Kinky Foodplay!

Tonight at the Cold Stone Creamery, I noticed several of their posters on the walls. All of them featured a dreamy looking broad with ice cream held up against her face, and the caption, "Sweet Creamy Indulgence".











Surely I'm not the only person who finds this a little dirty?

Spotted at the SuperCuts

The boy was getting pretty shaggy, and wanted to look like this:

So I took him to get it done.

While we were waiting, we sat down next to two boys in their early teens, maybe 14. They were fun to listen to, talking about this and that girl, who had the worst haircut, what they would do to their hair if they could, all sorts of important boy stuff. Very cute and fun to listen to. The subject briefly turned to Clay Aiken and his sexuality, Lance Bass and his coming out, and then one of them put on his headphones and started flipping through tracks on the cd player. When he found what he wanted he sat back in his seat, contentedly staring at the ceiling. I could hear the tinny music coming out of his headphones ... that can't be right? No.... nooooooo way... holy shit. IT IS!!

"Whoooooooooooooooa I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the HEAT with somebody. Yeah I wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me".

Wow.

Next, one of the ladies getting a trim was done and came over to pay. She had been droning on in the background the whole time, but now I started listening. In a horrid, nasal, monotone, she was going on about her photography as she paid. She took her money out of a tote with Lady and the Tramp airbrushed onto the side, telling the poor guy over and over that her photography was really improving. She continued to talk all the way out her door, with me, my son, the two boys and the hairdresser staring after her, mouths agape.

She was barely out the door, when a boy in his late teens wearing his pants around his knees and a cocked visor came out of the Subway next door, yelling behind him, "don't ruin my night then, you stupid bitch". A young girl came storming out after him screaming. As he turned back towards her the boys next to me started yelling for someone to shut the propped open door and the hair guy came sprinting over to close it.

I turned to the boys, who were looking at me sheepishly. One of them told me "I just didn't want to have to break that up, but I would if it got any worse". Somewhat against my will, a wave of maternal instinct washed over me and I smiled at them and told them it would be better if they stayed inside. By this time though, the loving couple outside had made up and were walking back into Subway with their arms around each other.

Next came in an oversized yet still good looking hispanic man. Goodlooking except for the quarter sized patch of straggly, inch long, sparse hairs sprouting from his chin. And his wife, butt ugly but with probably the prettiest hair I've ever seen, thick and shiny and curly. She began speaking in his general direction and his eyes glazed over in a way that spoke volumes about the years and comfort they had between them.

Now it was Robb's turn to get cut, and as I got up to go, the boys told me in unison, "have a nice night ma'am". I really wanted to hate them for that, but I couldn't. Who ever said the younger generations are going to shit? I don't believe it.

A swank new haircut and some awesome people watching? It was a great night.

Love Notes from the 5th Grade

My 11 year old son is quite prone to falling madly in love at the drop of a hat. In the spirit of a true tortured artist, he writes poetry for each new girl. I usually rescue them from the trash, and have been keeping them all for a later date (his wedding, maybe). But I decided that to deprive the world of this poetry would be a crime, so here is

Anna's Poem

For as long as I can remember, I've been looking for someone like you.

Someone nice not mean.

Someone generous not selfish.

When I first laid my eyes on you

I felt nice inside

So I bid you adieu

I shall see you in the future

Nice & generous Anna

How to Never, Ever Get Laid

Last November, my friend Joe was in town for business and I took him to a bar in Scottsdale. For those of you that may not know, Scottsdale is pretty much Barbietown. The bar I took him to is especially beloved by the most annoying, fake blonde, fake tan, identical girls and the most annoying, baseball cap and flipflip wearing fratboys you can imagine. Joe is one of the crassest people I know, and then there's me, who is anything but a blonde barbie. Scene set.

We were sitting outside pounding back drinks and enjoying some delightful chips and salsa, and of course halfway through my first drink I had to pee. I made my way inside, and when I came out of the bathroom there was a guy standing and waiting for me. He was about my height, dark blonde with a goatee, navy blue cableknit sweater and pleated khakis. All in all think of Chandler Bing circa 2000. He came towards me and said, "Hi, my name is Dave... I know this is really forward but is that guy out there your boyfriend?" I told him no, but that I did have a boyfriend at home. He said, "Oh, ok, well thanks for your time, and you should know that you're really beautiful".

Ok, great, thanks, always nice to hear that, right? I rejoined Joe and forgot about it. But owing to my marble-sized bladder, I was back at the bathroom in no time, only to find Dave waiting for me again. "I'm sorry... I know you have a boyfriend, but couldn't we go out to lunch sometime? There's no harm in lunch, right? No strings, I'd just like to get to know you". I said, "thank you, but I'd better get back out to my friend".

After that, I just decided to hold off on the bathroom trips, but jackass Joe had to go next. He predicted that I'd get jumped by Dave the second he left our table, and sure enough, Dave pounced almost as soon as Joe turned his back. This time he was prepared with a note.

Joe was nice enough to come back quickly, and proceeded to stare daggers at him until he finally left our table. We left shortly after that, and needless to say, I never called Dave for dinner. Sometimes I wonder, though.... do you think maybe he printed up like 20 of those notes every night before he went out?

The Language of Mommy

If I came up to you and said, "Hey, remember that movie from your friend that we really liked with that lady on a train and there was a mean dog and she used to be in the middle of that gameshow with two guys?" I bet you would not remember that movie.

But that's exactly what my son said to me tonight. Because I know my son, and I know how he thinks, I was able to have the following thought process occur:

Gameshow? Two guys? Lady in the middle? Ah, Whoopie Goldberg on Hollywood Squares. Hmmm... movie from a friend? Ah, Oscar gave me Neverwhere and Whoopie isn't in it but that lady does look like her and there's no train but they do go in a subway car, and there's no mean dog but there is a charging bull.

I said "Neverwhere?" and he nodded, satisfied, and went to finish brushing his teeth.

Sometimes little things remind me that (for now, at least) nobody knows my baby like I do, that that I'm not always half bad at this mothering business.

Ouchies

Sometimes you learn hard lessons in unexpected places.

Today, I learned that a woman over a certain age (lets say... 27) should never, ever, look at herself in a magnifying mirror under flourescent lighting.

Vanity is a weird thing. I used to be such a mouse, I thought I was hideous. Finally, at some point in my early twenties I found out this wasn't true, went to the other extreme, and fell in love with myself. I know now that I wasn't as great as I thought, but after a whole life of feeling homely I really just ran with the vanity. I had a few shining years where I felt beautiful and sexy all the time. Of course, it ended too soon and the wrinkles came and the pores clogged and the skin got less firm and even the pounds started showing up in weird places.

So other than avoiding flourescent lighting like the plague, what's a girl to do? Sometimes I think I will end up that sad movie cliché (is it Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane that I'm thinking of? Ooh, or Ellen Burstyn in Requiem for a Dream)... you know the one where an old hag goes crazy, and spends the rest of her life caking on makeup, smearing lipstick all over her mouth, looking into a mirror and seeing herself as the most beautiful girl in the land. To make it really good I guess I should also prattle on to myself about all the gentleman that will be courting me at the ball tonight. Maybe someone will hire a nurse who will sit quietly in the corner to make sure I don't harm myself, and she will be kind enough to chat and agree with me, until it's time to feed me my "vitamins" and put me to bed.

That actually sounds pretty fun. Maybe I'll start tomorrow.

The Shoe Theory

Because this has never been published before, and Michelle and I always meant to. Finally, at long last, we bring you the Shoe Theory:


Like shoes, you will have several men in your life. It's important to put some thought into their selection, as other people will notice them! Following are just a few of the styles you may find.

The Slippers: That wonderfully comfy pair that you can't bring yourself to get rid of, although you'd die if anyone else saw them!

The Super Hot Strappy Sandals: Can you even believe how beautiful? Christ, they hurt though. So regretfully, you put them away, knowing that even as goodlooking as they are, you just can't continue to subject yourself to them. Unfortunately, chances are good you'll come across them in the back of your closet one night when you're desperate, try them again and then remember why you got rid of them the first time.

The Cowboy Boots: Oh come on, every girl needs to pony up at least once in her life with a good old pair of shitkickers!

The Flipflops: Sometimes you just need to slip into something easy.

Jellies: Oh my God, can you believe you ever wore those??

The What's the Problems?: They look good. They're pretty comfortable. You always get compliments on them. But somehow, no matter how hard you try, they just don't go with anything you have.

Payless Shoes: For those occassions when you know you'll just need them the one time.

Designer Shoes: They cost you a lot. They're hip and trendy. They make you look great. But they take forever to break in, and by the time you do, they're so last fall.

The Classic: They're also expensive, and take a while to break in, but you're willing to invest the time and money because you know that once you do you'll have them for life. Only problem is, they're impossible to come by.

The Green Shoes: Where did you get those amazing shoes?? I am so jealous!!

The Perfect Pair of Black Shoes that Look Great, Go with Everything AND Feel Good: All you can do is hope you don't wear them out too fast.

Sad and Melancholy to Infinity

Is that how it goes?

Something that used to be my favorite:

-Get the kid to sleep (8 pm)
-Pick some mellow, yet moving music (8:03 pm)
-Make some coffee (8:30 pm)
-Chug a cup (8:34 pm)
-Clean like a crazy-ass motherfucker (8:35 pm)
-Get distracted by the imaginary audience watching my twirls across the living room (8:45 pm)
-Start showing off with some killer pirohuettes (8:53 pm)
-Fall down due to the fact that I never could do a proper pirohuette (8:54 pm)
-Lie on the floor, staring at the ceiling, daydreaming and enjoying the music (8:55 pm)
-Fall asleep (12:00 am)
-Wake up and stumble to bed (5:00 am)

Last night I was again the Prima Ballerina of my living room. Which is still a mess.