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Taking Responsiblity

Does anyone know how to make a child become inherently responsible?

Everyday I wake up to an alarm on my phone that I set in order to wake up in time to get my kids up for school.  I wake up Sam and then spend the next fifteen minutes screaming for Michael to wake up.  I pull clothes out of his drawer and throw them at his head and then rip his covers off.  I give him another couple shakes before heading downstairs to make lunches.

Research has shown that if I don’t spend the first few minutes of my day in this manner, then Michael will come strolling downstairs a few minutes before the bus is due to arrive looking like a homeless lunatic.

I'm ready for school!!

I’m ready for school!!

While I pack lunches and try to simultaneously make coffee, I repeatedly yell at the kids to grab something to eat.  Otherwise they will just sit at the table waiting for a waitress to magically appear with their bowl of cereal.

They are never able to get their shit together.



Often in the interest of time I will end up throwing a waffle in the toaster or grabbing the milk for their cereal – because they just cannot seem to get their bodies to move fast enough, and if they miss that bus, now my morning will be really screwed.

I will at some point pour myself a cup of coffee and take one heavenly sip.

After they finally eat, I have to remind them to brush their teeth and make their beds.  Even though I have been telling them to do this since they were three, I have to remind them. EVERY. DAY.

In addition, I now have to remind Michael to put on deodorant so that he won’t smell like a farm animal at school and alienate his friends.

I spend 8:03 to 8:06 chasing both children around with library books, folders, and lunch bags while screaming at them to put on hats and gloves.  At 8:06 we switch gears into full panic mode.  I open the front door and peer out to see if the bus has arrived.

“HURRY UP!!” I scream frantically while they tie their shoes and strap on their backpacks.

Once they are out the door I go back to my coffee that is now an ice cold cup of sludge and pour it into the sink.

That’s how I start my day….every living day.

Will it ever change?

Will some day arrive when my children know what to do??

At what age will they be when I no longer have to ask them if they brushed their teeth?

When they arrive home the panic and pestering picks up where we left off.

I ask them to get started on their homework.  Michael, who has one assignment on Wednesdays that requires an entire week to complete, tells me that he doesn’t have to do his homework every afternoon.  He would rather leave the week’s worth of work until the last minute, and every week I try to explain and coax him into preparing and doing a little bit at a time.

Drums have to be practiced and reading and math needs to be completed daily.

Dinner needs to be eaten after that.

Then showers need to be taken and then I have to chase them around to get them to put their little bodies into their beds at a reasonable time.

There’s just endless chasing and yelling.

This past week the irresponsibility reached an all-time high.

When I opened Michael’s folder I found his homework that was supposed to be turned in two day previous.

Then I saw a little folded piece of paper and opened it to find that it was a birthday invitation from one of his classmates. The date that I found the invite was February 24th.  The date of the party was February 15th.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I screeched, armed with the invite and the not-turned-in homework.

“I forgot.” Michael answered with a shrug.

“Well do you know what happens to people who “forget?” I asked gravely.

“They become homeless losers!! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?”

He said “no,” and I sent him upstairs to shower and go to bed.

I was very disappointed.  Also, I didn’t know how to rectify the situation.  My mother never had to chase me around, because I had an innate ability to care about my duties.  I received assignments and responsibilities and knew that they must be completed.  The fear of failure was enough for me, and still is to this day.

Once the day had ended and both kids were in their beds reading, I headed into the shower.

I am a tired and weathered woman.

The shower is a delightful escape.

For ten minutes I can go into the steamy hot water and lather myself with various creamy shower gels and feel good.

This is the most awesome part of my day....Sadly I only have one shower head.....

This is the most awesome part of my day….Sadly I only have one shower head.

But instead of this dreamy scene- I took one step into the shower and was met with an oil slick that jeopardized my life.

My feet were on banana peels and I could only grab the shower curtain to save myself.  I grabbed and grabbed at the curtain as I fell to my untimely death.  The whole curtain came down and I was left an oily naked mess in the tub with the curtain the rod hitting me in the head.


“YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!” I screamed!!!

Mr. Gaga came running up as he heard the 6 tons of flesh hitting the basin walls.

“What happened?” he asked looking down at me as I laid in a pile of shower curtain and despair.

“Your children!!” I squeaked.

I got myself together and came out in a towel to ask Michael what he had done in the shower. I have a cleansing oil in the shower that had clearly been squirted all over the tub.

“What did you do?” I demanded, naked and dripping in my towel.

“Well…I squirted the oil.” he admitted.

“And then, I was just enjoying the shower, I was relaxing and so happy…” he said quietly.

“I mean I was so relaxed….I just forget to wash my hair….” he said quietly.

“And my body.”


This is all he does in the shower apparently….


Do I have to go into the shower and scrub these people?

I don’t know what to do any more.

How do I make these people become upstanding responsible citizens of America?

Ideas are requested and welcome;)



Don’t Blame Jenny Blame Al….

Moms are getting a bad rap these days…

Everyone seems to be talking about how stupid some moms can be…

Everyone is just pointing and laughing at these moms that aren’t vaccinating their kids….

My kids got their vaccinations, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t think twice.  I would be lying if I said that I didn’t space out the vaccines a little more than the pediatrician prescribed.  I would be lying if I hadn’t thought in my mind, “Is he really going to get measles or rubella?”

Just because modern-day mothers collectively brought back a bunch of deadly diseases from the prehistoric times, everyone is dissing them.

But you stuffy “doctor-listeners” don’t know what life is like for us.

Women who were moms in the 50’s to 70’s and beyond are quick to judge today’s mothers and shake their heads when they hear the news that they are choosing to not vaccinate their children.  When I expressed concern about vaccinations when my kids were little, my own mother said “Don’t be ridiculous, you and your brother were vaccinated and you are both fine.”

Ok, but today’s vaccines are NOT what the original vaccines were.  They are over-manufactured and preserved and are lumped together with other vaccines.  I don’t really know what any of that means – except that it’s not the same vaccine that me and my brother received.

Secondly, we live in a world that is ruled by social media.  Our news feeds are filled with various articles and blogs and headlines announcing what we should be scared about for our children.  It is overwhelming and scary.  We are trying to do our best and every hour that we tune in to the news or facebook, we are told that we are failing.

Let me give you a haughty know-it-alls a quick perusal of the news items I found just TODAY that I need to worry about:

#1 – “Dry Drowning”

In the olden times – your children would take a swim and then they would come home and eat dinner and go to bed.  Well those days are over.  They can drown in their sleep!!! If you saw them ingest any water at all – then you must keep them awake all night so that they don’t die.

I actually have to worry about them drowning in real life- since they are horrible swimmers – but now I have to worry too about the sleep drowning…..Apparently this is “Nightmare on Elm Street.”


Oh…OK Dr. Hoehn – how about I never sleep again?

Then there’s the whole “Goldfish cracker” situation….


Um….OK…..I will only have kids eat them once a day instead of three times a day????

Ok....we're fucked.

Ok….we’re fucked.

Then there’s the whole soda situation.  I would never let my kids drink soda – except on a special occasion…

Apparently even that is really asking for trouble.

So if you decide to let your children drink soda - be prepared to have them destroy your home and beat the shit out of you and others.

So if you decide to let your children drink soda – be prepared to have them destroy your home and beat the shit out of you and others.

And then there’s the whole “screen time” dilemma….

You let your kids watch television and play x-box?? Well don't complain when they are suicidal and fat....

You let your kids watch television and play x-box?? Well don’t complain when they are suicidal and fat….

So it’s only logical that when we are inundated with information that can help us to prevent our children from dying or being severely physically or mentally ill that we would be scared or confused.

Older generations cannot relate to our frozen state of fear.

Why would they? They lived the “life of Reilly” where they could perform their parenting skills to the best of their ability with no worries or fears.

In olden times mothers would wake up and feed their children Pop Tarts (red dye and high fructose corn syrup will kill you) and regular old milk from the store (artificial growth hormone will cause cancer.) 

They would then pack a lunch of a baloney(carcinogens will cause cancer) or peanut butter and jelly(sugar and allergy causing ingredients) on white bread (refined white flour will cause diabetes.)  

Then they would spend their day smoking cigarettes inside their home (second hand smoke will kill you and your children) and talking on the phone (today’s cell phones send waves into your head that cause brain cancer) and clean using regular cleaning products purchased at the store(ammonia fumes can cause immediate danger to skin and lungs.) 

They would do laundry using fabric softener (toxic softeners can wreak havoc on the nervous system)

When the kids arrived home from school off the bus (that could crash at any minute) they would have a traditional American snack of cookies (childhood obesity) and the toxic milk again.  They would then go outside to play unattended, while moms had only a vague idea of their whereabouts (threats of abduction or child molestation.) 

The children would then come inside and either do homework or watch Sesame Street, Mister Rodgers and Electric Company(3 hours of screen time could cause obesity, ADHD, autism, mental illness and physical agressions.)

At bedtime the children would brush their teeth with the same toothpaste as their parents. (fluoride is an “endocrine disruptor” and can affect many things in the body, including the bones, the brain, the thyroid gland.)

And then they would get into their beds and go to sleep without any parents in their bed with them (NATURALCHILD.ORG actually SAYS that Babies and children have perished in fires, have been sexually abused by visiting relatives, have been abducted from their bed, have been attacked by pets, have suffocated after vomiting, and have died or been injured in various ways that could have been prevented had a parent been nearby to help.)

Days and days could go by like this with the mother having no fears or worries.

Short of the surgeon general visiting in person – there was no chance of anyone telling her that she was doing a bad job.

We will never have a day go by when we don’t second guess what we are doing.

SO IS IT ANY WONDER ???? That when a perfectly normal former playboy playmate     Donnie Walburg’s girlfriend 

tells us that she has the answers to prevent autism, we listen?!!

I see no real reason not to listen to this woman....

I see no real reason not to listen to this woman….

We don’t know the answers.  We aren’t pretending to be scientists or doctors.

We are scared!

We are riddled with guilt and worry.

If I hear Jenny tell a story about her perfectly healthy son who got vaccinated and then could no longer speak or respond appropriately, I am going to consider this.

I am going to then google “vaccines and autism.”

I am going to be met with millions of accounts and reports of children who negatively reacted to vaccinations.

It’s not Jenny McCarthy that is to blame for our lack of confidence in vaccinations.

It is the world wide web.

If anyone is to blame at all for this it’s Al Gore for inventing the internet!


We are not stupid.

We are not making rash decisions.

We are trying to weed through the overwhelming amount of evidence pointing to causes and reasons for our children to become sick or die.

We are trying to keep our children safe and healthy in a very treacherous world.

We are doing our best and so is Jenny, so don’t hate us.





We Are All Going to Drown….

I don’t know if it’s because I watched too much Oprah, or maybe it’s all the Celebrity Rehab I watch….

or it might because Ray Donovan and his brothers are totally troubled because of an evil priest from their childhood.


I am just very, very afraid that my children could be molested.  It’s not something that people openly speak about, and it’s not something that I want to imagine or think about either.  However, it seems like every time I watch the news I hear of some sadistic person doing something horrible to children.

My solution to this has been to openly talk about it – some might say too much.  When the kids were quite young, I started to explain that nobody should ever touch their private area.  When they were young the boys called their penis a “pee-pee” but then as they got older I shortened it to “peep.”

Mr. Gaga and others have said that my concern with potential troubles borders on ridiculous – but I say it’s best to have an open dialogue about this sort of thing.

Any time the kids seem down or come home from school in a bad mood- I immediately think the worst.

“How was your day?” I ask as they trudge in the door.  Michael will often shrug or mumble that his day wasn’t great.

“Did something happen?” I’ll ask in a panic.

“No Mom!” he’ll answer with annoyance.

I usually grab him by the shoulders and stare deep into his eyes.  “Michael, if someone at school touched your peep – you can tell me.”

Thank God the answer has always been no.

Recently, I walked upstairs around bed-time to find Michael in his bed crying.

“Oh my God!  What’s wrong?” I demanded as I threw myself onto his bed next to him.

“Leave me alone!” he cried into his pillow.

“What’s wrong?! You can tell me!” I begged.

“I hate my life!!” he screeched. “Now leave me alone!” he sobbed.

I called Mr. Gaga upstairs.  He stood at the end of the bed looking at us.

“What’s up?” he asked disinterestedly.

“Michael is crying and says he hates his life!” I explained with eyeballs wide open trying to signal to him while I rubbed Michael’s back that something horrible was clearly happening.

After prodding and asking for 30 minutes, I finally had to ask.  Even though I knew Mr. Gaga would kill me.

“Michael… can tell us whatever is bothering you.” I said slowly. I looked at him intensely.

“How about this? Does it rhyme with “Someone kouched my jeep?”

“MOM!!” Michael screeched.

“You are so inappropriate.” Mr. Gaga said shaking his head…..

I left at that point.  I couldn’t take it any more.

A half hour later, Michael confessed that that he was upset that he had accidentally broken one of his LEGOs, and that was what he was upset about.

Well, better safe than sorry….

So after all of this diligence to protect my children from child molesters, I was faced with quite a dilemma a couple of weeks ago at swimming lessons.  Anyone who knows me – is aware of my hatred of swimming lessons. This year I was faced with a brand new reason to hate them.

We started a new session a couple of weeks ago.  In the past, I would bring the boys with me into the women’s restroom after their lessons to change.  Seeing as they both grow like weeds, and Michael has body odor, it seemed slightly weird to walk in with them, but I have no choice!  They are seven and nine years old!  Why shouldn’t I be able to walk them through the bathroom?

girl in bathroom

Of course, mothers instantly were giving me filthy looks.

wigflip-saywhat (2)

“Hurry up and keep your eyes down.” I muttered under my breath as they changed in the bathroom stall.

The next week after their lesson was over, the boys flat-out refused to step foot in the women’s bathroom.

They had been mortified when the women in the bathroom had looked at them (and me) with disgust.

I looked at the men’s room door fearfully.

This looks very innocent....but who knows what's behind this door?

It looks very innocent….but who knows what’s behind this door?

“Mom, please! We have to go into the men’s room!” they pleaded, dripping in their wet bathing suits.

“Ok fine,” I conceded, “But stay together and keep your eyes down. If someone tries to touch you or look at you – run for your life.  It’s 5:15 right now.  You have five minutes to get changed and get back out here.  If you don’t come out then I am dialing 911.”

They agreed to the terms.

I paced outside the door. As the sixth minute approached they burst through the door.  They looked ashen.

“What’s wrong?” I shrieked.

They started walking towards the exit of the facility with shocked looks on their face.

“Did something happen?” I asked as we pushed open the glass doors to exit.

“YES!” Michael said in a hushed tone.

“Did someone try to touch your peep?” I demanded.

“NO MOM!!!” they screamed in unison.

“Were there people their with naked peeps?” I whispered as we approached our car.

“YES!” they answered.

“OH MY GOD!” I couldn’t believe that it had really happened. “I told you to keep your eyes down!”

“We did!” Michael explained, “But we just looked up and like this old man was naked and he was walking right towards us!”

“Mom – it was like I just looked up and a wrecking ball was coming right at me,” Sam said with despair.

“WHAT???!!!” I screamed.

“Yes Mom!! This old man got out of the shower and just walked out naked and his peep was out and it was huge!” Michael confirmed with despair.

I was speechless.

“Can you believe it?” I demanded of Mr. Gaga when we got home and relayed the story to him.

“Oh yeah, that’s what they do,” Mr. Gaga said unfazed. “I don’t know why.”

“WHAT THE HELL?” I screamed. “We have to quit swimming then!”

Mr. Gaga shrugged.

“They are going to drown!” I announced.

He shrugged again.

So that’s where we are. We are quitting swimming due to weird men’s bathroom etiquette.

I wasn’t aware of this phenomenon – but apparently weird old naked men in the locker room is par for the course and there’s nothing we can do about it.




The Buddy Bench

When you have a baby or sometimes two babies, your life is turned upside down.

I remember feeling as though I was living in a never-ending Groundhog’s Day filled with shitty diapers, emptying the dishwasher and Caillou.  I felt very alone.

I considered myself quite a cool woman.  I would NOT be in a playgroup!! I would NOT do a gym or music or French class with my baby! I would NOT socialize with that woman that breastfeed her toddler openly at the park!

Some of my rules stuck.  (Nobody wants to look at a huge toddler suck on your tit at the park, lady...)

But others…..not so much.

You find yourself wanting to talk to someone who shares similar interests (i.e losing baby weight, getting kid to sleep or eat, and ways to not go crazy) and can understand your feelings (i.e wanting to murder husband, wanting to sleep more than 3 hours at at a time, wanting children to leave you alone for at least the thirty seconds when you have to pee.)

When you venture out into the world alone with your children and are searching for someone to be your friend it can feel impossible.

My real friends were mostly in NY at the time I was having children.  While I had been the first to marry and buy a house in the suburbs and start having kids; they wisely were growing their superstar careers and shopping and dining in NYC.

I would take the kids to the library and come home crying.  I just couldn’t believe that while my friends were sipping Cosmos somewhere at happy hour, I was stuck in suburbia with women wearing elastic waistband and no makeup.

I distinctly remember one mom in particular that was always at the library with her three-year-old twins, whom she breastfed regularly while she spoke to other mothers.  The boys would just walk up to her and lift her shirt up and take a few sips and then run off to play.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Oh yes, and …..she kept them on little creepy human leashes.

Many of the moms were wearing clothing and shoes that I wouldn’t be caught dead in and dressed their children in clothing as equally offensive.  They spoke in weird high-pitched voices to their bratty children and to other mothers.  There were many children whose noses were running down their faces, or who’s diapers were clearly filled with poop and the moms would pretend not to notice while they chit-chatted.

Those were the days before an iphone could keep you busy – so I would have to play with my children in the pretend kitchen or read them books, or sit quietly on a chair and watch them interact with the other kids.

I was horrified.

Slowly but surely though, I opened myself up to people.  I was desperate.  I just needed to hear someone else’s voice.  I actually needed to hear my own voice speaking to another human being that was over the age of 3.

I soon realized that even a mom that thinks its okay to wear elastic waist band, or a mom that keeps her toddlers on a leash in public, might not be my best friend….but we all have one thing in common. We are all mothers.

We all feel guilty over the same stuff.  We have all pretended to read our child a book but read the first page and then the last page,paraphrased most of it, skipped a page or two because we are tired.   We have all let our kids watch a little bit of extra television on days we are at the end of our ropes.  We have all considered smothering our husband in the night with his pillowthought of packing a bag and driving away in the still of the night  been frustrated with our husbands and our lives.

When one mother invited me to be in her dreaded playgroup, I accepted.  I just figured I would be the “cool mom” amongst all of these strange women who talked about making their own baby food and wore yoga pants everyday but never did yoga.

Once I had it all sorted out in my mind, I started to interact more and meet more people.

cool mom

When I opened myself up to the world of mothers and accepted my fate – the universe heard me.

So I ended up making friends with random people in strange places.  One on the floor singing songs at a baby class at the library, one at the hairdresser, a few at the kid’s preschool, a bunch by joining my bookclub, a wife of a football friend of my husband, an old childhood friend rediscovered in the library….

But what if I had never opened myself up at all?

What if I didn’t know how to make a friend?

Well there’s going to be a generation of children in Goopville that are going to find out…

Recently I filled you all in about a local elementary school that has elected to utilize parent volunteers during recess to help “guide the children as they choose what to do during their whopping 20 minutes of playtime.  This was a choice made after many parents at this school voiced their concern that their children were not quite sure how to play and were unaware of many popular schoolyard games such as “four square” or “wall ball” and need an adult to teach them.

Apparently gently suggesting who they should play with and manipulating the playground is not enough for these menaces to society.  Now they have created something so outlandish and over the top…..

Even for Goopville this is crazy….

It’s called a “Buddy Bench.”

It’s a park bench that children can go sit on when nobody is playing with them.  It essentially alerts their peers that they have no friends.  It’s a “cry for help bench.”


“Can you believe it?” I implored Mr. Gaga after telling about this latest assault on childhood development.

“Well…it’s kind of nice…” he shrugged.

“Nice?!” I screeched.  “It’s not nice!! It’s stupid!! These kids will never know how to make a friend!! They will have zero social skills or coping mechanisms!”

“I guess….” he answered disinterestedly.

“Really?? There’s no BUDDY BENCH in real life!!” I yelled smartly.

“Well, yeah actually there is…..” he answered.


“It’s called “church.” he answered.

While he might have a point, I feel this is just a BAD idea for many reasons.

For starters, how much would your heart break if your poor innocent child placed herself on this bench from hell?  What if nobody came?? It’s really playing with fire.


And let’s not forget that – generally speaking – there’s no buddy bench in life, and their shouldn’t be! For God sakes – what would happen in the world if there were buddy benches throughout every stage of life?

And what does that do for someone’s self-esteem? How would we feel in college if we had to resort to the buddy bench?

"La, la...I am a sexy princess and I am sure someone will come over any minute to be my friend....."

“La, la…I am a sexy princess and I am sure someone will come over any minute to be my friend…..”

Also – how about the rest of us? What about those of us who know how to make friends and now we have to stop what we are doing because every two seconds there’s some poor soul sitting on a bench waiting for us to save them??

And how are we to know if they just want to sit down or if they are huge friendless douchebags?

wigflip-saywhat (1)

And what if you are one of the poor children who had a parent who hindered your development, and you never learned to make friends. You never learned to put yourself out there and try to play with someone new.  What if you become a young adult and you just sit on benches and hope for someone to notice you……

Everyone hates me....

Everyone hates me….

What if all of this loafing about on benches makes you even more upset than you were before?

I mean if you don’t make new buddies – this could make someone quite sad and possibly angry….

ozzy bench

What if you are a young mom at the end of her rope and you have no clue of how to make a new friend?  Should you just grab some wine and hit the bench??  How long will you be there before someone notices?

Somebody please be my friend....

Somebody please be my friend….

What if you put yourself onto the bench and some unsavory character comes along?  Are you obligated to this person now? Is this your new friend? I mean if you put yourself onto the bench -does that mean your open to any person that sits down?


Just when I think that Goopville has run out of bad ideas – this little town always comes up with something new and offensive!!!!



The Superbowl-A Green Light for Bad Behavior

I don’t really give two shits about football or the Superbowl.

My main focus of the whole event is that apparently we all are given a green light to eat an excessive amount of cheese and chips.

We all feel for some reason that because there are people competing in a football game on our television sets that we should pour queso dip all over our bodies and eat sandwiches that are bigger than our vehicles.  Why do we do this?

Because there are men running around that have trained for many hours and are athletically gifted – I feel it is my duty to eat this…

It makes no sense - if you think about it....

It makes no sense – if you think about it….

It seems as though – many individuals take the opportunity of this blessed event as a green light for all sorts of inappropriate behaviors.

Don’t forget I live in NEW ENGLAND!!

People completely lose their shit around here for the Patriots and for Tom Brady.

Today I was foolish enough to make a trip to the grocery store to pick up a few things.  On top of it being SUPERBOWL SUNDAY it is also the DAY BEFORE ANOTHER STORM, so needless to say the parking lot was a zoo.  When I finally found a spot I had to wait patiently for a woman to load up her SUV with her groceries.  It was taking her forever, so I took a closer look to see what she was trying to desperately to get into her trunk…

Oh I'll just wait here all day while you fill your entire car with Patriots balloons for no apparent reason....

Oh I’ll just wait here all day while you fill your entire car with Patriots balloons for no apparent reason….

When I got into the store- people were running up and down the aisles in complete panic mode, frantically tossing Fritos and dip in their cart with their left hand and milk and bread with their right hand.

I escaped with the essentials….cheese, milk, bread.

I will make a variety of bad foods that have very high calorie counts and  cry at the Star Spangled Banner, wait for Katy Perry to arrive, 

watch the commercials, watch the game with a small group of family members.

When I got back from the store I was so relieved to safely be in my home where nobody cares about the Patriots.  It is very hard to venture into the world on days like today and see the highly disturbing fashion faux pas that are occurring.

Most notably – there is nothing worse than women who wear football attire.   Now what on earth possesses these women to wear clothing that is designed to be worn by a man on a football field?  Is it to support your boyfriend or husband? And if so, does he find you attractive wearing a man’s sports uniform?  Have you considered that you might want to be a man?

Or is it because you want us all to know that you like Tom Brady and you are pretending that you are Gisele by wearing his shirt…..

A shirt that was one of millions manufactured in China and is now sold at Marshalls, and is fact NOT his actual shirt.

Is it because you think it will bring luck to you and inadvertently the team?  Do you think that by you putting a jersey on and making yourself look like a huge “dude” then it will send magic powers to Arizona and make your team win??

That’s just dumb.

Let’s ask this couple who watched the last time the Patriots were in the Superbowl in matching jerseys…

New England Patriots fans watch Super Bowl XLVI in Boston, MA

The football jersey in general is being abused by all sorts of individuals.  The jersey, once a mere piece of a uniform, has become something that everyone feels free to don.  There are many problems with this.

First of all, you do realize that you are not part of the team…so are you pretending that you are on the team??

Or are you wearing it to let everyone around you know that you like the Patriots? Because we don’t care actually.

Also – Why is your pet wearing one??

I mean is this dog an asshole??

I mean is this dog an asshole??

Let’s hope all of this jersey-wearing pays off for these lunatics….

I am off to eat my weight in cheese…..



Blizzard Etiquette – Friendly Reminder not to Lose your Sh*&

Everyone needs to just hold it together….I saw people displaying bad behaviors today…..

Here’s a friendly reminder of how to behave during bad winter weather – from our last blizzard in 2013….

Here in Connecticut we pretty much are at the point where we expect some sort of weather catastrophe every 2 months.

As usual, Blizzard Charlotte didn’t disappoint.

Gone are the days when there’s a snow storm and you stay home for a day, make a snowman, drink some hot chocolate and proceed with business as usual the next day.

Oh no – the nonsense began on Thursday – and school is closed tomorrow.

That will be DAY 4 of being indoors as a happy family.

Thursday and Friday morning were more storm preparation days when everyone was driving around like maniacs stockpiling food and gas hoarding to get ready for the blizzard.

I get it – it’s unpleasant and stressful, but people need to calm the fuck down.

The world is not ending.

Calm down people and stop being assholes.

Precipitation is not a green light for you to let loose all of your bad personality traits on strangers. Here are some rules:



Of course I was at the store with everyone else in the world on Thursday stocking up on food supplies for the weekend.  I was basically thinking snacks, lunch and dinner, maybe some brownies.

Lo and behold the shelves were bare, because people act like they are going to be stuck in their house for 6 months.  This was the bread aisle.


And then there was this….


I know that bread and milk were sold out – but now you are all going to live off of bananas? And who’s the wise guy that just left behind a plantain and a box of firecrackers???

When I got home with a plantain and a box of firecrackers, I turned on the local news and they were interviewing a woman while she loaded up her car with groceries and she had no less than 50 loaves of bread in her trunk!!



So after the grocery store was a bust I headed out to get gas.  After going to a couple of gas stations that ran out of gas, I landed at one that just had 6 huge lines.  It’s hard to pick which line to jump into – but I chose to get behind a guy that had a little car and he was in the middle of pumping, so I figured he would be quick.

He finished pumping, hung up the gas nozzle, pressed some buttons and then moseyed on into the gas station.  Cursing him, I glanced into my rearview to see if I could back up and switch lines, but I was blocked in.

We were all very pissed off.   When it’s the end of the world, anything can cause a riot.

After 15 minutes of waiting as more and more cars lined up behind me, he came out with a COFFEE!!!!

By the time he came out with his coffee - I had destroyed the gas station and flipped his car out of the way.....

By the time he came out with his coffee – I had destroyed the gas station and flipped his car out of the way…..



If it is Blizzard prep time and there is a gas line – you need to get your mid-afternoon coffee elsewhere, my friend.


My parents took this opportunity to go to their beach house before the storm “because they have a generator there.”  I tried to convince them that it was a bad idea but they don’t listen.

So of the 9000 households in the entire state of Connecticut that lost power, guess which town they were all in?

The town where my parent’s have their beach house of course!!

And the generator that my parents were so excited about? Oh yeah.. it broke.

Great idea!!!

After my mother told me this I called her back to check and see if they had found a solution.

“Well your father went out back and he got the generator going, but when the power went on in the house it exploded the television and now something’s burning in the house and we don’t know where…I have to go.” she hung up abruptly.

Later they ran out of gas for the generator because they had not planned properly and ended up nearly freezing to death.

While the “end of the world” people are insane – people who don’t prepare at all and make horrible choices that are unsafe are equally as disturbing.

Just sayin….


Once you are snowed in – my theory is that it is a good time to organize, clean and get some projects done that you never have time for.

If you are left for too long with nothing to do it’s not good for you.  We went sledding today and a friend told me that her friend was going so crazy in the house with his wife and children that he signed up for Ashley Madison!!!!

I heard from friends and neighbors that were intoxicated for 3 days straight.

This is a perfect time to weed through the hoarding.

While I busily cleaned out Sam’s closet and shelves, I was knee-deep in LEGO’s and books when Sam casually mentioned that Mr. Gaga was snoring downstairs.

Not on my watch, buddy.  Too much down-time, sleeping, eating and drinking can lead to depression, fatness and divorce.



Mr. Gaga would actually throw me into a burning fire to help strangers.  His “helpfulness” is a problem that we have been working on.

So it was shocking to me when our snowblower broke and we shoveled for 5 hours and nobody cared to help.

People with snowblowers just waved, zipped through their entire driveway and then dusted off their coats and headed indoors.

Are you kidding me??  Our cars were covered with so much snow that it took approximately 2 hours just to get them out.


We worked from 8:30 am until 12:30 to get this far…meanwhile our neighbor had done his entire driveway, dug out 4 cars and was sipping a scotch watching us out the window….



When you live in Antarctica and everything you own is covered with 3 feet of snow, you lose sight of what’s ok and not ok.

For example, after 4 delirious hours of back-breaking work – the vehicle above looked like it was in good shape to us.

At the time, this is what we actually saw when we looked at it:


So I understand how you can lose steam and get confused about what is appropriate, but you must completely uncover your windshield and car roof before departing.  It is a must.  I think it’s even the law.

If you have dug out your driveway and car – just take a minute and at least dust off the windshield.

My neighbor decided to leave today with about 3 inches of windshield space clear.


He just peeled out of his driveway with van like this….

This is not advisable.


There’s nothing worse than having a broken back from shoveling, having to watch your neighbors smoke cigars in their freshly snowblown driveways, knowing that your insane parents are living in a cold, powerless house that may or may not be on fire and then having your wretched children through a snowball at you.

Snowmen, balls, and forts are all Mr. Gaga territory.  The end.


Back in the day, children had common sense and inherently knew enough not to walk back up the middle of the hill while 30 children are waiting to go down on their sleds.

Not today.

We took the kids sledding and several children (one that was especially bad) would just walk right up the hill so nobody could go and then she would sit her bratty ass right down in front of the kids that were waiting and take another turn!!!

I had 3 days indoors at this point so I was loudly disagreeing with this behavior.

“Is she fucking kidding me right now?” I asked Mr. Gaga loudly amidst parents and young children.

His eyes bulged out of his head.  “BE QUIET!” he muttered.

That was the first time.

Then she did it AGAIN!!!

“What is she a dick?? Where are her parents?” I demanded.

(*In today’s world – on top of the children being little assholes the parents are all on the hill with the children micromanaging the sledding operation.)

Mr. Gaga took the kids and sleds and diplomatically moved to a different area of the hill, before any more trouble brewed.

Thank God – because things were about to get ugly.


Because Mr. Gaga kind of steered me away from the brat on the hill, he thought  a crisis was averted.  However, what he failed to realize was that this town and in particular this hill was filled with little and big assholes.

Eventually it wasn’t just one little girl going up the wrong way…it was everyone!!!


See how the children wait patiently at the top while 12 fucking twat-kids walk up the hill in front of them?

Finally, one of the kids couldn’t take it anymore and she went flying down the hill and took out a couple of kids.  Well, when that happened suddenly a dad went running down the hill to help his injured child and start yelling up the hill.

He was holding his enormous (too old to not know better 12-year-old daughter) and yelling at the whole crowd.


Oh really you moron? You just noticed?


It’s really sad that today’s society is so dumb that this has to be on my list of rules.

At the end of all the sledding torture we were getting ready to leave and the safest way to get to the bottom of the hill and our car was to sled down.

I got ready to go.  I was on a saucer and Mr. Gaga was on a toboggan ahead of me, but we couldn’t go because there was a mother in the middle of the hill who had stopped midway up to TEXT!!

Yes – so I was waiting for her to finish her TEXT and move…but she didn’t.

“Just go.” I said to Mr. Gaga.

“We are going to knock her over,” he answered.

“Good – she deserves it.” I answered.

Off he went purposely veering his sled away from the texter.

Off I went gunning for her with all my might.

As I came about two feet away she looked up and took one step back, enough so I could only kick her lightly with my boot.

“Oops,” she said as I sped by.

Right….ooops lady….whatever helps you sleep at night.


Adios Connecticut

A year ago when I was depressed and drinking vats of onion soup during storm after storm in snowy Connecticut, I decided to book a long weekend in Mexico for the following year.

That long weekend was last weekend.

After the hustle bustle of the holidays it was here before we knew it.

We were to leave on Friday so I dedicated Thursday to packing, doing laundry and shaving and waxing my entire body.

I went to the gym in the morning and came home and started cleaning and organizing still sweaty in my dirty gym clothes.

After having children, my personal grooming has taken a turn for the worse, so getting my body ready was on my to-do list.

Shaving has become something that is done mostly for special occasions or bathing suit season.  In between, things can get pretty dicey.

Mr. Gaga famously made his feelings clear on this topic when he grew a mustache and I was unhappy about it.

“I didn’t sign up to be married to someone with a mustache.” I grumbled.

“Yeah – I know! Neither did I… ” he answered.

So needless to say – the amount of prepping this body needed to be beach-ready was outrageous.

While I was upstairs getting organized I heard a loud noise, but I just stayed focused on my task at hand.



After a couple of hours I started addressing the laundry.

I opened the basement door so that I could head downstairs to throw a load of towels into the washing machine.  My ears were instantly met with the sound of gushing water and the air felt humid and steamy.  I ran down the stairs and stepped into about four inches of warm water at the bottom.

I quickly established that our water heater had burst two hours ago.  That was that noise I had heard and disregarded.  Hot water had been gushing into our finished basement for hours and our lives were destroyed.

I looked at all of the exposed pipes and tried my best to shut off what I believed to be the water pipe that was shooting water into the heater while simultaneously leaving voice mails on Mr. Gaga’s phone.   When it was clear that he would never answer his phone I called my Dad who suggested getting the wet-vac.

I set up smoke signals in an SOS pattern and still no response from my knight in shining armor – so I got the wet-vac and started to vacuum up the water that was never-ceasing.

I started the machine and it was filled in 30 seconds with 5 gallons of water and then I realized that I was then responsible for picking up the 5-gallon container and lifting it into the sink to empty out.

With my back broken and the water still gushing – I did it again.

And again.

And again.

There’s just nothing that can prepare you for these type of events.  When you get married and you buy your first home you think everything will just be wedded bliss and delights.  You picture yourself framing pictures and buying throw pillows and duvets….

You will wear a perfect apron and mix up a batch of homemade muffins in a perfect kitchen with perfect hair with shaved armpits….

Life will be dreamy and perfect.

Life will be dreamy and perfect.

You just know that you will maintain control and your home and life will be like a picture straight out of the Pottery Barn catalog….

There’s nothing that will prepare you for the worst.

There’s nothing that will prepare you for spending a day in your basement like this….


I continued my back-breaking work of emptying out the wet-vac.


Mr. Gaga returned my call.


By the time he came home to help I was delirious….

By then my entire spine was permanently damaged and my arm and leg hair and moustache grown significantly.

We finally got as much water up as we could.  There was no hot water.  We hadn’t packed.  I had B.O.

So we did what any forward-thinking people would do.

We took cold showers, we threw as much as we could into bags and we got the fuck out of Goopville.

And we drank Coronas and fruity drinks in hot tubs for four days and tried to forget what we had left behind.

There's nothing that a stiff cocktail and a good book in the sun can't cure....

There’s nothing that a stiff cocktail and a good book in the sun can’t cure….

Mexico was delightful.   Life was grand.

Then we came back to a moldy basement and no hot water.

Luckily the dreaded swimming lessons are upon us.  The day we came back as we headed into the swimming pool area, I whispered into the kids’ ears.

“This is swimming lesson and also your bath….”

We are getting a new water heater tomorrow.  We ripped up all the floors and walls in the basement.  My leg hair has grown back.  And this is coming tomorrow…

blizzBack to the harsh realities of my real life….





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