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Monthly Archives: December 2011

Even our Snowmen are Guidos

I am back – hope everyone had a Merry Christmas!!

The dust is settling here and I am coming out of an antipasto-induced coma and assessing how best to  return things I don’t like,

 throw the Nerf Guns in the garbage without the kids noticing, 

put things away.

I have spent a good part of the past two months complaining about how filthy my house is, how I step on little tiny LEGO pieces all over my house, and how I have to clean everything myself because my husband is too busy tailgating

Somehow – nobody cares.

None of you have offered to clean for me.

Nobody sent a cleaning service over.


Now coupled with my usual troubles of keeping a semi-clean house – I have to deal with scraps of wrapping paper, MORE toys everywhere, and the tree.

Well – somebody finally came to my rescue!!!  Just in time for pine needle season!!


I love you Bissell.

They sent me the BISSELL Perfect Sweep Turbo to help me pick up LEGOS!!! and anything else that needs a quick sweep. 

A major part of my problem is that I don’t want to go to the closet and get out my huge vacuum, so instead I just watch the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills surrounded by filth.

But now I have this Perfect Sweep Turbo- I have no excuse not to use it – this is like a modern-day dustbuster.

Mr. Gaga always says we need a dustbuster – now we just grab it from the porch and vacuum everything up – no plugging in.  And it is great at picking up those little annoying LEGOS! 

With the Perfect Sweep Turbo you can see exactly what you’re sweeping up and can easily pull it out of the container.  I mean it when I tell you –  I LOVE THIS PRODUCT. (Which you all probably already have because you are good at housekeeping.)

And now – as I tried to get organized and put things away – I got around to opening Michael’s backpack which was jam-packed with papers that I hadn’t had time to look at.

In the pile was a book that he had been working on throughout December at school.  This project entailed him writing and illustrating a book about a snowman.

When I was growing up I just wanted to listen to Cyndi Lauper or Madonna in the car and my parents would be listening to Imus or the WDRC 106.9 the Oldies station.

Mr. Gaga and I are NOT like that. WE ARE VERY COOL HIP PARENTS.  We listen to “top 40” and pop music and we know who Nicki Minaj is and are known to have dance parties with the kids.  We pretty much listen to everything – except gangsta rap.

So of course, Michael would think nothing of creating a story about a snowman that comes to life and starts to sing and dance.  I’m also sure it would seem perfectly logical for him to sing “I’m Sexy and I Know it.”

This is Michael's snowman on his way home from the Shish Lounge in West Hartford.....

So he was quite taken aback when his teacher made him change his story – because “That is not an appropriate word for a first-grader.”

He changed it to "I'm Coldy and I know it...."

Ummm….does that also mean it’s not appropriate for my kids to rip their clothes off and dance to that song in their underwear, gyrating their hips like they are Chippendales dancers?

Darn it.

I guess I will have to add to my better parenting New Year’s Resolution list – #43 – NO STRIP SHOWS TO “I’M SEXY AND I KNOW IT.”

Linking to



Guest blogger – Mr. Gaga

If you didn’t read last week’s blog post – click here to read about my frustrations with Mr. Gaga and the Christmas tree decorating night we had planned.  

Well last week I had the most readers in the history of this blog.

Note to self – People that read this blog quite enjoy when I talk shit about Jesus and they enjoy even more when I talk shit about my husband!!!

Mr. Gaga asked for a chance to plead his case – so I granted him a chance to guest blog below.  I also – linked to Pour Your Heart out – because apparently that’s what he’s doing……Enjoy!

Before I start, let me first ask this….no one found it ironic that the Mr. Gaga bashing followed the blog about Lady’s period

It was set up so perfectly. 

A blog about a woman’s period, then  a week later, a story about how awful her husband is. 

The night the infamous tree incident reminded me of a scene from 28 Days Later.  (Not just a catchy title, but perfect timing.)

This is Lady in the living room window as we pulled up the driveway.  Something about the eyes told me that she was less than happy with me.  We call those “period eyes”. 

Now while I could probably write forever on this topic, I was given strict instructions about my “guest blogging”.  I will attempt to keep it short and sweet. 

To you all, Ladygoogoogaga,  is funny and witty. 

I like to compare her to grandkids.  Grandparents love them. You know why?  Because they go home to their parents at the end of the day. 

You bring Lady into your home once a week to make you laugh.  In reality, you close her blog and wait till the next week.  I on the other hand have to live with her for the remainder of the week telling me how funny she is. 

“Why don’t you think I’m funny?’  “984 people thought I was funny this week.” 

Really Lady!  If you’re so funny, how come your shit ain’t payin the fuckin mortgage?  If you’re so funny, why don’t you go out and buy your own fuckin car instead of stealing mine?

Sorry.  I got off task.  Let me get back to the story.  Two weeks ago, I got suckered into going back to the infamous tree farm.  I had no problem going to Home Depot to get a tree and calling it a day.  I didn’t want to go out to that wretched tree farm anyway.  Lady’s father made me feel guilty. How can I tell this man no? 

Long story short, I was ready to pack up around 4:30 pm to go home.  Father in law comes up and says, “Can you do me a favor?” 

I knew what he has going to ask me before his mouth opened.  He wanted me to drive his 2 Christmas trees one hour out of my way, to his house because he couldn’t fit them in his car.  That meant I have to drive one hour one way to catch up two hours the other way.  I wouldn’t get home until close to 8:00 pm.  How can I tell this man no?  I couldn’t! 

This is the same man who brought me to my colonoscopy, held my hand in the room and drove me home after.  This is all because “Ladygoogoohaha” couldn’t make it due to the “perfect 10 ” beach day.  In a nut shell, while her husband was getting anally probed by a doctor, WITH HER FATHER HOLDING HIS HAND, she was basking in the sun at the beach. 

I ruined the Christmas Tree decorating night

He was so proud to be there for me.

That being said.  I am not a bad guy.  I go to work.  I don’t beat my wife (though tempting at times).  I love my children.  I do my best to keep things moving smoothly in the house. 

Just so you know, when she was  not speaking to me for three days….she actually was actually doing me a favor.  Seriously, you women think you are punishing us when you give us the silent treatment.  It is actually the greatest gift ever. 

What she did leave out was the fact that I wake up at 4:30 am to be at work at 5:30 am.    Come home at 5 or 6 at night to high-five her as she walks out the door for book club or some other fucking excuse for a cult she belongs to. 

My weekends include play dates with most of the people highlighted in this blog, stupid birthday parties, cleaning up the front yard because apparently if you’re a fuckin comedian like my wife, you can’t pick up a goddamn toy in the yard.  I AM  MR. MOM!

I just got home. Lady had a stand-up gig at Coconuts, so the house was a little messy.

She’s hilarious. 

You know what’s funny? 

The fact that I keep having to wear my underwears inside out to pretend they’re clean because Lucille Ballgoogoogaga is busy making the world laugh.   

Basically, my message is this.  You all should shut the fuck up because every woman should be so lucky to have a guy like me.  You have no idea what it is like to live with her!  She is like Mommy Dearest, Fatal Attraction, and Misery in one character.  This guest blog is my cry for help. 

Below is a link for you to vote for me as the biggest asshole husband.  But before you vote, spend a week in my shoes.  You may change your mind.  Thank you, good night, and god bless…….

Mr. Gaga

Alright – really the click on this banner will just further my proof that I am the funniest mom in America…….Even though I already know it’s true – it’s good to be validated  – can you believe this guy???

It’s a Wonderful Life…….for my husband

So because I have been working more than usual and can barely get my chores done, when Christmas decorating, baking, cards, shopping, wrapping, etc is added to the mix ……forget it.

I have thrown my hands up in the air – and started to delegate a lot to Mr. Gaga.

Also – I have had to let some things go. 

Some activities I simply cannot do. 

The parent volunteer sign-up sheet for my preschooler’s class went right in the garbage – along with the order forms and catalogues for the pie and wrapping paper fundraiser. (sorry PTO – maybe next year ….but let’s be honest….probably not)

Traditionally, we go cut down our tree the same day as my parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, brother, etc. 

We spend the day at the farm tailgating. 

Let me be clear in case you find this an odd tradition – my husband would tailgate at funerals if they let him.   Any excuse to start an open fire and stand around it for hours on end talking, drinking and eating…..

This is Mr. Gaga at the Christmas Tree Tailgate party...

This year – I just couldn’t find a day that worked – so I gave up and told Mr. Gaga to go without me last Saturday morning.  I told him to go early and come home in the afternoon, that way he could put the tree up – and start dinner.  I would get home around 7, we could eat dinner and then trim the tree as a family.

Mind you – this was at the end of a long 50 hour work week for me and Sunday would be the start of another one – so we really only had this small window of time to decorate the tree and have some family time.

Do you know when I got home at 7:15 PM…… hungry and tired, looking forward to dinner and a glass of wine and Christmas cheer……..

Mr. Gaga and my tree were NOT HOME YET.

Do you understand what I am telling you?

Not only was the tree not UP WITH LIGHTS ON IT…..

…….it was not FUCKING HOME.

Do you know at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” when George Bailey comes home and wants to kill everyone – and he kicks all the presents and says “Janie will you stop playing that lousy piano?” and then he goes up the stairs and wants to throw the piece of the banister on the floor…..that was me. 

I wanted to kick everything and murder my husband.

I trudged into the cold, dark house.

I turned on the lights.

The chicken I had put out that morning to defrost (that should now have been in a fajita) was on the counter sitting limply in a defrosted pile.

The morning coffee cups and breakfast dishes were on the counter.

The morning newspaper was strewn about.

The sink was filled with dirty dishes and……

wait for it……

the dishwasher needed to be emptied.

I went ballistic.

Instead of calling and yelling at Mr. Welch - I called Mr. Gaga and told him he was a motherfucker.....then I went out into town looking for a bridge to jump from......

I slammed all the pots and pans and started making dinner.
I swore out loud for twenty minutes calling my husband every bad name I could think of.
And then I did what George Bailey would do in my position. 
I cried.
When my husband came home Sam was asleep already – which further sent me into a tirade.
I informed Mr. Gaga – that because he chose to stand around looking at a fire pit and eating sausage and peppers for 14 hours – now Christmas was destroyed. 
Poor Michael still had hope – so after I cooked and ate dinner by myself – because NOBODY WAS HUNGRY BECAUSE THEIR FATHER GAVE THEM HOT DOGS ALL DAY…..
I tried to put the lights up with Mr. Gaga while not speaking to him and simultaneously sending him hateful vibes through the pine needles.

What's the big deal? Why are you crying? Are you crying about coming home to raw chicken on the counter and a messy house or is it just because you married an idiot that cares more about tailgating than he does about you?

Michael waited patiently to hang the ornaments, snuggled on the couch in his PJ’s.  When we finally finished putting up the lights, and were ready to hang ornaments, I looked over at him and he was fast asleep.
This broke my heart.  I reminded Mr. Gaga once more that the kids will never be 4 1/2 and 6 again – and they couldn’t decorate the tree this year because of him and that he single-handedly destroyed Christmas for all of us.
I finished decorating the tree by myself until midnight…..crying.
Is this just a horrible Christmas tale or what?
This seems to always happen to me!
I am so frantically trying to create happy memories for myself and my kids every year, and every year it ends in disaster.
I am determined to have Christmas cheer!!!!
I am Clark Griswold.
“You’re doing too much – just stay home and empty the dishwasher and decorate the tree. Nobody’s husband is doing everything with the kids, cooking chicken, and emptying the dishwasher….forget it.” my BF lectured me.
“So you are saying this is all my fault for going to work?” I yelled.
“No – I am saying that you have created chaos by working all these hours – so just don’t get mad when nothing gets done.  It’s just not going to get done until you get home and do it yourself.”
What a horrible answer.
Sadly – she’s probably right.
All I know is that I can’t do it all alone – and I especially can’t do it all alone at Christmas-time.
I think Mr. Gaga got the message. He has been helping much more and I eventually started speaking to him on Tuesday…….
Tis the Season!!!!
Please click on the banner below to give me a vote for funniest mom in America:)  Thanks!! XOXOXO LADY GOO GOO GAGA

Nobody Tells You…..

So I figured since last week I talked shit about Jesus – and you were all down with that – this week nobody would mind if I discussed another taboo topic, which is my period.



Anyways – this is all I want to say.  There are a lot of things that happened to my body since I got pregnant.  Many of these “subtle” transformations I had been told might happen (permanently increased foot size, saggy boobs.)  Other changes….. not so much, (permanently increased finger size??? and permanently increased period size???)

As I had to excuse myself at work this week, two times in the course of two hours – to change a tampon, I thought,

“This is so disgusting – people probably think I have diarrhea.  How come nobody warns you about this?” 

That was after the tampon machine ate my quarter that I had borrowed from someone!!  (Oh – and try asking someone casually for a quarter by the way.)

“For what?”

“Oh…um…. a gumball from the um ….gumball machine…….”

Someone (my doctor, my mother, other people’s mothers, anyone?????) should really say “Oh just so you know – after you have kids – your period will pour out of you like the Niagara Falls!!”

Well nobody told me – so the first time I woke up with my period after having my son – I looked at my husband and I thought someone had murdered him. It was pretty much like the scene from The Godfather when the guy wakes up with a horse head in his bed.

For those of you who have not gotten pregnant yet – right now when you get your period – it is not a big deal.  

You can put a little Q-tip-size tampon in and still do fun activities like the girl below – with no worries!!!

Just in case you were wondering – I am here to tell you that upon giving birth, your boyfriend will no longer play airplane with you like that. 

Number one – he will never be able to lift you with just his legs again.

Number two – If he stuck both of his feet on your abdomen like that when you were menstruating you would both be drenched in blood.

I too, used to use a “slender” tampon for “light days.” 

After childbirth you will never have a “light day” again (literally and figuratively of course.) 

The flow is not the only supersized aspect of the equation, by the way.  Every symptom seems to get worse with age.  The few days before my period – I used to get mild cravings and a little bitchy.

Let’s just say I am now known to eat everything in the entire house and be a little teensy bit more irritable and psychotic.  Let’s also say that my stomach can now bloat to the size it was when a human being was living in it. 

This is the shirt I usually wear on the days I am bloated - this way I avoid all those pesky questions about if I am pregnant or not.....

And of course all of these leaking tampons of course leads to a drawer filled with destroyed  underwear.

One time my husband and I went to see a comedian and he said after he first got married he went to the bathroom sink and saw something soaking in it. 

He took it out and held it up – and called to his wife,

“Why are you soaking the pillowcase?”

She said, “I’m not – those are my period underwear.”

I laughed so hard I cried. 

Then I thought about how I used to have tons of matching sets of bras and underwear that were gorgeous from Victoria’s Secret that were not stained from breast milk and periods.

Then I cried some more.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Thank God that I am here to inform people of what horrors are to come upon giving birth……Please vote for me by clicking the banner below as a token of appreciation!! XO Lady Goo Goo Gaga

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