll just do an E-Card.  Mills says, "Whatever Mom! LAAAAMMMMMEEEE"

1. Wants - a turtle (she's not going to get one because she has killed every living thing that she has ever owned in a matter of weeks.  I got her the Project Runway Wii game that was number 2 on her list.  She knows better anyway.
2.  Needs - winter coat (I like Northface, and I like to buy them about four sizes too big - you know, in case of a growth spurt.  Even when it is passed down, it is too big for Eva for several years.  Genius.)
3. Use - Tetherball (Can't wait for the injuries, fights, and hopefully legal and medical bills of my own and neighboring children.  Good times.)

Hallie.  Last year at Christmas.  It was the last time she let me cut her hair.  It is a hot mess, now, let me tell you.  She has grown about a foot since then.  Eves is right beside me right now (as she ALWAYS is) and she asked who this was in the picture.  THAT is how much Hallie has changed.  WOW.  Mom moment.  Let it pass and publish your blog, for Pete's sake.

1. Wants - Pottery Barn Teen Duvet Cover (after she stole Brad's and my down comforter - guess what we are asking for for Christmas?)
2. Needs - boots (she wants the Ugg Turquoise button ones, SHHH, don't tell, she believes she is VERY fashion forward.  These will also be several sizes lager than her foot and will be passed down twice.  I am my Father's Daughter, people.)
3. Use - Dress form (aspiring designer phase, will be selling it on Ebay next summer.)

Now, I feel like I got rather large gifts for each of them so I don't feel a bit guilty.  The other bullshit, like, oh, I don't know , like the recorder Eva wants or the "anything Selena Gomez" request by Hallie can be handled by their grandparents or bought with gift cards.

What I am trying to do for you and your families is to take the fun out of Christmas and I hope that I am achieving that goal for you.  If I manage to make your children as miserable as mine will be Christmas Day, then I will have reached all of my Evil objectives. 

Seriously, this is a little late in the game, but I just LOVED the idea when Alissa shared it with me.  I don't know about you, but I can get manic and forgetful around the Holidays and then I have a basement closet full of impulse purchases for Christmas that they don't remember asking for, or no longer want.

I just like that this idea sets forth a criteria for them to follow so they don't waiver so much as they get closer to Christmas Day.  I mean, I remember Christmas being a day where I really, really wanted something and I either got it or didn't.  Wow, that just sent a pang of sadness down my spine.  Why didn't I get everything I asked for, WHEN I asked for it?  That is something I am definitely going to take up with my therapist.

I asked for ten sessions as my NEED category. (I figure that will keep me until my March birthday, when I can ask for more.) GAWD, I hope I get it, or else I am going to be sooooo DEPRESSED.

Seriously, Hallie, Mills, Eva, and Myself included had as their NUMBER ONE WANT on their Christmas List, a trip to see my best friend, Alissa and her three children, during Christmas break and we are going the day after Christmas.  Come to think of it, it is probably on Brad's WANT list, too, but he would never admit it.

I guess a second recommendation is to visit your best friend this Christmas.  There is no better therapy I can think of.

Peace (on Earth) Out, Peeps.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Holiday Hoopla and going out early

Last night, Brad's Forum Group had an outing at Shadowbox Caberet, which is a local theatre troupe, here in Columbus.  I kept making fun of the outing because the group is this business association where the topics are super confidential so I kept ribbing Brad about what we were supposed to talk about - you know, what is "safe", and what is "off limits".

"Are we all going to use fake names?  Will there be disguises?  I want to wear sideburns.  I think you should wear a fake arm so that one is longer than the other."

Brad was exhausted before we even got there.  The people (lets just call them "Forumers, cause some of them are farn -Oops there I go giving shit away.  Or am I?  Shhhhhhh.)  were really lovely and downright ornery, which I LOVE.

ANYWAY, The show was called Holiday Hoopla, and my takeaway (and everyone else's) was that the second act was soooo much better than the first.  It was almost like two shows.  During the first Act, I found myself bored and preoccupied, and imagining the home lives of all of the actors on stage.  The second Act, I was totally mesmerized, and into it and laughing out loud.

At first I thought that I no longer enjoyed the arts and had become one of those people who just pretend to enjoy things while they make mental lists and play scenario games.  Those people are usually labeled ADD and "well on their way to checking out".

I had a friend in college whose sister's husband used to say that "it is a matter of time before all women go completely bat shit crazy,"  he continued, "I think my wife is going to go out early.  I give her until age 35, 40, tops."

Well, I am well on my way to Crazytown.  Let me tell you.  Nomads wander less than my mind.  It is not a reaction to boredom, like it used to be, it has now become the norm in any situation where I am at rest.  I find this fascinating and disturbing at the same time. 

Anyway, this is going to be a short post, because my mind is starting to focus on several other things and I need to go do several of those things half-assed. 

My Christmas wish for you, today, is to go out and see some Christmas shows during the holidays.  It was quite refreshing and I felt like an adult again.  If you are local, and not my man in Portugal (thanks for the support, Holmes), the link to Shadowbox is  They have a new venue in the Brewery District that is super cool.  It is right next to World of Beer ( . 

Friday, December 2, 2011

Anything sparkly

I really like sparkly red toes for Christmas.  I do not paint the nails on my hands, but if I did, I would do some sort of cool nude color, like Jen Aniston always wears.  But, if you have good nails, definitely do THIS.

I also like to bring out my "Holiday wear" and wear my hair in different ways. Here are some ideas I found on Pinterest.   Lately, I have been thinking about wearing my sparkly gear in the daytime.  There goes that Freak Flag again, inching itself up to half mast.
This is probably my favorite.

Really cool.  My friend, Megan, sleeps in hers and wears it the next day.  LOVE IT.

Anthropologie has similar head bands to this. 

I know we have had extraordinarily good weather lately (in November), but I really like the fact that it has gotten cold.  I like getting out all of my gloves and hats and putting together new outfits.

The ones I have are red and orange.  I would take a pic but the kids are wearing them today.  They also have one big hole for the four fingers so they would be easier to knit.  I am sure I will research it and never do it.
I got these "arm warmers" in Colorado, when I was there at this little grocery store up in the mountains.  My kids call them "Tetherball gloves" because they have all of the fingers and the thumb exposed and they go all the way up the arm.

I am really into leg warmers, too - over boots, that is, not with a sweatshirt with the neck cut out and Capezios.  I don't mind reliving a trend, as long as it is done in a new way.  That is my rule.

The thinner ones are the best, I think.

Anyway, I decided that due to some stress that I have had lately, I am going to make the effort to dress better during the week, to try and lift my spirits a little.  I am going to paint my toenails Hooker Sparkly Red, an OPI color I have been lobbying for, and I am going to research patterns for hats, scarves and gloves on the internet that I will never finish - but I will start, of course.

Here are some cool sparkly items I found, I own a variation of the black one and am wearing in the pic above.  I got it last year from J.Crew on sale, and I really like the boat neck feature.  I think it would look cute with arm warmers because the sleeves are three-quarter length.  Maybe you will see me pumping gas in this get up some time.  I tend to be like that GD elf that I am sure will consume an entire Christmas post, if not several.  I turn up in unexpected places, in weird outfits, while I "spread mischief and holiday cheer."

This is just amazing.  Would be so cool with leggings and cool black boots.

I love this under a black blazer and jeans or with black Tuxedo pants and heels.

This is similar to the one I own.  Beware.  It is uncomfortable under a blazer.  I think it would be really cool with a bright scarf.

ANYWAY, my tip today is to get out your sparkles and wear them at unexpected times or in a way that you have not thought of before.  You only live once, my friends, so you may as well SHINE - even if it is at the grocery store.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Go Big or Go Home

Our Advent Calendar, purchased from Pottery Barn Outlet 10 years ago.

I decided that I would give myself a little challenge, because I do not have enough to worry about right now.  Actually, it is a distraction, more than anything else - as if my ADD mind needs that either.  Actually, it is my ADD mind that actually thought to do this challenge, so it all works out in the end, now doesn't it?

ANYWAY, I am going to give you guys a Christmas tip each day.  Sometimes they will be positive, but rest assured, most of the time, there will be recommendations, cloaked in suppressed anger, dripping with sarcasm, with just a sprinkling of veiled insults on the top.  You know, your usual post, just Christmas oriented.

I hope you enjoy it and I hope that you can use some of these tips and then credit me, beeeaaaccchees.

Okay, go big or go home.  Usually, the Advent Calendar is a huge pain in my ass.  I hate all of the crap I have to buy that the kids barely acknowledge, and then I step on it, and break it, after the kids leave for school.  To me, it has always represented the exploitation of a holiday, and commercialism at its very worst.  (Think Sweetheart day status).

However, this year, because of unforeseen circumstances, I have had to reconsider some of my Christmas cheer because of budget concerns.  I went out yesterday to find stuff to fill the advent calendar, times three, which can not only be daunting creatively, but financially as well.  I am always discouraged, too, when the kids frown after rushing to the location that is printed on the slip of paper that I slip into each numbered piece of cloth.  (See pic of advent calendar for explanation.)

I mean, I don't know about YOU, but I tend to try to put a lot of thought into the gifts that I give my kids, and when they take this effort for granted and disrespect the process, I tend to get very disenchanted, and then yell at them for not being grateful.

So this JOYOUS thing, that celebrates the countdown to the birth of Christ, is turned into this tense moment each morning where I anxiously await their response to their advent calendar gift.  Then an all out brawl breaks out if one or two of the three gifts is a different color or size.  Guidance tip: Make sure you specify which child gets which gift or, if you have multiple children, make sure all of the advent gifts are identical, to avoid this unpleasant scenario.

Maybe, YOUR children are entirely respectful, and would never think to insult their mother the way mine do, and just maybe your children are made of angel dust, and were brought to life by the shear will of your love, but I am willing to bet that you have all had similar experiences and luckily, for you, I am here to navigate the treacherous Christmas waters for you.

Okay, another thing I changed this year, is to tell the children that every 5th day, they will get a TOY in their advent calendar pouch, and in between they will receive inspirational messages from me.  Just kidding, in between they get candy or chocolate to start their day.

That way, I was able to spend more on those five (x 3) gifts and it gives them something to look forward to.  Also, that way (genius in my eyes) they will be more appreciative of each gift.  See?  In between, each gift they KNOW they will be receiving candy or chocolate, so there is no disappointment there.

I am not a total louse or sucker, (which is yet to be determined, I guess) because I got the candy that I am supplementing their Advent Calendar with, at my favorite local candy/lunch place, The Chocolate Cafe - (
Chocolate Cafe chocolate covered pretzels and "reindeer nose" cherry malted milk balls.  Yummy!

I go there because I LOVE the owner, and she is totally rill ( see post: for definition explanation) and today when I went there we had this great conversation about how Thanksgiving SUCKS and when I told her how all three of my children asked for Pizza Lunchables, 45 minutes after Thanksgiving dinner was over, she concurred that the actual dinner of Thanksgiving is a huge sham and that next year she is "just going to order pizza and be done with it."

I LOVE HER.  She is on my team.  You see, here is the THANG, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to buy from local small business owners who are in it like the rest of us - just trying to make a go of it, with a dream and hard work and the tenacity to keep things going, even in the face of adversity.  I am not gonna lie, though, it helps if they have my same cynical attitude, and they are able to laugh at the absurdities of life.

Okay, here are some examples of advent calendars I have in my house.  If you are dialing it in, this is for you.
Eves can't WAIT to get her paws on this chocolate each night.

 Actually, my sweet neighbors, The Youngs, provide each child on our block with this chocolate advent calendar every year.  Their children are actually in college, and yet they still spread their Christmas cheer to all of the young children on our street for no apparent reason but to give my children yet another reason to look forward to Christmas.

The picture above was taken post breakdown because Eva could not locate the number "1" that housed her first piece of advent delight.

My next picture is of Brad's hand-needle-pointed, yes, I said, HAND needle pointed advent calendar that his mother gave me (she did three of them) that I now use for our dog, Scarlett.  She must die a little death each time she comes into my house at Christmastime, and I don't blame her.

Elaine, our last dog, would stand below it for hours upon end, while drool pooled from each side of her mouth.  Scarlett did the same thing tonight.  AHHHH, Christmas memories.  You just never know where you will find them.

Poor photo quality, again. Who cares?

Okay.  Here are the gifts I purchased from Larson's, another local small business.  I'll let you know if they appreciate them, after this years' Advent Calendar Experiment.  I will try and provide video.

A great book and play, if you are able to see it.  Setting myself up for a huge disappointment.

Flashing light floating bullshit toothbrushes.  My attempt at being the perfect Mom.

Cute hairbands for all.   They look really tight fitting so they can all scream when I am doing their pigtails.  NIIICCCEEE.  Beauty hurts.

Bike horns.  Plan on stealing one of these, when they forget about them in the fray of Christmas.

Vera Bradley notebooks and pencils.  Did not get them at Larsons.  Two to a pack.  Gonna use the extra for myself, natch.

Magic worm bullshit.  I vividly remember playing with these for hours with my brother.  The girls will not like them, Fo Sho.

Gund critters.  Securing an argument and eventual breakdown by providing one that is not like the others.  Can't wait for the riot.  Intend on giving the white one to my "favorite child" which will be announced that morning before school.

Enjoy the Holiday Season, y'all!  Just KNOW that you are not the only one suffering disappointment and disillusionment this Christmas!  Just remember with the Advent Calendar - go big or go home, and try and build their anticipation by denying them their right to a gift each day.

Let's see if it works!  I'll keep you posted with my posts.  Wish me luck on having a daily post.  I am getting this first one out at 11 o'clock in the evening amidst the stomach flu.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

My dog, Scarlett, the F*ckstick

The girls take the best pictures of Fuckstick.

Lately, I have been using the word "Fuckstick," to describe various people that get on my nerves.  Mostly, I call my dog, Scarlett, Fuckstick, because she is so annoying.  I mean, I love her and all, but I am totally schizo on her ass, all the time.  One minute I am loving her and petting her, mostly at night and in the morning, but the majority of the time, I just yell at her and move her out of the way.

Somehow, Fuckstick has picked up on the notion that everyone else in the family has adopted, that if you bug me enough, you will get what you want from me.  Brad is the very instigator of this idea, natch.

Each night, Fuckstick sleeps with either Hallie or Mills, and EVERY night I have to have some sort of half-hearted conversation with the one who's night is not TONIGHT.  I think it's cute that Fuckstick takes up their whole pillow before they are able to get in bed.  She literally lays in bed with her head on the pillow like a people. (That is how we say it in my house, in HER voice, as in "I lika sit in the front seat like a people.")  She is so sweet at night and she can barely keep her double eyelids open. She is a Lab, and they have "double eyelids" to shield her eyes, when she is swimming, did you know that?
(Fun Fuckstick Facts, y'all.)

In the morning, she makes us all laugh, because her "reservoir" is full, again, and she is hellbent on destroying my day.  It's funny, at first, because Fuckstick will keep licking you until she gets her breakfast.  She even licks your pant legs.  It's odd and humorous at first, but then it just starts to annoy you.

Fuckstick uses licking as a form of aggression.  I have never seen anything like it.  If my daughter, Eva, is pulling her tail, she will lick Eva's teeth and tongue, and whole face until she falls backwards and does a back bend, and then she just stands over her, as if she is rabid, and continues to slather her with her newly acquired Butt mouth, until you have to turn away.  I mean, I am no Joe Pa, but I do ignore a lot of things that are unsanitary.

I love how she goes back for a last few licks.  Hilarious.

I guess, as a Mother, it should be MY responsibility to stop Fuckstick, but I have all but given up, and it allows me time before Eva starts bugging me about her breakfast.

Anyway, Fuckstick, usually eats her breakfast, outside by the garage, which I immediately shut once the kids walk to school, and she proceeds to terrorize every single person who dares to walk down our street.  You see, we are on the corner, so she sits out at the far edge of our yard so that she may have a full view of either street that is unfortunate enough to comprise our intersection.

She just sits there, like a Jeanie bottle, surveying the streets for unsuspecting dog walkers.  Most people know her by name.  I find it fascinating that children and adults, alike, will stop and kick the ball with Scarlett and call her by name, when I have never met them in my life.

I am painting a positive picture of Fuckstick, but now let me give you a glimpse into her dark side.  Sometimes, just for fun, if I let her out the garage/kitchen door, she will tearass across the yard, like Old Yeller at the end, bucking and attack barking, with her invisible fence collar swinging from side to side (it is supposed to be tight), and two tufts of hair will emerge along the spine of her back, and she will literally scare the shit out of some unknowing passerby, just for kicks.

One day, I noticed she had a young boy, who was innocently walking to school with his hoodie on, pinned up against my neighbor's bushes, afraid to move, across the street.  Even though they had a road between them,the boy was positively terrified.  Fuckstick was carrying on like she had discovered the Unibomber, and I literally thought he had peed his pants.

Naturally, I told him to put his hood down, so she would back off, but I ended up escorting him to the next block, after cajoling Fuckfstick inside, he was so shaken.  I guess Holmes will be taking another path to school after that episode. 

She did the same thing one afternoon to a new mother and her pram. I figured she deserved it for the shear reason that she even had a pram.  We do not live in pre-Civil war England, and prams last about two, three months tops.  To be honest, I am just a hater because I always had incredibly lame strollers that no one in their right mind would want to walk their babies in.

Actually, I have often fantasized, when I see some new suburban mom with her pram, of buying an antique pram, in which I would place some random piece of meat or a zuchini or something, dressed up in American Girl clothing with a face that I Magic Markered on it, only to have unsuspecting passersby, lean in, while I am taking a walk, and see their expressions on their faces when they discovered that I was pushing around a fully dressed legume.

This all stems from my fascination with street folk in large cities that do random things like that, that one would EXPECT, only I would be dressed to the nines, while I push my vegetable baby throughout the neighborhood.  I see street people as inspired, really, rather than damaged and mentally ill.  It is a fine line, mi amigos, a fine line, indeed.

I think applying "street people principles" to everyday suburban life makes for good entertainment.  Imagine the fun you could have on recycling day, when they find you curled up in a cardboard box along side your bin of bottles?  I could go on forever, here.

ANYWAY, this time,  Fuckstick broke through her invisible fence, only to stick her head in the stroller and slather the infant with sloppy kisses.  I seriously thought I was going to have a lawsuit over that one.  Luckily, she was traveling with a friend who was walking her dog, and her friend was able to calm the new Mom down, because she had not had children yet, so her dog was really important to her, so I assume, she saw Fuckstick as a sympathetic figure.

Here is a video of Fuckstick being told to get off of our bed.  Just to flip us the middle pad, she drags her back feet, which inevitably causes her schwina to rub across my (in this case) fresh bedding.  I have never seen a dog do this in my entire life, and I have to conclude that this is Fuckstick specific.  Feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

The first time she did this in front of Brad, he goes, "Oh my Gawd, did she just wipe her..." he stops himself, because some of the girls were in the room, and continues, "privates on our bed?"

The girls were roaring with laughter and I go, "Yea.  She likes to do it on your side the most."

Here's another one - with the bed MADE.

Yes, I actually MADE the bed, so that I could make a video of my dog wiping her schwina on our quilt.  What is wrong with that?  A lot of things.  Too many to count.  I think the making of the bed is the worst of them.

She only does this on our bed, and the only piece of furniture in the house that was made this decade, our couch in the basement.  (That's right, beeeattchhes, I'm all about the throw pillow and the paint colors.  Surprising?  I didn't think so.)  I would like to think that it is because they are both low to the ground, but who am I kidding.  This is Fuckstick we're dealing with here. 

Tonight, though, my daughter Mills said she was afraid that her friends would make fun of her, if she slept with Scarlett.  I immediately became defensive and asked her why she thought anyone would even THINK to make fun of her for sleeping with her dog.

Mills replied, "Because they might think that it is dirty."

My mind immediately went to the probability equation that one of her friends would know the ratio of dirt between our sheets and the dog, and then my second feeling was one of extreme protectiveness for Fuckstick.

That is how I know I deeply love her, and secretly think that the things that she does are amusing.

I retorted with, "Be your own person, Mills.  If sleeping with your filthy dog makes you happy, then your should shout it to the World."

Do you think she bought it?  She seemed to.

love it.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Dr. Donaldson - The Sequel

Before pic.  Hint:  I'm the one on the right.  No, YOUR right.
Okay.  So last week I had my "consultation" appointment at Dr. Donaldson's office (  To refresh your memory, see post  We had arranged a time, where I would literally walk through what a normal ("normal" being the operative word, natch) patient would experience during a regular consultation.  I had decided on the "Mommy Makeover".  This entails a breast lift, breast implants, tummy tuck, and liposuction.

Dr. Donaldson informed me that he did not coin the phrase "Mommy Makeover", a surgeon out of California did, but "it just stuck", and now everyone uses it.  Kinda like "Xerox," I guess.  ANYWAY, just because you request the Mommy Makeover, does not mean that you receive everything on the menu.  Think of the breast implants as the main course and the rest as side dishes, based up on your "condition".

For instance, MY rock star body only needed breast implants, and if I really wanted it, a mini-tuck. I guess what happens when you grow another life in your uterus, is that your muscles in your upper torso, separate, and they do not go back.  The good doctor demonstrated this by having me do a half sit up, (yes, I was still half naked) as he pressed his fingers in the crevasse that has developed between the first four muscles of my nonexistent six pack.  This exercise was both illuminating and humiliating at the same time.  Yet, another reminder of what used to be - kind of like my sense of shame, and the definition between my butt and the top of the backs of my legs.  During the measurement phase of the consultation, Dr. Donaldson declared that I was "a perfect isosceles triangle" and that they see that only once a month.  To which I replied, "Stiiiillll got it," which I don't.  That's the joke, get it?

Okay, before you start imagining what he is talking about, let me elaborate.  He was saying that my breasts were equidistant, with the center of my neck.  It was just so surreal.  One minute you are (what I like to think of myself) a reporter, and the next you are taking your top off and your subject is face to face with your naked body.  It reminded me of my "casting couch" days during my "I'm gonna go to Hollywood and be a star" phase after high school. 

He had me put on what he called "surgical footies" while he measured me.  Is this weird?

Standard Procedure
Next Dr. Donaldson is taking digital pictures of my bare torso, which I now understand is going to be used as blackmail when I become a big star.  Of course, that will be after I get my double D implants, that will rest on the table as I do book signings.

It's funny, because the night of my consultation, I went to a party, and I was relaying some of this material there, sort of like a comic might try a bit out in a nightclub - only we were in a basement playing foosball.  Who cares?  Same dif.  Anyway, as I recanted some of the events of that previous morning, I was met with expressions of horror, confusion, and amazement.

As I tried to explain, that this was "an assignment for my blog" and that it was all part of a "business proposition,"  it became abundantly clear that I had been duped by my business associate Marcy Fleisher (, of  "Risk free PR", my ass. 

I was so afraid of "whoring myself out" for my blog, to gain free shit, only to whore myself for the general  amusement of the masses.  Now, that, I can live with.  But, make no mistake, my standards are much lower than the average "reporter". Again, no boss, no defined job description or expectations.  Sooooo freeing!

Maybe that is my new hook.  I could just accept assignments in which I make a total ass of myself and then I can relate my experiences to all of you.  Gawd knows that I am running out of material in my real life.  Not really.  I have a million degrading stories in my lifetime to keep this blog going forever.  And the beauty is, that I am making bad decisions every day, so this factory isn't about to shut down anytime soon.

Seriously, I took this challenge, so that I may learn more about not only the industry of plastic surgery, but also the motivation a patient has to actually make an appointment, and then follow through with a procedure.

After my peep show with Dr. Donaldson and his nurse, (who was AWESOME, by the way - she let me poke her implants, but that was strictly clinical) we sat down and he showed me before and after shots of several of his patients.  I assumed these were his "success stories,"  as each of the transformations were truly life changing.

At first, I amused myself by imagining local celebrities, and those who consider themselves celebrities, as the naked torsos were presented to me, one by one.   But, then I just became mesmerized.

Genetics play a huge role in a person's aging process, and let's just be honest, some of us, were apparently dealt the Joker card, me included.  I was shown women who had lost a ton of weight and their bodies did not "bounce back" as they would have hoped.  I was given the privilege of viewing the bodies of patients who clearly make it their job to eat right and exercise like a crazy person, but their efforts were not reflected.  I can totally understand where someone would want to have actual breasts that would fill out their padded push up bra.  Think that chick (the obvious hold out) on Baywatch that was so flat chested you wanted to hug her. Growing her hair out was a major improvement, but I can't say that if I were next to Pamela Anderson and heroin addicted, Yasmine Bleeth, I might reconsider my boobs, as well.

Basically, each set of Before and After photos began to tell a story to me.  Not of desperate women who were trying to attract I don't know what (well, yes I do - douche bag men), but women who are using the technology that is available today to change something about themselves that has always, or in the last few childbearing experiences, bothered them to the point that they have become debilitatingly self-conscious.

Now, I am no fool.  I know that this is not the perspective of all of the plastic surgery candidates out there (read The Real Housewives of Whatever), it is just a point of view I had not considered before. 

It is interesting to note, that while Dr. Donaldson and I were having our sit down, I was wearing two different types of breast implants (saline and silicone) that were two different sizes.  I kept squeezing them as we talked, which now, looking back, would have been unnerving to anyone else, but not old Donaldson.  He wasn't phased a bit.  Respect.

They were HUGE, by the way, and I had not experienced THAT size since Hallie's, my first child's birth, when the La Leche representative recommended that I pump AND breastfeed.  Both Dr. Donaldson and his nurse agreed that that was the size that my "broad upper chest" demanded.  Subtext:  your actual breasts are halfway to your belly button, and what is left is a virtual empty apartment building in need of some tenants.
Okay, this is Eve's birth, but you get the idea if you multiply those puppies by like 10.

So, while I am feeling myself up and chatting with Dr. Donaldson, I, of course, accuse him of not being able to look at my face, and this would be the challenge I would be presented with, if I did, in fact, get implants, and that it was extremely important that people respect me for my mind.  He assured me that a lot of people with big boobs are smart, but when pressed to name one, he could only come up with Dolly Parton.  (That last line didn't happen at all.  Okay, I am a reporter who makes stuff up.  Unprecedented.)

Anyway, at the end of our conversation, Dr. Donaldson related that he is very proud of "the opportunity to change people's lives."  I then asked him if he had a God complex, because at that point I decided I would act like an attorney, as well, as a reporter, and he just laughed.  That haughty, elitist laugh of his, where he throws his head back, and bellows a deep, throaty, condescending laugh.  I'm embellishing, again, he just laughed like someone who thought I was ridiculous.

I have my OWN reasons for not getting implants, even though my chest (and my husband) is literally begging for them.  Aside from not wanting to endure the risks of surgery, I would have a hard time reconciling my decision to my three daughters, whom I am trying to instill positive body images.

Dr. Donaldson also has a daughter, and he fully relates to this issue.  When I asked him if, when his daughter were 18 years of age, he would allow her to get breast implants, he replied, "After examining the reasons WHY she wanted the implants...if the issue were say, that she did not feel feminine or something, then, yes, given the fact that she is eighteen, and is legally afforded the right to make her own decisions about her body, yes, I would consent to her getting implants."

I think everybody knows that eighteen-year-old girls are going to do what they set their minds to, with or without the consent of their parents, so if they bother to consult you at all, is a step in the right direction.

I am having a recovered memory of when I was a Freshman in high school and I was not allowed to wear make up  (I know, how Footloose of my parents, right?  I wasn't allowed to date, either.  I danced a lot, though.) .  Rather than sneak make up in my purse like every other girl my age, I decided to state my case to my Mother, who was the real driving force behind the ban.  My Mom felt that I did not need make up, and that it was just opening up this Pandora's box that would enable me to look like a dime store hooker every time I left the house.

My argument was that make up is used to enhance your features.  It doesn't have to be this face painting exercise that was going on in the Girls Restroom at Eastern High. 

My Mom did the right thing.  She took me to the Clinique counter at Lazarus, and bought me some powder, blush, mascara, and a very natural, demure lipstick. The associate taught me how to apply it, and it is a very fond memory of mine with my Mom.  (We tended to fight in Malls, mostly, so this one sticks out.)  I also got skin care, which is a ritual that I have used every night and morning since.  I am fairly sure one of the sets, either the make up or the skin care, was a free gift with purchase, but whatever.  It was a great memory for two reasons, really, because I presented my case, she saw my point of view, and she compromised. 

The bar is raised now, obviously, and we will be discussing implants and Restylane with our daughters, instead of skincare and eyeshadow.  My guidance today is to decide how you feel about plastic surgery and other "enhancement" products on the market, currently, so that you are prepared to intelligently discuss these issues with your daughters.  Whether or not, you choose to compromise or not, is your decision.  All kidding aside, I saw my job in these two posts, as a presentation that represented all sides of the argument.

Anyway, I got the implants, and I have never felt more confident.
Shopping for halter tops with my new boyfriend.  Who needs Brad, now that I have these knockers?

Monday, November 7, 2011

Sista Wivery

She hates that headband, but her Mimi and I make her wear it.  At the end of the day, it really is all about US.  When she complains that it is tight, I always tell her, "Beauty hurts."  And it does. 
There's just somethin' about a little girl in a tutu that gets me everytime.

I was going to do this post on free things you can do with your children, but now I realize that that is too boring and positive.  Instead, I would like to talk about sista wivery.  Sista wives are like Sister wives, only cooler, see?  My sista wife, Jen, who is also my manager, (what you think that is too enmeshed? Enmeshment is the very embodiment of sista wivery.  No boundaries, get it?) and I share our children every Tuesday and Thursday.  Mia and Eva are both four-years-old, and they attend the same pre-school class, go to the same ballet/tap class, and they engage in the same "afternoon enrichment program" - Munchin' and Movin'.  This is all done for the convenience of their Mothers' schedules.  They basically did not know each other before this year, and my sista wife and I, decided they should be friends and spend all of their free time together.  Again, who needs to be Mormon to be or have a sista wife?  Not me.  I just have adopted a lot of their priniciples surrounding raising children with another family.
Mia and Eves.  BFF's because we SAID SO!

My sista wife, Jen, sends me a text every Monday, that details my schedule, regarding the children and their social lives.  She delivers this from her lightening quick Blackburrry, and I do whatever she tells me to do.  No questions asked.  Here is an example of a text:

Mon: Jen to and from (this means preschool)
Tues: Eva here AM, Jen to and from
Wed and Thurs: Johnna to and from, don't forget ballet.
We need pumpkins for school. 
Pick us up 2 at GE SW.

Gratuitous Guidance: Wtf  is GE SW?

Jen: Giant Eagle Sista Wife!!

LOVE IT!!!!!!!

Luckily, our children all get along really well, I think, because WE are such good friends and our children reflect different aspects of our individual personalities.
Look at her, all up in my Bizzness.

 I am a stay at home Mom, and my forte is menial repetitive tasks. (I also am proficient in taking orders from people who drop their s's and cannot pronounce their r's.  Example:  MOOOOOOM, you were aposed to find my 'pecial 'tuffed aminal for Shaowww Day!) If there is any change in my routine, it must be documented and then regurgitated to me at least four or five times before I will get it.  The fact that Jen just sends me an electronic memo is priceless.  We are so past apologizing for being direct or worrying if one person has more responsibility than the other.

As a result, we each have two girls that have something to look forward to, socially, twice a week, and we are each afforded a free day, sans the cost of childcare, to do whatever we want.  Our carpool is rock star status, and I am enjoying more freedom than I have ever dreamed of this year.

Now, if I can just get my sista wife to move in and share the responsibilities of cooking and cleaning.  Who am I kidding?  We would just end up drinking coffee and then wine all day, while we watched E!

Anyway, this does qualify as "Free things you can do with your kids" - only you are the one who stands to benefit the most.  Who cares?  It's a win-win.

Go get yourself a sista wife.  The parameters are as follows:

1. You need to be good friends with the mom, so there are no annoying uncomfortable pleasantries exchanged.  It's all business.

2. I think the children need to be at least 4-years-old.  Otherwise you are babysitting, and that just sucks.  In that case, just stick to carpooling.  Let them socialize at wherever you are taking them.

3.  Resist the urge to hang out together. Get your shit done.  You can always hang out with each other and your kids because you are friends, and you will anyway.

4. At first Jen and I were planning on "outdoing" each other on our playdate days, by taking the girls out to lunch or to the Zoo.  This NEVER happenned and the girls are lucky if their chicken nuggets are warm and they get to "skip" in the parking lot on their way into school.  My point is, just treat your sista wife's kids as your own, and don't try and make a big deal out of things.  It is just wasted energy.  At that age, kids just want to play.  Let them, and go back to watching your stories.

5.  Make sure any extracurricular activities the children do are in tandem.  Don't break the chain.  If you start to introduce them to new people and interests, it will become more and more difficult to manipulate them.

Hilarious.  This is obviously going South.  I need to stop.

Obvious Guidance Statement:  Get yo'self a sista wife, Fool!

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Unhealthy Obsession #2

Unhealthy Obsession #2: The series Homeland  ( on Showtime.  Seriously, this is the best series I have seen since The Wire.  I know, Connie Stidham, that is a strong statement.  So, let me state my case before you go all Woodford-fueled, ape shit on me.

First of all Homeland comes on Sunday nights after Dexter.  Seriously, y'all.  I would choose Showtime over HBO in a heartbeat.  They just have better shows and better movies.  HBO hasn't really been good since The Sopranos.

Oh, and by the way, the season finale, and really the entire last season, of Entourage SUCKED.  There, now I feel better.  What a sellout piece of shit show. It just turns my stomach. Whatever happened to writers having a responsibility not to tie everything up into a neat little bow, so that people can feel good.  We didn't.  We all felt bad, because that is not the way life turns out.  Turtle doesn't become a millionaire.  Get real, Turtle ends up turning tricks for smack on Hollywood Boulevard.  That is real life. And THAT would have made me feel satisfied. But, hey, I am just one person.  Mine are obviously acquired tastes.

ANYWAY, Showtime has A-list actors, not celebrities,  but actual character ACTORS, that are headlining EVERY SINGLE ONE of their series.  They even have Academy Award winning actors as guest stars and in supporting roles.  Here is a line up of shows on Showtime that I adore:  Homeland, Dexter, Californication, Shameless, United States of Tara (see post: ) , The Big C, and Nurse Jackie, of course.

Gigolos is good for a laugh, if you are entertained by the stupidest men on the planet conversing with one another, while they glisten from baby oil. One of the gigolos' name is actually "Brace".

No, it is not scripted (if you believe reality T.V. does not have scripts), it is a reality show - and people, gigolos have real problems, just like the rest of us.  They are just are tan year round, and have whiter teeth.

Gigolos definitely has it's place in my heart.  It is also extremely kinky, almost embarrassingly so - I am blushing a little just recalling some of the content, as I recommend this to you.  Let me just leave you with this, I had no idea executive assistants and paralegals had such large disposable incomes. I guess it's all in the budgeting, really. 

Oh Gawd, I just realized that with my readership base, I have just done a post promoting Gigolos, and not my favorite show, Homeland.  NIIIICCCCCEEE. Oh well, I can just do what I do here, what you choose to take away from my art is your own business.

Back to Showtime and their stellar lineup.  I think that House of Lies looks really enticing.  It's debut season begins in January.  It features Don Cheadle, who I am a HUGE fan of.  Shameless is headlined by William H. Macy and Emmy Rossum.  It just aired it's first season, and it is uniquely unapologetic. 

Homeland is on its 5th episode and I am positively obsessed with it.  I have actually caught myself wondering about character arcs and developments, while I am driving the kids around.  I have loved Claire Danes since My So-Called Life.  She had a little personal hiccup, when she took up with Billy Crudup (of Almost Famous fame) who had impregnated Weeds' (also on Showtime) star Mary Louise Parker, just a short 8 months before that.  She is now married to Hugh Dancy, who is British and HOT, and she seems to be on the right track with this series called Homeland.

Homeland is about Carrie Mathison (Danes), a bipolar FBI agent, in the anti-terrorism unit.  During her assignment in Baghdad, she caused an International incident, when she infiltrated a prison to extract intelligence information from an inmate and source there, and the last words he said to her as she was being dragged away by guards were, "An American Prisoner of War has been turned."

Fast forward to Marine Sergeant "Nick" Brody (played to perfection by Damien Lewis), is discovered in an underground prison in Afghanistan.  After eight years of captivity and torture, he returns home to two teenage children he does not know, and a wife who was just recently having an affair with his best friend.

Carrie (Danes) is convinced that Sgt. Brody is hiding something and may very well be the "turned P.O.W." described in Baghdad.  This series tackles so many issues that one would think that the viewer would get lost in the detail, but the characters are so believable and vulnerable and human, that although Brody may be a budding terrorist, you actually find yourself empathizing with him. (Listen, I would NEVER normally find a terrorist sympathetic, you just aren't convinced he is one.)

Homeland is a thriller in every sense of the word, as it presents you with each piece of the puzzle, accompanied each piece's opposing sides, and the emotions and situations that can blur a person's definitions of right and wrong. 

And when Carrie (Danes) breaks about a hundred laws by running her own personal surveillance on the most intimate and heartbreaking moments between a family that is trying to acclimate to their new broken situation, you are rooting for her, even though she is admittedly bipolar and prone to obsessive compulsiveness.

The back stories of each of these characters are fascinating and realistic and the series, itself, just makes for good storytelling, while tackling modern issues like The Patriot Act, torture, and corruption and politics within the military and governmental agencies like Homeland Security.

This is a suspenseful, intelligent, and well written and acted piece of material.  Give up your usual stupid reality show one night and give it a try.  All of the episodes are ON DEMAND and it's not too late to catch up!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Pinterested Much?

Love this.  So Free.

My three latest obsessions are the website Pinterest, the Showtime Series "Homeland" (, and free meals or free things you can do with your kids (

Let's start with the website "Pinterest"( My friend, Cindy ( , calls it "the biggest time suck of the moment," and it is.  First of all, I LOVE that they have to "invite" you to the site, which, of course, implies elitism, which I am a BIG fan of.  The fact that you have to be "invited" must be some sort of marketing ploy, because I am fairly sure that they do not do a background check, because if they did, I would have been turned away, natch.

ANYWAY, enough with my sordid historic dirty laundry, what's COOL about Pinterest (, is that it is NEW, and it has not been tainted by social media, YET.  It is on the verge, though, just waiting to be discovered by big business and advertising.  I just love that moment in "The Social Network" where Mark Zuckerbergs's (played by Jesse Eisenberg) business partner, Andrew Garfield (played by Eduardo Saverin) is pushing him to put advertising on "The Facebook" (, and he says, "No, we don't want to do that yet because we don't know what it is yet."  His partner responds, "Well, what is it then?" And then, the character playing Mark Zuckerberg says, "We don't know what it is yet.  It's just COOL."  That is the stage at which Pinterest is now.  It is just COOOOOLLLL.

It's funny because social media has become a necessary part of everyone's individual and business public relations strategy. Don't you find it astounding that what started out as a deranged college prank is now a cornerstone of marketing for everyone?

ANYWAY, I digress, AGAIN.  So, I was going to write about my three last time-sucks, but now I am realizing that they can EACH take up an entire post.  Yea for me, and you, I guess.

Pinterest ( is SOOO awesome.  You can surf it without signing up, but the social marketing element, I realized, is in the REPINNING.

I find it really funny, though, that I tend to find the things that my friends pin, the most "pinnable".  Wait, I need to stop here, I just got a text that I got repinned.

What's cool about Pinterest, is that it is more interpersonal than Facebook (  It has the "Like" button, but if you "repin" someone, it is more of a sign of respect.  Pinterest ( is about ideas that other people find interesting, whether it be art, music, recipes, interesting rooms, or ideas for a child's birthday party.  If someone compliments what you find intriguing , then, they are, in part, applauding what is in your soul.

I guess it will get to the point like Facebook ( has, where people will engineer the pictures or messages that they want others to believe about them.  But, for now it seems PURE, and it seems to support only feelings that people have about certain subjects, whether they originate a pin, or repost something they find interesting.

It just goes to show you that images are very powerful.  As much as I love the written words, sometimes there just ARE no words to describe something.  Like this, for instance.

I mean, they look really difficult to walk in, too.  Random.  Who thinks up this shit?  I know who reposts it, though.

What is also great, if you happen to own a Mac, is that you can just drag an image into IPhoto and share it with other people.  Like this.
How effing cool is this?  And so warm.

Love display o' liquor ideas.

This is for you, Mom.

Reminds me of Mills.

My dream house in Colorado.

My friend, Megan, turned me on to searching for improper and sometimes just downright filthy subjects, like beastiality, or penis envy.  Here's what came up.
The ONLY thing that came up.  Disappointing, really.

The caption reads, "Penis bush".  Hilarious.

How weird is that?  But, at the same time hilarious. I plan on putting this under "Inspired Ideas".  I mean, I am DYING to post this on Facebook (  Can you imagine?  Just posting this picture, and then adding the caption, "Penis bush is in full bloom.  Ahhh, I just love Spring."

But, then again, who needs Facebook (, when you have this blog, right?

My advice to you, today, is to get on Pinterest (, and follow me.  It is one hundred times better than Twitter, in my eyes.  I won't steer you wrong, I promise.  My social networking plan on Pinterest ( is to thoroughly entertain you without saying a word.

Enjoy the recesses of my brain, y'all!  Bring a flashlight.  It's dark in there.