Check Out RealityRoadKill

The hilariousness behind Baby on Bored and I decided to combine all of our TV talk into one blog where we'll discuss various tv shows and related topics such as where I should move now that America voted Chuck Wicks off Dancing With the Stars.  I'll still be doing nearly daily posts here too. So continue to visit all the sites, people. I mean, what do you have a job or kids or a life or something???

More Shark Jumping

I really just wanted an excuse to post another pic I found of The Fonz in shorts. Plus I've never gotten so many comments -- it was thrilling in an opiate high kind of way. But now I have to list a few more things I suppose...

The term "baby daddy":  Since when have legitimate news organizations been using this term in their headlines?  Can you be married and have a baby daddy or is this just for non-marrieds?  If the latter, I find that discriminatory and would like to ask the ACLU to look into it.

Collagen-Injected Lips:  Other than Lisa Rinna, have we all learned that inflating your lips with copious amounts of collagen doesn't render us looking like Angelina Jolie but rather a not-very-attractive fish, hence the term "trout pout?"  Good.  Who wants to tell Lisa?

Denise Richards: From Bond Girl to Hollywood Wife to Rock Star Girlfriend/Husband Stealer to Reality Star Flop to Reality Star Cast-Off, she's not only jumped the shark but maybe two whales, an octopus and a school of scorpions ... She managed to plummet from A list to D list faster than Pam Anderson changes implant sizes.  Go. A. Way.  Please.  My guess is she turns up next on I'm a Celebrity Get Me Outta Here in Costa Rica only because disgraced Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich couldn't get permission to leave the country. 

Mel Gibson:  Listen, sugar tits, you're not aging well, your wife left you and you have substance abuse issues.  And your new girlfriend looks like Angelina Jolie if Angelina Jolie was hit upside the head with a two-by-four.  

Brad Pitt: And speaking of Angie, ya know what?  Brad Pitt has peaked.  I don't like the beret. I don't like the random facial hair. I don't like the gaggle of kids whose names I'm beginning to no longer keep straight.  She hasn't told me this directly, but my guess is Angie is getting bored and trying to decide how to get out without looking like a family-wrecking fickle-hearted tart. Plus, she really should have someone else lined up (hopefully without an affinity for blood like Billy Bob) to help her care for her traveling orphanage.  That can't be fun alone.

People Magazine's Most Beautiful List: I have no problem with Christina Applegate being this year's cover girl.  She's a lovely, likable gal. But Timothy Geithner and "Twinkle Toes" Rahm Emanuel?  I used to live in Washington DC -- most unfortunate looking bunch of people you've ever seen -- so perhaps they are "DC Hot," which isn't saying much, but MOST BEAUTIFUL??? Other people on the list I have a problem with: George Clooney (how original!), Brad Pitt (ditto!) and Christina Aguilera (hideous!). I haven't seen the actual magazine -- and won't until I visit my dentist or hair dresser -- so I reserve the right to further comment.

Dancing With the Stars:  Chuck Wicks is gone.  Need I say more?  

The United States of America:  Yes, I need say more. America voted Chuck Wicks off DWTS. Clearly the end of our country as we know it. Speaking of which, Julianne Hough made the People Most Beautiful list. Did Chuck?  If so, I may take it off my shark list.

If It's Good Enough for Suri Cruise ...

My almost 18-month-old twins are still on the bottle.  They have three per day and other than that drink water out of a sippy cup.  When I offer them milk in a sippy, they shake their heads furiously and shout "Bot bot bot!" in unison and point to where I keep the bottles.  I decided I wasn't going to fret and I'd try again in a month or so. Until this conversation:

My mother to my sister: Are the girls still on the bottle?

My 5-year-old niece interjects:  I HOPE NOT!  Mom, are we going to do that to our new baby?

So, you see, when a five-year-old is horrified that her cousins are still on the bottle and worried her mother will treat their new baby as neglectfully, perhaps it's time to take a stance. We are going there to visit in a couple of weeks and I feel the need to prove to my niece that I am an adequate mother who does not keep babies on the bottle well past the pediatrician's recommended time frame.  Either that or I plan on bringing a bunch of tabloid pictures of Suri Cruise and explain that it is very chic to be on the bottle at this age and she should be so lucky if her mother treats their new baby accordingly.

Suri, as evidenced in this photo, was two years old and still drinking a bottle. That gives me a good six months. And I'm assuming the Cruise's can hire an Executive Nanny Solely in Charge of Getting Suri Off the Bottle. So what are we commoners to do?  (At least I don't let them go out in public with it. Sniff!)

Yes, I've tried a few different types of sippy cups. They are not fooled into thinking they are some kind of new-fangled bottle.  "Bot bot bot ... WAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"  (Picture LuLu and Moxley's mom cowering in a corner with hands over her ears reaching for Xanax and filling baby bottles feverishly with warm milk.) My tolerance for screaming and whining is somewhat lower than the average person.  Heeeellllllppppp!  

The Terrorists Have Won

In what kind of world do we with live where Chuck Wicks is voted off (America, you disgust me!) of Dancing With the Stars?  I immediately turned and punched my husband. I blame him for voting for Ty Murray after he swore Chuck was safe so voting for him was a wasted vote. Another step in my husband's sinister plot to get me to divorce him?  Well, if it comes to light Ty won by only ONE vote, divorce he shall get!  (Yes, it was Chuck and Melissa up last on the chopping block but as REPEATEDLY reminded by the tanorexic Samantha, they were named "in no particular order" so my guess is the bottom two were actually Chuck and Ty.) 

So speaking of Samantha, at one point she was interviewing L'il Kim and her arms were just as dark. Sam Baby, turn off the tanning spray before your race is indeterminable.  So before this dreadful turn of events, I could pretty much tolerate all of the remaining stars. Now I hate them all and will find every Monday and Tuesday nights excruciatingly painful. Alas, I have a blog audience (all 10 of you including my mother and Anonymous)  counting on me to continue this journey we all started together.  But let me just say of the remaining contestants, whom I now despise:

• L'il Kim is a convicted felon. With tinted blue contact lenses and an unfortunate boob job. 
• Gilles Marini is FRENCH. That's almost as bad as being a convicted felon.  And how unpatriotic of America to keep him and boot American-as-apple-pie Chuck Wicks.  Enculez vous!  (I think that mean f$%# you in French.  The polite form as opposed to "Encule tu!" the familiar form. I've never met Gilles so might as well be polite about it...)
• Shawn Johnson: I know she's an Olympic gold medalist or whatever but I find her as graceful as a Teletubby.  The one that carries the purse.  And would the make-up people please stop with the blue eye shadow that makes her look like a broken housewife pushing 50?
• Melissa Rycroft: I know she can dance. But when America sides with a woman who was in love with the worst Bachelor in its 14-year-history (well, except maybe that Andy Baldwin Officer and a Gentleman loser) instead of cutey Chuck Wicks, the jilted sympathy card has expired.
• Ty Murray: I want to say something mean. I really do. But I even find his teeth endearing now.  The man endured the humiliation of a spray tan machine on national television and I can't help but like him.  Please Professional Cowboy Rodeo Association members, help me keep him alive now that Chuck is gone!

So, as promised, I am moving from this once great country that has fallen so far that it has no regard for beauty.  Look at those two above in all their glory!  Who doesn't want to look at them every week? You, America, you.  So please vote on where I should move:

• A. New Zealand (I plan to be one of those annoying people who live somewhere a few months and pick up the local dialect like they haven't spoken with the same accent for 40 years and it's suddenly replaced in only a few days.)  I will hunt down Murray from Flight of the Concords as I have a weird crush on him and want to mess up his hair.  Present!
• B. Mexico (I think this swine flu scare is some kind of plot not to share tequila with Americans.)
• C. France (I plan to terrorize the French citizens for voting internationally to save that Gilles freak. Yes, let's blame the French!  And my husband.)  Plus, bonus, I can say f#$% you in French.

I Think My Husband Wants a Divorce

What else can explain this statement:  "Doesn't Chuck Wicks kind of look like Bob Guiney?" WWWHHHHHAATTTTTT???? Good thing we have TIVO and could hit pause during Dancing With the Stars last night because this conversation couldn't wait until commercial break.  So, now, whenever I fantasize about Chuck Wicks, Bob Guiney's big fat head is going to pop into my brain. Maybe my husband is smarter than I give him credit for... The other possible explanations for this statement:

• He's suffering early dementia
• He's going prematurely blind
• He simply has bad taste

He married me so let's rule out the third option, shall we?  I guess of the remaining two, I'd prefer he be going blind.  That way he won't see all the clothes I will buy when he reaches full blind status and he won't know our home has been foreclosed and that we've moved in with my parents.  (I will tell him he's hearing things when my parents are squawking and hopefully he won't be one of those ambitious blind people who memorize how many steps it is to the bathroom and such.)

Of course, this may be the first step in his forcing me to divorce him.  If tonight he says something equally ridiculous like Daniel Craig looks like Steve Wozniak I'll know for sure. You know how when you're dating and a guy wants to break up with you but doesn't have the balls so he forces you to do it by treating you like crap?  Maybe that's what he's up to.  He's playing with the master, however, so I hope he knows what he's getting into.

Anyway, so after I pulled up about 200 pictures of Chuck Wicks and Bob Guiney and forced him to admit they weren't even the same species let alone look similar, we decided we had to vote for Ty Murray last night because he's so nice and I agreed only because I figured Chuck was safe.  But then I logged onto abc.com and voted for Chuck instead.  Honesty in marriage is over-rated.  So I'm banking on the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association coming in strong for Ty. Yes, there is such a thing.

Melissa was injured last night so she didn't perform. I was slightly disappointed when I found out it was a bruised rib caused during practice and Molly didn't drive 800 miles wearing a diaper armed with rope and duct tape like that astronaut lady.  Oh well. So the results are tonight. I hope Ty doesn't get the boot (Get it? Baahahahahahahahaha!) but sadly he might.  

I wish in the most shocking rose ceremony ever (I realize I'm getting my reality shows confused) they banish that Samantha host instead of one of the dancers.  Good tv, people. That's what I'm talkin' about.

Things That Have Jumped the Shark

I realize the term "jumped the shark" has itself "jumped the shark" but anything that invokes images of Fonzie on water skis in his leather jacket still works for me.  So here are some things I think have jumped the shark.  (This means has passed their peak, are no longer relevant, they suck.)  

Nate Berkus: I know he's cute. Why do all the hetero women feel the need to repeatedly point this out?  HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE CUTE. HE'LL NEVER THINK YOU'RE CUTE. HE PLAYS FOR THE OTHER TEAM. GET OVER IT. Cuteness aside, he bores me senseless.  I mean, survive one tsunami and you're forever in with Oprah?  Sheesh.  I guess the guy can decorate but so can five million other people for crying out loud.  BTW, he's on today's Oprah which is why I'm boycotting.  How many times can one man appear on Opes?  

Dr. Oz:  To answer my last question, about a billion.  So tomorrow Dr. Oz is on Opes to talk about that flesh-eating disease which we all lie awake each night thinking about.  Can you imagine what he'll bring for show-and-tell? Good times. I won't be tuning in until Wednesday when Opes talks to a bunch of hookers from the Bunny Ranch. Yowzer.

Dooce.com: Am I the only person who doesn't get this?  Are bodily functions that humorous and fascinating that they deserve their own archive category?  I know the woman checked herself into a psych ward -- and that's somewhat entertaining -- but besides that I don't get it. I, by the way, would LOVE to go to a psych ward for a brief spell. It sounds relaxing and I bet they dispense cool meds I've never even heard of.  Where do I sign up and do they take UnitedHealthcare?

Stephanie Klein's Greek Tragedy: This site has never been funny, but it was fascinating in a voyeuristic sort of way. And then it wasn't.  Watch here where the husband-wife duo discuss going to couples therapy and try to tell me they don't deserve each other and should grow old together so nobody else ever has to date them.  (And yes, I know I have exactly four people who read this blog, including Anonymous who thinks I am a petty person, and the two aforementioned blogs have thousands.  Feel free to point this out but I am aware of that just so you know...)

Having Twins: It was getting to be very run-of-the-mill and then Octomom goes and pulls the eight-at-once card rendering us twin moms a casualty of fertility treatments gone wild.  Even having triplets these days is passe'. Big whoop. Nowadays you need to give birth to identical quintuplets to even have a shot at a reality show.  

Holly Montag and Spencer Pratt: The fact that these two morons even had a shark to jump deeply disturbs me. Even more upsetting is they possibly only jumped it in my very limited world view as I can't seem to get away from the coverage of their second wedding or first real wedding or only wedding or whatever the case may be about which I could only care less about what Nate Berkus will be decorating on Oprah today.  By the way, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? I only know Lauren Conrad, whoever the hell she is, doesn't like them.

Showering Every Day: Unless you're single, who are you trying to impress? If you're a SAHM, showering daily says to your husband in no uncertain terms "I have time to shower." Don't give him such satisfaction (of thinking you have time or having a fresh-smelling spouse). I mean, really, what has he done for you lately?  (Speaking of which, Janet Jackson has also jumped the shark but I don't think she deserved her very own paragraph).

Working: With all the bailouts, stimulus checks, extended unemployment benefits and such, working is for suckers.  (Honey, if you're reading this, I'm not talking to you.  Frankly, I don't want you around all day.)  It's gonna take quite a bit of motivation for me to consider going back to work. Like maybe a boss who looks like Daniel Craig or Chuck Wicks.

If you think something has jumped the shark (me, perhaps?) please share. At least then I will know somebody is reading.

More Advice Please?

Since everyone is begging me for more advice (okay, one person and "begging" might be a bit strong) here is another one of my advice columns in an ill-fated, unread, free-to-the-public paper.

Dear L.:

 

I just found out my husband was never officially divorced from his first wife.  He swears he didn’t know that the divorce never went through and that it was a “clerical error involving paperwork.”  I didn’t even know he was married before.  Could his story be true?

 

L. Says:

 

Ha!  If I had a dime for every husband who told me he was still married to his ex because of a “clerical error involving paperwork!”

 

You ask if this story could be true.  Let’s put it this way:

 

Could aliens have come down last night from Planet Fatso and injected lard into my ass which explains why I gained weight or was it more likely the whole pizza I ate after too much boozing?  Anything, I suppose, COULD be true.  But ask yourself what is more likely.

 

I consulted my very influential and highly successful friend who also happens to be a divorce attorney and here’s what she said about your “husband’s” (he's not really your husband as he is fortunately married to someone else) story, and I quote:

 

“BULLSHIT.”

 

Please re-read your question to me.  You didn’t even know that he had been married.  Where I come from one talks about such things prior to getting married.  It usually comes up on a first date somewhere between “I’ll have a chardonnay” and “Do you want to come upstairs?”

 

Consider yourself lucky that your marriage is not official, chalk it up to bad judgment and think of it as fodder for conversation on your next date. (From whom I assume you will require proof of his single status.)

 

Oprah Does Too Care About My Hair

Lulu and Moxley's mom (me) has been very upset since receiving a comment from a disgruntled reader who questioned my smallness of mind for being obsessed with Oprah's hair. It's been keeping me up at night.  Maybe this person is right.  Don't I in fact have bigger things to worry about than Oprah's hair?  Should I instead be writing a blog dedicated to curing global warming or perhaps saving the whales?  Am I just a small petty person?

I guess what concerned me most is this person said Oprah doesn't care about my hair. Could this be true, I thought?  Could Oprah really not care as much about my hair as I do about hers? Did this person have insider knowledge that Oprah doesn't care about my hair or was she just guessing?  I mean, did Oprah directly tell this person "I don't care about Lulu and Moxley's mom's hair."  That would kill me.

After much contemplation, I reject the notion that Oprah doesn't care about my hair. Oprah wants me -- all of us! -- to live our best lives and if we're all having bad hair days we can't possibly live our best lives. So, listen disgruntled person, I will continue to advise the world of my important world views on hair, including Oprah.  Because, if not me, who? Gayle certainly isn't doing it.  There are already people on the global warming and whale-saving fronts. They don't need me. Oprah does.

That said, I have nothing new to say on Oprah's Fridays Live. Hair still straightened (bad).  Ali still an idiot. Mark still horrendous.  Tonya Harding was on yesterday and dare I say I feel bad for her?  I am never making fun of Tonya Harding again.  Not even her hair (it's too long but her bangs weren't severely curled under so I give her points for that).  I decided I like her better than Nancy Kerrigan. They kept showing that clip of Nancy after getting pummeled by Tonya's peeps crying "WHY? WHY? WHY?" Well, because.  You're annoying.

Today on Fridays Live Oprah did tell us that her hair is not a weave.  Okay, good to know. So, I think Oprah needs a visual of how much better her hair looks curly. Above, Opes. You're welcome. 

Advice Anyone?

I once had an advice column.  It was in a free paper that nobody read. The publication went under and the publisher never told me so I kept sending in columns for weeks after it went belly up.  I'm not kidding. The only reason I found out was my friend lived in the town where it was published and finally filled me in.  I've always wanted to be Ask Amy of the Chicago Tribune. If she was remotely entertaining.  Here is one of my advice columns which might explain why the Tribune isn't knocking down my door.

Dear L.:

My boyfriend and I have been going out for four years.  Last month, we attended a family wedding and I haven’t heard from him since.  I have called several times to check in with him but he’s never returned my voice messages.

I just want to know what happened and where things stand.  Please help.

Signed,

Distraught

Dear Distraught:

Well, first and foremost, you need to start saying “My boyfriend and I WENT OUT (past tense) for four years.”  Not to sound like your eighth grade English teacher but “have been going out” implies you, in fact, are still dating, which you aren’t.

It seems to me you are looking for answers and closure.  Why are girls in our society so hell-bent on closure?  For me, someone -- especially a long-term boyfriend -- not returning my call IS closure. 

That said, I can only assume for a fact you know he was not hit by a truck the day after the wedding?  If you know him to still be among the living, I would let it go.  If you simply can’t stand to do that, why not shoot him an e-mail (very non-confrontational) and just say you are curious what happened between the two of you that the relationship ended and wish him well.  He may even be intrigued by your blasé attitude and wonder why you aren’t distraught.  Men would prefer to think you are holed up in your bedroom in pajamas eating pints of Chubby Hubby when they break up with you.

Here’s the thing – I know you want answers but men almost never give the real reasons they broke up with you.  Instead they might say one of the following: 

a)     I just can’t be in a committed relationship right now.

b)    I just need some space.

c)     I love you but I’m not in love with you.

 What this all translates into is this:  I AM SEEING SOMEONE ELSE OR WANT TO SEE SOMEONE ELSE SO DON’T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU IN THE ASS ON THE WAY OUT.

 On a positive note, don’t grieve too long.  A wise woman once said, “Men are like buses.  There’s always another one coming.”

Calculating Your Chances of Getting Married

Back in the day, before I got married and was closing in on my mid-30s, my mother casually asked what the "chances" were that I'd get married someday. Good question, I thought! Rather than give some run-of-the-mill prediction, I set out to SCIENTIFICALLY determine my chances.  Here's what I came up with:

• There are about 3 million people in Chicago.

• Half are female, leaving me with 1.5 million potential husbands.

• About 25 percent of those are in my age range, leaving me with 375,000 potential husbands.

• About 75 percent of those are married or gay, leaving me with 93,750 straight, unmarried, potential husbands.

• Half of them are probably nice, decent men, a quality I don’t tend to seek in partners, leaving me with 46,875 potential husbands.

• I only find myself attracted to Irish Catholic men, who make up about 10 percent of the Chicago population, leaving me with 4687 potential husbands.

• I tend to fancy hard-core drinkers (“alcoholic” has such a negative connotation) of which, luckily, about 90 percent of Irish Catholic men are, leaving me with 4217 potential husbands.

• Let’s lob off about 80 percent who would have a problem (or whose mother would) with my stance on organized religion, leaving me with 843.

• I expect my husband to be in the top 50 percent in good looks, leaving me with 421.

• I’m a bit more particular about intelligence and would really only be attracted to the top 10 percent in intellect, leaving me with 42.

The chances of one of those 42 Irish Catholic, good looking, smart people WANTING TO MARRY ME is about 1 percent, leaving me with 0.42 marriage candidates, not even ONE WHOLE PERSON.  I decided I needed to move to a MUCH bigger city if I had hopes of getting married.  Of course moving seemed like a hassle so I just lowered my standards instead.

By the way, if you're of a certain age and not married and get this question a lot, go ahead and design one of these. People will stop asking if you pull out a calculator and PowerPoint presentation every time.

 

A Big Ass Stud Goes Home

You know those people who back in the day said if Bush won the presidency they were moving out of the country?  But then never followed through? Well, I'm taking it one step further. On a much more important issue. If Chuck Wicks is voted off Dancing With the Stars, I'm moving.  Not sure where. But somewhere people appreciate the beauty of Chuck Wicks.  Maybe I can start my own territory where we do nothing but listen to Chuck Wicks music, wear tv shirts adorned with his face and the only words allowed will be "Chuck" and "Wicks."

So Lawrence Taylor was given the boot last night.  I liked Lawrence and his big diamond stud. Boo, America.  But I'm not leaving the country over it. So we have left:   Ty Murray (Nice guy!), Gilles Marini (Bonjour!) Shawn Johnson (Boring as dirt!), L'il Kim (Dirty!), Melissa Rycroft (BAHHHAHHAAA Jason!) and last but my goodness gracious not least Chuck Wicks (Yummy!).

Okay, so then ABC pulls some crap where pro dance wannabes tried out for slots for next season.  Umm, ABC, audition dancers ON YOUR OWN TIME. If you have excess time to fill, just aim the camera at Chuck Wicks and we'll all be happy.

PS -- I know I should have put a pic of Lawrence to accompany this entry but it seems a crime not to post as many pictures of Chuck Wicks as humanly possible.  No offense, Lawrence. You're cute too!

PSS -- How much does that Samantha chick make per show?  I think they should can her and give her salary to Chuck Wicks. A bonus, if you will, for looking so hot and classing up the joint. Although I fear if Samantha loses her job she won't have money to eat.  She'll be dead in a day. Her hair extensions weigh more than the rest of her.

Candy Spelling Rots

The View comes on right after Oprah in these parts, and so I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing self-described "trophy wife" Candy Spelling. Good Lord, if she's the trophy what does second prize look like? She was on promoting her book Stories from Candyland.  Is nothing sacred that she must affiliate this abomination with an adored children's game?  Babs (who is slowly going senile) said she "loved the title."  Other than Babs (who probably shares the same plastic surgeon) the gals were downright chilly to Candy at best.  She says she doesn't know why Tori isn't speaking to her.  Hint: when you tell people on national television your daughter stages paparazzi photos, she might be sore with you.  

I've never been a Tori Spelling fan, but after seeing this it's no wonder the girl isn't a serial murderer.  Tori, nobody would blame you if you started now. First victim: a former trophy wife trying to unload a $150 million home.

When questioned about her collection of knickknacks, Candy said "Call me crazy."  Well, okay, if you insist.  It will save me the creative energy of calling you a lot worse.

Serving Sizes

I’ve been on a 1000 calorie per day diet, or so I thought.  For breakfast and lunch I’ve been eating two lowfat Newberry muffins, which each have 160 calories per serving. 

So, for two muffins, I figured I was having 320 calories for breakfast, 320 calories for lunch, leaving 360 calories for a sensible dinner.  I just found out Newberry purports that each muffin contains two servings.  Who eats half a muffin???  And even if I only ate half the muffin and had someone to share it with, who wants a half-eaten muffin?

Now I come to find out I’ve been having 640 calories for breakfast, 640 calories for lunch and, truth be told, my dinners aren’t always so sensible.  I found similar issues with my pickle servings.

Vlasic says one serving of pickle has 1 carb and 5 calories. Good diet food. On further inspection, I realized that one serving ACCORDING TO VLASIC is 3/4 of a pickle spear. 

So you eat 3/4 of a pickle as a serving  but then what. Now you have 1/4 of a pickle left and a bunch of full pickles. So the next serving you have to take your 1/4 piece (which will be close to impossible to get from the jar) and a 1/2 piece from one of the full pickles leaving a 1/2 piece in the jar with all the other full pickles.  So now for the next serving you take that 1/2 piece (easier to get out then the 1/4 piece, but still hard to get at) and a 1/4 piece of one of the full pickles.  NOW you FINALLY have a full serving -- 3/4 of a spear -- left in the jar. That's nice because next time you can just reach in an grab that 3/4 piece as your full serving.  But that’s a lot of servings to go through before not having to cut up a pickle.

OR (I’ve thought about this a lot) you could just keep grabbing whole pickles, eating 3/4, and leaving the last quarter alone in the jar.  Not as difficult, but you will be left with a bunch of 1/4 pieces floating in the jar - which you will have to grab three of every time you want another serving.

Does this not seem like a lot of hassle just to have a serving of pickle?  I would think the pickle industry would want to make pickle-eating easy and stress free.

Why not cut the slivers differently?  Or change what is considered one serving? Why not say one whole pickle is one serving and call it a day? Apparently the Vlasic folks think that’s a lot of pickle for those whose affinity for pickles is somewhat less enthusiastic than mine. But then at least you wouldn’t have to leave any partially eaten pickles behind.  Of course growing smaller pickles is a viable option...

These are the things that keep me up at night.

PS -- You might be wondering why I have enough time to post three times in one day. So would my husband. If he read this blog. Because then he might be under the impression I had time to do things like cook and do laundry. Which I don't.  Because I'm pondering Life's Big Questions. Like pickle serving sizes. Oh, and Oprah's hair.

Oprah Cancels Scheduled Show, Producer Job Open at Harpo

"I decided to pull the Columbine show today. After reviewing it, I thought it focused too much on the killers. Today, hold a thought for the Columbine community. This is a hard day for them."

— Oprah

Read here Opes will be firing one of her producers. She goes on to say: "I've been saddened by the recent criticism of my hair.  When my hair is more noteworthy than the life-affirming, world-altering, spirit-lifting message I speak, it's a sad commentary on the society we live in."

Was she talking to me? OMG -- Oprah is talking to me!  I love you Oprah!!!!!!  Hi to Gayle and Stedman!  Your puppy is cute!

Okay, she didn't really say that second thing. But really, am I right about the hair? Why is she not listening? Is it possible her people don't read this blog? Curly!  Oprah people, for the love of everything holy, CURLY!

So instead the show was about inmates getting out of jail, a child porn ring busted and other feel-good topics that make you want to hit the tequila by 10 am.  At this point Dr. Oz would be a welcome return... Rotten organs on display and all.

Future Cat Ladies

We took our first trip to the zoo this season since the weather broke for exactly six hours in the world's third most miserable city.  It's at this point my suspicions were confirmed: my children like animals better than humans. This is a genetic condition that skips a generation.  I had an aunt that preferred cats -- we like to call it Feline Affiliation Syndrome (I believe the non-politically correct term is "Cat Lady" for those of you whose families are not afflicted with this disease). I think my girls may be headed in that direction. I can just picture them being 80 year-old spinsters, still living together, kitchen strewn with half-eaten Purina cans and they'll be known throughout the neighborhood as the Identical Twin Cat Ladies.  Which is doubly freaky. Although they seemed particularly fond of cows so I'm not sure how that will play out.  Cow Ladies doesn't have the same ring or connotation.  Plus I think they'll be city dwellers and there are probably ordinances against such things.

I also have a relative who walks around Maine with a fly net around her head and a big tree branch with which she picks up cans littering the picturesque habitat of Maine.  She’s made somewhat of a name for herself with the locals – they call her Crazy Mama SodaPop.  She once had a dinner party and served everyone frozen Lean Cuisine meals, only half thawed and still in the little plastic carton.  "What?!" she declared indignantly when her daughter tried to tell her that isn't appropriate fare for a dinner party. "They're delicious and some of those people could use a little healthy Lean Cuisine in their diets!"  So, you see, I'm not dealing with the best gene pool so to speak.

On a brighter note, I saw an old flame at the zoo and it was oddly pleasing to see my kids are cuter than his kids. I breed better than he does. So there.  Of course his kids seemed to like humans so maybe we're even.

Top Eleven Things That Surprised Me About Birth

11. There aren't a lot of hot doctors running around the joint like there are on TV.

10. You get poked more than Pam Anderson on her honeymoon with Tommy Lee. What the hell were they looking for with all those blood draws?  I felt like Amy Winehouse minus the euphoric buzz.

9. Doctors in a teaching hospital average the age of 10. I, literally, was the oldest person in the delivery room. "Hey guys," I called out when I looked around, "who are we going to call in case of an emergency???"

8. Babies are not clean when born.  Doesn't the staff feel compelled to spruce the babies up before handing them over to unsuspecting parents waiting for a nice, fresh Gerber baby to be presented?

7. It takes about 45 medical professionals to deliver twins.  I almost excused myself and said I'd wait in another room because there were so many people in there. Oh, don't mind me, I almost told one of the med students just there to observe, I'm just giving birth.

6. You might get an anesthesiology resident who never put in an epidural before. It took twenty minutes. My nurse squeezed my hand later and said, "Wow, you were nice. I would have told her to get the real doctor after her second try."  I'M NOT KIDDING.  No wonder they make husbands leave the room. They don't want any witnesses.

5. After your epidural is (FINALLY!) in, you can no longer have anything to drink. They do not warn you of this so you can guzzle liquids beforehand. I did not give birth for TWENTY-FOUR hours, resulting in me seeing mirages of water like I was marooned in a desert.  

4. You might throw up repeatedly during an emergency c-section because you were so thirsty you started eating ice chips by the gallon when nobody was looking.  

3. They make maxi-pads for human beings that could fit a rhinoceros.  

2. Your body will look worse when checking out of the hospital than when checking in.  

1. You might get the one doctor in the practice you haven't met when it's time to deliver.  Mine just returned from maternity leave and IT WAS HER FIRST DAY BACK. "Dear God, she's rusty AND hormonal," I whispered to my husband. 

Oh, and most shocking, the first thing I wanted to drink wasn't champagne...

Ashton Kutcher is a Twit(ter)

I. Don't. Get. It. (Ashton Kutcher or Twitter). Give me Bruce Willis any day of the week over this clown. Can he not get any attention due to his chosen profession (acting, presumably) that he has to "challenge" CNN to a duel to get more Twitter followers?  Doy. (I used to say that in eighth grade a lot. Someone would say something stupid and my collective group of girlfriends would scream "Doy!" in unison. Charming.)  

So, Ashton was Skyped into Opes today for Fridays Live to discuss the power of the Internet and social networking.  First the good news: Mark Consuelos was on vacation.  Now the bad news:  Nate Berkus was filling in. Am I the only person in America who thinks Nate is horribly overrated?  (Yes, I  know he survived a tsunami.  How long can you really milk that?)   

Highlights:

• They showed a picture of Ali before makeup (to her credit she went along with it.) Holy mother of God, it was like the worst horror show you've ever seen.  Opes should have warned the viewing audience. I'm still quivering under my desk and may not eat for days. She's only 44 for crying out loud. What has this woman been through in her life to cause such trauma???
• Opes' hair today: Bad, bad, bad.  At some point I'll have to get over it. That point hasn't come yet.
• What is Oprah's fascination with sex lately?  They had on a 10-year-old who just had her first sex talk.  The kid was adorable.  And she said she gets bullied at school which brought tears to my eyes. Have I mentioned I need mood-stabilizing medication?
• Ali still isn't funny.  She still thinks she is.
• Opes did her first "Tweet." Big whoop.

All in all, a big snooze. The producers in charge of Fridays Live need to kick it up a notch (or several). It makes The View look like riveting television.  Speaking of which, I actually like Elisabeth Hasselback better than Ali if that's possible.

Story Time

We just returned from story time at the local library, where a slightly disheveled and rather timid woman failed miserably at entertaining a bunch of toddlers. We hadn't been since this time last year (above) and I'd forgotten how painful it is. But I'm all about planned events that add structure to my day, without which I might scratch my own eyes out.  At least when I attend such forums, I want to scratch someone else's eyes out instead.  Like the mom wearing a Prada trench coat and furry boots who was ordering her au pair around, straight out of The Nanny Diaries. I thought about accidentally tripping her (the mom, not the au pair) but she struck me as rather litigious.  

The librarian conducting the session was a nervous wreck and it made me curious if being a children's librarian is a particularly stressful job. It's not like she had to take any of the toddlers home with her like the rest of us.

I sat quietly judging a mom with a four-year-old boy who still sucked on a pacifier in broad daylight. And then I remembered my girls are 17 months and still on a bottle so I mentally scolded myself for being a hypocrite and looked around for someone else to judge.  Then I looked down at myself.

I was (well, am) wearing a black cotton MATERNITY turtleneck with navy workout pants. No working out was going on today, mind you. Even on my worst day pre-motherhood, I wouldn't mix black and navy, even if Lucky magazine said it was okay.  I tried to find another shirt to wear this morning but everything is dirty. I could have done laundry, I suppose, but that might have sent a very misleading message to my husband that I'm willing, and have the time, to do it. He usually does the laundry but hasn't in a while and I'm wondering if we're in some kind of silent war about who will do the next load.  I guess I could ask him if we are in a battle of wills, but then it wouldn't be a silent war, and those are my favorite kind.

I once had a roommate who liked it hotter than Hades when she slept so after we were all in bed she'd go turn off the air conditioner. And then I'd get up and turn it on. And she's turn it off. And I'd turn it on.  Oh, I could do this all night, sister, I remember thinking to myself.  In the morning we'd pretend like nothing happened, like we didn't pad quietly back and forth alternately turning up and down the air from 50 to 100 degrees, confusing the hell out of the local meter readers.  Like a baby you're no longer going to feed at night, it only took a few nights for her to realize who won and stop waking up.

The girls will be up from their nap soon and we'll head out to the swings. I was thinking of changing but then it dawned on me that Daniel Craig probably won't be at the park on Waveland Avenue this afternoon so what the hell do I care?  Plus, when my husband comes home and sees how I'm dressed, he'll get the message I will go through MY ENTIRE WARDROBE, including maternity clothes, before I do the laundry. Another cold war won.

PS -- Opes had on a couple of 14-year-olds who think they are ready to have sex. Shoot me. She had her hair straightened but then kind of curled with a curling iron at the ends. Brutal. I am going to the drugstore to buy a perming kit after which I will hide at Harpo and launch a surprise perm attack tomorrow. I haven't given a perm since 9th grade -- the results were not as anticipated and I lost a friend in the process -- but Opes' hair can't get any worse than it is now so I think she'll appreciate the effort.

A Jackass Goes Home

So, no surprises here, Steve-O was sent packin' on DWTS. The guest performance was by Rascal Flatts.  Wow, that lead singer eats a lot of country fried chicken and grits or something. I didn't know country singers were allowed to be chubby.  Doesn't the music label put them on a mandatory South Beach Diet or similar?  There was also a performance by the new Broadway version of West Side Story. It made me realize I'd rather drink a bottle of vodka, regurgitate it and then drink it again than go see this play. So that was helpful.  Other observations:

• I'm developing strong feelings for Lawrence Taylor.  Plus maybe he'd let me borrow that big-ass diamond if we were sleeping together.
• Chuck and Julianne almost had sex on the dance floor. "I'm really turned on right now," Chuck said after their dance. Well, join the crowd, Chuck!  It was  like a porn movie if people in porns were actually good looking.
• Shawn Johnson bores me senseless. Nice girl. Good dancer. But zzzzzzz. Go do some blackflips and leave us all alone.
• Lil Kim, Gilles and Melissa will be around til the end.  Ty and his teeth are so nice! I feel bad but he'll probably go home soon. Unless there is a huge voting contingent of cowboys riding around the Wild West with cell phones in his corner.
• That Samantha host chick is really starting to grate on me.  Does she have a pulse or is she just a blow-up doll ABC uses to save money on host fees?  
• Carrie Ann got up and did some (not very attractive) jig while Bahahahahahahahahaaaa-ing herself silly.  Someone shoot her. Not to kill, mind you. Just maim with a short hospital stay.

In other reality tv news, our former governor who is indicted on corruption charges for trying to sell Obama's vacant Illinois Senate seat is seeking permission to fly to Costa Rica to tape "I'm a Celebrity -- Get Me Outta Here."  This just inspires so many questions. Does it behoove a former lawmaker facing a felony conviction to do such a thing? Does this man have lawyers advising him? Has NBC looked up the definition of celebrity?  A former harsh critic of the governor, I may now become his biggest fan...

Opes' show today was about sexual predators on the web.  Very scary and depressing. I will rid my home of computers before the girls turn 5.  Her hair looked insane. Sort of curly but pulled back in an unflattering manner. I think she's purposely trying to taunt me.

Kenny Chesney Gets Lots of Tail

Who knew!  I was in the kitchen pouring coffee when Kenny came on Opes today and by the audience reception I thought Daniel Craig had gone country.  The women were going ape shit. Ladies, he probably weighs a buck ten drenched. Tone it down a notch. Regardless, his cowboy hat adds a good five inches so his diminutive stature is cleverly masked. Opes, how can one interview Kenny with a straight face and not ask about Renee? How?

So Carrie Underwood was also on.  Call me a cheeseball (really, I can take it) but I am obsessed with her song "I Told You So" which is an old Randy Travis song.  Makes me cry.

Darius Rucker aka Hootie of Hootie and The Blowfish was also a guest because now he's posing as a country artist. Okay, let me address the elephant in the room:  Does Darius Rucker know he's black?  I watched the CMA's and the blackest person there was Reba McIntyre whose spray tan machine evidently malfunctioned.  Either way, you can't just become a country artist.  You either are or you aren't and Darius isn't. He's Hootie!  That's pop.  Now get your ass back in the studio with the Blowfish and stop this charade.

SugarLand made an appearance too. Wow is that woman annoying or what? Sheesh. Someone get her a choreographer so she'll stop gyrating to her own white person overbite boogie. Bleh.

Also, Opes looked really tired which makes me concerned that Ali Wentworth's under eye bag problem is catching.   If Gayle gets it we'll know for sure.

Where Are the Pirates When You Need Them?

People spent good money -- DURING A RECESSION -- to take a cruise with John Mayer. MayerCraft Carrier II (they did this last year too for the love of God!) docked safely yesterday, which makes me question why the pirates don't prey on someone nobody will miss. And given he wrote a new song about a clingy ex-girlfriend that debuted on the cruise, I doubt Jennifer Aniston would have been in the mood to pay a hefty ransom.   But I am looking for some nice white shorts as summer approaches and am tempted to Twitter him to find out the make and model above.

In other vital celebrity news, Mel Gibson's wife wants a divorce.  She clearly has no sense of humor. He had my all-time favorite line of 2006 when he said to an officer of the law: "What do you think you're lookin' at, sweet tits?"  WHO SAYS THAT???

Also, is it at all possible that Ashlee Simpson actually commented on my blog?  Because, if so, my job here on Earth is done. I can meet my maker knowing my true life purpose was fulfilled.  

"Miss Crabby Ass" over and out.

Dads Do Oprah, Oprah Likes Dogs

Never let it be said Oprah didn't give equal billing to dads. After last week's episode featuring real moms, she takes a decidedly more serious approach this week with dads.  And it made me feel like a real loser. I have two kids and a helpful (don't tell him I said that) spouse. One father on today has NINE kids, a full-time job, no help and his wife passed away.  Sheesh.  I'd like to make fun of someone on the show but unfortunately I can't.  Well, except Oprah. Curly, lady, I said curly!  

Oh, and if you missed the show where she previewed the "spring photo shoot" of her dog (does she do a shoot every season one wonders?) you can see the photos here. I'd like to be reincarnated as one of Oprah's dogs.  Perhaps it's a good thing this gal doesn't have kids. Can you imagine?  

Big news: Tomorrow's Opes features country singers.  I love country! Conspicuously absent from the lineup is Chuck Wicks... But I do love Kenny Chesney (not in that way) and I'm hoping Opes gets to the bottom of the Renee Zellwegger debacle.  In a recent issue of US Weekly Kenny said: "I've never had a woman say she wouldn't have sex with me because I'm bald."  Is it possible she just didn't have sex but didn't give him a reason and it was really because he was bald?  Or better yet, has a woman just said: "I'm having sex with you even though you're bald because you are worth gazillions of dollars?" Regardless, I do love Kenny and I don't think he'd mind me poking fun at him a little...

The Easter Bunny Wears Converse

If you were in charge of Easter photos, and the Easter Bunny was wearing Converse sneakers, wouldn't you feel compelled to document that?  Well, my husband didn't.  I shall punish him by withholding myself physically and emotionally.  He'll be baffled as to why and I won't cite a reason.   I like the utter confusion and insecurity this will cause.

We only have photos with the Easter Bunny from his knees up, all of which I am in and I have no desire to post pictures of myself quite yet. I might have made an exception if aforementioned sneakers were in the photo...  Even my 17-month-olds knew something was amiss. LuLu kept pointing to his sneaker and then her sneakers as if to say, "Easter Bunnies don't wear shoes, dumb ass."

Footwear issues aside, the girls LOVED the Easter Bunny.  We stalked him around the town square where LuLu would occasionally break free and hang on his furry leg.  At one point the Easter Bunny's friend came up, handed him car keys and told him he better move the car because he might get a parking ticket.  So here in Chicago we had a driving, shoe-wearing bunny with parking issues.  Please note the girls wore pastel this year.

One Year Ago

This was last Easter. Thanks in advance for not reiterating how ugly their outfits are. My mother and sister were kind enough to fill me in.  I don't really remember this period of my life but I imagine I was thinking, "How very different I am!  I will not dress them in pastels like every other mom out there!  How cool am I???"  Not very.

So we are off to meet the Easter Bunny. Given they don't like humans in general, I doubt they'll like a human dressed as a rabbit. I imagine their reaction will be similar to coming face-to-face with Charles Manson. Which is always fun in a crowded place.  I only feel the need to torture them in this manner because of all the grief I received for not making them go see Santa at Christmas time so we could all look at a picture years from now of two traumatized toddlers sitting on most likely a raging alcoholic's lap.  Wish me luck.

Moms Do Oprah and Other Stuff I Didn't Write About This Week

I had a self-inflicted drama (with me there is rarely any other kind) that had me indisposed this week so I have a few things to catch up on, which I'll do all in one post for the sake of brevity:

Moms do Oprah... That kind of sounds like it could be the follow-up show to the one about women leaving their husbands for other women.  Alas, instead it featured real moms talking about what motherhood is really like, which probably caused a lot of men not to get any sex Monday night. Most notable was the hilarious Stefanie Wilder-Taylor of Baby on Bored who compared buying a mini-van to a dog getting neutered.  Here's Stefanie's Easter post last year which definitely saved my sanity and quite possibly my life. (My girls were four months old at the time. Let's just say laughing wasn't my main activity this time last year.)  Was anyone else surprised that Dooce has a southern twang? Is Utah in the south? I need to get out a map.  

Also on Oprah this week:

• Tuesday: Dr. Oz on anti-aging again or something. Doesn't that man practice medicine?  Doesn't it require him to see patients? 
• Wednesday:  That nice rabbi who counsels people on divorce (he's the one marriage counselor in the world I would actually consider seeing if I was ever in need of marriage counseling. Which clearly I'm not.) was on talking to married couples hit by the recession. It was depressing. Miserably married and broke. Good times. Hand me the vodka.
  
• Thursday: Talking to your kids about sex. The expert thinks you should give your teenage girls vibrators. Picture LuLu and Moxley's mom with her hands over her ears singing "Lalalalalalalalalalalalala!" at the top of her lungs.

Oprah's Fridays Live is Back!  Unfortunately, Mark and Ali are back with it. Highlights:  

• Oprah had professional Easter photos taken of her dog.  This, clearly, is a cry for help. Her ass-kissing panel acts like this is normal. Maybe at Christmas she'll take the dog to the mall to go sit on Santa's lap.
  
• I had high hopes Fridays Live was cancelled last week because Ali was either getting some sleep or a blepharoplasty. Not so much.
• They spent an inordinate amount time discussing masturbation. It has to be at least noon before I discuss such topics (Oprah airs at 9:00 am here) so I went and had my tenth cup of coffee in the interim. Plus, if I am going to discuss said topics in the early morning hours, Mark Consuelos will not be party to the discussion. 
• Remind me why Mark is on Oprah?  Isn't he on a soap and don't they tape on Fridays?
• Ali apparently never heard the term "pecker."  Ali's daughter's name is Elliott. Elliott, who is six, caught Ali and George having sex.  I am just hearing that Ali and George have sex and I'm traumatized ... imagine poor little Elliott!
• It's 16 minutes into the show and they're still talking about sex.  I might as well just turn on the Playboy Channel.  
• Oprah looks springtime fresh in a lovely patterned top. Someone forgot to tell her it's still winter in Chicago. Maybe she has a heated bubble that goes from her penthouse apartment right to Harpo Studios and she never knows what season it is... She should hire a VP of Seasons to keep her apprised.
• James Taylor is on. James Taylor sings. James Taylor is a good singer.

In DWTS news, David Alan Grier was booted. I blame the mustache. Chuck Wicks is still alive and that's all that matters, capiche?