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Author Archives: Lady Googoogaga

Report cards (vague cards without reports)

When I was in fourth grade, I received my first bad grade.  It was on a science test that I was completely unprepared for and my grade was a 52 % or a “U” which stood for “unsatisfactory.”

Being a shining star that always got perfect grades without even trying, I almost fainted and shit my pants when I saw that letter “U.”  I couldn’t think straight for the remainder of the class and finally, doubled over I told the teacher that I had to go to the nurse because I had a horrible stomach-ache.

My mother picked me up from the nurse’s office after the teacher told her of my “illness,” and we had a chat about preparedness.

Obviously, being a genius, I never received a “U” again until my freshman year of college.

Today, none of that would have ever happened.  Children in Goopville never receive a grade let alone a percentage!

In September, Michael entered the fourth grade.  Soon thereafter he came home with a math paper that documented how many answers he got correct on a math quiz.


The first time even though I was highly alarmed, I didn’t go to crazy but inquired about why he had done so poorly.

The second time I almost fainted.


” Oh my God! Michael! – What did your teacher say about this?” I demanded as I pulled the paper from his folder.

“I don’t know…nothing.” he shrugged as he searched for a snack.

“Oh my God! This is very bad!” I yelled.  He looked at me nervously shrugging.

I pointed to the horrific score.  “In the real world – this is what is commonly referred to as “failing.” I said gravely.  “And you are bombing out of fourth grade…You’re failing!”

I had to warn Mr. Gaga about this problem before conference week.

“We have a problem,” I warned him as we got into bed.

“What?” he asked dismissively.

“I think Michael is like not good at math or something and now he’s failing fourth grade.” I explained.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Gaga demanded and when I explained about his series of bad grades he was also concerned about the apparent failing of fourth grade that Michael was experiencing.

Normally I would attend parent-teacher conferences alone, but history has proven that I have a hard time hiding my disdain for anything that the teacher is doing that I don’t approve of.  I asked Mr. Gaga to come to the conference to be sure that we communicate properly with the teacher.  Since the common core has come to be –  I often have no fucking clue what anyone’s talking about.…plus I have “bitchy resting face” as a rule and when the teacher shows me a report card that’s filled with smiley faces or meaningless codes, I usually cannot control my facial expressions.




When we arrived at Michael’s conference I addressed my concerns about his failing math grades.

“Oh no!!” the teacher replied cheerfully.  “Michael is right where he should be!”

“But if he’s only getting 39 percent or 54 percent correct, in my world that’s not where anyone should be….” I retorted.

“Oh no, that’s not what it means.” she replied cheerfully, and went on to try to explain to me how getting 39 out of 100 is not an “F.”


But it clearly is….right?

I mean just to be clear….If a person gets 39 answers correct out of 100 am I correct in thinking that this person is not doing well?

If a teacher thinks that getting 39 percent correct is okay – shouldn’t I be alarmed?

Has the common core made everyone stupid? Do the teachers think that failing is ok?

What’s happening?

Is this what happens in China?

She started droning on about the common core and the standardized tests and the timing of the answers and how to go about figuring out multiplication and carrying numbers and tens places and I totally almost blacked out…and finally she was all “so Michael is a math wizard!”

If only I could say what I wanted to say…..




But instead I just smiled and stared at her and said “Ok- great!”

Because I actually didn’t even know what to say anymore.

We went on to discuss the “report card” which in “common core world” is a series of meaningless codes to make the teacher and school look as though they are doing a great job.

In order to show progress they put the letter “P” next to each heading on the report card which stands for “progressing.”  If they put the letter “M” for “mastered” in November then it would look as though they weren’t teaching anybody anything.

I chuckled as I looked through the list of “P’s.”  They were totally inaccurate.

Many line items Michael had “mastered” in first grade – but by this teacher’s standards he was still “progressing.”

For example, Michael who stays up every single night reading for approximately 1-2 hours a night long chapter books such as Harry Potter and Lord of the Flies, received a “P” for “Reads and Comprehends a Range of Texts.”


So the gist of the conference was that even though I thought that he was failing math – he was in fact “right where he should be” and he still needs to work on his reading.

Then my eyes hit the one area that seemed to need improvement.

Next to the line item that said “Exhibits self control” there was a skull and crossbones 

small print that said “I hate you.” 

a number “3″ which signifies that improvement is needed.

“Um…what does this mean?” I asked pointing to the scandalous mark.

“Well Michael is very aggressive.” the teacher said gravely.

“Oh my God! Is he bullying people? Is he beating people up?” I inquired nervously.

“Oh no…he is perfectly respectful and polite in class.  He is very pleasant and cooperative with his classmates and the teachers….” she said calmly.

I exhaled a little, waiting for the punch line.

“But at recess….he likes to play soccer and he’s very, very aggressive.  He wants to win at all costs!” she said seriously.  “He gets very physical and will do anything to win!” she announced gravely.



I just stared at her blankly thinking about what possible reaction she was waiting for.

“So…he wants to win the soccer game that he’s playing in?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, but at any cost…he gets very physical….” she said expectantly.

“Um….we encourage winning.” I said neutrally.

I tried to pretend that I cared.


I am totally going to speak to him about this!


She kept droning on about the importance of safety at recess.  She mentioned how sometimes Michael would be trying to get the soccer ball and someone would fall and that person’s head would be right near the soccer ball! and Michael would kick the ball anyways!! Right next to someone’s head!!




I am not quite sure if Michael is smart or a huge idiot or a kind child or a violent monster.

I guess I will have to find out on my own since no teacher is ever able to relay this information to me.

Once again I have lost an hour that I will never get back.




Birthday Elf Boycott

The other day I was just minding my own business helping my kids pick out books at Barnes and Noble.

As they perused the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid book and some Star Wars Origami books – I looked longingly at the picture book section.   Now that they are both great readers the days of cuddling and reading a stack of picture books to them are far and few between.

Beautiful hardcover books lined the shelves, I gazed wistfully at Don’t let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and The Little Engine that Could, and thought it seemed like just yesterday that we were reading those books.  I looked at the top of the wall where the newer selections were and realized there were a bunch of books that I didn’t even recognize.

And then.

I saw something that made my stomach clench.

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and squeezed them shut and then opened them again -to be sure I was seeing properly.

You motherfuckers.

You greedy motherfuckers.

So a couple of years ago a mother and daughter team,Carol Aebersold and Chanda Bell, came up with this great idea to market the ELF ON THE SHELF at Christmas time.  As a result, they have made millions from this idea while we all run around like fucking assholes hiding a doll in our flour and in our shaving cream.

But now!! These gluttonous bitches have decided that we should also have an elf visit when it’s our child’s birthday.

You don’t actually buy a new elf.  You buy this book (to the tune of $19.99.)  The description reads, “The Elf on the Shelf: A Birthday Tradition tells the little-known story of the North Pole birthday tradition.

Do you know why it’s a “little-known story?” Carol Aebersold and Chanda Bell?

Because you made it up.

If you purchase this moronic book you can read about how your Christmas elf can pay you a visit to wish you “Happy birthday.”

No.  I don't want you to come, you dick.  Stay home and like make toys or something....

No. I don’t want you to come, you dick. Stay home and like make toys or something….

Apparently with the book you get an outfit for the elf as he is wearing a cone hat and a cupcake when he arrives.

Fuck you Elf. Take your cupcake tutu and go back where you came from.

Fuck you Elf. Take your cupcake tutu and stay the hell out of here until December.

So it’s not enough that these bitches have single-handedly ruined the joys of preparing for Christmas.  It’s not enough that we have to wake up in a cold sweat night after December night – realizing that we forgot to hide the dumb elf.

We have played your reindeer games and you have made a fortune off of us.  You dangled that little carrot and said “Buy this elf at Christmas and watch the joy and magic that your children will enjoy!” And because we are a generation of parents that will do anything – ANYTHING to make these brats happy – we played along.

But that’s not enough for you money hungry twats.

Now they want to ruin birthdays too!!  You want a piece of the action on birthdays now?

Haha! We are rich and you are poor!! Have fun hiding that doll you imbeciles!!

Here are the authors at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.  I think they are saying  “Haha! We are very rich and you are very poor and stupid. Have fun hiding that doll every night for the next month you imbeciles! “

I hope to God that nobody is buying this birthday book.

I hope to God that at some point that we will all come to our senses and say “enough is enough.”

We do too much for these kids as it is for birthdays, and I include myself in the category of excessive over-the-top birthday parties fueled by Pinterest overload.

We have to stop this overindulgence.

December is just around the corner.

One month is enough for this messy, annoying, pole-dancing, flour-angel making, lazy piece of shit.

Please join me in boycotting the “Birthday Elf.”


The Sleepover

Nothing good can come of this little tradition.

I remember my first sleepover like it was yesterday.  My best friend in fifth grade invited me.  We set up our sleeping bags in the basement, her Dad gave us bowls of Doritos and Cheetos and cups of soda, and then he pressed play on the VCR.

Nightmare on Elm Street played.  I tried to keep my composure while people’s bodies were ripped to shreds.

Watching Johnny Depp get murdered and turned into a bloody geyser was not really my cup of tea ...

Watching Johnny Depp get murdered and turned into a bloody geyser was not really my cup of tea …

When it was time to go to sleep I cried and my father had to come pick me up.

After a few tries I got the hang of it but I never really loved it.  People’s houses had litter boxes that smelled, and dog hair all over their couches, sometimes my friend would have a mean older sibling or a scary parent.  Sometimes dinner would be something disgusting that I couldn’t possibly eat and sometimes I forgot my pillow or needed a blanket and the choices presented were not to my standards.

Later, I learned to ignore all of that in order to enjoy the perks of the sleepover.  Most of my friend’s parents didn’t care what we did  were not home at the time    were out to dinner a lot    where the fuck were the parents? were not as strict as mine.  The perks of the sleepovers included drinking gin from my friend’s mother’s liquor cabinet, inviting boys over, sneaking out, and never sleeping because we were calling boys on a private phone line that was installed in mine and all of my friends’ bedrooms.

"You hang up..." "No - you hang up.."

“You hang up…”
“No – you hang up..”

One time I slept at a friend’s house and we ended up in a room over her garage drinking Purple Passion and calling boys to come over.  A boy who I had been in love with since he moved to my street in the fourth grade agreed to come with some of his friends. While we waited for their arrival we laughed so hard at something that I peed in my pants.

When he finally showed up ready to make out – I had to remain aloof and seated at all times for fear that he would realize that my pants were completely soaked.

Tastes like grape soda going down - but shortly thereafter your life will be ruined and you will be vomiting like never before....

DAMN YOU PURPLE PASSION! Tastes like grape soda going down – but shortly thereafter your life will be ruined and you will be vomiting and pissing your pants  like never before….

This weekend Sam’s friends (2nd graders) were having a Halloween night sleepover and didn’t invite him.  Although I was heartbroken for him while he tried to hold back tears, I was secretly relieved to not have the dilemma of having to send him or not.   “Well – we had plans to see your cousins after trick-treating,” I reasoned with him about the sleepover.

“I could have seen my cousins and you could have dropped me off for the sleepover!” he said.

“Well – you would be tired Sam – and probably nervous to sleep away from your mother! You don’t want to sleep away from your mother do you?”

I peered into his soul and willed him to agree that he could never lay his head down on a strange pillow miles away from his loving mother.

“Well…..I love you but……..I wouldn’t mind.” he answered softly.

It was as though someone had shot me with a gun directly into my heart....

It was as though someone had shot me with a gun directly into my heart….

He wouldn’t mind???

He must not know the perils of sleeping over someone’s house!!  There could be processed foods filled with red dye and high fructose corn syrup!! There could be soda!! There could be Freddy Krueger and old stale gin!


He must not have seen the episode of Beverly Hills 90210 when sweet innocent Midwestern Brenda Walsh invited Kelly and Donna for a sleepover and and Kelly’s edgy friend Amanda was there and made everyone play “Skeletons in the Closet.” Kelly ended up talking about getting raped and by the end of the sleepover they all realized that Amanda was addicted to diet pills!

Does that sound fun?? I don’t think so.

Sam doesn’t know how easy it is to be mean at sleepovers. He wouldn’t feel comfortable being in an environment where everyone is trashing someone else. For some reason it’s just so easy to prey on a weak and helpless person at a sleepover and spend the night cruelly making fun of them.


Sam must not realize that sometimes when you think there is going to be sleep involved at said “sleep-over” it’s just a cover for a secret adventure.

Sometimes when someone says “Bring a sleeping bag and we will sleep outside in my back yard.” in fact they don’t intend to let you sleep in their backyard at all.

Do these boys look like they are sleeping to you? Nope - they are searching through the woods for a dead body.

Do these boys look like they are sleeping to you? Nope – they are just carrying their sleeping bags while they search through the woods for a dead body.

I don’t want to let my children sleep without me!!

Really nothing important or good comes of sleeping in someone else’s home.  Let’s face it.

The sleepover is never really safe.  It will always be loaded with fears and anxieties.

Even as adults, there are drawers involved for your toothbrush and personal items and certain protocols that have to happen.  Going home after the sleepover can be akward and sad…..

They don’t call going home after an adult sleepover “The walk of shame” for nothing people.


Let’s just nip this all in the bud right now.

I am not letting my children sleep away from me until they are 21 years old.

If anyone is looking for the Gaga’s – we will be home in our own beds....where we belong!!!






I am guilty of falling prey to the pressures of Pinterest.

I clearly went overboard for Michael’s Halloween party.

But there were certainly a lot of Halloween crafts and ideas that I found that I DID NOT APPROVE OF!!!

This is a reblog from last season- Enjoy!!


I remember when I was little on Halloween night, my father coming home from work a little bit earlier than usual and diligently carving a jack o’lantern for us.

He would work very hard and he would set aside all of the pulp and the pumpkin seeds so that my mother could toast them for later.

When he was done we would turn off the lights and marvel at how amazing and cool our pumpkin looked.

No matter what...this is waht it looked like.... Every. Year.

No matter what…this is what it looked like….

We would then go trick or treating with an old pillowcase and that was the extent of it.

We were thrilled.

Nowadays (like everything else) Halloween has turned into something that we can agonize over.

My Dad’s jack o’lantern would never live up to today’s standards.

Imagine pinning a picture of that on Pinterest??


No way!

A regular old Jack O’Lantern with triangle eyes and nose?

That’s for amateurs….

Today’s pumpkin designers have many different ways to show off their skills….

Of course there’s the obligatory moustache pumpkin…

Um, who was the genius that decided that everything with a moustache was cool??

Um, by the way who was the genius that decided that everything with a moustache was cool??

If you have actually experienced a moustache you would know that there is truly nothing cute or cool about it…..

Then of course since we let our children have pacifiers until they are 6, we might as well give them to our pumpkins as well….


I realized today as I walked down the Target aisles and was on Pinterest…Halloween is the new competition sport for moms.

Today’s pumpkins have become the latest tool in a mother’s race to show off how crafty and superior she is.


Not only is this mother craftier than you, she has taken it upon herself to turn her pumpkin into a learning tool as well….beat that bitches.

And if that doesn’t take up enough time out of your day, you can start on your next project that will only require you to handpaint ten pumpkins….


Once you have taken care of the outside pumpkins you can move indoors where you can design fancy indoor pumpkins that will take everyone’s breath away…


Nowadays it is totally normal to spend your days writing cryptic messages with a calligraphy pen on a white pumpkin….

When you are done decorating all of your pumpkins, maybe then you can focus what little time and energy you have left to other Halloween festivities….like making your own candy corn!

Why would you just go out and a buy a bag of candy corn for 99 cents when you can spend two solid days making your own?

Why would you just go out and a buy a bag of candy corn for 99 cents when you can spend two solid days making your own?

I have said it many times and I will say it again.

Who the fuck has this kind of time?

I have tried to imagine how I would feel if I had endless time on my hands with nothing to do.

Would I actually want to make weird pumpkins and homemade candy corn??

Maybe someday it will happen.

Maybe someday Mr. Gaga will come home after a long day’s work and walk in the door and see lots of ornate pumpkins and Halloween decor.

Hanging from the door frame right at eye level when he enters the house will be….


This is a tampon fashioned into a ghost.

There’s nothing left to say, except that this tampon ghost is definitely by far the scariest Halloween decoration I could ever imagine.

What is this world coming to??





Top Ways for Moms to Prevent Ebola in their Family

Let’s face it – we need to take this Ebola outbreak seriously.

It’s in NYC for God sakes…the ways this can spread are endless.

As a mother I have especially been noticing some precarious situations that we put ourselves in that could potentially find us in the local Ebola Ward.

I want to share – so we can all be a little more careful:




Or the Thomas the Train table or any table that small children crowd around and touch and lick various objects on said table.  I remember when Michael and Sam were little every single time they even looked at one of those tables at the book store or library they would instantly come down with croup, “hand foot and mouth disease” or a stomach bug.

Apparently Ebola makes the stomach bug look like a walk in the park.

So apparently you will be bleeding from the inside and the outside while simultaneously vomiting and having diarhea....

So apparently you will be bleeding from the inside and the outside while simultaneously vomiting and having diarrhea and the hiccups – think about that before you let your kid reach for that Lego.


I am a big fan of the staycation – which many people fault me for.  People think that being well-traveled is important. People think it is very important to see the world and learn about other cultures and lands.

They feel it necessary to pack up their belongings into little teeny vials that are deemed acceptable by the TSA, get groped and endure cavity searches and whatever else it takes to get onto the plane, and then sit in an enclosed space that could potentially be filled with SARS, Bird Flu, Stomach Bug, and now EBOLA.

Jet-setters seem to believe that traveling to their various destinations and their adventures around the world are very important.

Do you know what I think is important?

Not bleeding from my eyeballs.

Stay home people.


This is where both housewives and working mothers across the nation will rejoice!!

If you are both working outside of the home, did you ever think that you or your husband could be contracting Ebola on business travels?  Did you ever think that if you are out in the world working and interacting with people, touching filthy desks and computers and trains that you could be contracting Ebola yourself?

What if you are a stay-at-home mom?  Are you taking the children out to filthy grocery stores and touching slimy germ-infested grocery carts?  Are you paying for things via credit or debit and touching the virus filled key pad on the credit card swiper thingy??  Or are you paying with cash that was just yesterday in someone else’s wallet or pocket or bra??

These scenarios are endless and because the best way to contract Ebola is through bodily fluids, I think it is an obvious choice when I say – It’s best to not have sex with your husband until this whole thing dies down.

I know a few of you  one person  zero women  many of you will be devastated by this!!!

But I have learned over time that women in America are very resourceful when it comes to this matter.  We saw that first hand with the widespread enjoyment of FIFTY SHADES OF GREY and the sexual fulfillment that you all were able to supply to yourself, minus your husband.

Bullet users rejoice!


Speaking of weird fantasies – I never understood everyone’s fascination with zombies and vampires.

Apparently if you are going to have a crush on someone – this is finally when your bizarre obsession with a zombie will finally seem appropriate – because since they are already dead – I am fairly certain they cannot get or spread Ebola!!

Also this vampire obsession that women have between True Blood and the Twilight series finally makes sense!!

Once you determine his eyeballs are not bleeding from the Ebola virus and that he actually cannot be killed - he does seem pretty sexy!!

Once you determine his eyeballs are not bleeding from the Ebola virus and that he actually cannot be killed – he does seem pretty sexy!!



All the sticking hands into dirty bowls of candy and trying on each other’s sweaty masks and hats that are filled with steamy breathe and snots…..It’s enough to just hide inside in a HAZMAT suit.

The children have to be able to enjoy the Halloween traditions somewhat but definitely skip “bobbing for apples” and the “donut on a string” game we played at Michael’s party was a recipe for disaster now that I look back on it.

Regular trick-or-treating can be fine – as long as you go through the candy.  Be sure to throw out anything that looks as though it could have been homemade or that someone packaged themselves!!

If you get any of these "Ebola Balls" or loose candy corns .....throw them directly into the nearest garbage!!

If you get any of these “Ebola Balls” or loose candy corns …..throw them directly into the nearest garbage!!



I thought of this today as I brought my children to the pumpkin patch and let them enjoy the “corn pit.” 

Ordinarily we enjoy the corn pit - but today all I could think of was the potential for us all to die.

Ordinarily we enjoy the corn pit – but today all I could think of was the potential for us all to die.

It’s obvious to me and most individuals that enjoy their health and wellness that one should stay away from pits of doom and despair that you would find at McDonald’s and Chuck E. Cheese.  The same goes for slimy bounce houses that besides potentially blowing away at any minute – are also filled with Ebola and Ebola-like viruses.

However, many mothers willingly bring their children to these filthy disgusting establishments.  When you go to Chuck E. Cheese or bouncy house facilities just know that they are filled to the brim with sweating, screaming rotten children that are bleeding from their eyeballs  that could potentially have a serious illness!!

Please remember that Ebola can fester in your body for up to 21 days before symptoms appear.

Think of that the next time you toss your kids into something like this:




It’s not worth it.  These hospitals are just filled with diseases and Ebola-filled healthcare workers.

Whatever illness you think you have – (as long as you are sure it’s not Ebola of course) stay away from the hospital.

This is a place that used to be where you could safely go to be cured of ailments – now it has become a place filled with germ spreading.  You could go in with a papercut and come out with a fatal illness.

Take Airborne everyday and if you start to develop any respiratory issues just start chugging Robitussin.

Stomach issues? Take Pepto Bismal and Tums.

Most allergic reactions can be cured with Benadryl.

Migraine? Take some Advil and go to bed.

You broke your leg?  Eat boron tablets.

There’s a natural remedy for everything.

Your giving birth??  Grab your yoga mat and bring it to the nearest stream and squat.

Even though I have made fun of home births in the past – I think now I have to eat my words.

I think it is actually probably safer at this point to give birth on a rock somewhere.


Now this woman is clearly insane - but she might not be as dumb as she looks.  She surely won't catch ebola in a swamp filled with rocks.

Now this woman is clearly insane – but she might not be as dumb as she looks.                                                       She surely won’t catch Ebola in a swamp filled with rocks.


I hope this helps.

Maybe if we all think twice before we do germ-spreading activities we will be safe and healthy.




Michael had requested a Halloween party for his birthday.   After torturing me night after night after he accidentally saw the Annabelle trailer, I was on the fence about it.

He assured me that he would not be scared, so we went for it.

All of the parents were warned that this would be a haunted party.  I asked them to each tell me a secret about their child and we had a gypsy come armed with secrets, looking into her crystal ball on the back porch.


They each went in one by one and came out completely shocked and wide-eyed, asking aloud how she could possibly know what she knew about them.

While the kids were talking to the gypsy – I had to think of activities to keep the other 14 children occupied.

I looked up Halloween party games – and “bobbing for apples” came up a lot.

The thought of a bunch of filthy Ebola-virus ridden children sticking their mouths in a barrel of water and then licking and biting at apples seemed like a bad idea.

I settled on another old-fashioned game called “donut-on-a-string.”

The kids compete to see who can eat their donut first with their hands behind their backs...

The kids compete to see who can eat their donut first with their hands behind their backs… instead of Ebola-laced apples, the donuts seemed like a safer bet.

Kids also had the chance to stick their hands into different boxes that had different “body parts” in them.

We had a box of “warm human blood” (Hunt’s tomato sauce heated up to be lukewarm) and a “human heart” (peeled beefsteak tomato.)


The scabs were bacon bits and the eyeballs were large pimento olives…

We served pizza and cupcakes….


And cake…


One of the kids looked at the cake gravely and said “Someone got murdered on this cake!”

Once it got dark it was time for a scary walking tour of the neighborhood.

Mr. Gaga and I had elaborate plans to walk the children around the neighborhood telling scary stories.  We enlisted help from others so that they could jump out at just the right time and scare the children.

I had casually told people of my plans ahead of time and got very horrified reactions.

Several people thought we were sadistic.  Several people suggested that we tone it down because the kids would have nightmares.

The final reaction that convinced me that we had to do this is when a co-worker said “None of these kids will ever want to come to your house for a playdate!”

It was then we decided to definitely move forward with our plans of torture.

We just so happen to have two empty houses on our street so we made up scary stories as to why they were abandoned due to hauntings and murders.  We had placed body parts around the yards and asked the kids to collect them.

In one backyard we set up an old mattress with bloody sheets on it and told a story of a girl who haunted the bed.  As the kids inched towards the bed carefully, a ghoulish woman covered in blood popped up from the sheets and started moaning.

Next stop was our neighbor’s garden which we explained was haunted and filled with dead animals.  We said we often hear yelling and moaning coming from the garden – as the kids listened – our neighbor started moaning from the dark garden.  He suddenly popped out with a hockey mask and an axe and chased the kids.  They all screamed bloody murder and ran down the driveway.

The last stop was at the end of our street where we talked about a young man who had once been on his motorcycle trying to outrun the police.  He had driven his motorcycle down our street and straight into the woods but never came out.   The police searched everywhere for him and he never turned up.   Rumor has it he is still in the woods driving his motorcycle.  Mr. Gaga said sometimes you can hear him at night.  He said if we are all very quiet we can hear him.  Everyone stood breathlessly trying to listen and we heard the faint sound of a motorcycle.  As it started to get louder and louder, the children were getting very agitated.  Just then Mr. Gaga’s friend rounded the corner and came straight at us dressed as a zombie on a motorcycle.

I have never seen children scream and run so fast.


Right at that point it was time for pick up!! The party was over.

It was time to throw back a few apple martinis.

Michael is officially nine and none of his friends will be coming over again anytime soon….life is good.

Mr. Gaga says this is the last time I am allowed to have a birthday party at home – for fear that we will end up divorced due to the intense planning that goes on leading up to these parties.

Mr. Gaga says I am crazy.

I blame Pinterest.






Pregos Say the Darndest things….

I have had a few youngsters around me lately that are pregnant for the first time.

They just are so innocent and cute with their hopeful and sweet love for their unborn child.

They are so clueless as to what is about to happen to their life so they say some hilarious shit.

Sometimes I correct them.

Sometimes I just don’t say anything and nod my head in agreement.

Sometimes I just have a little laugh at their expense.


And sometimes I just cannot believe how little they know…..

So I laugh maniacally:


But just remember Pregos!! While I might laugh at you and your Bugaboo strollers and your “Gender Reveal Parties” and your all-over dazed and confused stares – I ALWAYS warn you!!!!

Now here’s my Top 5 Hilarious things that Pregnant people say:

#1 – “I’m only crying because I am hormonal – I will be better once I have the baby.”


That’s not accurate at all.

Think about the tears that you have shed over the course of the nine and half months of pregnancy.

Multiply that number of tears by 500 and smoosh all of that water into about 6 months.

That’s what lies ahead – my pregnant little angels.

Your hormones are still crazy after you have the baby and you can add to that the smell of poop, bloody engorged boobs, a fat stomach that has no baby in it, shrill screaming in the middle of the night and a nightly average of 5 hours of sleep.

The crying will continue and it will be deep sobbing to the depths of your soul.  Be ready for it.

#2 – “I only hate my husband right now because I am pregnant and hormonal, I will love him again after I have the baby.”


The hatred will become much worse.

Before you got pregnant – you likely would look over at your husband in bed and see this:

david beckham

So you are probably unaccustomed to any bad feelings towards your significant other…

But be warned that as soon as you give birth – when you look over in bed at your husband you will now see the same exact human being – but instead of looking like David Beckham – all you will see is this:


You will quickly assume the role of the mother which will include but not be limited to: caring for the child’s eating and burping needs, caring for the child’s private parts with various ointments, wipes and gauze strips, caring for the child’s comfort and sleeping needs, swaddling and clothing the child, among other household duties and entertaining and being nice to visitors.

During all of this you will look over at your husband who at one point you may of thought of as your knight in shining armor and you will see a stupid, useless, vapid creature who you want to murder in the night.  You will consider different ways you can murder him.  You will be up at night breastfeeding and you will see him drooling into his pillow and you will want to smother him.

You won’t do it.

In time you will probably like him again.

But please know that the hatred is far from over.

#3 – “I am going to breastfeed so I can lose weight.”

I mean apparently this can in fact work for Gisele and other women who are good at starving themselves to death.  Your body burns like 5000 calories via breastfeeding so your hunger becomes worse than ever.  In addition, you need to be sure to eat and drink certain things to create superior breastmilk – so it’s quite difficult to have breastfeeding take the place of Weight Watchers.

Breastfeeding is impossible as it is.  Breastfeeding AND starving yourself???  Don’t set yourself up for failure.

#4 – “I need a wipe warmer because I don’t want my baby’s butt to get cold!”

I mean – there are those that have said that I am a horrible person and mother -so maybe that’s why I never felt this maternal instinct to protect my children’s buttocks from mysterious winds indoors.

When children are screaming and crying and covered with piss and diarhea and it’s 3 AM – I never really gave two flying shits about the windchill near their assholes.

The rest of their life they will be sitting down on cold toilet seats.

I think it best that they learn about the harsh realities of life right from the get-go.

When your ass is out of it’s diaper, cold winds blow by and might cause a chill on your anus.

Isn’t that what life’s all about?

#5 – I heard that breastfeeding hurts…is that true?”

Um… I think the word “hurt” is an insult to breastfeeders across the land.

I don’t know, imagine taking your boob and touching the sun with it….


Then imagine immediately going back to earth, lying down in the street and sticking your boob on the pavement and a yellow schoolbus, filled with tons of rotten children, drives over your boob…..

boob bus

and then imagine you sit up quickly and someone at that very moment shoots a gun and the bullet goes right through your nipple.


That’s basically what it feels like.

Then like 40 minutes later – you have to do that whole thing over again.

It doesn’t just hurt.  It’s a searing pain that goes into the innermost layers of your being and for like 20 seconds you think you might actually die.  But once the baby latches on – it’s totally fine!  You will totally love it!

The important thing is to stay positive!!!

One day you will look back at all of this and laugh!!!





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