Where's the Beav? Oh right, he doesn't live here because I am a shitty homemaker.

Day 1: Leaving our vacation home. Friend says, "oh you should take some of this food since you're driving." She packs away some ripe bananas for me. Ugh. I hate fruit.

Day 2: Look at bananas now sitting on counter. Looking at bit brown now. Channel my mother and think to self, "Self, you need to make banana bread so that food doesn't go to waste." Fail to channel self and recognize actual cost of bananas.

Day 3: Bananas looking bad. Say to husband, "Husband, we need to make banana bread with these, they're going bad." Check the cabinet - shortening expired in 2006. Channel my mother again while I consider using 3 year expired food product. Good sense returns. Throw in trash. Add to shopping list. Discover expired baking soda. Add to list. No flour. No sugar. Add all to list. Husband shops. I procrastinate. Bananas get worse.

Day 4: Bananas start to melt into counter. Get off ass to make bread. Combine all ingredients in bowl. Proud of self. Take hand mixer & bowl into bathroom. Mix with door shut as not to wake child. (This is what people in 1100 sq feet do.) Put in oven. Set timer for 1 hour.

52 minutes later. Writing this blog post. Think to self, "I don't think I recall putting sugar into that bowl. Was sugar supposed to go in that bowl?" Check recipe. F*ck forgot sugar.

So let's tally up the carnage:

To save 3 melting bananas (that weren't even mine), I...

1. bought a giant tub of shortening that will likely expire and collect dust in my cabinets for the next 4 years.
2. bought baking soda which is essentially useless unless you bake, which I clearly do not.
3. bought flour which I also rarely use and will likely be tossed in our next move.

June Cleaver, I am not.

Tripp Trapp Paddy Whack, Buy Michael Vick a Bone....

People, it's just a fact that I don't have time to write thoughtful humorous things anymore. It's for all the usual shitty reasons so I'll spare you the excuses. My life is insanity and not in the "ironic, humorous, good blog fodder" kind of way but rather the "bad, exhausted, hating life way". One hundred and ten percent of the reason for my bitterness is work related so it was an ideal time for my mother-in-law to show up. Seriously. I'm not being funny. She does some crazy shit, but I seriously do like her. She took care of my kid and my house while I was freaking out about powerpoint decks. Her timing couldn't have been more impeccable.

She did decide that our feeding situation was unacceptable. The result was the procurement of a brand new $350 Swedish high chair and all the requisite accessories. So after working for the last week at breakneck pace, I kicked back and assembled a Tripp Trapp yesterday evening.

She also came armed with a gift for our dear daughter. It's a 24" Kathe Kruse doll named Missi...that has human hair....and wears a drindl. It cost more than the Swedish high chair. I sometimes see Missi at night and think she's going to come into my room and kill me. I don't think I like her. I also wonder whose hair is sewn in her head. I find that mildly creepy.

Oh, here's something else that's really creepy. So I've previously expressed my distaste over physical contact in the workplace. Please feel free to review the link if you need a refresher. A few mornings ago I wake up in a panic because I just had a dream. It was one of those dreams that's so real and vivid that you can feel it. I dreamt that I got drunk and hooked up with one of my co-workers.

One small point of clarification: I went to high school and college in the 90's and our definition of hooking up was not sex, so all you people out there thinking I'm having dreams about diddling my co-workers can just calm down. This was strictly PG.

So I push this all to the back of my mind and go to work. As soon as I walk in the office I see him and I feel really weird and silly. He's trying to talk to me and I'm literally running away to hide in my office. I am disturbed that I feel so weird. (It was an honest to god physical reaction of pure nervousness. How totally insane is it that your brain can mess with you like this?)

I'm trying to act normal but it's likely coming across as slightly retarded. In my head I'm wondering how he can act so normal. DOESN'T HE FEEL AWKWARD FOR GOD'S SAKE?? Clearly this is insane since our entire "incident" happened in the confines of the space between my ears. However, every time I see him I feel the need to run away.

I truly hope this subsides by next week. Sitting around staff meetings, grinning like an idiot and averting my eyes can't be good for my career.

Before I call it a night here, I just want to redirect everyone's attention to the fact that the Eagles just picked up Michael Vick. Douchebaggery like his is rare and special. I had really hoped that whole dog fighting ring business would have put him out of commission for good. I wanted him to rot in prison, if not for the dogs, then for being a complete idiot - he pissed me off enough to write about it. That's a lot considering my general apathy toward sports. Here we are, two years later and lo and behold, my own NFL team decides to pay him millions. Bastards. The only possible up side to this is that I can't wait to watch the PETA freaks attack the drunks in the 700 level at the Linc. Game on Pam Anderson. Welcome to Philly.

Butt Floss for the Elitist

What in the hell is this?   I have questions. Please feel free to answer them.

• Do you wear it or put it on your wall? 
• Does that text wrap all the way around to your ass crack or is that a quote on the packaging?
  
• Is Quaker guy, John Greenleaf Whittier, rolling over in his grave? 
• Do you think he knew back in the 1890's that his poetry would some day be featured on someone's hoo ha?
  
• Who pays $13 for a white cotton thong?
  
• Why does it only come in size 0-4? Are larger women not allowed to wear Quaker poet butt floss?

Please help.

Or alternately, if you should decide you want to own this item - here is the link on Amazon.

Sweet Valley High Anyone?

I have an embarrassing story to tell.

So I'm very bad at bringing books to the airport with me so I usually have to schlep over to the Hudson News and buy one before I go to my gate. Yes I know this is a total waste of money. Nine times out of ten it's some lousy book that I don't remember 10 minutes after I finish it, but the point is that it kept me occupied on the flight.

There are roughly 4 types of books in the airport book store:
1. The Self Help books - and you seriously need some if you're buying that shit in the airport.
2. The God books - this is all inclusive of "I hate God", "I found God", "God Loves You Too" and generally anything with the word Enlightenment in the title. These could also be written by someone famous or sort of famous like that creepy Osteen guy. (I suspect he's really an alien like the people on V - tell me that smile doesn't scream, "I'm really a reptile hiding in a rubber human suit.")
3. The Pseudo Business books - think...7 Habits of Highly Effective People only really, really bad. These may also be written by vaguely famous people whom you care nothing about.
4. The Romance books

I hate the first three so I'm stuck with Romance. I further sub-categorize these into Woman Romance and Man Romance. I think we're all familiar with the former - two people with seemingly impossible odds meet and have serious sexual tension, they can't be together, they shouldn't be together, they do it (must involve pages and pages of narrative about how good the sex is), they profess their undying love, then tragically one of them manages to screw something up (alternate plot line - 3rd party screws something up and causes huge ridiculous misunderstanding), they separate and all looks lost until....they realize they must be together and reunite to live happily ever after. Amen.

The Man Romance is cleverly disguised as spy thrillers, military books & mystery novels. Invariably they follow the same plot line only they include action scenes, guns, gadgets and typically the females involved are hot, in distress and need to be saved by the male character (must involve pages and pages of narrative about how hot the female character is, however sex is covered in roughly a single sentence). Amen.

Infrequently I find a book that doesn't suck. This is what happened when, quite by accident, I picked up Twilight. I knew nothing about it other than the book blurb looked not-sucky. I liked it alot. Probably a little more than I should have. I think I may have reread the ending more than once. I was a little sad when there was nothing left to read.

This is where it gets embarrassing.

My mother sees the book sitting on my entry table and says, "Hey, is this that book that all those 13 year old girls are going crazy over at the mall?". Hmmmmm. Apparently the answer is yes. Much like Harry Potter, this is one of those books that is designed for the "tween" set yet loser adults like me all over the country are reading it anyway. I had absolutely no idea. I'll admit to being a Harry Potter fan without any embarrassment. Somehow this seems slightly less respectable - teen vampire romance? Seriously, what is wrong with me? Apparently my reading comprehension is roughly 7th grade.

This is where it gets really embarrassing.

I discovered today that there are 3 more books in the series. I went to Amazon and bought them all. I think I'm secretly a 13 year old girl and I don't care what any of you have to say.

Ode to the Tamarind

This is awesome. Of all the people I've insulted over the years, this is certainly the most ridiculous. Some of you may recall a post of mine back in April about the time my husband dragged me to the Aldi when we were first living together.

This morning as I was enjoying my morning coffee (with caffeine, I don't care what you say about me) I looked in my email and found that some offended Spanish person had commented on this post.

"Offended Spanish Person said...
Typical white people. spicy latin foods make you instinctively go yuck!

Tamarind is a fruit. It is grown in pods, similar ot beans, and is popular in latin areas liek the carribbean and central/south america and southeast asia.

It's amazing how something can be popular in more than half the globe and white people have no idea it exists,now you know how we feel about bland, flavorless foods like wonderbread that you people seem to LOVE.

P.S. If you had been less lazy and maybe read the packaging you wouldn't have bought them. How hard is it to notice in big letters FRUTAS ENCHILADAS: aka fruits IN CHILIS!""

Yes, that's me. Just your typical Wonder Bread eating white person. My mother might have an aneurysm if she read that. Call her a progressive hippie tree hugger, but don't ever say she fed her children Wonder Bread. She would sooner die than feed us bread that was softer than a paving stone!

So I would like to respond to this poor offended Spanish person.

Dear Offended Spanish Person,
Please accept my heartfelt apologies. I in no way intended to offend the tamarind fruit or the culinary palate of "half the globe". I can certainly commiserate with your disdain for Wonder Bread. Perhaps you should also put Marshmallow Fluff and hydrogenated peanut butter on that list of bad food of the white man. Hell, I might also suggest adding - Hamburger Helper, Kraft Mac-N-Cheese and a helping of SPAM for good measure.

Indeed, it appears I was a bit lazy in not carefully inspecting the packaging. Certainly this product was in it's primary market. (I'm certain that neighborhood consumes tamarind by the truckload.) Clearly it was an error on my part to assume that I would find sugary sweet delight in the Jolly Rancher bag.

And finally, I must apologize for my lack of sarcasm and poor writing skills in the aforementioned post. Quiet honestly I could give a shit about the Tamarind or the chili lollipops. The real intention was to poke fun of my husband and his love of all things German. Clearly I missed the mark. I am shamed to admit that my humor must have been overcome by my vicious "instinctive white people hate" of Latin food.

Hallelujah! It's like uncovering childhood abuse through hypnotic therapy. Who knew I had such a fondness for squishy delightful white bread. Your comment on my post has opened up a whole new world to me. I think I'll go make myself a fluffer nutter right now.

I do hope you can forgive me and I think I speak on behalf of all white people everywhere when I tell you that we mean no harm to your "fuit, grown in pods, similar to beans". We just can't help ourselves, we're culturally stunted by consumer products and our oppressive parents.

Sincerely,
An Enlightened White Person

How to be a Good Housewife and Domestic Goddess

I was reading back through David Sedaris pieces in the New Yorker and I came across “The Way we Are”. This particular piece got me thinking about roles in relationships. He talks about how people want to know who is the “man” and who is the “woman” in his partnership. (And not just the dirty way you’re thinking!) I started to wonder if there are still people out there that adhere to gender roles? What is this? 1952!

Back in the day, my grandfather was the man of the house. He did man’s work and my grandmother did woman’s work. My grandmother washed and ironed. My grandfather mowed the lawn and fixed stuff around the house. My grandmother cooked and cleaned. My grandfather went to work, while she stayed home with the children. Never shall the two cross the gender lines.

Mommom put out three meals a day and dessert. Every day. Seriously…without exception. Brunch was a non-starter in her household. In fact, if you woke up at 10AM and ate something, you were expected to eat again at noon. Hunger was irrelevant, it’s the clock that matters.

Now that my grandmother is at my parents house I think she’s a little confused. My parents eat early, eat late, sometimes eat once a day. If you eat after 7PM she says things like, “Well whadya know, we’re eating like rich people!”. In the event you are confused (don’t feel bad, I was as well), she’s of the belief that rich people eat later than their less fortunate counterparts. Perhaps this was true when working folk went to bed early to get up at the ass crack of dawn to work in the fields. Now I think most people don’t eat until 7 because more than 80% of us are two income households and aren’t home to start dinner until after 6ish anyway. I think lately the schedule irregularities have led her to eat all the time. My mother has started hiding her Activia Yogurt since Mommom consumes about 8 a day (she thinks they’re pudding). I don’t want to know what 8 Activias do to your digestion - it’s best not to speculate.

As you may recall, over the Christmas holiday I stayed at my parent’s house. I was late for the wedding we were attending that day and was ironing my dress like a woman with her hair on fire when my grandmother commented to my husband, “She’s a good girl, she certainly isn’t lazy, is she?”. Apparently laziness is a very bad quality in a wife. Lazy wives were probably the ones that didn’t scrub floors on their hands and knees or welcome their husbands with martinis at the door at 5 o’clock each evening. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

My parents were a little less traditional. My mother went back to work when we were older. My father cooked breakfast on the weekends and washed the dishes most evenings while my mother dried them. We had a cleaning lady when my mom was working. Since my father retired he now does most of the laundry and cleans.

My husband and I are decidedly non traditional. We divide household duties not by gender roles but rather by who hates a particular activity less or who doesn’t suck at it. I don’t mind dusting, he dislikes it. He doesn’t iron well, I do. He doesn’t mind laundry, I’m not so fond. I don’t like cleaning toilets, he tolerates it. We both like cooking so we share. He has an interest in decorating choices (I’m not sure if this can be considered progression. It’s more annoying than anything else. It makes me wish he liked soccer so he had something to distract him away from furniture choices.) If a situation calls for sweet talking, it’s all him. Since I’m the mean one with the razor sharp tongue, I handle laying the smack down.

And here’s the bad news – sometimes he does my stuff and sometimes I do his and for anything that isn’t “officially” on the unofficial list we make a list and divide up the chores.

I know what you’re thinking – “Oh my god, you both are so progressive! You guys are our heroes! A shining example of how to share responsibility.” Yea, not really. Think about your office – if it’s not someone’s “job” to do something then no one feels responsibility to get it done because no one wants to spend time doing something that’s not their job. There’s also a decided lack of leadership since we’re “equal partners”. Sort of explains the general mess in our house.

Perhaps we need a chore list. We can give ourselves gold stars every week when we complete them. I like gold stars. Hmmmm…that brings back memories. You know what, my sister and I did housework every week. Now that I think about it, this was perhaps my mother’s solution to her own work. My household growing up was like a 3rd world country without child labor laws. My sister and I were easy pickins.

Apparently gender roles serve a purpose – it kept the family unit humming. Everyone knew their job and did it. I think someone didn’t think through this feminism thing before they started blowing apart the nuclear family structure.

I can hear it now.

“You stupid tart, are you suggesting that you should be scrubbing floors and making pies instead of climbing the executive ladder? You are a disgrace to all women, everywhere. We’re going to beat you to death with our very practical feminist shoes while we smother you with our armpit hair!”

Put down the shoe you hairy behemoth! What I’m actually suggesting is that someone needs to be in charge and someone needs to be responsible for the household chores. We can pay someone to clean the house and I can be in charge (in charge = write a check on a bi weekly basis because my husband doesn’t like being in charge of paying bills).

So what have we learned from this really long ramble?
1. Martinis are best at 5 o’clock
2. Don’t over eat something that’s intended to “regulate” your digestive system
3. Gold stars are cool
4. Have children or adopt from a 3rd world country – they’re both cheap labor
5. Write a check every 2 weeks so you don’t have to live in a cyclone



Picture credits (mostly): http://www.porthalcyon.com/features/200409/housewives.shtml

Darwin Sorts Us All Out Sooner or Later

I really can't look at that crack rash for one minute longer so here's a new post.

Let's talk stupid* for a minute.



This is a direct quote from the AP article titled "$5M Lawsuit: My Commercial Looks Lewd".

"The 37-year-old woman claims in her lawsuit that she did not "consent to or authorize the use of her likeness, picture, image or name to simulate a female having an orgasm or otherwise experiencing sexual pleasure."

"Indeed, the music to the commercial is bump-and-grind burlesque type music, which further provides the advertisement with a decidedly pornographic look, feel and sound," states the lawsuit, which was filed Monday in Manhattan's state Supreme Court.

The plaintiff, identified only as Jane Doe, says in court papers she won the role in the commercial for Szul Jewelry Inc. in November. She says the idea was that an average guy would get a woman excited by putting a necklace on her.

Three-fourths of the filming of the commercial, shot Nov. 9 by Q2 Entertainment in a studio in Queens, involved a comedic story line, but the woman later was told to sit and feign excitement for a few seconds while the young man put the necklace on her, the lawsuit says.

After that scene, the court papers say, the director told her to fake excitement while lying down, without smiling.
"He asked her to keep repeating the action until he thought he got the most authentic looking film piece," they say."

There's "excitement" and then there's "excitement". So the garden variety excitement I tend to think of is like kids at Christmas shouting for joy or the little victory dance that people do when something good happens.

So when was the last time that you sounded like this when you weren't naked? Ummm, how about never. So I think it's pretty reasonable to say that if someone asked you to act excited while lying down and not smiling, you might be a little suspicious about what they're going to do with footage of you moaning away like drunk sorority girl - no?

Here's item number two, again directly from the AP Article:

"The plaintiff, who is a married graduate student in elementary education, "has worked hard to project a wholesome image and has been extremely careful to avoid doing any work in the industry that would cheapen or tarnish her reputation," the lawsuit states."

This woman plans to educate children? I'm surprised she can walk out of the house without accidentally losing her clothes or getting pregnant. This woman should be kept far away from impressionable young people because clearly she is as smart as my left shoe. Perhaps her "lying down and showing excitement while not smiling" will prevent my future offspring from being exposed to such blatant stupidity.

See, occasionally fate steps in and saves us all from the weakest link.



*I recognize that perhaps she's just amoral and looking for a quick buck. That said, I probably would think less of her than if I she were just stupid.