Saturday, May 31, 2008

Pffft!! That's Nothin'

Back story: Boy-Child#1 is graduating from sixth grade in two weeks. Aaand now you're pretty much caught up.

Boy-Child#1: Hey, Mom wanna hear the song we're singing for graduation?

Me: Of course!

Boy-Child#1: Go to YouTube and enter R. Kelly the world's greatest.

Me: Alright.
.
.
.
.
.
Boy-Child#1: Mom? Hey, Mom are you crying?

Me: I can't help it. I also can't talk

Boy-Child#1: Why are you crying?

Me: Oh, please this is nothing. Wait until your graduation. This would probably be a good time to start thinking about asking me to stay home.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Tootsie Talks ~ Some People Listen

Tootsie's weekly advice column. She's no expert, although she's not really sure what constitutes "expert". If it involves school, she attended the school of Very Strong Opinions. Questions are welcomed. Answers may borderline ridiculous.


Since I had nary a submitted question to answer, I revert to everyone's favorite brand of advice: Unsolicited. The following pictures are from the first 30 or so pages of my recent issue of Allure Magazine. It would appear as though the marketing directors got together and had a little meeting about what is so hot right now. And the memo said: Green.

Totally want this shirt from H&M even if just to wear around the house.


I prefer the Matrix Sleek Look line but then it doesn't come in green.

I totally thought that Zeno wanted to be an iPod when it grew up but upon closer inspection it would appear that I was completely off with regards to its purpose; unless iPods are used for pimple treatments (note to self: consult teenager and conduct study. Seek grant). The photo opposite the zit zapper thingy is an ad for O.P.I. nail polish. Which every time I see makes me want to hang out in Mayberry with little Ronnie Howard, eating Aunt Bea's pies, and congregating with town drunks in a cozy jail cell I mean who doesn't.



Be delicious? Who is this supposed to appeal to? People who want to be consumed? By what? Circus bears? The SNL land shark? Oh wait, other humans. I think I'll pass on being delicious and just demand that DKNY promise that their perfume will make me be that model.


(Not really in the magazine):


My eyes!! OHMYEFFINGGOD My bleeding eyes! Make this stop! The color! The length! The fabric! What are they supposed to be? Shorts? Pants? Knickers? Completely and utterly hideously unattractive? Because they totally nailed that last option. JC Penny? Your white sales will not make up for this. Please knock it off.

Green...blah...blah... St. Ives...green... nature.

Pure & Natural...blah...blahh...green...pure....green....natural.

Burts Bees...blahh...blahhhh....take a bath in a creek...blahh...green.

Biore...blahhhh....blahhhhh...triple action...with a green bow....

What is happening here is a subtle case of desensitization of the masses. Overuse of the message to "go green" in scenarios that it doesn't apply distracts from those whose message serves a real purpose. Conserve energy. Be water wise. Recycle. Don't be a litter bug. Clean air. Elevated methane levels brought on by the need to fuel our mass burger consumption. ETCETERA.

Subliminal "go green" messages in ads for nail polish, acne cream, and perfume? You are guilty of coat tail riding and are doing a disservice to the cause. So please stop it.

************************

Speaking of green sort of: Last night my neighbor arrived home to find me beating his tree with an extremely long paint roller handle extender pole [there's got to be a shorter name for that we'll call it a stick], like it was 11:59pm on Cinco de Mayo and it was the last piƱata in a 50 mile radius.

Me: (sheepish) uhhh...hi.
Him: ....... (slow smile)
Me: I've got a rocket** stuck in your tree. that's what she said
Him: Need some help? smooth
Me: How you doin' Sure! sultry approach
Him: It's really stuck in there.
Me: ....
Him: Let me hit it from another angle
Me: Say my name! I did manage to get the shoe down.
Him: I think I got it!
Me: a little to the left One more should do it!
Him: I got it!

Then he ducked when my rocket fell towards his face. I will leave you with that image.

**Boy-Child#2 has one of those Air Hog rockets which got stuck in the highest branches of the tree. Along with his shoe that he threw at it. All very innocent yet awkward.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

They Done Gone Tampered With the Snacks

I was watching some grocery shopping guru on some morning show not too long ago (could I be more vague?) and she was instructing us that we should be stocking up on the so-called (to paraphrase) "items that the store needs to get off the shelf", if it is something that your family will use; and to use our club cards. She also mentioned something about buying store brands as opposed to name brands but only if the quantity is the same or more. Or something like that. Honestly? I wasn't really paying all that much attention. But I did hear her say "instead of buying individual apples, buy the already bagged ones". And to make a list. I always make a list, and I looked for the pre-bagged apples which apparently my store doesn't carry. I also didn't wander the aisles aimlessly, nor was I hungry, and I had the list. I was rocking that advice that I was only sort of listening to. Milk in my store? $4.59 for a gallon of 2 percent. Outrageous, no? But with the club card it is 2 for $5.39. Better. And because during these warm longer days, our refrigerator in the garage has a revolving door and we're personally hydrating all of the children on the cul-de-sac with Gatorade and Capri Sun and beer, which was 2 for $6 for the former and $2.79 a box for the latter.

I only strayed twice from my meticulous list. Once for the -excuse me while I see your impulse item and raise you 2 hula hoops because that was an impulse item that I was all, "Hellz ya!", and once for the ice cream. Now, I know the economy is not performing at its level best right now and the government is having to bail out people whose homes are being foreclosed on because that same government made those same people unable to file for bankruptcy, but what the hell were these people thinking buying homes outside of their means and then treating the equity in their property like an ATM, making that hole they're digging go all the way to China. And I mean that literally. It was a recipe for disaster. And it now costs $80 to fill up a 20 gallon tank with gas and people can't afford to commute to their jobs but ohmygod what have they done with the ice cream! When I approached the freezer case I noticed that Dreyers had changed the packaging on their regular brand of ice cream. I had to scrutinize it to make sure it wasn't some fat-free crap that I was getting suckered into. I hate when that happens! Mr. Farklepants is very particular about his Mint Chip ice cream even though he doesn't eat it anymore but the kids do and I like to be prepared in case he changes his mind. So while I'm suspiciously eying this new packaging, I note that it seems as if the container is smaller. As if they'd shaved an inch off the bottom.



Goddammit I was right. However, they did not shave an inch off the price! It is still $6.49 and on sale for $4.99 with the club card just like the last time I purchased the larger pre-screw-the-consumer container. Those shifty ice cream stealing BASTARDS!! It's like they were all, "just make it fancy and those idiots won't even notice because they'll be too busy keeping their toddler from knocking over the display of canned creamed corn". What's next? One scoop of raisins in my Raisin Bran?

Also? In a "go Me!" moment, I saved $75.71 resulting in a $202 grocery bill, using my club card. SEVENTY-FIVE!! My personal best. Excuse me while I get to 2nd base with myself.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Someone Needs to Sit Down and Have a Talk With Her About Boundaries

I've already mentioned how much Girl-Child enjoys our trips to the bank. It does not rival her SKQUEEEEEE!! of the grocery store. Free cookie from the bakery aside, at the grocery store there are two cashiers; one called "Friend" and the other is "Tong". These are not their real names, however, it is how Girl-Child addresses them. Friend will spend our whole transaction conversing with Girl-Child; asking her if she'd gone to school that morning, how it was, what did they do, what did they have for snack, and ask the names of whichever doll or stuffed toy has joined us. Sometimes, if she has them, Friend will give Girl-Child a sticker. The two just click. She is not the only checker to ever speak with Girl-Child but she is the one whose line we will wait in at Girl-Child's request, no matter how long, so that she can see her Friend. That is... (dramatic pause indicated by ellipses)...

....Unless Tong is there. Tong is the love of her life. She doesn't care that he's in his twenties and that her love is forbidden. Because her kind of love is wrapped up in the funny voices he uses to speak to her, how he chases her, steals her toys and gives them voices, plays hide and seek, tickles her, and generally acts a damn fool. When she squeals from behind her hands, "Tong is SO silly!" she's basically telling him, "Look dude, you're awesome, okay? Please come over and play My Little Ponies with me. BFFs?". She recognizes his car in the parking lot and is ready for the check out lane before our shopping has even begun. "Can we go see Tong now?" "Not yet." "Done Mommy?". "Nope". And God help us if he's running the 15 items or less lane and we're there on BIG shopping day. Holy hell.

She is not the only child who feels this way about Tong. His line is full of mothers with small children. When another check stand opens to relieve the congestion, we mothers are falling all over our manners and turn into a bunch of Emily Posts with our "Oh no, after you". "No. Please, go right ahead". "You were here first, I wouldn't dream of it". Because none of us are leaving that line. And we all know it. And the person who does eventually move to the next available checker is one that is sans child. If he's relieved for his break before we've all been through the line, he will make sure to greet each child individually and knows each one by name. I'm not even kidding when I say that every day is like Christmas and he's Santa Claus. Only younger. And shorter. And looks more like Flea from Red Hot Chilli Peppers with less surf punk and more Howdy Doody. I wonder if Tong babysits?

******************************

Scenes From the Mall:

(1) Woman in spandex bottoms and too small top with spillage in the middle. Resembles broken can of biscuits.
(4) Individual toddler meltdowns.
(1) Sale on bathing suits at Macys. And a line full of very brave women.
(3) Random acts of chivalry. Men still occasionally hold doors open for women and let them go first in line. Thanks, Gents. Your Mamma done brought you up right.
(2) Bonafide mowhawks. Not faux-hawks. I repeat: not faux-hawks.
(1) Mowhawk riding the carousel. Well done, sir.
(8) Separate sightings of small children riding on fathers' shoulders. EIGHT. Walking is for chumps.
(Infinity) Teenagers. That used to be me only with bigger hair and more eyeliner.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Dinner Consumed With 99% Less Bone


Last night was the first time since Tuesday, April 24th 2007 that I prepared pork chops for dinner. I know you're all, "umm...okay. Whatever. Congratulations?" but oh, the drama that unfolded with Boy-Child#2 on that fateful other white meat day. Wanna hear it? Here it go:

That evening I prepared pork chops for my family and 20 minutes after dinner, my youngest son began gagging and heaving as if he were sick to his stomach. This went on periodically throughout the night and into the morning. We assumed he had some kind of stomach virus since the rest of us were fine. It wasn't until morning that he informed us that it felt like something was stuck in his throat. Immediately alarmed and considering that perhaps he had a fragment of a pork chop bone lodged in his throat, but knowing it wasn't an "emergency" situation since he could breath and swallow, I took him to the walk in doctor's office to investigate. They were wonderful and patient and did what they could... two hours later xrays didn't reveal any bone fragments, it could just be a scratch, however, it could be such a small bone fragment that it wouldn't show up in xrays and they suggested that I take him to the emergency room where they had a greater variety of instruments to use to detect the problem.

I brought him home and waited until dinner time, figuring it would be a less hectic hour for the emergency room. The waiting room wasn't terribly crowded and they brought us in to a curtained bed area within 45 minutes. After a brief consultation with the doctor, he ordered a barium xray. While we waited in the large, open "fast track" area, consisting of several occupied beds separated by curtains, I couldn't help but hear the conversations amongst the staff. One nurse had a burrito she was willing to share with her co-worker. How sweet. One nurse had consistent complaints ranging from something (didn't hear what) that she agreed "just ain't right" with another co-worker, to some closet being improperly stocked...apparently "it didn't have shit". This same nurse was the go-to gal for the xray technician who came to collect my son. I can tell by the bemused expressions on their faces (how does one "hear" a bemused expression you ask? By the tone of their voice silly!) that because my son can breath and swallow, I'm just a overreactive mother wasting their precious time. The sound of their eyes rolling and their smirking mouths was deafening. Nevermind that I was at the emergency room on a doctor's suggestion; let's not let facts get in the way.

The tech was lacking in any smiles, impatient, and I think he figured it might have killed him to try even just a little bit to put my scared son's fears at ease. He was short and quick to threaten my son that if he didn't drink the barium properly that he was just going to have to do it all over again. Finally satisfied that he had the films he needed we were sent back to our curtained bed. An hour or so later, my son in a deep sleep, it was time to clear out the "fast track" area because at a certain time in the evening the staff is reduced and they put all of the patients in one area. I listened from our little corner of the room, patients being informed of their move and beds being wheeled off to somewhere unknown by me. I waited. And waited. Waited some more. I waited nearly 30 minutes. Long gone were voices, rustlings, or the sound of soft soled shoes on the floor. No beeping machines...not even a cough to clear one's throat. Zip. Dead silence. Fearing we'd somehow been forgotten (I mean, that couldn't be!), but hesitant to leave my sleeping son, worried that he might wake up alone in one wing of the hospital, I finally took a few steps out to investigate. We were, in fact, alone. I took one more look at my son and decided to try to find someone as quickly as possible. This forced me to leave the room entirely, through another room, and finally into an area that had some staff.

I asked the nurse sitting at the desk if we were also being moved. Luckily, I didn't blink when I asked her this question because I would have surely missed the extremely brief look of shock that flashed across her face when I told her where my son was. She resorted to her pat answer and informed me that they were getting a bed ready for him and someone would be there shortly.

We never did move. The doctor finally came in to discuss the results of the barium xray with me. The diagnosis? No obstruction shows up in the xray and my son can swallow. Gee...thanks. I already knew he could swallow which is probably why I said as much during my initial consultation with the doctor. What I want to know is, what is causing my son to gag and heave when he DOES swallow? "It could be a scratch on his cartledge or it could be a bone fragment so small that it doesn't show up in the xray"... well, here we are back to square one. This I already know, I tell him. He recommends an ear, nose, and throat specialist and gives me the number of a doctor to call because they have a fiber optic camera they can snake down his throat. Henry Mayo doesn't have one of those in the entire facility? Couldn't they have done that while we were there? Well, I guess they've done all they're gonna do.

After a combined total of 7 hours in medical facilities, I still don't know what is going on in my son's throat and it doesn't seem to concern any of the medical professionals, so why should I be worried? Because I'm a mother and I can tell you right now that there is something wrong with my son. I'm not a nervous overreative mother. Aside from being born this was the first time my 7 year old son had ever even seen the inside of a hospital, let alone an emergency room. And they should take a lesson in bedside manner. It would serve them well not to treat scared worried parents and patients with belittling condescension. Give us the benefit of the doubt that we aren't there to waste your time...we're there because something just ain't right.


Last night's dinner consisted of BONELESS pork chops and was met with fear from Boy-Child#2. I considered telling him it was chicken but he's on to my lies. To this day he will not eat quickly. He will chew whatever it is he's eating until it becomes a fine, pasty liquid. And it is all kinds of nasty.

*The above story is a repeat from one of my old blogs*

Monday, May 26, 2008

It's Official: She's a Chick


On Friday evening Mr. Farklepants and the boys headed out to his brother's house for a weekend of blow your mind guitar jamming [insert devils horn hand gesture here and bang your head]. He lives in a more rural area that allows for atom splitting decibels. They're going to Christen the new amp [and probably utilize some wah-wah pedals]. Far away from my ears. And our neighbors ears. And the ears trapped in the folds of 17,000 pages of our homeowners association manual [Stepford isn't even kidding about RULES]. At some point in our harried good-byes, Girl-Child realizes that their trip requires a suitcase. And that she isn't going. While she hugged her oldest brother good bye, somewhere deep in her posterior lobe of the pituitary, a surge of oxytocin - the bonding hormone - was released. And with it? An ass-load of tears. As she held him in a kung-fu death grip, she managed to sob "I'm going toooo miiiiiiiiisssss yooooouuuu". See, it wasn't so much that she wasn't going with them that had her all acting like a girl; it was that they weren't going to be with HER. This reaction was so unlike her. Sure she's a little more sensitive than our boys and easier to upset, especially if she's in trouble, but she's just not terribly emotional. Because I have witnessed other little girls her age and I'm like, "Are you serious with this? Oh my stinkin' heck, get over yourselves already. DRAMATIC much?" -see how empathetic I am? Who's looking for a nanny? So it was completely uncharacteristic and bizarre that she just didn't know what she was gonna dooooo without "her guys". And all of my suggestions about what we can do over the weekend as just us girls was not filling the void. It took a solid 30 minutes to talk her down and by that time I'd convinced myself that she was PMSing and going to start her period in three days. Right around the time I was wondering if they made Midol for children under the age of five and thinking that they should -and if not, then what was the proper dosage of the adult version to administer which was forcing me to do math- Dora the Explorer came on and Boots started singing about how he "speaks Spanish and English too, I like them both; how about yoooouuu?" - There may be times where I want to tell Dora: Put that in your star pocket, sister! But this time she made things all better. And then when I told Girl-Child that her auntie was going to spend the afternoon with her while Mommy spent that time with friends, she spent the remaining hours asking me when I was going to just leave, already. Whatevs. Mood swings.

p.s. My past and present tense is all over the place in here. Thank goodness I'm not turning it in for a grade.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

This Place Needed Some Classing Up

The popular "She Who Does Everything In Stilettos" OHmommy over at Classy Chaos awarded my blog as the May recipient in her Classy Awards with this:



Thank you OHmommy!! And in your honor this post will be profanity and snark free. So basically, it will be short and to the point because I don't know how much longer I can restrain myself. Thanks for classing up my joint! **Air kisses**

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Then I Heard Her Say: "I Like This Picture of Me. It Hides My Muffin Top"


This picture tells a tale. You're probably thinking that I'm pointing out that she wears a little too much eyeliner for her age, but ya know, she's all "I really like a smokey eye". What she won't admit is how well it compliments the dirt encrusted on her snout from burying her crack toilet paper cardboard centers in various locations around our backyard. And on special occasions (like, because it rained) she will dig them up and present them to you. You just aren't allowed to touch them.

Let's not get started on her pedicure.

Friday, May 23, 2008

We Interrupt Friday's Regularly Scheduled Advice Column to Bring You This Important Bulletin!

It's official. You all are not even kidding about chocolate and/or free stuff. Over one hundred of you submitted your names for the chance to receive a gift certificate for one pound of See's Candy. Before we get started I would like to answer Anglophilefootballfanatic's burning question: "You're that close to Ghirardelli people and you like See's? Hmm." The answer to that is: When Ghirardelli grows up it wants to be See's Candy. - and WHO is still following along?



In an effort to stave off a crippling case of writer's cramp, I chose to type each name in Word in traditional Times New Roman font, size 22 so that all things were even Steven. All of the names submitted were included except for those who specifically asked to be removed. Madame Queen and Shania, I took you at your word. Even though he left a comment, Mr. Farklepants' name was also not included in the drawing for 2 reasons: A) I'm only giving away one of the two gift certificates that I have, which means we already have one, and B) He doesn't care for See's Candy. He says it's too sweet but I say that there is something fundamentally wrong with him. - and WHO is skimming ahead to see who won? Take one giant step forward.

With all of these names I thought, "I'm gonna need a bigger bowl".


And then I overcompensated.


And then I asked Mr. Farklepants to hold the bowl thusly so that I could take a picture. To which he sighed and rolled his eyes obliged. Then I assured him I would only capture his manhood midsection [making bobbing for names out of the question]. And then with a tremendous amount of mocking enthusiasm he inquired, "shall we do this"?


And also, "Are we done yet"?


And then, "Do you know this person"? Yes! Yes, I do. Congratulations Melissa of Green Girl in Wisconsin! Please email your address to me at tootsiefarklepants(at)yahoo(dot)com and in a few short days you will be the proud owner of a gift certificate that you can use to order your orgasm on the See's Candies website. -Who says you can't get everything on the Internet?

Thanks for playing, Readers! We'll have to do this again sometime!

Thursday, May 22, 2008

The Post That Serves as a Warning to Those Who Live in Her House

Here's the thing. Tootsie has family coming in from out of town next Saturday. And Tootsie is beside herself excited that her brother, her sister in law [who's also one of Tootsie's bestest friends], and her nephew will be spending the week with her and her family! And when she says beside herself she means there is one of her right here and then another one immediately to the left of her. She also wishes that one to the left of her would get off her lazy posterior and help knock some things off of that to-do list that Tootsie keeps mentioning ohmygod she's a nag! I mean, c'mon! Look at this thing:

  1. Organize office so that company can use it to store their emotional baggage.
  2. Also clean the office and don't forget to dust because someone is drawing pictures in the layer that occupies the desk.
  3. Find out who is doing the drawing and ask them to cut it out.
  4. Buy borrow a portable crib from a friend who is still in possession of an infant so that family doesn't have to lug their's cross country.
  5. Re-baby proof the electrical outlets.
  6. Wrap new couch and coffee table in several layers of Saran Wrap
  7. Replace patio furniture cushions that birds destroyed
  8. Replace patio umbrella that wind destroyed.
  9. Replace shower curtain liner that is learning a thing or two about mildew
  10. Invest in new mattress pad for pull out couch and throw some new pillows in there while you're at it
  11. Plan more elaborate meals that don't include hot dogs or mac & cheese
  12. Wash guest towels & sheets
  13. Clean, vacuum, dust, and pay extra attention to detail in the bathrooms like you usually do only mo' betta.
  14. Clean out and restock refrigerator & pantry with delicious snacks
  15. See doctor for Prozac
  16. Get windows cleaned nevermind they can't come until after the family leaves and kind of defeats the purpose
  17. Find out which one of the boys is peeing with the toilet seat down and demand that it be stopped effective immediately
  18. Build a dungeon
  19. Throw out clean the oven
  20. Relocate husband and children to a safe house to shield them from the level five hurricane bitch Tootsie will become while trying to accomplish all of the above and also how she prohibits anyone from walking on the freshly vacuumed carpet - which is so much fun.
Who wants to volunteer to remind Tootsie that it is her brother that is visiting and not her inlaws and her brother doesn't give a rat's fig about the state of anything in her house except maybe a dungeon? I feel it only fair to warn you that she bites when she's under a tremendous amount of self inflicted pressure, and also that she goes for the jugular when told she's being unreasonable, so please keep this in mind when raising your hand. It's much the same way she behaves when PMSing only with less feminine hygiene products and cramps.

She would also like to remind you that today is the last day to get in on the giveaway of super delicious candy! So go there and leave your comment to throw your name in the hat! The winner will be announced tomorrow! And that's a lot of exclamation marks!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Her Sense of Style Borders Extreme

The Girl-Child and I took a trip to Tilly's because I wanted a pair of calf length leggings. What? Yeah, I know. See, I bought some full length leggings like almost a year ago and I just wore them for the first time a week or so ago. I had to first come to terms with the fact that I would be wearing leggings for the first time since 1992 and in order to prepare, I had to visit my tremendous place of courage. I believe that may be located somewhere just north of my spleen; which would explain why it took so long to find it. When I finally slipped them on, I was shocked at the hugeness of them because how can something look so small on a hanger and not be? I know it's been a while, but I don't think leggings are supposed to have that much slack in them; and if I pulled them all the way up then the waist nestled comfortably against my nipples. It just seemed wrong, ya know? But I'm really liking the look with sundresses. I also like sundresses with jeans, but those I have plenty of. So, anyway...Tilly's. It's the place to shop if "Skater At Any Age" is the look you seek. They meet all of your skater needs. They also have really cute clothes for kids, although a smidge pricier than Target and Old Navy. Girl-Child spies a shirt that she HAS TO HAVE RIGHT NOW MOMMY PLEASE IT'S PINK!!! and she makes a bee-line for it. [Quick aside: Do your kids ever run kind of hunkered over like say, oh, an Olympic speed skater? Just asking because that's what she did] I can see it and it's not what I would choose for my My Little Pony loving girl. So I'm picking up others along the way trying to dazzle her with my own taste and even resorting to jazz hands, "hey, look! This one has a unicorn on it" and then "nevermind" when I realize it's dusted with a fine layer of GLITTER. I avoid bringing glitter into my home at all costs (i.e. Nice school project, Sweetie! Let's keep this in the garage!). So then I was like, how about this? This is pink!




Or this? It's Paul Frank! Look! MONKEY!



And she was all, "No. I want this one Mommy".



Sigh. Hopefully someday we won't be at the tattoo parlor where I'm trying to distract her with a more discreet tramp-stamp.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Nobody Puts Baby in the Day Camp

~Reminder to get in on the giveaway of super delicious candy! Thursday is the deadline.~

With that official business out of the way...

There seems to be a popular theory that is subscribed too in my little corner of the world. And that is What Are Your Children's Scheduled Activities For The Summer? Every time I'm approached with this question my answer is "nothing". Which is met with genuine shock, like "Shooooo...lady you crazy"! But what actually comes out of their mouths is, "But won't they get bored? Won't they drive you nuts?", and this saddens me. This "What are you going to DO with them for ALL that TIIIME?". Those comments seem to indicate that their children aren't seeking activities that they're interested in; they're being put somewhere so that their parents don't have to deal. Yes, there will be more than a few occasions where my children will be testing the absolute limits of my patience this summer or I'll want to set myself on fire if I hear just one more "But he's looooookiiiiinnng at meeeeeee!", and I'll probably compose a blog post or two about how you need to talk me down and that I should perhaps jump into the bottom of a Xanax bottle for some comfort and relief.

I had one woman who would not take "nothing" as an answer and seemed to be making it her personal mission to see that I had some child-free time to myself during the upcoming summer break. Her suggestion went exactly this way (and read it really fast without taking a breath as if all the words ran together): "Because my church has this camp but it has a waiting list but if I tell them you're a friend of mine I'm sure that they would sign you up but you have to let me know right now because the cutoff is next week so if you want your kids to go to my church camp did I mention one of the things they do is kind of a movie making camp sounds fun right so do you wanna, huh, because I need to know right now why aren't you saying yes it's not a hard decision plans? what plans? how do you know if you'll have plans this will be your plan I just need to know right now and then our kids could be there together and maybe you and I could go get a cup of coffee or something you like coffee right so what do you say?...." ETCETERA because there was more. Then I got up off the floor because the shock waves from all that threw me back and to the ground like a rag doll and at the same time the whole world pulled away while the camera zoomed in on me. I'd be remiss not to mention that this woman is just barely an acquaintance.

Aside from the fact my husband would make sure my body was never found (think: wood chipper) if I sent our children to church camp, the truth of the matter is that I like spending time with my kids. I like waking up one vacation morning and saying, "hey, I know what lets do! Beach!! or Disneyland, Magic Mountain, Catalina, Santa Barbara, zoo, water park, we live in California for godsake so let's take advantage of that". Not only that, but one day, and sooner than I'd like my kids will be making their own summer plans that don't include me. And one day they'll be gone for good as adults with their own lives and families. Why would I be eager to get them out of my hair now?

Monday, May 19, 2008

A Giveaway! C'mon, it's Chocolate. You Know You Want it

We get gift cards, as gifts from others, a lot. So much so, that we have an entire drawer dedicated to gift cards for restaurants, theaters, retail stores, and more. Giving a gift card is about the laziest gesture a person can make. I understand that everyone has got those one or two people in their life Mr. Farklepants that are impossible to buy for my dad, but overwhelmingly, and let's be honest, the reason for giving a gift card is because either a) you waited until the last minute, b) it's easier to ship, or c) you procrastinated about trying to figure out a gift. I include myself in this group because I have done it countless times. But you have got to be some kind of lazy to give a gift card to a child under seven years old. You couldn't find an easier demographic to shop for. This age group is the easiest to please. You screw up when you try to go big with the gift; to give THE gift. This is not the group to do that with. They don't care about grand sweeping gestures. The younger kids are happy with a package of Hot Wheels cars or Pokemon cards. And give a five year old or younger some sidewalk chalk or even better, BUBBLES! Ohmyeffinggod! BUBBLES! You know it's true too! Bubbles will make a child lose their mind! To a child it's like their reason to live found its way through that wand. A child that young does not need a $50 gift card from Toy's R Us.

So, while we're on the subject of gift cards: a few months ago my niece was participating in a fundraiser for her college cross country team and I bought two gift certificates each for a one pound box of See's Candy.


(see how easily it turns a cheesy brass platter into supreme fanciness?)

I don't know if you've ever had See's Candy because it is primarily a West Coast thing and I think their stores go only as far east as Colorado but believe me when I tell you it's the best candy ever to be made in the history of forever. It is fucking delicious. And I'm giving one of these gift certificates for a one pound box of See's Candy away to one of you! It can also be used on their website for those of you who live in an inferior city** and aren't near a store.

The rules:

  1. Leave a comment on this post by Thursday, May 22nd at 11:59pm (pst)
  2. You can leave as many comments as you want but your name will only count once
  3. I will write each name on a slip of paper
  4. I will put those names into a bowl or hat or some kind of holding device
  5. Mr. Farklepants will draw the name and that person will win
  6. I will announce the winner on Friday, May 23rd and that person will email their address to me and prepare to have their mind blown.
  7. I will send them the gift card for the super delicious candy.
  8. And that person will have an orgasm (this could be you!!)
  9. Best contest ever
GOOD LUCK!!!

**I'm totally joking about the "inferior city". Please consider this when composing your comment and/or your hate mail

Sunday, May 18, 2008

This Week in Comments...

...Are a battle of the sexes! Considering I have relatively few male readers, they are holding their own in the comments and bringing the funny. But, in some ways I'm an old fashioned gal, so ladies first:


Super b's mom: "Last week, a mother WALKED ON THE FIELD to her son, who was having one mutha of a tantrum and held his hand to walk him from first to second base. We were like WTH?!?!"

WTH? indeed. This will be the mother who fills out her adult child's employment application and accompany him to the interview. Then call in sick for him when he's feeling lousy.

Just My Type: "*Little disclaimer here please... We actually live in Wan Biego and this team wasn't actually from Wan Biego...right?! They were "just pretending"? We have our own fair share of parents like this and don't need any extra! My husband (Mr. Crankypants) will enjoy this post."

Yes, they're pretending. No traveling teams for the parks and recs. I mean, we can barely make it to the other side of town in time for the game.

Shania: "Piglet plays tball. Have I mentioned that they're FOUR? I had a grandparent sitting behind me at the last game ask her daughter "so it's ok to clap for all the kids right?" Daughter actually replied "NO! We only clap for our team." Gram told her to quit being an ass and she'd clap for all those little cuties. GO GRAM!"

Seriously? We could have used Gram at today's game. Some supporters of our own team were a little to serious today. And a little too loud.

Bunny Bunster: "Yipes! That dildo has teeth!! (Plus, Stu's comments totally cracked me up!)"

Yeah. Toothless dildos are preferred. Stu cracks me up too (see below).

jennifer (jen on the edge): "I hate Rush. HATE them. The way you describe your loathing is identical to the way I describe mine (intensity of a 1,000 white hot suns). It's the singer's voice. Something about it makes me want to commit murder."

I concur. And felt that your sentiments were worth repeating.

Now for the men:

Stu: "A sharing dildo would be a whole other post, maybe even a different blog. If would be a sad life for a dildo that is afraid of the dark. happy, sad, happy, sad, happy..."

You earn ten points for humanizing a marital aide! Well done, sir!

Mr. Farklepants: "9 out of 10 husbands agree. The part of the budget dedicated to vagina maintenance is money well spent. The tenth will be donating that money to the California Supreme Court."

Swoon. And twenty points to my husband for Rick Rolling my blog, you sly devil.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

The Post That May Cure Your Insomnia


I was tagged with a meme by Allison from The Rabbit Hole for thirteen uninteresting things about me. Let me wow you with some humdrum.

  1. My favorite burger joint is Jimmy Deans. Not really for their burgers, although good, but for their fountain soda because it's served over CRUSHED ICE.
  2. I never learned how to whistle.
  3. I was on the drill team in junior high school. Nowadays known as "dance team".
  4. I designed my own prom dress and my grandmother made it. It was the 80's and everything was very "big hoop" and I was very not. It was very similar to the style of the dress Marilyn Monroe wore in The Seven Year Itch subway skirt scene (see above). Only black with less wind. And less implied sex. My sex is always direct.
  5. I almost drowned in a public pool when I was about 10. My mother had to jump in and rescue me.
  6. I gave my brother a black eye when I threw a backpack containing a Merlin Game at his face.
  7. I craved hamburgers with my last two pregnancies. Not McDonalds, but real hamburgers. Like, man hamburgers.
  8. Nine times out of ten I will order eggs benedict when out to breakfast. Heartland Scramble if we're at Denny's.
  9. I had that dreadful Dorothy Hamill haircut when I was about nine. Was mistaken for a boy more than once. Was also warned by my mother beforehand, more than once.
  10. I own an obscene amount of makeup that I don't wear.
  11. I wanted to name our daughter Madeline, Caroline, or Charlotte. My husband did not. Oh the plans how they change.
  12. I pretty much plan my summer wardrobe around flip-flops.
  13. I'm uncompromising about the no food and drink rule in my car. And also its cleanliness.
I know I'm supposed to tag others but I'm not. So if you all are still hanging in there and wanna, then getter done! Use it for a rainy-writer's-block-day.

Photo Google Images

Friday, May 16, 2008

**UPDATED SCROLL TO BOTTOM** Tootsie Talks ~ Some People Listen

Tootsie's weekly advice column. She's no expert, although she's not really sure what constitutes "expert". If it involves school, she attended the school of Very Strong Opinions. Questions are welcomed. Answers may borderline ridiculous.


Slogan of the day:

Next to the Breast, Tootsie Farklepants's the Best.

Enter a word for your own slogan:

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator. Get more tootsie farklepants slogans.



Q: Standing Still pretty much answers her own question: "Question. Age 45 and linebacker thighs. Not the thinnest they've been Shorts? I'm thinking, "not." Thanks."

A: I'm not a big shorts lover to begin with. Skirts, yes. Shorts, no. I've worn them, of course, but if you want to beat the heat then a skirt (just above the knee or longer) really is the way to go. Not only is there more air circulation but they're great sin hiders. Shorts make me think of kids and/or tourists. Skirts are classy even when casual and your sweaty legs won't stick to the seat when you try to get up.

Q: JCK of Motherscribe seeks smooth legs: "What is the best razor? And do you use shaving cream? I am known to go a day(s!!) without shaving, but if I try to shave every day I get nicked-up legs. Yet, if I go more than one day the sharpness of the hair is akin to Cactus thorns. The poor Sot husband has to wear armor to combat the razor burn from my legs! Help??"

A: I cannot even fathom shaving without shaving cream! I know I used plain ol' soap in those early years but I've assigned that memory to the dark parts of my brain that I no longer have access too. I use Skintimates shaving cream for dry skin for anything that needs shaving. And I use Venus disposable razors because I use a new one every time for the best results (I just cannot type that word without first typing "resluts"...dyslexia or something else?). The best is if you can manage a day or two in between so that there's a little growth to contend with. So? Can you? Can you manage to keep your legs to yourself for a day or two? Perhaps consult the Kamasutra for some tips on positions that don't involve your legs? I know it's on your bedside table, JCK. Don't lie.

Q: Inzaburbs seeks smoothness a little farther north: "While on the subject of razors - when replying to jck please be sure to include bikini line advice! I am committed to going to the pool every day this summer and do not want to wear one of those little skirty things that have made a resurgence."

A: Ooohhhh...Vag talk! My favorite! For the most attractive bikini line I recommend a wax. That is, if you can tolerate it AND afford it. And aren't shy since depending on what you need removed from where, your esthetician could be your new bestest friend; seeing parts of you that you yourself are physically incapable of witnessing. This was once common practice in my grooming rituals but like I said, it's pricey. Eventually, we sat down and had to have a imaginary serious discussion - just like countless married couples nationwide, I'm sure - about just how much of our household budget was being spent on my vagina. I mean, our oldest is going to need braces soon. A wax lasts about 3 weeks. So if you get it done just after you finish your period, it should last until you start again and during the time you are, um, occupied with a feminine hygiene product of some sort, this is when the regrowth can be allowed to flourish and you'll be ready for your next appointment. Seriously though, if you're just doing it for the summer, this is a good way to go. ~ how many men are still here? Raise your hand.

Q: OHMommy seeks parenting advice for the stubborn child: "How do you deal with a stubborn middle child that refuses to eat her green veggies?"

A: I'm probably the worst source for this particular advice considering my oldest child lived on Eggo Homestyle waffles for two years of his life and probably just barely dodged a raging case of scurvy. I know that Jessica Sienfeld thinks she's so original with her Deceptively Delicious ways, but mothers have been hiding veggies in their kids meals forEVER. If that doesn't work, consult your local pharmacist about making them into suppositories. Any child faced with that choice will happily take their veggies orally. If not, consult a therapist.

Q: Cheri has today's hair related question: "I'm thinking about the "Heather Armstrong on the Today show haircut." What do you think? It looks FABULOUS and even holds up under the dissin' of a couple of mean girls. It is hawt and could come in handy at PTA meetings . . ."

A: It is hot and you totally should! The "Dooce" would do for hair in the millennium like the "Rachel" did for the '90's. And it would probably draw in a whole new demographic of non-blog reading women who would be all, "who knew what I was missing?". I personally can't pull off a bob. It makes my chin and my neck appear to be one sole functioning organ and it ain't pretty. But if you aren't plagued by that particular kind of nasty, then go for it!

Q: The Mom Bomb is stumped by a critter from Nick Jr.: "Oh: another question for Prof. Farklepants! What the hell is "Uniqua" from Backyardigans? A bug? We could never figure it out."

A: What the hell is Uniqua?! Other than the fact that she's clearly a female judging by her name, why, she can't be filed neatly away in some category just to appease us! Our need for everything being just 'so'! She is intentionally vague. And she's all, "I'm Uniqua and I'm unique! The name says it all, so just deal" and then she gave three snaps up in Z-formation. And, I believe? Rolled her eyes and sucked breath through her teeth at us. She's becoming a bit of a prima donna from all the attention she gets.

***UPDATED***

Q: Karen at The Rocking Pony sent these questions via email AND I TOTALLY MISSED IT: "Okay, that's it. I've had it. What is there to do about sorting socks when you do laundry? With all the kids wearing similar sizes it's hard to know who's is who's. I HATE SORTING SOCKS. What do I do to avoid this? I've tried having the kids do this for me (because it's mostly their socks) but they don't really pull through like I'd hoped."

And I'm also looking for a lip gloss that works for me. I don't like shiny-glittery and I don't like gooey-sticky. I know you like Carmex (and I do, too) but I like something gives a little more gloss that than. Any suggestions? Thanks for your help. Too bad it's Friday and I have to wait a whole week for answers.

A: First of all I want to apologize that you had to wait, not only until Friday, but until the end of the day because a certain blogger that goes by the name of "Tootsie Farklepants" managed to forget to flag this message in her inbox. We've pulled her aside and had a chat about responsibilities. BUT! Don't feel too bad because Anglophilefootballfatnatic's submitted question has gone completely AWOL. Okay... Honestly? With the socks? Write their name or first initial on the bottom heel. With my daughter being in preschool and socks mandatory, almost every pair she owns has her name written on the bottom. And if your kids don't want to go for that because it's not cool or they think it's lame, or whatever, then they risk wearing mismatched sized socks.

Lipgloss... repeat after me: Cover Girl Wetslicks. I wear it in Iced Berry and Wine Shine. It is not too gooey, sticky, sparkly, or look as if you ate a glitter sandwich for lunch. It's pretty sheer too, which I like. One drawback, and I will be honest, it is not long lasting. You'll have to reapply every couple of hours. But I've been using it for about three years now. Which means it will be discontinued soon.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

This Post...It Meanders

In case you were even considering going to Toys R Us to purchase some My Little Ponies? Don't. Even. Bother. Girl-Child bought them all with her gift cards from Christmas. Yes. Christmas. Try Target. Here they are watching Seabiscuit a My Little Pony DVD:



And when you're at the register paying for your bounty and the cashier asks you for your phone number as part of the ring up process: DON'T DO IT! A few weeks ago I had to break down and buy Girl-Child new tap shoes at Payless. Before I knew what was happening my phone number came flying out of my mouth. Because the lady was all, "what's your phone number?" and she didn't even buy me a drink first or anything. I'm all thinking it's for some kind of security purpose regarding purchases made with a debit card, BUT NOOOOOOOO. I'm now on some automated recorded phone message system thingy (or, ARPMST). And they will call at an inconvenient time to let you know that it is BOGO at Payless. And I don't. know. how. to make it stop. BUT goddammit I was prepared when the young skater looking dude asked me for my number from behind the Toys R Us counter. I was all, "why?". And he was like, "Um, for the kjdpowjej". And I went, "you know what happens, right?". And he was all, ".....". So I'm all, "They will caalllll meeeee". And he was all, "duuuude, no. way". And I was like, "way. Those Payless bastards totally called me". And he was like, "That's messed up". And I was all, "I know, right!"...

Awkward segue:

On Sunday afternoon my sister in law dropped by for a lovely afternoon of gossiping bonding and also so that our girls could play together. Oh. And also so that the men-folk (Boy-Child#1, Mr. Farklepants, and two of my brother's in law) could attend the Rush concert. They didn't really plan to go out on Mother's Day but the tickets were bought months ago. And without consulting a calender. Why didn't I go? Because, quite simply, I hate Rush with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. I know some of you just dropped dead I will send your family a lovely Hallmark card To me it sounds like one of the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz with a really kick ass band behind him. Eliminate the singer and I could tolerate it. So, while they were gone, we ladies enjoyed a to-go order of grilled turkey sandwiches with melted brie cheese, red onions, avocados, sweet potato fries, and an orgasm. We also shared a lemon bar, a pecan something bar that was like pecan pie only square, and a cranberry cookie. The kids ate something I don't remember what because of the afterglow.

Do you know what happens to two little girls aged 3 and 4 who don't get to see each other often enough but are the best of friends? They pee their pants. God, I wish I was kidding. The first to forget that a toilet is supposed to be involved when relieving oneself was my 3 year old niece. When she walked past us with the telltale wet spot on the back of her pants my sister in law and I spent the next 10 minutes trying to find out where the puddle in my house was. Living room carpet. Que sera sera. Worse things have happened. Then after an exhausting hour of bubble blowing outdoors, my own daughter came rushing through the house holding her crotch. Not a good sign. Also not good? Forcing her to wash the slick bubble soap off her hands before touching anything. Running water + pee-pee dance = just plain mean. That'll teach me and my OCD ways. She made it into the bathroom just in time to piss all over herself and the rug. It was all part of my master plan because I really want a new rug in there anyway. Of course, it's only pee so I COULD just wash it. And the thought of asking her to also poop on it seemed a little extreme. And gross. The end.

Unrelated yet related something or other:


This stuffed hippopotamus was a gift to Girl-Child from her auntie. It is so soft and scrunchy that I want to stuff my bra with it. Girl-Child has named it "Hippo-Hippo". At four years old her creativity for names has runneth out. I expect her first born child to be named "Baby Human....Rockefeller".

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

I Wonder if it's Available as an Action Figure

Alternate Title: The Post Where I'm Kinda Glad My Mom Doesn't Read My Blog and ohmygod Where is She Going With This?

This is the show Yo Gabba Gabba that airs on Nick Jr., which I'm sure most of you already know is Nickelodeon for the toddler and preschool set. Harmless enough show if you don't mind the impulse to give yourself electric shock therapy via jamming a fork in the nearest operating toaster, like one does while watching The Wiggles or Teletubbies. Same-same.



What's this? I believe we need to take a closer look at the character, Muno...


Yes. Yes, that's what I thought. Muno appears to be encased in a Japanese Crown Studded condom. For her pleasure. This action figure would make a great stocking stuffer for that special lady. Start your Christmas lists now.

You are SO welcome!

Because, seriously? If, after watching this show for the first time, you didn't think to yourself (or perhaps out loud?) that there is a giant orange bumpy dildo* jumping around on your television singing about things like sharing, taking turns, and being afraid of the dark? Then there is a whole new world out there for you to explore.

*for the record: Spell check does not like the word "dildo". Prude.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Amidst the Cacaphony an Aging Wannabe Jock Expects Very Important Call. Probably From His Mommy

We attended Boy-Child#2's softball game Saturday morning where our Dodgers played another team. A team with an obnoxious crew of coaches and assistant coaches. I don't want to say the name of this team out loud but let's just say it rhymes with Wan Biego Fadres (fee-fi-mo-Madres). This is boys softball through the local parks and recreation. Meaning: for fun. We intentionally didn't put our son in the hard core league and one major reason for that was to avoid exactly these kinds of adults. The adults who take it all a little too seriously. The adults who are reliving their glory days as a mediocre baseball player from high school PE class who didn't quite measure up for the actual Varsity team. Those guys. Their mouths? Never stopped moving. A constant barrage from 3rd base, 1st base, and the dugout of: Wait for it. Make it your ball. Not up here. At your chest. Take a couple steps toward the plate. Take a step back toward the catcher. Put your weight on that back foot. Loosen up. Take a couple practice swings. [as the pitch is in motion] Hit it! Don't hit that! (come on people we're talking about kids softball don't let your mind go there like mine just did) And my personal favorite: Don't worry about hitting the catcher (my son, thanks for asking) he'll get out of the way. Editor's note: You better hope he does.


(PSA: take practice swings away from catcher's head or risk facing the business end of my can of whoop-ass. It is epic. That is all.)

I'm not even kidding when I say that they. did. not. stop. EVER. This constant coaching is what practice is for. Now is game day. Let them show you what they can do.

As Mr. Farklepants has noted on more than one occasion (usually because I tend to give too much instruction to our son before he's up to bat), if the parents would just shut up and let the kids play it would take most of the pressure off of them. Because they're under enough of a burden just being out there in front of all of us in attendance. So says our very scientific study. A study we like to call: Parenthood.

P.S. The head coach of the Wan Biego Fadres (fee-fi-mo-Madres) wore a BlueTooth throughout the entire game. Which, according to Mr. Farklepants' keen eye, elevates him to a new level of douchebaggery.

Monday, May 12, 2008

The Post That Makes You Say Awwww....and Maybe Ack!


As you can plainly see, Friday was the Mother's Day Tea at Girl-Child's preschool. Not only that, apparently some are behind in paying their May tuition. And have forgotten socks. When Boy-Child#2 attended this same preschool some few years ago, we mothers were treated to a pedicure as our special gift. Not one for being taken off guard, when I dropped my daughter off at 9:00am, I asked one of the teachers the requisite question:

Me: "You don't have to tell me what you're doing here today just let me know if I should go home and shave my legs"

Teacher: "When in doubt, shave your legs"

See? I not only give advice; I seek and heed it. I wanted to be surprised I just didn't want to be surprised.


We enjoyed a spread that consisted of banana-strawberry smoothies and cinnamon toast. I had forgotten how much I love cinnamon toast. (Note to self: Make this)


Some of us enjoyed it more than others.

Second picture. Third glass. I had to hide her keys.


Mother and daughter. We're both wearing leggings because I like to dress like a four year old. It helps me feel younger. So does sitting my 5' 8", one hundred and lksdjf pound self in a chair designed for four year olds. Also? I don't have one of those cameras that adds ten pounds. My camera adds anorexia. I don't know what the hell my clavicle and my manubrium are doing here but they are very proud of themselves! (Note to self: Enjoy occasional donut)


Quiet Cozy area where your child can administer a massage. And when I say massage I mean jump on your back. By the way, there's a mother out there right now who would kick my ass if she knew this photo was here. Let's not tell her, mmmkay?


This is where the magic happened. I say magic because I was *this* close to paying for a pedicure last Wednesday but magically ran out of time. (Note to self: Bullet dodged)


The finished product. Bright pink (otherwise known as fuschia) polish over existing plumby red and also major portions of toes. And underneath. Look for it in magazines this summer.


Sunday morning, Mr. Farklepants hog-tied and duct taped the children's mouths shut kept the children quiet so that I could sleep in. Until a ringing phone woke me at 9am. I'm not going to say who it was that called that early on a Sunday morning but it was someone who was eager to hear a "Happy Mother's Day". Hint: not my mom.

School made gifts from my boys were a painted ceramic tile (Boy-Child#2) and a jar full of love notes from Boy-Child#1 that said things like: "I love you because you're nice", "I love you because you give me food", "I love your hair", "I love how you do my laundry", "I love pie", "I love you because you gave me a dad", and "I love you because I do". You know what Boy-Child#1? I love my hair too. And pie.

We here at Vintage Thirty (and by we I mean me) hope you thoroughly enjoyed your Mother's Day!!!

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Updating the Blogroll and a Thank You

Blogroll

I've got a hundred few blogs favorited that I need to add to my blogroll. Also? If you'd like to have yours added leave a comment or if you're shy, drop me an email through my profile over there on the right! I've let this go unattended for way too long.

I'd also like to say hello to all of the people who stopped by here since Friday via Woulda Coulda Shoulda. The lovely Mir linked my site in her Friday entry and when I checked my stat count before I'd had my morning coffee, I was shocked to find the amount of heavy traffic that had been through here. So I was all, "um WTH? WHO is talking about me?" so I checked the referral list and it revealed page after page of the following:

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http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
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http://www.myembarq.com/google...0paste%20for%20wrinkle%20cream
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http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
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http://wouldashoulda.com/2008/...ittle-pitchers-have-big-snark/
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And after that stellar bit of detective work, I was all, "it's probably that". I know, right? The CIA should seriously consider hiring me. Anyway, I was highly honored. You see, Mir's blog was the first "Mommy Blog" (to borrow the condescending air quotes used by Hoda Kotb on The Today Show) that I'd ever read. And it was through comments left on her blog from her readers that I found other awesome blogs that I still visit today. Another and? Leaving comments there brought new readers to me! Her blog also is what inspired me to be more personal and less generic in my writing. So, thank you, Mir! I don't think you know just how much Monkey finding my name hilarious really means to me! Hint: a lot.

Editor's Note: I know that Blogger was having an allergic reaction to comments yesterday. Hopefully by now its had its medicine and is operating at an acceptable level of functionality.

Friday, May 9, 2008

Tootsie Talks ~ Some People Listen

Tootsie's weekly advice column. She's no expert, although she's not really sure what constitutes "expert". If it involves school, she attended the school of Very Strong Opinions. Questions are welcomed. Answers may borderline ridiculous.


Vintage Thirty would like to apologize for the apparent haphazardness of todays post. Tootsie spent a good portion of her evening ignoring her family trying to visit the blogs of all the new readers that stopped by here this week. Then she spent the remainder of the middle of the night not having sex with her husband visiting the advice portion of her brain so that she felt confident that she was giving you her all and not short sheeting your beds. And then? She hit some key on her keyboard and the whole post went POOF! And it wasn't until after she rammed her head through the nearest wall that she remembered to simply click the "back" button and VOILA! Crisis averted.

Q: OHMommy, the super adorable host of Classy Chaos needs THE cream: "I turned thirty last year. I have three kids and three forehead wrinkles. I am really afraid of what my 40s will bring - I actually dislike looking in the mirror and seeing myself age so fast. I have vowed to take better care of my skin by drinking more water and moisturizing my face, neck, and chest every night/day, and using sunscreen. However, the wrinkles will not go away. Without spending hundreds of dollars on fancy creams and botox... what can I get at Target to start minimizing these prominent forehead wrinkles. I am desperately seeking help."

A: Funny how thirty just up and betrays you, isn't it? Although it is no laughing matter and I totally and completely know what you mean. That was around the time that I wished I had started taking better care of my skin when I was twenty. Check out this post for the ultimate skin cream. And really give that stubborn affected (effected? grammar is hard) area nightly massages with the L'Oreal Wrinkle Decrease (night). Because I'm convinced that along with the cream, simply rubbing it on a consistent basis is key. That's what she said.

Q: Shania of Craving Silence is attempting that quandary for the ages: "A question for your next advice session: I'm considering growing out my natural color. Any advice on how to make the grow out phase less painful?"

A: I have to admit that this one has me stumped. Timely too. I just saw a young woman yesterday, whom I'm assuming is an art student at the local Cal Arts college, who is doing just this thing. Her hair was jet black and her very natural mousy blonde roots were about five inches long. But? She's an art student I think and was totally pulling it off. In the event that you aren't also an art student or in some type of edgy profession where you can pull off a grunge look; I suggest investing in some cute hats, scarves, and perhaps cutting your hair as short as you comfortably can. And fortunately those wide headbands that tie all the way around your crown are in right now. So you can pull your hair back into a messy bun and wrap that band around the exposed roots. In the meantime there are mild semi-permanent colors out there (have it professionally done) that can help with the waiting period.

Q: Burgh Baby's Mom is representing the fashion portion of today's column: "Question for you--if I were to go drop $100 on some summer clothes for myself, what should I get?"

A: Now that you're famous spend more! ahem...I imagine you're like most women me and want to get as much as you can for that hundred dollars. I would try to get a few pieces that are mix and matchable thus garnering more outfits than you actually bought. For instance one pair of neutral pants and as many tops as you can with what is left over. You can get away with wearing the pants a couple of days a week and pair it with a different top each time. I don't know if you have a New York and Company near you but they have a great selection for just that sort of thing and their prices are pretty low. They also often have decent sales like 2 for 1 or buy one get one half off things that make you kind of shiver in places you don't like to admit out loud. At least in public. In front of strangers. Or here on a blog for anyone to see. You know what I'm saying.

Q: The San Diego Momma is no poseur: "Now back to my hair. Should I get it cut like Jackie on Work Out? Or is that a poseur cut?"

A: Can I just say that you would totally rock that cut? You would. Since Farrah Fawcett a shag has never been out of style. It may have evolved over the years but it's still a shag. The great thing about that cut is that you can make it into a different hairstyle everyday. Curl it, flat iron it, blow it under, flip it up, smack it flip it rub it down OHHHhh! And it's still long enough to pull it up on those days that it decides to be a bitch.

Q: Anglophilefootballfanatic Has a request and some advice of her own: "Oh, please Ms Farklepants, Ma'am, will you give us a grand finale post with all the pimped out products you've told us we need? Like for Friday even? I can't keep going back in time to see what I have been missing out on. Oh, but my big time recommendation? DHC's Eye Off Shade. It REALLY does make black puffy eyes look stellar."

A: Since you asked, I shall. In fact, I'll bullet point them due to their supreme awesomeness (because supreme awesomeness deserves a bullet point):

  • L'Oreal Wrinkle Decrease (Night) ~ for the face
  • L'Oreal Professionnel liss extreme cera liss system ~ for le hair
  • Garnier Nutritioniste Ultra-Lift anti-wrinkle firming eye cream ~ um, your eyes
  • Matrix Sleek.Look shampoo and conditioner
  • Dove Energy Glow Daily Moisturizer with Subtle Self-Tanners ~ le fake bake
  • L'Oreal Voluminous (not waterproof) mascara (I wear it in black)
  • Proactiv Renewing Cleanser ~ just the cleanser. I find the whole system to be very drying of the skin which, in my opinion, accelerated the premature wrinkling of my skin
  • Carmex lip balm ~ yes the one for cold sores but it only costs about a buck and blows everything else away for soft lips.

    I believe that includes all the products from past posts. My work here is done. For today.