They Are Some Kinky People Out There In The Internets

Okay, which one of you came to my blog searching for:

"mommy and dog sex"

I have one thing to say to you, and you know who you are...

Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

(And sorry to disappoint you).

Don't come back now, 'ya hear?

You Kiss Your Children With That Mouth?

Dinnertime at the MM household:

Setting:
Me in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand following an afternoon of "blah, blah, blah, ice cream, blah, blah, blah, pokemon, blah, blah, blah, shorts from abercombrie&fitch, blah, blah, blah, has more pokemons than me, blah, blah, blah, has a cell phone, blah, blah, blah, how come I don't have a cell phone)

Me: "J, M, dinner's ready."

Them: (chirp, chirp)

Me: "J, M, dinner's ready."

Them: (chirp, chirp)

Me: "J, M, your dinners are getting cold. Come down, NOW."

M: "Just a second."

J: "Wha?"

Me: "Come down and wash your hands."

J: "Wha'd you say?"

Me: (aaaargh) Dinner! NOW. Come down and wash your hands.

J: "whaAAT! AVATAR'S NOT FINISHED YET. IT HAS TO FINISH FIRST! YOU NEVER LET ME WATCH AVATAR! ALL MY FRIENDS GET TO WATCH AVATAR! THIS IS SOOOO UNFAIR. WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!"

Me: "GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE NOW OR I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'LL NEVER GET TO WATCH AVATAR!"

J: "YOU'RE THE WORST MOM EVER!! I HATE YOU!"

Me: "F**k this shit. F**k. F**K!!! How did I get here? I wanna be back in San Francisco. Whaaaaa."


*photo courtesy of google images

Give Me The Grateful Life - Monday

So many things to be grateful for this Monday, where do I start....

• (Sing it with me like the true bitches we are...) I have a new iPhone - na, na, na, na, na. Woo hoo! I'm grateful cause this new baby rocks! Shhhhh, don't tell anyone but now I'm kinda glad I dumped the old geezer in the toilet.
• I'm grateful for crate training (oh yeah).
• I'm grateful for the Gods smiling upon me Saturday night and sending BOTH of my kids to other people's houses for SLEEPOVERS! (That was a first and definitely will NOT be the last.)
• I'm grateful for plumbers who know what the f**k they're doing (the first one didn't graduate plumber's remedial school.)
• I'm grateful for new friends. Lots and lots of amazing new friends. (You know who you are.)

How about you? What are you grateful for this week? Come on, share the zen. I dare you.

More of Me - Come On, You Know You Want It

My first post is up today at www.lamomsblog.com!

Unlike Groucho Marx,
I am proud to belong to a club that has me as a member.

Check it out here.

The Downside of the Digital Age

It's 6am. I'm surrounded by other early risers, sitting on beach chairs, blankets or, like me, a sidewalk that reeks faintly of pee.

Homeless people sleep sitting up on metal benches enjoying the last moments of peace before noisy crowds gather at the weekly farmer's market. One man severs the quiet as he pushes a squeaky shopping cart filled with his soiled possessions.

Some of us are listening to headphones, sipping coffee from paper cups, reading the paper, perusing scripts (this is LA). All of us are waiting for the new iPhone.

I am number 9. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 arrived at 3am. Last night, we saw the"green light" on Apple's website indicating new phones were in. The man in front of me tells me that if the green light is on it means they have at least 10 phones. So I'm good.

I've come a long way since yesterday when I showed up at 9am thinking I was smart to arrive a good hour before the store's opening. Little did I know that under these trying, iPhone deprived times, the store opened at 8am. Phones were sold out by 8:15.

My saga began over the weekend at BlogHer. I normally keep my phone in my purse but being away from my natural habitat, in noisy ballrooms and conferences, I put my phone in my back pocket on vibrate. During a bathroom break, when the phone hit the water before anything else, I quickly realized this was not a good idea.

I won't bore anyone (too much) by telling you of the depressing and frustrating afternoon that followed as I ran around the city in search of a new iPhone EXCEPT to say that after waiting over an hour at the Apple store the man in front of me purchased the very LAST iPhone in stock. I offered up my desperate story of a mother in a faraway city cut off from the two, young children she loved so dearly (I also flirted and offered up sexual favors) but he opted for the phone instead. I won't bore you (too much) by telling you of the lost night of camaraderie and mayhem (one that I'd looked forward to for months) as I ate room service food alone because I no longer had the phone numbers of new friends and could not fit shoes over my blistered and swollen feet.

So, here I am, days later, my ass on piss-covered cement, a savvy iPhone connoisseur, the early bird who catches the worm. Everyone around me has their own war stories. Two people arrived at stores before sunrise the day before, numbers 26 and 30 on line, to learn upon the store's opening that only 25 phones came in. Justin, the absolutely beautiful guy seated next to me (I coveted this guy's complexion) had camped out overnight in a less desirable part of town for the honor of being one of the first to own the new iPhone. A few days ago, someone stole it.

All of a sudden my saga lost it's edge. Like going to an Ivy League school after graduating valedictorian only to swim in a huge sea of other valedictorians.

Joggers, business people, police took pity on us, were curious about us. One even thought we were part of a movie shoot (I said this was LA). Annoying people joined the line breaking our sense of community (however temporary). A chain smoker accosted our fragile morning senses, a man continuously cracked the silence by scolding his (not too) wayward Yorkie.

By 7:30am, over a hundred people lined up. The empty streets were now peppered with people on their way to work and Starbucks. The homeless were camouflaged by business suits, bicycles, and laptops.

Apple was gracious as they handed out bottled water, gave friendly advice, and made an inconvenient situation tolerable, even enjoyable.

By 10:30am, I had my new iPhone synced up and ready to go. My contacts, calendar, music, podcasts - everything - was once again portable and in my hot little hand.

I felt like me again.



*I would have shown you my own pictures of this morning's adventure but I took them on my temporary phone and once the iPhone was activated I could no longer transfer them. Oh well, small price to pay.

**photos courtesy of Google Images

My BlogHer Bitches - IRL

I've been remiss in writing about all the wonderful people I met at BlogHer. Partly, because I've been consumed with getting a new Iphone (I got one!)and with fixing my damn email problems. And partly because I don't want to add to the already annoyingly voluminous posts on the same subject.

BUT...
(sorry non-BlogHers)

I MUST give a shout-out to some lovely ladies who helped make my first BlogHer an incredible experience.

I met so many (I have over 100 business cards to prove it) so I will only mention some of the gals I hung out with:


A MOM TWO BOYS (I love you. I saved your drunk-dialed phone message on my phone cause it was just so DAMN SWEET). We must get together to drink wine - lots and lots of wine. You are such a cutie-pie even if you are 17 years younger (ouch!)

HEADLESS MOM - You are a blast and I totally dug your "business card". Too bad the puppy got a hold of it. Loved hanging out with you, wish I could have done it more, damn Iphone...

MOMMY BITS - What can I say, you and I are a good team - we could part the Red Sea if alcohol was involved. And who else can I thank for posting my Iphone debacle on twitter. I'll be famous forevah!

ANDREA'S SWEET LIFE - You were so much fun to hang with and you seriously have the cutest glasses and the BESTEST hair.

BYJANE - Dahling, it was soooo good to finally meet you. We must get together when you've settled in - BEVERLY HILLS, perhaps????

MOTHERSCRIBE - Babe, you are so nice, not to mention a looker. Not only are you beautiful but you write erotic poetry - a guy's dream! And those fishnets, ooh, those fishnets...

AMY IN OHIO - I have your card and I will DEFINITELY NEVER forget you. You are a ton o' fun.

NO WATCH ME! - Glad I spent the evening with you. You trusted me to choose your lip gloss. That means SO MUCH to me.

SAVVYAUNTIE - a long lost sister of the East Coast (including Canada) kind. Who else would I let share my room?

Next year in Jerusalem at BlogHer (or sooner in Vegas - huh, huh?)



*photo stolen from courtesy of A Mom Two Boys' flicker stream. (I would have uploaded more but my computer didn't cooperate)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way To BlogHer...well, not really...

I told no one about this while I was there because I was still licking my wounds, but here, in the "anonymity" of the internet, I'm ready to share. Believe me, those of you who were feeling sorry for yourselves for not attending BlogHer, you can take a small consolation in knowing that you did NOT want to be in my shoes that day.

Thursday, July 17. A day I'd looked forward to for months. A day that was to be the beginning of my "wild, non-mommy extravaganza".

It all started well. The cab picked me up on time. There was no traffic to the airport. I even had a coupon. The driver dropped me off at the VirginAmerica terminal, I tipped him and he was gone. I rolled my bags inside and looked for the check-in counters.

They were dark.
Black.
Not an employee in the entire terminal.
It was eerie.
Disconcerting.

A maintenance employee informed me that I was dropped at VirginATLANTIC terminal, not VirginAMERICA. VirginAMERICA was four terminals down and a terminally late shuttle ride away.

When I finally boarded the plane, I was rushed, harried, and in a sweat. I stopped to take my seat in Row 5 but on it lay some Seventh Day Adventist literature and a large, take out cup of Diet Coke wedged into the netting of the seat pocket. I asked the woman sitting in the middle if the items were hers.

"No," she said.
"Do you know whose they are?" I pushed.
"No," she turned back to her texting.

I picked up the soda and the reading material and put them in the aisle seat and pocket across from me. In my state, all I wanted to do was sit down and settle in. I wanted it to be someone else's problem.

Minutes later it was. While getting into her seat, a woman knocked into the Diet Coke, spilling the contents onto her and the floor by her feet. She called the flight attendant who quickly came to her aide.

I turned to the women next to me and grimaced, "I feel bad," I said.

I wanted to confess to someone, to appease my guilt. I wanted to explain to her that since she, WHO WAS ALREADY SITTING THERE, didn't know whose stuff it was, I assumed that the airline staff had neglected to pick up the trash. (I usually fly American and for them this would not have been unusual). In hindsight, I should have called an attendant to take the stuff away. (WTF good is hindsight anyway if it always comes after the fact?!)

Irritated at my interruption, the woman put down her cell phone and said, "Excuuuse me?" with such venom and attitude that I thought I must have cut in on some amazingly, hot SMS sex.

"Forget it," I said waving her back to her virtual orgasm. (The bitch actually scared me!)

So there I sat with a possessed Linda Blair on one side and a poor, unfortunate, coke-sodden soul on the other when a man said,

"You're in my seat."
I turned around to find a tall, blond hovering over me.
"No, I'm not," showing him my boarding pass. "I'm in 5F."
"5F is the window, you're in 5C"

He pointed to the diagram above my head. As I was processing that I was indeed in the wrong seat he started yelling, "Where's my Diet Coke? Where's my stuff? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY STUFF?"

"It's over there," I answered back, my eyes downcast as I pointed to the wet and sticky woman across the aisle.

I squeezed past Satan with my carry-on, slinked into my window seat, closed my eyes, and tried to block out the world.

I felt like a high school outcast. As if everyone was talking ABOUT me but no one was talking TO me. I ran through the scenario in my head. I used my best take-aways from therapy (and yoga) to consider how to make things right. I didn't care about the hot-tempered man, or the demonic sex fiend, just about the poor woman who now thought badly of me for not confessing to the crime.

I needed to apologize. I had no idea how she would react, I knew it would be embarrassing, but I believed, at the very least, I would earn some good karma with the offer of some genuine mea culpa.

After landing, the tall man searched for his carry-on in the overhead bin.

"Did you move my luggage, too?" he yelled despite the fact I was within sniffing distance of his body odor.

I quietly but definitively replied, "I did not TOUCH your luggage."

The coke-drenched woman pointed the man to his suitcase in the opposite bin.

I sought her out around the baggage carousel, introduced myself and apologized for my bad behavior. I told her I would have confessed but after the man screamed at me, all I wanted to do was crawl under a rock and hide. She was very nice about the whole scenario and it was a good thing because she is a BLOGHER EDITOR.

Can I pick 'em or can I pick 'em?

We shared a cab to the hotel and all became right with the world.

Chalk one up for mid-life wisdom, years of therapy, and a fear of bad karma.