Hey Son, Van Halen Called. Want to Know When You Can Tour.

Hi. I became a stage mother. To a rock star. Please to enjoy my bursting pride:

Drink Two of These and Call Me in the Morning

Boy-Child#2 begins softball season next week and Tootsie will pretend that it hasn't been two weeks since she last updated her blog the family makes a night of what will be known as Tootsie's Preparedness Awareness Program. First stop, a new restaurant in town. The Farklepants' are very excited about this new discovery because A) it isn't a chain restaurant, and B) they take reservations. Unfortunately? Everyone else in town is also very excited about this. This is the Farklepants' second visit to Sabor, and still smarting from their original visit they made without a reservation and the days long wait for a table, Tootsie called ahead to reserve a dining time of......9pm. Because it was either that or 4:30pm and at 4:30pm, Tootsie is still full from lunch.

Tootsie doesn't waste precious time getting down to business with her prescription comically huge margarita.

Which generates a heightened warm and fuzzy feeling for a certain Mr. Farklepants. She is keen on him. And asks you to ignore his mouth full of chips face.

Tootsie reiterates "comically huge".

Three baskets of chips later.... they bring a fourth - and the Farklepants aren't ones to kick it out of bed.

Dinner that's not only mouth watering delicious; it's also fancy. Tootsie's sister had the Enchiladas de Mariscos that were stuffed with crab, shrimp, and little slices of heaven.

Tootsie had the Chile Relleno stuffed with tender chicken breast. Also known as Mmm-mmm served up with a side of GOOD GOD! And Tootsie is happy to report that since she's not accustomed to eating a large meal past 7pm; the heartburn she endured was pleasurable.


**all photos by Dorothy Z.

Open Letter to Very Important People, Part Deux

Please to enjoy part one here.

Dear Honda Driver,

I realize that navigating one's way through the mammoth area reserved for parking, adjacent to a strip mall that boasts heavily trafficked stores, including but not limited to, Walmart, Old Navy, and a defunct Circuit City can be a might tricky. Those lanes reserved for actual driving? Ignore those. And while we're on the subject; stop signs are for punks. Please continue to drive through vacant parking spaces and pop out of no fecking where. I like this. It's fun. Makes driving kind of like a game of hide 'n seek. Also? My heart was due for an overdose of adrenaline. It's been too long since my hair stood on end. I now understand the Honda slogan, "the fit is go". The car fits in between parked cars and it goes. And those that follow the rules of the road be damned.

Signed,

The Lady in the Lexus with the Very Surprised Look on Her Face who Screamed Oh Shit

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

Dear Hundred Plus Junior High School Parents,

Believe me when I say that I know what a pain in the ass it is that whoever the city planner was that decided to place the junior high, high school, and one elementary school across the street from each other with one way in and out, and simultaneous dismissal times, with a combined enrollment of approximately FOUR THOUSAND; thought this was a good idea. I get it. They were stoned. It's a colossal joke. It's crowded. And makes things very trafficky and people very impatient-y. Please continue to park curbside on this heavily congested street while you wait for your child to walk down the hill to your car, partially blocking traffic in one of the three lanes offered. Oh, and those "no stopping at anytime" signs? Merely a suggestion, I'm sure.

Sincerely,

The Lady who got Hung Out to Dry when the Light Turned Red while Waiting for you to Finish Your Illegal Parallel Parking Job and who Wouldn't have Risked it if She'd Known you were Going to Throw that Bitch in Reverse

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

Dear Straight Up Bitch,

I was absolutely aware that I had a green arrow to turn left. Funny thing I learned in driving school way back in, ooohhhh, high school - when the driver of a vehicle has the right of way they still have to yield to traffic and/or any obstacles. For instance, like what just happened, when the light turned green and the cars in front of me turned into the circular drive in front of the junior high? Yeah, well, the reason I didn't go? Even though I had a green light? Was because there were at least two cars that were still backed up in the intersection and I had NO WHERE TO GO. Here's a little driver's ed tip for you: you aren't supposed to block the intersection. So, thanks for the honk. Always appreciated. But more especially thank you so much for driving around and pulling in front of me. I have to say I got a more than a little pleasure watching you sit there in the middle of the intersection completely hindering the flow of traffic. I laughed a little when you banged on your steering wheel.

Your Truly,

Smiley

p.s. Your car is ugly.

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

Dear Chatty Cathy,

A lot of people make the choice to not watch the news. I understand. It's been mostly reduced to sensationalism. But there was a law passed last year that makes it illegal to use your hand held cell phone and/or device here in California. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you didn't know. Or maybe it was an emergency and you just HAD to use it. Judging by your obvious laughter at whatever was said; it was a very funny emergency.

Best Wishes,

Where's a Cop When You Need One

Can You Press the Rewind Me Some of That Button? On Your Remote?

If you're a parent to a small child you're most likely subjected to the occasional Noggin viewing. One show that Girl-Child is partial to is the Upside Down Show. I'm rather fond of it as well. Not for the educational value. Or the songs. Or the interactive quality which permeates today's preschool television programming. No. It is because of David and Shane...oh Shane:


Which? Truth be told? I find...oh let's see... how do you say? Sexy. They make suffering through Yo Gabba Gabba and Wow Wow Wubbzy tolerable.

And here they are again - in an instant replay.



I know. There's something wrong with me You agree.

*photo Google Images / video YouTube

Mamas Don't Let Their Babies Grow Up to Drink Newcastle

The weather in southern California has been unusual the past couple of weeks. We're not accustomed to rain in these parts and we know that we need it, but after a few days [where few equals: one] we're all, enough already. Because there are several things that southern Californians are unable to do when there is water falling out of the sky. Some of those things include but are not limited to:

• Driving
• Scheduled field trips
• Walk
• Leave the house
• Drive
• Handle their hydroplaning car on the freeway
• Remember their umbrella (if they own one)
  
• Operate an umbrella efficiently
• Also, drive

We were to attend my sister in law's fortieth birthday party on Saturday. Two hours away from our house. In between storms. Storms that were dumping several feet of snow at the top of the Grapevine. The Grapevine is the I-5 that will take you to Canada if you head north and Mexico if you choose to venture due south. And when the snow covers the Grapevine the Grapevine comes to a screeching halt. It is closed. Out of order. Cerrado [my limited Spanish vocabulary made possible by Sesame Street and a grant from the W.M. Keck Foundation and other sponsors].

The storms were expected to hit Friday night and again Sunday afternoon. This was to be an overnight trip. If we left too early we'd never make it up there. If we made it up there and left too late, we'd never make it home. I'm happy to report that we scheduled our respective departure times accordingly and accurately. We were able to celebrate her fortieth year with a rousing game of Apples to Apples. And a three hour match of...quarters.

The Unknown Imbiber:

The last of which ended with one member puking in the kitchen sink. Because nothing says forty like high school college drinking games with so many rules, drunkards are bound to fail.

*Photo by Dorothy Z. ...rules made by various thumb masters.

And My Creative Juices got Sucked Right Down the Rabbit Hole

I know. I know. I've sorely neglected my blog. Not only am I not posting daily like the good old days but now I'm lucky if it's once a week [hold on while I check...yep...once a week]. I've over extended myself in all different directions and by the time I find a moment to write I just don't have the creative energy to put finger to keyboard. I get started and then I run out of juice and have to force myself not to write: and then she passed out on her monitor and drooled on the screen, the end.

When Girl-Child, the last of the flock to leave the nest, started kindergarten in the fall; I imagined three glorious me-time hours five days a week. Someone has an overactive imagination. Those hours are quickly scheduled with various whatnot and some of that involves the volunteering that I do at the elementary school. It's not that I don't enjoy it, it's just that sometimes? I just don't wanna. Like yesterday. It was pouring down rain and the last thing I wanted to do was spend the morning with energetic, three foot tall, clingy, grabby, can't follow multi-step instructions, sticky fingered children...that aren't mine except for one.

[Informational aside: the class is run in rotating "centers". One group is in reading, one in math, another group does "seat work" at their desks, and the other is in art center. As the volunteer, I oversee the art center group and help with the seat work while the two teachers run reading and math...now you're up to speed]

And the more time I spend in the kindergarten class the more it becomes glaringly obvious: I could never be a kindergarten teacher. I shall list the reasons:

1) I lack a certain amount of patience. Where certain amount equals: any at all.

2) I am not able to repeat warnings in a sing-songy voice. I'm more of a it's my way or the highway kind of grown-up.

3) The little girl that has made a career in keeping me informed of who isn't doing their work, and who hasn't written their name on their paper, and who didn't color their paper as instructed, and who forgot their homework folder, and who was absent yesterday, and who just blew their nose and the hue and consistency of what landed in that tissue? That little girl, bugs the everloving crap out of me. And I can barely contain myself from telling her to mind her own damn business and no one ever liked a tattle-tale. [ Hello, have we met? I'm 37 going on 10]

4) The little girl who tells people where they can sit, and who can sit with whom, and who she'll be gracing her presence with to play with that day, and who she won't, and who would like for me to read all the riddles from her yogurt container to her? Is in for a rude awakening. Tootsie is not going to read to the little girl who wouldn't let Tootsie's daughter sit next to her at the art center table. That little girl is lucky Tootsie didn't push her down.

5) The little boy who simply will not do his work but would like to distract the others' from doing theirs? Yeah, he's not ready for kindergarten. If he hasn't got with the program by now, he ain't a gettin'. Send him home and away from me. And also? I'm not motivated to encourage him. In fact, I don't give a fricken frack.

6) That boy who hums CONSTANTLY?!!? Yeah, that needs to stop.

7) My threshold for girls that CRY OVER EVER SINGLE REAL OR IMAGINED THING is excessively low. Man the hell up, Damsel in Distress. There is no sense in crying over glue on your finger. Or the lack of pink handled scissors. Or Monday.

8) Projectile Boy: crayons are not missiles. Nor are pencils. Or whateverthehellelse it is you're throwing across the room.

9) Rainy day schedule. Inside recess - need I say more?

Raise your hand if you're glad that a certain someone is not the parent volunteer in your child's classroom.

She Failed to Mention the Most Important Aspect

Friday night I joined my best girlfriends for dinner to finally exchange our Christmas gifts try a new Chinese restaurant in town. Not traditional Chinese fare, but that more modern overpriced but still pretty good, kind. Super martinis. And we've reached that age where we discuss, what else? Our health. Things like, I have this new mole I think the doctor should see. And, how long we had to wait for a referral to the dermatologist. And, decent health care coverage. Exciting things like that. I complained about how I've seemed to develop some kind of chronic dry eye and how applying 1-2 drops of Visine Tears as needed was not doing my mascara any favors every 30 minutes or so. So my girlfriend fills us in on her daily vitamin and supplement routine recommended by her doctor; part of which includes the fish and omega-3 fatty acids oil something or other. And how since she's started this, not only has it relieved HER dry eyes, but her skin as well. And I was all, sign me up!

I picked some up during my regular trip to the grocery yesterday [note to self: don't ever visit the grocery store on Super Bowl Sunday one hour before kick off ever again in your life ever because you've made it this far in life without, ya know, murdering someone - let's keep it that way...mmmmkay?] . Plus it was buy one get one free and I was set! The directions state to take one gel capsule with each meal. So after my hearty lunch of, um, Quaker Oatmeal Squares cereal, I took my first capsule.

About 45 minutes later I would have sworn I'd eaten salmon for lunch. And for the next 8 hours, ladies and gentlemen, I belched fish. And probably won't be able to eat salmon again as long as I live.

That 8 hour belch fest was in the comfort of my own home. What about when I'm in public and try to do one of those lady-like discreet, under her breath and no that wasn't me, burpettes? There's no masking that. These things have legs. They have bite.

And those two full bottles of omega-3? They are currently in my father's possession. He's a man. He can pull off a fish burp.

Hair - Not the Love Rock Musical - and With Less Nudity

Or more accurately; stuff you put on yer hair. I have been a major supporter of Sleek.look smoothing shampoo and conditioner by Matrix for about two years running now.


As is Glamour Magazine, obviously.


It can be found ONLY IN SALONS. At least, that's what they tell you. I don't usually like to point out when one's pants are on fire, but it can also be found in select beauty supply stores. And Target. And Vons. But, ya know, whatevs. I do the beauty supply store route because you can get the economy size for the same price as the heroin chic version found in salons. And Target. And Vons. And it lasts just shy of forever. Especially if you turn it upside down and drain the everloving life out of it. Until you have to accept that it really is empty and has just become a trash item in your shower stall.

But what's a girl to do when she finds herself out of shampoo and doesn't want to drive the three miles to the mall to get more? [It's not really that I don't want to drive; it's more like I can't walk out of the mall with just that. I'm too tempted to pick up a pair of shoes or a bag or a pair of jeans to go with my hair care products. And with the credit and debit card still smarting from Christmas; I don't want to give Mr. Farklepants a stroke. Because I'm thoughtful like that.]

So I tried to find a suitable substitute in the grocery store. Even though it goes against everything I believe in when it comes to hair products. But I did it quick. Like pulling off a band aid. And I went with the Bed Head Moisture Maniac shampoo. Fruity scent aside, I'm really likin' this.


Particularly coupled with the Joico K-PAK conditioner.

And the "silky hair that does just what I want it to with very little effort to beat it into submission" factor allows me to overlook its fruity scent. [Note to manufacturers: Try soap scented. I don't like smelling like a summer melon, thanks.]

Mr. Farklepants is not crazy about the shampoo. In his words it "feels like he never washed his hair by the end of the day". But he doesn't use the conditioner in addition to it so I can't be held responsible for his lack of enthusiasm to get behind this product.

*Matrix photos courtesy of Google Images

Now a Little Something From the Keyword Activity Files

I haven't checked the search terms in my stat counter that bring people to my blog in quite some time. And frankly, I should do this more often. That's just free entertainment, people. Let's cut right to the chase, shall we? **all typos and improper grammar are intentional**

1. Canadian Girl Doll vs. American Girl Doll

Now I don't know what image this conjures up for you but I picture a boxing ring. The Canadian doll wears a maple leaf on her chest like Superman's "S" and the American Girl doll is wearing the US flag as a cape. The American Girl is taunting, "bring it biatch!" and the Canadian Girl is all, "how did I get here, eh? What's all this aboot?".

2. Do bed bugs come from pee and juice on the couch?

First, ew. And then I'm going to wager - neither. And also? Wouldn't those be couch bugs and what's a bed got to do with it?

3. Fun things to do with your American Girl Doll

You mean besides boxing? Nine times out of ten they probably end up like any other kind of doll: naked and in compromising positions.

4. Do Olympic gymnast wear pads or tampons?

I think the answer fairly obvious but fortheloveofgod why would someone need to know this?

5. Vintage sex animation

Hey. Whatever gets your motor running. Who am I to judge?

6. If your 21 and still don't have facial hair is something wrong?


AND...

7. My daughters have facial hair

These two should talk.

And our winner:

8. Naughty Allie giving sweet whipcream humdinger


Naughty Allie doesn't live here but tell us more about this sweet whipped cream humdinger!

It's January. Dry Much?

Alternate Title: The Bathroom Cabinet Chronicles: Partie une (That's French for Part One because I'm fancy)

Ahem.

The middle of winter can be really hard on your skin. And here in Southern California the forecast is harsh:


Okay. But it's a brutally dry seventy-five degrees. And my skin has been all, WTF cracked and scaly? And Lubriderm is just not cutting the mustard. So I set about finding something with a little more...huevos. Something that could withstand 10% humidity and 13 MPH winds. Because, Lord knows, with weather like this, who can bend their fingers what with all the dry? Plus? A skirt coupled with ashy legs scares the kids.

Behold the vat of Eucerin! It's 16 ounces but weighs five pounds, just trust me. One tub should get you through the winter. Apply liberally to hands, feet, elbows, and the often neglected chest - because how else to get rid of those unsightly wrinkly betwixt the boob creases from side sleeping - and who knows what I'm talking about? Your eyes are not always the first signs of age; I'm just sayin. It's a known fact that moisturized skin appears younger - because that is what all the beauty magazines tell us.

Speaking of eyes, have you ever scrutinized glimpsed a picture of yourself and thought, what in THE hell has happened to my eyes? That's okay. You don't have to admit it out loud. And did you then think to yourself, it's time to build a weapons arsenal to go all daisy cutter on the offensive surrounding area? Well, so did I. And build it I did. To recap:




To any ancient Spaniards that may still roam the New World: The fountain of youth is not a well in Florida, Juan Ponce de Leon! It's aisle twelve in your local Target.

Another also? This is why it takes 45 minutes for me to get ready for bed - and we haven't even discussed cleansing the face prior to application of all of the above.

Join us tomorrow for our next installment... focus: hair.

Her Name Was Baby...

The Farklepants family lost a dear friend today. She was a member of our family for thirteen years this month.

She was Boy-Child#1's best friend.

She was my lone companion while the kids were in school and Mr. Farklepants was at work.

She loved underpants and had an ongoing not so secret love affair with the cardboard centers of toilet paper and paper towel rolls.


She frequently raided the pantry.

And the trash.

She enjoyed stashing prepackaged snacks into the corners of the sofa.

She was known to steal a roast or the Thanksgiving turkey carcass right off the counter.

She hated the vet and, in the office, would stand on her hind legs and wrap her arms around my neck whenever she had to go there.

She thought she was a lap dog. She weighed nearly one hundred pounds.

She liked to be in whichever room we were all in.

She slept in our room.

She liked to chase rabbits and birds.

She didn't like to leave the house.

She was often the thorn in my side and the straw that broke this camel's back.

She often slept on our beds when we left the house.

She always greeted us upon our return.

She enjoyed helping me do laundry, fold clothes, take a shower, cook dinner, bring in the groceries.

She did NOT enjoy helping me vacuum or blow dry my hair.

She was not a fan of bodies of water, rain, snow, or wind.

Cell phones drove her mad. So did air compressors. And vacuums. And hair dryers.

She scared the bejesus out of the pizza delivery guy. And the UPS man.

She was as gentle as a lamb even if she looked super ferocious.

Her bed lay empty. Yesterday's food still sits in her dish.

We were all with her in her final moments.

And there is a hole in my heart now that she's gone.

I miss you Baby. We miss you. May you rest in peace you sweet Baby, you.

The Universe Called, There's Been a Change of Plans

Today started like any other back to school after a long break day. Three weeks is a long winter break; and while the first two weeks were filled with exciting events like Christmas and a trip to Disneyland, this last week brought about a raging case of cabin fever for all three kids [and one mother who had had it up to *here* and who also likes to preach to the choir - can I get an amen?].

The morning was a balmy 75 degrees, clear blue skies, and a breeze coming from the north-east. I dropped two of the children off at the elementary school and then it was off to the junior high. Idling in gridlock traffic because - Note to city planner: Whose idea was it to situate the high school and junior high and one (not ours) elementary school across the street from each other with a combined enrollment of approximately FIVE THOUSAND?!?! With only one way in and one way out? So that it takes 30 minutes round trip to take my son to school only 1.5 miles from my home? - ahem... oh, yes...Idling in gridlock traffic I was silently berating myself for electing to volunteer in Girl-Child's kindergarten class for the morning because it would have been really nice to have the house to myself for the first time in three weeks, even if only for just three hours. Nice and quiet.

I've often noted that with the high volume of traffic I deal with on a daily basis each morning and afternoon just to get my son to and from school, and the number of fender benders I'm witness to; it would only be a matter of time before I was involved in one myself...

And who knows where this is going?

I dropped my son off and made my way through the circular drive and waited to pull into traffic. My view was hindered by a city bus depositing an assload of teenagers. I inched forward waiting to see if all was clear. I determined it was and cautiously accelerated only to have to stop abruptly when a car whipped around the bus, darting into my lane. The car behind me? Not so much with the stopping. There was the telltale CRUNCH and I was all...well...it rhymes with DUCK.

We got out to survey the damage and fortunately I only lost a tail light. And also fortunately the driver? My neighbor from across the street - boy did he have egg on his face. So once we knew who each other were, and he knew I wouldn't slap him with a bogus whiplash claim, and I knew where to find him when I needed the bill paid for the light; we were all - see ya on the cul de sac homeslice [or at least I think that's what he said since he speaks very little English. He probably straight up called me a whore in Korean].

Now I was running late to make it to Girl-Child's class on time and I was about as NOT in the mood to deal with 30 kindergarteners fresh back from a three week vacation as I could be. But, I'd made the commitment. I relayed my accident news to Mr. Farklepants and then jumped in the shower. I was in the midst of prettying up when the phone rang.

Oh, what. the. hell. now-uh?

"Mrs. Farklepants? This is the nurse from the junior high. We have your son in here. He took a nasty spill and hit his head on a trash bin in the cafeteria. He's got quite a... (insert my visions of HORROR here...blood? Gash? Spurting? Stitches? Brain matter?) ...nasty bump on his head and you should probably pick him up and have him see a doctor and keep him home for observation".

Oh. Well, of course. Because obviously this day is just a test for how well I'll perform once I get to hell.