Friday, April 30, 2010

Songs You Can Listen to With Your Kids That Don't Suck

I have a playlist on my iPod of songs originally intended for grown-ups that my kids love.  And you know what?  I am so sick of all of these songs that I want to vomit.  So I thought maybe we could utilize this internet thingee to share our favorite non-annoying songs that kids love (or that at least are safe to listen to with the kids in the car).  The more random - the better we like it.

If you have some great songs, please leave a comment.  PLEASE.  I can't hear any more of the crap I already have.  I'll be updating the suggestions we get from Facebook throughout the afternoon and evening. 

Immigrant Song - Led Zepplin
A-Punk - Vampire Weekend
Great DJ - The Ting Tings
Love Will Keep Us Together - The Cap'n and Lydia Tenille
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Kids In America - Kim Wilde
Electric Avenue - Eddie Grant
Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
If I Had A Million Dollars - Bare Naked Ladies
Anything by Taylor Swift (but I like this one, a rap number featuring T-Pain called "Thug Story")
Energy - Apples in Stereo
Don't Go Breaking My Heart - Elton John and Kiki Dee
What's New Pussycat? - Tom Jones (Yes, I went there.  Suck it, haters.)
All This Beauty - The Weepies
Suspicious Minds - Elvis Presley
D.A.N.C.E. - Justice
Lovefool - The Cardigans
The Devil Went Down to Georgia - Charlie Daniels Band
Copa Cabana - Barry Manilow (Kate has seen him in concert like 1,000 times - no joke - and he's awesome - and McLovin gets embarassed when she sings along really loud and dances.)
I Don't Know Why - Fleetwood
Cupid Shuffle - BOB
Kaboom - Ursula 1000

First Facebook Update (Lydia is trying to weed out the suggestions with curse words):
Squeezebox - The Who
Mama Mia Soundtrack (lots of people liked this one)
West Coast - Coconut Records
Electric Feel - MGMT
So What - Pink
Single Lady - Beyonce (this one got a lot of shout-outs)
Zombie - The Cranberries
Walking on Sunshine - Katrina and the Waves
Hotel California - The Eagles
Hey Jude - The Beatles (this one got many votes - Beatles = awesome)
Get ready 4 this - 2unlimited
Pump up the jam  - Technotronic
Gonna make you sweat - c&c music factory
YMCA - the Village People
I Gotta Feeling - Black Eyed Peas (Apparently, kids really love the Black Eyed Peas - who knew?!)
Footloose -
Sunday Girl  - Blondie
Pump it Up - Elvis Costello
Brass in Pocket - The Pretenders
Wild Weekend - NRBQ
Groove is in the Heart - Dee Lite (Lydia snuck out on a school night in 1991 to go see this band and got a high five from Bootsy Collins at the show - WOOT!) 
The Great Defector - Bell X1
Spiraling - Keane
Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
Heinrich Maneuver - Interpol
Barracuda - Heart
Black Horse and the Cherry Tree - KT Tunstall
Dashboard - Modest Mouse
Love Shack and Rock Lobster - B52's

Second Facebook Update!
Dirty Deeds and Back in Black - ACDC
Blitzkrieg Pop - The Ramones
"Say Hey (I love you)", "Hey Soul Sister" and "Good Night" - Black Eyed Peas
I Love Rock N Roll - Joan Jett
Mesage in A Bottle - the Police
Tainted Love - Soft Cell
Our Some Sugar on Me - Def Lep (I'm bad ass, that's why I shortened the name)
Rapper's Delite - Sugar Hill Gang
Party in the USA - Miley Cyrus (Ohmygawd. Earm-worm.  Total ear-worm)
Chasing Pavements - Adele
Pump It, Boom, Boom, Pow - Black Eyed Peas
It's My Life - Bon Jersey Jovi
Viva La Vida - Coldplay
Be Good Johnny - Men At Work
Three Little Birds - Bob Marley
I`ll go crazy if I don`t go crazy tonight - U2
Cheeseburger in Paradise - Jimmy Buffett
Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
Gettin' Jiggy Wit It - Will Smith
Sweet Caroline - the Glee soundtrack
Lola - The Kinks (I love this song but I could see Thumbelina asking some really funny questions)
Istanbul - They Might Be Giants
Kids - MGMT
My Moon My Man - Feist
Zero - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Peek-A-Boo - Siouxsie and the Banshees
Friday I'm In Love - The Cure
Uprising - Muse
It's Oh So Quiet - Bjork
The Goblin King - David Bowie
All Over It - Jamie Cullum
Day Tripper - The Beatles
Life is A Highway - Rascall Flatts
Aqualung - Jethro Tull

These are AWESOME!  WOOT!  Thank you so much!
xo, Lydia and Kate

ps: If we forgot anything or didn't add your suggestion, we're really sorry!  Stupid kids need parenting and attention and all and so we sort of had to rush through these updates. 

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The Music I Like Is Hip (Replacement)

I have always been a music lover.  Though unlike everyone else in my entire family I have no musical ability whatsoever.  Actually, the Cap'n may be worse than me.  When he is forced to sing in public (think National Anthem at ballgames or hymns in church), he pretends.  He just moves his mouth but no sound comes out.  Or if sound is coming out it is a very quiet sound audible only to dogs and NSA listening devices.  Because I am usually standing right next to him and I hear nothing.  But as he explains it, no singing is better than really, really bad singing - then he looks pointedly at me over his glasses.  Yes, I get the point.  I am not a talented singer. 

Stupid Cap'n.

Another thing you should know is that I'm kind of obnoxious about being into music and I'm always like: "You haaaaave to hear this song!!!" as if I were fourteen and had just taped it onto a cassette from the radio in my bedroom in 1987. Most of my friends and family humor me, probably just to get me to be quiet and leave them alone. And that's fine. As long as they listen to the song and nod appreciatively. So that's another way I am painfully immature.

But let's be clear about something, just because I love music and I'm nerdy about it does not mean that I have good taste.  I mean, I still love Duran Duran.  But I also love Radiohead.  It's the same thing with me and movies.  One night it's 'Pride and Prejudice' and the next its 'Smokey and the Bandit'.  I understand that I am not cool.  But I think I'm a little awesome for loving even really cheesy and stupid stuff. 

I mean, I like Tom Jones without the irony.  America's Top 40? Love it.  Cheesy hits from the 80's?  Bring it on.  Hair bands?  I'm from NJ so even yesser.  American Idol?  DVR every episode.
But then I heard Justin Beiber.  Oh my goodness.  This kid.  He is everywhere and that stinking "Baby" song is a damned ear-worm.  I thought he was a girl when I heard him on the radio.  Then I saw his picture and I thought: this kid looks exactly like someone I knew who was a Women's Studies major at Smith College.  Then we saw him perform.  Thumbelina was beside herself.  Hawk was looking forward to seeing what all the fuss was about.  Then he saw what Justin Beiber actually looked like, rolled his eyes and mutterred the now classic line:

"That's him? He doesn't even look like a beaver."

Let's be honest.  Depending on your definition of "beaver",  Justin looks exactly like one. Apparently, I was far from the first person to make this observation, as a link was sent to me from a friend (see picture below) - this website also has pictures of cats that look like Wilfred Brimley and how awesome is that?

Because I adore music of all kinds and have the fully-loaded iPod (my Precious) to prove it, my children have been exposed to pretty interesting stuff.  And it never fails to surprise me what they're going to love.  At two and half, Hawk heard "We Are the Champions" and it blew his little mind.  At four, Thumbelina memorized "Since U Been Gone" and spent a year singing it as loud as possible whenever it was least appropriate to do so.  And this is all great, because there's only so much kid music I can take.  Especially when baby #3 came around I was like, if I have to spend four more years listening to the Wheels on The Bus every time I get in the damn car I am going to have a brain hemmorrhage.

I decided last year that I was no longer going to subject myself to a musical diet of all Disney all the time.  We were going to rock out at least 50% of the time, usually in the car.  But it's hard because radio stations for the most part suck balls.  Ke$ha's "Tik Tok"?  Do I really want my six year old singing about how she brushes her teeth with a bottle of Jack?  No, I do not.  And while I can judiciously play stuff from the grown-up side of the iPod, sometimes something not quite safe for little ears pops up.  Here's what you get on my iPod when you hit shuffle:

Poker Face - Lady Gaga
H.O.V.A (IZZO) - Jay Z
Laurie's Got a Pig On her Head - Laurie Berkner
Karate - Tenacious D
Wichita Lineman - Glen Campbell*
Planet Earth - Duran Duran**
Imagination Movers Theme Song - Imagination Movers
Baby - Justin Beiber***

* I l-o-v-e this song and yes, I know what that says about me.
** Please note that Simon Le Bon looks less like a "New Romantic" and more like a "Gay Pirate".
*** I'm sorry but the ear-worm is now in your brain. Blame Thumbelina.

Do you get a sense of what I'm talking about?  I am not mentally ill, despite what my iPod says about me.  I recently had to own up to the fact that 2/3 of my offspring know all the words to "My Hair Looks Fierce".  I totally understand that this is not even right

The other day I was driving Hawk to school and I was fiddling with the radio.  Justin Beiber was on every station.  If he wasn't singing in his freaky, ear-worm, girl voice they were talking about him.  I then heard a morning show discussing a woman who had gotten implants that were double F's and they were making her tip over.  I glanced in the rear view mirror in time to see my little boy visibly perk up at the mention of boobies.  I quickly changed the station.  I landed on one that played three songs in a row that I loved and haven't heard in ages:

Like a Bird - Nelly Furtado
No Rain - Blind Melon
Closing Time - Semisonic

I was so happy.  Hawk loved the songs too and I started planning on how quickly I could get them onto my iPod when the station's DJ informed me that I was listening to an OLDIES STATION.

What. The. Hell. Is. He. Talking. About?  I am 37.  I am not old.  These songs are not old.  Closing Time came out the year after I got married... 1998.  And that was only... 12 years ago


What has happened to me?  Somehow in the last few years I have become one of these guys, sitting in the balcony heckling everyone that everything nowadays sucks.  Because the stuff I like is apparently on the oldies station.  No wonder I see a Justin Beiber video and I'm all: "Seriously?  I don't get it."  Because I am too old and lame to get it.

Well that's just fine.  I'm going to put on some Tom Jones, watch a little Smokey and the Bandit and cut some coupons. 

xo, Lydia

PS: I wasn't kidding about the cats...

PPS: Check back this afternoon around lunchtime for another rockin' music post:
"Songs You Can Listen to With Your Kids That Don't Suck".Share
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Thursday, April 29, 2010

National Buffoons' Family Fun Day

I recently wrote about how I am a terrible mother. The Cap'n decided to take pity on me and say that the recent rash of misbehavior was not my fault, but was due rather to our hectic lifestyle. Channeling his inner Clark Griswold, he proclaimed we needed a Family Fun Day where we would spend all our time together doing super fun stuff as a family! That's all it would take to get everything back on track.

Sure. Just ask the folks at Five Guys how well our Family Fun Days tend to turn out... But I didn't bring this up to the Cap'n.  He was on a roll.

So this time, the plan was to go to Starbucks, followed by a trip to a museum that was all about airplanes and genuine American-made spaceships, followed by burgers at... wait for it......Red Robin. All the elements needed for a truly great day, right?

Here’s a play-by-by:

Getting ready to go, Thumbelina freaked out because she was not allowed to wear her favorite dress to Family Fun Day. The dress, a hand-me-down, is white cotton with clusters of blue forget-me-nots, a large portrait collar, the world's puffiest sleeves, a large bow in the back and a huge skirt with so much tulle built into it that when she sits down, it poofs up everywhere. It is one size too small for Thumbelina. But she loves it anyway because she believes it is fancy and she loves to be fancy.  The resulting look is part Texas Polygamy cult and part Laura Ashley circa 1983. I finally gave in and let her wear it when she told me in her saddest voice that she knew she could only wear it once more because it was just a little too small and could I please, please, please let her wear it today for the last time. I caved. BIG MISTAKE.

Heading to Starbucks, we let the kids pick drive-thru (note the proper pop-culture misspelling) or go-in. They picked drive-thru because they were so anxious to get to the super fun museum with airplanes and spaceships. They promised on their little lives and crossed their little hearts that they would not intentionally pour out their drinks inside the van or dump frothy chocolate on their heads or on each other or collaborate on another evil experiment. They swore. They repeated it back to me. Then they did it anyway - which was super fun until Mommy saw what they were doing and lost her schmidt.  Thumbelina then realized that she now had hot chocolate all over her beloved dress. The first round of wailing commenced.

We had just about settled down twenty minutes later when we arrived at the museum, the cause of so much anticipation and excitement. How did it go?

• When they saw it, they both burst out with exclamations of: "Oh. OK." and "Really? That's it?" and "Is this the place I got my school clothes [i.e., Kohl's]?"   I hoped Cap'n Griswold didn't hear them.  He was still in the magical Oz of Family Fun Day. 

• Thumbelina had chosen to pair her special dress with some white sandals that she soon discovered made a very loud SMACK SMACK with every step she took. So she happily walked as NOISILY as possible and pretended she had no idea what I was talking about when I asked her to stop. So everywhere we went, my daughter (who looked she was raised by Little House on the Prairie reenactors with poor vision) was goose-stepping oddly and accompanied by the SMACK SMACK SMACKITTY SMACK of her feet. We were getting looks. And not the good kind.  She sounded like a large running goose who ran through pancake batter and then happened upon a snare drum. 

• Hawk kept asking if the planes were for good guys or bad guys. When they were deemed good, he would nod sagely and mumble about how they belonged to the Rebel Alliance. If they were deemed bad, he would frown and say "Imperial Forces again, damn it".

Note: The geniuses who designed this museum apparently did not take into consideration acoustics. It’s sort a big airplane hanger with planes suspended from the ceiling and planes on the ground. Planes everywhere. That’s a lot of space to fill up with noise. My kids filled it all up. With noise.

• The baby managed to unbuckle herself from the stroller and run squawking into a large group of geriatric tourists. And when I say squawk, I mean the exact sound that a large, hungry seagull makes.

• Hawk enjoyed climbing over the sign that said: “Do Not Climb” and dangle himself three stories above the concrete floor.  I screamed and snatched him and did not calm down for a full ten minutes. Hawk found the entire incident and my discomposure hilarious and kept saying: "Silly Momma, you know I can't read."  I felt like the Man in the Yellow Hat but without the excuse of raising a monkey. 

• Thumbelina sprinted off twice to run and up down a huge flight of stairs.  She was forced to walk with one hand on the stroller as punishment.  She then spent the rest of the time “accidentally” walking in front of the stroller and then complaining that it hit her.

• The Cap'n was slightly out of breath and carrying a squirmy baby after chasing Thumbelina up and down four flights of stairs.  I commented to her that Daddy looked like he was walking funny, to which she replied: "Yeah. Probably because he's wearing sneakers with that outfit."  Those were mighty big words coming from someone dressed as a Duggar.

• The baby refused to say please the entire day.  No amount of persuading would convince her.  She instead said “mine” and “now” and sometimes said them both in a sequence that sounded exactly like “meow”.

• When asked what they would like to see next, Hawk and Thumbelina both said they just wanted to ride in the elevator for a while.

• Hawk, who spends about 50% of his time entirely consumed with Star Wars, was confronted with actual space suits and an actual space ship and his response was: “meh.”

(The Cap'n was all: "Then I give up.  Because I  can't do better than that.  I can't do better than actual spaceships.")

• Thumbelina was leaning on a railing three stories high and I asked her three times to step back. When she didn’t respond, I walked over and tapped her on the back.  The tap must have startled her, because she let loose the loudest, highest, ear-splitting shriek I have ever heard.  It was so loud that the planes suspended from the ceiling started vibrating. Everyone in the entire museum was like “WTF was that?!”  The security guards all did double takes and several people actually grabbed their chests.  Thumbelina just grinned and said: “Mommy scared me!” then cheerfully went SMACK SMACK SMACK towards the elevator while dressed like a cult member.  It was awesome.

We then went to Red Robin, where the waitress asked us if she could give the kids balloons. Actually, I’d rather she gave them lit cigars. Because I hate balloons. Balloons serve one purpose and that is to make my kids cry. And how am I supposed to say "no" once you ask?  If I deny them balloons, they will whine through the entire meal.  If I say "yes," they will annoy me with their balloons during the entire meal.  Either way – I lose and I’m the one paying so, what the hell?  Also, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to give a baby a long piece of string, even if a balloon is attached to one end? Mini-mini-me had that thing around her neck in two seconds.

So while we ate, we ask the kids what they thought of the museum and what they liked best.
Thumbelina: "Running up and down the big stairs."
Hawk: "Well, actually, none of the stuff I saw was really real. Because it was imaginary. Dat spaceship and stuff – not real. You know dat, right? Dat museum needs to get some real stuff."
Mini-mini-me: "CAW!"

So we finished eating and got in the car and Thumbelina’s balloon immediately popped. She started crying inconsolably and then suggested that if her brother really loved her, he would give her his balloon.  He looked horrified and hugged his balloon tight saying: “No! Balloony is my best friend and he hates girls!” So then she suggested that if he really loved her he would pop it so they could be sad together.  He gave her a Maude face and told her she was crazy in the coconut.  Then she cried some more.  Then the baby started crying because Thumbelina was crying.  Then Hawk started crying because everyone else was crying and also he was scared that Thumbelina might try to hurt Balloony.

I looked at the Cap’n and tried to remind him with a look (as trying to make myself heard was futile) that Family Fun Day was all his idea and therefore all his fault.  He shrugged, fiddled with the iPod and put on David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” and turned it up really loud – so as to be audible over the wailing.  The second the little monsters in the back heard “Ground Control to Major Tom” they stopped crying.  Then they started rocking out (even Balloony) and singing with their eyes closed.

We were still rocking out when we pulled into the driveway.  The kids tumbled out of the van and started racing around the yard yelling: “Best! Day! Ever!” over and over again. The Cap’n looked at me, took a deep breath, raised one eyebrow and said:

“I think we just made a memory.”

Isn't it pretty to think so?  By the next day, the kids could remember next to nothing outside of the elevator, Red Robin and the loss of Balooney's next of kin.  But I couldn't tell the Cap'n.  Silly Cap'n.  He'd made himself a memory.

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Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Return To Sender: Suck it, Victoria's Secret

I bought a swimsuit online. Actually, two. Which is not unusual for me. One, because I'm pretty sure about what I want; and two, because I am NOT standing in some overlit flourescent cubicle with a wimpy curtain as I completely strip down and then use said light in its most harsh way to critique my palid skin.

I'd sooner voluteer to test out the new showers in a women's prison.

No, this kind of humiliation needs to happen at home. With people I know. And love. Who walk into My Closet as I try on Swimsuit #1 and freeze in their respective 6- and 3-year old tracks.

Lefty: "Oh, hiiiiiiiiiii Mom" [looks at me as though something is trying to force its way out of his's a distinct look...]

Happy: "Ewww...boobies" [points]

Clearly, size too small. But thanks little dude. I hustle them out and pull out Swimsuit #2. I'll ask the stupid question. Why? Why does a D cup top have padding? Do I need MORE boob? A's? Definitely. B's? Sure, why not. Even maybe a C, depending what you fancy. But D's?

Here's the thing: I have more boob than face. Lydia, too, has more boob than face. I think that should be enough. In fact, it should be criteria. If you can cover up more of your face with one hand than you can one boob, you. don't. need. padding.

It's sorta like having 5 tires on your car.

Swimsuit #2 was definitely better. Let's be frank. It couldn't get worse. The pattern on the first swimsuit started looking like mini arrows. Arrows that highlighted the route for my tour bus of Fleshy Tragedies. "And, over here, to the hip, we see the railroad tracks of stretch marks that ended the life of Kate's shorts...and here, we see the completely misaligned and asymmetrical Twin Peaks of Nursing. This tragedy occured when Lefty favored -- as you can predict -- Lefty over Righty."

A note of seriousness: No. Bra. Fixes. This.

So, I MacGyvered the damn thing. Took padding from Swimsuit #1. Put it in just the Lefty of Swimsuit #2. Hiked that puppy UP within an inch of its life. That, my friends, is a hard working piece of spandex, or rayon or whatever it is...

Judge Mirror is just waiting for me. Mocking comments at the ready.

OK. Not too bad. Good color. No arrows. Stupid stretch marks. Lefty is seemingly perkier and kinda keeping pace with Righty. Righty is kinda acting like my sister...All tall and peering down her shoulder (if boobs had shoulders) at her little sister. Yes, Bianca, I just compared you to my boob. My good boob.

Hmmm, maybe Swimsuit #1 without the padding? I stare it down. It's little arrows are all ready to jab me at every flaw. Groan.

Oh god it's even worse. Without the padding it's like the slow melt that happens to your ass when you wear scrubs. Even a cute bum melts into your knees. [Lesson here: Pants that are reversible; bad for the rear view.] I didn't realize that padding also served as sort of a Hoover Dam. (Hooter Dam??) because without it, the twins are sorta starting to -- ummm -- seep.

Lefty is rapidly starting to resemble quicksand, sorta "...these are the days of our lives" top half of the hourglass. Where is she going? Because physics says Lefty (boob, not kid) can't just be gone. I peek into the top. Oh, this is very wrong! It's like melty jello! I jam in some padding to stop the fissure.

And then notice three sets of eyes staring at me...worried.

Goodbye Swimsuit #1 (except for the padding, I'm keeping you. Shhh.) I whip out the return form. Handy. Thank you. They must have known. And it gives you all these...wait....oh, hell gives you all these REALLY LAME REASONS for returning it.

11- Wrong Item Shipped
17 - Quality of Fabric
34 - Excessive Fading
35 - Excessive Shrinkage
38 - Do not like Color
40 - Changed Mind
41 - Gift

I just need to rip this up and tell them to go Suck It make a few quick edits...

Action to Be Taken? (First choice: Annihilate with a machine gun.) Fine, I'd like to make an exchange. For my original boobs. You remember them right? Lefty and Righty? You may know them as Shock and Awe? No?
Then how about a coverup? That should solve everything. What size? Do they make it in a tent? Super.

I decided to make a new form.  These are the Mommyland reasons for returning a swimsuit:

03 - Makes Me Look A Heifer
12 - Tragically Enhances Boobs Akimbo Syndrome
19 - Size 6 on Top and Size 14 on the Bottom Resulting in Boob Squishage and Ass Hanging Out
42 - Makes Small Children Cry
51 - Makes Me Cry
61 - I Do Not Wish To Be a Victoria's Secret Crash Test Dummy
72 - Did Not Come With Alcohol As Was Clearly Needed to Process Image of Self in Mirror

Next time, I'm going out to buy a swimsuit. Then I can totally blame the flourescents.

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Tuesday, April 27, 2010

People of Walmart? Meet Lydia of Walmart

I had to go to Walmart today to buy insulated coffee cups (we call them go-cups) like the one you see to the right. My need for these is dire because (1) I drink more coffee than Juan Valdez's donkey and (2) I keep putting them on the top of the van while I'm buckling the baby into her car seat, forgetting about them and then having them fly off the roof of the car while I'm driving (and then I scream: "WHAT THE!?" and then the baby hollers: "Wha da?!") and then the cups get run over, usually by me.

I feel bad for my van, because the Big White Tampon is a nice car and it doesn't like running over things all the time. The BWT also hates going to Walmart because the parking lot is a giant cluster of bad drivers. But I love Walmart. It's like going to a magical land. I never even knew about Walmart and had not stepped foot into a "superstore" of any kind until I was in my 20's. There were none in the town where I grew up in NJ and though you could certainly have driven to one, my mother harbors a deep and abiding dislike for such stores. Except for Target, which she loves. We all understand about Target, though. When I walked into my first "superstore" at age 23, I walked around in an awed daze until the Cap'n came to get me and take me home.

I have never really lost my sense of amazement when it comes to Walmart. And the one near my house is exactly what a Walmart should be - dirty, understaffed and populated with grouchy shoppers. Why am I only the happy person in Walmart? I love it there. It's like Target's boorish, slatternly, overweight cousin. That's why I love it. I just can't go there very often or the magic wears off and also I spend too much of Cap'n Coupon's money and, people, we call him that for a reason.

But back to coffee cups... It's gotten so bad that in the mornings I am actually pouring hot coffee into juice glasses (because they fit in the van's cup holder) and bringing them with me to drop the kids off. Drinking hot coffee out of a juice glass while driving to preschool does not help my coffee-spilling-on-boob-area problem. Also, the Kiss and Ride ladies do not think it's funny. I am pretty sure they think I'm drinking Bailey's even though mostly I'm not.

So this morning, I headed over to Walmart in the pouring rain, baby in tow. I was listening to inappropriate music because Mini-mini-me can't really talk yet, at least not enough to rat me out to her dad like the other kids. While enjoying extremely profane but hilarious hip hop and sipping daintily the last of the coffee from my dinosaur juice glass, I got a text from Kate.

K: What are you doing?
L: Sitting in the BWT w. the baby drinking coffee from a dinosaur and listening to "I'm Awesome" in the Walmart parking lot.
K: [silence]
L: What are you doing?
K: Watching the BBC and being concerned for you.

And there you have our friendship in 5 texts.

I headed into the store and put the baby in a shopping cart (after spraying it down with Purel). I started walking towards cups but got distracted by the clearance rack in ladies clothes. It was a huge rack of yoga pants for $9. I almost blacked out for a minute, I was so happy. I may have skipped over to the rack. One pair went in the cart. Oh! Black fuzzy cardigan for $5! Goody goody gumdrops!

Then I saw shorts for $7. They looked just like some other shorts that were $8. Grabbed both kinds and threw them in the cart. Oooh! Wait! Black cotton t-shirts for $3! Can I get a WOOT?!

I was walking back towards cups when I saw bathing suits. I'll just look a second. Three in the cart. Why? Because my body is a disgusting, amorphous mass after having three kids in five years. So I try on bathing suits all the time in the hopes that one day, I will meet one that does something nice for my battered mid-section and helps show off the jugs a little bit but without too much cleavage. Just a little cleavage, like church cleavage - maybe an inch or two? The girls are pretty much all I have going for me looks-wise these days, except for my recently re-striped hair. I should try this stuff on. Fitting rooms are over there. I will just try some of this stuff on and then go get the cup-cup-cuppity-cups that I will never, ever run over because I am going to be careful. From now on.

I then walked passed an older man and his wife and they looked at the baby with pity in their eyes and it was at that moment that I realized that I was saying everything that you just read OUT LOUD to the baby.

Oh Schmidt. I really need to start sleeping at night.

I looked around and thank goodness it was not crowded. There were maybe ten people in earshot. And they were all looking at me. One of them was holding up her cell phone. It occurred to me that I was now about ten minutes and one YouTube uplink from being one of the "People of Walmart". I looked at the cell phone girl and smiled.

"I'm OK with that! It's OK. I'm a People of Walmart - I get it. Har har!"

She look frightened and quickly walked away.

Oh dear.

Undeterred, I headed over to the fitting rooms and tried everything on. I tried not to talk out loud too much but a few things may have slipped out. Particularly when I tried on the $8 shorts and saw how much nicer they were than the $7 shorts. I explained to the baby that it was because the $8 shorts were fancy. We decided to buy three pairs. I even found a bathing suit that was only mildly nauseating. That was pretty special. Except I may have been talking about my boobs again while trying it on because when I came out of the fitting room the nice gentleman in the blue vest was unable to make eye contact with me and his face was alarmingly red.

Then I remembered I needed to buy stuff for the pre-school fundraiser so I did that. Then as we were heading out I saw some grocery stuff so I bought cheese and peanut butter. In the checkout line I bought a mega-pack of double A batteries and an iTunes card so I could purchase more inappropriate hip hop. I almost bought beef jerky because I love it so very, very much and I usually only eat it on road trips and I forgot you could buy it at Walmart because for some reason I thought they only sold it at gas stations. But I did not buy the beef jerky because I figured if the girl with the cell phone was secretly following me around and filming me she would be all: "Why I am not surprised this heifer is buying Matador Sweet'n'Hot?"

So upon checking out I spent $100.01 on:

*Shorts (fancy variety)
*Bathing suit (jug-enhancing but not Hooter's style)
*Cardigan (turns out it is so soft because it is 100% acrylic - chicka chicka yeah! Classy, y'all)
*Black cotton T (to hide coffee stains on boobage)
*Peanut butter (creamy, all-natural)
*Cheddar cheese brick
*iTunes card (only for songs with parental advisories)
*546 double A batteries
*Sports equipment for preschool (that the baby chewed on but let's pretend it was damp because it's raining)

Yeah Lydia! And I will probably also become an Internet sensation as the newest addition to People of Walmart. It's been a good morning. Now I just have to brave the sh*storm from the Cap'n who does not understand or appreciate why I love Walmart so much and why I spend so much money there on what he considers to be trifles. As I loaded all the great stuff into the van something occurred to me.

I forgot the cups. Typical. I'm Awesome.

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Monday, April 26, 2010

Domestic Enemies of the Suburban Mom

Kate and I were recently hanging out at her house with the kids, watching them play outside and enjoying the gorgeous weather. Everyone was happy and relaxed and it was great. Then something happened that ruined our lovely playdate and turned it all to schmidt.

The motherfunking Ice Cream Truck showed up, music blaring.

Then our children, who were blissfully riding scooters, instantly transformed into miserable, whining wretches who might never be happy again unless a Sponge Bob popsicle with choking hazard candy eyeballs was in the offering. Then the pleading began. There were some tears and some failed negotiations. People, the answer is always NO. It's the same answer you get when I hear the words: Chuck E Cheese. Just no. Stop talking, don't ask again, you can cry about it all day long but the answer is always the same. No no no.

Kate and I then realized that the Ice Cream Truck was but one of a plethora of our domestic enemies. So we decided to discuss them in a post. Here they are:

The Domestic Enemies of the Suburban Mom (Spring Edition)

Let's start with the: The Ice Cream Truck. The least of my issues with the ice cream truck is that it turns well-behaved kids (on the rare occasion that my kids are well-behaved) into whining little weasels. No, my real issues are that 1) I'm pretty sure the guy driving the truck is on parole and 2) the truck looks as safe and sanitary as the room where I keep my intermittently changed catbox and a big bag of hammers. I would not eat anything that came out of that truck and I am a woman who would eat street food in Mexico. I am only buying my kids ice cream from that dude if we're out of Ipecac. Because puking is sure to follow.

Moving onto our next enemy: BUGS. All kinds, but specifically deer ticks, mosquitoes and wasps. The first two piss me off because they are classified as "disease carrying insects" and that pretty much says it all. Let's start with those.

Deer ticks seem to be everywhere this year. Including nether regions. I now have to look for tiny little ticks and bull's eye rashes on areas of my kids I was thrilled not to have to wipe anymore. Awesome. And I feel like I have to because just last week my friend Jane called me with a horrifying story. Her 6 year old son found a deer tick on his Dr. Peeper. So naturally, he started screaming bloody murder. Which brought his father running, who saw the tick and also started screaming bloody murder. Removal was apparently a wee bit unpleasant for all involved. Jane lives on a farm (with livestock) and is not at all squeamish about things that would make me and Kate vomit for days. But this was too much even for her. (I also need to add that when Jane and her husband check each other for ticks, the process is referred to as "Farmer Foreplay" - which is hilarious).

Mosquitoes in my neighborhood are so bad that nothing helps. DEET? No. Skin So Soft? Not so much. Netting around the baby stroller? Surely you jest. These bastards swarm, attack in formation, and leave your children bumpy, red, itchy and complaining. There is a 2 month window (basically from now until around Memorial Day) when you get warm weather and a limited risk of West Nile. After that, you are faced with following dilemma: sweating balls in long sleeves and pants vs. unwilling food source and possible disease vector. It's a lose/lose scenario.

Wasps are big issue for my family. Just last week, the Cap'n stepped on one. He woke up late on a Sunday morning, stepped out of bed and directly onto a big wasp. I heard a ruckus and found him hopping on one foot, holding the other and swearing like Yosemite Sam stepping on a nail. He has a pretty bad reaction to bee stings, so I gave him Motrin and like 3 doses of kids Benedryl. Twenty minutes later, he started slurring his words and claiming he felt "wonky". He staggered to bed and passed out for an hour, waking up as if coming off a bender. Taking him to church a little while later was interesting. He was limping, still slightly slurring his words and easily distracted, noticeably so. I decided not to explain why and just let the congregation draw their own conclusions.

Sun block is so annoying. I know that I am supposed to be strongly in favor of sun block and coat my children in it every day. But really, it's just another pain in my arse. My kids hate to put it on, complain that it smells bad and it's a fight every time. A fight that does not improve the daily cluster of always being late to school. You get the sunblock on them perfectly 100 times and once - just once - a little, bitty, teeny, weeny bit gets into Hawk's eyes and forevermore he runs screaming from the sunblock as if it was sent from hell with the sole purpose of hurting him. And Thumbelina insists that she do it herself and consequently slathers it thickly on some parts, completely neglects others and adopts a sullen, petulant, adolescent tone when I suggest I help her. I just love that tone. So maybe one time I lacked the energy to fight these battles and "forgot" the sunscreen. And maybe Thumbelina is still reminding me about the sunburn that was all my fault two years later.

Road Construction is another thing that does not help me and my chronic lateness. Once the snow melts, the road construction begins. And where I live - road construction is everywhere. And it changes daily.
So perhaps you use deductive reasoning to plan the quickest route to school. And then you realize that you have been screwed because surprise(!) the construction crew that was on Street A yesterday is now on Avenue B and there is no avoiding the men in the orange vests smoking and holding the SLOW signs. [Editor's Note: Not sure if the SLOW sign means for us to go slowly, or they're just telling us they are slow. We assume the latter, but, either way, annoying. - Kate] Apparently the scheduling and placement of road construction crews has nothing to do with logic or reasoning as the task has recently been outsourced to cats in India who are feverishly tapping on iPads bought with federal stimulus dollars. And now it all makes sense. [Editor's Note: Or, even better: And meow it all makes sense. I'll shut up now. - Kate]

Something about this time of year brings with it hundreds of children's birthday parties. Spring is Birthday Party Season and I am already over it. They can be good or bad or in between. They also bring with them the aforementioned Animatronic Mouse known as Chuck E. Cheese. That damn mouse ought to be sued for false advertising. Every morning after "Curious George" I see that d-bag with a bike helmet and a skateboard talking schmidt about where a kid can be a kid. Mouse, please. No one is going to Chuck E. Cheese for invigorating exercise and healthy food. They eat disgusting pizza with extra hydrogenated fats, drink soda and acquire strep infections. It's about as healthy and wholesome as when I go to Five Guys three months pregnant.

But lucky, lucky me. Because every weekend from now until Memorial Day is about sports and parties. And remembering that you forgot to buy a present, breaking the news that siblings are not invited, fishing dollar-store components of the dreaded goodie bag out of the baby's mouth and dealing with the always charming sugar-crash that follows birthday cake and 15 Capri Suns. But I'm returning the favor next month when I throw a party for my own kids and serve - gasp - cotton candy. (Insert evil laugh).

Lawn Zealots (Lawnists) are another favorite. Particularly at 7AM ON A SATURDAY. Aren't there zoning laws or something? Because on the rare day when I don't have to get everyone up for school or church or to wipe a heinie or clean up some nail polish mess, I do not want to hear your stupid LOUD machinery. And the reason you're such a complete Lawnist (though I'll completely concede that your lawn is awesome and beautiful) is because you're not chasing after, cleaning up, wiping, cooking for, or chauffeuring any children. All your time is yours. Which you spend on your lawn. So why do you feel the need to start at the ass-crack of dawn? Hey, how's this? You agree to do the weeding and the pruning and the planting until the completely reasonable time of 11AM, after which you can fire up all your fancy loud lawn devices. And I'll agree to not let my children scream like banshees under your windows and my dog will find another yard to use as his lavatory.

Pollen, you are a green powdery bastard who makes me sick for months. You suck and I hate you and I can't take any medicine to defeat you because anti-histimines make me feel like I am drinking Jack Daniels. See above on how the Cap'n acted after Benedryl. I'm even worse and I'm a trainwreck to begin with. So you win, Pollen. For now...

And lastly, we arrive at Squirrels. In other places, squirrels may be cute and fuzzy-tailed suburban critters. In my neighborhood, they are fat, over-entitled tree rats who dig up my garden and tease my geriatric dog. These little gray bastards leap two stories off trees onto my deck to just to kill my plants. And I really don't know how they do it, because like I said these squirrels are fat. I mean obese. Their Squirrel BMI is 842. They should only be able to waddle slowly, not scamper upside down on branches and then soar through the air like Olympic gymnasts. It's like they're in Cirque de Squirell-A. Little do they know if I had a good BB gun I'd be making a Souffle du Squirelle for my poor dog, who is daily taunted by these a-holes.

I know there are other domestic enemies that make themselves known this time of year, but I am too annoyed to write any more. Because I just heard the damn ice cream truck turn onto the street.

It's fine. I left the bag of hammers by the front door. Bring it ON, Ice Cream Man.

*sigh* I love Spring.


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Saturday, April 24, 2010

T-Box Wrap Up: Special Saturday Edition

Dagney just left. She wisely spent the night because, well c'mon, we had the equivalent of 32 bottles of wine and just eight people. Plus, she opened a bottle of champagne when she arrived, and ANOTHER one when we were cleaning up last night.

I've braved the Showdown with the Coffeemaker and while I haven't gone to check yet, I smell coffee, though it could be just flooding the kitchen and plotting my trip back to November 5th.

Plus, we have photographic evidence, and we're quietly celebrating that the cops didn't come by. Or, I'm assuming we are. Alone. From each of our homes. Because no one is stupid enough to start calling or texting yet. Because sound and light aren't exactly good things right now. I'm wearing sunglassees as I type, waiting for the tylenol to kick in.

Ok, you saw the pretty...on my lovely "porte cochere" (thank you Bianca for that super way-less-dryer-in-the-front-yard description)

And now...the after:

And, for the record, Kate was the first one to chuck the shoes. We felt it was important to point that out.

And, it's just not a complete day in MommyLand if Lydia hasn't spilled something on her boob...

Finally, after eight different wines, eight friends, three very annoyed neighbors, three "designated" drivers (Ellen, one retrieval soon-to-be-husband, and one over-nighter-stayer) we did manage to come to a consesus on the Winner.

Mommys, meet your T-Box Victor. All Hail:

The Mighty Merlot. Rather than smelling of perm, tasting of feet, or used to kill Kate's grass, this wonder of cube technology got us reminiscing about the power of the Third Date...

Rock on with your bad *ass* self Merlot. You are the t-box of choice. Which is why we're pretty sure you're at the top of this t-box totem pole. It's kinda hard to put a crown on the middle guy.

And with that, I'm off to clean the kitchen. Or, sell the house.

xo, Kate (and Lydia, who's totally still sleeping...)

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Friday, April 23, 2010

MommyLand After Dark: The T-Box Taste Test

Good evening mommies! Thank you for joining us. Get ready for drunken banter and rampant mispellings and typos.  WOOT!  We're at Kate's house. Because it was such a beautiful Spring day, we thought we'd hold this little event al fresco in Kate's carport - which is much nicer than it sounds. Oh sorry, Fancy, I didn't mean to call it a carport.  What should I call it then?  I have just been informed that Kate's sister Bianca christened it a "porte cochere" which I'm pretty sure is French for "has a couch in her driveway."

With us tonight are:
Ellen - who you may remember from the incident with the dead bird as well as redecorating Lydia's house. She is awesome and also tonight's designated driver, so therefore the sole player on Team Sober Reason.
Jane - a very dear friend of Lydia's who lives on a 22 acre farm in a beautifully restored historic farmhouse. Whose lovingly renovated kitchen includes a kegerater, thereby making her the coolest person Lydia has ever met. She also has two little boys, one of whom was married to Thumbelina at age 3.
Rebekah - also known as mommyblogger par excellence Mom-in-a-Million. She lives nearby and writes hilarious Twilight posts and likes us in spite of the fact that we are bad at being mommybloggers.
Dagney - Kate's good friend is so adorable and funny that you sort of want your brother to marry her so you can finally have someone normal and awesome to hang out with on family vacations. Until you meet her real husband and then you're all: Dang. Go on with your bad self. Also, the only non-momma in the group.  Still wants kids in spite of the fact that our blog is described by many as birth control.
Emma- Like Kate, she is fit and gorgeous and brilliant and funny. And I dare you not to like her because she's also super friendly and nice. Yeah, I know. That's fair. Thanks God.
The Bride- Another non-mommy but a kindergarten teacher so she as may as well be.  She is about to get married in spite of what we tell her.

May I also share with you that when I was buying all this wine yesterday, the baby had crashed out in the car. So I was pushing her snoozing cuteness in the stroller with eight boxes of wine precariously balanced on top of the stroller. That's the equivalent of about thirty bottles of wine. On top of my baby's head. I am clearly in contention for Mom of the Year. It's between me and Kate Gosselin. I got some looks that were just a little "somebody ought to call the County on her".

Including from the snitchy old heifer who checked me out, who thought she was better than me because she had a name-tag and it said "Manager". I gave her a Maude face and tried to say "Don't judge me" with my eyes but she seemed impervious. So I don't know if I can go back to that particular Target which is fine because I'm sort of pissed at the Target people anyway. Because we asked them to buy the wine boxes for this Taste Test and they said... nothing. So until I stop being bitter about that particular disappointment, you will find me kicking it at Walmart. They sell beer there and I love beer and I don't think they're quite so judgey at Walmart. So I really do love you Target but right now you can sort of suck it because you hurt my feelings for not returning my email.

Moving on...

In a few more minutes, we will begin discussing the varieties of T-Box we have tonight. Kate knows all about wine because where she went to college there was a vineyard and they taught classes about grapes and acidity and pairings and all. All I heard was "blah blah blah drinking for credit" and I was like jeez, I would have graduated early at your college. So Kate will guide us through this wine tasting. Because unlike everything else, we have to take this seriously...

In the meantime, let me tell you that we will be sampling eight kinds of wine tonight. The following descriptions come from the Target website:

Pinot Grigio-Aromatic with a fruity, slightly floral aroma. Crisp, ripe fruit notes, including apple, melon and peach. The Pinot Grigio won Double Gold at the San Francisco Wine Competition in June 2007.
Kate: It smells like feet.
Rebekah: It tastes like the grape juice with Elmo on the box.  Also, Kate's Jimmy Choo's are fierce.
Dagney: It goes really well the cheeze dip.  What does that say?
The Bride: It smells kind of like my class after PE.
Jane: I like it.  It's not as bad as I thought.
Lydia: typing... gulping... bleh.

This is Kate's Not-A-Car-Port

Also, Lydia made a very naughty and profane playlist for tonight that we're all enjoying. With lots of bad words.  Because there are NO KIDS here.  Hee hee heee!!  This is the part where Lydia laughs hysterically.  So one song was Miss Amy WINEhouse singing: "What kind of f*ckery is this?" Which very logically led to a discussion of what that was.  A state of being?  A verb?  A place?  Like: "Please excuse us kids, mommy and daddy need to go to the f*ckery for a little while."   

Chardonnay-Full-bodied and smooth with apples, melon, citrus and a delicate floral note with hints of creamy vanilla.

Kate: Would be awesome were the fact that someone has left my glass empty...oh, never mind... the empty glass tastes better
Jane: Aged in an oak barrel? Maybe a CRACKER barrel...
Rebekeh: I dumped the other one in the grass so I can taste this one.
Kate: Hey, thanks mom-in-a-million grass killer...oh, this smells like boxer shorts
Bride: Smells like ass...speaking of which, where's Happy?
Dagney: Mmm, fertilizer in the morning...or husband taking over the bathroom at night...super

They're talking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer....Lydia is confessing to somehow transforming from Willow to Giles (due to her advanced age). I'm finally, after 6 months of this, stunned into silence...

(Follow up) The Bride:  It smells like butt.  I really just can't drink it.  Let's move on.

Merlot-Medium-bodied, silky and juicy varietal with a fruit profile of red and dark berries, black cherry and boysenberry. A hint of cocoa, vanilla, herbal aromas and a touch of toasty oak character make for easy sipping.

Rebekah: This wine smells like a third date.  The one where you have sex.
Jane: Ripe with sweat and passion. Totally.
Lydia: I would drink this.  Like a lot.  Mmmmm...
Jane: This one makes me want to sip and spit.  
Kate: It doesn't suck.  But I'm on glass 4...  You look really pretty Lydia!  Are you wearing makeup?
Ellen: They're getting tipsy y'all.

--now everyone is talking about Big Bang Theory.  And Modern Family.  Which I don't watch because  Glee is on. --
--Rebekah just told everyone the Unified Theory of Relationships and I missed it because I was typing.  G*d Damn it.--

Let me just say that we are all a little disapointed with Rebekah.  She told us she would not be coming with LawMomma but we were still hoping she would show up.  Because getting drunk in Kate's driveway is totally worth the price of a plane ticket.  Dang it.  We wish she was here.  Dagney reads your blog and is toasting you.   Also, we're totally not dissapointed with Rebekah because of her freaking awesomeness.

Also someone just fell down.
We will be drinking from glasses, y'all. Tonight anyway.

Cabernet Sauvignon-Medium to full-bodied with a complex aroma of subtle spice, cocoa and vanilla notes. A vibrant acidity with rich flavors of ripe dark berries and fruits.

Lydia: Smells nice...woody undertones..and by Woody, I mean my dog. Where's the beer?
Rebekah: It smells like a Payless shoe store.
Jane: You know that lipstick that pretends to plump your lips but really just sets them on fire...yep, just drink this.
Emma: [who's waving her gazelle arms at me] 
Dagney: Suck it fancy I'm drinking...  Where's my bumper sticker?
The Bride: Eat it, I've been funny all night.  Suck it fancy
Lydia: Is there any beer really?

Emma is waving her gazelle arms because she came here directly from the gym.  Where she was taking a pole dancing class.  Yeah.  That's right.

Cabernet Sauvignon/Shiraz-The marriage of two popular grape varieties creates a seamless 50/50 blend. Medium to full-bodied with dark berry richness from plum, boysenberry and cherry and a touch of spice with cocoa and vanilla notes.

--Rebekeh says that her friend told her not to shave her legs so she wouldn't be tempted to put out. Wait a minute.  I missed the beginning of that.  Dang.--

Lydia: Everyone.  Time for the cab/shiraz.  But not too much because this one is my t-box from home.
Dagney: My husband is reading this!!  He just sent me a text: "Was it you that fell down."

Yes, it was.

Dagney: Cocoa and vanilla nuts? Just like I like my men.
Lydia: [chokes - wines comes out of nose]  Cough.  Awesome.
The Bride: It smells like the fertilizer aisle at Lowe's.
Rebekah: It tastes like a bovine antibiotic.
Dagney: Smells kind of like the cadavor lab.  And you can all suck it, because I'm the only one still wearing my Jimmy Choos.
Kate: [alternating between giggling and making kitten hairball noises]
Ellen: The drunker they get, the more refreshing my water becomes.

Somebody just said: "I went down on a woman."

I have no idea if that means what I think it means.

Red and White Sangria- Available in season, the Red Sangria is a blend of premium California red grape varieties, offering a festive bouquet of cherry, cranberry and raspberry flavors. The White Sangria combines a premium blend of California white grapes that offers a sweetly fragrant arrangement with scents of rose petal, lychee fruit, mandarin oranges and apricot flavors.

The ancient dog just came out to relieve himself.  He made the choice to pee in the exact same spot where Kate just poured out her wine.  Hmmm...

Dagney: [just threw up - claims it was spit]  Has anyone ever gotten a perm?  
There is much nodding
Jane: It smells like Greg Brady's hair. 
The Bride: It smells like a Hair Cuttery.
Mimi (who just showed up): It tastes like my baby's juice.
Jane: If your baby lives on skid row.
Lydia: Eeee-yew.  Its gross but good at the same time.  Like Boones's.
Jane: My nose hairs are curling.  It's perming my nose hairs.
Dagney: WTF?  I don't have kid sand I just found a baby wipe in my shirt.
Ellen: Ok... moving on...

Red Table Blend- No description was available on-line but Lydia bought it anyway because it said on the box that was 13.5% alcohol so holy crap.

Lydia here.  Dang.  I just dripped cheeze dip on my boob and was informed that this is called a "nip drip". 

Lydia: Yummy...  wait isss ok.  pretty good.  mmmm...
Mimi: Good, but I did pour it out.
Kate: [sprayed it out like a fountain partially on Dagney] No thanks.  Let's have the Reisling.
Jane: Everyone is pouring it out.  It may be that is sucks.  Or it may be that this their 8th glass.

A couple of people appear to have wondered off.  Where did they go?

Ellen is playing solitaire on her iPhone.

Riesling- White peaches, apricot and tart green apple flavors mingle together to create a taste that has a mild sweetness balanced by good acidity – a pleasure for the palate. With soft aromas of honey and orange blossoms, the Riesling Wine Cube is the perfect complement to spicy Asian or Latin cuisine, light pasta and seafood dishes, or simply enjoyed as an apĂ©ritif.

This is Kate's favorite.  She keeps talking about how much she misses McLovin.  Huh?  I guess she loves Reisling *and* McLovin. 

Jane: It smells bleach.
Kate: You know what that smells like?
Rebekah: It smells like what gas station soap might taste like.
Lydia: Yucky.  It's gross.  I want a beer.

Rebekah is telling a really great story.  It's so awesome.  About thigh-high boots.  

Kate: This doesn't taste like Reisling.  It tastes like a wipey.
Rebekah: Why is mine pink?
The Bride: I am so drunk that it tastes really good.
Mimi: [laughing] Cupcakes?
Jane: I need a brownie to wash the taste out of my mouth.

Lydia here.  I think we're done.  Seriously, because I have been sitting here typing for a long time and when I stand up I might fall over.

Rebekah just said: "I am going to need bigger shoes to accommodate my ass as it continues to drop."  

That's awesome.

Thank you so much for hanging out with us tonight.  We really appreciate it and are sending you HUGE hugs.  Drunken, sloppy hugs.  But still.

Please say a little prayer that the PoPo doesn't come and shut us down.

xo, Lydia & Kate

()Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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