(This fucking economy, man. Hollywood is HUNGRY.) So last night I had the distinct privilege of being Linda's plus-one for the big! red blue carpet! premiere! of Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian. (The PR team in charge of the outing: "You have a blog too? That's adorable!") This is how we do big fancy movie premieres in DC, you guys: Port-o-potties as far as the eye could see. As we pulled up in our glamorous stretch limo short bus in front of the Air & Space Museum and a huge crowd of people who had apparently not figured out that the celebrities were already inside, I could barely contain my excitement and sudden terror about tripping on the bus steps and falling flat on my face. I did not fall down, which meant it was now time for the descent into increasingly embarrassing fameball douche behavior. "Smile, people in crowd who don't have tickets to get in! We're posting these on our MOMMYBLOGS!" (I cannot lie, though. Linda. Sundry! Seriously just as funny and wicked and potty-mouthed as you imagine, or at least desperately hope. Port-o-potty-mouthed. Between her sailorspeak and my tendency to worry out loud over... Read more →

Some handy steps and pointers: 1) STOP TAKING YOUR PHONE INTO BATHROOMS ALREADY, ASSHOLE. 2) Call phone, repeatedly. Curse out the automatic voicemail messaging service lady. 3) Head to Guest Services and the Lost & Found. Blank when they ask you to describe the phone. "Uh. It's a phone? 'Bout this big? Grayish/blackish/silverish? Supercute photo of this here baby *gesture to baby asleep in your cleavage* as the wallpaper when you turn it on?" 3a) Blank even blanker when they ask you for a phone number in case the phone does turn up. Run outside to find husband and ask what the hell his cell phone number is. Get impatient while husband blanks and pulls out his phone to search for his own damn number. 4) Hike back to bathroom to check for phone one last time, completely missing the childish look of wonder on your son's face during the post-game fireworks, for which you waited through extra innings of complete boredom for and are now the assholes who have babies and preschoolers out in the city at 11 pm at night and ARE ALSO PHONELESS, THIS IS ALL THE FIREWORKS' FAULT SOMEHOW. 5) Inventory the contents of your phone.... Read more →

I am losing mah mind over here, people. You know it's bad when I start breaking out the phonetic Southern accent that I don't actually talk with. 1) My baby is SIX MONTHS OLD today. Six! Such a random number to get worked up about, I know, but six! Half a year! Totally in need of a long detailed entry about the state of every tiny little thing he does! But who is going to write that, I ask you. WHO? All my ghostwriters called in drunk. 2) Noah's evaluation with the school district is TOMORROW. At the crack of 9 o'clock. And I've got a whole entry about THAT percolating in my brain, in which I confess that the last couple weeks have actually been w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l and we've made a lot of great p-r-o-g-r-e-s-s and now I have NO idea what to expect from him tomorrow, like I think there might be a chance we get sent home with zero services and I think I might be okay with that, because seriously: w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l. But the minute I say all of that out loud I just know I will jinx everything and come home tomorrow feeling like a truck up... Read more →

Funny thing about using this old laptop: I don't like using it, therefore I turn it off and put it down a lot. I wander away from it -- and the Internet -- in favor of shit like laundry or unloading the dishwasher or those-bananas-are-ripe-I-should-make-some-banana-bread-type whims. And while I doubt anybody is coming here to read about my super-extra-hot-damn-exciting life or anything, believe me when I tell you that WOW, this week has been boring. I've been boring. I've transcended boring. I've actually died of boredom and then risen from the dead to become boring's own personal messiah. Although last night Jason and I had a date night, and on the way home Jason was challenged to a fistfight on the Metro by a tweaked out meth head who thought it would be a good idea to start calling a fellow white dude the n-word and then scream I'M FIVE FOOT EIGHT, MOTHERFUCKER repeatedly until the next station stop, where Jason told him to get off and wait for him on the platform. "I'll be right there," he said. "And we'll go at it." The guy did, although his hopped-up excitement quickly turned to confusion as he watched the train... Read more →

I spent all weekend planting things. OUTSIDE things. OUTSIDE, where there are bugs. Worms. Dirt. Nature. After working diligently for two whole minutes I commented to Jason that this wasn't so bad. This wasn't so bad at all! We've spent the last 10 months or so going back and forth about whether we really want to stay out here in the suburbs -- we kind of hate it, honestly -- and we were *thiiiiiis close* to making an offer on a condo in our old neighborhood (hell, practically in our old building) right after Ezra was born (hell, he was still pruny and gory) but then waffled for five minutes because HELLO, pruny gory baby and our house wasn't ready to sell (despite our best psychotic nesting efforts) and then the condo went under contract and All The Stuff With Noah happened and finally we both admitted that yes, we really really really do want to move back to the city but it's just not the right time yet, maybe next year, in the meantime, let's get outside and plant some goddamn tulips. So there I was, planting things -- some bulbs for next year, some shrubs and groundcover and... Read more →

Oh, but God help us, we went to the zoo. Thefuckingzoo, yes. We've been basking in downright lovely weather for a few days, and so, because I am freaking raging batshit crazy, I suggested that hey! We should take Noah to the zoo! It's free! It's outside! We'll see some animals! Get some exercise! Check in on those goddamn pandas. I'm sure the zoo no longer fucking sucks anymore, I mean: Obama. Right? Everything in DC is magical again. Results were fairly typical. The whole place smells like poop, is STILL under construction, the pandas were sleeping, the monkeys were all sitting morosely in their cages with their sad little ape fingers hanging through the bars while assholes rapped on the glass, and a tiger roared really ferociously, usurping that one scene in 101 Dadamations where Pongo bites the bad guys as our Number One Source of Preschooler Nightmares. I forgot to bring a real camera, but got some pretty good shots with my phone, I think. Noah saw some elephants, which was real exciting. (Not Pictured: the overachieving father who stood there holding up his infant's bucket car seat in the direction of the elephants, if only the poor... Read more →

Some of the hideous post ideas I started and trashed yesterday: "My kitchen sink is drip...drip...dripping and aaaaaahhhhhhhhhstopit!" "Dear Dog and Cat: How do manage to time your vomiting TO THE EXACT MINUTE we run out of paper towels?" "Yeah, so I WANT to write another installment in the Deodorant Wars, but I've been struggling to come up with a plot line for my new stick of Dove Clinical Protection. Who IS she, as a character? What's her MOTIVATION?" Then I was all: cop-out time! Noah photo! Belly photo! But then all the camera batteries were all simultaneously dead. Simultaneously and AT THE SAME TIME EVEN. Clearly, the blogging gods were against me, determined that I should keep at least a few damn thoughts to my own damn self. This was, judging by the above examples, probably for the best. I don't really have much else to say today, other than to issue a warning to anyone in the DC area: hey! You know what's a bad idea? Like, a really, really bad idea? Blindly following your GPS, even when it's telling you to turn left onto a one-way, do-not-enter street that happens to be oh, directly in front of... Read more →

Well. THAT sure was some damn first-trimester hair, no? Something definitely...deflatey...happened to it in between my last-minute fluff-job in the bathroom upstairs and sitting down at the judges' table. But! My arms looked pretty skinny, AND they spelled my website's name correctly in the closed captioning. Success! Two thumbs up! Fine holiday fun. Now let us never speak of this again. Well, AFTER I talk about it just a little more, because really, what the hell else do I have to talk about, short of continuing my Grand Tradition of posting about something really gross and personal and embarrassing right in the wake of some kind of major media exposure? (Hey! Once the Throwdown buzz dies down remind me to tell you about the time I almost rushed myself to Labor & Delivery because of a hemorrhoid! The time called "Tuesday!") 1) Despite the fact that I honestly really know NO ONE and have NO FRIENDS and haven't gotten a haircut since JANUARY because I have NO FRIENDS who can watch my spawn for a few hours and I never GO ANYWHERE ANYWAY, pretty much every single person who got a soundbite on the show is a friend of ours.... Read more →

So I should probably post a photo of my kid waving a little American flag or something...like he's doing right now! complete with peanut-butter-and-jelly smeared all over his face, because we love America up right around here! But I am a little preoccupied with the growing ball of anxiety in mah belly (just north of the OTHER growing ball of something in mah belly), because we've been officially informed that our Throwdown with Bobby Flay episode is airing tomorrow night at 9 pm. Well, it's not "our" episode or anything -- in fact, I am really hoping "our" airtime is kept to like, four minutes -- that honor really belongs to local chef Teddy Folkman of Granville Moore's. We were just the completely unqualified judges who probably gave the producer a splitting tension headache via our inability to get a sentence out on camera without saying "uhh" or "umm" or "I think I might vomit a little." A few additional thoughts and disclaimers and things that bear repeating from my original telling of the tale, for anyone who chooses to watch: 1) While the whole point of the show is that the local chef has no idea that Bobby Flay... Read more →

In my long and illustrious career of bothering minor celebrities, I have: 1) Swiped fried calamari from Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. 2) Screamed IMABIGFAN!! at Ted Allen outside a wine festival while waving a commemorative wine glass at him. 3) Ate fondue with Project Runway's Laura Bennett; spilled fondue on self. 4) Non-consensually hugged Alan Cumming in the bathroom line of a restaurant. 5) Stared slack-jawed at 30 Rock's Judah Friedlander while he ate ravioli with his family. LESSON FOR CELEBRITIES: if you see me, and there appears to be food involved in the scenario, RUN AWAY. A few weeks ago, Jason got an email from someone at the Food Network. They were looking for local "food people" to participate in a new travel series that would profile a local chef. I was invited too. Basically: Food Network People: We need some DC-area foodie people for this show. Google: Here you go! Food Network People: Oh look, he's married! Hmm, maybe she's a foodblogger too! *Food Network People visit my blog on the day this entry was posted * Food Network People: Well, THAT was easy. LESSON FOR BLOGGERS: Visibility on Google is important, even if your blog is... Read more →