It's Omos Christmas

I don't have time to post right now but just wanted to say I'll be back within the next few days with several exciting posts:

1) Top Movie of 2008. Patrick suggested this and I love the idea--we're going to go through every single movie that was out in 2008 to remember what we saw then pick the winner.

2) New Years Resolutions.Self explanatory.

3) Guest post from Wednesday.I am going to try to bribe Wednesday to write a post. Hopefully it will be as good as Matthew's post. (I was going to link to it but can't find it now).

Ok, well Wednesday is telling me I "do too much blog" so I have to sign off now.

Twitter in Real Life and My Fimlmaking Debut

Prepare for awesomeness:

Rash

Patrick (otherwise known as the best husband in the universe) is slaving away with our friend, Keith, creating a custom-built closet for us. Keith is like me--gets on a jag with something and can keep going for hours. Well, except that he has actual talent--woodworking (besides being an MD)--and my main talent is obsessively sitting in front of a computer. Anyway, my point is that they're still working away and it would be too rude for me to just go to sleep while they're slaving away to build me this fancy closet.

Meanwhile, I'm having some kind of allergic reaction and my body feels like it's on fire itching and burning like crazy. Keith looked at me and told me my skin is "mottled"--I guess it's like a rash but not bumps--and told me to take Benadryl. So I had to take it, yet I can't fall asleep because they're still working.

So what's a girl to do to entertain herself and stay awake? Blog, I guess, since even I'm getting tired of reading my own tweets. That's one thing about Twitter--it's kind of depressing, if you think about it--it's the equivalent of just spouting off random 140-character comments to yourself, most of the time to no response or anything.

Here's the thing: if you're doing it in writing using Twitter you're cool; if you did the same thing out loud to yourself you'd be schizophrenic. Someone needs to make a spoof video of that the same way they made that great one about Facebook in real life. Someone just walking around, muttering 140 character tweets to themself. I thought I was bad but there are some people out there who are pretty pathetic with the amount of tweeting they do. I won't name names but there is one social media huge wig who, in addition to being a very prolific blogger, is on Twitter CONSTANTLY. It's to the point that it's uncomfortable to read it because he's just rambling on and on and on and on.

Kind of like me now. Sorry--that's the benadryl typing.

Happy Holidays!

Click "play" and wait till the ad ends (a few seconds) then enjoy the awesomeness of the online holiday photo card, from us to you!

Make a Smilebox greeting

Facebook Offline?

This video is hilarious and, frankly, kind of makes you feel like a moron if you're on Facebook.

Entertainment Recap

I realized it's been a while since I've posted about books, movies and/or TV shows.

Here are some recent favs:

1) The Zygote Chronicles by Suzanne Finnamore. A while back, I posted about another one of her books, Split, and, while I thought it was ok, I was sort of underwhelmed by it. The Zygote Chronicles, though--that's another story. This book is incredible. I don't know if it's just because reading has become such a novelty to me lately or what, but I was just transfixed by this book. You need to read it and tell me if I'm just crazy or if it really was as awesome as I think it was. It also totally changes my perspective as far as Split goes--I now understand why she was so swoony and obsessed with her husband.

2) Mad Men. Maybe 6 months ago, after hearing my mom, sister and another friend rave about some mysterious show, Mad Men, I decided to see what all the hype was about. I came in about mid-season 2 and was hooked. Now I'm watching season 1 and it's so good it's crazy. Basically the entire show consists of a bunch of guys lounging around a Manhattan office, chain-smoking, constantly chugging drinks, and telling the "girls" how they should be dressing to best accentuate their "strengths." (read: tits and/or ass.) All I can say is this: if you haven't seen it, you need to either buy the whole thing and load it on your iPod, or at least rent the DVDs or something--whatever you have to do, just watch it.

3) Movies:

• Transporter 3--I gave it a 3: one point for the fact that Jason Statham is hot as shit, one point because the girl he's with is adorable with red hair, freckles and the bluest eyes you've ever seen, and one point because the driving is awesome. If you know me, you know that if I give a movie a 3, it's horrible. Patrick also gave it a 3, but that's a pretty good rating for him.


• Twilight--since we saw it on he heels of seeing Transporter 3 it was pretty good. I give it maybe a 5. Again, not a great rating for me, but not horrible. I forget what Patrick gave it and he's asleep on the sofa next to me now so I can't ask him; I believe if I were to ask him he'd say he gave it a 2 or maybe a 3. Just FYI--a bit of Patrick movie trivia for you--his most hated movie is Bug.


• This Christmas--I blogged about this awesome movie last year, and it was no less awesome the second time around. I said it then and I'll say it again now: black Christmas is a lot more festive than white Christmas.

America, You Should Be Ashamed

First there's Thanksgiving--the holiday where Americans are supposed to take the day to feast and reflect on all we're thankful for. Then comes "Black Friday"--the day we're all supposed to get up at 3am to start the holiday buying frenzy. You know, because we're in a recession and everyone's either lost half their net worth, their job, or their house--or two or more of the three--and we are all supposed to go spend a ton of money we don't have to fix the economy.

These patriotic citizens were SO enthusiastic in their pursuit of righting the economy by spending money at Walmart that they collectively killed an employee.

This is my favorite paragraph in the story:

A Wal-Mart worker was killed Friday after "out-of-control" shoppers desperate for bargains broke down the doors at a 5 a.m. sale. Other workers were trampled as they tried to rescue the man, and customers shouted angrily and kept shopping when store officials said they were closing because of the death, police and witnesses said.

I could say a lot more but will let you savor the story yourselves.

Excellent Thing One Million and One About Facebook

If you read this blog you know of my love for/obsession with Augusten Burroughs. If you don't read this blog: I LOVE Augusten Burroughs and am obsessed with him. The ONLY negative thing I have to say about him is that his website is an absolute usability cluster fuck--I must say that it's quite possibly the worst website I've ever seen. The only one that I can think of that may be worse is Ass Matrix--a totally crude site so I'm not sullying my blog by linking to it (if you're thinking of checking it out and are reading this at work, I'd advise you to wait until you're home because it is sort of, um, pornographic--but hilarious).

At any rate, I was checking his page out to see if he has a blog--the jury is still out on that one because I can't tell if what's on there is actually a blog--and saw that he says he'll answer questions on his Facebook page.

Naturally I went to find his page and can't believe it--he honestly does interact on a regular basis with his fans. I'm sorry but in what other way would millions of people be able to have direct access to an author and/or celebrity (he is, of course, both) on an ongoing basis? Maybe, MAYBE you could be lucky enough to have him come to your town and do a reading or something ONCE and get him to answer a question, but otherwise--forget it. Now you can go on Facebook, ask whatever you want, praise him, whatever--and he is there, in all his awesomeness, responding to people?

Score another point for social media.

I'm Baack!

Geez, long time no post. I was away on a business trip--the good part of which was that I was with my sister, Cassie. It was fun to work a meeting again--I hadn't done one in a few years. This was a convention with 12,500 attendees--probably at least 10,000 of whom were young 20-something girls who all looked like J Crew models. I definitely felt 40. Luckily, I got home Saturday night and Sunday at 5 pm was Botox.

Remember my strip mall Botox doctor, the one who wanted me to do marketing for him in exchange for free treatments? Unfortunately it turned out that what any intelligent person could have told me was true: strip mall Botox is no good. He may as well have been injecting saline that maybe sat next to Botox during shipping, because it lasted all of about a month--if that. So it was back to the regular Botox party with the guy who uses enough to render your face expressionless for a good 4-6 months.

For the uninitiated, a Botox party is when you get together a group of ladies and all get injections together--it's cheaper that way because the doctor doesn't have to open a vial to shoot up one person then have to waste the rest. The funny part to me is that half the women there don't tell their husbands they get Botox. They all had to come up with stories about why they were running out for an hour and a half at 5 pm on a Sunday night. That and then showing up at home with a bunch of little welts all over their faces. Not to mention $400 missing from the checking account. But I digress...all I know is that my wrinkles are vanishing as I type this.

Speaking of you, Cassie--did you know I tagged you to do 5 fun facts about yourself? Better get to work on that; even Penelope Trunk responded.

And speaking of Penelope Trunk--who, yes, I blog about almost as much as I blog about Stuff White People Like and Augusten Burroughs--had a good post last week that dovetails with this post and my last one.

Stand By Your Man...So He Can Step Over You When He Leaves You Destitute?

If you read this blog you know I'm big on forming opinions and recommending books before I've read them. In that vein, I'm about to have an aneuyurism about this book before I've read it so naturally need to blog about it.

I'm still reading Leslie Bennett's The Feminine Mistake and am even more obsessed with it than I was after the first time. I don't see how you can argue with her advice. Granted, it's a bitter pill to swallow--namely, that women shouldn't give up their careers to stay home to raise their kids. It's a message that I'm not entirely comfortable with; after all,I stayed home with my kids for 8 years.

However I am the first to admit that, while am grateful I had that choice for the sake of my kids, I am also the first to admit that Bennetts is right; while it was good for my kids to have had a mom at home with them, ultimately, it's more important to have a mom who is able too keep them in a home--and fed and clothed--in the first place. And you can't do that in the long run if you don't have a job, a pension (or 401k) and enough years in the workforce to accumulate enough Social Security credits to be eligible to receive benefits in your own right when you retire. (After all, can you really bank on the fact that a woman "may be" eligible for Social Security benefits as a result of her husband's work?)

Maybe it's because I was dependent on a man and experienced where that got me that I'm so passionate about this subject. It is incredibly easy to convince yourself that you will never have a financial care in the world as long as your man has a job. After all, millions of women do it, right? But what about the fact that millions of women also get divorced or become widowed?

While most people would never dream of going without car or health or home insurance, women don't think twice about the fact that opting out of the workforce for any appreciable amount of time (or maybe even any time at all) is a far riskier choice than going without insurance. The thing about going without insurance is that it doesn't matter until it matters, at which point it's too late to go back and get that insurance after all. Same with being financially dependent on a man--if you haven't worked in 5, 10 or more years and your husband leaves you or dies--or you leave him--you are, in all likelihood, screwed.

Sure, there's child support. All $384 a month of it in my case. I defy you to provide food and shelter for your kids on that. You get the house, right? Nope--not unless he either gives it to you outright or gives you use and possession for a few years, during which time you probably still have to pay the mortgage. Well, if you have to sell the house you get half the profits, right? Sure--if you actually make a profit--which, in this economic climate isn't anywhere near a given. But he has family money--you get half of that, right? Nope--anything he came into the marriage with is his and his alone and doesn't figure into the 50/50 equation.

Alimony--forget it, as far as being a long-term solution. These days it's restorative alimony only; the law no longer considers women to be incapable of supporting themselves and therefore needing or being eligible to have their ex-husbands support them even after the marriage. And so on...you get my gist. Fine, then--I'll just get a good lawyer and make him pay. Got $50,000 of your own to spend on litigation if you haven't worked in years?

Still think having a man is the only financial plan you'll ever need?

Enter Beside Every Successful Man: A Woman's Guide to Having It All, "...a guide for helping one's man achieve success (and, thus, get one's own in the process)."

I have to stop here and go purchase this book to see if it is actually as ignorant as that little synopsis makes it sound.

Tis the Season

I'm trying to muster up some creativity and/or motivation to write anything at all but am just coming up dry. Winter sucks. I just read some article in the Washington Post about a new treatment for depression using a big magnet; alas, it costs $6,000 to $8,000 and I'm sure insurance doesn't cover it.

Well, since everyone knows that laughter is the best medicine (well, other than Xanax) but I'm too blah to go search for something new and funny, here's one from the Motherwhatnowredux archives:

What's the WPE Quotient on This One?

Those of you who already read this blog know what WPE means (not by virtue of your own parenting, of course); if you're new, WPE = Worst Parent Ever. As opposed to Best Parent Ever. Naturally I am a BPE. Wink.

I've been meaning to blog about this for a while but working, freelancing, writing my other blog, playing computer games--oh, and of course, parenting--take up a lot of time and sadly, Motherwhatnowredux often doesn't get the attention it deserves. It used to be that nobody read Mizz Information so I didn't pay too much attention to it. Now, though, that I'm an official social media nerd, actual social media people read that blog--and even write about it. Or mention me by name (I'm the Maggie you're supposed to tweet congrats to--even though I did nothing but let viral networking do its thing--I'll take the kudos anyway).

Anyway, though, back to my original point: WPE. You've all probably heard of "safe haven" laws that allow true WPE--the ones that put their newborn babies into dumpsters or try to flush them down the toilet--to do the leave-the-baby-in-a-basket-on-the-hospital-steps-and-run without penalty thing. Safe haven laws allow true WPE to become the ultimate BPE--the kind who put the health and safety of their kids above all else.

At least, that's the case if we're talking about newborns. Nebraska, however, says why limit it to newborns? Raising a kid--and, mind you, in Nebraska "kid" means anyone up to the age of 19--is a hard job and sometimes you have to just throw in the towel. That hormonal 12 year-old girl getting on your nerves? Drive her to Nebraska and drop her off at any hospital--no harm, no foul.

My favorite part of this whole story is this quote, by Nebraska Sen. Arnie Stuthman:

“The main interest I have is that it gives the mother or a parent another option of what to do with a child before they do something drastic.”

Drastic like, say, driving the kid to Nebraska and abandoning them forever?

Fock the Vote

I didn't vote.

There, I said it..and believe me, I debated about saying it--or about blogging about it at least. How pathetic is it that in this great free country of ours I seriously had to think twice about making the fact I didn't vote a matter of the public record. We all know the possible ramifications of posting drunken photos of yourself on Facebook or other personal-yet-public acts that could potentially tarnish future job prospects...maybe admitting you're a non-voter is just as bad? Or worse?

I'll tell you this much: people sure have strong feelings about it--just check out the comments on Penelope Trunk's "Did you vote today?" post. Why is it with the issue of voting people feel so free to get in your face and tell you how it's basically a crime not to vote--either a crime or something only a moron wouldn't do? It would never occur to me to care whether or not someone voted--why would anyone care if I do or not?

I didn't specifically mean not to vote--had there not been a line at the polling place this morning I would have cast my vote for Obama (had I voted I would have voted for Obama...so if he doesn't win I guess I'm personally responsible) and gone on with my day. Maybe even gone to get my free donut at Krispy Kreme, some free coffee at Starbucks and then some free ice cream at Ben & Jerry's. But there was a line, so I figured I'd just go back later.

Then I was driving home and it was pouring and I really wasn't feeling the idea of so much as parking my car and walking into the school--let alone waiting in any sort of line. It was then that I realized that if such petty stuff was making me dread going to vote, voting is not actually that important to me. Looking for validation, I logged onto Facebook and searched for "didn't vote" thinking surely there would be some group of thousands of non-voters to justify my decision.

Yes, there is a group: League of Non-Voters...with 85 members. Surely there are more than 85 non-voters to offset the 4,265 members of "Rock the Vote."

All I know is that, as ambivilent as I was about voting, when I read the description on the League of Non-Voters page, I realized it isn't about the lines or the rain--I am actually making a conscious decision not to vote. That description sums up exactly how I feel:

"This group is for everyone who is tired of being sold out by politicians, tired of the "lesser of two evils," the unconscionable lies, the fancy suits and expensive dinners, the photo ops, the cardboard patriotism, the war that neither party will end, and the closed political universe that banishes any real possibility of change...This group is the party against politics and for a truly democratic future."

THAT is a sentiment I would have stood in line to endorse.

I'm writing this post with my phone so if it works I'm going to be super psyched--as will you, readers--because I'll be able to blog even without a computer.

The kids and I are in Chicago visiting my siter and her family. Unfortunately my poor little niece is sick, but at least we got to spend some time together today and hopefully she'll be feeling better tomorrow. Meanwhile the kids and I are at a Holiday Inn and the kids are in hog heaven because I let them watch Stepbrothers. My status as a WPE has now been etched in stone, as a hotel employee came in to set up a cot while we were watching it and it happened to be the part where someone says "fuck" a bunch of times. Great.

Anyway, we're having a fun time-except for my niece being sick. I'm telling you--WPE or not, I must have done at least something right because travelling with the kids--even without Patrick--is a breeze (knock wood). Not one word about "when will we be there?" on plane. In fact, pretty much not one word about anything.

Well, time to hit the sack and get a jump-start on my extra hour of sleep night.

The Best Part of Blogging--Free Books

I recently read Crazy Love by Leslie Morgan Steiner. Yeah, that's right--if you clicked on that link you saw that the book won't be available until March 31, 2009. How have I already read it then? That would be because I've discovered that getting bloggers to read and blog about your book is apparently a new trend among publishers, because this is the second book I've scored as a result of saying "I'm a blogger--can I have a free copy?" Who ever said that blogging is a stupid waste of time?

Anyway, I have to say I had mixed feelings about the book. It's about Leslie Morgan Steiner's horrible first marriage to an abusive guy. Taken as a whole, the book does provide great insight about why women stay in abusive relationships. Even though she was from a rich, waspy family, her self-esteem was sufficiently in the toilet to keep her wedded to a guy who damn near killed her.

The thing that kept me from really liking this book was the fact that she makes such a big deal about how she was from this rich, waspy family. She constantly refers to her privileged upbringing and how, in spite of it, she was doing drugs and screwing around starting when she was like 13, then had a huge eating disorder, then was married to this crazy wife-beater. Maybe this is small-minded of me to say, but it's kind of hard to feel sorry for someone who, in the course of telling the story of her life as a battered wife, refers incessantly to Harvard, summer house, money, private school, money, Harvard, waspy parents, summer house, Harvard, private school...oh, and did I mention Harvard? Trust me--she mentioned Harvard.

Yes, we get it--even though your life looked perfect it wasn't. The thing is--we still kind of hate you for your charmed life, so our level of sympathy for you isn't sky-high. Or maybe that's just me being a bitter bitch and anyone else reading the book would feel more sympathy towards her. Like I said, though--overall it's an inspiring story about beaten down wife getting a business degree and becoming a huge success and finally being able to free herself from the abusive relationship. The thing is, something about the dynamic of the "I grew up rich and privileged, then went to Harvard, then went to business school, then made a ton of money in high-power jobs, and now am famous and writing a book" is less compelling than say, a person who grew up poor or stupid THEN went on to become rich and famous. You need the first part of the equation to get the feel-good thing going; without it it just comes off as gloating and "yay for me!"

Take a movie like Pursuit of Happyness. The reason it's a total tear-jerker and near-perfect movie is that it has that whole "success in the face of extreme adversity" theme going on. It wouldn't be nearly as good a movie if he'd been raised rich and privileged, then done a brief stint on the streets, then gone to business school and become rich and famous. Oh, and had his dad pay for business school.

Anyway, my point is the book was good and I would definitely recommend it, but it had a little too much of a "don't hate me because I'm beautiful" vibe for my taste.

Blog Action Day Results=I Win For Most Shameful

If I thought my post on Blog Action Day was FIO when I wrote it, now I feel even worse. Or, to be honest, I can't really say "worse" because I'm personally still laughing about it, but I know I should be feeling ashamed that I'm probably the only one out of 12,800 bloggers who didn't do a tear-jerker or violin-playing worthy post.

Oh, well--at least there were 14,052 other serious posts so mine won't upset the karma scale too much.

Crazy Successful or Just Crazy, Redux

A while ago I blogged about the connection between the entreprenurial spirit and just plain old manic depressive (I'm still searching for the post to link to; feel free to browse my archived posts and find it yourself). I was reminded of it yesterday when I read another totally random Penelope Trunk blog post.

Penelope Trunk is the poster girl for the "is she crazy successful or just crazy?" theory. I love her but the girl is just all over the place. If she were reading the stuff she writes live I guarantee you the audience would be sitting there going "huh?"

Ostensibly, all her posts relate to career advice. Sometimes she actually writes career advice. However, more often than not, her posts are about pubic hair, autism, eating disorders, volleyball--you name it, I'm pretty sure she's woven it into a career advice post at some point. (And yes, I did mean to link to that search page for "volleyball" to illustrate how many different ways she's woven the fact that she used to be a professional volleyball player into her posts.)

I'd be willing to bet cash money that Penelope Trunk is bipolar--yet not only has it not hurt her career, it's actually the reason she is as successful as she is. A "normal" person would never take the risks she takes--and, therefore, would never be able to get rich telling the world about her naked pubes and college vomiting habits.

My point? She rocks.

Blog Action Day, FIO-Style

Today is Blog Action Day, "an annual nonprofit event that aims to unite the world’s bloggers, podcasters and videocasters, to post about the same issue on the same day." The point? "...to raise awareness and trigger a global discussion."

Anyway, the point is to blog about poverty from whatever perspective you want. Naturally, what you write should be compelling, moving and inspiring--after all, we're talking about poverty, which is, of course, no laughing matter.

I know I'm going to hell but, as I've been growing increasingly anxious over the past few days about what I'm going to say about poverty, the only thing that continues to come to my mind is: Poverty is bad. Which then of course brings to mind this clip from South Park; watch it and, whenever he says the phrase "drugs are bad" just mentally substitute "poverty is bad."




If this is not the most FIO post about poverty EVER, I don't know what is. But hey--the rules say that the best thing a blogger can do to spread the word on Blog Action Day is to "use the style, personality and topic" your audience is used to to talk about poverty. Seriously.

The Feminine Mistake, Redux--Again

I blogged about Leslie Bennett's The Feminine Mistake a few weeks ago, promising to re-read it and blog about it. I'm still trying to finish Madame Bovary (reading it again because I just read Tom Perrotta's Little Children and it's part of the plot of that book and I decided I needed a refresher) and a few other books but I promise I will get to The Feminine Mistake soon. In the meantime, check out the thoughtful comments to that post. I was going to respond in the comment section but figured I may as well just post it here so people will see it.

The book is very black and white, which is why it inspired such strong feelings in me—as much as I wanted to think she was too much of a hard-liner, the stories she told—while extreme—were too close to home for me to ignore. Granted, I was never destitute—far from it—but I was dependent on a man and trapped in a horrible marriage because of it. I never want to be in that position again.

If nothing else the book points out that as much as people like to think that something could NEVER happen to them, there are no guarantees in life. Women who would swear on their lives that their marriages were perfect are blindsided by their husband announcing one day out of the blue that he wants a divorce. Husbands who seemed healthy as horses drop dead with no warning, or sustain debilitating injuries or illnesses that render them unable to work again. Yes, it’s melodramatic to think about it but it happens. I have witnessed it happening, in fact—and too many times to insist that it could never happen to me.

I know a woman whose husband had an accident and is now—and will forever be—a child, cognitively-speaking. Actually, I personally know two women to whom this exact thing happened—what are the odds of that? But it happened. And divorce horror stories? Each one I hear is worse than the last—women with autistic children whose husbands divorce them and leave them without a home or money and then sue for custody of the kids even though he’s unable to care for them; women who hadn’t had a care in the world for 15, 20 or even 25 years suddenly penniless and without health insurance or a car; women who spent the past 20+ years living in huge houses and hanging out at the country club being reduced to having to stay with friends because she can’t even afford an apartment. I’m not exaggerating one bit, either—these are real people who I know, and I’m just one person who lives in a small-ish community. If I can tick off these stories of women whose lives have been totally shattered because they assumed they would never have to worry about supporting themselves, you know there are thousands—millions—more just like them.

But there’s child support, you say—if my husband left he’d have to pay child support and alimony and I’d get to keep my house. Nope—not always the case—not even close. Or life insurance, if, god forbid, he died. Again, not necessarily true.

The part that freaks me out is that you just never know—for all anyone knows, any given woman will never have to deal with any of this stuff and not being able to support herself would never impact her at all. The thing is that if something does happen, once it’s happened there’s no going back and re-writing history. It’s the same as insurance—if you don’t have it and end up needing it, you’re basically screwed.

The bottom line is that, while the book wouldn’t have made it any easier for me to have worked and put my kids in daycare, I don’t know that I could have read it and still been a SAHM for 8 years. And trust me, I was—and still am, to a large degree—a “Don’t have them if you won’t raise them” kind of person.

Best Doll Ever: Blythe

How is it that I've lived for 40 years totally unaware of the most awesome doll on the planet?

Hand Me That Cell Phone So I Can Call CPS

Yikes--just when you thought talking on your cell phone was ok as long as you're not driving a car, speech pathologists (like my sister, Cassie) announce that talking on your cell phone while with your kids can have "serious consequences." Namely, delays in language development. While there's apparently not much research proving it, SLPs are seeing an increase in speech-delayed babies and toddlers that they feel is linked to the fact that, if a parent is on the phone, they aren't interacting verbally with their kid. Fair enough.

Ok, so you better get all your talking done before you have the baby, then--right? Wrong. A recent Danish study found that the children of mothers who frequently used a cell phone during pregnancy were 80 percent more likely to have emotional, social and behavioral problems, including hyperactivity.

Does this mean I can stop feeling guilty for never calling anyone back?

Apparently I Kick Ass

I'm totally drained from an afternoon of shopping with the kids so I'm just doing a quick check-in so you don't all think I've dropped off the face of the earth.

The big news of the day is that my other blog, Mizz Information, is now on Alltop, an "digital magazine rack" that features "all the top" sites on the web. My blog is featured in the social media section. Social media, of course, being all my nerd stuff like Twitter, blogging, Facebook, etc. At any rate, I'm psyched because maybe now that my blog feed is on Alltop I may actually attract more than 4-ish readers per day. And if not, I at least get to post this nifty logo on there:


So yeah, if you add that to the $1.98 I earned from Amazon Affiliates program (those ads for Amazon on this page; if you click them I earn like a cent or something) I'd say this could qualify as a banner day in my blogosphere.

And now Martha Stewart is having a contest on her blog--basically in exchange for including a link to her blog on yours she will (allegedly) review it and, if she decides it's worthy, post a link to it on hers. Somehow I don't think that she'd consider this blog very "Martha" but who knows--stranger things have happened. So in that spirit, notice that I have added a link to her blog to my blogroll.

Dinner calls....but stay tuned for my post about The Feminine Mistake, which I know all of you are also reading.

Is She Really Mistaken?

I don't have time to write what my British friend, Jane, would call "a proper post" so I figure I'd do the FIO thing and re-purpose an old post. It's AS IF I were writing this post now because I am, yet again, getting ready to read The Feminine Mistake: Are We Giving Up Too Much?

I read it a while ago and remain obsessed with it because, as much as people dis Leslie Bennetts' ideas--including me, in theory--I can't help but think that ultimately she's right. In case you don't want to read the book I'll give you the FIO synopsis: women should never quit working to stay home with kids, no matter how much money their husbands make, because there are no guarantees in life and if he dies or leaves you, you're SOL.

I'll save further comment for later, after I (and, of course, you) have read it again.

Poem

I want to say I understand this poem by Matthew Zapruder--and actually sort of do--but mostly I'm like "huh?"

Matthew Zapruder is a friend of mine from back in the day. He is crazy smart--not only a poet but a poet who translates Romanian poems.

Maybe if you're lucky I'll try to unearth one of my poems from way back when I wrote stuff more creative than blog posts about social media or Augusten Burroughs.

You thought I was off him, right, since I haven't written about him lately? Think again--I am still his #1 fan and am obsessed with him. However I do have to say that the redesign of his website is so bad it almost makes my eyes bleed. I could write a dissertation about how bad and why it sucks--but because it's Augusten I'll reserve comment.

Score one for this complaining soccer mom

Remember my infamous soccer rage rant from last fall? The one that spurred me to write this comment on the local paper's website, which ended up being published in the print version? Which led to this "Open Forum" that mainly consisted of people ripping my "sweeping indict of the nature of games at OBGC" (the local boys and girls club)? Which then led to me writing this response, which they ran in the paper, which led to this email to me from the Executive Director of the club, which led to THIS tirade (yes, she wrote it in RED) of an email? Then finally this response from OBGC to me, again in the paper?

Then, just when we were all thoroughly bored with the subject, The Washington Post published a blog post I had written way back before the whole saga even started. By that point I pretty much never wanted to talk or hear about the issue again--after all, in reality I couldn't care less about my kids playing soccer.

Anyway, a friend recently emailed me telling me that apparently the whole saga had been productive because, lo and behold, OBGC has announced a new, stricter Code of Conduct policy.

Guess the Executive Director's red, angry rip-fest at me wasn't, in the end, warranted after all. Guess I wasn't the only one who thought their policy wasn't strict enough; after all, why would they be making such a big deal about their newly strict policy?

A love song to Twitter?

I never thought of this post as a "love song to Twitter" but the clever folks at Ragan.com added that headline and featured one of my blog posts on their homepage today.

I May Not Be White But I Am a White Trash Mom

Remember my abysmal score on the Stuff White People Like quiz which revealed that I am only about 10% white? Well, curiously (or not?) I think I may qualify as a white trash mom, based on just this one question on the White Trash Mom quiz--"Fakin' It for the Bake Sale."

In fact, I go one better than even bothering to try making it look like I actually baked something; when asked to contribute to a class party or bake sale I have no shame about plunking down an unopened box of Entenmann's cookies. Think the grandma in "Sixteen Candles" with the box of donuts, attempting to open it with a knife (or was it a long, fake fingernail?) while deftly clamping a cigarette between her lips.

I don't smoke, though--does that make me less of a white trash mom?

Wii

Well, we finally found the Wii last week and so far it's been worth spending a horrifying amount on. Even Mimi has played enthusiastically--and those who know Mimi know she isn't enthusiastic about much. So far I have only injured myself slightly while playing tennis a little too enthusiastically.

That's about all that's been going on. I have been feeling crappy for over a week so hopefully now that I'm on antibiotics I'm on the mend. The only problem was this morning I took the pill when I woke up, fully intending to go eat something since the bottle said "take with food." An hour or so later we finally stopped at McDonald's to get something to eat and suddenly I felt sick and ended up on the bathroom floor with my cheek resting on the toilet seat. As sick as I felt, I think Patrick felt worse when I told him about my toilet-hugging--he is not a fan of the germs. I'm going to have to disinfect for a month before he'll touch me again.

Well, I'm distracted because Patrick and Matthew are playing Medal of Honor--I need to go kick Matthew off and grab a gun.

Sorry I'm not so interesting tonight--between feeling crappy and being distracted by the Wii I'm not in my best blogging form. If you want to read a great post, read this one by Penelope Trunk about Palin. 172 comments and counting--most of them ripping poor Penelope a new one. Then, read this one where she basically does an about-face and changes her tune entirely.

All I have to say is Palin needs to fix that hair--a grown woman shouldn't have a hairstyle that requires a ponytail holder.

Wii--WTF?

After, what, a year? two years? of thinking about it we decided to give in and buy a Wii. Matthew wanted it, then I saw they have a shooting game and I wanted it, then Patrick played it at a conference and he became obsessed with it so we finally caved and decided to just buy it.

Or so we thought it was that easy.

Never would I have imagined having to go to such great lengths to--unsuccessfully--spend $350. Since Sunday, these are the stores we attempted to buy it from:

1) Target #1 (Sunday)--sold out.

2) Target #2--sold out.

3) Toys R' Us--this store may have actually had it in stock but at that point we didn't know what a nightmare it would be to find it elsewhere and niavely thought we'd think about it and look around to see if we could find one that came as a bundle with extra controllers and games. Ha!

4) EB Games--they had the box behind locked glass so, after deciding ok, we'll just go ahead and buy it we go up to the counter and the girl basically laughed in our faces--"We don't have any!" Um, then how about taking the box with the $249 price tag out of the locked glass cabinet and not spending 10 minutes telling us which bundle to buy.

5) Game Stop--sold out.

6) Game Stop #2--sold out.

7) Target #1 (Monday)--sold out.

8) FYE--sold out.

Today, Patrick called two more stores--neither had it. I called another game store; shocker--SOLD OUT.

That makes ELEVEN stores that were sold out of a $250 (or $350 if you want the bundle with the extra controllers and the shooting game) toy. How does every single person in the world apparently have $350 to throw away on a game?

Turn That Monthly Frown Upside-down

There is a god: you can now turn your period blood into boobs.

I swear I am not making this up.

Saving the Environment by Working 10-Hour Days?

Whoops! If you were stumped by a total non-sequitur of a post earlier today, I had accidentally posted a long comment I made on an article in The Washington Post about the idea of a four 10-hour day work week. Guess I must have been using Blogger as a text editor instead of Word. Oh well--that's the beauty of having almost no readers--nobody catches mistakes like that.

Oh well, rather than have me summarize the entire article and then add my commentary you can just go read the article and see my comment (it's the last one at the top, Maggie7).

In short, no, having people work four 10-hour days--thereby ostensibly keeping them house-bound and not driving around killing the ozone layer one day a week--is not going to save the planet. Anyone knows that when you're home all day the first thing you do is drive to Target, then to the gym, then to Starbucks, then on several other errands at opposite ends of town.

Two of My Favorite Things, United

Continuing with your favorite theme of mine: "EVER"--current best book EVER: Stuff White People Like.

I don't know why I'm so obsessed with this book but I just am--I think it's hilarious. Maybe it's because I have discovered, in the course of reading the book and taking the quiz at the end that I am not, in fact, really white. I don't even score high enough to be on the scale, which starts at 15%. And--if you can believe it, despite his lily-white skin, Patrick isn't any whiter than I am. In fact, I believe he scored even lower than I did.

At any rate, the book is hilarious for more reasons than I can list, and I highly recommend you buy it. You might wonder why buy a book of a blog that I can already read online...I thought the same thing until I bought it. First of all, it has stuff that's not on the blog and, second of all, it is somehow 20 times funnier when you're reading it off a physical page. Too bad for Amazon, because I was recently toying with the idea of buying a Kindle, thinking it would be better than dealing with paper books, but Stuff White People Like made me realize that actual books might be better than books on a screen.

And no, btw, I am in no way affiliated with Christian Lander--the author of the book--in case you're thinking my glowing reviews are in any way fueled by me standing to profit from sales of the book. I wish. I'm even too lazy to figure out how to do the affiliate link correctly so if you were to buy the book by clicking on the link in this blog I would have made a cent or two.

Anyway, you'll have to read the book yourself but I will reveal one helpful tip from it: If you see a person riding a bike to work--or doing anything else that is similarly eco-friendly--go up and say "Hey--thanks. Sincerely, The Earth."

That ranks right up there with "Ding-Ding! Here comes the shit-mobile!" in terms of funny. And that's saying a lot, since that is officially the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life.

And best of all? I discovered a common thread between Twitter and Stuff White People Like.

And you thought I wasn't intellectual.

The Freakiest Show EVER

Ok, I realize two "...EVER" posts in one week is a little much, but I'm sorry, this is just too good not to share and since I'm all by my lonesome this weekend, you, readers, are the only ones I have to share it with.

The show Intervention is always a crowd-pleaser; however the episode about Allison just takes the cake. I realize it's not so nice to make light of someone's addiction story, but I'm sorry, I defy you to watch this show--or even the trailer--and not wonder if it's actually a joke. Seriously, I will bet money that Saturday Night Live does a parody of this girl.

Apparently I'm not the only one who found the show hilarious/horrifying--if you go to YouTube and do a search for "Allison Intervention" you'll see that a slew of people had the same reaction I did. Do yourself a favor and watch the whole thing--then tell me it isn't the craziest thing you've ever seen. Girl could do a PSA for why huffing is a BAD idea.

Best 20-Something Career Advice Post EVER

Forget what I said about all Gen-Y posts about career advice being identical and useless—this one is like no other job advice blog post I’ve ever read before. Somehow this guy makes a case for the interrelationship between casual sex, video games and entrepreneurship. Here is my Cliff Notes version of his salient points:

• Fun: "My third year at UCLA was one big blur where I would wake up half naked every other night not knowing where I had left my jeans, shoes, or dick.”


• Productivity: "What does it mean to be truly productive with your life? Hanging out with friends and drinking alcohol all night is fun for the moment, but I always wake up in the morning vowing to never drink again. Same with video games. You spend all of your time leveling-up your character and getting new features, only to have your hard work made completely insignificant once the new version of the game comes out.”


• How do you want to live your life? "The best way to reach the point of self-actualization is to play your life as if it were an RPG (Role Playing Game)"




• Never stop learning: "In a video game, you gain experience by slaying monsters and completing quests. Therefore in real life, you gain experience by reading, keeping up with the news, and gaining internships and a high GPA."


• Expand your network: "In a video game, the more people you talk to, the higher the chance you have of someone telling you a hint to complete a mission, giving you an item, or providing you with secret information."


• Find the perfect relationship: "A meaningful and loving relationship will make you much happier than any one-night stand. As an entrepreneur with my personality type, it is much more productive to be in a serious relationship than to be single, and here’s why: If I was single, I would be out there chasing girls left and right. I would not be able to focus on my company because all I would be thinking about is who my next piece would be."

Judging by these rules I should be a millionaire by now. Did I miss a step? Maybe because I never lost awareness of where I left my jeans, shoes or dick in college I missed out on that valuable career step? Maybe my video game play--while compulsive enough to render my hand numb for 3 months--just wasn't sufficient to build the skills necessary to become a successful entrepreneur? Maybe I'm having too much sex now--albeit in my perfect relationship--and it's preventing me from "striving for more" in terms of my career.

But here I am, 40 and still with the word “assistant” in my title; meanwhile, there he is, a year out of college and a (self professed) entrepreneur and management consultant.

My question is, when he and other the Gen-Yers' career advice bloggers say that they’re entrepreneurs and consultants, do they mean they’re actually supporting themselves in those capacities? Or are they "consultants" and "entrepreneurs" in the sense that I am a "consultant"; e.g. yes, I can write—here’s my email address if you’re ever interested in hiring me for a project…and now it's back to my cubicle where I sit for 8 hours a day so I can pay the bills and support my kids.

In theory I could brand myself as a thought leader, writer, life coach, marriage counselor, or social media expert…as in, I COULD call myself these things and, while it wouldn’t actually be lying because I could theoretically serve in any of these capacities, the reality is that I don’t currently earn a dime doing any of those things.

But that's a whole other post on personal branding, a mainstay of Gen-Y blog content.

**P.S.** Sorry but I just went to his blog and checked out his response to one reader's question "How does a student become an entrepreneur?" Hey--does step 2 sound familiar? "Move back home to save on cash."

Gee, another Gen-Y blogger endorsing that mainstay of 20-something career advice: move back in with mom and dad!

Sorry but when I think of a guy who lives with mom and dad, the image that comes to mind isn't so much entrepreneur; it's more Will Ferrel's character in Wedding Crashers, Chazz Reinhold, screaming "MA! Meatloaf! Fuck!"

My Name on Rice



Mimi bought me this necklace at Kings Dominion last week. She knows, obviously, about my fixation on tiny things and had heard me tell the "Name on Rice" tale many times.

I forget when or where but once I saw a kiosk at a mall or an amusement park (Cassie, do you remember this?) called "Name On Rice." Not only is that the best name in the world for a kiosk, but how excellent and random a concept is painting something on a grain of rice then putting it in a tiny glass vial on a necklace? Don't even get me started on the collection of tiny things with stuff painted on them at Ripley's Believe it or Not museum in Williamsburg, VA. Suffice it to say that I now own a camera capable of taking super close up photos of tiny things and will be bringing it with me next time I visit that museum.

Anyway--I once had this "name on rice" necklace but it got lost, leaving me with nothing but the fond memory and the lingering obsession with it. So last week, Mimi--who usually doesn't so much as make me a card for my birthday--returned from a camp trip to Kings Dominion excitedly clutching an envelope.

"I got you a present," she said, trying to be nonchalant but obviously excited. And there it was, a new name on rice necklace! It even has a flower painted on the other side of the grain of rice. The kiosk was called "Your Name on Grain" this time--slightly less awesome than "Name on Rice"--but still, it's my name on rice.

Anyway, I'm sure this isn't exciting for anyone but me...but I am plenty excited about it.

Then, speaking of my name on things, I feel like such a social media darling--my name was mentioned in not one but two blogs today. How knew that asking a question about Facebook would be cause for such interest and enthusiasm?

3 Out of 4 Moms are Worst Parents Ever?

So far, I'm batting 3 for 3 on the Worst Parent Ever (WPE)scale (as defined by me, of course.)

But who would have thought I'd be in such good company? According to a very BPE (best parent ever) source--the esteemed New York Times--most moms give up on breastfeeding. According to the article, here are 4 more defining criteria for WPE:

Returning to work, being a smoker or living in the Northeast decreased the likelihood of long-term breast-feeding. Notably, low-income women who participated in the subsidized Women, Infants and Children program, which provides food, milk and formula to mothers and young children, were also more likely to stop breast-feeding sooner.

Interesting--I can see how returning to work or smoking could be considered WPE characteristics--and of course it's a given that low-income women on WIC are WPE--but I'm surprised to see that "living in the Northeast" apparently makes you more likely to be a formula-feeding WPE. Strange, given that a decent number of Ivy Leage schools--BPE (oh, actually, White people--well,same thing) pillars--are located in the Northeast.

Doctor's Out

So much for MedSpa doctor--I was all geared up to go get my Botox fix at 10 am today; at 9 am the girl called to say he couldn't do it today. Bummer. Now I have to deal with tense forehead until Thursday. Maybe I'll have an epiphany between now and then and will be able to just say no to Botox. Or maybe someone will invent topical Valium before Thursday.

Strip Mall Botox

I have absolutely nothing to say but feel compelled to try to keep up some kind of momentum with this poor neglected blog. It's Friday night, Patrick has a baseball game and I'm home with the kids. We went to Burger King for dinner. Did you know that BK onion rings have less fat and calories than almost anything on the menu? Just a little nutritional tip from me to you, courtesy of the tray liner that now includes complete nutritional content information for every single item on the menu. Including ketchup packets (10 calories, 0 fat).

The highlight of my day was that the former "day spa" in Olney--e.g. glorified nail salon--is now a MedSpa. "Med" meaning that a doctor has decided to make some cash on the side so he opened an office in there. All I know is this: I went in to ask how much Botox is there and it's half what I usually pay.

I will pause here to mention that I make no bones about the fact that yes, I get Botox in my forehead. Why? Because a few years ago I had a horrible eye twitch that lasted for--no lie--8 months. It would start the minute I opened my eyes in the morning and would last all day, every day, from January until August until I finally got insurance to pay for the one available treatment for "blepharospasm": Botox. I was so psyched, thinking that the doctor would put one drop in my eyelid then generously offer to use the rest on my forehead for free. Not that I even had a ton of wrinkles--ok, I actually had no wrinkles--but did have a few lines and was just curious to see what I would look like without them.

I got so fixated on the idea that when, sadly, it turned out that the doctor charged me (luckily, my insurance paid it) $400 for ONE tiny shot in my eyelid and would have charged me $600 more if I wanted it in my forehead too, I found another doctor who charged half that and ponied up the money.

(By the way, the Botox didn't really fix the eye twitch, but it spontaneously stopped the day I moved out of my ex-husband's house. Literally--gone--just like that.)

Anyway, as I said, I shelled out the money for the Botox and loved it. Even when my first go-round rendered me totally cockeyed looking, with one eyebrow raised up WAY higher than the other, I was totally mesmerized by my smooth as an eggshell forehead and the resulting expression of perpetual tranquility. I loved it. Then, after about 4 months it started wearing off. It's like Cinderella at midnight--you watch as your blissfully lineless, relaxed forehead starts waking up and them--poof--you're back to you regular middle-aged lady forehead once again.

The thing about Botox is that you get addicted not only to the look of your line-less forehead but also to the way it feels. That is, you feel nothing--imagine the ultimate muscle relaxant--that's Botox. Ok, so it doesn't actually relax the muscles; it paralyzes them...but it's a very comfortable state regardless. Once it starts wearing off and you can once again move your forehead (you can move your eyebrows the whole time, btw) it feels very uncomfortable.

Imagine not using your legs at all for 4 straight months. Then you get up and try to walk. Your legs wouldn't feel too good, would they? They'd be so weak it would be an effort even to move them. Now apply that to your forehead. For months those muscles were basically dead; once they start waking up they are atrophied from disuse. Which means that just the effort of them not being totally dead is a strain--your forehead starts feeling they way your neck and shoulders do when you're really stressed out. I don't know how to explain it other than that it feels like the effort of just keeping your eyebrows in place is a strain and it leaves your forehead feeling weirdly exhausted and tense.

Long story short: you get addicted not only to the look of your flawlessly smooth skin but also to the physical feeling of totally relaxed muscles. It's like crack--once you start regaining feeling it gets more and more uncomfortable and you start jonesing for another shot to put them back to blissful sleep for another 4-6 months.

I was going to quit--honestly I was--I decided it was ridiculous to spend that much money on something as stupid as a smooth forehead. But my forehead is TIRED and I swear I'm craving that shot like a smoker craves cigarettes. And now I can get it for half what I used to pay--how can I resist?

So if you see me on Monday and it looks like a hive of bees went to town on my forehead (the shots leave big welts on my skin for a day or so after I get them) you know I caved.

You Want Career Advice? Ask a 20-Something

Anyone who reads my blogs knows that I’m a huge fan of Penelope Trunk. I used to read her blog—still do—but now I also read some of the featured blogs on her website Brazen Careerist. The site is geared towards Gen-Y--or the term I find funnier, Millennials-- and many of the bloggers are 20-somethings giving career advice either before they have careers or from the vantage point of their entry-level jobs. A lot of posts are arrogant dissertations about why Gen-Y is better than previous generations--smarter, more creative, more technically savvy, not willing to settle for the crappy lives every person over the age of 35 has--basically annoying and sort of hilarious.

Take this post, for example Twentysomething: Why My generation is More Productive Than Yours. Main takeaway from the post: "We’ve seen our washed up parents work shit jobs they hate, and we won’t go through the motions for the sake of job security." Hey now--give your poor hard-working parents a break: someone had to finance your lessons, sports, activities--you know, all that stuff that helped you get into the expensive college that they also had to pay for. And just when they thought it was over and you'd be getting jobs like college grads of yesteryear did, you decide you are going to do the responsible thing and move back home.

One of my favorite Brazen Careerist posts was written by a 20-something who's "working a temporary job as I actively pursue a career in the publishing industry." Actively pursuing as in working a temp job with no benefits while daydreaming about moving to France and getting a kick-ass job? Naturally, the crux of the plan is moving back in with her parents. You go girl, with the career advice. Send me a postcard from the major publishing house in France and let me know how that worked out for you.

Back to the "washed up" parents, though: maybe their "shit jobs" aren't the only culprit of their washed up lives. Maybe they're exhausted from having spent 20 years lavishing attention and praise on their youngins. The helicopter parenting that created these arrogant 20-somethings is bound to wear a person out. Think about it--20 years spent anxiously hovering over your kid, making sure he/she doesn't have to experience a moment's discomfort lest it damage their self-esteem--it's like being a stewardess or something. Not to mention a bank; sure, it's easy to be a 20-something who won't settle for just any mundane job when your parents are still supporting you. Rent? Health insurance? Not a worry for these clever Gen-Yers who will end up happier and more successful and just better in every way than previous generations because they're making their own rules and succeeding on their own terms.

Don't worry about reading all the blogs on Brazen Careerist; I'll sum them up for you: the keys to career success are:

1) Mastering MySpace and other social networking applications that the older generation just doesn't get and which are basically the only job skills required at the flexible dream jobs where there are no rules, no set hours and unlimited vacation.

and

2) Relying on your parents to support you and then hook you up with a sweet internship that will ultimately--no rush, now, since rent isn't an issue--lead to a job that pays as much as your parents' "shit job" but that is satisfying and morally superior.

Don't get me wrong--I am all for the results-only work environment (ROWE)...but I'm old and I've earned it.

Worst Parent Ever

Inspired by one of my favorite websites Best Parent Ever I got to thinking "what about worst parent ever?" Surely not all of us went in for the Bugaboo stroller; for some of us, the good ole umbrella stroller--available at any Kids R' Us or Walmart for about $20--was just fine. Light, easy to manuver, foldable with one hand, washable--what's not to like?

A few other Worst Parent Ever qualities:

1) Letting your baby sleep on its stomach

How many parents, desperate to get baby to sleep for more than 2 hours at a clip listened to our mothers, who pointed out that back in the day tummy sleeping was today's back sleeping? There probably aren't any studies out proving that babies sleep better on their stomachs; all I can say is that, from my unscientific study based on a sample of at least 5 moms who were willing to furtively admit that yes, they let their babies sleep on their stomachs, the consensus was that the babies did sleep better.

2) Formula Feeding

We all know my feelings about the whole "breast is best" thing; suffice it to say that, while I did breastfeed each of my kids for 6 weeks, I blissfully gave in to formula after that and enjoyed every convenient, no-guessing-required about how much my babies drank minute. Apparently my kids survived despite my Worst Parent Ever behavior because they have lived to the ripe old ages of 10 and 12 with no apparent ill effects.

Worst Parents Ever make no apologies for not breastfeeding--whether it's just not their cup of tea or whatever, they proudly stock up on those great big cans of formula and enjoy the beauty of being able to handle nighttime feedings by chucking a bottle into the crib and going immediately back to sleep.

Oh, and bonus Worst Parent Ever points if you scoff at the doctor's warnings that babies stomachs can't handle milk until they're 12 months old and decide that you're tired of shelling out $25 a can and switch to regular milk when your baby is only 10 months old.

3) Extended pacifier use

Yeah, I admit it--my son had a pacifier until he was 7. Not like out on the street or anything, but yes, in a little box in his room, he had one and had no shame about using it. At home, that is. I didn't qualify for the uber Worst Parent Ever: the kind who lets a kid--not a toddler or even a pre-schooler--appear in public with a pacifier. You know, the kind of parent who gives their baby Coke in a bottle or...


lets it play with cigarettes.

Happy Blogoversary to Me

Ok, that's not actually true--this is not the anniversary of my first post. It is, however, almost the anniversary of the date I started tracking visitor stats. I started using Sitemeter in August 2007; during that month I had 14 visitors. As of today--with two more days to go until the actual end of the month--I have had 327 visitors during July 2008.

Granted 327 is nothing compared to "real" bloggers; with an average of about 15 visitors a day I doubt I could ever make a dime with this blog. But such is life--and I did score a free book and (still have yet to receive it so maybe shouldn't count it) a free CherryPal computer as a result of my blogging prowess.

I can't feel too badly, though--I was heartened to read this post by the author of one of my favorite blogs, Best Parent Ever. His wife's blog--even after about 50,000 page impressions in a 3-week period--brought in only $1.87. I could probably find more than that in between the cushions of my sofa.

So why do I keep blogging? Because I don't have the discipline (I was going to say time but if J.K. Rowling can write Harry Potter on napkins at 5 am I can't really claim to have no time) to write much of anything else, I guess. A friend of mine, after hearing from her husband about my guest post in The Washington Post, asked me, incredulously "So, what--you just sit there and write? Why?"

Who knows. God knows it's not for the recognition--not that I don't appreciate my loyal readership of 15 or so a day. Not for the props either--one valuable thing I've learned through blogging is that people are 100 times meaner when commenting anonymously on blogs then they are in real life. I guess the internet gives everyone a chance to release their inner demon-like personalities--read any blog and at least 50% of the comments are usually not only negative, but scathingly so. So blogging does force you to grow a thicker skin, which is generally useful in life.

I read this post today about what defines success as a blogger. It sums it up nicely: If you enjoy it, then do it. This is another good post about not getting too wrapped up in how "successful" your blog is.

So Not PC but So Funny

I know, I know--offensive, insensitive, crude...etc.

But hirarious! Um, I mean hilarious.

I'm BAAACK!!

Did you miss me? I am so impressed with myself for (almost) going without internet for a full week. I did check email (ok--and Twitter) from my phone and I did have to go to Bethany Bytes once--but only to print and send my CherryPal Brand Angel agreement back so they can send me my free computer.

Yes, that's right, folks--granted, it's not a book deal but I have managed to secure not one but two products of actual monetary value as a result of blogging. The first was a book--Groundswell by Forrester Research--they invited bloggers to email them and the first however many would get a free copy of the book to read and blog about. Which I did.

Remember the "gigs" section of Craigslist? Ok--not those gigs--I'm talking about the writing gigs section now. Anyway, a month or so ago I answered an ad looking for bloggers who wanted to serve as "brand angels" for this new "green" computer. Get to try a cool new computer before anyone else gets it? For free? And blog about it? Hells yeah.

So I applied and got selected. Hopefully in a few days I'll have my "cloud computer" in my hands and will be able to tell all you eager readers about it.

So what did I do for 7 days without internet? Read. A lot:

A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel--I loved this book and think she's awesome...if you like Lynda Barry you'll love her. In fact, I wonder if she's not actually Lynda Barry. Oh, and she's friends with Augusten...lucky dog.

The Weight of Water by Anita Shreve (didn't she used to be called Anita Richards Shreve?)--I loved this book--finished it in one day, so I guess that qualifies it as a page-turner.

The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted by Elizabeth Berg. Augusten recommended this book and I loved it as much as he did. At first I was like "huh?" but the stories are incredible--especially Ove the Hill and into the Woods. Very Raymond Carver/John Cheever.

Shock by Robin Cook--Ok--this was an audiobook that we all listened to throughout the week. Fun and interesting but lots of stupid/ridiculous stuff...as there always is in Robin Cook's books. The kids liked it, or at least Matthew did.

Then topped off the week with two movies--The Dark Knight and, finally, Sex and the City. I can't even begin to tell you how incredible Heath Ledger was in The Dark Knight--I'm not kidding. He was as good as Jack Nicholson in The Shining or Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs. Sad. I would be shocked if he doesn't at least get nominated for an Oscar, and not at all shocked if he wins.

Sex and the City was good but sort of "eh?" The best girl in the movie was Carrie's assistant, Louise from St. Louis. Every time Carrie was on screen she looked thinner and thinner--I swear, if she turned sideways all you could see was her hair. Ok, and her nose...but that's not nice of me to say. Especially considering that many more than one person has told me I look like her. Maybe the "long" face (as Patrick so lovingly put it) but hopefully not the nose--and sadly not the hair or the arms or the abs. Actually, I can't even covet anything about her body--she just looked scrawny. As much as I hate to admit it, maybe Maxim Magazine was on to something when they named her the unsexiest woman in the world. Angelina can barely carry being that skinny while remaining sexy; SJP just looks gaunt.

The Power of Negative Blogging

Yesterday I blogged about Penelope Trunk's post about shared parenting, which featured Marc and Amy, who are self-professed "shining pillars of excellence" (An "English as a second language" kid in Mimi's 5th grade class coined this term and I love it.) in the realm of shared parenting.

Who would have thought the object of my ridicule--Amy--would ever see the post, but she paid my blog a visit and left a scathing comment. In case you can't figure out how to get to the comment section of that post, here is her comment, followed by my response:

Maggie,
It seems important to you to find ways to ridicule our passion to share the benefits and challenges of equally shared parenting with others via our website, the article, and yes, someday, a book. No one is forcing you to adopt or even agree with anything we say, although you do sound like you are doing so in your own way anyway - both in your new marriage (if I read that right) and in your relationship with your ex-husband.

Why did Penelope give us advice on preparing to write a book? Well, because she makes a career of advising people, because she linked to US originally and we wrote to thank her, and because the few emails we exchanged over a year ago were free and encouraging. Tell me you wouldn't appreciate the same mentorship from someone for something YOU believed in. And by the way, the book we hope to write isn't about us - it is about equal parenting. A book about us would be, well, freaky to use your words! Have to agree with you there. We are far from perfect, but we're one of only a handful of people (until now) actually speaking up about the practical good and bad about equally shared parenting.

Anyway, I have no interest in engaging in your spit-fest, but wanted to reach out to suggest that you needn't give us so much power.

Take care,
Amy
Amy | Homepage | 07.08.08 - 10:20 am | #

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What's important to me is thinking of things to blog about on a semi-regular basis and, sorry, but things I find funny are easy fodder.

The thing is that I 100% agree with the concept--it's the "look at us--we're perfect!" way you present yourselves that I find funny. It's not just you guys, and it's not just me who finds stuff like your site funny--that's why sites like http://bestparentever.com/ exist.

I'm sure I, too, possess many annoying and self-promoting qualities; however, I can't see myself ever presenting myself as a shining example of anything--I figure anything I'm doing, someone else is also doing and probably doing better than I am.

But who knows--maybe I'm wrong...after all, you and your husband are living proof that nobody's going to promote you if you don't promote yourselves. After all, even though I, too, practice shared parenting, you're the ones with the book deal and I'm the one with 15 people reading my blog. And I'm not saying this facetiously--I'm serious.

And hell yes I would appreciate the same mentorship, especially from someone like Penelope. Not only is she a mentor, she has the power to make your book a success by spreading the word and promoting it. More power to you—but part of putting yourselves out there is, of course, having people who see things the way I do ridicule you. Then again, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that any press is good press and negative reactions will sell just as many books as positive ones will.

And now naturally I have to ridicule her comment, especially because she used the word "spit-fest."

A Banner Day in the Blogosphere

It's been slow going for me lately, creatively-speaking. I haven't felt like blogging but was alarmed to see my already minimal audience dwindle by the day so I've really been trying to squeeze some posts out. Not like you could tell or anything.

But I just finished reading Penelope Trunk's blog and don't even know where to begin my rant. Not about Penelope--she is my idol--did you know she makes $15,000 for one speaking engagement? Granted, she is, I'm sure--as one woman in my book group once described herself and the term became one of my favorites--a "gunner"--e.g. total type A, super competetive woman. But hey--she's a good writer and makes enough money to afford a $50k "house manager" in addition to a nanny and a housekeeper. I bow to her....but wouldn't want to be her.

Anyway, her post focused on this NY Times article about shared parenting and I couldn't help but think that the Stuff White People Like people would have a field-day with it.

Where do I even begin? Well, as Penelope did, with the "insipid photo," of course. Are there honestly people out there who see a photo like this and take it at face value, rather than laugh it off as a parody of yuppie parents? Are there really people out there so humorless that a photo like this serves only to get their competetive "best parent in universe" juices flowing?

I confess I didn't read beyond the first page of the article; I figure the title of the article, together with the term "breast milk" juxtaposed with the spooky photo, probably says it all anyway. What's up with a story that spans 10 web pages? Ten pages should be the sum total of an entire SITE--never one article.

But I digress...because after I did my three-point glance at the page and returned to Penelope's post, my eyes lit on this sentence:

A second disclaimer is that Amy and Marc, featured there as the poster children for shared care, are also people I’ve helped—about how to pitch themselves to the media so they could get some articles written about themselves and get a book deal. And they, too, were nice.

Did someone say book deal?

Seriously, though--there are people out there who think they are fascinating enough that they seek advice on how to pitch themselves to the media? I mean, regular people, fascinating--in their own eyes, at least--for just being regular people? While there are many fascinating things about me that would undoubtedly make A+ book fodder, I would be forever banished from polite company if I ever wrote it--not to mention it would probably send my mother into heart failure. My blogging in general already has her half there.

Back to Amy and Marc though--the picture on their website is even freakier than the one in the NYT article. Aren't sites that look like this usually reserved for engaged couples? At first glance I thought Amy and Marc were caterers or something--what with the chef hats and all--and figured that accounted for the desire for media coverage. But no--as you can see for yourselves, Amy and Marc are merely trying to pitch their perfectness to the media.

This post is already long enough and I still have one more thing to cover so I'll leave it at that...suffice it to say that I'm sure an upcoming topic on Stuff White People Like will be Shared Parenting.

Which brings me to the final--and probably best--link of all. ThirdPath--a favorite resource of Amy and Marc's--ranks right up there with Le Petite Paradis in terms of its "you've got to be kidding me" quotient. I'll have to write about ThirdPath another time, as it deserves its own post, but I'll just say that if my career as a Bottle Whisperer doesn't pan out I'm going to try offering "coaching calls" for $150 an hour.

Stuff White People Like (yes, again)

Yesterday our friends Jen and Chris were visiting and somehow the conversation turned to Stuff White People Like. I am so obsessed with it I had to pull out the laptop and share one of my all-time favorite things white people like: Having Black Friends.

"Since we are on the verge of electing a black president, it seems important to explain why white people want black friends. Every white person wants a black friend like Barack: good-looking, well-spoken, and non-violent. Obviously, whites want black friends so as not to appear racist (see earlier Obama post). However, if we dig deeper what we notice about white people is not if they have black friends but in fact, how many black friends they have. White people like numbers. They like to count things like stars in the sky and the death toll at Mt. Everest and the number of times they’ve seen Tori Amos and/or Phish in concert. Counting the number of black friends is then clearly a divine imperative. The number of black friends white people possess also illustrates their comfort with black culture. Here’s a handy guide to the number system:

1—The white novice. This black friend is the gateway to helping white people understand gang signs and Vietnamese beauty supply stores. This black friend is probably the only black friend for many white people and when they all hang out (because white people hang out) they bring their “mutual” black friend with them.

2—The white black club-goer. Two black friends serve as bodyguards when white people go to black clubs to see how exactly one “pops, drops and locks” it.

3 -4—The white BET-er. See Justin Timberlake/ Robin Thicke/ Jon B for more information. For old school reference, see Michael McDonald.

5 and up—Impossible."

LMAO!

Happy 4th!

July 4th just doesn't seem as fun as it used to. I don't know if it's because I'm old now or what but it's just not exciting at all. I remember it used to be my favorite holiday and I LOVED fireworks. Now I'm just too lazy to give it enough forethought to even find where they're having them.

I wish I had this thing that Mimi made when she was about 5--it was my favorite piece of kid work ever. It was a piece of paper that said:

It is omos 4 ov july.

It was awesome just as it was, but then, a year and apparently some learnin' later, she unpinned it from the bulletin board I kept it on and, imitating a teacher, she took a red pen to it and corrected it to read:

It is omosT 4 ov July.