FROM THE BACKSEAT

Conversation with The Girl...

Me: Guess where Auntie V went last weekend?

TG: Where?

Me: Las Vegas!

TG: Without you?!?!?

RIGHT ABOUT NOW

Right now The Girl is making animal finger puppets dance in the kitchen. They are grooving to Fatboy Slim's The Rockafeller Skank. I asked her if she wanted me to put on a different song and she said, "No way! This is totally perfect." Totally. And the hippo puppet has mad dance skillz.

OMG: THE FATE OF YOUR SOUL

I took this quiz on Beliefnet because it says:

Even if YOU don't know what faith you are, Belief-O-Matic™ knows. Answer 20 questions about your concept of God, the afterlife, human nature, and more, and Belief-O-Matic™ will tell you what religion (if any) you practice...or ought to consider practicing.

Warning: Belief-O-Matic™ assumes no legal liability for the ultimate fate of your soul.

And the results are in...
My beliefs most closely align with the Unitarian Universalists (100%) which I figured. But surprisingly, bringing up the rear at #27 was the faith in which I was raised, Roman Catholic. In fact, I'm more aligned with the Orthodox Jews (20%) than Catholics (15%). Boy, those nuns that taught me for 12 years of Catholic school and the priests who said mass for the 18 years I attended sure got a failing grade when they tried to save my soul.

What's your spiritual alignment?

LEGENDARY

More stories of note from our LEGENDARY trip to Las Vegas:

All cocktail waitresses at Bally's are old. I mean 65+ old. There was one who was probably just 50, but she had a knee brace. It's where old cocktail waitresses go to die. One night we nicknamed our cocktail waitress Grandma (no to her face of course!). But we had an even older one (70+) on our last night. She was called Grandma's Grandma and had wicked pencil-outlined lips filled in with a nasty light pink. She would hover next to you until you tipped after each drink. We also decided that they would be better off (as would we) if Bally's let their cocktail waitresses ride Rascals. Just think of all the drinks they could carry!

I initiated V into the wonders of Deadliest Catch thanks to their Labor Day marathon. Dude, that show rocks. Especially when you are wasted in Vegas.

The customer service at Bally's was exceptional. The front desk gal got us into adjoining rooms. The Spa attendant was hysterical. The Spa manager was fun. The dealers rocked. Even the one from Minnesota! The only downside to Bally's...no restaurants or room service after midnight. WTF? V & I had to go to the vending machine at 1 a.m. when a wicked case of the munchies hit.

Favorite dealers at Bally's: Ladanna, Pinky (swear to gawd), Minnesota guy. We actually shouted down a dealer who thought it was her turn to take over his table. HE'S JUST ON BREAK. HE'S HERE TILL 4!!!! We wanted Minnesota guy back. And we got him.

Favorite table mates: V of course, who never hits on a 16 and sometimes hits on a 14 when the dealer is showing a 3 (GAH!); impeccably dressed Jewish mommy of 2 from Dallas who asked if V was my friend. Then asked if she knew she was "FUCKING the table taking that hit?" Priceless. Also her husband stood at the table a while and commented that they never met people like them (I assumed cynical, dirty, mocking and very drunk); also enjoyed the company of the late 40s gal from Minnesota who sat down and said she was "kind of quiet." By the end of the hour she was asking where that "fucking waitress" was with her beer and hollering each time she won. I live to teach, people.

But by far, the hot doctor who played blackjack with us until 4:30 a.m. was the icing on the cake. An adorable 30-year-old orthopedic surgeon from DC sat down at our table and nearly charmed the pants off all of us. Seriously. OK, so he was just a resident, but still hot. When a Japanese tourist tried to sit in V's chair while she was in the restroom, Doc let him know it was taken IN JAPANESE!!! Right then and there I told him he was so hottttt I could kiss him on the mouth. He giggled and said he had been stationed in Okinawa. WTF? Oh yeah, he had been in the military. He was married, but contemplating divorce since his very successful surgeon wife took a job in another state. Oh you poor, good looking, sweet, sweet doctor man. Rest your awesome head on my shoulder and just let it all out. Mmmmmm...hot vulnerable doctor. I actually asked if he wanted us to make a doctor sandwich. Again, seriously.

THE GREAT RASCAL CAPER

V & I met up for a four-day, three-night stay in Vegas. No hubby, no kid and three comped spa treatments each. Food, drinks, antacid, fun. Legendary.

A couple days before departing, I read this story about people renting motorized wheelchair/scooters (like the Rascal) in Vegas because they are too lazy to walk a million miles down The Strip to get their next gigantic frozen daiquiri in a yard-long plastic Eiffel Tower or Stratosphere replica. Lazy fucks. Grab a taxi like the rest of us or go join the Midwesterners on the sidewalk. That got me thinking (and drinking) and talking with V. We decided we needed to Rascal-jack someone. Not the healthy but lazy folks. No, we wanted to jack a person who really needed it since we would have a better chance of out running them due to disability or age. We really wanted a Rascal of our own and decided that the elevator would be our best bet for a successful Rascal-jacking. Just get in, then push the person out of the Rascal and exit on the next floor, leaving the Rascalee laying in the elevator unable to follow. Of course we would hit the button for the top floor giving us just a little more time to elude capture before the Rascalee could claw to the emergency phone. But alas, no Rascal riders ever fell prey to our deviously simple plan. But damn if we didn't laugh until Bailey's shot out of our noses every time we passed a Rascal in the casino.

Legendary. More stories to follow.

NEWS & NOTES

We went to Disneyland last week with the in-laws. I've posted some of the pictures on flickr. I'll recap soon enough, including a story of how NOT to traumatize your child (duh, maybe don't take her on Pirates of the Caribbean?!?!). We are bad parents.

Since the original "witch" encounter with The Girl last month, I have seen the witch lady three more times around town (sans hat). I just don't have the heart/balls to make eye contact or say hello. I also don't have the balls to take another look at her feet to see if she has taken care of those nasty toenails.

The Girl has said frickin' a couple more times. Since I didn't have a chance to freak out the first time, after the most recent incident I said, "That is a bad word. You aren't supposed to say it." And she asks, "Which word? Frickin? That's a bad word? Huh." She also said, "Holy crap!" the other day. Yep, that's my doing as well. At least I know she listens to me sometimes.

The Girl's preschool is over for the semester. She starts a four-week summer session this week but after that...dun, dun, dun...it's all me, all the time until mid August. Oh how I love late August. Luckily I can toss in some swimming lessons and another round of tap dance classes to give me a chance to lounge about for 45 minutes a couple times a week.

MATH GENIUS

The Hubby & I can't do math. That's why we both went into journalism (he editorial, me PR). I have an absolute mental block on my eight and nine times tables. I think I missed that week in 3rd grade. Seriously. Dear departed Sister Columba was a short, stout Irish nun who taught me quite a bit, but failed to add the times tables to my rote memory despite the wooden pointer and vocal repetition. So this is what it's come to I guess...

We are going to have to buy/make these t-shirts for The Girl.

OPERATION AGGRAVATION

This is what The Girl's agenda looked like on Friday:

• 6 am - wake up early (WTF? I usually sleep til 7:30! oh well!) and watch PBS while Daddy tries to snooze on the couch with me
• 7 - wake Mama up again, this time using the patented Cock-a-doodle-do (CADD) Method; Daddy goes back to bed
• 7:15 - annoy Mama by peeing in the shower (with Mama is in the shower too)
• 7:45 - wake Daddy up again using the CADD Method
• 8 - Cuddle up on couch wrapped in towels and comforter to watch more TV
• 8:30 - start snoring on the couch when Mama tries to feed me breakfast
• 9 - wake slowly and grudgingly as Mama tries to put tights and leotard on for tap class
• 9:30 - Wolf down a pb&j on the way to Starbucks (sheesh! Mama HAS to have a chai) then decide I need to pee just as we are getting back into the car
• 9:45 - tap my little heart out
• 11 - begin full frontal assault on Mama's nerves while at Costco by trying to touch everything and refusing to stay seated in cart (despite bribe of gum)
• 11:45 - back at home completely undress in order to go potty; get body wedged in toilet, butt in the water; drop tiara in toilet as I am helped out of predicament by Mama; gleefully climb into the bathtub for second bath of the day
• 12-12:45 pm - ignore hearty lunch, ignore new chalk for blackboard and continue to annoy Mama during her computer time
• 12:50 - ask to draw with chalk on front porch but actually run away to neighbor's house
• 12:52 - grudgingly return home when nosy neighbor thinks I shouldn't be outside alone
• 12:53 - Mama is mortified! Hahahahahahaha!
• 1:30 - wear Mama down so she agrees to take me swimming with friend
• 2-3 - as I get into the pool, say "The water is frickin' warm!" in front of friend and parent of friend; get out and pee on the grass behind planter at the pool (cuz I can't just pee in the pool like the rest of the frickin' kids); jump back in; swim; swim; swim; unknowingly splash Mama a lot; continue splashing after Mama points it out and asks me to stop; swim really well; jump in to Mama more
• 3-3:30 - get out, get dressed, have snacks, head for home
• 3:45 - look at fish store before going to Von's; writhe on floor after viewing all fish and anemones, dirtying pants a little
• 4 - continue Operation Aggravation in the brief 5-minute trip to Von's by first laying in the basket of the cart, then repeatedly squirming, completely dirtying my THIRD outfit of the day in the process.
• 4:30-5 - blah blah OpAg still going strong; play in backyard; chase cats around the yard; plead several times to be liberated from toy-filled backyard to unsafe & unmonitored front yard; say please; find only muddy spot in yard and squish it between toes; wipe most off outside, but attempt to "wash" feet in toilet; make mess; yell for help from mom; enjoy third bath (not counting swimming pool); eat apple & juice in the tub!
• 5:30 - Mama said I can't get out of bathtub until Daddy is home.
• 5:32 - Get out of bathtub without telling Mama. Oops, Dad's not home yet. Play in room with blocks and other fun stuff completely naked and wet because Mama says she's too crabby to deal with me.
• 6 - Daddy's home! Greet him as long lost hero.
• 6:02 - Begin Operation Aggravation on Daddy.
• 6:10 - Walk with parents to dinner up the street; dawdle; lose one fuchsia croc in middle of crosswalk as 10 cars wait; get indignant; drive Daddy over the edge while Mama walks ahead acting as if she doesn't know us; cry
• 6:30 - eat; talk loud; try to escape under table (BTW did you know there is gum under there?); put shoes on table; put feet on table; attempt to lay on table
• 7-8 - back at home try to stay away from Mommy and play only with Daddy, per Daddy's stern directions; follow Mama from room to room asking for stuff and telling her stories
• 8:30 - attempt to draw out bedtime by asking to read one million books; agree to three books
• 8:45 - lights out; tell Mama I'm not tired and run to Daddy; eat yogurt
• 9 - plead for teeeeeeveeeeeeee; get put back in bed; continue to anger Mama by saying "I'm not tired" despite red, droopy eyes and multiple yawns
• 9:02 - Uh oh, Mama called Daddy in for backup. Grudgingly go to sleep with mean Daddy while mean Mama does laundry.
• 9:05 - dream of ways I can perfect the CAAD Method and continue OpAg on both parents. Look sweet while sleeping.

So to recap: three baths, innumerable outfits, a tiara in the toilet, a stuck kid in toilet, feet in toilet, swimming, tap dance, eating, playing, making me crazy. Today was a bad one. Naps must be worked back into the rotation. Maybe tomorrow will be better. On the bright side, no one died.

I'LL GET YOU MY PRETTY

The Girl has been collecting Wizard of Oz dolls from the McDonald's Happy Meals. OK, so kill me, I have been collecting them! Hey, they are Madame Alexander. That used to mean something (before they sold their soul to corporate hell and outsourced to China, said the childhood collector). Anywho, we have a veritable plethora of Wicked Witch dolls (four) because she won't let me switch them at the drive-thru window as I paw through the bag. The Girl thinks The Wicked Witch is quite pretty, and aside from the fact she is green, this Madame Alexander version is cute. The Girl has not seen the movie, so she thinks witches are pretty and nice and dress in black.

Cue the uncomfortable scene at the grocery store...

Minding our own business in the produce section, we pass an older lady wearing an oddly shaped black straw hat, a billowy black gauze shirt over white capris, with black open-toe sandals. Suddenly, The Girl announces, "Hey mom, that lady looks like a witch!" I died. Then I quietly added, "Huh huh huh. She's really into the Wizard of Oz and loves the witch. Um sorry. Huh huh huh, ahem." Then I died again. The lady said in a boozy Southern drawl and one wandering eye, "That's fine. She can call me a witch anytime."

For some unknown reason as I retreated, I took a quick peek at her feet. And what did I see? LONG TOENAILS! Giant freakishly long yet unpainted or filed toenails. TOENAILS A WITCH WOULD HAVE. Then I barfed. And died again.

CONFESSIONS OF AN NPR NERD

I love NPR in a big way. The Girl loves NPR. I have even turned The Hubby into an NPR news enthusiast (which is different from me, since I also have BIG love the non-news stuff). My BIG NPR love is also directed at Ira Glass. There is nothing better than listening to This American Life, while sipping a Starbucks' chai in my driveway, all alone with Ira. You know how that goes: You're driving home from running a few errands on Sunday, listening to a great story about an abandoned house or misspent youth or lottery fever. You have been lulled into a semi-trance by Ira's sorta-nasal but very charming voice. Then, damn, you've arrived home. But Ira's siren song is too strong. You can't turn him off. You must listen to the remainder of the story in your car despite the fact you have subscribed to the podcast. So you just relax, sit back and sip your chai, letting the warmth of Ira Glass wash over you along with the sunshine streaming in from your sunroof. And you let the neighbors wonder.

Whew, I'm spent. OK, back to reality. This American Life is now on Showtime. Now we can all watch as Ira Glass delivers his funny little introductions, gives an endearing giggle when tickled by an unexpected turn of his guest's story, or interjects personal quips into their tales. Oh, Ira, you sweet, sweet man-child.

And enjoy this article by Sarah Hepola on Nerve.com. Very funny and Glass-o-rific. And until I read in her piece that Ira Glass is married, I too held out hope that one day our paths would cross and we would fall madly in love. Nerdy, witty, aural love. A love that is fueled by the fact that there are funny but sad stories all around us that need to be heard.

PS - I also have a secret (well, not anymore) crush on long-time TAL contributer Sarah Vowell. Her wit is drier than vermouth, she loves history, has an odd voice and is friends with Conan O'Brien and They Might Be Giants. Plus, she was an animated superhero. F'n A! She rocks.

THE KID ATE MY BRAIN

The Hubby was in Arizona for four days on his annual man trip with his two best buddies, watching baseball, drinking beer and eating wings. I am drained. I got nothin' left, people. My brain hurts from playing games and coloring and talking to the four-year-old who NEVER STOPS TALKING! And my dad came for a visit so I actually had two kids for part of the time. I shit you not, he really asked, "Were you about to get up and get some ice cream, honey? Because if you are, I'll have some too."

OK, maybe a tidbit of preschool humor...

We used to tell The Girl to put her shoes on by reciting, "No shirt, no shoes, no service." So the other day, I asked her to put them on so we could go out to eat, adding "Because you know what will happen at the restaurant. No shirt, no shoes..."
"NO PANTS!" she answered.

We went to one of those yummy Benihana-style places for dinner a while back. The chef chopped fast and did lots of tricky things while grilling our food, including the onion volcano which was "SO KEWL" according to The Girl. We brought home a couple pairs of chopsticks because she thought they were also kewl. She's not very adept with the chopsticks, as expected. But the best part is that she has renamed them pork chops. "Mom, look! I'm using my pork chops to eat!" Splat. Snicker.

THE BESTEST

The Girl has recently begun to use superlatives. I am, apparently, the "bestest mom" she has ever had. After pointing out that I am the only mom she has ever had, she claimed I am the "bestest and the onlyest mom" she ever had. Orneriest is more like it, but I don't think she quite gets my humor. Last night's superlative-filled love fest had to take the cake. And I quote:

"You are the bestest mom with the bestest boobs ever."

You hear that insecurities? Huh? I AM THE BESTEST. AND SO ARE MY BOOBS! So boo-ya, low self-esteem. And take a hike doubt. There's a new sheriff in town. And her boobs rock.

CLOWNS DIE, HILARITY ENSUES

With CNN writing headlines like this, I don't even have to come up with anything witty...

Two clowns shot dead during performance

HEY JOE RACIST - WHO ARE YOU ROOTING FOR?

Hooray, hooray! The Colts and Bears are headed to the Superbowl. Honestly, I don't follow either team closely. I am just THRILLED, however, that there are racists everywhere just seething that two black head coaches are facing off for the first time in the Superbowl.

Of course in this day and age it shouldn't matter whether they are black, white, or green with purple polka dots, but unfortunately it still does matter.

Really the Superbowl is just a way to ease racist/sexist idiots into the next big event that will likely become racially-charged even though it should be about experience and integrity...the 2008 presidential race. Good Lord, we've got a woman, an African-American, and a Hispanic.

I love America!

I HEART NACHOS, BUT NOT THAT MUCH

Christmas list possibilities:

Nacho machine $329
Cheese dispenser $493
Cheese Goo $50
6-lbs Chips $13
132-oz Jalepenos $18
Heartburn...priceless.

THE WORLD ACCORDING TO THE GIRL

The Girl said all these things in the past couple days. I swear. She is three. I swear.

"If you put something on your lap and it rolls off, that's gravity."

"Do you know what is extinct? Dinosaurs are extinct. Extinct is dead. The dinosaurs are all angels now."

"Listen to that noise, Mom. (Notice humming from a transformer on a power line) It's the beavers! Hurry, get in the car before they get us!"

"Dad, you are a really big dad. And you're old."

"We can't eat a turkey on Thanksgiving. It's not nice to eat animals."

HORRIBLE & AWFUL

This is really horrible and awful, so of course you need to go see the squirrel decanter. I share good things with my friends. Or not.

$10 LAME GIFT CHALLENGE #2

People! I have no entries into the $10 Lame Gift Challenge! Are you trying to make me feel like a bigger loser than I already do? Remember, I am a SAHM, suffer from low-self-esteem and depression. C'mon already. Throw me a frickin' bone here. Ok, enough begging.

For your pleasure, more lame gifts you would not want to give or get.

Johnny Cell Phone Holder
"This colorful little guy works hard holding cell phones. He can also double as a business card holder. A great friend to have at work because he just sits quietly and purposefully, unlike those annoying coworkers of yours. $4.00"

Zippered Pencil Case -Single
"Cotton pencil/pen case. Fits 1-2 pens/pencils. Colorful zipper accent. Perfect space-saving invention for carrying your pens and pencils in style. We love this pen/pencil case for keeping our handbag tidy. Measures 6 3/4 inches long. $3.50"

$10 LAME GIFT CHALLENGE

I am throwing down the holiday shopping gauntlet. This is an interweb challenge of Biblical proportions. OK, maybe just smallish proportions for my pals. Your task is to find the lamest gift for $10 or less. The product must be available online (linkey-goodness!) and cannot be on a gag-gift-type site. And no, you freaks, the cost of shipping does not need to be included!

I will start off the festivities with a few favorites:

Crumb Sweeper "eats" its way across your table! Cute hand-held cleaner is battery powered to whisk away those little tidbits that remain after the plates are cleared. Your table will be ready for the next course in seconds! Reservoir is easy to empty. Comes with 2 AA batteries. 6" L. Wipe-clean plastic.

Was $9.98 Now: $6.50 at Harriet Carter

Whimsical Kitties dress up any lampshade! Frolicking cats with their shimmering hats will turn any lampshade into a conversation piece. They're as much fun as real kittens at play. Each of the three climbing cats is 4" H.



$9.98 also at Harriet Carter

This one just missed the cutoff, coming in at $12.98

This faithful friend stands guard over your remote control! You'll never lose the remote with this adorable holder always at the ready with outstretched "paws". Choose from 4 popular dog breeds -Pug, Black Lab, Dachshund, and Yorkie - each featuring lifelike details. Approximately 8" H.





You can post a link in the comments section or link to your blog if you plan to post it there. Spread the love, people. I expect some serious lameness. There may be a prize! But that's highly unlikely. I will however post more "gifts" until Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, etc. are all just a blurry memory of giftcards and eggnog.