I got an email the other day from someone asking me if, by any chance, I was ALSO the author of a different blog. Like, a blog beyond any of the other four frillion sites I contribute to, maintained under someone else's name and life story, all sneaky-seekrit-identity-like. I cannot even imagine having the copious amounts of free time one would need to pull off something like that, and also the organizational skills. Like, is this the blog where I'm a boring suburban mother-of-two with a penchant for sucker-punching my readers in the vaginas at the end of every post, like "funny funny Star Wars run-on-sentence funny BAM! EMOTIONAL KAPOW! WHO'S CRYING AT WORK NOW, SUCKAH?" Or is this the blog where I'm a fabulously carefree 20-something in Los Angeles who blogs about all the interesting people she sleeps with and spells everything The British Way, because she thinks it makes her sound fancy? Or is this the blog where I'm a 40-something dude who posts a lot of Stargate fanfic and bitches about all the major dramazzz at this year's ComicCon? I AM SO CONFUSED. I DON'T KNOW HOW SUPERMAN DOES IT. Anyway. So I get this email and...
So help me, I'm potty-training the baby. I KNOW. Okay, so far it's technically been more of an exploratory mission to gauge potential interest, but early results appear to be promising, though the paper towel usage readouts have been...lengthy. Also: damp. But still. I think we're on the verge of a breakthrough, because the kid's got heart. He's hungry. He wants it. Eyes on the big boy pants prize. His coach is just having a hard time with the fancy iPhone app she got to help her with the timing. Also: keeping her business/sports metaphors consistent. Obviously, this is not a process I shall be extensively documenting, but here is a photo that I believe demonstrates that yes, I am fully aware of how insane I sound right now: WAT. IS THIS WEIRD? THERE'S A KID WITH NO PANTS ON OVER THERE, LEAVE ME ALONE.
MEET MAIL SLOT. IS EVIL. IS MY NEMESIS. OMGOMGAAAAAHHHHRRRRFFFFFFFFFOMG PERIMETER BREACH. PAPER FALLS FROM SKY. THE APOCKOLIPS IS NOW. AM CLEARLY LAST LINE OF DEFENSE. I GOT YOU GLOSSY JUNK MAIL OF DOOM. SECOND WAVE! HOLD THE LINE! MY GOD, IT'S A CATALOG! WILL KILL US ALL! OH THE HUGE MANATEE! I EAT YOUR CREDIT CARD STATEMENT. I EAT IT UP. Epilogue: She dragged a dental visit reminder postcard about two feet to the left before getting bored, then went upstairs and took a nap. *** This post was sponsored by Milk-Bone and is my final contribution to the It's Good To Give Series. Thanks for the good times, Milk-Bone. And the memories. And the monies. Check out their Canine Assistants program on Facebook, which helps people with disabilities and get involved by sharing photos of your own dog on the Milk-Bone Flickr stream.
WELCOME TO MAH BOO DWAR, PEOPLES. (YAWN.) YOO KNOW, IS GETTING DIFFICULT TO KEEP YOU ENTERTAINED WITH PHOTOS OF ME ACKUALLY DOING THINGS. I DON'T DO MANY THINGS. I MOSTLY DO LOTS OF THIS. AND THIS. SOMETIMES THIS, IF UR NASTY. I REGRET MY LIFE CHOICES. OKAY IS IMPORTANT SEVENTH-NAP TIME NOW. GOING WAY. BYE. *** This post is sponsored by Milk-Bone as part of the "It's Good To Give" series. Check out their Canine Assistants program on Facebook, which helps people with disabilities and get involved by sharing photos of your own dog on the Milk-Bone Flickr stream.
SIGH. YOUGUYS. I TIRED. SO VERY, VERY TIRED. MOAR CHILDREN IN HOUSE THAN USUAL TODAY. THEY CALL IT PLAYDATE. NO LIKE. IS VERY LOUD WITH SHRIEKING. ALSO NEW CHILD SMELLS LIKE STICKY. YET I NOT ALLOWED TO LICK NEW STICKY CHILD. WOE. I STAY HERE INSTEAD WHOLE TIME SO THERE. OH HEY DID I HEAR SUMBODY SAY SNACK? SUMTHING ABOUT A SNACK? OH HEY GOTTA GO EXTRA CHILDREN MEAN EXTRA SNACKS AND EXTRA CRUMBS I LOVE PLAYDATES BYE *** This post is sponsored by Milk-Bone as part of the "It's Good To Give" series. Check out their Canine Assistants program on Facebook, which helps people with disabilities and get involved by sharing photos of your own dog on the Milk-Bone Flickr stream.
SHH. HIDING. WAT. SUMTIMES U WANT SUM SUN, BUT NOT TOO MUCH SUN. YOONO? WATEVER. JUS JELUS, PROBABLY. THIS IS THE BEST IDEA I'VE EVER HAD. STILL KIND OF HOT THO. SENSING FLAW. HMM. THAT DRAIN THING LOOKS LIKE NICE PLACE FOR WHICH TO BE STICKING MY HEAD IN. ALSO: SHADY, COOL. To be continued... This is another sponsored Milk-Bone post, part of the It's Good To Give series. These were supposed to be weekly but a snafu meant Thursday's post had go up Monday instead but then this one was always supposed to go up today and...and...nobody really cares about this twice-weekly thing as much as I do, I'm guessing. Anyway! Milk-Bone invites you to check out their Canine Assistants program. Share photos of your little sunbeam dog at the Facebook group or Flickr stream.
You know what this week needs? Waffles. It needs some waffles. WAT. WAT U SAY. U SAY WAFFLE THAT'S A WAFFLE O GREAT DAY IN THE MORNING WAFFLE! NO WAFFLE! WAFFLE! stupidwaffleperson gonna gonnaflippin getdatwaffle HYSTERICAL DOG SNEEZING INTERLUDE ETC. SUCCESSORY INSPIRATIONAL PRINT, THEME: INVISIBLE PERSEVERANCE CAN ALMOST. TASTE. WAFFLE. Oh, hello. I would also like to submit my sincere interest in hazzing dat waffle. IS LIKE KING SOLOMON OR SUMTHING. WOULD ALSO HAVE CEPTED SPLITTING BAYBEE. *snarf* And FIN. As you could probably guess from all the Milk-Bone ads and this here logo thing, this post is sponsored by Milk-Bone. It'll be part of a "It's Good to Give" series this month (so get ready for MOAR CEIBA YAY). Check out their Canine Assistants program, which helps people with disabilities and get involved by sharing photos of your own dog on the Milk-Bone Flickr stream.
WHAT UP, BITCHES? LOOK WHO SNAGGED THE FIRST POST OF 2010. I KNOWRITE? SHE SAYS THIS IS CALLED "THROWING A DOG A BONE." I R NOT GET NO BONE YET. STILL. IS NICE TO BE PHOTOGRAPHED FROM ANGLE OTHER THAN "INADVERTENT BUTT IN BACKGROUND." CEPT NOT FAN OF CLOSE-UPS WHERE U CAN SEE ALL THE GRAY HAIR I GOT AFTER THAT TIME I ATE THE FERTILIZER AND ALMOST DIED, NOT TO BE ALL DRAMZ ABOUT IT. BUT HEY AT LEAST I R NATURAL REDHEAD UNLIKE SUM PEOPLE AROUND HERE WHAT WHAT YEAH I SAID IT. SHE DESERVES IT THOUGH. PUT ME ON DIET, TELLS SMALL THINGS TO STOP GIVING ME WAFFLES. THEY DON'T LISTEN TO HER EITHER, LIKE ME. HA HA YAP YAP YAP. AM AMPLE, YET POINTY. RUB MAH BELLEH. WAFFLES! OKAY I TIRED NOW BYE. THIS TIME BUTT IS ON PURPOSE.
Portrait of misery, and a dog who could not give less of a shit, please just make that thing stop whining already. So Ezra is either teething again -- canines? is it too early for those? my children seem to sprout teeth at a hyper-accelerated schedule, as most of Ezra's playmates have like, three teeth and he's sitting in his high chair expertly gnawing on a Porterhouse with his back molars, and expresses his affection for people by trying to eat them -- or he might just need to poop. Yes, it's a real medical mystery over here. Symptoms include truncated naps, general fetchiness, insatiable appetite for pot roast. Oh, and this. This? I do not mind so much. In fact, I think it's time for some more of this, since he looks like he's about 30 seconds away from falling asleep fast first in his pot roast and peas. He's all smelly and meatgreasy. Delicious. PS. Don't forget to enter the Shutterfly contest by Monday morning. Since yes, it requires ACTUAL EFFORT AND THINGS, your odds of ACTUAL WINNING are really good. Plus, it's fun to snoop through y'all's photo books. They're like medicine cabinets, in a way. PPS....
And all. Is right. With the world. Once again. (Dumb dog.) (Welcome home, Mitten.)