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A letter from Katie Holmes to Tom Cruise’s possible 4th wife

I was actually surprised when I heard the news last week that Katie Holmes was filing for divorce from Tom Cruise. Not that their union was ideal or even real… but I thought TomKat had a few more years on the contract. <Cough> I mean, pre nup, <cough> whatever the fuck they arranged between them. And between just you and me, I have a feeling that little Suri is the most spoiled brat on the planet. This is purely speculation on my part. I know she is just an innocent pawn in all this, but don’t you think that she probably raises hell between the nannies, Scientology chaperones and Katie? I bet she has Tom just wrapped around her little Burberry mittened finger.

Doesn’t she look so sweet?

Okay, so here is a warning, or ‘heads up’ if you will to the next woman to fall to Tom’s charms as written by Katie, in my imagination, based on tabloid fodder. Don’t sue me.

Dear doormat-

Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that you will have to be a doormat to make this relationship work. When you realize you’re tired of being a doormat, that is when the relationship will have run its course.

Tom is very charming in the beginning of the relationship. He will pay someone to have your car detailed for you. He will fly your parents out to a fancy hotel and take you all shopping at Bergdorf Goodmans. He will pay for dinner and no one will notice the kool-aid being served that looks like Champagne.

He will try to get you to carry his devil/alien/Scientology spawn as quickly as possible. Trust me. I got knocked up within the first 6 months we were dating. This assured me, he said, that I would get more in the pre-nup because Scientology will use that child’s DNA for future alien/celebrity spawn. This is used in fertility clinics throughout Beverly Hills. Why do you think all the celebrities have twins?

Make sure to compliment him all the time. Whatever you do, don’t mention the height thing. It really irks him. Oh, and don’t point out to him either, that his face looks different from his early movies. This is not surgery. His nose is EXACTLY the same. The only thing that’s changed on him are his teeth which he publicly corrected with braces a few years ago. This is the ONLY thing that has changed on him. DO NOT mention surgery. By the third date, he’ll probably show you his hyperbaric chamber that only Scientology followers get. John Travolta has one too.

This brings us to his friends. Don’t criticize Johnny. They are good ‘friends’. They like to take saunas together, go shopping at the Izod store and spend secret weekends in the Poconos. Kelly is tolerant about this. You will be too.

Another thing NEVER to mention is the ‘couch’ incident. Or Oprah. Or the movie Legend.

No Tom isn’t gay. He doesn’t understand where any of those rumors even started. Just ask Nicole. Actually, scratch that. I think Nicole started those rumors.

Oh, and most importantly- whenever you have sex, (and it wasn’t often, first wife Mimi did elude to him entering monkdom status) he wants you to call him Maverick. Also, you need to yell, at the point of climax, “I can’t handle the truth!” He’s convinced that his sperm is magic. He has magic semen that sparkles. It doesn’t really, but he likes to think so. So just tell him this and he’ll be happy. If you whisper in his ear, ‘take it right in to the danger zone’,  then he’ll pretty much want to please you like he’s jumping on a couch. OH, darn it. I mentioned the couch again. DON’T go there.

Okay, there you go. That’s the gist of it all. Good luck. Don’t expect anything to develop or flourish with your career, family or friends. At first the novelty of isolation is relaxing.  But then, you get really tired of those chaperones.

Well, I’m outta here. My girlfriends and I are going to Vegas. I’m going to do body shots and dance in a cage (that’s not a metaphor or anything).

Cheers,

Katie

P.S. If only Nicole had written ME this letter. Just disregard everything I’ve said and RUN!

I will not censor myself

Hey, readers. Listen up. I’ve been holding back. You know the librarian with the glasses, the buttoned up collar and the comfortable shoes? That’s me. No, it’s not my alter ego stripper character. Although, that would probably be perfect if I were to have some secret stripper life. That’s describing how I’m feeling sometimes when I’ve been writing. I’m thinking of bringing out the fishnets, Flashdance sweater with the cut out neck hole, and a bajillion bangle bracelets Madonna style. You get this is a metaphor right? A wardrobe description to describe my writing? Right? Okay, cuz any of you waiting for pics of me in this get up- just move along.

My point is- NO MORE MRS. NICE GUY!

I’m not going to get all hung up on the Dewey Decimal system anymore!

I’m too careful. I feel I need to please.  I’m worried about what my neighbor might think. What my mom might think. What the husband might think. Well, too damn bad.

I should only have to please ME! If you don’t like what I write, well too damn bad.

Nobody has picked on me or anything. I just was thinking back on some previous posts, and I think I was treading lightly. I shouldn’t feel like I need to beat around the bush with my blog. It’s not a family get together with the in-laws where I should choose my words carefully. This is MY blog. And I’m going to write like I’ve had two appletinis and I’m out with my girlfriends!

Hold. The. Phone. There’s a Flashdance Barbie? Why do I feel like I need this?

Oh yeah!!

ARE YOU READY??

And you’re like, wait- you talk  about your time of the month, sex with your husbandtelling people how to feed their kids  and the sham family bed– what in THEE HELL could you be MORE honest about?

Well, I don’t know- YET. But I promise you, whatever it’s going to be, it will be raw, rough and naked. SEE! I’m already letting loose! ha!!

Maybe it’s this whole turning 40 thing on the horizon.  Maybe it’s life is too short to waste on feeling self-conscious.

I’m going to wear green eyeshadow if I feel like it, regardless of the beauty mags that say I shouldn’t since my eyes are green. And I’m going to wear red lipstick when I feel like it too. Because I got some nice lips, and I can show them off, even if I think I look like Gwen Stefani when I wear red lipstick, but I probably look like Courtney Love after a heroine high.

This is how I look in red lipstick.

So there you go. Stay tuned.

Just kidding!! THIS is how I look in red lipstick, especially after running around doing errands and carpool.

The ‘Family Bed’ is a sham, and not the kind with a duvet and 1000 thread-count sheets.

I’m going to catch so much hell for this. I’m just waiting for all the mommy groups to grab their pitchforks and torches.

But just hold on a sec.

I’m a cuddler, nurturer, breastfeeding parent like anybody. Okay, my kids are 9 and 12- I do NOT still breastfeed them. We need to specify this nowadays since you can breastfeed children until they go to college.

If you’ve read my blog these last months, you know I dote on my children. Love them, shape them, keep it real for them. They are great kids. But having them sleep in my bed is just a no-no.

I need my space. I need to have my ‘self ‘ to myself. And I think there comes a time when children need to learn how to soothe themselves, and be happy with being alone. Not lonely. Just alone in their beds.

I can see the family bed working for newborns. When you have one child. Not several. Then everyone decides your bed is a free for all. Maybe this idea originated in some Third World country. But I’m guessing that if those little cramped dwellings in Third World cultures had bedrooms and mattresses in every room- they’d be sleeping separately too.

When my children were really itty bitty newborns, co-sleeping would work sometimes. In fact, we did it with Emma often since I had such a hard time breast feeding that this was how I got any sleep. Once she would nod off while latched on, I would nod off too. But as she grew older she needed more and more cuddling to sleep and it wasn’t until she was 5 did we get her to sleep through the night without her coming to our bed, or us going to her bed.

And if letting her sleep in our bed from the start would’ve helped, then I suppose we would’ve continued this, but a fist in the face, or a foot in the nuts, isn’t a way to get a good night sleep. What child sleeps without flailing? Both of mine flail like windmills. I’ve been punched in the mouth before. I’ve been awoken by gasps and grunts from the husband as he’s had a heel sharp to the crotch. Or a knee in the gut. Let me tell you- I have skinny children. They have sharp elbows and knees. All bony and shit. It hurts.  This is no way to sleep folks!

And then there’s the contortion efforts to maintain them asleep, if you should wake up to go pee. Or when you’re stuck between your husband and the child and both are squishing you, or it’s summer and it’s so freaking hot you can’t breathe and you just want your

S P A C E!!!!!

Am I making myself clear? The pictures of family bed families, all comfortably spooning each other is a complete fairy tale. If anyone who sleeps in their family bed and loves it, I’m happy to hear that for you. I am in no way saying people shouldn’t have their children sleep in their bed. But for heavens sake people- do you see the monster you are creating if you even open that Pandora’s box?? They will NEVER LEAVE. NEVER.

Do you and your spouse want some alone time? Do you want some nookie time? How’s that working with your toddler between you?

Hey- the dog is always nearby when we are doing the marital relations. But honestly, she hangs her head in shame and walks over to her doggy bed in the closet until we are finished. You can’t do that with a kid!!

Making parents feel bad for using cribs, strollers and baby swings isn’t cool. I could only Baby Bjorn and sling my kids so much. Owen was born during May and was 3 weeks old during a June heat wave. You think I want that sack of ham strapped to me when it’s 95 degrees out and I’m sweating postpartum buckets? NO!

When I was postpartum with Emma, I needed to do 6 weeks of physical therapy because I kinked my neck carrying her all the time as well as the positions I was breast feeding created tension in parts of my body that hadn’t been used before. Obviously I started bad habits or posture or just using muscles that hadn’t been used before. Also I was on bed rest for 10 weeks before she was born, so I had very little muscle strength when she was born after atrophying on the couch for 3 months.

I love snuggling my kids. The idea of being cuddled in their beds together falling asleep with them is idyllic. But it’s the ‘idea’ not the reality that is idyllic. We snuggle lots. I rub their backs when I tuck them in. We are physically affectionate in lots of hugs, holds, back rubs, hair stroking. All that good stuff.

I hear of many folks that have slept with their children as babies and are trying to get their children to sleep in their own beds because they aren’t babies anymore! This is the disconnect. So much emphasis is placed on sleeping as a family when they are little, but what happens when you need to get your 4 year old to sleep in his own bed? Or when my friend says their 10 year old still can’t sleep alone in his bed? Once in awhile one of my children will crawl in to bed with us from a nightmare. This is okay. But even they will say, I didn’t sleep well last night, I hope I stay in my bed tonight. HA! They GET IT!

We don’t have to be pressured under Mayim Bialik’s parenting philosophies. Remember- she wore a flowered hat and overalls for many years during the 90s. Just because she does it, doesn’t mean you need to also.

If you think I let my kids cry it out, well, I didn’t. But I learned my mistakes from the firstborn and changed them with the second kid. Ha! Don’t we all! I would put him down in his crib when I saw the sleep signals. I would swaddle him all snuggly so he felt secure. He slept for hours on his own in his crib. He didn’t sleep through the night until he was 18 months old. He would still wake up for a 4 am nurse session. And then I realized that this was detrimental to me and wasn’t working anymore. I resented the sleep lost. I didn’t like the feeling anymore of breastfeeding. So one night I just cuddled him instead of nursing him and put him back in the crib. He went right back to sleep. It was just a habit to wake up. He didn’t need to eat. He didn’t need to be held. He needed to sleep really. I broke his habit, and we were all better off.

And now my boy is such a mama’s boy. So I don’t think I scarred him for deciding to stop breastfeeding before the age of 2. Our children will love us and be loving people regardless of how long they are nursed or if they’ve slept in cribs and beds by themselves. My kids love going to bed at night. They think their beds are cozy and safe and their own place for dream land.

Okay, so there’s my rant on the Family Bed. Just remember, it’s MY OPINION. I’m not writing child-rearing books here. I just don’t get it. If it works for you. Great. If it doesn’t- here’s a cup of coffee, you look a little tired.

Thank you for posing so perfectly for the photographer. Now everyone- start dreaming, full REM and flailing. Go! First one with a black eye wins.

I rest my case.

Sex (or lack thereof) and the Married Couple

Or as I should call it, How 50 Shades of Grey ruined my sex life. That’s right. I said ruined. I know, I know- you’re like, ‘WTF FRUG, you were all gushing about it in your music video. Yeah, well, that was back then. Now, unless my husband reads those books, (has any guy read them?) or any other middle aged-mom-soft porn, I can forget getting hot and heavy like Ana and Christian did. My husband will never look at me with smoldering eyes, fingering one of his silk ties in his hands, while he strolls on over to me wearing ripped up jeans and carrying a riding crop, telling me to ‘hold still’.  Our idea of kinky is when one of us gets a neck cramp during ‘relations’.

Who the fuck has time for hot sex anymore?  I’m talking monogamous, happily married, tear off each other’s clothes, pretend like you haven’t been married for 15 years sex. My body isn’t a robot. I don’t have a ‘TURN ON’ switch. So if it isn’t the time of the month, fatigue, sciatic nerve spasms, gas from too much bread at dinner… it’s a miracle there’s any relations going on at all. Seriously, mom- this might be where you stop reading- or put your fingers in your ears ‘lalalalala…I can’t hear you.’

Is it nature’s job to just mess with us? And by us, I mean women. It’s not that I don’t want sex, necessarily (oh dear God, mother, I am so sorry), it’s just that the urge for it really is sporadic. Here is a typical cycle of my libido in any given week-

Monday night= staying up to catch up on DVR shows and blog. Plus, my crops in WeTopia are far overdue to be harvested. Hubs is asleep on the couch. #Sameoldstory.

Tuesday= 11 am, started reading a book/ article/ or was watching Last of the Mohicans on one of the Encore channels with Daniel Day Lewis wearing deer skin pants- the only movie he’s ever looked THAT good- and think- hmmm, if hubby was home right now I would SO tap that keg.

Tuesday night= hubby’s home- and awake, but I have gas from that new quinoa and white bean recipe I tried. Plus, I snarfed that bag of Doritos when no one was around earlier, so the MSG is bloating in my intestines. This equals unsexy for sure.

Wednesday = Hubby’s working from home but I’m feeling glum and sad over how my jeans don’t fit me after I take them out of the dryer. I wish he would give me a back rub. And by back rub, I mean, back rub. And bring me donuts.

Thursday= holy hell- was surfing the web for blog material and happened to come across a whole handful of hot guys which got me thinking how nice it would be if hubby was working from home today. But he’s not. Once again, two ships- different ports.

Friday night= fell asleep in front of my lap top at around 9:30 surfing the web for swim suits that will never fit me. Got distracted and started watching cute kitten videos on YouTube, but my eyelids were so heavy, so now I’m just snoring on the couch. Maybe hubs will carry me upstairs, undress me and put me in to bed, which will wake me just enough for me to be aroused and he’ll pleasure me luxuriously for hours. Wait. Scratch that. Hubs hasn’t picked me up EVER since I weigh as much as he does, and he sure as hell wouldn’t make it up the stairs carrying my fat ass, especially with his bum knee. Plus he’s fallen asleep on the couch while updating his roster for Fantasy Soccer.

Saturday= went out with girl friends and got all dolled up to impress other ladies and get hit on by men that don’t mean anything to me. Stumbled home around midnight and took some Advil and went to bed.

Sunday= still recovering from the night before’s outing. Hubs gives me THE LOOK while we are brushing our teeth getting ready for bed. I’m like, “What?”, He’s like, “hey there”. I’m all, “hey there yourself”. Put in my night guard, throw my hair up in a scrunchie and call it a night. 6:30 am isn’t waiting for nobody and Monday mornings are always hell trying to drag my sorry ass out of bed. So no nookie for you my dear. Sleep time.

And there you have the random week in the life of a married couple that wishes, just wishes, that Afternoon Delights, Hotel Sex, or Anniversary sex, could come during random times of the day, conveniently when there’s no time of the month, gassy stomach bloat, constipation, or children around to bother or in their case, be bothered. OR telemarketers or the Mother In Law calling, or the dog whining at the bottom of the bed.

Yep. I went there. My next blog will be- ‘Why you shouldn’t blog about your sex life and humiliate your ultra, introverted husband.’

Stay tuned.

Feed your kids right dammit!

Okay- disclaimer alert- I am no Martha Stewart. Pfft. THAT’s been established.  I do not make my own canned vegetables from my garden. I am not Alicia Silverstone who only feeds prechewed all organic purified food to her children either! But then I’m not as bad as say, Roseanne or Peg Bundy, who I just picture making tater tot casserole and chicken wings for their families each night. I like tater tot casserole- but not EVERY night. So this is MY rant. MY blog, MY opinion. I’m just putting it out there. Yes, everyone has their own story. Yes, not everyone can afford fresh, organic groceries. But in my little head, here’s the thoughts that go rattling around and around. I’m not saying to be perfect. I’m saying to just take ownership.

I was watching The View at the gym while on the glider thingy. Not the elliptical, not a stairmaster, just something like the two combined. I’m usually there during LIVE with Kelly, but I was a little dawdly and got their late. If I’m not listening to Kelly Ripa, I’m mesmerized by the Brazilian Butt Lift infommercial that is always playing on one of the other screens. The gal that raised her butt up 1 1/2 inches is a hero in my book.

Okay, where was I? The View. I never watch this show. If I was on this show myself, I would just punch Elizabeth out, shake Barbara by the shoulders, get Joy an ice pack for her hot flashes and crawl in to Whoopi’s lap. She is usually the one I agree with the most. And low and behold, I agreed with Elizabeth today too. I blame the Super Moon. The topic was banning bake sales in schools to fight childhood obesity. I couldn’t believe that when Elizabeth started yammering, I was agreeing with her. She thinks it’s the parent’s job to feed their kids right. Eureka! But my speed sure increased on the glidey thingy since I was getting all fired up about their discussion. Schools banning bake sales isn’t what’s going to solve our country’s childhood obesity. How about the government banning crap in our foods? Or just let’s not ban anything and be responsible for our bodies.

Okay, I know. I seriously don’t have  the nutritional expertise, or the statistical chops to fight this argument but let me just get on my soap box for a minute here.

Americans are fat. We are. Go to other countries. They are less large. They talk about fat Americans in Europe. Now there’s fat people everywhere. But here, we’re fat. Why? Because we frickin’ invented fast food people!!! Wake UP!! This isn’t rocket science. Taco Bell’s 4th meal isn’t the most brilliant thing as a society we have come up with. Now I like me some Doritos. Not EVERY day. But I do like them. Does the taco shell made from a Dorito intrigue me? Hmm, maybe. Does it also disgust me? Hmm, you could say so.

There has got to be something better out there to spend $2 on.

Public Education is not doing so great in our country. Funding is cut every year. Because let’s face it, as a strong western civilization, it makes the most sense to balance our budget on the backs of our future even if it’s our children’s learning that’s at stake. (insert sarcasm here please,  thank you.)

I’m a member of the PTA. I have like a laminated gold card to the PTA. I drive a minivan for gosh sakes. Fundraiser is my middle name. We don’t do bake sales much any more. And yes, schools discourage sugary sweets brought in to class. Some teachers have banned cupcakes even on birthdays for your kid to bring in and share with the students. I had a summer birthday, so I never got that day to bring fancy cupcakes to school. I always wanted to though. There’s no soda in vending machines anymore. Good, soda is evil anyway. Juice and water are just fine. Energy drinks are banned too. That’s good, who knows what lab-created crap is in those things. But parents selling baked goods at a carnival, probably sponsored by the PTA to raise money for the school, gosh darn it, doesn’t seem like devil spawn to me.

There was a parent at my daughter’s school last year petitioning during the Walk A Thon to have a teacher stop giving Jolly Ranchers to the kids to reward good behavior, work turned in, keeping their mouth shut, who knows? Just whatever the teacher’s preogative is to hand out a Jolly Rancher here and there as a motivator! This petition was stupid. She had asked the teacher to not give her child any candy. This though creates an awkward situation where the kid is left not getting any candy while her classmates get candy. Okay, she can have a sticker. Nope, still not enough for this mom. So she doesn’t go to the principal, she doesn’t talk to the teacher again, she gets a petition going! How about just let your kid have a piece of candy?? Or if they don’t get a piece of candy, why do you have to spoil it for the rest?? I know candy isn’t necessary in schools. But just go with me here. We keep making such forbidden fruit out of everything for our kids. Ha, see what I did there?

We are denying them so many things like one piece of candy, yet we’ll drive through McDonalds for pink slime nuggets, or get ammonia ground hamburger at WalMart.  One of these days the children will rebel and there will be a coup and everyone will be reveling in Fritos and Ding Dongs while the parents look on in horror! Stop confusing our kids. Treats are treats- they should be used less often, on occasion.  So one piece of candy during the school day isn’t harmful. Maybe if everyone stopped feeding their kids modified crap for breakfast and dinner at home in the first place, behavior would be better and they wouldn’t need to bribe the little monsters with candy. (claps hand over mouth- I did NOT just say that!)

So, I guess what this brings me back to, is basic parenting and nutrition. Where did we disconnect from battling over breast vs. bottle to making it everyone else’s problem how our kids eat?

My kids DO NOT have the world’s most healthiest lunches. And yes, they have a metabolism that is Speedy Gonzalez fast. They could eat queso and pork rinds for a month and probably not gain weight. Would they be irritable sons of bitches because they’re going through vitamin deficiencies? Uh, YEAH!  But I buy real food at the store. I make dinner. We eat organic as much as possible. We eat fresh too. Do they always eat their vegetables? No. Do I give them their Gummi vitamins like crazy to make up for this? Yes!  Sometimes we eat out. Do we eat drive thru? Hardly ever. The other day my daughter and I had a cast meeting to go to right at dinner time. I had just finished making a batch of enchiladas. Seriously easy people, tortillas, cheese, sauce and beans with some sour cream. She didn’t have time to eat it before we left. I put it on a plate, grabbed a kitchen towel and a fork and she ate it in the car. No drive-thru needed. And yes- I had come home earlier from whatever else we had been doing and had 30 minutes to throw dinner together. I don’t always put my super cape on in the kitchen. Sometimes I order pizza. Sometimes we pick up Mexican from the family mom and pop restaurant down the street.

And if your kid doesn’t like a food that you’ve given them. Fine. Move on. Try something else. Introduce it another month prepared a different way. I hated mushrooms and zucchini when I was a kid. I love them now. Who would think lentils would grow on me? Kids have heightened taste buds, their senses are more sensitive than ours. Some things are gross. But their appreciation can change over time. My kids like edamame pods but hate green beans. They like black beans but not kidney beans. Sweet potato but not beets. You know, whatever works.

I just wish people would stop super sizing, stop drive-thruing, stop taking short cuts. Turn off the TV, get your kid outside to play and MAKE a meal.

Why, why in this country do we have so many food allergies and intolerances? Why in this country is Autism 1 in 88 children? Why in this country do we have the highest rate of MS? Why in this country are we dying from diabetes and heart disease?

WAKE UP PEOPLE! Maybe it’s your food. Stop stuffing your faces and actually find out where your food comes from. Be an advocate for yourself, and your kids. I realize that this isn’t the easy answer when it comes to all matters. Autism being one of them. I have many folks, I know that take wonderful care of their children with Autism and it isn’t because they fed them junk food. I’m not being cruel here people. But I’m trying to make a point for our generation and the generations to come.

I’m just saying start at home. Don’t rely on the schools, the government or anyone else for that matter to make sure your kid eats healthy. I live in suburbia. I wish I had my own goat, chickens and garden. But I don’t. So I shop locally, produce markets, butchers, wherever I can. I try anyway. Sure I buy some of the big brands like Kraft or Kellogg’s. But the more I read about GMOs, the more I reach for the alternative- organic, smaller brands.

Remember when you were a kid and your parents told you to clear your plate because there’s kids starving in Africa? And then you thought, how does me clearing my plate help feed a kid in Africa? It’s called gratitude, portion, and awareness. There’s still kids in Africa that are starving. There’s kids here starving. Money spent on wasted food doesn’t get donated to food pantries, food banks, churches… are you eating to live, or living to eat? Oh, god, don’t answer that. I live to eat, plain and simple. Okay, how about this-

Live simply, so others can simply live. My point is, take ownership of your food. Buy what you need. Buy what is wholesome and healthy. Treat yourself now and then. Don’t banish things. My house is loaded with candy, ice cream, snacks, chips. Do my kids eat it all the time? Heck no! I’m throwing out last year’s Halloween candy. And I don’t feel guilty about that. I’m kind of happy. Wasted candy doesn’t make me lose sleep. But also, it shows me that I’ve taught my children restraint. They know what’s good for them. I’ve nurtured them, I’ve educated them, and I guess I’ve set a good example. I don’t see treats as a threat, and I haven’t taught them that either.

Okay, see what I mean? I ramble, I don’t have any facts, it’s purely my own speculation. Well, hey, ask yourself, ‘what was the last thing I ate and do I know where it came from?’ <<steps off soap box, quietly walks out of room>>

From Corsets to Yoga pants; face it- we’ve all given up.

Have you noticed something? I mean, it’s not news or anything. We’re fat. Americans are fat. Okay we get it. But how in THEE hell did this happen?? (Rhetorical question, don’t really answer it, just play along okay?)

We are wearing tracksuits and yoga pants every damn day, and we just get fatter, and fatter….

We went from corsets, girdles and garters, to just garters, to women’s lib bra burning to sports bras, miracle bras, wonderbras… SPANX and dundadddaaa— Yoga Pants!!

We Americans wear our fitness gear ALL the time. We wear Yoga pants and don’t do yoga. We wear sweat pants and haven’t sweated.

We wear track suits and don’t go to the track. And yet…we got bigger, and bigger, and bigger! We should be a super elite society of athletes. But NO! We are a lazy bunch of couch potato, Wal-mart shopper, Frappachilly swirl shake drinking slobs! Pathetic I say! Pathetic!

Yes- I’m wearing Lululemon lounge pants as I write this. Because dammit, I am lazy. I don’t want to get up and put on control top hose, heels and pearls to do housework. How the hell did Donna Reed do that??

She's saying, 'oh look, I'm all dressed up to do the dishes.'

We went from wearing the most uncomfortable clothes, being thin, small-boned, floor scrubbing (unless you lived in the south, then your maid did all that for you) to having freedom, comfort, Lycra, and doing….nothing.

Okay- hold on to your Hanes Her Ways right there. Don’t get them all in a bunch. I am not here to say we are lazy. Not all of us. Just some of us. And me. I’m lazy. I admit this. I know we work hard. We raise our kids, work outside the home, volunteer with PTA, carpool, shop for organic groceries at Whole Foods, go to book club, wine club, Bunco club, church, Bible study. WE are soooooo busy!!

Do you see where I’m going with this? Simple equation- corsets, delicate ladies, tiny waists- fast forward 80 years- Lycra, elastic waists, knits = FAT ASS. Even our feet are getting bigger. Have you looked at vintage shoes? My feet are like a Chinese basketballs player’s foot compared to the ladies of our grandmother’s generation or before that.

Let's go run and get smoothies! -What I can't hear you my track suit makes this loud rustling sound!

I’m not making any scientific revelations here. I have no data to back anything up. This is just my opinion (cough <<bullshit>> cough).

What happened?

I remember a Seinfeld episode when George said if a man leaves his house in sweat pants he’s given up on the world. People? Have we given up?

I’m not saying pearls and hats and gloves, but how about  we go to work out in the work out attire, and then wear normal clothes in public? At least try?

Okay, I will. Just let me finish this Cinnabon here and my Starbucks and I’ll get right on that.

Happy “Bring your dog to the movie theater day” Hunger Games?

I know today is National Puppy Day. Does this mean folks can bring their dogs with them to public places at will? The thing about dogs in public, is this- you either have a service animal or you have a pet. Pets that are small and undetectable, if it’s not bothering me, I don’t really care. Yes, I see ladies at Target with Pomeranians in their cart. Weird. But does it upset me? Not really.

A large lab type dog breed, brought in against it’s will to be forced to sit on the movie theater floor during a 2 hour film is a different story.

I was seated towards the back. I see a couple come in and get seats towards the front. The woman sits down and the guy is dragging this dog on its leash. It’s clearly afraid, doesn’t want to be there or something. It is NOT a service animal. Maybe that’s what they told the folks at the front. I thought there was a no-pet policy at the theater. I guess you tell people it’s a service dog and they give you the ‘all clear’.  As far as I know, service animals don’t cower.

Soon after that, a family comes in with an infant AND a toddler. OH- did I mention I was seeing The Hunger Games? Yeah. Totally stoked for this movie. Read all three books a year ago and was anxious for its release. Am I bringing MY kids? Sure, later this weekend. They are almost 12 and 9, have read the books and can tolerate certain subject matter. Would I take them if they were 2? NO.

This family sits in the row directly behind me. Throughout the film, the baby made noises, not awful ones, just little squawks and sounds now and then. The toddler had to be taken out multiple times for its chatty-ness. Can’t blame the poor thing.

I love movies. My kids love movies. James and I usually go to a movie on date nights. Between the years of 2000 and 2006, I didn’t go to a movie unless it was a children’s film, or with James and we got a sitter. That is what happens when you have children. You make sacrifices. You make choices. It’s the way life works. You don’t drag your babies to whatever film you happen to want to see at the time just because YOU want to see it. It’s not fun for them, you or the fellow movie goers.

Yes, it’s real extravagant of me to be able to go to a movie in the middle of the day. Or is it? Actually, it’s quite thrifty of me. Ticket prices are cheaper. My kids are in school. I have other obligations for them in the evenings with their activities, or if James and I were to go together, we would have to pay for a sitter. So going to a movie in the middle of the day, is really like meeting a friend for lunch. About 15 bucks and a couple hours of free time.

So when I go to a movie. I like to enjoy it. I don’t like it ruined by animals or children. Call me a bitch, it’s just how I feel. I don’t know why people are so insensitive to the etiquette of going to the theater. Lately, I have to shush people, tell them to stop kicking my seat or glare at them for letting their kid play Doodle Jump on their iPad during the film. I’m a rule follower. I silence my cell phone, I don’t talk to my neighbor, I try to chew my popcorn only during the loud scenes and not during the poignant, quiet ones. I don’t rustle around in my purse for Red Vines. WHY can’t other people do the SAME??? Oh, and by the way, the dog chose to bark right when Katniss kissed Peeta in the cave.

If you don’t know the story, don’t go to the movie and ask your neighbor a bunch of questions towards the end during the climactic scene. I don’t want to overhear, “no remember the poison berries….yeah no, that’s in the second one….. oh, what about Gale…. does President Snow come back…..where’s Buttercup?” Geeze people!! SHUT UP!

I make sure my pets are safe at home during the day, and that my children are somewhere appropriate as well. Again- I’ve made the effort, so can THEY!

Consideration folks. It’s free. It’s not hard. Just takes a couple of seconds to think of someone other than yourself. If you use some consideration, your pets and children will thank you.

Oh yeah, Hunger Games was good. Go see it. Just check the theater for pets and babies first.

Skinny guys rule.

*And just let me say, I don’t mean fat people don’t rule, or regular, average size people don’t rule. It’s just for the sake of my skinnier than normal husband- okay?

In defense of skinny people that wish they weren’t so thin- this post is for you. (Seriously, not many have sympathy for you.)

Also, this is a chance for me to complain needlessly about the skinny people I live with. My husband and two children. I’m a size 6/8 and I’m the fat one. Please don’t take this the wrong way- I don’t want anyone griping at me for my gripes. You try living with Jack Sprat.

This will also be categorized under posts that my husband will roll his eyes at.

My husband is 6’2″ and about 150 pounds or so.  He’s 41 and has weighed the same since 1988. It’s really a freak of nature how he stays so thin. That, or he has a tapeworm.

Try being around a guy that is skinnier than you after you’ve passed week 16 of a pregnancy. I outweighed him most of the last 12 years. It’s a bitch.

I’m sorry James.

I’m always complaining about how I would like to lose 10 pounds. I USED to have a fast metabolism. And it’s not slow as a sloth slow, but it isn’t what it used to be. Pregnancy changed all that. I could put away a Mexican dinner at one setting. I barely exercised and you could see my ribs. I wore a size 2 easily. Now I fight for every pound to NOT gain. I have practically eliminated alcohol intake, have become a ‘sort of vegan’(The Reluctant Vegan). Work out. A few times a week. I definitely can do better. I love carbs. I love bread and corn. Popcorn, corn chips, tortilla chips. Corn is the bane of my muffin top. Bread is too. White bread sometimes with butter, but not since giving up dairy. Avocados are my new vice. With chips of course.  Curse them. My metabolism has predictably slowed. I’m almost 40. It’s bound to happen.

I remember in my 20s feeling upset over zits I had. Not serious acne, just troublesome, gross white heads on my chin. Ugh. It drove me nuts. I would make deals with God to clear up my skin. I would ask him if I could be 10 pounds heavier if I just had clear skin. My skin is clear now. What is the statute of limitations on deals with God?

Then there’s tapeworm boy (I’ll explain this later.): James will have a bowl of ice cream EVERY night. He can eat a bag of chips while he watches a football game. He never eats breakfast and he rarely exercises- hello? Two of Dr. Oz’s rules for losing weight- he breaks! He puts sour cream and cheese on everything. He can eat a box of Kraft mac and cheese. But then on the flip side- he’ll ‘forget’ to eat. Yeah, that’s such bull shit! He’ll work from home, have a latte in the morning, forget to eat, then at about 2 in the afternoon realize he’s famished. See? Total bull shit. Who does that? I am starved by 11 am and need 2nd breakfast like a Hobbit or something.

There was a time about 20 years ago he tried to bulk up. He protein loaded and worked out all the time. I think he put on about 5 pounds of muscle in about 4 months. Waaa, waa, waa. (That’s me fake-crying.)

I hate when his side of the family makes a big deal about his thinness. As if it’s something new. When was he ever chubby? Never!

It seems like Owen is following in James’ skinny footsteps. He’s a bean pole with no meat on him. A Jack Sprat type like his dad. He doesn’t like being asked about why he’s so skinny. James doesn’t really like it either. It’s not fun to poke fun at anyone’s appearance regardless if they’re skinny or fat. (“Real” women have curves- Really …?)

Recently, James is embracing his skinniness. Especially since his peers are starting that tire around the middle.  His brother jokes that he has a tapeworm. This makes total sense. He can only eat this much and NOT gain weight, if he was feeding a creature in his abdomen like Alien. Not to worry, he doesn’t exhibit any other signs of having a parasite. His cholesterol is safe, especially for his age (40s), and he’s otherwise healthy. So when we go out to dinner and he orders his Fettucini Alfredo with a side of garlic bread and a ceasar salad with extra cheese, he pats his tummy and says, “gotta feed the tapeworm”. Oh geez.

Well alright then. Hey, skinny guys rule. (James’ motto)

Plus, in 20 years when he’s 60, I think it will catch up with him. Now we just need to figure out his Mcdreamy head of hair. He’s had the same hair since high school too. Like I said- the guy is a freak of nature. In a nice way though. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Love you babe!

Some cute and skinny famous guys:

Andrew Garfield- cute, skinny, and English (oh and hair like James too!)

David Beckham- I'm not crazy for tats, but again- cute, skinny, English

Team Edward. Twilight haters hush up. Cute, skinny, English. Hmmm, I'm sensing a pattern here.

Adrien Brody. I'm not a huge fan. But of this picture I am. Oh, and not English. Skinny but ripped.

Cute. Skinny. not English or famous- but my favorite for sure. Gorgeous.

Smorgasbord

On today’s blog menu : Smorgasbord. Of the writing kind. There is no lingonberries or pickled herring. My apologies. Or, you’re welcome.

I have so much floating around in my head, I need to just get it all down. It’s like a solar flare in my brain. This must be why.

It goes something like this:

Birth control

Ugandan child rebel armies

Revlon color stay nail polish

Lindsay Lohan

Downton Abbey

See?? I told you!! What a mess. Please tell me I’m normal.

So the whole Douche Limbaugh birth control story got me fired up last week. Read here.. And then it was still in my craw this week. We are so seriously fucked up in this country that big Pharma gets billions of dollars for a guy to get his wanker up and we (females) get chastised if we don’t prefer to get our uterus inseminated. Millions of women go on birth control for dozens of reasons. To be perfectly honest, I was prescribed the Pill at a very young age to help stall the endometriosis that was wreaking havoc on my uterine wall. Because of the Pill, I have two beautiful children. After their births, I continued on the pill for some time to help the dysmenorrhea that plagued me and because, news flash- we were done having kids!

The world is different now. We can’t all just blaze a trail of procreation and have 7 kids each. Am I right? The Duggars are not my ideal. Can you imagine if we all had 20 kids? If you think there’s a problem now in our overcrowded world, then just wait.

Also- my pregnancies were both riddled with risks and problems. For myself and my children. I don’t want preeclampsia or preterm labor any more. Twice was good enough, thanks. If I die from kidney failure on my fifth kid, that doesn’t help the family much, does it?

I’m being really brazen here I know. But let’s not mince our words. Some of us like being pregnant and some of us think it’s seriously God’s vengeance on Eve. I’m in the latter in case you haven’t noticed.

So Rush- STFU! And by the way, I’m working on that sex video you wanted Sandra Fluke to post. It’s really good. (I’m totally kidding.) (Maybe.)

Then there’s the KONY 2012 video that is sweeping the world.

My take:

Yes- we need to stop Ugandan children from being pulled out of their beds at night and made into guerilla war pawns. We need to stop this from happening in ALL African countries.

We need to do our research and see what charities and organizations can be the most effective in this. Maybe it is the Invisible Children organization. Maybe it’s a different one. Some say it’s a scam. Some say it’s contrived and not worth the money and rates low on Charity Navigator. (like here) and (and here).  I will say this- Lisa Ling doesn’t self promote her documentaries she does for National Geographic and the Discovery Channel. This guy doing this movie seems a little pious in his zeal for his social network experiment to put him on the map. I might be wrong. But then again – he’s literally there in Africa doing something. SOMETHING. Not just sitting on a comfy couch blogging about it. Do what feels right. Not what the band wagon is riding on.

Revlon Color Stay Nail Color- I know, WTF? right? This is how my brain works. I’m worrying about orphans in Africa while doing my nails.

I am a self professed product whore (not THAT kind Rush), and I love me a shellac manicure. But they are EXPENSIVE. So I found Revlon has a new nail polish that says it has the same qualities as a gel manicure when used in conjunction with their base and top coats. And I will say <<applause>> they are kind of right. At about 6 bucks a bottle, this polish is a champ for staying put for at least a few days. Not 11 days like the ad says. But normally, my polish non-shellac kind, lasts about 24 hours. Revlon Color Stay Nail Polish.

Lindsay. Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay (sigh, shakes head). You are just not ready for the big leagues. Props to you for getting permission from the judge to leave town on your probation. (Snort, cough, did I just write that?) But you can’t pull of Saturday Night Live looking at the queue cards the whole time with your Restalyn injected face frozen into a half-smirk. If it wasn’t for Kristen Wiig in your major skits, you would’ve bombed worse than you already did. Try again another time sweetie.

(courtesy, crushable.com) This was super funny, despite L.LO being in it.

Downton Abbey- since when is Masterpiece Theater the shit? And I mean the shizzle, off the chain, Lord Grantham is in da house dawgs. Okay, was that too much Snoop Dogg circa 2002?

It’s just I love period pieces and I love snarky British people. It’s all Upstairs Downstairs 2012. It just captures the essence of what it’s like to be privileged, wealthy and cared for. OR, hard working indentured servant. Okay, they aren’t indentured. But I can’t decide more which group of folks I like better. The snappy hard ass Gran mama played by Maggie Smith? Or the conniving bitch of a maid Mrs O’Brien. It’s all just SO GOOD.

(courtesy pbs.org) Oh Maggie. You delight and surprise me every episode.

Mrs. O'brien, you are as classic a bitch as they come. (courtesy dailymail.uk)

Well, there you have it. My smorgasbord for the week. Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I think I might go do some calculus or something. And by calculus, I mean, watch Bravo TV and catch up on my DVR.

Holla!

P.S.

There’s a contest on Circle of Moms going on right now for the top 25 funny moms. I think I qualify. If you do too- click over on the badge to the right and vote for me. You can vote once a day and you can vote for other blogs too. I sure as hell ain’t gonna win, but if I made it in the top 25, my boat would sure float. Thanks!

Sluts and whores. Mr. Limbaugh is an expert.

Rush Limbaugh’s feet are so far in his mouth, his ears are wearing shoes.
Unless you’ve been under a rock the last two days, you know about him calling a college student a prostitute after her testimony for birth control to be covered for co-eds. (This article here Obama calls Sandra Fluke for support.)
What’s even worse than that first comment was the next one he said- “If we are going to pay for your contraceptives and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something for it,” Limbaugh said. “We want you to post the videos online so we can all watch.”
AYFKM????
Holy mother of fuckwits! Are you high Mr. LIMBAUGH? Wait, don’t answer that.

How on earth does that shit come out of your mouth? Did you have a Freudian slip and think about what you were going to do on your lunch hour? Troll the internet for co-eds having sex while using birth control?
The millions of dollars Clear Channel pays you must qualify you as an OB/GYN. Or a PhD in female studies. Because all women that get the Pill or IUDs, or Nuvarings, are loose labia-ed whores on street corners desperate to get laid. I guess. You are an expert on this.

You, Mr.Limbaugh were a virgin before wedlock, I am certain. RIGHT? Clearly those that live in glass houses can throw stones. I’m so glad you saved yourself for marriage. I mean, for the first wedding. Did you get your virginity replaced before the subsequent trio of matrimonies? Does your wife use contraception? Or did any of them? Because you don’t have any children. I’m guessing the rhythm method has been good to you. That, or God has saved us all from your seed, which should be proof to all liberal non-believers that there is in fact a God up there looking out for all of us.
I’m curious if you use Viagra or Pos-t-vac? Those are covered by insurance. It’s sick that you need to have so much sex that you need to have those things paid for by insurance companies. At least put it on the Internet for gosh sakes. Wait. Scratch that.

Oh, this is none of my business. You are right, neither is a women’s right to contraception, YOUR business.

Asshat.

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