Previous month:
September 2005
Next month:
November 2005

Happy Halloween Folks!

It was beautiful.  We had the pumpkins carvedDsc00715 and the fog machine up, fun lighting (not too scary for the little ones), and plenty of candy.  Then me and the kid donned our outfits and cruised the streets, chatting with the neighbors.  Since it's a pretty small neighborhood (only four streets) we really only get the neighbor kids, about 30-40 max.  But we're lucky to live in a place where people get into the holiday spirit and like to decorate, so it's always fun even if we don't get that many kids.   

Hope everyone enjoyed the night!    


A Small Rant Regarding Tutus

You know, just because someone puts on a tutu or a crazy wig does not mean they are good at entertaining children.  Seriously.  And… I think what offends me most… not only are they not very good at entertaining children (I swear to god some of these people are failed rock bands thinly disguising their previously original, though crappy, rock songs as “children’s songs” in an attempt to “make it”.  Well hey, I’m gonna tell you, just because you put the word “dream” in the lyrics doesn’t make it especially child-centric, OK?) …but they’re really BAD dressers as well!  I understand how a tutu can be seen as funny and frolic-y and childlike, but that doesn’t mean you just throw it on over any old shit you pulled out of your closet.  Some of these people look like they’re still doing the metal/grunge look, only they’ve added one item in a primary color and a tutu.  Or there are those who just throw several items in primary/vibrant colors together, all mishmash.  Again like they pulled crap randomly from their closet, looked at the pile on the floor, said, “Hey, that looks bright” and put it on.  Shirt, pants, stupid wig, two different colored socks, tutu.  I don’t have anything against people dressing “uniquely” (trust me, I’ve put some unique outfits together in my time) and I don’t think everything has to match but, christ on wheels people, have you ever heard of a color palette?!  Punky Brewster is no longer around for a reason (and I still think she put shit together better than these people).  If you want to pick a look, if you want to wear a costume, pick out a costume… but stop offending those of us with some color-coordinating sensibilities, OK?  Kids have eyes too!               - the weirdgirl, an offended viewer

P.S. That little bee girl from the Blind Melon video did a tutu beautifully. Take a clue.


I haven’t tried on any of the skirts I own in months.  Let’s just say the last time I tried this experiment it was a dismal failure.  In 20-20 hindsight, it was probably a little too soon after having the kid (you moms out there know what I’m talking about – jiggle tummy... and jiggle everything else, too).  But… I had started to lose a little weight, at the time I needed a skirt ensemble for going out to dinner, and I was hopelessly, sadly optimistic about the entire venture.  I thought that because some of my skirts were on the large size pre-pregnancy I might be able to still get into them.  Boy, was I wrong.

However, today is a new day and another new weight and I’m feeling up for another dive into the old closet.  With the coming of fall I’ve been feeling very collegiate goth lately –  you know, black tights, chunky sweaters, boots – and I’ve got a little black plaid number in there somewhere that would just do the trick.  I’m also 34, you know.  And I KNOW the What Not To Wear rule, “no miniskirts after 35”.  That only gives me a year to cram in all my miniskirt-wearing adventures.  And yes, you can have adventures in miniskirts, usually proceeded by one-too-many drinks.  (Stacy and Clinton would probably frown on the thigh-high stockings as well.  I guess I should retire those.)

SO!  If this next closet-dive turns out fortuitously, here are the questions for which I am in dire need of answers… If I don’t look 35, can I still get away with wearing miniskirts?  (I’m just trying to extend the adven… ahem, lifetime of the skirts, you see.)  And, if I do wear a miniskirt while pushing my stroller down the street, will that only make me look like a hoochie mom? 

(Classy MILF is OK, however.  I trust you all understand the distinction.)    

         - the weirdgirl


This Friday night I am going out to a fancy-schmancy restaurant.  One that is well-known and gets kick-ass reviews.  One that I have to dress up for, without a burp rag or formula stain in site.  One that will, hopefully, serve things I have never tasted previously.  I love fancy-schmancy restaurants.  Me and Keen Dad are what are known as “foodies”.  Or actually, he’s probably the foodie ‘cause he truly knows how to cook and what goes in everything and all the techniques.  Whereas I just like to eat… and I always mangle the French words and turn all the Italian words into Spanish (Keen gets really exasperated when I do this) and so on.  So maybe I’m more of a foodie groupie.  Anyways, let’s just say we have epicurean tastes.  Some people will spend their money on electronic gadgets or designer coats.  We spend our money, joyfully, on food.  (On any given day you can open our fridge and find at least one packet of prosciutto and several types of cheese among other goodies.  Keen Dad can whip out an anti-pasta plate at a moments notice.  Really.  I’ve seen him do it.)

(Can you believe that Word spell check does not recognize the word prosciutto?  WTF?)

I was thinking about this as I scarfed down a lasagna Keen’s grandfather had dropped off for us. (They’re Italian. They do things like drop off food unexpectedly.)  It was very nice of him to think of us in conjunction with lasagna, however, he is also getting on in years.  This means a very sweet tomato sauce because he can’t taste it unless he adds a ton of sugar.  Tomato sauce with sugar.  This would be absolutely unheard of in the house I grew up in.  I have crazy hippie parents who were into “natural” foods and flavors, such as tomato sauce that tasted like tomatoes, even if those tomatoes were at the end of the season and a bit bitter, or strawberries fresh from the organic garden with the added protein of bugs as you crunched into them.  They also loved experimenting with foodstuffs and made everything from scratch.  (This included the strawberry tofu ice cream experiment which they made with hard tofu, not the soft stuff, so it had lumps.  They couldn’t understand why us kids, who were SO EXCITED when they carted the ice cream maker home from the latest garage sale, wouldn’t eat the strawberry tofrutti they cooked up.)  Not that every experiment was bad.  Some were fabulous.  My parents had a huge garden and raised their own chickens (for eggs), and to this day I grow heirloom tomatoes because you just can’t eat the cardboard tasting stuff after being raised on homegrown food.  Did I mention this was all in the suburbs?

Coincidentally, now that my parents are older, even though they still love home-grown veggies they’re not so strict on the natural foods anymore.  My mom often comes over for Chef Boyardee for lunch.  Next they’ll be putting sugar in the tomato sauce.

Anyway. That was very roundabout and meandering. What it means is: even though I do not cook, I have a very great appreciation for food.  The above examples – sweet lasagna, hard tofrutti – are not-so-fine dining.  They’ll do.  I don’t mind eating canned and easy to prepare foods on a day-to-day basis.  As I said before, I don’t cook and beggars can’t be choosers.  However, when it comes time to go out, especially considering we don’t get out nearly as often as we used to (like practically never), then I want fine dining.  Layered flavors, presentation, expensive ingredients.  Ooh, and wine pairings!  My mouth is watering just thinking about it! (I often catch myself doing the redheaded chick version of Homer Simpson’s drooling.  Mmmm….classy.)  The menu is California Fusion, but I hope there is a lot of French influence.  (I fucking love French food.  It blows my mind.) 

We used to go out to these fine dining experiences a lot more often.  But we have the kid now and it’s hard to leave him just to go to dinner when we could be having strained peaches with him.  Honestly, I really do enjoy watching him eat.  (And no one delivers in our neck of the woods.  Not that these type of restaurants would deliver anyway.)  One of my mom wishes is that Chance turns out to be an adventurous eater.  Or at least, maybe just not a picky one.  I really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will like nuanced flavors and new foods and behave like such a little gentleman that of course we could take him to a fancy-schmancy restaurant if we wanted to as he tries everything with gusto.  I know better (I mean, I didn’t even like pizza when I was a kid).  But I can dream, can’t I?         

Long and rambling story short, I am really looking forward to this night out.  Even though it’s hard to leave the kid at home, the lure of really great food is just too powerful to resist.  It’s been too long.                - the weirdgirl

Scary Spam

Does anyone else get spam that says nothing?  I mean, no subject line, no text, no anything, just a “from” address and that’s it?  They’re very mysterious sorts of spam... and a little ominous.  It’s kind of like getting an anonymous, cryptic postcard in the mail.  My blocking controls don't seem to work on them either.  Maybe they are vehicles for the government to spy on us.  Maybe they’re portals to a spam-controlled universe.  I don’t know.  But they kind of freak me out.  I’m almost even superstitious about deleting them.  Except for that whole portal thing… just in case.         - wg

A Treatise Concerning the Nature of “With It”

I’ve been seeing a lot of hullabaloo over the stroller controversy, i.e. which ones are “in”, which are safest, most versatile, which is a statement and what that statement means, etc. and the debates that rage about each and every one of these points.  My reaction to these debates just go to prove how much of a nerd I really am.  I just… don’t… care.  I’m not “with it” concerning strollers and I have no plans to become “with it” in the future.  I don’t even have an opinion about people spending money on the more (or less) expensive units; it’s your money, blow it on what you want, just don’t run me off the sidewalk with what you bought.  I’m sure there are people out there who will take my disinterest in the debate as a sign that I’m a bad, “uninvolved” mom.  Well, here’s more of a shocker… this is a debate I wasn’t even aware existed until I started trolling the parental blogs.  I’m not surprised it exists, and I’m not disparaging anyone who is participating in the debate... it’s just not the kind of thing I get or follow.  Sort of like celebrity marriages and going-ons.  I don’t follow any of those either and I really can’t discuss them at any length at all.  I do follow fashion a bit, because I really like clothes and shoes.  However, if the newest trends in fashion don’t look fucking fabulous on my body personally, I aint buying ‘em.  I definitely don’t go for the “what everybody is buying” trend just because it’s what everybody is buying, regardless of what label/item/statement is hot at the moment.  I have to like it first.  I’m more interested in styles that look good (in my subjective opinion), are comfortable, and fit my life.  (yes, it’s a whole different kind of vanity) 

Obviously, I am doomed to be hopelessly out of step because I can’t muster the interest to learn what’s cool or not.  I recently asked in the comments section on someone else’s blog if I was a hipster and didn’t know it.  But… after thinking about it, I don’t think I am a hipster.  At heart, I’m pretty sure I’m a nerd.  A bad mommy nerd.

I think I’ll live.           – the weirdgirl

"The distinction between children and adults, while probably useful for some purposes, is at bottom a specious one, I feel. There are only individual egos, crazy for love."
-- Don Barthelme (1931-89), American author

My son is so much fun.  (I haven’t written a gushy post in a while.  Forgive a mom’s need to gush.)  He is at the age where his personality is really starting to show.  Chance is turning out to be quite a character.  It’s the little things that get to me (and I suppose, at this age, all their personality is about the little things anyways).  He sucks in his cheeks when he’s really enjoying something he’s eating and he waggles his fingers.  He looks inordinately pleased when I hand him something that he actually wanted, like the cat’s toy (as compared to the bait and switch toys I’m usually feeding him).  Of all the songs I sing to him his favorite is “A Bicycle Built for Two”.  He’ll throw his arms around mine or Keen Dad’s neck and butt foreheads, or do the open mouth slobber-sprawl “kiss” across our faces.  He seems to really love people, even when he’s being shy.  And he already seems to be developing a sense of humor (OK, maybe I’m reaching for that one a bit – who can really tell yet?); he loves games and quickly recognizes when we’re playing or even just smiles when we do something he finds amusing (which is often). 

This is my favorite part of being a parent – watching him be himself.  Watching him learn is wonderful too, each new discovery and milestone.  But it is in the moments when he is just his silly, little character self that I feel my heart do that swollen, happy, heartbreak thing. 

So here is 20 seconds of my son, Chance.  Download MOV00664.MPG

- just another mom crazy for love

Degrees of Seven

I was half-pinged for this meme by Dutch (though he DID officially end it, wise gypsy man) and decided to pick it up because it’s interesting to think some of these things through.  I mean, how often do we think about what we can’t do or really set down on paper some goals to do before we die?  And the “things we say most often”?  That one was tough, ‘cause I’m not really listening to the shit coming out of mouth, you know what I’m saying?

Anyway.  Anybody I pinged at the end please feel free to play or not, at your discretion (but I would love to hear what you have to say). 

7 Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

  1. write and publish a book (or several) – (just like every other blogger; why don’t we set up a writer’s group so we’ll all actually start?)
  2. travel a lot more
  3. learn to weld
  4. learn to play drums
  5. go on an archaeological dig
  6. take my son hiking on the secret trails in Yosemite 
  7. start dancing again

7 Things I Cannot Do:

  1. cook
  2. not be a smartass
  3. ski
  4. get excited about cleaning the bathroom no matter what new gadget they have
  5. give up on friends (even when they might deserve it)
  6. understand why the line, “Let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks just yet,” doesn’t translate to an office setting ( I could have used it SO many times!)
  7. put up with incompetent people in the workplace (I have some issues; it’s why I freelance)

7 Things That Attract Me to the Opposite Sex:

  1. intelligence (such a turn on!)
  2. confidence
  3. ambition/drive
  4. sense of humor
  5. ability to have fun (doesn’t take himself too seriously)
  6. good with kids/animals
  7. well-dressed (not all the time, but looking great every once in a while is very, very sexy… now you just sit there and look pretty)

7 Things I Say Most Often:

  1. Come here, you
  2. What are we doing for dinner?
  3. meow (this is a code word in our household)
  4. I’m sorry
  5. Umm…
  6. damnit!
  7. What’cha doin’ (insert baby or cat name here)?

7 Celebrity Crushes:

  1. Harrison Ford
  2. George Clooney
  3. Neil Gaiman
  4. Edward Norton
  5. Charlize Theron (she is such a strong chick!)
  6. The Rock – yum
  7. punk boys… so cute!

7 People I Want To Do This (Because I Want to See What They Say):

  1. Sandriux
  2. Finding Zen
  3. Childbearing Hipster
  4. The Phoenix
  5. The Ledge
  6. Chocolate Makes It Better
  7. and… OK, I can’t think of anyone else

Alright, I decided to add my own section.  Because I wanted to and because there should be seven categories, shouldn’t there?  If it’s gonna be all about sevens.  I mean, that’s just basic mythos magic. So here you go.

7 Things I’m Thankful for:

  1. getting to watch my son everyday grow into a person of his own
  2. my babe, Keen Dad
  3. growing older (and maybe a little wiser)
  4. how great the kitty cats are doing with the baby
  5. school
  6. having a plethora of great music and books in the world
  7. the best friends a girl could have

When You’re Too Tired You Make No Sense

I’ve decided to not watch the news for awhile.  I need a break.  This is due, in part, to a truly horrifying local event, which if it hasn’t hit national news yet I’m sure it will soon.

I’ve been doing a lot of putzing around tonight.  (Because, you know, I had work to do. Sometimes you just gotta do that.) Then the baby woke up and I made the mistake of picking him up because I thought he was having a nightmare (not just wanting to play).  He was much more interested in Cartoon Network than cuddles.  Oh, lessons in parenting!  Now I’m so tired I can barely see.

Anyway, this post will contain some random cartoon observations.

I really like Danny Phantom.  I think Danny and Kim Possible should hook-up and have little superhero/ghost babies.  Is that wrong?

Sometimes the Family Guy is just too weird, even for me.  (And yet, Fooly Cooly I have no problem with.)  How is it that this gets picked up again by Fox, but Futurama didn’t?   

However… all hail Seth Green!

The new Boondocks cartoon is coming to Adult Swim. Yay!  That’s the comic I read last every day in the paper… it’s my “dessert”.

Oh yeah, and American Dad?  It’s just not funny.  There, I said it.

sigh.  I think I hear the kiddo finally drifting off.  At least, if tonight’s activity was any indication, me and the kid will have something in common.             – the weirdgirl

P.S. Forgive me for not linking all of the references.  I’m just too tired.  If you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, just ask.  I’ll fill you in.

Quiz Time

Not that I really think anyone can sum up another entire person by way of five questions, but this is kind of fun (plus, I decided it was time for a picture).  I tried finding a Sesame Street quiz (just because I'm ALL ABOUT Sesame Street right now.  My heart grew fonder being so many years away!) and there were a few but one had some serious typos (!), one had no submit button (hello?), and one was, frankly, just kind of dumb.  (Serves me right for thinking these were actually designed by someone with a psych degree and a working knowledge of color theory, Meyers-Briggs, and other psych-related stuff, etc. etc. instead of just random people on the net making up their own quizzes. I am so naive.)  On another note, not that I did it with this one, but sometimes I totally cheat  on these by going back and putting in new answers just to see what comes up.  My inquiring mind just wants to know.  Ooh, I wonder if there's a monster quiz?

OK, I did do it with this one too, but it still came up Woodstock.             - the weirdgirl

I am Woodstock! Woodstock

Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Oh, wait... this one is fun. What kind of a witch are you?  I'm just getting in the Halloween mood!  (And the fact that the results for both were flattering have nothing to do with it!)        - wg

Fire Witch
You are a fiery witch. Your charisma and sensual
beauty draw many to you. You are creative and
full of vitality and inspiration. Never one to
blend in, you're appearance is bold, bright fiery :) You draw your power from
fire and may be a bit of a pyro.. for pretty
sented candles at least.

What kind of 'witch' are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I Still Like Action Movies, but…

We watched the movie The Hostage over the weekend.  Didn’t care for it much.  It was awfully violent, in a gratuitous sort of way, and the characters were all rather screwed up individuals.  It’s hard to root for the "good guys" when you really don’t like anyone on the screen (except, of course, for the innocent children – like that doesn’t pull the parental heartstrings).  But mainly it was the violence that got to me.  Usually violence in movies doesn’t bother me too much, so I had to think about why this one was turning me off.

I realized that I require a certain feature for violence in movies or else it becomes unpalatable, to say the least, (and once it hits that it’s no longer entertainment for me).  I need my violence completely over the top.  I need it so ridiculous that there is a very distinct severance from reality.  I’m OK with the Kill Bill movies and Batman Beginnings and The Scorpion King (it was on again last night!).  Anything that is violent where there’s a ton of fake blood squirting everywhere, or you have people dying left and right en masse but there’s no blood, just sound effects, and of course anything with superheroes or scifi-ish – I’m OK with those.  THEY’RE NOT REAL.  And (I would hope) no one can mistake them for being real. 

But when a movie’s violence is too realistic?  Ugh, I can’t take it.  Especially in a film with fucked up kids holding other kids hostage (and then another whole family set being held hostage someplace else).  I know it’s supposed to get the audience’s hearts pounding and all of us riveted with suspense.  We’re all supposed to be invested in the characters because of projected worries for our own families.  But really, it was just TOO MUCH!  I don’t want to see kids hurting themselves and each other.  I just don’t.  I watch movies for entertainment and escapism.  When too many internal fears are being realized on the screen (even if those fears aren’t very likely to ever happen) it just kind of fucks up the escapism part.  I already watch the news every night.  I know the world can be a bad and fucked up place.  Why do I need to pay someone else to freak me out even more?

I thought maybe this was just the mom in me… (Isn’t there a switch that turns on or something once you have a kid?  You know, the switch that makes you stop liking shoot-‘em-up video games, and makes you disapprove of certain song lyrics and questionable TV programming.  Hasn’t that turned on yet?)  I always had a problem with hurt kids (or animals) in movies even before I had my son.  But Keen Dad didn’t like it either for basically the same reasons. 

It almost seems like a cheap tactic for the movie producers… play on the fears of real parents everywhere so we can push through with a script that probably could do with some work.  It’s along the same lines of throwing in extra explosions because you don’t have enough dialogue and need filler.  (Oh yeah, and there was also this cheesy, symbolic Mary and Jesus shot that came out of left field and just did not work. I just had to mention that.)

Anyways, I’ll just have to go watch a GOOD action flick now to make up for it.  One that won’t make me clutch my child and quiver under the bed.                – the weirdgirl

Babyproof Power Strip Covers

Would anyone happen to know where I could find a power strip cover or cable organizing box for a double wide power strip/surge stopper?  Right now I'm using a shoe box that I cut holes in to.  I can't believe they don't have something like this... wouldn't it be an obvious need?  If anyone could throw me a clue where to look (I've already scoped out Radio Shack, Harriet Carter, the Container Store, Solutions, and various baby safety sites) I will love you forever.  This is my plea to all of the more experienced parents out there.         

And if there aren't any at all... well... FINE! Stupid consumer market. Be that way!  Maybe I'll just INVENT IT and make a ton of money saving babies (and cats) everywhere from chewing on electrical cords!!  How is it that you can buy a cheesy christmas-tree-themed cover for your single wide power strip but they don't have options for various power strip sizes to babyproof your house?!  Argh!      

Sorry... I'm frustrated... my childproofing/shopping venture is being thwarted, is all.  We already can't find a baby gate that fits our archway (seven feet) without mounting brackets.  (But that's a whole 'nother bitchfest.)          - wg

Things I’m Addicted to Now That I’ve Squirted a Kid

  1. Nightlights all over the house – how did I live without these before?
  2. Tivo – duh, it should be mentioned in baby manuals
  3. convenience food – can it be microwaved? then I love you (except for breakfast, no junk at breakfast only healthy stuff, otherwise it just fucks me up all day)
  4. Play With Me Sesame
  5. the TV channel Noggin in the morning (see number 4)
  6. hula hoop – you may laugh but my waist has come back
  7. cloth diapers used as burp rags – I often catch myself wearing them as an accessory in public; the trend should catch on any day now
  8. the feedings/diapers journal – this one is not so cool but I can’t seem to stop
  9. “quiet time” (even if it means I go without sleep to get it)
  10. Dreft detergent – that stuff works on everything, no more drycleaning!
  11. reading other peoples’ blogs
  12. camera – I am a walking stereotype
  13. my nemesis: damn chocolate-covered pretzels! – fucking things are like chocolate cocaine… oh wait, I was addicted to those before                 - the weirdgirl

CSI: Butt Explosion Unit

I answer a knock at my door to find…

Hello, ma’am.  I’m Detective McScoop and this is Officer Nappy. We’d like to ask you a few questions.

Me:  Of course! Is…is there anything wrong?

Detective:  We’ll get to that in a minute ma’am. (He consults a notebook.)  You have a son named Chance, is that right?

Me:  Yes.  He’s not here right now but…

Detective:  And did he recently start on solid food? 

Me:  Why, yes.  He’s been on solid food for a few weeks now.  What is this about?

Detective:  Bear with us, ma’am.  Does your son also take a nap from 1:00 to 3:00 pm? 

Me:  Well, yes.  Is he alright?!

The detective and policeman exchange significant looks.

Officer:  We have reason to believe your son may have been involved in a recent butt explosion. 

Me:  What?! What do you mean?

Detective:  There have been a rash of incidences involving hit and run poopings.  Victims have been hit tragically, and we believe intentionally, with butt explosions.  Usually after the perpetrator has consumed copious amounts of fruit.  The person responsible has eluded us so far. 

Me:  You can’t be serious!

Detective:  I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’ve been tracking the activities of your son for a quite a while.  We’d like you to take a look at this. (He tosses a photo at me.)

Detective:  You can tell by the splatter pattern that the pooper entered in through this door here and faced off with the victim at a right angle.  The victim had his back to the door when he was hit. 

Me:  Oh, my god!  (I turn away from the picture, gagging.)  My son couldn’t have done this!  This is preposterous!

Detective: We also found a bee rattle on the premises.  I believe that is one of your son’s favorite toys.

Officer:  They’ve been found at every crime scene, ma’am. Like a calling card.

Me:  That’s still not any proof!  Any number of potential poopers could have that rattle!  It’s a link-a-doos toy!

Detective:  There’s also a commonality among the victims… they’re all parents that belong to your son’s playgroup… parents who buy Luvs.  Your son is a Huggies man, isn’t that right?   

Me:  That doesn’t mean anything!  What about witnesses?

Detective:  So far the victims have either been hit from behind or so blinded with poop that they’ve been unable to identify their assailant.

Me:  How do you even know it’s the same pooper?  There could be any number of babies committing these assaults.  It could be some sort of gang!

Officer:  Oh, we know it’s the same baby ma’am.  The times of the incidences, the color and consistency, the range of the butt explosion all point to one perpetrator.

Detective:  Plus, the calling card “rattle” and choice of victims are all your son’s MO.  We currently have forensics working on a DNA sample to be sure.

Me (sobbing, I cover my face with my hands):  Enough enough!  What will happen if it’s him?

Detective:  This isn’t a crime, ma’am, but it’s a nuisance. We’ll get him into a poop management group and some counseling.  He’s made quite a mess.   

Me (wailing):  He gets it from his father!

Detective: I’m sure he does, ma’am.  Can you tell us where he is?  Ma’am, it will only be harder if you’re hiding him. We’re here to help.

Me: No, I swear!  Last I knew he was with his grandma! 

Detective:  Well if he contacts you, you let us know. We’ll get to the bottom of this.  Thanks for your time, ma’am.