RSS Feed

No Thanks Geraldine…No thanks.

Some of you are not going to like this.

My mother’s generation fought for the rights of women.

I grew up feeling powerful and equal as a result.  I watched Geraldine Ferraro running for President of the United States and I believed that I could grow up and be anything and anyone.

I was a bright child and once I realized that, I was certain that the world was my oyster.

Well, my oyster definitely did not include grocery shopping and playdates….and fast forward a decade or two.  Looks like the joke’s on me.

Does this look like a fun oyster to you???

Does this look like a fun oyster to you???

I never ran for president.

I never even tried to climb a corporate ladder.

I just worked and did what I wanted to do and then I married Mr. Gaga and then I had kids.

And now that I work sometimes part-time and sometimes full-time, I have realized that this working thing….this “let’s be equals thing”….it’s not all that.

You cannot do it all.

Something has to give.

It is nearly impossible to find balance and satisfy yourself, your family, your husband AND empty the dishwasher.

There are just not enough hours in the day.

I mean is staying home and doing nothing so bad?

And let me just tell you what suffers when you are a working woman:

#1 – SLEEP

When you work and maintain a household – sleep is the first thing to go.  When I think back when I was home with the kids not working, I remember struggling to get the kids to preschool by 9:00 AM!!!  I also recall luxurious afternoons of napping and reading a magazine on the couch.

When I am working, I have to set an alarm to wake up before the kids in order to get shit done.  Then after they go to bed at night I have a million things to do that I couldn’t accomplish during the day.  I end up going to bed at midnight.  My undereye circles are darkening more and more each day.  I look horrible and feel horrible.

Thanks a lot women’s libbers.

While Geraldine Ferraro was doing great things for women - her undereye area took a real beating...

While Geraldine Ferraro was doing great things for women – her undereye area took a real beating…


So I have a choice each morning.

I can wake up early, get the kids ready for school, and pack a bag for the gym which includes work clothes, and hair and makeup supplies.  I can speed to the gym, get in a quick workout, shower at the gym and rush to work never looking quite right, with sweat still glistening on my brow.

Or I can stay home, throw in some laundry, clean up the breakfast dishes, empty the dishwasher, pick up Mr. Gaga’s dry-cleaning, etc.

If I choose the house maintenance this adds to my muffin top growth, yet if I don’t- Mr. Gaga threatens to wear my thong underwear to work.

It’s a real catch-22.

If you wait to work out when you get home from work, then you have to really be organized about dinner and after school activities and be sure that your husband will be home so that you can scramble to your class at the gym and then you miss dinner with your family so you feel guilty about that, and then when you get home you’re met with a sink full of dishes and nobody has done their homework.

So most times you will just come home from work and say “Fuck this shit.” aloud to anyone who’s listening and pour yourself some wine – which also perpetuates the muffin top.

So it’s a never-ending cycle of fat and doom.


Mr. Gaga will be the first to tell you that I suck at laundry.

But I do understand and appreciate the importance of clean clothes.

I might be able to throw some laundry into the washer and it might get into the dryer before it starts smelling like mildew – but if I am working – then that’s where the laundering ends.

This morning, when I was digging throw the clean clothes trying to find Sam’s football uniform, I thought to myself – I really have to fold these clothes tonight after a long day of work…(on a Sunday.)  I felt a pang of guilt and shame that I would let the laundry get to this point.

It's clean!! Just very wrinkled and piled up to the ceiling,,,,

It’s clean!! Just very wrinkled and piled up to the ceiling.

After breakfast, I came upstairs to get ready for work and caught Mr. Gaga looking for socks.

He just rummages through shit - with no thoughts of shame or guilt...

He just rummages through shit – with no thoughts of shame or guilt…


I may or may not have to go to the bathroom sometimes.  When that occasion arises it is imperative that nobody is home and I have peace and tranquility.  Well if you have to get ready for work, and go to the gym in a hurried frenzy or run errands quickly before arriving at your place of employment  – there’s no peace, there’s no tranquility and there’s quite frankly no time.

Now the choice is do you perform human bodily functions at your place of employment?

No way.

So then by the time you get home from work and do everything that needs doing – often you have missed your window of opportunity.

That’s right.

I said it.

Working women are constipated.

So now we are fat AND bloated.


So between the working and the child rearing and the “having it all” – who the fuck has time for the grocery shopping?

Not me.

Not anybody.

Please refer back to #1 – WORKING MAKES YOU FAT.

There’s just no time for grocery shopping at all – let alone healthy choices and proper meal planning.  Sometimes if I forgo the gym I will actually make dinner in the morning!! before work.

Or sometimes after a long day of work – you can find me blindly throwing shit into my cart in a frantic race to get home, making bad choices and growing my muffin-top.


Sometimes if I am really tired, I use a grocery store motorized shopping cart….

And guess what’s another option when you are bleary-eyed and beaten down by “the man?”

So maybe my kids throw the apple slices out the window and we ask for a chocolate milk instead of regular I mean how bad is it really??

So maybe my kids throw the apple slices out the window and we ask for a chocolate milk instead of regular, but I mean how bad is it really??


Who has time for a manicure or pedicure when you are working?

How about time to cover up gray roots that make you look like your 65 years old?

There’s NO time for any sort of grooming or maintenance when you have children, and a household and work.  Suddenly before you know it – you look like Grizzly Adams.


When you are a stay-at-home mom – you have time to look at yourself in the mirror and realize that your beard and moustache are rivaling the stars of Duck Dynasty.

You also have time to address any other private hair removals that might need tending to.

A friend told me recently that she no longer had time for her bikini wax due to her busy work schedule.

“I have a huge bush right now!!” she said with disgust, “If anyone ever asks me what the huge bulge in my pants is – I will have to say ‘I am a working woman!”

Looks like working women everywhere have this problem!

Looks like working women everywhere have this problem!  Is this what Geraldine envisioned for the White House?

In closing – I know some of you might feel like this post is setting back women.

You might think that I am thinking of trivial and vain matters like moustache removal and laundry folding, when there are important topics to discuss as women.

I don’t care.

I am a woman, and sometimes a little femininity doesn’t hurt.  Sometimes it’s nice to look good and feel good and take a fucking nap.  There’s a reason why Donna Reed didn’t have a beard and an abdomen filled with poop.

She didn’t fucking work.

Sometimes I think we should all consider what we have given up.


I said it.




True Colors Revealed

There are many things about modern-day motherhood that I don’t enjoy.

I started this blog because I was sick of everyone pretending that everything about having a baby was all rosy and delightful.  I was sick of seeing mothers post how “blessed” they were every two seconds on Facebook.

I was sick of people saying “I love being pregnant!” and “I gave birth in my bathtub and it was amazing!

When women get pregnant for the first time they feel very pressured to enjoy all of the maternal joys of pregnancy, and go into this whole motherhood thing expecting an instant bond with their baby and a feeling of bliss.  When that doesn’t happen – they feel like failures and often spiral into a deep depression.

I blame all of those twats who never mention anything truthful for this.  They don’t want to mention anything unpleasant for fear of admitting to us and themselves that they are not perfect.

Now in a new twist of horror – these unknowing mothers-to-be are so excited! to be having a baby! that they are doing photoshoots, cards, and social media announcements to let the world know about the gender of their child.

This momentous occasion that used to just be an ultrasound tech telling you whether they saw a dick or not at your check-up is now dubbed the “gender reveal.”

I really cannot tell you how I want to murder these idiots.

First of all, I just look at them and think -“These morons have no clue what they are in for.”

Pregnant woman with husband playing to be pregnant

Ok dude – you are totally NOT pregnant and putting a throw pillow under your shirt is not cute – you look like a huge douche.


Instead of doing some assholic photoshoot they should be enjoying their baby-free days.  These poor people don’t understand the value of a little something called “FREE TIME.”

You have time to take pictures holding pink balloons and pretending that your husband is pregnant?

How about you run for your life to the mall – a place that you will never go to again without a stroller and a screaming child.

Or how about a little something called a nap? Because you can pretty much kiss those goodbye for approximately 18 years.

Nope, these jerk-offs will just waste money and time hiring fancy photographers to capture this special announcement in all types of clever ways.

Look at these two asshats….

Go inside and watch a fucking movie and take a nap!!! You are going to be doing pinatas for the next eight years!!

Go inside and watch a fucking movie and take a nap!!! You are going to be doing pinatas for the next eight years!!


And what is up with these husbands? Why are they going along with this?  Does the guy in the pinata picture have a bandana on around his neck??  Mr. Gaga saw this and said “That guy should forget the photoshoots and try to have some sex…because he’s not going to have any of that for a while….”

It is all very absurd and embarrassing -but on top of that, it’s an all-time low for narcissists.

I mean do people think that we care that much about the gender of their baby??

The nerve of them.

Filling up my Facebook feed and my mailbox with this bullshit!!

Do you think that because you are having a newborn child that has the necessary chromosomal makeup to make him a male – that warrants you gluing a huge brown mustache to your walls?

To top it off you shall stand next to said “wall mustache” holding a little stick with a little miniature black mustache on it – placed over your belly carefully implying that your newborn baby is such a male that he has a mustache??

Get a fucking hold of yourselves people.

Oh your little cute embroyo is the size of a pomegranate??                   I don't know how to tell you this....NOBODY  FUCKING CARES!

Oh your little cute embryo is the size of a pomegranate?? I don’t know how to tell you this….Nobody fucking cares.


Some of this stuff is just plain offensive.  I mean it’s actually a small newborn innocent child and I am sure he or she would not the world talking about his or her privates.

So you want your friends and family to pretend that their huge finger is your newborn child's penis?

So you want your friends and family to pretend that their huge finger is your newborn child’s penis? You are a sick puppy.


And then there’s the masochists.  These people just have no clue how torturous their life will be so they do stupid shit that makes a huge mess.  Little do they know they will not have clean clothing or surfaces of any kind for years to come.  They don’t know that they will be on their hands and knees scrubbing floors and tubs and wiping up vomit and diarrhea everyday – so they think they are very hip and cute when they destroy their clothing with a special photo session called a “gender reveal paint fight.”

During this photo sesh – the couple throw paint at each other in the color depicting the gender of the baby while the photographer clicks away – capturing this special moment.

Look at these two dicks…







For the love of Jesus – what the fuck is wrong with everyone? Has everyone just lost their minds entirely?

I just cannot imagine telling Mr. Gaga that I was going to go in the back yard and douse him with paint while I paid a photographer to take his picture.  After splattering his face with paint – I would rub my huge pasty fat body on him and then request that he put his hands into the shape of a heart on my belly.  And then SURPRISE! GENDER REVEAL! I would post the pictures on Facebook for all of the world to see.

That would be called in the Gaga household a little event called “DIVORCE PAPERS REVEAL.”

I cannot urge you pregnant social media mavens enough.  Put down the paintbrushes and the pinata sticks and the cameras.

Enjoy your pregnancy as much as possible.  Do not waste ANY time!!

In a few short months – life as you know it will be forever changed, and you will look back and wish that you had that hour back that you spent splattering your husband with paint.

Go to the movies.

Get a massage.

Go to dinner.

Take a long walk.

Anything is better than posting on Facebook an embarrassing picture of you and your significant other.


You fucking assholes.....

You fucking assholes…..

Well - I have whipped cream and what looks like a period on my face...It's a GIRL!!!!

Well – I have whipped cream and what looks like a period on my face…It’s a GIRL!!!!






I have to reblog this each fall because it is my most read post of all time and because I already want to drop kick these Pottery Barn lunch boxes over the nearest cliff……Could it be possible that it’s not even mid-September and I am already sick of making my children lunch?


When I was very young, my mother decided that I was quite independent and capable.

Upon discovering my love of “doing things myself,” she rearranged her kitchen cabinets and moved all of the cereal to the lowest cabinet. She taught me how to pour milk and make a sandwich for lunch. Once the basic survival skills were mastered she informed me and my brother that she would no longer be available in the mornings.

From that point on, we were responsible for getting ourselves up in the morning, getting dressed and ready for school, making breakfast and making ourselves lunch, and getting to the bus stop on time. To our credit (and hers) we managed to do this pretty much without incident. We never missed the bus and I don’t remember feeling neglected or abandoned in any way, even though the very first cereal I remember preparing for myself looked like this….

Fast forward to modern times when I have my own children and I have spent countless hours up at the crack of dawn preparing meals and snacks. Reflecting back on that time – it seems just a bit outrageous.

It’s a topic of conversation that she doesn’t enjoy, yet my brother and I bring it up constantly. It usually goes like this….

“Mom – remember when you announced that you were never waking up again – and we had to make our own lunch?”

She usually rolls her eyes…..”Oh – like you had such a bad life? I think you’re fine.”

“Yes – I’m fine – but it was little ridiculous that you weren’t up with us…”

“Oh, poor you…yes – you had it sooo bad. Did you have a good life? Did your father and I send you to college and give you a nice wedding?”

“Mom – that’s not the point – I am just saying – it was crazy to expect us to do everything by ourselves….we were like 2.”

“I was helping you to become more independent…..Like it’s so hard to pour a bowl of cereal?”

“Well it’s not – but when you are 4-years-old the gallon of milk is a little bit heavy.”

Usually it’s by this point in the conversation that she has left the room or hung up on me.

While I do think her morning routine was completely unacceptable, I am secretly envious of her 1970’s “laid back” parenting style.

Imagine just simply not waking up in the morning and sleeping in with no worries about what your children will wear, eat for breakfast or eat for lunch? How luxurious!

While I know that those days of parenting are long gone – never to return, I received full confirmation this week when I opened my Pottery Barn Kids Fall Gear 2012 Catalogue.

To start off I should have known I was in trouble when the catalogue started off with a picture of a preschooler carrying a backpack.

The “Pottery Barn people” must have really brain-stormed to come up with an image of a child that everyone could relate to.

It was only logical that they decided on a photo of a small child carrying 250 pounds of school supplies in a bag that is as big as he is, outside on the grounds of what appears to be……Harvard?

Oh yeah – and of course his name is Penn…What else would it be? And I am sure we could all agree that yellow suede loafers are the obvious choice for 4-year-old boys.

OK – so on to the lunch bag section of the catalogue. Of course modern-day parenting dictates that all snacks and lunches must be presented to children in fancy canvas totes with their names on it in bold text accompanied by an image of Darth Vader or Spider Man.

Gone are the days of the brown paper lunch bag.

Also, in the classic style of Pottery Barn, who historically since its inception seemed to make its mission as a company to make housewives and mothers feel badly about the state of things in their home……the “Pottery Barn People” have presented their impression of what a child’s lunch should look like.

Apparently their idea of a “lunch” drastically differs from mine.

Is this what my kids are supposed to see when they open their fancy lunch tote with 55 zippers and compartments?

Because that will never happen….

Please note that the sandwich has been fashioned into some sort of exotic daisy and a dipping sauce has been made available as part of Blair’s very balanced meal….If the other kindergarteners had any doubts if Blair’s mother loved her – I think it will be very clear now……

So … I am thinking I’m a great mother because I sometimes heat up Progresso soup in the morning and put it into a Batman thermos for Michael.

Once again – I am wrong. I am not mother of the year – in fact I might be the worst mother in America – according to Pottery Barn Kids.

As I kept reading – it became clear that I am, as I suspected, a very, very bad mother. I might as well just stay in bed like my mother…..because I have not once shaped sandwiches into a tic tac toe game smartly utilizing carrot shreds and pieces of grapes.

In the town where I grew up – If I ever opened up a lunch to reveal a tic tac toe game made out of sandwiches, I would get my ass kicked and my new name would be “Tic Tac” until I graduated highschool…..

Just when I was about to throw the catalogue in the garbage something caught my eye.

Wait – could this be true?

I know that good mothers are ones that send in little notes with their children’s lunch. I have been known to even send a note here or there.

But could it be possible that Pottery Barn Kids is SELLING IN THEIR CATALOGUE, something called “Lunch Box Love Notes.”

So – if you are too lazy or dumb to write out your own note to your child – no worries!! Pottery Barn has done it for you!!!

Thank you Mom for sleeping the day away and never sending me to school with a miniature sandwich with a yellow tomato ball and a queer love note on top of it.

Please notice the green note in the bottom right-hand corner.

So in case your kids is telling horrible stories at the lunch table – and the other kids are staring blankly at him – or saying something like “That story sucked,” – your note will be there to save the day!!

God forbid the 6 hour school day goes by without these children receiving some undeserving accolades from their mother!!

I actually perused the catalogue for a minute – thinking it would be nice to have the notes ready to go in the drawer in the morning. Maybe I would buy some, but I searched through the whole thing and couldn’t find any that were my kind of notes…..

Really?? It’s not enough that this lunch consists of yuca chips and cherry tomatoes? If my mother ever put a note in my lunch that said I was a “kind person” I would kill her.

I usually write things like:

“Hope you are having a nice day Michael – by the way the shirt you’re wearing is from Nordstrom – so if you rip your clothes at recess again today you are punished for a week.”


“Hi Love bug – don’t forget – if that bully bothers you again remember how Daddy told you to punch him right in the face!! Have a great day :)”


“If your friend offers to share his fruit snacks today, you are not allowed to eat them. This is why he already had a root canal when he was 4 – you will thank me later :)”

I guess I will be writing my own notes this school year…..


Shit that makes me late for work that my husband doesn’t know how to do.

Between 2 long work days and various social obligations that included a sleepover with college friend, I pretty much left Mr. Gaga alone with the kids all weekend.  Friday morning I woke up early with my mind swirling.

Before I left the house I would need to pack my belongings and additionally I would have to “prep” everything so that things could run smoothly in the Gaga household without me.

I shoot out of bed in the mornings with lists forming before my feet even hit the floor of all of the little tasks that need to be completed.  While I come out of bed guns blazin’ ready to accomplish a lot, Mr. Gaga has more leisurely mornings that basically include one thing….



Imagine just waking up and only thinking about your bowels?? How luxurious!

Working women today are lucky that they have the opportunity to work- however, we don’t really have the luxury of being a working mother and turn off our stay at home mom brain.  Most men don’t think like us.  They don’t pay attention to detail.

Put simply – we have to do it all.

As I ran around frantically trying to remember everything and carefully lay out everything the kids might need for the next 48 hours, I was running out of time, and I was going to be late for work.  I started weighing whether I could leave certain tasks undone and rely on Mr. Gaga to complete them.  It was then that I realized that there is quite a bit that Mr. Gaga can’t or simply won’t do.

Here’s a list of some mom shit that Mr. Gaga ain’t got no time for:

#1 – Running the dishwasher:

Mr. Gaga might actually empty it.  There’s no way in hell he’s going to recognize that it’s full, lean over, fill it with detergent and run it.

One of his favorite activities is to rearrange the dishwasher.  I throw everything into the racks haphazardly trying to move on with my day, and run the bitch,  Not Mr. Gaga.

He will actually rearrange my loading work for a full twenty minutes.  He will line everything up neatly and make more room for dirty dishes, while yelling out “Who loaded this? Ray Charles?”

I decided I better run it Friday morning and lo and behold when I came home Sunday afternoon I had to run and load it again.

#2 – Wrapping a gift:

Sam had to go to a birthday party on Saturday night.  I had already secured the card and gift because Lord knows that Mr. Gaga has never even purchased a card or gift for his own children let alone somebody else’s.  

I was rushing up the stairs to hop into the shower and I laid eyes on the gift in the foyer.  I didn’t really have time to wrap it.  

Could Mr. Gaga wrap a gift? Would he wrap a gift?

I stopped on the stairs and had a vision of Sam showing up with a slip n’ slide under his arm with no card.

I wrapped it.

#3 Bathing:

When I hopped in the shower I made a mental note to remind Mr. Gaga to make sure the kids had showers.  This man has been known to “forget” to put them in the shower.   He has been known to say if they play in the sprinkler or hose, or especially if they go in a pool then that “counts as a shower.”

#4 – Wash and dry clothing:

When I got out of the shower and started getting dressed – it occurred to me that I had left Michael’s baseball uniform in the laundry.  Would Mr. Gaga think about this three days ahead of time and be sure to wash and dry the uniform so it would be ready for Sunday?

The answer was clearly no – so I ran downstairs to throw a load of laundry in.

#5 – Lay out appropriate clothing:

Faced with the laundry I thought – I better put out some clothes for the kids to wear otherwise Sam will arrive at his party looking like a lunatic.  Mr. Gaga generally has no regard for what is proper and acceptable attire at any given time.  He will let the children wear mismatch clothing that a homeless person would wear and think nothing of it.  He does that with the kids, because he actually does it for himself as well.

I put out fresh clean and matching clothes for the weekend for each child.  Mr. Gaga would obviously have to fend for himself.   This morning he had a football game to attend and then came home in a rush so that we could all head out to Michael’s baseball game.  I wasn’t paying attention and it wasn’t until we were halfway there that I looked down at his feet.

“What the fuck are you doing??” I screamed.

I startled him from his driving, “What?” he yelled back.

Are you wearing a fucking shower shoe with a sock to your son’s game?


He sure as shit was.

#6 – Eating healthy food:

I left homemade eggplant parm, pasta, and pizza for my family to enjoy on Friday night.  There were cold cuts for sandwiches and fruit.  I was confident that Mr. Gaga could at least figure out something for Saturday night.

“What did you guys eat for dinner last night?” I asked Sam this morning.

“Wings and onion rings sandwiches.” he answered promptly.

I mean really?? 

Is it so hard to understand basic health and diet guidelines established by the USDA?

This is the food pyramid in Mr. Gaga’s mind looks like:


#7 – Watching appropriate programming:

When I was running out the door, I remembered that the library books were due as well the Harry Potter DVD that we borrowed.  I sent a text to Mr. Gaga to return the DVD and have the kids pick out another movie if they wanted to.

How hard of a task could that be?

Well it seems that they thoroughly enjoyed the movie that Mr. Gaga suggested for them.  When I returned they were saying weird things to me, like “Your mom goes to college,” and “Are you going to eat your tots?”

It sounded familiar.

Then I was drinking water and Sam said this:



“You let them watch Napoleon Dynamite??” I yelled at Mr. Gaga.  “Really??”

And he said:




Like we don’t have enough snarky one-liners around here. 

Thank God I am home now so everything can go back to normal!!!






Upscale Cuts

I hate when programs change that have been working just fine – but apparently WordPress has done something so that I can no longer upload pictures.  So after I went from computer to computer and nothing worked, I had a complete nervous breakdown and smashed every computer to bits  called wordpress headquarters with a bomb threat  told Mr. Gaga I wanted a divorce

realized the problem wouldn’t be resolved tonight – I am just hoping that you can click on the links for pictures or …….

Use your imagination????


Anyways – when you shirk your parental duties from the last day of school until the first day of school, things can really get dicey.

I really meant to go out and do things that I needed to do.

It was just that each time I was going to head out and run some errands to get school supplies or clothes, or bring the child to necessary doctor appointments, I never was able to make it because it was just so…..


On the day before school started I finally decided to make a to-do list and start getting organized.

On the top of the list was to get haircuts for both boys.  Their hair had grown out into bleached shaggy haircuts appropriate for beach bums but not really for school.

And you know how I feel about parents who don’t get their children’s hairs cut.

“No!” both boys moaned.  “We don’t want hair cuts! We are growing out our hair…”

“Not on my watch you aren’t.” I stood firm.

Sam would not be easily swayed – as he is obsessed with his hair and his tan.  He spends hours looking at himself in the mirror combing his hair into different styles and his tan is a top priority and he is possibly the tannest 7 year-old you will ever lay eyes on.

I thought that I should actually show you so you can understand how tan he is, so I went into his room before bed and had him just pull down his shorts a tiny bit to show the line between white and almost black skin.  Just when Sam was peeling down his shorts and I was about to click the camera – Mr. Gaga came into the room and accused me of being a child pornographer and it got very weird and uncomfortable so I found an old picture of him playing on the beach that kind of shows what I am talking about…

This is Sam playing on the beach.....

This is Sam playing on the beach…..

I recently had seen a very young cool acquaintance and he had longer hair on the top and shaved on the sides with stars and crazy designs.  I had asked him where he got his hair done and he gave me the address where his cousin worked, a barber that was very talented at hair design.

This is what his hair looks like…..


I knew that Sam had wanted to have lines in the side of his hair during the World Cup like many of the soccer players, so I lured him into agreeing to a haircut by telling him I would bring him to this hair salon where the barber knew how to create a line on the side of his head.

Normally we go to a kid’s haircutting place where the stylists in no uncertain terms could not be trusted to do anything but a buzz cut.

This is what that place looks like…….


He excitedly agreed to go first thing Tuesday morning and Michael indifferently said he would come too.

Come to find out the salon didn’t take appointments.

I planned on going first thing when the door opened at 9:30 in the morning and then proceeding with the 500 other places I needed to go after that.

The place was about twenty minutes away and my acquaintance had said when he told me the address that it was behind the “7-11.”  That didn’t make sense to me – but what do you know it was in a little building behind the “7-11″ and it was called “Upscale Cutz.”

That little “z” in “cuts” should have been a warning.  But I was determined to get these kids a cool haircut and I paid the grammatically incorrect sign no mind.

When we entered the door we had clearly traveled into a new uncharted territory.

The place was filled with men and teenage boys.  There was a movie playing on a tv screen on the wall and there were a bunch of kids playing video games.   I stood just inside the door with both boys next to me.  I kept my sunglasses on and stared at everyone from behind the safety of the dark lenses.  They stared back at me.

This was clearly not “Snip-Its.”

We had crossed over completely into the world of the “barber shop.”

This is what that looked like…


“Can I help you?” said the one barber while he was buzzing someone’s head.  He was an extremely large man with quite possibly the largest camoflague shorts on I have ever seen and his feet where in what I refer to in my household as “shower shoes.”

“Um…they need haircuts.” I said gesturing to the two boys.

“Ok – well all of these people are before you.” he said nodding his head towards the 15 men that were already waiting.  “It’s going to be awhile.”

I watched as he shaved the guy’s head and did some quick math and thought he would be able to be done quick enough and it would be worth it to have a cool back to school haircut.

It was 9:30 – even if we were out by like 10:30 or 11:00, I could still get everything done that I needed to.

We made ourselves as comfortable as we could while sitting on a folding chairs and waited and watched the show.

I soon realized that there were in fact even more people than I had originally calculated, and they apparently didn’t even want their hair cut.  They seemed to be just there for fun.   The men cracked jokes and talked about sports while we waited.

Angry mothers came in several times, speaking Spanish, but I think they were asking how long for a haircut for their kids, and stormed out cursing out the barber.

One woman spoke to the barber in Spanish and then on the way out screamed in plain English, “I’m done with this fucking bullshit.” before pushing through the door and PEELING OUT of the parking lot.

I caught a glimpse of Michael during this little interaction.  This is what he looked like:


I started to get antsy and looked at the clock, it was 10:30 and we were nowhere near being next.

I had already invested an hour, I would stay a bit longer, I decided.

Next thing we know, a man comes in who was either possessed by the devil or had done so much drugs that he had turned into a zombie.

He walked stiffly, seemingly in some sort of trance as he pushed the door open.

He came barging in staring straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror and was making the sign of the cross repeatedly.  He was holding a “Table Talk” pie and sometimes he would stop making the sign of the cross and he would look at his pie wide-eyed in horror.  He was dripping with sweat.

I clutched the kids.

Everyone was afraid.   Finally the barber asked him if he was alright.  The guy didn’t answer.  By the fifth time the barber asked – he announced he was waiting for a haircut.  He turned to look at the room for a seat and of course the only seat in the whole place was right next to Sam.

I was horrified as he looked at the chair and then looked at us.

This is what that looked like….


As he came lumbering over, I ripped Sam up from the chair and told him to flee to the other side of the room.  I was brave and stayed put, one seat safely between us.

The zombie took his blueberry Table Talk pie and began shoving it in his face ravenously, making strange noises and rubbing blueberries all over his mouth.

I had to get up and run to the other side of the room.  I felt sick to my stomach, it was hot and now I couldn’t even sit down.

Thankfully after about 20 minutes, he got up threw the box in the garbage and left.

The whole place breathed a sigh of relief.

I sat back in my chair.  “Now Sam,” I whispered.  “When you get your turn you need to tell him that you want it to just be trimmed on top and a line on the side.”

“I know.” he answered.

Every few minutes I would check in with him and see if he had changed his mind.  “What are you going to ask him to do?” I would ask in a hushed voice.

“Just one line or zigzag on the side.” he would whisper back.

At 12:30!!! it was Michael’s turn.  He was not interested in any design so he got his regular haircut and Sam was up.

“Don’t forget what to say,” I whispered in his ear as we approached the barber chair.
He nodded his head up and down seriously as he hopped into the chair.

He looked nervously up at the barber and didn’t speak.

I jumped in and described the haircut we had discussed.

“So we were thinking just like one line on the side…” I said sweetly.

The barber kind of listened to me but was focused on Sam.

“You want me to do a freestyle design for you brother?” the barber asked Sam- “man-to man.”

Sam stared back at him.


“Ok – I will just give you a freestyle.” the barber said as he cut his buzzer ready.

I stared at Sam’s eyeballs and tried to send him a message saying “THIS IS NOT WHAT WE PLANNED! WE NEVER DISCUSSED THE FREESTYLE!!” but he just shrugged.

Without sounding too wimpy I needed this freestyle business to be curbed a bit….

“Um…can we just do a small section of “freestyle?” I asked.

“Sure.” the barber shrugged.

I ran back to my chair, wondering what the fuck a “freestyle” haircut was.

Well here it is -a freestyle back to school haircut.


And there’s never been a happier customer.  And after three long hours of torture and zombies eating pies this masterpiece cost me $5.

We will be back.  For the price, the entertainment and for the sheer joy I will have telling the other Goopville moms that Sam got his haircut at “Upscale Cutz” when they surely will be wanting to know where their little angels can have such a fancy “freestyle” cut.





Ain’t nobody got time for that…

As the summer comes to a close I have to face the harsh reality that the children are going back to school.

I am not going to allow myself to spiral into a depression.

I am going to refuse to worry about the insignificant nonsense that I get caught up with during the school year.

Here’s some shit that I am not going  to have time for this year:

 #1 – Homework:

I will have my children do their homework, as much as I can, but guess what?

As I tell my children regularly when they ask me for help with their homework…

I already fucking passed the fourth grade.  I already passed the fucking second grade.

So that means that these children have to do their best and hope that they too can pass their grades.

It’s not my fucking problem.

This is not China.

I’m not going to micromanage all of this spelling and reading and math.

Figure it out kids.


#2- Organic Food

I mean – I can’t keep up with this.

First of all – I don’t have the time or energy or funds to purchase everything grass-fed from the farmer’s market or Whole Foods.

I mean are we really all going to die if we eat a little bit of high fructose corn syrup and red dye #40?

Yes? We are?

Well then…I guess we will die happy and fat.

I try – I really do.  In my effort to neglect the children in the morning while simultaneously giving them good food – I purchased organic pomegranate toaster pastries this summer while at my parent’s beach house.

When my father woke up and saw them in the cupboard he was very alarmed.

He picked the box up and stared at it blankly.  “Who the hell eats this shit?” he asked.

“It’s organic…and made from pomegranites.” I said knowingly.

The next day he arrived arms filled with boxes of chocolate and strawberry frosted Pop Tarts.

“I thought the kids should have proper Pop Tarts.” he announced.

Then he started comparing the labels.  “Look at this!” he said excitedly as he read from the Kellogg’s Pop Tart label, “It’s a good source of 4 B vitamins and a good source of 6 vitamins and minerals!”


Then we looked at the organic toaster pastry label.


Fuck it.

 #3 – Playdates and parties:

I am just not getting roped into any of this bullshit any more.  I am too old for this.  My kids are too old for this.  I purposely had a baby and then filled my uterus with another baby when the first baby was a mere 6 months old.  I was tortured with two babies for a solid three years.

The benefit of all of that was to have two children who could play together.

Then why the hell do I have to play all these playdate games with people?

That lady that stood me up for the playdate? I never rescheduled.

The first two birthday party invites we received for the fall…..they are in the garbage.


#4 Assholes

I regularly open my email and notice that people have commented on old blog posts.  My most popular posts that people continue to comment on include my Disney post and my Pottery barn post.  I have learned that there are a lot of angry people in this world and Americans will never stop being mad at me for talking shit about Disney World, fat people in motorized carts and people that consume huge vats of Diet Coke.

Still – even though I know that there are many troubled people in this world it still is sometimes troubling to open up my email and see a message from “FUCKYOUCUNT.”


I just don’t know why people who hate me so much take time out of their day to send me this type of message.  I will continue my efforts to make fun of shit that’s fucking funny like enormous humans that wear Mickey Mouse ears like its’ their job and people that make sandwiches into tic tac toe boards for their kids.

If you don’t enjoy my commentary – there’s a “back” button on the upper left hand corner of the computer screen.

Click it motherfuckers.

I enjoy people who laugh until they pee in their pants.

If you aren’t one of those people then we can’t be friends.

And speaking of peeing in your pants….

#5 – Bladder control 

Sometimes I worry about my poor bladder control.  I mean since I have given birth my bladder just isn’t what it used to be.  If I sneeze   cough   drive my car over a speedbump laugh really hard  – I have been know to have a little bit of a gallon dribble of pee come out.

Sometimes I worry about what will happen to me as I age.  Should I have bladder surgery? Apparently you can get your bladder put into a bladder hammock of some sort that holds it up so that it won’t let pee explode out of you for no reason.

So when I get older the plan is for this guy to hit the road and my bladder to hang in this hammock and relax...

So when I get older the plan is for this guy to hit the road and my bladder to hang in this hammock and relax…

I sometimes think about how sad my social life will be as my bladder control gets worse and worse.

Will I someday be house-bound?

Well – apparently not.

Depends has a new ad campaign which is making me feel much better about my situation.


Yes – that’s correct – the tagline reads “drop your pants for Underwareness”

Well if all of these twenty-five year olds can walk around wearing jean jackets and gigantic diapers – then I guess I can too.

Problem solved.

#6 – Fancy Lunches –

I dread pulling out those Pottery Barn kids lunchbags and making my children lunch for the next 10 months.  I would be one thing if I could shove Capri Suns, poptarts and nutella and fluff in there, but NOOOOO…..We are expected to provide the children with “healthy snacks” “healthy beverages” and “healthy lunches.”

This is an example from the latest Pottery Barn kids catalogue of the type of lunch that modern day parents are expected to provide.

So let me get this made your kid's sandwich into a cat? And the cat's eyeballs are almonds carefully placed on a the bread?

So let me get this straight…I am to make my kid’s sandwich into a cat? And the cat’s eyeballs are almonds carefully placed on a the bread? Who’s idea was this and can he or she please seek help.


Is this sandwich now supposed to be a boat? If I ever opened my lunch in grade school to find a boat sandwich with a gingham flag on it – I would burst into tears, throw the whole thing in the garbage and go to the guidance counselor. Do kids today have no pride???

And in the latest craze of parents that are very troubled and need to find better uses of their time, people are creating fancy pictures on the childrens’ sandwich bags.

So it’s not enough to simply make the lunch into the shape of animals, now you have to decorate the wrappers.


I’m sorry – am I the only person that doesn’t have two hours in the morning to create a full bread-shaped maze?

Why do children need decorated ziplocs?  And if you are that skilled at creating a maze couldn’t you go to work for like the Associated Press creating jumbles and mazes for people?  You could work for a farm creating a corn maze….

Surely your talents could be better spent elsewhere….

And thirdly – is your goal for the kids to be antisocial? Shouldn’t they speak to their friends in the cafeteria while they eat lunch?

Instead – they will just spend their twenty minute lunch period trying to solve your dickwad maze?

You’re an asshole.


In closing – I am going to work very hard to not worry about any of this…

If you hear me complaining about playdates, homework, sandwich art, organic foods or peeing in my pants this year – slap me.




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.


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:


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.)


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.


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


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……






Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,785 other followers

%d bloggers like this: