To Whom It May Concern:

Due to issues of laziness and greed this blog is only open to doing reviews for the following items:

Porche

BMW

Mercedes

Maserati

Bentley


I think you get the idea.  And here is how it will work.  You send to me free of change any luxury item of my chosing and I will write you a honest heartfelt review about that item.  I will then enjoy using that item for the rest of my life.  Thank you in advance and I am sure I enjoyed doing business with you.  Sorry no give aways, except when I am the one who is doing the getting.  

I would also be willing to take and review that guy from the Old Spice "Look at Me, Know look at your Man" commercials.  Just saying.

Bad Haiku Thursday?

the experiment

is now totally over

haiku thursday dead

Wordless Wednesday

Having cause as much havoc as possible, the Deedle hops on his trusty zebra and rides off into the sunset.

Top Ten Ways to Convince Your Husband to Get a Vasectomy

10. Have children

9. Have very loud crazy boy children

8. Stop the flow of the sexy sexy

7. Offer to do it at home with a rust nail

6. Pick out names for three more children and refer to them non-stop. For example: With Tecumseh, Tallulah and Treat in tow our lives will be complete. Just wait until you see what I have planned for Tecumseh’s baby shower. I hope baby Treat has your eyes, etc.

5. Remind him of how long you pushed with child one and how child number two was almost born on the side of the road.

4. Shove a sofa up his ass so that he can experience the joys of childbirth.

3. Offer to do it at home with a used grapefruit knife.

2. Tell him it will make him bigger and better

1. Pump him full of ketamine and hope the urologist does not notice.

I am, I am Super Mom

My apologies to REM.  I really do love you guys, but I had to borrow and ruin your song.  If it will make you feel any better I can cook you some good vegetarian food in return. 

I am I am I am Super Mom and I know what's happening.

I am I am I am Super Mom and I can do anything.

You don't need that snack your beggin for now do you?

I know you aren't starving cause I can see right through you?

I am I am I am Super Mom and I know what's happening.

I am I am I am Super Mom and I can do anything.

If you go a million miles away I'll track you down you silly boys.

Trust me when I say I know the pathway to your heart.

If you go a million miles away I'll track you down you silly boys.

Trust me when I say I know the pathway to your heart.

I am I am Super Mom and I know what's happening.

I am I am I am Super Mom and I can do anything.

I am I am I am Super Mom and I know what's happening.

I am I am I am Super Mom and I can do anything

Bad Haiku Thursday?

I will not let go

Don't Care About Failure

Haikus here to stay

Wordless Wednesday-Project Build the Perfect Man

Admittedly he does a piss poor job, but you have to start somewhere. 

A Single Mom

I do not often write about my mom here on my blog. First she does not know about this blog. I have to self edit enough, as it is what with the husband, the kids future psychotherapy fund, and the friends. I don't want to have to self-edit for my parents, his parents and his grandparents (what can I say these people are Hungarian and they live forever). Secondly, my mom and I have had at times not the best of relationship and at other times the best relationship. You know the usual mother-daughter crap. And who wants to read about that. Sure she has said some really crappy things to me and I to her, but it is not like she left me in a cage and feed me nothing but nuts and berries.


My mom is 78. She had me rather late in life. I have only one sibling who is 18 years my senior. My sister and I do not share the same father. My sister's father abandoned his family within days of my sister's birth. My sister, let's call her K.K., was born with Spina Bifida in 1953 and she was basically expected to die. When she did not die, it was deduced by the doctors who cared for her that because she survived she would be burden to her family. Their recommendation was to commit her to an institution for the remainder of her life. My mom chose not the do that and her husband ran for the hills. This left my mother to parent alone a handicapped child in a time without any kind of decent pay for women, daycare, or health services for the handicapped. This lead to a series of crappy paying jobs, crappy apartments and really crappy babysitters. As you can imagine my sister is one pretty screwed up gal. In the end, being born with Spina Bifida was not the greatest challenge she would face. Not by a long shot.

My mom met my dad when K.K. was about 10 years old. After marrying my dad, my mom was able to stay home and take better care of my sister. K.K. was able to get some decent healthcare and things were better. But of course both of them will be marked forever by those years on their own. They hoard, they cling, they do not share well with others. They are somehow shell-shocked and always waiting for the other shoe to drop even after all these years.

Why do I suddenly decide to write about my mom? Well, because of Kate Gossline, or more specifically how my mom feels about Kate. My mom is an ardent supporter of Kate. She calls Dancing with the Stars until the phone is about to melt, just to vote for Kate. She couldn't care less if Kate just stood there. My mom is going not vote for her, why? Because my mom wants Kate to be able to support her children financially. And I don't know, but this just stuck with me. This club of sorts that these two women from different worlds and times now belong to: The Single Mom's Who Used to be Married to Douche Bags Club. They are tight and I would not fuck with them if I were you. So, vote for Kate or a very cranky and more than just a little crazy old woman might show up at your house and read you the riot act. Don't worry too much; I am pretty sure you can out run her.

Alone

Last week I

drove alone

walked alone

ran alone

cried alone

worried alone

waited alone

thought alone

fretted alone

received joyous news alone

celebrated alone

It takes a crisis to show you what really matters, who you really care about and who really cares about you.  No matter what you still have to do it all alone, so you better like youself or things will go from alone to lonely very quickly. I am constantly working on that last part.  I would like to share more with you and I probably need to share more with you, but my husband has called the : it is no ones business rule.  So, I am back to being alone.

pointillism

Based on this past week I have some points to make:
· Yelling at a stranger because you had to wait at a doctor’s office really does no good. It made you seem like an idiot and it made me very want to rip your face off and feed it to a rapid yard dog. Besides your argument, that you have been a patient there for years and therefore should not have to wait was not helped by the fact that you thought I was the office assistant. I was sitting down reading a magazine. That is code for: Patient

· Good news should be delivered over cake, never over barium milkshakes.

· Disappointment is often delivered in the form of silence.

· You should not wait until the last minute to pee.

· Don't pull too hard on your blister care band-aids, because you might ripe off more than you meant to.

· Jogging is fun. Finding out your jog slower than Grandma Moses is not fun.

· Not really sure that these are valid points about anything.

· Sometimes you need to know when to shut up.

Haiku Thursday?

Haiku Thursday not

A Big Hit without f-word

Must add more fuckers.

Wordless Wednesday

How best to clean a high chair?

The Year of the Tiger: NOT!

I must say I am sick and tired of Tiger Woods. Before this past Thanksgiving, I had given Tiger Woods no thought at all. I don't like golf, so I really did not care. Yes, it was great that someone had broken the color barrier in what has got to be whitest things ever: namely golf and golf courses. But golf is boring and I think that they ought to play it from the carts. That would be exciting. Introduce the element of injury and I am in!
Furthermore, I did not know that Tiger Woods was married or had kids until he started sticking his dick into restaurant hostesses. Although I was not surprise that someone with his wealth and status was taking advantage of his status and wealthy by screwing around. That is kind of what status and wealth is for, right? It is not just men that do it. Women of wealth and status do it too. Doris Duke screwed a different pool boy every day of the week and she only had the one pool, per house. Oh wait, that is a lot of pool boys.  Wow, she must have been way tired. 

So he got caught. He got hit with a golf club or too. He confessed. He went into hiding. He went to sex rehab (snicker, snicker). He got released. He apologized to the nation, his wife and the golf channel. He got back into golf by playing the Masters (smooth move Élan...that place does not allow women in...You are thinking smart now). He does a creepy ad with his dead dad. And it never stops. People will not shut up about Tiger Woods! Enough already. Shut up!

Now that Jesse James. I thought he got shot in the back out West or something. Maybe I am confused.

M is for Mommy

Last week while shopping at a craft store my children fell in love with some glittery letters. I mean, who wouldn't. They had been very good and patient little shoppers so I got them each their first initials. Needless to say lots of hugging and running around with glittery letters soon ensued at home.
Later that night over dinner the K Man, while proudly telling me all about his letter, realizes that we neglected to get a letter for the cat. I assured him that the cat was all right with this and would not fell at all slighted. 'No!’ he insisted. We need to go back to the store and get a P for Penny. With some vague assurances from me to this fact we moved on with dinner.

Then he realized that we had not gotten a letter for mommy. Yes! Mommy needs an M for Mommy. But, that is not mommy's name I explained. My name is Amy. This is something he knows, but of course he calls me mommy. 'No!’ he insists. I need an M for Mommy.

This little innocent conversation struck a cord with me. Although I do not want my children to call me Amy, I still want to be Amy. I love my children. I love my husband. I am not a mom who wants to be away from either for very long, but I miss myself, too. I miss being an individual who is not defined by marriage or childbirth. I miss Amy. I know that one day I will miss it more when Mommy is replaced with a recalcitrant: MOM.

But for now, I miss A is for Amy.

I got a bone to pick with Trader Joe

Like many towns we have a Trader Joe's which offers amongst other things an assortment of reasonably priced organic produce and other foods. I particularly like their organic frozen vegetables. They are a lifesaver. In addition to their organic items they also offer the best prices on eggs, honey, maple syrup and my favorite kind of hot dogs. They offer paper bags only, and they have incentives for those who bring in their own bags. Like so many others I purchased one of their reusable Trader Joe's bag and I try my best to bring it in when I shop.

In an effort to remember to bring in my reusable Trader Joe's bag, I started using that bag to collect the Safeway plastic bags that we accumulate from our weekly shopping. Then when I go into Trader Joe's I deposit those bags in one of their grocery plastic bag recycling bins. Well, last month the Deedle and I took our bags in only to discover that they no longer have the recycling bins for plastic grocery bags out. I asked the guy (ie Manager in a Tropical shirt) up front and I was told that they did not offer it anymore because  they did not distribute plastic bags. This seems fair enough to me, although I was going to miss the ease of dropping them off there since I collect them in my Trader Joe's bag. But I am of the opinion that a company has a right to make those decisions. They do not create a problem with their bags so why should they pay to to even had the bins to recycle other stores bags. I went on my merry way happy with the free market and all the jazz.

Only today something happened at Trader Joe's which seems to me to a bit of a contradiction and which frankly is going to make my life a little more hellish. The draw to Trader Joe's for me is the good prices and readily availably to organic goods. The draw for my children has always been the balloons. They usually offer a myriad of colored latex-free balloons at the check out stand for the kids to chose from. You see kids like these things and as a result they love going to Trader Joe's. My husband does our Safeway shopping sans children. But Trader Joe's is small enough for me to handle and kid friendly enough for my boys. So, that is a chore we gladly do together. Until today that is!

Right off the bat, I forget my reusable bag because it is at home holding the plastic grocery bags, which now need to taken to Safeway for recycling. That is not so bad, the Trader Joe's paper bags are nice and we get a lot of use out of them around the house. At the end of our shopping my trip I went to the register and I realized that they did not have any balloons. I ask if I can get balloons for the boys and I am informed that they will no longer have balloons for the kids. Why? Because balloons are really, really bad for the environment. The cashier offers the kids some stickers instead, because obviously stickers are good for the environment. Kind of like recycling plastic bags.

Here is my issue; this company (or maybe just this store) is no longer offering me the customer a way to recycle, which is very, very good for the environment. But they will discontinue giving away balloons under the premise that is it very, very bad for the environment. Well, let me just say this: BULLSHIT! You stopped both to save money. You see because these two decisions contradict each other on the topic of the environment, but the one thing they have in commen is saving money.
So, please Trader Joe's be straight with me and with your employees. You, like everyone else needs to save money and cut expenses. Don't blame the environment!  Mother Nature might just drop a house on you.

Haiku Thursday-Post Easter Let Down

Peep dust on the floor
Child jumps 50 feet in air
Sugar is the king

Wordless Wednesday

Getting it

If you have read this blog at all, you are no doubt aware that I have issues with my weight. Mainly, I have too much of it. In fact I have almost enough for two people: two very thin persons, but you get the point. I need to and am constantly trying to lose weight. I have lost the same 8 pounds again and again over the last year or so. Needless to say this is at times a soul sucking experience.
But it with I hopes a renewed vigor that I started again with this process. So, this time I joined Weight Watcher, and started a walking regime. My sons and I go on walks almost everyday, weather permitting (which in Ca is pretty often). Now, they do not actually walk, they ride in the stroller while I push. After doing this for three weeks or so I decided I would try jogging on those days that I did not have the kids in tow. I used to jog, back when I was fit and I loved it. I say jog because I am really SLOW. Like old people on their little rascals lap me while I am jogging, but I am going faster then a walk. So, shut up old people or I will pull the spark plugs on that thing.

As you can imagine, my days without the boys are few. I have only been able to jog alone a couple of times. Yesterday represented my best time. I actually covered 2 miles in 35 minutes. This is major for a slowpoke like me. Seriously major! I see the time and distance on my MayMyWalk iPhone app ($3 cheaper than the MapMyRun and is does all the same stuff y'all) and I am feeling GREAT! Then the pain sets in. Frick! Blisters! Ugh!

Social Media Makes me Think of Social Diseases

I have to admit that I find Twitter mind-blog-ag-gling(insert your hysterical laughter here).  Like any given aisle at Costco or Home Depot there is just too much information to take in at any given time.  Too many tweets, too many followers, too many followees and I assure you that I don't have many of the above, but I am still overwhelmed.  When I first started a twitter account I followed every celebrity and newsgroup that I liked.  In the beginning, I also followed almost everyone who followed me (my one exception was the porn bots of course---NO I don't want to see you tits...I have my own set thank you very much).  I soon discovered that most celebrites had nothing but stupidity to impart on the American Public, that John McLaughlin never tweets anything-period (despite that fact there every week on the McLaughlin Group he promises to do so) and that most of the people who spontaneously followed me where either selling something, shilling for something/someone or plugging a review blog. Very little of it mattered to me, very little of it entertained me in the slightest and I am all about being entertained.  I am not doing any of this for the good of mankind: I want to be entertained.  Call it Objectivism for the new Millennium....Entertain me or just shut the fuck up. 

Over time I whittled down my followings.  I only follow those who amuse me.  You will not be surprised to discover that they are also the minds behind the blogs you will find on my blogroll.  These are writers who for the most part constantly manage to amuse me on a regular basis.  The list changes over time because I have a very short attention span and I hate it when people constantly change their blogs. What can I say? I am a slave to routine, hence my popularity with toddlers.  I also follow some political tweeters.  Some left wing and some right wing, I like to keep an eye on what everyone is doing.  I also use twitter to keep up on the lasted controversies in the word of mommyblogging.  Most of which I do not understand at all, but I think it is fair to say that most it is motivated one way or another by jealousy. 

I have over time made Twitter more managable by being less social with my social media.  But I am still confused by some things.  Like what is up with the #s and the @s.  Who sees my tweets?  Who is Justin Beiber?  See like a babe in the woods I am lost.  I need help. 

Some of you may follow me on twitter and you are no doubt aware that have I set up an auto publish of my blogs feed so that any new posts are automatically fed to Twitter.  You might be thinking to yourself, why?  Why would theMom do this when she admits that does not understand twitter?  Well, I will tell you why.  I saw that Will Wheaton did this and well, who does not to emulate Will Wheaton?  Really, who?  No one, that's who! So, I set up an auto feed just like he had and now I cannot remember how I did it!  So, I cannot change the damn thing!  Damn you technology and Will Wheaton!  Damn you!