What should we do today, Ivy?
Same thing we do every day, Mommy. Try to take over the world!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
With nuk, and sans nuk.
Ivy rediscovered her nuk this morning. YAY! She's bounce-bouncing in her ExerSaucer and nom nom nommming on it, while watching Sesame Street. I'm getting lots of smiles. Hey...Snuffleupagus is on! Rock. I love Snuffy. Do people know he's not imaginary now? Uh oh...Snuffy accidently sold Radar, Big Bird's bear, to The Count...heartbreaking! Yesterday was a Monday, in every sense of the word. I had wine the night before while watching le Oscars, and...
Oh no. The Count gave away Radar to a monster. This is not good.
Anyway, me+alcohol=next day depression. I know this. I mean, I thought I did. I didn't think about it Sunday night. Yesterday I found myself paralyzed with fear/emptiness, trying to care for a cantankerous baby with a cold and staring down a house that looked like a tornado had hit it. The poor little girl had been up since five, so she was exhausted but wouldn't sleep. I was exhausted but couldn't sleep. It was one of those days where you feel like you're drowning in your life, and are powerless to affect any change in it. This isn't true, obviously. It was a hard day and everyone has them, and it's ok. When I have hard days, one of the worst things I tend to do it beat myself up endlessly for it, making it ten times worse than it has to be. I was worn out by my sick kid, therefore I'm a terrible mother. I didn't clean anything, therefore everyone who lives with me will hate me because I'm obviously lazy. I didn't do schoolwork, so I'm never going finish my degree. I felt alone yesterday, therefore GOD HAS FORSAKEN ME! (have you taken out the violins yet?) Those are some pretty harsh standards to live under...if I was that hard on someone I love, I wouldn't be a very good friend. But I treat myself like that all the time.
Ivy is dangling her bunny on the ground and just discovered what happens when she lets go...no more bunny. :( Mama can fix that, at least.
Good day, fellow crewmembers on Spaceship Earth! Well, it's Hump Day, Babymanac is spitting at me, and I've had three cups of coffee. Squeeee! Today we focus on 'Easy Targets,' or people whom we shouldn't really make fun of because they aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but we're going to anyway because it's MY BLOG, DAMMIT. To paraphrase a favorite blog of Girlmanac's: spare the snark, spoil the morons.
Dear Girlmanac, I make an effort to show compassion and love to everyone I know. However, there is a woman in my life whom I SIMPLY CANNOT STAND. She's insincere, annoying, shrill, and I try to avoid her, but she's EVERYWHERE! How do I overcome the fiery hot rage I feel every time I see or hear about her?
Fuming in Falcon Heights
Dear Fuming, Boy, do I hear what you're singing, turtledove! And I must add that you really don't have to be anonymous with me; I ALSO hate Elisabeth Hasselbeck. You're right, of course: she's so insincere butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. (I don't know what this expression means, but I heard it one time and I enjoy using it.) It IS difficult to avoid Ms. H.Beck; she's everywhere! The webs are filled with her smirky face, her grating soundbites, and her chirpy regurgitated "opinions" on everything from politics to parenting, which are often tied together. The grim reality, Fuming, is that whatever you think of her opinions, she rakes in money for the network, and she isn't going anywhere. It's insulting that the lone conservative voice on the View is so uninformed and inarticulate: not ALL conservative women are morons, but we get them shoved down our throat regularly, from Hasselbeck to Sarah Palin to Ann Coulter. (It could be argued that Ann Coulter is not a moron, and in fact she really isn't. She's just despicable, so she is lumped into my Ball of Fury, which is possibly not fair, but again, MY BLOG.) The only thing to do, darling, is turn off your TV! This is what Girlmanac has done. Sorry, Whoopi and Joy: I love you, but I can't support your co-host. When Girlmanac doesn't particularly care for someone, she pretends they don't exist, and this is the best advice I can offer about Ms. Hasselbeck. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all, is my motto. She will someday fade away into obscurity. Until then, I leave some of her gems for your catharsis:
Dear Girlmanac, I live on a residential street in Minneapolis, and I'm confused about how public santitation works. For instance, when I clean out my car, I just throw the trash on the street, because what else would I do with it, right? Also, I put garbage in the alley behind my garage. I have a sneaking suspicion that the world might be my own personal toilet! Do you think it is?
Trashy on Taylor
Dear Trashy, I hate to get all Judgy McJudgerton on you, but you are actually not good at being a person. I'm not saying you're a bad person, per se, but you are simply not skilled at being a human being. Also, you have disgusting practices. See what I did there? I didn't imply that your character is disgusting, merely that you were obviously raised in a shed, because to be raised in a barn you would at least know where your shit goes. Here are some tips for self-improvement: 1. Purchase some trash bags from your local merchant. If you can't afford trashbags, fear not! They actually give bags away for free when you buy groceries! This is an insane concept, I know. But really, I'm not yanking yer chain! It's true! 2. Place waste products (not poop) in bags. When they are filled, place them in the dumpsters behind your house! A person in a truck will come and take them away for you. It's gloriously easy! 3. If you have waste product that is recyclable, these go in separate containers. You see, technology is such now that you can...you know what? Let's save that lesson for next week. Baby steps!
Dear Girlmanac, I think it is a good idea to give people nicknames. That way, they feel that you like them, and all you had to do was come up with a goofy name for them! However, I'm running out of ideas, and I think I need a system for this. Do you have any ideas?
Namin' in Northfield
Dear Namin', Nicknaming people is one of my favorite pastimes! I must caution you, however: do not give people nicknames whom you don't like. It's too much to remember, and a waste of time. Here is a sure-fire and popular way of nicknaming people: take the first initial of their first name, and the first syllable of their last name. Voila! You have a nickname! Examples:
Todd Springer= T-Spring Kelli McLeod= K-Mac Laura Geislinger= L-Geis
But what if you have a friend whose last name is one syllable? You get creative! Ivy Mae Schwartz= I-Schwazz OR, you take the first letter of their first name and simply add a silly word to the end of it.
From above: T-Rex K-Sauce L-Crunch
I also like the suffixes -Chicken, -Attack, -Town, and -Factor.
This is a no-fail plan for nicknaming. You're welcome!
Another day, another opportunity to enlighten my dear readers with my sage wisdom.
Dear Girlmanac, I'm what's known as a "hipster." I'm weighing the pros and cons of wearing camouflage hotpants in public. What do you think?
Uppity in Uptown
Dear Uppity, Thanks in advance for your candor and willingness to share your fashion insecurity on the intertubes. (For those of you unfamiliar with Uppity's terminology, "hotpants" are very short-short shorts.) And in answer to your question: NO NO NO NEVER EVER EVER. I don't care if you have the gams of Betty Grable. Or Neko Case, to speak your language. First of all, it is January in Minnesota. There should be pants on your stems AT ALL TIMES, and if you MUST go pantsless, please wear some heavy cabled tights. I understand this doesn't always "jive" with your "mojo," or whatever the kids are saying nowadays. I'm sorry, but I really must be a Prissy Patty on this subject. PANTS. Live it. Love it. Learn it. Also, wearing thigh-nigh boots probably help with the warmth issue, but they still necessitate you wearing SHORTS IN THE WINTER. If you are in the comfort of your own home playing some crazy sex game that involves rollerskates and an order pad while attending to your partner's "car" under an "awning" while you crack chewing gum in your non-existent jowels and take his or her "order," then by all means, rock the hotpants. Alternatively, if you are a Roller Girl and are skating in a bout, by all means, wear hotpants. Either way, hotpants really should involve rollerskates. Otherwise, please do not assault my eyeballs in public.
Love, Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac, While in a single-toilet public restroom the other day, I discovered that the person before me had dropped the log fantastic and had not flushed. When I tried to flush, the toilet became clogged. I was so embarrassed! How do I leave the restroom without the whole establishment thinking I had committed the crime???
Humiliated in Ham Lake
Dear Humliated, I particularly appreciate this question, because it serves as a useful public service announcement. Namely, put a little love in your heart, people! Either don't poo in public (best option) or try to unclog it! Don't leave it for a sista to deal with; that's just bad form. Second, if you are the victim of a Stealth Poo, you have two options. First, you can leave the restroom and loudly say, "Whoa! Someone took a huge dump in there and it WAS NOT ME, and now the toilet won't flush!" Or, you can just leave. Might be your best option right there. Really, everyone: Take responsibility for your bodily functions.
Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac, I am confused about birth control. I hear you are an expert. I keep switching my methods, and can't decide on one I like! What do you recommend?
Sexin' in Stillwater
Dear Sexin', You're right! I am indeed an expert on birth control, and have been referred to by several anonymous people as a "Fertile Myrtle." I count myself lucky in one sense; I most likely will not have to worry about conceiving again in the future. On the other hand, birth control is no joke for folks like me. We will get pregnant if you breathe on us. SO. First of all, STOP SWITCHING BIRTH CONTROL. This results in babies. Trust me on this one. Also, it will mess up your hormones. But again, babies. Will. Result. Second, get an IUD. They last for five years, are just about fool-proof, (and I'm a fool, so I should know) and take no remembering or work at all on your part. Go to the doctor, and he or she will insert this tiny one-inch Miracle into your Uterus. You may or may not feel a slight pinch, (I didn't) and you may or may not have some menstrual-like cramps afterwards, (I did) but it's what works for me! I know you've heard all about the Big Bad IUD's of the 80's and 90's, but those IUD's have been taken off the market and sold to third world countries in Africa, so no worries! The New American IUD's are plastic and tiny and don't cause endometriosis or cancer. Or babies.
Hello, Alert Readers! Apologies from Girlmanac HQ...I have been remiss in posting as of late, but the holidays/angst/mommying has gotten in the way of my mailbag. But, we're back, and like the '80's, better than ever! So let's get down to it, shall we?
Dear Girlmanac, I am a pedestrian who frequents an area of Minneapolis informally referred to as "Seven Corners." I am vaguely aware of the existence of pedestrian traffic laws, but honestly, I don't understand them. I don't really get what all these colored lights mean, nor do I understand the "symbols" I encounter at said lights. And really, aren't pedestrian laws more like "unwritten customs"? I don't really need to follow them, right?
Wranglingly, Strolling in Seven Corners
Dear Strolling, Ah, yes. YOU. I know you. I see you often while driving with Babymanac. I will sometimes comment to her about how I wouldn't mind schmucking you with my car, were it not verboten in the sense that it would constitute vehicular manslaughter, and really, who needs that on their record? Not this girl. So for the sake of keeping everyone safe and free from the roiling rage one might feel while watching you JAYWALK ALL THE FUCK OVER CHRISTENDOM, I will now do a mini-tutorial on the Etiquette of Traffic Lights:
1. a "Red" light means, "Don't walk, you simpering moron, because there are cars coming, as THEY HAVE A GREEN "AS IN GO" LIGHT. You may also note the red "DON'T WALK" signal, located underneath the red light. 2. A "green" light MAY mean "walk," but hey! Make sure you also look at the lane of cars next to you, for they may be turning. It is best to walk when there is 3. A WHITE PERSON-SHAPED SYMBOL. It will be solid, not flashing.
Hope this helps you not die! :)
Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac, I've been feeling this free-floating, intense anxiet for the past several weeks. I can't sleep, I can't eat, my palms are constantly sweaty, and my mind is always racing. My baby is growing teeth, and I'm behind in my graduate classes...HELP!
Blargh,
Tweeking on Taylor
Dear Tweeking, Dollface, you have what I like to refer to as "White Girl Ennui." There are several steps you can take to relieve the stress of being white, educated, and privileged. To expand:
1. Suck it up. 2. Chill the fuck out. 3. Get someone to take your baby for one or two days a week. 4. Do a lot of yoga. 5. Have as much sex as possible. 6. Remind yourself that you love your child more than life itself, and you're doing the best you can. 7. Thank the Higher Power Of Your Choosing for everything you've got, you ungrateful wench! 8. Ignore mothers who say they have it all figured out and it's easy. These people are unlikeable and will be punished by God.
Happy Homemaking!
Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac, I really want some specific things for Valentine's Day, but I don't know how to tell my boyfriend. I want him to make me a mix tape, because I've never gotten one, but you can't really "ask" for something like that, right? Also, I want this pair of earrings I saw...I feel like Valentine's Day is one of those holidays where you shouldn't expect anything because it isn't a "real" holiday. What should I do?
Sincerely, Stymied in St. Paul
Dear Stymied, You're right: Valentine's Day isn't a real holiday. You shouldn't expect anything. However, we have unfortunately been trapped into feeling like Big Jerks if we don't do something special for our significant others, because at the end of the day, you really shouldn't NEED an excuse to do something special and thoughtful for your significant other. Has it occurred to you that you may not be the "mix CD" type? That your beauty simply doesn't invoke men to make mix tapes/CD's for you? This is a sad fact, but one you may have to come to terms with. If you're almost 30, and no one has ever made a mix CD for you, maybe it's time to get the net, as it were. Also, if I know you, and I feel like I do, someone in your life has probably already taken all the good songs and put them into mix CD's for THEIR significant other, so you'd just have sloppy seconds on the mix CD's and be forced to think of these OTHER people, instead of you and YOUR significant other. Not that this has ever happened to me. It's just something to think about. But the earrings? Good idea. And if you want a mix CD, I can make one for you. :)
Hello, babies! It's been a tragic week here at Girlmanac HQ. Our mascot and best friend, Dogmanac, has gone to that squirrel-filled meadow in the sky. We are heartbroken, but must continue with him only in spirit as our guardian angel dog. I raise my 40 to you, Dogmanac: One for me, one for my doggie. He always sat on my feet to keep them warm as I wrote to you from my mailbag.
*Tear*
Okay! Our first letter comes from an alert reader, who is obviously a heavy girl with heavy problems.
Dear Girlmanac, Every girl has a hidden VAGenda. What's yours?
Vaginal in Vadnais Heights
Dear Vadge, It's almost as if you're a sista from another mista! OF COURSE Girlmanac has a hidden vagenda; it's what I LIVE for. Since we seem to be such kindred spirits, let reveal a few of my secret thoughts.
1. Find Sarah Palin and MAKE HER BE MY MOM. Then get pregnant, then get something that rhymes with "schmaschmortion,' and then go on the View, mainly so I will have an opportunity to throat-punch Elisabeth Hasselbeck. 2. Stage a musical version of The Vagina Monologues starring Noah Warren and his alter egos Sir Elton John, Macy Gray, Tina Turner, and Anneka Anderson. Sell tickets and write a check from the proceeds to the St.Olaf Alumni Fund, but while presenting it yell, "I KNOW YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM I?" and run with it to the nearest bank that conains a checking account belonging to me. 3. Tell Brian Kennedy that I'm going on the Master Cleanse, create a fake blog about it and how easy it is and how wonderful I feel, and post fake pictures of things that come out of me while on the cleanse, like paper clips, a crack pipe, and a Kerry/Edwards '04 bumper sticker.
Those are just a FEW of my thoughts, darling. Ah, someday I will dictate a memoir to someone to write for me, and there all will be revealed. For now, I predict a Girlmanac/Warren presidential ticket in 2012.
Praise Christ,
Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac,
Do you believe in the Hotness Monster? Some people say it is fake, but I don't believe that.
Sincerely, Bewildered in Bryn Mawr
Dear Bewildered, I've gone back and forth on this one. Normally, I don't believe in monsters. However, when I first saw your question, I read "HotMESS Monster," instead of "HotNESS Monster," and let me tell you, I really DO believe that our society is currently plagued by a "Hot Mess Monster," whether literally or figuratively speaking. Not only that, Girlmanac feels sincerely that she herself has lived with the Hot Mess Monster for most of her 29 er 25 years. You see, Bewildered, whenever there is alcohol, hormones, men, hormones, and sleep deprivation, there is the Hot Mess Monster. Add in there psychotropic medication, and let steep for a few hours, and you have a HOT TRANNY MESS UP IN HERE. A few famous folks who have been visited by the Hot Mess Monster include:
Good day to you, Knights and Ladies of Rodanthe! Haha, just a little film humor there, because I have just returned from watching "Nights in Rodanthe," starring the dreeeeeaaaamy Richard Gere and the even dreeeeeeeeeaaaaaaamier Diane Lane! What a film!
Just kidding. Girlmanac would never see that movie.
ANY-poo, my long absence can be attributed to many factors, brothers and sisters. First, it was Girlmanac's birthday, and she likes to get CRUNK. Second, it was a very good week on The View. That Elisabeth Hasselbeck! What a scamp! Cute as a button, to boot! Am I right? Third, Girlmanac's Pseudo-inlaws and parents were here this weekend, so Girlmanac was busy entertaining, gossiping with her mother, Womanac. Fourthly, Girlmanac had too much red wine last evening and embarrassed herself over said wine and possibly committed several or more social gaffes. Whew! I'm exhausted! So we have several letters from the mailbag to get to today; let's dive in, cause my vodka straight isn't getting less watered down!
Dear Girlmanac, Is it possible to spin an Oriental person around so much that they become dis-oriented? AND WHAT GIVES when it comes to the price of pickled pepper packs? I mean sheesh!
PO'd in Prior Lake
Dear PO'd, First of all, we don't call them "Orientals," anymore. That's racist. We call them "Mulattos from the Island of Mulatto." Perhaps you know someone like this. Second of all, they do not get disoriented because they have built-in compasses which update every half-second to tell them where they are, and get the latest scores of the baseball match. These chips also give them the ability to read minds and do lighting-fast linear equations. And we wonder why America is having a "brain drain"!
As for the Pickled Peppers, I asked my dear friend, and the father of Babymanac, who also happens to manage a high-end grocery store, why these little delicacies are in such high demand right now. He said the only explanation he could see was they were constantly being snapped up by a "Mulatto fellow" as soon as the shipment could get stocked.
Methinks you already know the answer, PO'd. Mayhaps a bit of soul-searching or food journalling could clarify things for you.
Best, Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac, I am the founder of MAABA, Mothers Against the Advancement of Bear Astronauts. Would you care to donate some of your time to our organization? We are highjacking a Planned Parenthood and using it as our base of operations to perform mass bear abortions. We wantAHHHHH! My toaster is bi-racial!
Stymied in St. Paul
Dear Stymied, Dearheart, your battle cry has been heard, and while Girlmanac loves nothing more than to donate her time to worthy causes, and she has visited Planned Parenthood five or six times, I simply can't squeeze one more volunteer hour into my schedule. And as for your toaster, let me just say this: THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DON'T TEACH ABSTINENCE-ONLY EDUCATION TO OUR KITCHEN APPLIANCES!!! Whew. My apologies. Girlmanac doesn't like to get overtly political, but sometimes enough is enough!
Oh, so many inquiring minds today, Readers and Readerettes! Let me crack open my Diet Coke...and grab a cupcake...and let's get started!!!
Dear Girlmanac, Can one ever truly cancel their appointment with heartbreak? Why must we always rendezvous with reality??? Please eat me.
Yours, Broken in Bass Lake
Dear Bass Lake, Love, the fact of the matter is, you can only cancel your appointment with heartbreak if you give 24-hour notice, or they charge the full amount!!! I agree, it's the sad state of healthcare in this country that's to blame. I guess the real question, Bass, is "Why do you want to cancel?" I say, send out your RSVP and get the ball rolling! A college professor of mine once said, "Perhaps you should be in The Boys Next Door...the character is kind of a big guy, and likes donuts." And I think in this situation, Bass Lake, you need to go "next door" and get a big ol' heaping plate of Heartbreak Holes. Start eating!
Hungrily yours, Girlmanac
Dear Girlmanac, A good friend of mine sure knows how to "KEEP THE LADIES." However, whenever I attempt this endeavor, they always manage to escape my meat locker freezer. HELP!!!
Yours, Longing in Lakeville
Dear Longing,
I hear you loud and clear, sister friend! Here is what I have found to be helpful in trapping my victims I mean dates:
1. Make sure they are incapacitated BEFORE you get them in the freezer. That way, it's really just a matter of moving them to their proper stall. 2. DO NOT stab them with a pen; I've found this to be much too messy, and at the end of the evening when you're ready for bed, who wants to bother with all the cleanup? Simply use roofies; lots of them. Put them in BOTH of your drinks, that way when the police show up, you have an air-tight alibi. You were drugged! How could you know what you were doing? 3. Let them leave only if A.) They like the "A Team," and B) if they ask specifically for a "Jameson" when ordering whiskey.
Happy Hunting!
Dear Girlmanac, Gun To Your Head: Will You Practice Mormonism or Scientology? Pop quiz, hotshot. What's it gonna be?
BTW: www.mormonsexposed.com BBTW: John Travolta? More like John TraVOLTING!!
Yours, Wondering in Wausau
Dear Wondering, What an excellent and interesting question! After much thought, I'm going to have to go with Mormonism. Bill Paxton is SOOO dreamy on that polygamy show, and as I would MOS DEF be the First Wife, I'd get to boss around Nikki and Margie all the time! And there would be all kinds of intrigue with the nearby rogue sect! And my parents-in-law would be the mom from Twin Peaks and Bruce Dern! However, let me say that Scientology is a highly-respected and strong religion, giving comfort to thousands of rich people, sociopaths, and rich sociopaths all over the globe! You can't argue with success, people.
