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 | #

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

P.S. to Summer Sucks

Ok--check out that link and tell me--how is a Smiling Malfi mimobot named Buddy Chub not actualy a vibrator? USB drive my ass; why would anyone need a dildo-shaped flash drive named Buddy Chub?



Although, in the interest of full disclosure, I do have to purchase Fairybit Fairybot--I think Cassie will agree that it's the cutest thing I've ever seen!!


Oh no--it keeps getting worse--I just saw that they have Tokidoki mimobots!



Must...stop...looking...

Summer Sucks

Damn, I'm tired. Summer is just not fun for grown-ups; or, I should say, parents of young kids. Sure it's fun--for a while--if you're not working during the summer (or at all) and have not a care in the world about packing lunches for camp or worrying about sending your kid to camp with a bee sting because you don't have any sick time to use.

I used to be a stay home mom so I know the carefree feeling of summer with kids when job worries aren't even on your radar. You get to sleep in every day (except when there's swim practice, but of course you know I'm the kind of mom who would send her kid to inferior afternoon practice to avoid having to get up at 7 am) and the world is basically stress-free.

For about two weeks; three if you're lucky. Then the kids start to get bored and you get bored and then someone gets sick then you all get sick of the pool and start hating being around each other and by the end of July you're pretty much wanting to hang yourself. Maybe that's not the case for the lucky moms who get to go away for weeks at a time to a beach house or something; but then again, it's probably twice as bad for them because there's no dad in the picture--it's all mom, all the time.

Anyway, I forget my point, because I'm so exhausted from just the second day of the work/camp/swim team routine. It's 10:20 pm and I still have yet to go down and make the lunches for tomorrow. I would gladly give each kid $20 to buy a lunch at this point--hell, $50-- but of course they want one made by me. Sigh.

I digress...guess I have to go make the lunches. But now I can't, because the 4 houseguests I've had since Sunday--my inlaws, who I love and hate to speak badly of, as well as two distant cousins of Patrick's--who, incidentally, speak only French--just got home from Patrick's baseball game. Which means the 2 hours of non-socializing or working or driving or mothering time I've had since Sunday have come to an end and I'm too tired to have to go drag out the high-school French and piece together a conversation while I make lunches.

I shouldn't complain because they're all very nice and, under less hectic circumstances it would be fun to hang out and dust off the French some more; however, right now all I want to do is turn off the lights, insert my trusty Flents, down an Ambien and wake up when everyone is gone.

Anyone want to drive by and leave some Lunchables in my driveway by 7 am tomorrow? Mimi likes pizza and Matthew likes turkey and cheddar.

Lest my rant has put you in a funk, let's take a page from my sister Cassie's blog: I defy you to look at this page and not smile. Or at least wonder "WTF?"