One T-Junction Short of a Track

You know how some bloggers come back after a few days of not updating and talk about how BUSY, SO VERY BUSY they were, and you think, "I bet you were not really that busy." Well, I was not really that busy. The other half of Noah's train table finally arrived, as did a bunch of Thomas the Tank Engine recalls-in-the-making train sets. I should have known I was getting in over my head when I read the user reviews on Amazon...someone would complain that a certain piece had "two female ends" and thus wouldn't fit to form a circular track and blah blah blaaah, and then a hundred people would vote the review "unhelpful" and there'd be a series of rebuttals from Little Engineer in Little Rock and tommylovesthomas and hotdude4673 about how like, heh, the trains aren't meant to only go in CIRCLES and two female ends are actually really HELPFUL if you actually KNOW ANYTHING about TRAINS, unless you're like, heh, trying to replicate the track from the infamous Percy Saves the Day episode, which, heh, had a COMPLETELY BACKWARDS t-junction, like are we supposed to believe that was some sort of MAGIC t-junction? I mean, come... Read more →

Chuck Effing Cheese

Guess what! We went to Chuck E. Cheese yesterday. It went super well. Oh fine, Noah actually did have fun -- his own Noah-ish kind of fun; the kind that involves just sort of wandering around aimlessly and suspiciously, perhaps occasionally deigning to go down a slide.... Pausing, of course, to read the Toddler Zone Safety Guidelines on the wall first. Or to play with the boring toys that other kids ignore in favor of the ones with GIANT SMASHING HAMMER THINGS... Seek the tomb of a knight a pope interred? WTF? Or to watch the giant singing rat from a respectful distance... Hey now! You're an all-star! Get your game on! For $20 in tokens, go play! Or to just be the all-around most serious child ever to set foot in the place... Did everybody here get their Kid Check hand stamp? Yes? Good. He liked sitting in some of the rides, but freaked out if I put a token in and made it move or light up or do absolutely anything at all. It was kind of sweet, though, the way he would frantically sign ALL DONE ALL DONE and then run off in search of more stationary... Read more →

Weekend: Horror Movie Edition

Molarball: The Return; or Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Eat SpaghettiOs Again Also known as Friday, the day Noah had a coughing/choking/hacking-lung fit right after lunch and projectile vomited a plate of pasta, half a cheddar cheese stick and an entire sippy cup of juice. And if you think this stuff looks gross coming from the bottle, just wait until you see it come BACK UP. Exorcist remakes, take note. We've got incoming molars, people. And we are just fucking THRILLED about it. Birthday Party: Part Two: The Planninging; or Take Your Fucking Theme And Shove It Up Your Fucking Ass Also known as Saturday, the day it occurred to me that Noah's birthday party was exactly one week away and my extremely laid-back, jebus-lord-he's-only-two approach to planning the stupid thing meant that THERE HAS BEEN NO STUPID PLANNING. Half the guests are vegetarian, the other half are extremely picker eaters and/or children, yet another half (shut up, the math works in my head at least) are Jason's gourmet foodie friends and when I suggested burgers on the grill and a couple boxes of veggie burgers Jason's show-offy dinner-party-loving head exploded, sort of like when I told... Read more →

So You've Gone and Dropped Your iPhone in the Toilet: Some Handy Steps & Pointers

1) If you have not yet dropped your iPhone in the toilet, consider NOT dropping your iPhone in the toilet. This is a solid course of action, in my opinion, and one that can be easily achieved by not keeping your iPhone in your back pocket, unless your back pocket has a button, but if that's the case, you probably aren't cool enough to own an iPhone in the first place, no? If displacement of object x (where x = a fucking expensive phone) is forced by the downward velocity of object y (where y = your pants), object x will swan dive out and away from object y, with the trajectory being affected by the natural gravitational pull of object z (where z = the shitter) by a fairly simple factor of murphy's law < just your flipping luck + manufacturers' warranty = VOID. In layman's terms: pants down + phone falls = splish splash. 2) If you have already dropped your iPhone in the toilet, you do need to immediately remove it from the toilet, then proceed directly to step 3. 3) Wash your hands. 4) Stare at phone in horror for a few seconds and assess the... Read more →

Or: An Important Reminder Why I Should Probably Shut Up About Flight of the Conchords Already

So the first thing you need to know about going to see Rent on Broadway is that there is a crazy line before the show. It snakes around the block. It crowds the sidewalk and yes, all those people have tickets. As I mentioned on Friday, we actually saw Rent before, ages and ages ago. Probably the first cast after the original cast left. It was good. We clapped and I cried and then we got on with our lives. I don't believe there was a line. As we approached the theater Jason went pale. Jason hates lines. He hates anything remotely resembling a line. "We have tickets, right?" he asked, "That's just the line for those cheap tickets, right?" I glanced at my watched and shook my head. "The lottery already happened." We wandered through the crowd towards Will Call -- past many people fanning themselves with Ticketmaster printouts -- and I tried to figure out what I was missing here. There was no line at Will Call. We all had assigned seats. They never start the show until everybody is seated. I collected our tickets from Will Call and joined what turned out to be a secondary line... Read more →

Let's Go To the Zoo, Part Two

I tried to tell Bunny that the fucking zoo fucking sucks, but she didn't believe me. She'd been to the fucking zoo and had a perfectly lovely time, save for the somewhat chilly March weather (she's from California, and thinks we're all nuts for living on this coast, where your car gets snowed in and you have to wear jackets and whatever the hell). So I allowed myself to be talked into going back to the fucking zoo. We'd go during the week! In the morning! Noah is old enough now! The pandas aren't such a big fucking deal anymore! It's gonna be great! So we packed up snacks and sippy cups and loaded up the offroading strollers and drove to the fucking zoo. The beginning of the day. Full of promise and hope and overwhelming skepticism. That arrow, by the way, led us to a non-stroller accessible walkway with a bazillion stairs. That was possibly in the jungle. Where those screeching ink-shooting dinosaurs that killed Newman probably live. We opted to hike up a small hill to a different entrance. About halfway up the hill I started wheezing. And sweating. And cursing at Bunny in foreign languages that I... Read more →


Last night I attended my very first book-launch party. No, I did not write a book. Someone else wrote a book. And then someone else decided that inviting social dorkwad idiots like myself to the launch party was a good idea. (Bloggers. We're ruining ALL the best parties these days.) So. Let's recap the evening, shall we? 5:00 pm Okay. Jason will be home in a half hour to drive me to party. And pick up Bunny, who I am dragging as my plus-one. Plenty of time to put on pretty new dress, some makeup and pull hair into easy half-up, half-down, pulled-back-bangs look. 5:01 Notice red scaly patch of eczema-like rash on cheek. Random! Weird! Apply lotion and plug in curling iron. 5:04 Remember to turn curling iron ON. Whore. 5:05 Notice red scaly patch on cheek has morphed into some kind of angry red hive. Itchy. Ignore. 5:06 Start curling hair. Achieve perfect half-up, half-down, pulled-back-bangs style on first try. 5:07 Remember dress has to go over head. Dammit. 5:10 Notice hives all over neck and chest. Dying? Ignore. 5:20 Hair not cooperating. Each attempt at half-up, half-down, pulled-back-bangs style getting poofier and ridculouslier than the last. 5:21... Read more →

The Many Loves of Amalah, Part Fin

SO. I TAKE IT Y'ALL LIKE SEEING INDULGENT BABY PHOTOS AND SUCH, EH? AND SEVERAL OF YOU REQUESTED MORE? WELL, I WILL GIVE YOU MORE. BUT I WILL NOT STOP YELLING BECAUSE I AM AN OVERLY VERBAL THREE-YEAR-OLD WHO IS REALLY PISSED ABOUT SOMETHING. Specifically, many of you requested "mall bangs" photos. And really, I looked. But I could not find any mall bangs photos. This is not to say that I did not wear mall bangs, because I did, and lo, they were multi-layered and gravity-defying, but I just don't seem to have any photos of said bangs in my possession. I did find one photo of me with about half my hair pulled into a ponytail on the side of my head, and I may also have been wearing a fanny pack in this same photo, but you know what? I'm not going to post that one. I embarrass myself for your pleasure enough as it is. No one needs to see half-head ponytails and fanny packs. Besides. There's enough mockery-inducing material in this little gem: (Click for bigger version, duh.) THAT, my friends, is a newspaper clipping from February 1997 about the re-release of the original Star... Read more →

The Many Loves of Amalah, Part Four

Read Parts One, Two and Three right heah. (Hmm, I’m starting to get into the realm where maybe I should consider making up names for these people. I mean, I know there are septeventy billion Joshes in the world, but I prefer not to get sued by the one out there who knows how to Google and maybe happens to be a big lawyer or something.) (Although I know for a fact that this Josh is not a big lawyer, because I know how to Google. But more on that later. Plus, Miss Doxie will be my lawyer and she will kick yo’ass to the curb, boy.) Anyway. It was sometime during eighth grade that Josh asked me out. And unlike every boy I’d met up to this point, he meant it. He wanted to go OUT. On a DATE. And he CALLED ME. On the TELEPHONE. Swoon. My parents? Were not too thrilled. Josh was in ninth grade. He looked older than that though. He worked out. His bedroom was actually the entire finished basement of his house. He had a fridge down there. And couches, plural. His own phone line, television, VCR, etc. He was cool, cats. But... Read more →

The Many Loves of Amalah, Part Three

Or, Church Youth Groups Ruin Young Lives After seventh grade, you might say that I had it coming. A nice big cosmic slap of karmic retribution across my snooty little backside. In eighth grade, it came. My school lost its lease at the end of seventh grade. The public school district needed the building back. My school did not really have its act together and didn’t start looking for a new building until like, July. Not surprisingly, that didn’t work out too well and the school closed its doors. (Or, “the school did not reopen its doors” if I’d like to make that sentence a TRIPLE negative. Boy crazy in English class much?) Amy was sent to a Catholic school in Trenton, N.J. Markthew and his family moved away, I think. Mattark and I were sent to another small Christian school about 25 miles away that my parents really couldn’t afford. A few other random dorks were sent there too—just enough to taint the entire batch of “LBCA transfers” and cause our new classmates to view us as one indistinguishable bloc of Loooosers. Mattark and I spoke on the phone once or twice over the summer but when school started... Read more →