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Poetry and snark blogger who also has a creative side (who knew?)

Friday, December 31, 2010

New Year Wishes

Orgasm In a Jar

No, this post is not about the private goings-on in my bedroom, so sorry to disappoint you! I can't even begin to fathom what you thought a "jar" had to do with my sex life, you sickos! No, this post is about food, which, like sex, is one of my favorite things when done well!

For several years while completing my graduate degree, I lived in South Carolina. Aside from the heat, which made you feel like you were living in Satan's armpit, the abject poverty, the ignorance and bigotry ("Do you Jews celebrate Thanksgiving?"), and the backassward school system (morning prayer over the PA system and a big paddle in the principal's office called the "Helping Hand,") it was a lovely place to live. I did grow quite fond of the food, too fond, as a matter of fact. If I had stayed in SC, I'd probably weigh over 200 pounds by now, in addition to having lost several of my teeth and having "big hair" (shudder). Ah, but the food...You can take the girl from the pulled pork, but you can't take the pulled pork from the girl! Or the mac and cheese, or the sweet tea, or the corn bread, or the banana pudding...pardon me, I'm drooling.

Anyway, this brings me to last night's dinner at Clyde's Tower Oaks in Rockville, MD. Clyde's has always been a favorite restaurant for our family, but it has now been elevated to mythical status in my heart and mind due to one appetizer that I have dubbed "Orgasm In a Jar." This beautiful concoction of ingredients perfectly melds several of my all-time favorite Southern foods into one compact package. There is nothing the least bit nutritious about this dish. It probably contains enough salt and fat to kill an ox, but I worship the person who said, "Fuck it! I'm going to make on ode to Southern gluttony and calories be damned!" It's a good thing I don't live closer to this restaurant because I would eat one of these every day. Behold its glory.

This sinful beauty is comprised of fried onions, cole slaw, pulled pork, corn bread, and macaroni and cheese, all packed into a mason jar. Put some hot fudge and whipped cream on top of that baby and I'd never have to eat anything else in my life (except maybe bacon and french fries!)
To those of you out there who are thinking, "OMG, how could she possibly eat all of that?" I have your answer. Easily.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Based Upon a True Story (part 2)

(the 2nd and final installment of the greatest story known to man, woman, and perfect princess-for part 1, see previous post)
co-written by my beautiful, one-of-a-kind, frabjous, goddess-like daughter Allison (Temari)

At last the Christmas feast had arrived. The dining hall was adorned festively with pine boughs and holly wrapped in red and green ribbon. Everything was perfect. The family had just begun to take their seats when Princess Temari ran in to announce the arrival of their newest guests. "The trolls are here...again," she stated flatly. As if on cue, the trolls burst into the room, happily oblivious to the others' discomfort. "Oh it's so...good to see you again," Princess Lolamouse chirped. "Do join us." "I hope you didn't come for the gingerbread, I doubt there's any left," SteeDee muttered. The trolls wobbled over to the table and plopped down in the empty seats across from Princess Temari, much to her chagrin.

"Have I told you about the new boards I put on the bridge?" asked Papa Troll. "Yes," groaned Princess Temari, for the third time that evening. "Well they really are spectacular. They're made of a new composite material. You should come by and see it some time." The next remark was directed at Prince Luke Warm, M.D. "What are your castle floors made of? I could replace them if you want." "Yeah," Prince Luke Warm, M.D. said, clearly not listening. "Speaking of flooring, did I tell you I'm having my fangs sharpened? That's why I can't eat anything," babbled Gramma Troll. "And last week I had my hump enlarged, and before that..." "Tomorrow I'll be replacing the ropes on the bridge. I could use what's left to replace the ones on your drawbridge," interrupted Papa Troll.  "Did Luke Warm ever tell you all about the time he saved the king's life?" bragged SteeDee. "He's sooo smart." The princesses couldn't help but notice Deven looking utterly dejected.

"How about dessert?" asked Princess Lolamouse, hoping to change the tone of the evening. "That sounds great! I wish I could eat it!" clucked Gramma Troll. "Is there even any dessert left?" SteeDee grumped. "Deven's been eating nonstop!" Princess Temari entered the dining hall bearing trays of exquisitely prepared delicacies. "It looks so good!" Gramma Troll exclaimed. "I really wish I could eat it!" "Well, why did you schedule your fang sharpening for this week? That wasn't too bright," Papa Troll teased. With that, the trolls began bickering loudly over everything. Prince Deven reached for some gingerbread but was stopped by SteeDee. "Are you going to eat more cookies?!!" "Yes, hers are better than yours anyway! Eating cookies makes me happy! What's your problem with that?!!" Deven yelled. SteeDee looked as if she had just sucked a large lemon. "I just want my sons to be happy. I won't come here anymore if you're just going to treat me this way!"

While the family feud raged, Prince Luke Warm, M.D. had slipped away unnoticed. Suddenly, he burst back in to the dining hall and exclaimed "Horrible news, folks! The astrologer just read on her Starpad that the castle is about to be attacked! We're all in terrible danger!" Though it seemed impossible, more chaos erupted. Desserts were left unfinished, chairs were flung aside as the Christmas feast guests rushed to make a fast escape. Within minutes, the guest were gone.

"Should I get the swords?" Princess Temari asked eagerly. Prince Luke Warm, M.D. chuckled, "There's no need for weapons. I made the whole thing up! I thought it would get them out of here fast. Merry Christmas!"

Princess Lolamouse smiled brightly. "Can we invite my family for New Year's?"

Based Upon a True Story (part 1)

 Co-written by my fabulous, wonderful, and utterly flawless daughter Allison (Temari)

Once upon a time there were two princesses, both shining examples of consummate perfection. Unfortunately, the rest of their family was not, and this family was coming over to the castle for a Christmas feast. The princesses toiled away for days preparing for the family's arrival until all of the food, decorations, and entertainment were nearly as perfect as they were. Princess Lolamouse had only just finished an intricate plating design with the gingerbread when her husband, Prince Luke Warm, M.D., obliviously thrust his hand in the middle of it to snatch up a reindeer. "That was for company, dear," squeaked Princess Lolamouse. "Mmpfpmfpfm," he said around a mouth of crumbs.

Suddenly Princess Temari ran in, a look of urgency and disgust gracing her perfect features. "Sister, sister, " she cried. "Deven and SteeDee are here!" Princess Lolamouse groaned. Why her husband had insisted on inviting his brother and stepmother she would never understand, but being the supportive and perfect princess that she was, she accepted it graciously. Princess Temari opened the castle gate and warmly welcomed Deven and SteeDee. As she attempted to bestow a hug upon her step grandmother, she was promptly ignored as SteeDee flew past her to complain to her son the doctor. "This was such a miserable trip! That carriage was so bumpy! I'm not coming next year! I'm not getting any younger, you know! And that boy nearly got us lost 3 times-he couldn't steer a horse to save his dear mother's life!" Prince Deven, looking haggard, trudged into the castle rubbing his temples. "She didn't shut up the whole trip. I'm going to take a nap." And he disappeared into the castle dungeon for the rest of the afternoon.

SteeDee gave an exaggerated sigh. "I think he sleeps way too much!" The princesses exchanged a knowing glance, sensing that their perfect serenity was about to come to an abrupt end.

That evening the family gathered for a glorious repast made much less glorious by SteeDee's constant harping upon Prince Deven to find a more stable job. "What happens when the king tires of mimes? Then what will you do, hmm? I always insisted that my husband have a steady, reliable job, and I'll tell you, he made a fine tailor!" Prince Luke Warm, M.D., in a vain attempt to distract Deven from SteeDee's insults, said, "Deven, I'm having a horrible time getting the trees in my orchard to grow. Perhaps you could give me some advice out in the garden?" Prince Deven replied, "No need to go outside, bro. I already know what the problem is. You're trying to grow pear trees in soil that isn't right for them. What you need are apple trees! They'll grow like weeds!" SteeDee, never one to drop an issue, squawked "Well, if you know so much about apples, maybe you should sell them for a living!" "Yes," said Deven. "And after my first day of work, I could go home and throw myself in the moat." He then grabbed several pieces of gingerbread and returned to the dungeon. "Watch how many cookies you eat, Deven! You're getting fat!"

The next morning the princesses entered the dining hall to find SteeDee on another endless tirade. Prince Luke Warm, M.D. was nodding along to appear sympathetic. " no sleep at all! Deven and his lyre had me up all night! He was up way too late! That boy doesn't sleep enough!" The princesses made a prompt exit without comment.

Later, at lunch, the dysfunctional family sat around the table; only Deven was missing. "Is that boy sleeping again?" SteeDee whined. "I swear, all he does is sleep!" Just then, Deven ascended from the dungeon to grab more gingerbread. "I'm glad you like the gingerbread, Prince Deven," Princess Lolamouse exclaimed. "SteeDee told me it was your favorite." "Yes, they're really goo-" "Are you eating more cookies? Save some for other people!" SteeDee interrupted. Deven sighed and slumped back to the dungeon.
To Be Continued...

Monday, December 20, 2010

2 Giant Microbes, and a Box of Penis Shaped Pasta

There's less than a week left until Christmas, and I know some of you out there are panic stricken because you haven't completed your holiday shopping yet. Well, fear not! Lolamouse is here with a list of gifts that, although they may not arrive by Christmas (I view deadlines as mere suggestions), will be well worth the wait for the memories they create. It's always a joy to me when I behold someone opening my gift, see their eyes widen, and hear the gasp in their voice as they say, "My! How... inappropriate!"

Books are always a lovely gift for anyone of any age. A charming little book to help children learn the alphabet, as well as avoid some of the dangers of life, is The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey. Set to a sing-songy rhyming patter, The Gashlycrumb Tinies recounts the hideous deaths of 26 alphabetically ordered children from various ailments, accidents, and assaults. A perfect addition to any child's library.
Remember the Sally, Dick, and Jane books from grammar school (those of us who are of "a certain age)? Remember how dull and mundane they were? Well, Sally, Dick, and Jane are back but their stories are new and improved! Meet Dick and Jane and Vampires! Never too young to be introduced to the sexy vampire genre, this reading primer adds some much needed intrigue and foreboding to the first grade reader. Makes for great bedtime stories!


Stuffed Animals

They're infectiously cute!

Known around our house as "plushies," stuffed animals are always a good "go to" gift for the holidays. What? You think plushies are only for little girls? Then you haven't seen Giant Microbes! Giant Microbes are stuffed animals that look like tiny microbes, only they are millions of times bigger and have faces! They come in different varieties, such as Health (flu, common cold), Calamities (anthrax, mad cow), Critters (bed bug, dust mite), and Venereals (herpes, syphilis). Need a last minute teacher gift? How about a head louse or H1N1?  Something for your mail carrier? How about anthrax? Bet he'd get a real kick out of that! The possibilities are endless!
 What do you do when your daughter asks for an indie comic strip character plushie that doesn't exist? Most normal parents would just explain that it isn't possible. But, those of you who know me know    that I'm anything but normal! Thus, we have Frupert. Frupert is the teddy bearish character from the defunct cartoon strip Pink Chickens. Read this cartoon and you will begin to understand my warped psyche just a bit better! 

There will be no ugly Christmas sweaters found under the tree at my house. There will, however, be some uber-cool T-shirts! Here is one that my family got for me for Hanukkah this year. It's from Hyperbole and a Half, one of my all-time fav blogs. I've written about my neurotic need to clean, clean, clean before a vacation (Dirty Thoughts), so this shirt is the perfect gift! There are more at Allie's store on her blog-check her out; she's hilarious!

Nothing says "I'm well read" like wearing poetry on your chest. Especially nonsense poetry from      Lewis Carroll. Justin Hillgrove's Jabberwocky T-shirt will guarantee that people will be   staring   quizzically at your chest! Who wouldn't want that? Wear this shirt on a date; if the guy has Jabberwocky memorized by the end of the evening, you know he wasn't listening to a thing you've said!


Sure, I love diamonds, you love diamonds, everyone loves diamonds. But sometimes we just can't afford to give diamonds. So what's the next best thing? LIPS!!! (and I'm NOT talking about hummers!) Not just any lips, though. The infamous lips from the opening credits of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I know you want one! And you can get one too, from Etsy, and show your allegiance to the sweetest transvestite that ever was.



What would the holidays be without food? Let's be honest, though. Cookies, candy, fruitcake-it's been done. Why don't you really surprise someone on your list this year with a box of penis shaped pasta! I know this is one gift that won't be regifted! It's perfect for those big (meat)balls you love too! Just be careful when preparing. Don't overcook or it will get limp, and no one likes limp penises!

Now that you've got some great last minute gift ideas, go get your cash or credit card and get busy. There's only so much time left, and the Penis Pasta could sell out at any minute! Happy Shopping!

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Let's Pimp Some Blogs!!!

I keep seeing blog awards popping up like patches of slime mold in our yard when it's humid. Although none have popped up on my blog, I thought I would get in on the fun and create my own blog award, which I would then bestow upon a lucky blogger or two or three (there's just SO MUCH LOVE IN ME!!!) Thus, the "You Feel Like a Friend" Award was birthed today. This award was created to acknowledge bloggers who, through their honesty and willlingness to share their stories, make me feel as if I know them and, even better, like them!

The first 3 honorees for the "You Feel Like a Friend" Award from Lolamouse are (drumroll....)

Mrs. Hyde from A Bitch Called Mom
Rabbit from The Journey
Female, I Shit You Not from i shit u not

I eagerly await new posts from these bloggers. Reading their blogs feels like catching up with an old friend. Although their writing styles are different and they come from completely different life situations, each makes me care about his/her story. They make me laugh, cry, think, and sometimes even be a better person. Check them out. I'm glad I did.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Denim Blues

Yesterday I glanced down at my just washed jeans and noticed a dark, splotch of a stain on the thigh. I wanted to cry. And not just because I'm a peri-menopausal, hormonal mess who cries at car commercials one minute and wants to throw a brick through my TV because the Progressive Insurance Lady's voice annoys the crap out of me the next. Because I have only 2 pairs of jeans that really fit me properly and that was one of them. This means that soon I will have to SHOP FOR JEANS.

Unless you are a woman of a certain age and certain build (not a pre-teen and not anorexic), you may not grasp the horror that is SHOPPING FOR JEANS. Not only does it consume an inordinate amount of time that could be otherwise spent in more pleasurable activities (root canals and PAP smears come to mind), but if you emerge from your shopping with a shred of your dignity and/or self-esteem in tact, you can consider the experience a success, whether or not you actually purchase any jeans.

I truly think the denim industry is run by a conglomerate of sadistic, misogynistic, designers who, due to their state of starvation are psychotically delusional. No one, other than size 0 models or guys, can possibly look good in most of the styles that are in fashion today. If you want to look good in a hot pair of denims, leave your hips and thighs at the door. You are, of course, allowed to possess an ass these days, provided, of course, that it is of the perfectly round and tight variety, ala Kim Kardashian. Is it any wonder that SHOPPING FOR JEANS leaves most normal woman dejected?

Now, I am not a picky person. All I want is a decent pair of jeans that don't cost a fortune and that I don't need to spend more than the price of the jeans to have altered to fit. I live in denims. Jeans are my uniform, so to speak. I wear them to deliver meals, to work outdoors, and to work with children. I'm not going to pay $200 for a pair of jeans because they get messy in my work, and I don't get paid for what I do. When I attempt to find a pair of jeans to fit my needs, however, I am stymied by the schlock that women are willing to put on their bodies! For example,
  • Low rise jeans: Who the hell thought that these would be a good idea?!! The first time I tried on a pair of these abominations, I thought, "Where the f- is the rest of the damn zipper?" I suppose they're considered a fashion "must have" for showing off those gorgeous tramp stamps, but I don't want to walk around all day feeling like my pants are falling down! And don't even get me started on their evil cousin the "ultra" low rise jean. Who wears these things? Girls who don't want to bother taking off their pants to have sex? 
  • Wide leg jeans: Is this a joke? Like I need to have a pair of pants that makes my legs wider than they actually are. Maybe I'll buy a pair in gray and dress as an elephant next Halloween!
  • Pre-torn, pre-frayed jeans: I don't know about you, but when my jeans start getting holes in them, I stop wearing them in public. Well, at least to anyplace important. Why anyone would pay good money for clothes that someone else has deliberately put holes in is beyond my comprehension. Bring me your good clothes and pay me--I'll take some scissors and cut up your jeans, burn a few holes in them, rip some seams, have my dogs chew on them, whatever you think is "haute couture.
  • "Mom" jeans: You know what these are, the jeans with the waistline at your actual waist. Sounds like a good idea, no? Except that when I put these on, the waistline invariably comes above my actual waist, making me look like I've pulled my pants up too high or that my torso has become somehow shortened. Then there's the lovely pouch of excess material that "Mom" jeans seem to have right below the waist that pooches out whenever you sit, making you look pregnant. I admit, I do need a little extra material for my middle aged spread but not so much that it could fit a full-term uterus!
  • Jeggings: The evil spawn of jeans and leggings, these monstrosities were supposedly a fashion must-have for 2010. Guess I missed that one! As if skinny jeans didn't show off enough of my bulges that I wouldn't walk out of the dressing room in them, now my nightmares will be haunted by being stuck in a pair of jeggings and having to leave the dressing room with my legs looking like a pair of sausages stuffed in denim casings.
  • Mid rise, straight leg jeans: Here is what I want. And I see them on the shelves. When I try them on, however, my lower body must morph into a weird size/shape combination because no matter what size I try on, there is no jean that correctly fits my waist, hips, thighs, ass, and is the right length. Since I need to be able to squeeze my ass, hips, and thighs into the pants, I usually go for a size to accommodate those body parts. Invariably, however, the jeans are at least 4-6 inches too long and even worse, stick out at the waist in the back. You could easily fit your hand down the waistband of the jeans in the back and cop a feel! My waist is not that tiny, and I don't have one of those butts that you can set your drinks on, so what's the deal here? Maybe it's a conspiracy with the lingerie industry. Whenever I bend over or squat down, it's the "Lolamouse Lingerie Show," so I have to keep those undies looking good! I'm NOT getting a tramp stamp, though!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Get Off Your Asana! It's Time for Yoga!

As I sit here at the keyboard with sore shoulders, achy hamstrings, a crick in my neck, and tight as a rubber band that's been left in a middle school locker over the winter holiday, I wonder again when I will begin feeling all the wondrous, youth enhancing benefits of the yoga I've been practicing for about 2 years now. Then again, maybe if I hadn't been doing yoga all this time, I'd be feeling even worse than I do now! Can't prove the negative, right? Let's go with that.

I have a great yoga teacher. She's not one of those "access your third eye" types who reeks of patchouli and looks like she hasn't seen the inside of a shower stall in 6 weeks. She's actually quite a normal person, aside from being over 40 having stolen the body of a svelte 20 year-old and grafted it onto her head. Her ass won't quit, and I say that in a totally non-lesbianish but very envious sort of way. I could do lunges from now until 2012 and I'd NEVER achieve the awesomeness of her ass. But I digress.

Since you can't all come to Southern MD (and if you could, I know you'd be off like a herd of stampeding turtles!) and take a class with my yoga teacher, I thought I'd give you the next best thing. Then I realized that I can't friggin' do that either, so I thought I'd draw you some lame ass pictures of what I look like during my yoga class so you can mentally transport yourself and snicker behind my back from wherever you happen to be. 

This is how I look when class begins. I'm fresh (well as fresh as someone who's been dragged out of bed at 5 effin' 30 in the morning can be) and in a yoga state of mind (like a New York state of mind but without the traffic and panhandlers). I fully plan to breath deeply throughout the hour long class and achieve maximum mindfulness and bodily relaxation.

The first few minutes are a breeze. We breath. We close our eyes and "be" in the moment. We stretch a little. We warm up. We look to the sky and rotate our wrists and arms. Easy stuff. Nice. I love yoga.

Just as I'm about to get lured into a false sense of serenity, my yoga teacher starts pulling asanas out of her ass and doesn't stop for the rest of the hour! Here is but a small sampling of some of the pretzelifications I am humiliatingly contorted into each week:

This little gem is called "Warrior." See the power and strength? Neither do I. By the time I've faced a sink full of dirty breakfast dishes, cleaned up puddles of dog piddle, and dealt with some serious teen 'tude, all this warrior wants is to curl up and die in the field hospital.

What is the name of this pose? Does it even have one? It often follows several "Warrior" poses and is supposed to stretch out my legs and feel good. The leg part I can deal with, but for some reason (okay, not "some reason" but because I'm a totally uncoordinated klutz of the highest calling), this pose often throws me off balance and makes me dizzy and drunk feeling (and not in a good way!) This is especially true if we're having class outdoors and I decide, in my yogic nature mindedness, to watch the passing clouds overhead. Sway, sway, sway, throw up in my mouth a little, berate, re-focus, repeat.

This asana, brought to you from the Annals of Sadomasochism Monthly, is called "Pigeon." It is what affectionately is known in yoga circles as a "hip opener." Yes, that odd popping noise coming from your pelvic region and that vague sense of lower parts being rearranged is your hips being opened. This is a good thing! You should practice this on a daily basis, perhaps in front of the TV so that your spouse and children can be entertained by your cries of pain during particularly dull portions of their TV shows or during commercial breaks.

"Downward Facing Dog" is a favorite among yoga enthusiasts. They claim it's because this pose stretches your arms, legs, and shoulders, but I know the real reason-comic relief! Ever see a room full of people with their heads pointed down toward the floor and their derrieres sticking up in the air? It's funny. Laughter is good for you. Just make sure you look at your neighbor on her mat doing this pose and not EVER in a mirror at yourself. Then you would cry.

After an hour of bending my middle aged body in ways that nature never intended, comes the sweet reward-relaxation time! We slowly lower each vertebrae onto our mats, allow our hands and feet to fall naturally, and relax into a comfortable position. We release muscle tension and BREATH. Ahhhh....For about 20 seconds! Then it's time to pack up and leave! WTF! That's the best part! Well, I'll just go home and practice yoga on my own this week and then I can do the relaxation part for as long as I want. Or maybe just skip the yoga and move right on to the relaxation part!

Monday, December 6, 2010

100th Post: Happy Birthday to You!

I can't believe that I'm up to my 100th blog entry! I've been pondering what to rant about for number 100 and have been tossing up ideas like vibrio infested Chesapeake oysters for over a week now. Number 100 seemed too momentous an occasion to squander on a trifle but then again, that's been the point of most of the rants in this blog thus far!

After giving up entirely for the day, I called my old friend (old, as in I've had her as a friend for a very long time now, and, sorry, girl, but also old, as in this side of 40 today) to wish her a happy birthday. Then it hit me like seagull poo on my head while strolling the streets of Annapolis (this really did happen to me): I will dedicate blog post number 100 to my dear friend Kirsten (aka kirf) on her 46th birthday because she's so special to me and because I haven't mailed her gift yet!

Geez, we were dorks in 1971!

  • Mrs. Yauger's 1st grade class with you in Aspen Hill Elementary School
  • Chasing the boys at recess and pulling their hair
  • Going to your birthday parties and collecting peanuts in your yard in brown paper bags
  • Helping your mother can vegetables at your birthday parties
  • Learning the way to your house on Camelot Street
  • Helping you decorate your Christmas tree since we didn't have one
  • Eating those Norwegian cookies at Christmas that your mom made
  • Lefsa
  • Your compost heap before they were cool
  • "Defensive driving for small cars"
  • Reading "The Sensuous Woman" at recess disguised in an "Outsiders" bookcover
  • Laughing about "organisms" in science class
  • That pervert who touched my leg at your parents' dinner party
  • That pervert teacher who made a play for you on our field trip
  • Your mother stopping the car in the middle of the Chesapeake Bridge
  • Beautiful, downtown Denton and "Denton Days"
  • Looking for pin lamps in Delaware
  • Singing Little Feat songs on the way to the beach
  • Buying "French Hos" perfume for prom
  • Trying on my bridesmaid dresses backwards
  • Trying fondue for the first time at your house
  • Making "squid" donuts
  • Happy pigs
  • Going to Dairy Queen on the last day of school and getting Peanut Buster Parfaits
  • You jumping on the beds at Scan Furniture
  • Commander Salamander
  • Rocky Horror Picture Show in Gtown
  • "Your mother's gay?!!"
  • Going to a Joan Armatrading concert and winding up in some guys' house we never met before
  • Outer Mongolians
    I'm sure there are way more things that I'll remember as soon as I hit the "Publish Post" button, but my dogs are snoring and it's time for bed. So Happy Birthday kirf! And I will send you a real gift some time this month, I promise!

Happy Holidays (Sorry, Didn't Mean to Offend You!)

Would you be offended if someone were to wish you a happy holiday? Apparently the good folks at the Liberty Counsel would be. They want to hear "Merry Christmas" at this time of year, and nothing else will do. In fact, they find reference to anything other than Christmas so abhorrent that for the past 8 years they have carried on a "Friend or Foe Christmas Campaign" in which they publish a list of "Naughty" or "Nice" retailers based on whether or not the Counsel finds the store "Christmas friendly." Their concern is that Christmas is no longer being properly acknowledged in America.

Mathew D. Staver, Founder and Chairman of Liberty Counsel and Dean of Liberty University School of Law, stated, "...Retailers that profit from Christmas while pretending it does not exist will find that consumers will shop elsewhere.” Now, I don't know about you, but from where I stand, the Liberty Counsel need not worry about Christmas ceasing to exist or losing its stronghold over retailers during the time between approximately early November and January 1. While I may spy a few Hanukkah or Kwanzaa cards or decorations in some corner of a store or two, the overwhelming majority of retailers are inundated with red and green decorations, Christmas greetings, Santas, costumed salespeople, and Christmas music. The word "Christmas" is not difficult to find anywhere. It's precisely the opposite; if you're looking for a holiday card or gift without Christmas connotations, good luck!

The Liberty Counsel doesn't approve of the idea of generic winter themed school parties either. They want the traditional Christmas party restored to our children's schools, replete with Christmas cookies, Christmas carols, and Christmas trees. They don't really specify whether or not children of other faiths should have their traditions included in the party as well or just pretend to be Christian for the day and fit in dammit!

I will be the first to admit that I'm hardly objective about this issue. Growing up Jewish in a predominantly Christian environment, I sometimes felt left out, isolated, and overlooked. I appreciate when someone says, "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas" to me because I never personally celebrated Christmas, although I do now with my family. I don't assume everyone I meet celebrates my holiday, so why should they assume I celebrate theirs? Although I enjoy seeing the Christmas decorations in stores, I feel a certain sadness when I can't find even one thing for Hanukkah. From where I stand, every retailer is "Christmas friendly."

So, here's what I have to say to Mathew D. Staver and the Liberty Counsel: You think you have it hard? Feh! You should see what I have to go through in the stores! I could plotz from the frustration! I should have it so hard as you. Oy vay. Quit your kvetching, get off your tuchis, and go shopping already or you'll miss all the good sales! Oy vay iz mir!

Friday, December 3, 2010

What Would Jesus Censor?

I was not aware that House Speaker-designate John Boehner (R-Ohio) and incoming Majority Leader Eric Cantor (R-Va.) are art critics. In addition to their political careers, it appears that these men also aspire to wield their influence within the world of public art.  This week they called for the closing of the National Portrait Gallery's GLBT themed "Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture" exhibit after the conservative website CNSNews alerted them to "art with strongly sexual themes."

This exhibit features 105 works of art, including pieces by Georgia O'Keefe, Andy Warhol, and Jasper Johns. It also featured a four-minute video by artist David Wojnarowicz, called Fire In My Belly, which was meant to symbolize the suffering of a person with AIDS, according to the artist. However, it aroused the ire of Catholic and other conservative groups for its depiction of homosexual and religious images, specifically one image of Jesus on the cross covered in ants. Due to the controversy surrounding the video, the Smithsonian museum decided to pull the work from the exhibit.

Could this decision by Secretary of the Smithsonian, G. Wayne Smith, possibly have anything to do with  incoming House Speaker Boehner's spokesman stating, "Smithsonian officials should either acknowledge the mistake and correct it, or be prepared to face tough scrutiny beginning in January when the new majority in the House moves [in]"?  Martin Sullivan, Director of the National Portrait Gallery (part of the Smithsonian), defended the video as an artistic interpretation of the suffering of an AIDS victim but then backpedaled by noting that it had been taken down nonetheless. He continued to defend the decision by saying that a "distraction had been removed from an important exhibit." Neither Sullivan nor Smithsonian Director Clough had the cajones to defend the artistic merit of all the works in the exhibit when political and possible financial pressure came down from above. Despite the official statement from the NPG Director, it's obvious that the museum caved to right-wing political pressure. Shame on them!

Should Congress hold power over what is displayed in our museums? Should CNSNews? Should the President of the Catholic League, who decried the video as "hate speech"? Does this reek of censorship? If the Smithsonian judged these works of art to have enough merit to be included in the exhibit, they should stand behind them, each and every one. Removing even one piece because it was deemed offensive to someone is censorship. What is the function of art in a free society? Is it just to beautify and elevate or can art evoke thoughts or feelings in the viewer that may be uncomfortable or even negative?

I'd be willing to bet that many of those who objected to Wojnarowicz's video hadn't even watched it. It was originally a 30 minute video, which was edited to 4 minutes for the museum exhibit. I watched a slightly altered version on YouTube. The 11 seconds of the ant covered cross was hardly the most noticeable image within this video. The entire video is a nightmarish compilation of disturbing imagery, some of which is religious, some of which is sexual, and some of which, at least to me, is indecipherable. I can't say I enjoyed it. Is it offensive? Who knows? It sure ain't a date movie!

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Where Does Jack Sparrow Stick His Sword?

My vote for sexiest man alive
Where does Captain Jack Sparrow stick his sword? Apparently, the swishbuckling pirate's ambiguous sexuality bothered Disney execs tremendously while the first Pirates of the Caribbean was being filmed. Personally, I found Johnny Depp's interpretation of Jack Sparrow quite humorous and intriguing, but according to a recent Vanity Fair interview with Patti Smith, Depp says that Michael Eisner "hated" the way Depp portrayed the character and accused him of "ruining" the film!  Depp quotes Eisner, then the head executive of Disney, of saying something like, "What’s wrong with him? Is he, you know, like some kind of weird simpleton? Is he drunk? By the way, is he gay?… " Then Depp goes on to add, "And so I actually told this woman who was the Disney-ite… ‘But didn’t you know that all my characters are gay?’ Which really made her nervous."

Capt. Jack was inspired by Keith Richards
and Pepe Le Pew!

Disney should be so lucky to have all of their movies so "ruined!" The film was a huge commercial success and garnered 5 Academy Award nominations, including one for Male Actor in a Leading Role for Johnny Depp for his portrayal of Jack Sparrow (how ironic!) I guess not everyone is as freaked out by sexually ambiguous pirates as the execs at Disney. What did they think they were going to get when they hired Johnny Depp for this role anyway? He's not exactly known for his mainstream characters. Even before the first Pirates movie was cast, Depp had expressed disdain for the typical heartthrob leading male character he had been cast as in his early years in 21 Jump Street (where I first lusted after him, may I add.) He had accepted roles in Tim Burton and John Waters films and had already played some very oddball characters, including Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood, the crossdressing "worst film director ever." If Disney wanted a "typical" pirate, they hired the wrong guy.

Frankly, I don't give a dubloon if Captain Jack is gay, straight, or bisexual. He can get it on with that freaky Sea Bitch Calypso if he wants. I hope we never find out where Captain Jack sticks his sword because the fun is in the guessing and in watching Depp play mind games with the tiny mouse minds at Disney!

Monday, November 29, 2010

Objets D'Crap

Um, I think something dripped down your neck
Well, wouldn't you know it, as soon as I completed my list of "don't wants" for the holidays, one of my favorite sites, Neatorama, posted some rather "unusual" items that I also do not want but were rather intriguing. One in particular, the "pearl necklace," I had to research further. I found that it was designed by artist Leah Piepgras and is described as an "amorphous cast silver shape...that is actually an accurate representation of semen. It is a visual marker of chaos turned perfection through an act of beauty and lust...." I see. So, it's not just an overpriced blob of silver splooge on a chain! How unsophisticated of me not to recognize the artistic merit in the piece!

In case wearing silver representations of bodily effluvium doesn't float your boat, Ms. Piepgras also offers some lovely objets d'art of the dinnerware variety. Entitled "Consumption Dinnerware," this five piece place setting is for the "mental, physical, and spiritual act of consuming," by which I assume she means eating. The plates feature a "map of the digestive track from mouth to anus" and promote mindfulness. If I were served on these plates, I believe they would promote nausea and perhaps vomiting and several days of fasting. 

When I'm through fasting, however, I will need a caffeine fix. What I won't need (or want) is a cup of Kopi Luwak or Civet Crap Choice Coffee. Yes, there is a coffee more expensive and more exotic than Starbucks! The Asian Palm Civet Cat eats only the best coffee fruits, and the coffee beans partially ferment inside its digestive track. It then poops out the coffee beans, which are collected and cleaned and sold to YOU for a unique and delicate coffee flavor experience. Perhaps Ms. Piepgras could serve Kopi Luwak coffee at her next art installation or exhibition. Seems fitting somehow.

All I (Don't) Want for Christmas

When is bigger not better? When is more too much? I’ve been pondering these questions as the holidays approach and as I see increasing evidence of the eagerness of the American public to buy into every ridiculous fad that is offered up in the name of beauty, luxury, or pampering.

With this blatant over-the-top consumerism in mind, I offer you a sampling of some of the items that are NOT on my Hanukkah or Christmas lists this year:

      Collagen enhanced lips: When did it become sexy to look like you're having an allergic reaction to something you've eaten? Or maybe it's that "I've just been punched in the mouth" look that you're going for?  If you want to look pouty, just pout. It’s not that hard. If you really want that swollen lip look, come on over to my house and I’ll hit you for free. I enjoy hitting really stupid people. 

      Beach ball boobs: Okay, I get it that if you’re in the entertainment industry and you have little tits, you’re going to get a boob job. I understand going from A to C or even D or maybe even larger. But have you seen some of the boobs that are NOT bouncing around these days (real boobs bounce, people!) They look like over-inflated beach balls! Not only are they huge, but they’re perfectly round! Natural breasts are not spherical!  Why do men ogle these monstrosities? I don’t think I’d find it sexy if a man had tennis ball sized implants in his testicles, so why are freak-of-nature breast implants so effin’ drool-worthy? 

Flesh eating fish pedicures: I am so not making this up! There is a species of fish that eats human flesh.  Someone has seen the money making potential in this weirdness and thought, "Someone will pay for this!" and he  was right! There are nail salons where you can pay to stick your feet into a tank full of these little flesh suckers (they technically don't have teeth) and have them eat your feet as a part of your pedicure. Sounds like bliss, no?                       

Vajazzling: Somehow I didn't get the notice that pubes are now "out." When did this happen? Seems that once a woman is old enough to have any hair "down there," she goes in for a Brazilian to get it waxed off. Ouch, I say. Ouch. Certainly, one doesn't want rogue hairs poking out from a bathing suit, but totally bare? I don't quite get this trend. If the guy I'm with insists that my lady parts be totally bare, that seems a tad pedophilic to me. But I digress...Vajazzling. Once the canvass is blank, so to speak, Swarovski crystals and glitter are applied to decorate. Why I would need my nether regions to sparkle is beyond me, but apparently Jennifer Love Hewitt made this stupid trend popular. Kathy Griffin had it done on national TV before her PAP smear, so at least hers was a "public cervix" or "pubic service" or, oh, forget it! 

      Botox: I know it's bothersome. You look in the mirror and see smile lines, creases by your forehead, wrinkles, etc.  Add those to the gray hairs and you don't look quite as young and nubile as you used to. Sigh. "I know!" you think to yourself. "Why don't I pay hundreds of dollars every few months and have a known toxin injected into my face to make me look younger?!!" What asshat sold this to the American public as a viable option and why do so many people blindly buy it? It's Bo-tox, people. The -tox part stands for "toxin." It just stuns me that so many folks are so desperate to retain their youthful looks that they are willing to have poison injected into their faces, no once, not twice, but on a regular basis! And, frankly, most don't end up looking youthful; they end up looking like victims of Medusa, with faces frozen in stone.

And by the way, I don't want a Chia Pet, a Snuggie, a Ginsu Knife, any type of cleaning appliance, or cheap-ass scented candles either. Cash is always good. Happy Holidays!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Give Thanks That This Isn't Your Dog or Amazing But Totally Disgusting Dog Tricks

As some of you know, we adopted a 4 year-old Maltese about 2 weeks ago from a local humane group. The Maltese was described by his foster mother as friendly, housetrained, and completely non-aggressive with both people and other dogs. After meeting him twice, we liked him, brought him home, and named him Robin Goodfellow aka "Puck," after the mischievous spirit in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream.

Oh, how names are fate! Our little Puck has turned our home into his own private urinal as well as leaving us several other more materially substantial "gifts" on our carpet. He has a penchant for chewing, whether it be dog toys, chew treats, napkins, grass, trash, Chapstick, or hands. His preferred manner of greeting new people is to growl menacingly, which considering his diminutive size, makes him sound like Gizmo from Gremlins (another name we considered and luckily rejected; Gizmo tried to kill people!) Both my husband and I have been bitten several times by our little non-aggressive dog for the unpardonable sins of 1. attempting to remove garbage from his mouth before he swallowed it  2. trying to move him from the top of the couch to a cushion so he wouldn't fall  3. leaning over him to kiss.  In other words, if we do anything to irk this dog, back off or prepare to be bitten. If we had a small child in our house, he would have gone back to the rescue group already, but I am trying to study up on dog training and have contacted the group to see if someone can help. I hate to send him back and have the abandonment cycle start all over again.

Today, our little doggie wonder displayed a new talent so truly awesome and amazing that I was speechless. We were having family over for Thanksgiving dinner and the table had been set on Wednesday evening. Today, my daughter, bless her observant nature, asked me, "Mom, did you put something in one of the glasses on the table?" Odd question. Why would I do that? Then, slowly, a thought formed in my brain. I tried to fight it, but it kept reaching for consciousness. Puck. "No effing way," I thought. Then I went in the dining room, peered into the glass in question, and the evidence was indisputable. PEE. IN THE GLASS. Mind you, there was no disturbance of any china, no wet spots on the table cloth, nothing else amiss. This was truly incredible. Somehow he had managed to jump up on the table, lift his leg, aim his little pecker, and pee directly into my glassware! It was just like giving a urine sample! If it weren't so absolutely disgusting, I'd be proud of the little guy.

For those who don't believe this story, I have the pictures. Yes, I took pictures because I'm that type of person. And yes, I washed and disinfected the glass and all the dishes around it.. And no, I didn't tell any of our guests!

Wondering what to drink with the turkey? Monsieur Puck has a suggestion.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Is The Pope Catholic? Redux

My Hanukkah gift came early this year with the Pope's announcement that some condom use was morally justified, for example, to prevent the spread of AIDS by male prostitutes. Today, I feel like I spun the dreidel and got gimmel for the jackpot! Benedict XVI outdid himself by further stating that condoms are "the lesser of two evils" when used to curb the spread of AIDS even when their use may prevent pregnancy! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Vatican, in a stunning shift of policy, has put human life before church dogma! What's next? Women priests? Nah, that's way too radical!

The Catholic Church hastened to add that condom use is still considered immoral as is any means of artificial contraception. By making this announcement, however, the Pope is opening up grounds for debate on the issues of condom use, birth control, AIDS, and other urgently significant topics. Lest we liberals don our party hats too soon, George Weigel, a conservative Catholic writer, wanted to make clear that the Vatican was certainly not endorsing condom use as a method of AIDS prevention. Weigel stated, "... someone determined to do something wrong may be showing a glimmer of moral common sense by not doing that wrong thing in the worst possible way — which is not an endorsement of anything." Uh, okay, George.

Whatever the Pope's detractors and George Weigel may say, this is HUGE! The Vatican is now declaring that a form of contraception is more morally acceptable than possibly passing on a potentially lethal virus to another person. Of course, this is just common sense to most of us, but to strict Catholics, this is a seismic shift in their way of thinking. Now, about those women priests....

Monday, November 22, 2010

Is The Pope Catholic?

Is the Pope Catholic? I had to wonder this myself when I heard that Pope Benedict XVI recently stated that some condom use may be morally justified. Jewish girl sez, "WHAAAAT???" It must be my early Hanukkah gift this year that a reasonable statement has emerged from the Vatican! Maybe my liberal, Jewish juju infiltrated the place when I visited Rome this summer!

In a move that has mortified conservative officials at the Vatican and in the Catholic Church, the Pope has declared that condom use may be justified in order to prevent the spread of infectious diseases, such as AIDS. He cited the case of male prostitutes as an example of those who may be morally justified in using condoms as a "first step" in living a more moral life. The Pope made no mention of female prostitutes and continued to assert the Church's opposition to artificial means of birth control (some progress is better than none, right?) Some Catholics fear that Benedict has now opened up debate on the issue and that this ruling could lead to other "justified" uses of condoms, to which conservative Catholics strongly object.

I cannot fathom how anyone could possibly object to something that has been shown to prevent a deadly, infectious disease.  If you personally feel that condom use, or any artificial contraception is morally wrong, then abstain from sex. But how can you call yourself a moral person if you would prefer to condemn someone to a preventable death sentence than allow him or her to use the means to prevent it? It heartens me to see that the Pope is beginning to see the gray areas in these moral questions and allow for some real world reasoning to balance out his moral absolutes. There's still a LONG way to go as far as I'm concerned, but I give a big AMEN to Pope Benedict on his latest call. I hope it's just the beginning of the Catholic Church entering the 21st century with moral guidance that real people can actually use in today's world.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

How Do You Know Whom God Hates?

Maybe you've heard of the Westboro Baptist Church led by the Rev. Fred Phelps. If so, you know that they don't deserve to be called a "church," for they are a pack of hate mongering wing nuts who believe that American soldiers are being killed overseas as God's punishment for the acceptance of gay people. No, unfortunately, I'm not making that up. If you haven't yet heard of these cretins, you probably will, because they are on a mission to disrupt military funerals with protests and placards with messages such as "God Hates Fags" and "Thank God For Dead Soldiers." Rev. Phelps claims that it is his First Amendment right to express his beliefs as he sees fit. No matter that it is disrespectful, unpatriotic, and terribly hurtful to the bereaved families of these soldiers, Rev. Phelps believes that military funerals are the place to express his hateful ignorance. I'm sure that it has nothing to do with all of the publicity he gets by making such a pathetic spectacle of himself and his lemmings by disrupting what should be solemn ceremonies with his homophobic tirades.

Well, Rev. Phelps was foiled this past Monday in, of all places, Southern MD. He and his minions showed up for the funeral of Marine Lance Cpl. Terry Honeycutt in La Plata, MD. According to the Washington Examiner, "the hate group's parade of absurdity received quite a response: More than a thousand counter-demonstrators showed up early, established themselves on the rights-of-way around the church, and prevented the "God Hates Fags" crowd from getting anywhere near the funeral of Marine Lance Cpl. Terry Honeycutt." Holly Smith, one of the organizers of the counter-demonstration, described the scene: "I was surprised to hear no shouting or noise in the background. American flags as far as the eye can see... And the Westboro crowd? They are up at a gas station probably a mile up the road, because they couldn't get any closer. We're in the shoulder for probably ten deep for at least 300 yards."  I couldn't be prouder of my Southern MD neighbors if they had dressed in drag and thrown a gay pride parade! Way to come together and stand up to blatant ignorance and idiocy!

Phelps and his fanatics are also being challenged in the Supreme Court. The Westboro Baptist Church was sued by Albert Snyder of MD for emotional distress and invasion of privacy after they disrupted the funeral of his son, Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder, who was killed in Iraq in 2006. Snyder initially won a 5 million dollar verdict against the church, but it was vacated by an appeals court. Phelps claims the issue rests on his First Amendment right to free speech at public funerals, while Snyder claims that the church engages in harassment and that free speech is not absolute. It will be interesting to see how the Court decides this case.

As preposterous as his ideas may be, I am hesitant to say Phelps does not have the right to express them, as long as he is not preventing the bereaved from assembling and participating in the funeral. I think the folks in La Plata had the right idea; outnumber the whack jobs and beat them at their own game. Let the homophobes have their signs and their hatred. We'll fight back by supporting our friends and neighbors with love and acceptance. We'll comfort the bereaved, welcome the outcast, accept those on the fringes. If we can do this, there will be so much less room for those who spew hatred.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Teach Your Children Well

In other McDonald's news, it seems our favorite fast food corporate giant is getting in the business of nutrition education. Your child's class can now visit the local McDonald's on a field trip and learn all about "nutrition." This is exactly what a class of sixth graders in Connecticut did recently. I guess there aren't any museums or historical sites in Stratford, CT, so a field trip to McDonald's seemed like a good idea to someone. A local store marketer brought the children into the store to give them information on the "health benefits of certain vegetables" and "tips on making healthy choices." Nutrition education at McDonald's?!! This makes about as much sense as bringing children to a "professional wrestling" match to give them information on conflict resolution! How about bringing them to a NASCAR race to teach them about safe driving? Why don't we have Bristol Palin promoting abstinence to our kids? Oh, wait, never mind that last one!

But let's not underestimate the intelligence of our sixth graders. Maybe they were able to glean some sound nutritional nuggets from this marketing maneuver. One 11 year-old student stated, ""I learned that McDonald's can be very healthy for you if you make the right choices. I usually have lots of cheese, but I had less cheese and more lettuce...." Another said he "planned to get an Angus Deluxe, but chose a Big Mac because it had 210 fewer calories." Okay...A Big Mac still has 540 calories, 260 of which are from fat. This accounts for 50 percent of an adult's recommended fat intake for an entire day. It also has 1040 mg of sodium, which is almost half of the daily recommended salt intake for an adult. Saying that you chose a Big Mac because it's healthier than an Angus Deluxe is sort of like saying you chose a screwdriver over a martini because there's orange juice in the screwdriver.

Now I am aware that McDonald's offers some healthy choices, such as apple slices, juice, and milk, on their menu. Healthy options comprise only a very small portion of McDonald's menu choices, however. And let's be real; how many kids are going to go to McDonald's and order only healthy food, especially if Mom and Dad are cramming  Quarter Pounders and large fries down their gullets? Nutrition workshops, like Happy Meals, are just another ploy by McDonald's to promote brand awareness in children and create lifelong consumers for their products-lifelong consumers whose lives may be shortened by obesity, heart disease, and high blood pressure caused, in part, by the very products McDonald's serves up!

I am not one of those greener than thou parents who won't let food touch their child's lips unless it has been harvested by non-oppressed workers on a totally organic, local farm run by a member of my women's studies book club. I do, on occasion, eat fast food and allow my child to do so also. I am not, however, delusional enough to believe that I am making sound nutritional choices when I do this. No matter how McDonald's tries to dress it up, a Big Mac, fries, and Hawaiian Punch are not a healthy protein, vegetable, and fruit choice. You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig. And it's absolutely indecent that school systems are using taxpayer money to send kids on field trips to learn this hogwash!

Friday, November 12, 2010

Bad Mommy!!!

Have you seen the latest commercial for PediaSure Sidekicks? I'd like to sidekick whoever wrote that insulting piece of crap! Aside from the fact that the hucksters at Abbott, who own PediaSure, are trying to get us to buy an overpriced liquid nutritional supplement for healthy children (this is a different product than the therapeutic PediaSure that is used for medical conditions), they decided that the best way to market this totally unnecessary bilge water was to trash mothers.

How many times do we have to see this tactic? If you're a good mother, you'll buy Product X for your child. Bad mothers don't care enough to buy it or buy the cheap, generic knock-off. "Choosy mothers choose Jiff." I use Skippy peanut butter; what does that make me? Some sort of negligent, alcoholic who doesn't care if my kid eats the dog food off the floor?

The PediaSure Sidekicks commercial begins with a mom telling her daughter, "Gotta be on your game today, honey!" Gee, way to put some pressure on the kid, mom! She's getting ready for a youth soccer game, not the World Cup! But you know how soccer parents can be! Gotta start them young; scholarships could be at stake! Then we see little Brittany killing the competition on the soccer field while Mom cheers her on. Good Mom! You must have given her PediaSure Sidekicks (and those steroids probably didn't hurt either!) Now we see Bad Mom, who looks rather distressed and asks whether little Tyler (love these suburban, middle class names!) looks a little slow. Well, no shit Sherlock! Poor Tyler has turned into a container of french fries! Hard to run like that! Bad Mom fesses up to feeding Tyler FAST FOOD before the game (gasp of horror!) Good Mom says, (looking very pleased with herself) "Well, kids are what they eat." Here's where I think Bad Mom should punch Good Mom in the face and say, "Eat my fist, you sanctimonious bitch!" but alas, that doesn't happen. We get blah, blah, blah about PediaSure's vitamins and protein.

What kind of moron thought that this commercial would help sell their product? Furthermore, what kind of person would buy this product after the company so blatantly insults women and their childrearing skills? I'm so freakin' sick of women being portrayed as either catty, uppity know-it-alls or dumbass, abusiveness whores. The truth is that most of us are doing the best we can, and we all have our good days and our bad days. We all know our kids should be eating healthy, nutritional meals. We also know that sometimes a trip through the drive-through is the best we can do on an overscheduled day. Give us a friggin' break!

And that donut goalie at the end of the commercial just makes me hungry! If her mom had fed her a Cinnabon or even a jelly donut instead, she could've blocked that shot. No hole!

And Speaking of Adoption...

We had so much fun adopting a word the other day that we decided it would be fun to adopt something else. Here he is: 
We named him Robin Goodfellow but call him "Puck." He's a Maltese, and we got him from a rescue group. He's estimated to be about 4 years old. We had assurances from his foster mom that he is completely housetrained and nondestructive.  As soon as he was left with us, he proceeded to urinate in our kitchen and bedroom and this morning he christened our living room with a lovely poop! He's been scratching up the furniture and carpet as well! But he's cute as can be.

"You're on my blanket dude-prepare to die!"
Our resident dog, Soni, seems to be tolerating the intruder fairly well, with only mild complaining. Right now, he's hiding from him under my computer desk and groaning! We're sure they're going to be best buddies soon (as long as Puck doesn't try to take Soni's spot on the couch again!) If this adoption goes well, next month we're off to China for twin girls (just kidding; it takes longer than that to adopt a baby from China!)

Thank you to Mrs. Hyde for the shout-out in her blog! Check her out at  A Bitch Called Mom
for some honest, funny, and thoughtful stuff.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Adopt a Word

Who knew that there were so many unwanted, unloved words just waiting for homes? So many locupletative vocabulary words with which to enhance our blateration that may go the way of the ten-cent store if we don't take a stand with our sospital acts on their behalf. "How?" you may ask. By adopting a word! Go to and you can adopt your very own word! You can use your word in your everyday speech, in your writing, emails, texts, or poems. You can use it to name a pet or a boat. You can even get a tattoo of your word to help you remember how to spell it. Your word doesn't care how you use it. It just wants to be needed. It doesn't cost any money, and you'll be making a huge difference in the life of a neglected word. It takes only a minute. Just a minute of your time to save a word. Please. There are so many words just waiting for your love, and many of these words have so little time left. Please act today.

Thanks to M.A.S. at for alerting me to these words' terrible plight.

My daughter and I adopted the word "snollygoster" today. We're so proud.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Say "Squeeze!!!" Redux

"Do it to me one more time, once is never enough...." Oh, for shit's sake, I have to get another mammogram and an ultrasound of the ol' girls now. I just knew they didn't smile pretty and cooperate for their pictures this last time! According to the highly personal, warm, and fuzzy radiology report I was sent, I have "heterogeneously dense parenchyma which could obscure detection of small masses. There is nodular asymmetry in both breasts." From what I can gather, this means that my boobs are dense and lumpy, kind of like overcooked oatmeal. The good folks at American Radiology Services don't want to just come out and say, "Hey, lady, we can't see for shit through your tits! For all we know, you could be hiding not only a tumor but a kilo of cocaine in there! You're full of more lumps than my grandmother's Thanksgiving gravy!" So, it's back to the squish machine for me and before they're done with me, it'll be boob scallopini all around!

Friday, November 5, 2010

C'Mon, Get Happy!

What has the world come to? First Florence Henderson struts her wrinkled, old hoochie stuff on "Dancin' With the Stars," and now my former pre-teen crush David Cassidy has been arrested in South Florida for DUI!!! My innocent memories of "The Brady Bunch" and "The Partridge Family" may never recover after this double whammy! And, tell me, how did David Cassidy get to be 60 years old?!! That's old, dude! How the heck could I have a crush on an old dude? Of course, he claims that he wasn't drunk but tired from an early morning funeral he attended. He also admitted to taking a pain pill for his back. UGH! Attending funerals and back problems! That's no way for a teen idol to behave!!! And have you seen his mug shot? It makes Lindsay Lohan's look like it was done at Glamour Shots!

not a good look for David
This is how David should look

David, David, David. You went from a psychedelic bus to a white Mercedes, from a groovy hippie kid to an alcohol abusing, pain killer using old guy. How could this happen to one of my very first crushes when I've managed to remain so vibrant, youthful, and sexy this entire time? Ah, the mysteries of the universe...