The Princess & the Pantyhose (aka Blogher '08)

I lugged about 10 pounds worth of camera and lenses to Blogher, and the only photos I have in my possession to share with y'all are these two, taken with Kristen's iPhone. During our impromptu Floor Party in the pantyhose department at Macy's: After realizing that I was simply not getting nearly enough attention, I decided to have a dramatic fainting spell en route to the shoe department portion of the Blogher cocktail party. (For anyone who wasn't there and is thinking...Macy's? Shoe department? Cocktail party? What? Yeah, I don't really understand either, and I was both THERE and SOBER.) The party started out in Handbags, and I started out very horrified by the sight of hummus and various hors d'oeurves plates perilously close to the Marc Jacobs, I was soon distracted by this vague feeling that Oh Shit, I've Possibly Gone And Overdone It, and started meekly asking people... Read more →

Out Californee Way

My Internet died yesterday morning, very suddenly, but I didn't think it was anything unusual -- I get bumped off our wireless router occasionally and it's never anything some random plug-jiggling or power-cycling won't fix -- but yesterday was different. I couldn't get back on. I power-cycled everything from the router to my laptop to the refrigerator two rooms over and still, no Internet. I sent some frantic emails from my iPhone -- helpless-sounding ones to my husband ("can I like...plug something into the wall? all old school and shit? does the Internet still sometimes work like that?") and profanity-laden ones to everybody else ("MAH LIMBS HAVE BEEN REMOVED! I NEED WIKIPEDIA! ALSO HOW DO YOU SPELL SCHADENFREUDE?") And then my phone's internet capabilities died in the late afternoon, as if a black cloud of non-connectivity had settled over the entire house, and I was completely lost and unable to... Read more →

Night of the Meatloaf

Last night, I sat alone in a corner booth of a fast-food burrito joint, with black mascara streaks all over my face. It was awesome, as you can probably imagine. Jason sent me an email in the afternoon to tell me there was a work happy hour he had to go to, but he wouldn't be too late. I sent him an email reminding him that, in typical end-of-the-week fashion, we had no food in the house, so could he pick something up before he came home? Burritos from Chipotle would be good, I suggested. Mmmm, Chipotle, I thought, after hitting send. Chipotle would be very, VERY good. And so I waited. I fed Noah his dinner, lamented the lack of ANYTHING ELSE EDIBLE in the house, at least anything edible that wouldn't 1) turn my stomach or 2) spoil my appetite for the sure-to-be delicious burrito that would arrive... Read more →

The Cider Fridge Rules

Camera status: saved! A dry micro-shammy thing that was probably purchased off an infomercial many moons ago, back when I used to stumble home from bars and watch infomercials 'til morning -- damn, what a wild, crazy diamond I was back then -- lifted the crayon off the screen in about two minutes flat. The viewfinder was a tad more difficult, since Noah managed to really mash the crayon in there, but with a little help from a revolutionary new product (order now and get DOUBLE YOUR ORDER!) called a Q-tip, I was able to clean that up as well. I possibly should have tried this, or you know, ANYTHING AT ALL before turning to the Internet, but...well, problem-solving is not my forte. I am not an Everyday Household Products As Practical Solutions Viking. I prefer to 1) panic, and 2) leave the problem for someone else to solve, lest... Read more →

A Story That I Will Never Ever Tell Anyone, Except Perhaps the Entire Internet

I just left a comment on a friend's blog -- seriously, like five minutes ago -- and the comment involved one of Those Stories. Those Stories are the stories that are too embarrassing to tell on my own blog. Obviously, I don't have many of Those Stories, because I don't have much shame. It's been well-established that I am a thumping idiot who regularly assaults the very idea of human dignity, so why hold back further evidence to the blog's thesis? That's just not how I do things around here. I am way scientific. Occasionally I meet people and realize that wow, it IS kind of awkward when I'm all, "So what's your dog's name?" and they're all, "I remember the time your dog jumped into your toilet! That was hilarious!" But I usually get over that, and chances are even if you DON'T read my blog you've heard the... Read more →

My TiVo Suggests Tylenol PM

Whenever a great big natural disaster or big tragedy-laden news story hits a blogger's general area, they inevitably get worried comments and emails from readers -- particularly if they haven't updated in a few days -- emails of the "are you okay? is your house okay? is it on fire? washed away by molten lava? and I saw on the news that someone was shot at a mall that I think is near your house and they didn't give any names and omg, YOU WEREN'T SHOT AT HOT TOPIC, WERE YOU?" variety. So let me just put your minds at ease: Yes, I have stayed at the Mayflower Hotel in the past, but I am in no way connected to the recent bust of the high-class prostitution ring here in DC. Thank you all very much for your concern. MY ALIBI IS STILL PRETTY HEAVY ON THE SHAME, HOWEVER So... Read more →

The Neenee of the Heart

When you have a speech-delayed kid, you will be constantly warned not to imitate their pronunciation, no matter how adorable it may be. When they butcher a word, you are supposed to model the correct pronunciation. You will be told this is very, very important. I have a very, very hard time remembering this. "Buddy, do you want some muck?" I ask while pouring the milk. "MMMMMMUCK!" he shrieks and nods his head. "If you are a good boy, I bet you'll get a baboonay," I tell him at Trader Joe's. "Yaaaay baboonaaaay!" he shrieks and eyes the balloons at the register. When I tuck him at night, he asks for his neenee. "Of course Mama will turn on your neenee," I say just before pulling the string on his favorite music box. That one is probably my favorite, since he calls ALL music -- instrumental, vocal, Snoop Dogg --... Read more →

Tod Tod Tod Tod Tod Toddlerville

Despite the occasional blogging-friendly pratfall, I actually do consider myself a fairly competent adult. I can make it through most days without serious injury, I juggle and meet multiple deadlines on a regular basis and I know how to open and close my stupid asshole stroller. But there's something about New York that turns in me into a bumbling, fumbling idiot. I get on the wrong train! I trip on the sidewalk! I compulsively over-tip cab drivers! I walk around with the tags from my inside-out underwear sticking out of my pants all day! This week's trip was no exception. Noah and I left DC on Sunday, smack dab in the middle of prime napping time. Even with Union Station's priority boarding for families with young children, we barely found seats in time. I had our suitcase on my back, the diaper bag slung over my torso and I was... Read more →

How Many Storches Does It Take To Screw In a Light Bulb

I somewhat randomly met a long-time reader recently who immediately wanted to know about The Tire. (Which is admittedly better than wanting an update on my menstrual cycle.) (HATE. THERE'S YOUR UPDATE. BUCKETS OF HATE.) Where is The Tire? And what was the deal with The Tire? Memmmmmmmmmmmmories! The Tire is no longer in our basement or foyer or being used as a festive centerpiece. It is, believe it or not, actually on Jason's car. Enjoying the open road, freedom and the Japanese auto industry dream. The deal with The Tire was simple: Jason's car only has room for a patch kit in the trunk. So he went and bought The Tire on eBay so he could also have a full-size spare. He rolled The Tire into our foyer. And left it there. He said he might just go ahead and replace one of his current tires -- he thought... Read more →


One drawback to the fancy search bar over to the left: I can now see exactly how repetitive my blogging -- and thus my very LIFE -- has been over the past few years. I broke my toe over the weekend. The same toe I broke here. I stubbed it on the vacuum cleaner, just like I did here. But it's a different toe than the one I broke here, so I am mixing it up a little bit. I stubbed it in the morning and did the whole silent-gasping dance around the bedroom, but it wasn't until a few hours later -- while we were shopping for last-minute Halloween costumes for ourselves, more on that ridiculousness in a second -- when I noticed my toe felt a little stiff. I flexed it inside my shoe, and heard an audible popping sound. "JESUS CHRIST!" I hissed, as I kicked my... Read more →