Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
As a veteran of three, yes three, c-sections, I am no stranger to invasive abdominal procedures. But, when she began to tell me about what they were going to do and how they were going to do it, even I felt my uterus cringe.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Just like “coffee is for closers” and “greed is good,” “DPTB” is one of those stupid Hollywood-driven, testosterone infused euphemisms that makes me want to scream! It’s 2009 for fuck’s sake! So why do I constantly feel that I have to arm my vagina for battle a la Braveheart and prepare for the worst every time I set foot on a car lot or field estimates for work done on the house? Let’s face it, it’s the penis factor. Be it big, small or plastic, a woman can’t get a deal on a car without one.
Guys, let's get all the Freud allusions out of the way, this rant isn’t fueled by “penis envy,” “arm-pit hair envy,” “back hair envy” or any other sweaty, smelly “male-made” explanations for smart, savvy females.
But I digress.... all of this just reminds me of the long and protracted car buying process that we went through at this time last year. My husband - who believes that I should learn to do things like this without his help, like negotiate a car deal, jump start a battery, pee standing up, etc. because the sheer stress of living with me is taking years off his life or so he claims - armed me with stats and web site comps and wanted me to check out a pre-owned vehicle with very low mileage.
There I was, 20 miles from home with 3 children in tow, an oddity at the dealership. I don’t know what they thought, but after 15 minutes of loudly telling the kids “Yes, we’re here to buy a car,” I had to go over one of the salesmen to get his attention. He was an older gentleman and looked very perplexed. You know he was wondering what the deal was. Where is the husband? Is she divorced? Or is she the "guy" in the all-female relationship? Bottom line, they were all wondering, where is the penis?
And when you don’t have the penis, you are expected to sit there and smile and be nice. Feign interest in the man’s diatribes on the heated seats and make-up mirror, as you glean info on the vehicle’s service history and list of prior owners. Nod when he shows you how to set the child locks, open up the back hatch and change the position of the driver’s seat.
I couldn’t even get past my first objective, to negotiate the sticker price. The sales manager came over angrily to discuss the discrepancies with their price and my offer. “Isn’t this a negotiation? Isn’t this just a jumping off point to meet in the middle?” I had said. Apparently not, because after 2 hours of mind numbing small talk, I walked. Frustrated, I drove home and called my husband to recap the entire episode. “Sorry, looks like you learned a tough lesson: they don’t pitch the bitch,” he said. Then it hit me like a freight train, the bastard knew the deal was not going to happen. No penis, no deal. He had sent me ahead to do all of the leg work, to get all the right info, so that he could take it and his penis to another dealership and get the car. What a dick!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Now, this gushing review isn’t because he’s nostalgically reliving the series in reruns, it’s because he’s watching it all for the first time.
So the question is -- where was he at 9:00 p.m. on Thursday nights from 1989 to 1998? I mean, he knows a lot of people, but there is no way he was booked with viewings, wakes or sitting shiva the whole time....
I slinked out of the room to find my brother to compare “weird dad” notes and leave the man to watch the 11:00 p.m. episode wondering what could possibly top the wackiness we just observed. While his behavior was a bit odd, it was no where near the experiences I have had watching television with my husband’s octogenarian grandparents (the same ones he recently visited in Scottsdale) who frequently mute commercials, switch between watching "Rumpole of the Bailey" on PBS and "Radio Days" marathons on VHS, and often watch the reflection of the television in a large mirror on the opposite side of the room, because they refuse to move their seat to a more conventional place.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
After the feedback I have gotten from my recent slacker mom post, I was happy to see that Angie Tempura, the Bitch Pleeze blogger from SNL’s Weekend Update, was at it again this past Saturday. With her laptop at the ready and venti frappacino cup in hand, I think my girl got it all wrong though, when dissing the movie “A Haunting in
As a Connecticut resident, I can tell you first hand that there is plenty to be scared about in
Top Ten Scariest Things About
10. The inordinate amount of “Life is Good” apparel per child per household.
9. Suffering economy is making people do crazy things, like mow their own lawn, do their own taxes, and inject their own Botox for the first time.
7. If little Dylan doesn’t have a “Life Coach” by age six, kiss the “Ivies” goodbye.
6. If you come back tan from spring break in the
5. Upon crossing the state line, there are signs saying "No Jacket, Socks with Loafers -- No Service."
2. Two words….Regis Philbin.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Excited by his "extensive knowledge" of world leaders of the peace movement (and eager for a chance to both further humiliate his competitive older sister and impress the growing audience of adults on the tour), he next confidently strode up to a lifesize wooden bust nearby. “I'll bet you don't know who this is,” he proclaimed, with just enough dramatic pause. “It’s George Washington Carver, the inventor of the peanut!” A momentary hush came over the congregation of adults and children in the room -- which was finally broken by poorly stifled giggles from our 10 year old daughter. My son was shocked to learn he was excitedly pointing to none other than the likeness of Mahatma Ghandi.
Gandhi said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” While George Washington Carver said, “Life requires thorough preparation - veneer isn't worth anything.”
In the end, I suppose they are two sides of the same coin: while it’s easy to love peanut butter and hate veneer, I guess it ain't easy being a pacifist.