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The Sunday of Summer


The end of summer is coming.

I can smell it in the air.  As my favorite season threatens to come to a close, I find myself waking earlier than I should each morning in a panic.  I have begun to think about the start of school and I have started to worry about things that I haven’t worried about since June.

august

I have one more week of freedom so I am going to FORCE myself to continue to enjoy the summer and to ignore those worries that are starting to creep into my subconscious.  I will ignore the mental list I have begun to make regarding school supplies, after school activities and birthday parties that I need to RSVP for.

In order to preserve my mental health I am going to continue to enjoy all of the stuff that I have been loving and obsessing over this summer which include but are not limited to the following:

#1 The Ice Bucket Challenge: - This is just sheer genius.  The National ALS Foundation stated that it has raised ten million dollars in the past two weeks!!!  It’s fun and it’s for a good cause.

Also, as a side note those people whose pictures you stalk on Facebook have now come to life.  Now you can watch and hear someone who you haven’t seen in twenty-five years.  You can listen to their voice and watch them interact with their kids and most of all you can watch them get drenched with ice water.  What is not to love about this?

#2 – Paddle Board – I desperately wanted to get a paddleboard for myself so I could pretend I was Cameron Diaz for the kids.  My father surprised us for Christmas with one and it is the best beach activity ever.  It provides endless fun for the children and even though in my mind I look like a svelte celebrity straight out of the pages of US Weekly, in fact I look like this – most of the time:

kimk

I don’t really care.  I love it.

#3 – Summer reading: Is there anything better than getting off of your paddle board and plopping down into your beach chair and reading books about people in beach houses and summer homes filled with scandal??  No there’s not.

These two books brought me great joy this summer:

 

pool liars

 

#4 – Game of Crowns:    After a long day of ignoring my children, pretending I am a celebrity paddle boarding in Maui, and reading about imaginary people in their summer homes, I just really need something relaxing at night.  This is why I have been thoroughly enjoying the new show on Bravo, Game of Crowns.

This show features married women who compete in pageants.  One of the stars of the show is the former Mrs. Connecticut and Mrs. America.

I like to watch this show and imagine what I would do if I was Mrs. America or Mrs. Connecticut.

The real Mrs. America is very sweet and down-to-earth and is a mother to four children.

She doesn't let the sash or crown go to her head...But I am not so sure I would be able to stay grounded.

She doesn’t let the sash or crown go to her head…But I am not so sure I would be able to stay grounded.  I would totally wear this outfit to the PTO Meeting at my kids’ school.

I wouldn’t love doing those pageants.

I wouldn’t love not eating anything so I could fit into my swimsuit.

I wouldn’t love being friends with other lunatic pageant women.

What I would love is just announcing to people that I was Mrs. America.

If Mr. Gaga asked me if I washed his underwear, I could just say “No – sorry – I am Mrs. America and Mrs. America doesn’t do laundry.”

Moms who call for playdates would be told that “Because I am Mrs. America I really don’t have time for playdates.”

Birthday party invites could go directly in the garbage…”Sorry – since I am Mrs. America I have very important work to do on Saturdays and Sundays for America and my kids will be with me…”

Even when my own kids asked me for shit I could say “Do you know who I am?? I am MRS. AMERICA!” Go outside and don’t come back until dinner time.”

Those baseball games that I don’t watch.  Nobody could accuse me of being a bad mother because I would simply explain to them that as MRS. AMERICA I had very important America stuff to do that required me to miss the games completely.

Oh it would be glorious.

#5 – Baked Potato Salad and Grilled Cheese:

When I’m not reading, fantasizing about pageants, or floating out to sea on the paddleboard, I am generally drinking alcoholic beverages or eating food.  This summer we have made lots of delicious foods but a couple of dishes have stood out.

This potato salad is made with baked potatoes, chives, sour cream, cheddar cheese and bacon.

I mean I don’t know what else I can say about it except that it is basically heaven on a fork (and I don’t even like potatoes.)

potatoes

And then there’s this tomato, basil and mozzarella grilled cheese that I have made like three times this summer….I mean I just can’t get enough.

caprese

And then there’s the s’mores brownies….

smores

These recipes can otherwise be known as “Reasons why I am NOT Mrs. America” – but I am going to continue this life of bliss and peace for one more week……

PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME – EVEN IF I AM NOT THE REAL MRS. AMERICA I AM AT LEAST THE FUNNIEST! MOM IN AMERICA

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Beach Rules


This week I am taking a staycation which will include lots of wine and lots of beach time.

Just as a precaution I am reposting the BEACH RULES that I devised last summer.

They are very important and everyone should know them.

People’s behaviors never cease to amaze me. On the beach, and in beach communities there are certain unspoken rules.

I thought I should review a few:

1 – Jellyfish are assholes:

They are a menace to society.  They ruin perfectly good swimming time.

They sting small children and send them screaming to their mothers.

Apparently everyone didn’t get the “jellyfish are motherfuckers” memo.

The other day the kids scooped a jellyfish out of the water, dug a hole and were about to dump it in and cover it with sand.  A woman stopped them and said “Why would you a murder an animal for no reason?”

After I got done rolling on the ground laughing, I took a huge scoop of dirt and threw it on the jellyfish.  Have all humans lost their minds?

I’m sorry did I miss something here? Aren’t jellyfish just lazy blobs of shit that float around waiting for one of their asshole tentacles to brush against someone and ruin his or her day?

Jellyfish are assholes, and so are you if you are trying to save them.

See, now this guy and I would not get along.  I think there is something wrong with a person that enjoys jellyfish.  If I could name this picture I would name this picture "Two Assholes."

See, now this guy and I would not get along. I think there is something wrong with a person that enjoys jellyfish. If I could name this picture I would call it “Two Assholes.”

2 – Urine belongs in the ocean:

I was watching my 3-year-old niece on the beach the other day and she announced just as I was settling into my beach chair that she needed to go back to the house to use the potty.

“No, no when you are with Auntie, the ocean is your potty,” I explained.

“No.” she said staring at me blankly. After much talking and going back and forth to the water, Mr. Gaga got her to do it. Thank God.

Unless there is diarrhea threatening I am not leaving the beach.

3 – Groom:

I have mentioned my moustache before, so I know what it’s like to keep up with a never-ending growth of hair in unwanted areas.  It is simply imperative that one waxes or trims areas where hair is growing in an out-of-control way that could make a person appear like a bear or gorilla on the beach.

Sam accidentally bumped into this guy and when he came out of the water I had to roll a huge lint roller to get all of the pubes off his bathing suit....

Sam accidentally bumped into this guy and when he came out of the water I had to roll a huge lint roller over him to get all of the pubes off his bathing suit….

Even if you are fine with wearing a pube sweater to the beach, you should consider how you might affect others.

4 – Sandcastles are valuable real estate owned by others:

This is pretty serious business.  When your child works diligently for an hour creating a sand masterpiece and some toddler comes over and eats it or sits on it, that’s considered very rude.

You need to watch your kids and teach them at an early age that they are not allowed to touch other people’s sand structures…It’s basic beach etiquette.

5 – Sand toys are for sharing:

Please don’t come stare me down while I am trying to read US Weekly and ask me if my kids are using your shovel. Um, yeah probably…and who fucking cares?

They probably took it because we have the same shovel as you, and so do the other 500 people on this beach.

Just so you know these are 45 for $1 at any store...please stop talking about where your shovel is....

Just so you know these are 15 for $1 at any store…please stop talking about where your shovel is….

If you care this much about your shovel, please don’t sit near me. We will definitely take it and could very possibly break it or send it out to sea.  I don’t need this kind of pressure.

6 – Watch your kids, no matter their age:

Believe me I get the whole thing about ignoring your kids once they can swim, it’s like my favorite thing to do.  However, when your kids are a little older you have to start watching them a little more.

Although you don’t have to worry that they will drown, you do have to worry that they are huge douche-bags.

The other day, my boys were playing with their blow up jet ski raft and their boogie boards with a friend.  Shortly, 2 ten-year-olds came and hijacked the float, tossing the boys into the water and hopping on.  The kids struggled to pull the older kids off.  I was watching this from my beach chair, when suddenly one of the older kids smashed Sam in the face with the boogie board.

These were the kids, happy and content before they were bullied on the seas....

These were the kids, happy and content before they were bullied on the high seas….

I ran into the water, “Are you insane?” I yelled at the devil child as I ripped the boogie board from his hand.

“Why would you hit a 5 year-old in the face? What’s wrong with you?” I hissed.

“He was tackling me…” he said meekly. “He was tackling you because you took his stuff.” I said between gritted teeth.

“What’s going on here?” I heard then.

I looked up and realized that the devil child’s mother was in the water like a foot away and had allowed this whole thing to go down.

“The problem is that your son smashed my son in the face with a boogie board.” I said.

“Oh.” she responded.

I stormed away.

“Oh?”  That’s what you say when your child is complete dick?

How about “Sorry about that, my kid is a total asshole and I am going to speak to him about it.” or how about “I am sorry that I stood just inches away and watched my son smash your son’s face in, I am on some heavy-duty tranquilizers and I cannot respond appropriately.” Either of those would do.

7 – Don’t bring the Ferrari :

Basically the kids deposit large amounts of sand and seaweed and wet shit in and on every inch of my car for the two months when we spend time at the beach.

They lean up on the outside of the car creating areas where their SPF 50 smears onto the paint never to be removed again.  Salt and dust eat away at the undercarriage and rots the paint.

When the cars aren’t at the beach parking lot, they are parked in tiny driveways of beach houses that are basically on the street. Imagine my surprise when a day after the douchebag jet ski pirate hit Sam, his (biggest nerd in America) father marched up our driveway.

I braced myself for what this idiot was going to say.

He said that “someone” saw my kids playing in the street and their wagon hit his minivan and left a mark.

He was clearly trying to get me back for calling his kid out on his bad behavior. I was speechless. What should we do about this nerd boy? I apologized like a civilized human but on the inside I was ready to explode.

As he showed me the miniscule mark on his Windstar, I contemplated just kicking him in the balls and walking away, but I thought the kids might get upset....

As he showed me the miniscule mark on his Windstar, I contemplated just kicking him in the balls and walking away, but I thought the kids might get upset….

If you care this much about your Lamborghini  mini-van perhaps the beach isn’t a great place for it, you fucking loser, and please never speak to me again unless someone is on fire.

8 – Umbrella Etiquette:

I can’t figure out if it’s global warming or my skin is just old and literally weathered, but I cannot just sit out and bake like I used to.

I recently have sat under an umbrella for the first time in my decades of beach bathing. As a result, apparently I don’t know how to install a beach umbrella.

I just kind of stuck it in the sand while preparing for my BF to come meet me the other day.

Right when she arrived the umbrella flew with a gust of wind and impaled 50 people.  Thankfully, she is an expert at getting people to do things for her, and happens to have strong resemblance to Kim Kardashian.

She retrieved the umbrella from two men that were sitting with their kids.  They handed her the umbrella, and she took it gingerly and just stared blankly at them.

“What should I do now?” she asked.  “I don’t know how to do this…”

In two seconds flat, both men were digging a huge hole and expertly securing the umbrella. Unfortunately this can’t happen everyday.  It’s imperative to know how to work the umbrella as to not murder innocent victims.

9 – Use an umbrella not a small shelter :

So if you want shade, then the umbrella is the obvious choice.  If you decide to install a nylon shelter that can house 35 people, then maybe the beach is not for you.

Now my view is blocked completely and I can’t even see my kids if they are drowning because you have decided to put up an event tent at the beach for you and the two other people in your family.

Ok so basically the rule is, if you can host a small graduation party under the tent, it's too big for the beach....

Ok so basically the rule is, if you can host a small graduation party under the tent, it’s too big for the beach….

10 – If you see Lady Goo Goo Gaga on the beach, keep it moving:

In closing, I just want to relax.  The winters are long here in Connecticut.

I have very few precious days that I can spend luxuriously on the beach.

Don’t torture my kids, don’t tell my kids not to kill animals, don’t ask me about sand toys or tell me you have to pee.

Let’s keep all this talking to a minimum. I am TRYING to get through one issue of US WEEKLY!! HAPPY SUMMER !  PLEASE CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA 150-tmb

The best playdate ever….


Mr. Gaga is a birthday party lover.

He feels that our children should attend every party that they are invited to for fear that the birthday child in question will not have a nice birthday due to low party attendance.

Therefore, as I have mentioned before, while I repeatedly attempt to destroy birthday party invitations by lighting them on fire or flushing them down the toilet – he will always catch me and insist that we RSVP “Yes” to every party.

Sometimes if I am feeling charitable I stick the invites in my old wine bottles and send them out to sea so some other poor soul can enjoy them...

Sometimes if I am feeling charitable I stick the invites in my old wine bottles and send them out to sea so some other poor soul can enjoy them…

When Sam received an invite for the day after the last day of school I just didn’t think that we could commit to that.   The child was not really a good friend of Sam’s so I didn’t feel obligated.  We didn’t know the parents so I had no problem throwing the invite in the garbage. The day after the last day of school we are usually running around going to social engagements or going to the beach for the weekend, anyways.

Mr. Gaga wouldn’t hear of it.   I had to work during the day, and I asked Mr. Gaga if he really was going to feel like bringing Sam to a party on a Friday evening at 5 PM.  He confirmed that he would definitely be available for that.

That day I came home around 7 PM.   Just the time that the party was set to be over.

Mr. Gaga, Michael and Sam were lounging around watching television and the gift was sitting in front of the door where I had left it in the morning.

“Um, what happened with the party?”  I asked.

They all looked at me with a shocked look.  Mr. Gaga jumped up in despair.

“Oh my God! I totally forgot! We were relaxing and we totally forgot!” he said hysterically.

Because I am tortured by Mr. Gaga I had visions of the child alone surrounded by balloons and cake with no friends at his party.  What if nobody could attend and he was counting on Sam to be there? Sam is beloved by the children in his class and many mothers have exclaimed to me that Sam is their child’s “best friend!” when we don’t even know who they are.

What if this was one of those kids that loves Sam and wanted him to be there?

We were horrible people!!

We destroyed his birthday!

We possibly destroyed his life!!

sad

I launched into action and ran into the basement to explore my shelf filled with toys and gifts that we never opened.  I keep this shelf readily available for this type of occasion when an emergency gift is needed.

I cleared off the shelf and frantically started wrapping gifts.

I ran upstairs with all of the gifts and grabbed the original gift and urged Sam to get his shoes on.  I googled the boy’s name and address.

“Come on, we will bring his gift to his house and apologize.” I told Sam.

We loaded the gifts into the car and peeled out of the driveway.

When we pulled up to the address it looked as though nobody was home.

“Oh good – we will just leave a note with the gifts,” I told Sam as we got out of the car and he rang the doorbell.

Lo and behold the family was home.

“No worries!” the mother exclaimed when I apologized profusely as I shoved gifts into her foyer.

“No – we are so sorry! We feel horrible!!” I said emphatically as I placed the gifts at the little boys feet.

“Don’t be silly!” she said nicely as she looked at the pile of gifts, “and we don’t need all of these gifts.”

Gift boxes-110

 

“Oh no – these were his gifts anyways.” I said casually.

“No really – we can’t take all of these gifts.” she pleaded.

“No – don’t be crazy!  These were totally his gifts!!” I said as I turned to leave.

And just when I was just about in the clear…

“So maybe we can do a playdate this summer!” she called after me.

Normally I find myself maneuvering ways out of these torture hours playdates – but this time I had an excuse.

“Oh sorry – we will be at the Connecticut shore for the summer,” I said softly pretending to be disappointed.

“So will we!” she exclaimed.  “We will be there for two weeks! We can get together down there!”

Oh Lord – why is that when I do a good deed of showering a small child with millions of presents am I punished????

“Ok – definitely contact me when you are there!” I said cheerfully, ushering Sam out the door.

I thought nothing of it – because clearly what kind of sadomasochistic maniac would really remember on their family vacation to schedule a playdate with a perfect stranger who forgot your child’s birthday?

Then I received an email with the subject line “BEACH PLAYDATE.”

She was asking if we could schedule a playdate on the beach.  I quickly shot that down because I don’t like a playdate on the grass or on the floors of my home – so I sure as hell don’t like one on the fucking sandy beach where I can be relaxing and enjoying life.

“How about we meet at the carousel and ice cream shop tomorrow night?” I wrote back kindly.

I had plans to go to an early dinner with some family and I could head to the carousel for ice cream after that.  She agreed to the plan.

The next day was a perfect ten.

I was supposed to leave for dinner at 5 and I was regretting my decision.  I wanted to stay on the beach until the last possible minute.  Thankfully we were just going to a lobster roll shack, so at 4:40 I headed home to grab my wallet and threw a sundress on over my bathing suit.

After dinner I rushed back home.  I got home at 6:40 and was supposed to meet these people at the carousel at 7.  I quickly showered, got dressed and pulled into the carousel at 6:58!

I was very proud of myself.  I had gotten ready very quickly and also I was a very good person for agreeing to this.  I knew that this little boy would be happy to see Sam and the mother would forgive me for missing her child’s birthday so it was all worth it.  My good works and efforts would make everybody happy.

I was the best mother and person in the land.

We stood in front of the carousel watching the horses go around, waiting for the family.

After a few minutes the kids started to whine.  “Where are they Mom?” Sam asked excitedly.

“I’m sure they will be here in a minute,” I answered distractedly looking at the street watching cars pull in.

After a few more minutes I asked the kids if they wanted to get ice cream while we waited.  They said they wanted to wait for Sam’s friend.

I glanced up at the clock outside the ice cream shop.

7_30

 

I stared at it and said to the kids, “Maybe they forgot….” and as the words came out of my mouth I realized those were the very words that this mother must have told her son when Sam didn’t show up for his party.

I looked at the kids slack-jawed. “Oh…..my….God.”

“What mom? Do you think they’re coming?” Sam asked excitedly.

“Nope, they definitely are NOT coming, Sam.” I answered definitively.

And I was right.  They never showed up.

I let the kids get their ice cream and go on the carousel a few times and then we headed home.

I checked my email and what do you know – I had a cheerful email saying that “We totally forgot! Hope we can reschedule!”

Oh we will reschedule all right.

We have set up a new date for next week, but two can play at this game.

I may or may not show up.

Now this could be my new favorite type of playdate…..the one that never happens!

CLEARLY I AM A VERY GOOD PERSON THAT SHOWERS STRANGE CHILDREN WITH GIFTS…PLEASE VOTE FOR ME BY CLICKING THE BANNER BELOW!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff


This week my grandmother passed away.  She was the mother of seven children.  She stayed home and raised those seven children in a four bedroom home on a very tight budget.    She had no spending money for anything frivolous and struggled to have enough food, clothing, heat and hot water for everyone.

While most of the parents I know – would find this situation highly disturbing and would spend their afternoon chugging Pinot Grigio – she really didn’t seem to mind.

She spent most of her life in her home, (as she didn’t have a driver’s license) cleaning, caring for the children and doing laundry, including cloth diapers – which she called doing the “warsh. “

When I think of her life I really can’t imagine anything more horrific.  When I had just a mere TWO babies, I remember packing them into the car to run mindless errands just to kill time and when Mr. Gaga would come home from work, I would literally sometimes already be in my car waiting for him and pull my car out as he pulled in.  I would go anywhere for an escape, the gym, Starbucks….I would’ve gone to a hanging.  The thought of being trapped in a house with seven children with no vehicle is just ludicrous.

But my grandmother really never complained.  I don’t ever remember her even seeming unhappy.  I believe this was possible because she had something that my generation of parents lacks.

She had pills, a boyfriend, whiskey  an innate ability to not sweat the small stuff.

What parents stress about today and lose sleep over would never have bothered my grandmother.

The way we obsess about the food our children eat – was downright laughable to my grandmother.  She used to walk to the local farm every day to buy “cracks” which were eggs that had cracked.  She bought those because they were “on sale.” She was buying organic from “local farms” before it was cool.  The fact that food poisoning could occur at any moment was of no matter.

She didn’t care about the latest styles and fashions for her children.  She didn’t order designer clothing from Zulily and Crew Cuts like we do.  My aunts and uncles always talk about how mortified they were when they were in school.  Their clothes were rarely up to par and she used to make her kids wear Wonder Bread wrappers inside their rainboots to protect their feet – because the boots would usually have a hole in them. Nowadays we would be up all night worrying about the damage being done to our kids’ self esteem.

She slept soundly.

While we rush around spending millions on water slides and party favors for our little spoiled brats, my grandmother practically ignored her kid’s birthdays.  One time she famously had a left over square of cake and a half of a circle cake and smooshed them together for to create a birthday cake for both my aunt and my brother.  She saw nothing wrong with that until my aunt cried, at which point she said something comforting like, “Stop your crying.”

She had a zest for life.  Music always played in her home.  Any hairbrush or wooden spoon that was lying around nearby would be instantly transformed into a pretend microphone.  I remember distinctly going to her house after school sometimes if my mother had an appointment and she would be ironing clothes out of a huge basket.  She would take breaks to sing into her hairbrush and dance with my aunts.

She loved the arts and what little extra money my grandparents did have, was spent at the museums, ballets, and the symphony.  She was an artist herself, and any spare time she had she spent sketching or painting.

This painting of my Grandmother's hangs in my room.  I can relate to it because the mom is at the beach with two children and apparently her ass is so enormous that it is threatening to bust through the chair.

This painting of my Grandmother’s hangs in my room. I can relate to it because the mom is at the beach with two children and apparently her ass is so enormous that it is threatening to bust through the chair.

She made some mean pancakes on a griddle (that I don’t think she actually ever cleaned over the course of about twenty years) and a chocolate cake to die for that she called a “Brown Betty.”

She made being a mother, even of seven, look easy.

Throughout the funeral and wake, people were sharing stories and mentioning things that she used to say.  I got to thinking – what kind of impact would I leave for my children?  What would they remember about me?

“Sam – if you had to tell someone about your mother what would you say?” I asked casually while I was tucking him into bed.

“Oh – I would say you were pretty and smart, and that you told me I should say excuse me when you fart or burp.” he answered earnestly.

“What about something that I always say?” I asked.

“Oh – I would say whenever we complain – you tell us that there are people with no arms or legs!” he answered excitedly hoping to have the answer I was looking for.

I was happy with that.  Long ago I started to mention limbless people. in an effort to stop my children from complaining about insignificant nonsense and was glad that Sam remembered that.

The next morning I asked Michael the same questions.

“Um, you’re nice.” he answered mindlessly while he ate his cereal.

“Okay, well then what would you say if someone asked you what is something that your mother always said to you?”

He thought for a moment.

“Oh I know what you always say to me….”he said –  excited that he thought of something, “What the “F”?”

I stared at him in horror.

If I want my legacy to be something to write home about – apparently I have to get a little better at speaking to my children.

I need to calm down and take a page out of Grandma’s book.

I need to enjoy life and enjoy my children.

I need to skip the trip to the mall for new rain boots and sing into my hairbrush a little more.

PLEASE CLICK ON THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE BEST MOTHER IN AMERICA!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

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All Hats Are Off…


I am famous for slacking off in the summer as a parent.

I am present  diligent  focused doting   a good parent for the most part from September through June.  Come July all bets are off.

We follow the rules for food, school, sports, bed time, reading lists, appropriate screen times, etc. during the year and in the summer it’s time to let things slide.

So when Mr. Gaga came home from a NASCAR race (for real) with hats for the kids and they wore them to summer camp I didn’t think twice.

They were so proud and excited to wear the hats because they thought they looked like really cool teenagers, off they went on their bikes and I went to the beach to read my book.  Everyone was happy.

They came home completely devastated.

“First we were playing a game and they counselors said “Anyone wearing an inappropriate hat come on this team’ and they were talking about me and Michael!” Sam said with astonishment.

“Yeah then later they actually pulled us aside and said that we had to take our hats off and that they would give them to us after camp!” Michael said with despair.

“Why?” I asked incredulously.

“They said that our hats were “beer hats!” Sam said with horror.

So you are all envisioning this horrible hat from a NASCAR race that would be deemed “inappropriate.”   Something like this….

supreme-playboy-snapback-hat-cap-black

Or maybe at least this….

$(KGrHqN,!qcFGlEjIVVeBRzJO!qNE!~~60_35

 

Or I could see how this hat could potentially be offensive….

sluts

 

I stared at their hats doubtfully…..”But who even knows what the heck this is?”

hat

Who the fuck drinks apple ale?? And who the fuck cares?

“One of the older kids said ‘That’s a beer hat!” Michael said matter-of-factly.

“Well who cares?” I asked getting annoyed. “It’s not like a Newport Light hat or a porn hat!”

The kids stared at me and shrugged.

I started making their lunch fuming mad.  First of all it’s summer camp at the beach, it’s not some sort of educational institution run by Communists.  Second of all, are we not allowed to discuss beer or admit that we drink it daily?   By creating a big fuss about this stupid hat it makes my children feel as though drinking beer is very bad….in which case they will start to wonder about their father and all of the hats he wears…..

great-hat-fan
When I was growing up my parents and aunts and uncles would drink all the time. We thought nothing of it.  In the old days, fathers would come home and just walk in the door at 5 PM and start chugging straight scotch or whiskey out of a rocks glass.

Dads would down straight liquor and puff on cigars and cigarettes in the house after a long day of work while the children quietly did their homework or played.

Nobody would even bat an eyelash while grown adults utilized grown adult substances.

What would Don Draper do if someone complained about his kid’s “Apple Juice Hat?” He would throw back his drink and blow smoke in the person’s face and laugh….

We didn’t really feel comfortable doing that but I just made a special hat and necklace for Mr. Gaga the next day when he brought the kids to camp.

beer-hat2

Nobody seemed to notice so the next day – I brought the kids myself and really tried to make a statement….

 

 

thumb_cigarette-hat

 

I think it’s safe to say that nobody will be bothering us about our choice of fashion accessories anymore….

PLEASE CLICK THE LINK BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME AS THE FUNNIEST MOM IN AMERICA!!

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Hershey Smershey


Well this week I decided to take the kids away for a couple of days with my friend, Jane and her children.

I have always heard great things about Hershey Park and I thought it would be a great place for two little boys and for two girlfriends who love chocolate.  Every time I told someone we were going – they would tell me how wonderful and magical it was.  “The kids will love it!” everyone assured me.

Many people have also suggested more adventurous trips for the two boys – like the Grand Canyon – but I thought this would be a logical first step.

I imagined a magical place with chocolate fountains and everyone told me that as you entered into the town of Hershey you could actually smell chocolate in the air.  There were tons of rides for the kids and a water park.  Basically it would be a wonderful adventure and would secure my ranking as “Best Mom Ever.”

Ok well first of all as we were getting close to the Hershey gates, after driving for 5 1/2 hours I rolled down my windows with excitement.  We all stuck our heads out the car windows.  Maybe the factory was closed that day – or maybe fresh landscaping had just occurred but all we smelled was manure.

We were off to a great start.

Off we went to the amusement park.  We started off on a few rides and we did one pretty tame rollercoaster.  As we got further into the park we realized that several of the rides were closed. On one ride Jane and Michael waited in a half hour-long line before being told that the coaster was broken.

Michael the daredevil of the group, was getting frustrated.  We came upon a very unusual ride where you get strapped into what looks like a rollercoaster seat and then you go down a straight rail, practically at the speed of light.

We watched group after group get catapulted forward at lightning speeds into a tunnel out of sight.

“Please!! Please can I do that one?” Michael pleaded.

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly as I watched people’s heads jolt back from the excessive speed.

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“Yes! Please!” he begged.

I relented and Jane agreed to go on with him.

We watched them get catapulted forward and waited for them to get off the ride.  They had disappeared.  We peered through the tunnel and under the trees that were blocking our view and I realized with horror that in fact the ride didn’t end with just a straight shot – but instead went on to become one of the most insane rollercoasters I had ever seen in my life.

Oopsie...there goes Michael.

Oopsie…there goes Michael.

After that whole fiasco we decided to have lunch and head over to the water park.

This part of the park reminded me of other hellish places I have been where water is squirting out from fifteen million places and a huge bucket above the area fills up with water and then tips over and drenches everyone with a tidal wave.   We were hot from milling about in the blazing 90 degree heat, so we thought it would be a good break.

As we approached we soon realized that there would absolutely be no way to watch our children.

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The kids chose the longest slide and we agreed to let them go all together up the stairs to wait in line for that particular purple slide and we would wait on the ground for them.  The line was long and our skin was burning as we waited for 15 minutes while they ascended the stairs.  As I peered around there were a lot of unsavory characters in ill-fitting bathing suits.  I slipped off my flip-flops and waded in a cold puddle to cool off, counting the minutes until we could leave this area.

Fifteen more minutes passed and we looked up into the sun trying to find their little bodies on the stairwell.  We spotted them and realized they hadn’t moved ahead much.

Another fifteen minutes passed and we could no longer see them and we were starting to get nervous.

“I’m going to go the bottom of the slide to wait for them! This is taking way too long!” I told my friend with despair.

Human beings of all shapes and sizes came one after another shooting out from the slide, but not our children.

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Finally, after one hour of waiting we could see our kids right at the top of the stairs, up next to come down the slide.  I walked up close so I could get a nice picture of them coming down the long-awaited slide.

But what was this that came shooting down?

This wasn’t one of our children….I took a closer look as a woman came tumbling down on her back in a big splash, legs spread wide……with NO BATHING SUIT BOTTOM ON!!!!  She leaned down and grabbed her bottoms that had slipped down around her ankles and pulled it back up.

I almost died.

Then she just walked back towards the line to do it again like nothing happened....

Then she just walked back towards the line to do it again like nothing happened….

I looked at my friend in despair – “But wait – I think our kids our next – that means – her bits and pieces just rubbed all the way down the slide!” I screeched in horror.

“Yup,” Jane said laughing as the kids came shooting down, “Here they come in the vagina tunnel…”

That was enough of that.

“Come on kids – a few more rides and then we can go to the Chocolate Museum.” I said wrapping the kids in towels and shuffling them out of the water park.

“But – we only did one ride!” the kids cried.

We ignored them and did a few more rides, even though we waited in two more lines!! that shut down the ride while we were mid-line!

Finally we headed out of the park and made our way towards “Chocolate World,” which was what I had been dreaming of all day. We were to go on a tour of the chocolate factory.

I knew for sure this whole day of torture would end with a delightful cruise down a chocolate river…

I couldn't wait for this delightful tour and was so excited to hear that we would receive a fresh off the presses piece of Hershey's chocolate at the end....

I couldn’t wait for this delightful tour and was so excited to hear that we would receive a fresh off the presses piece of Hershey’s chocolate at the end….

 

Only the tour was a fake-ass tour with barrels of fake liquid and a fake story about how chocolate is made….. I couldn’t help but think along the tour – “Where is the barrel of high fructose corn syrup??”

tour

This is fucking bullshit -Where is Gene Wilder?????

 

The kids enjoyed the tour and didn’t seem to notice that it was completely absurd and stupid. When we hopped off our beautiful chocolate river boat  motorized tour cart – I thought to myself at least we will receive a delicious piece of chocolate at the end of all of this.

 

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

We peeled out of that Hershey Park so fast gnawing on our pomegranate balls in disgust.

The next time someone tells me some place is “wonderful” I am going to have to think long and hard about this.

The first thing I am crossing off my list is the Grand Canyon.  Many people have told me how “amazing” it is there.

Guess what? I am not falling for this bullshit anymore.

I am not riding some filthy goat up a mountain and looking down into a ditch where I can fall to my death at any moment…..

I’m thinking “stay-cations” are more my speed.

 

CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME FOR THE BEST!! MOTHER IN AMERICA -EVEN THOUGH I SENT MY KID DOWN A VAGINA TUNNEL AND A WILD DEATH ROLLERCOASTER!

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Born in the wild (to assholes)


I have been enjoying my long weekend at the beach with lots of sun, food and drink.  There haven’t been too many parenting dilemmas to speak of because ….well…quite frankly I have been ignoring the children.

However, I did find out about something new and exciting in the birthing world that I felt I should discuss.

During this week we enjoyed parties and celebrations of our “independence” as a nation. On July 4th, 1776 the Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence.  One of our “Founding Fathers”  who helped to get the wheels in motion to ensure our independence from Great Britain was the one and only, Benjamin Franklin.

I pretty much just thought he did that and then flew kites got electrocuted by lightning all day, but apparently he did some other very important stuff.

Apparently he just dicked around with kites all day...nice life.

Apparently he just dicked around with kites all day…nice life.

He put together a very important petition in Pennsylvania to create an institution that is now known as the “hospital.”

… petitioners were directed to present the Assembly with a bill to create a hospital. Presented a week later, the bill encouraged the Assembly to establish a hospital “to care for the sick poor of the Province and for the reception and care of lunaticks.”

From that day on we have enjoyed the comforts of hospital care.

We are able to enjoy modern medicine in well-lit sterile environments filled with trained medical professionals who spent years and years studying the human body at expensive medical schools.

We have been blessed with enjoyable television programming such as ER and Grey’s Anatomy and General Hospital.

Everyone is so focused on that damn kite - why don't we celebrate Benjamin Franklin for bringing us this??

Everyone is so focused on that damn kite – why don’t we celebrate Benjamin Franklin for bringing us this??

But now we have something even more groundbreaking to look forward to in the world of television.

I quite enjoy reality television and I have to say this spring, Lifetime Television really outdid themselves by bringing us some of the most riveting television in the history of reality TV with “True Tori.”

"My heart is ripped out!" Tori screamed before she kicked all of the baby and wedding pictures of the bed and had a complete nervous breakdown.  It was absolutely fascinating.

“My heart is ripped out!” Tori screamed before she kicked all of the baby and wedding pictures off the bed and had a complete nervous breakdown. It was absolutely fascinating.

I am sorry but I cannot forgive Lifetime for their next big show.  No matter how many scrapbooks Tori kicks off of her bed in hysterics.

‘Born in the Wild’ is set to debut on Lifetime, “a documentation of what happens when women actually give birth with no help from doctors.”

Lifetime is presenting us with a reality show this summer featuring women who feel that the birthing process should not be in a local hospital.  It should apparently not be in their home either. These women find that hospitals and homes are too “medicalized” and that birth should be a natural and beautiful process.

Modern mothers once again have decided to reinvent the wheel.  Convinced that evil medicine and sterility will destroy their precious beautiful birth moment, they have taken to popping kids out in kiddie pools in their dining room in droves.

They even hire photographers to document this amazing process.

Here a woman entertains everyone with a quick rendition of “Chopsticks” while she anxiously awaits her new baby!

piano birth

 

When she is finished with a quick “Moonlight Sonata” she urges her partner to hop into his Tommy Bahama bathing suit, and put on his gold chain and dry-hump her from behind.

birth couple

Soon after they hop into the kiddie pool that is set up in their living room and begin the process of childbirth at home.

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kiss

But no!! Even the home birth isn’t natural enough for the latest batch of assholes bearing newborns.

Too sterile!! Not natural enough!!

So where should one squeeze out a child and a placenta these days?  Where could a mother be completely immersed in this beautiful process with no disruptions from modern medicine or trained professionals?

Oh….the rainforest of course!

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I will just put my yoga mat right here in this filthy creek….

Lifetime’s PR people put out the crafty tagline for the show asking“What happens when the craziest experience of a woman’s life becomes truly wild, and soon-to-be parents decide to take on an unassisted birth in the outdoors?” 

Oh I’ll tell you what happens….these poor children get to experience their very first moments of being born to stupid fucking “lunatiks” (as Ben Franklin would call them.)  They might get Legionnaire’s Disease from still water or they might get stung by a wasp and contract malaria.

Ben Franklin worked long and hard to bring us hospitals where we have the luxury of knowing that if something goes wrong, then people who spent every penny they had at Harvard Medical School will help to ensure that our baby survives.  Do you think that you are so one with Mother Nature that you are willing to risk the safety of your newborn child?

Let’s just say that everything is fine and you don’t need any help from a doctor or the comforts of an emergency room….

What if a frog or salamander jumps onto your baby when it pops out? What if it shoots out and hits his head on the rocks?  What if he goes into the water and a wave comes and he starts floating away? What if an animal eats him? What if the baby ingest bacteria ridden algae from the creek as it comes out?

Do you think you are a fish or other animal that lives in the rainforest? Because you are not.  What you are is an ignorant fool.

Oh and PS – nice ponytail.

Apparently when things get uncomfortable by the creek you can always pop on over to your purple yoga mat that’s set up on a bed of rocks.

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Then when all is said and done you can just move away from all of the bloody pebbles and nurse your new baby and think about how amazing and “natural” and “wild” you are and how much Benjamin Franklin would hate your guts.

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Oh how nice that you were able to stop at the local rainforest J Crew for a statement necklace for this happy occasion!

 

I am hoping that True Tori has another season or maybe I will start watching General Hospital again, because watching ‘lunatiks’ give birth on beds of filthy rocks filled with bugs and bacteria is not my idea of entertainment.

Yet just one more piece of evidence that mothers of today have completely lost their minds.

I HEART BENJAMIN FRANKLIN!! CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

 

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