Mullett Watch 2005

Me: "Hey Susan, did you know they made Eeyore jackets for adults? And in denim nonetheless."
Susan: "Yeah, I wonder if the mullett comes with the jacket, or if you have to grow your own."

An Open Letter To The People That Just Moved In Upstairs

I realize that you just moved in a week ago, and that's ok with me. Sure, I realize that you're getting settled in, learning the rules of the building, etiquette and what not. What's not okay with me is that you've decided to take the title of "Laundry Nazi" away from the landlady. Heck, you've even kicked it up a notch...taken it to a whole new level. I just can't fathom how it's possible for you to do laundry, load after unending load of laundry, for 3 days straight. Seriously. I mean, come on! Maybe you're going a little laundry crazy, you're a little too excited about the free laundry right in your own building. Maybe you've had to make one too many trips to the local Laundromat with your huge bag o' laundry. I completely understand, believe me I've been there. But even if in all your excitement you've decided to wash every item of clothing, all the towels, washcloths, rugs, drapes, bedsheets, pillow cases, comforters, potholders, tablecloths, every.machine.washable.item.in.your.entire.home, it still wouldn't add up to 72 continuous hours of mind-numbingly annoying laundry hoggage. And yes, hoggage is a word...to me. In case you hadn't noticed there are two other families in this building and some of us would appreciate clean underwear, socks, and what have you. If this continues much longer I will be forced to make the trek up the stairs to kick your ass, old underwear and all. And I'm the nice, quiet, pacifist neighbor, just you wait until the old "Laundry Nazi" gets wind of this...She'll cause you a world of hurt. You'll rue the day you crossed that beast! I suggest you check-itty check yourself before you wreck yourself. Seriously.
Love,
Your New Neighbor

Bitches

Oh sweet Craig, you came through for me again.....
Oooh! Oooh! Can I be the Library Bitch??

I love how the guy gets all "P.C." on us and offers to show us a dictionary with his definintion of "bitches" meaning women. Good times. Hey, I've seriously got dibs on being the library bitch. Back off.

Everyone's Crazy 'Bout A Sharp Dressed Man....

Love has once again weaseled it's way into the cold depths of my broken heart. How it made it past the landmines and razorwire is beyond me, I'm just as shocked and appalled as you are. This time it comes in the form of this incredibly beautiful man. Ladies & Gentlemen meet Carlos...




In my own defense, I must point out that I am keeping within my own rules* here, since he is famous. Besides he dresses impeccably and uses the same color palette as I do (black, red, white) so don't tell me it's not Destiny.
*For those of you not familiar, my rules simply state that I vow to only fall in love with celebrities and gay men for the rest of my God-given life. (Do you see the irony here? Both groups are highly unattainable! Get it ? Get it? Hahahahahaha *cough* cough*Haha.. Aha.. Aha *sigh* That's funny.)

Ahhh Yes, Now I Remember Why I'm So Strongly Opposed To Organized Religion

Sometimes when something really awesome is about to pass you by, Jesus steps in and makes sure you're front & center for the big show. Last night Jesus was busy, but he sent his angel Susan to inform me that I was about to miss the best hour of T.V. in history. EVER. Thank you Jesus. Had it not been for you, and Susan, I would never have had the opportunity to meet Marguerite Perrin. Poor, psycho Marguerite. The video is just a small taste of what really went down on the show last night. She single-handedly turned away anyone that might be looking to become a Christian. Heck, even I was turned away....oh, wait...I'm already a... huh? Whatever. Enjoy!

p.s. I'm joking Mom, I haven't turned my back on the Lord.

Congratulations! It's a Led Zeppelin Fan!

My son officially became a Led Zeppelin fan today. Ahhh kids, they grow up so fast. For the record, he has pretty awesome taste in music... if I do say so myself. He has long been a fan of such greats as The Cure, The Decemberists, Ben Folds, and The Ramones. Oh, did I mention he's four? Yeah. So today as we were out enjoying our Sunday full 'o garage sales, I happened upon a copy of Led Zeppelin's Greatest Hits. At a price of only $1, who could, or would for that matter, pass it up? Not I dear readers. Not I. When we got back to the car I opened the case and quickly turned to him to explain the importance of what he was about to hear. "This is classic son, classic. Listen carefully." As Stairway to Heaven flowed out of the stereo I could see in his eyes that he not only understood but he wanted more. He asked me to repeat "the classic song" (those were his words) another 3 times. Then we moved on to Black Dog, Rock & Roll, and When the Levee Breaks. It wasn't until we heard the sweet sounds of the Immigrant Song that I knew that his newfound appreciation for the roots of rock had turned into love. It does my heart good people. It's times like this that all the questions and doubts that I have as a parent are dispelled and I know that what I'm doing is right.

First Global Warming, Now This...

What the heck is going on in the world when gauchos and these horrible bags (shown below) are allowed out in public without any consequences or retribution? Hello? Am I missing something? These are NOT cute! These are somebody's Grandmother gone horribly wrong. Somebody's unfashionable, not of sound mind Grandmother gone horribly wrong. I am not joking when I say they are everywhere. Who makes them? I'm under the impression that it must be someone on the high end of the fashion spectrum, simply because almost all of the ladies that I've encountered that own these bags are wealthy, must out-do the Jones' types. Honestly, can anyone explain this to me? In all fairness, I should mention that this is one of the better ones. I didn't choose the worst. What does that tell you?? Hmmm? THEY ONLY GET WORSE.
*Thanks to Jennifer for informing me that Vera Bradley is the one responsible for these fashion abominations.

Becoming a Mother

Sometimes (ok, everyday) seemingly mindless thoughts and scenarios run through my head. In all seriousness, it's usually something that doesn't matter this way or that or even have an effect on me...whatsoever. For example, if I happen to glance up and see a plane flying by I might start thinking "I wonder where they're going." And from that will stem thoughts on all sorts of possibilities from where they're flying to what they'll do when they get there. Ok, so now that you fully grasp how moronic I am, and how I could probably better myself in some way if I spent less time thinking about inane twitter, I'll get to the point of this post.
Doing the type of work that I do, I often find myself in the company of mothers. Lots of mothers. Generally, they're older than I. Not because I'm exceptionally young, but because for some reason a fair amount of mothers here in the city wait much longer to have children. We're talking women that are the same age as my mother, raising 3 year olds. Not fun. But then again, when is raising a 3 year old fun?? Exactly. Anyway, so as I'm looking at about 90% of them I'm thinking, I wonder when these women went from this,


this,


or even this,


to this:

Now, I realize that it looks like I'm being judgmental and unfair towards so-called "soccer mom's" but seriously folks, this is an epidemic. Plus, being judgemental is loads of fun. Just to clear things up, I'm not talking about people that have always dressed this way. If that's you, I say "Yea you!" Go on with your personal style. I'm talking about people that once had a unique style, maybe they themselves were considered "a little too out there", but have since taken on a Stepford Wife approach and find it their duty seek and destroy all those that are different. You know the ones, they rule the PTA with an iron fist and "Did you see the outfit Sally's mommy wore? She is so out of the carpool." I know at one time the lady pictured above had to have had her own sense of style and personality. Just look at her wrist and you will notice a small tattoo. That's a sure sign of anti-conformity right there. Now, if that tattoo would have been a Looney Tunes character I would have left well enough alone and gone on to pick out another unfortunate mom picture. But nay dear readers, it is anything but! I'll bet she used to dress in fishnets & combat boots. I would even go so far to say she listened to the Ramones and dyed her hair black. But what on earth could have caused her to change so drastically?? Is this some phenomenon that occurs when mothers reach their 30's? All of a sudden you can't withstand the hypnotic, Pied Piper-esque sounds of Kenny G's soprano sax. It leads you into the streets of your neighborhood and causes you to speak in a really high-pitched, wide-eyed, fake tone of voice about how wonderfully perfect your "can-do-no-wrong" children are with a certain air of superiority. It blocks out all memory of anything that made you a unique and interesting person and replaces it with thoughts of loafers, sensible skirts, and rump roast recipes. It's calling you to Wal-Mart, singing "Buy a lot of pleated khaki trousers, tacky shirts, and leggings. You mustn't forget the leggings." Well to that I say, "No thank you Sir! I will not put away my band t-shirts or grow my hair shoulder length and dye it an acceptable color! I don't care if I'm left out of the gossip circle at the playgroup or given sideways "disapproving" glances." Curse you Kenny G!! And the mini-van you rode in on.