Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Funny, Smart and Interesting Won't Cut Bachelorette Ali's Mustard

"It didn’t feel good letting Craig go at the end of the night because I liked him so much. He is funny, smart and interesting. I am almost smiling when I say goodbye to Craig because I know in my heart that we will end up being good friends after this. Looking forward to seeing him at The Men Tell All.

Until Portugal …"

XO, –Ali Fedotowski on poor ol' Craig Robinson, aka The Poor Man's Peyton Manning

photo credit ABC

Come Monday

Come Monday

Headin' up to San Francisco
For the Labor Day week-end show
I've got my hush-puppies on
I guess I never was meant for glitter rock and
And Honey I didn't know
That I'd be missin' you so

Come Monday, it'll be all right
Come Monday, I'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown L. A. haze
And I just want you back by my side

Yes, it's been quite a summer
Rent-a-cars and west-bound trains
And now you're off on vacation
Something you tried to explain
And Darlin' it's I love you so
That's the reason I just let you go

Come Monday, it'll be all right
Come Monday, I'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown L. A. haze
And I just want you back by my side

I can't help it honey
You're that much a part of me now
Remember that night in Montana
When we said there'd be no room for doubt

I hope you're enjoyin' the scen'ry
I know that it's pretty up there
We can go hikin' on Tuesday
With you I'd walk anywhere
California has worn me quite thin
I just can't wait to see you again

Come Monday, it'll be all right
Come Monday, I'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown L. A. haze
And I just want you back by my side

I spent four lonely days in a brown L. A. haze
And I just want you back by my side

Written by Jimmy Buffett, 1974


Weird Engagement Photos Part MCMMLVMVMMV

Fashions for July

Fashions for July. (1860)

300 Canal Street, NYC today.

The Daily Grind 100 Years Ago

"New York circa 1910. Looking down Broadway from the Post Office. Singer, City Investing and Hudson Terminal Buildings. Detroit Publishing."

Monday, June 28, 2010

Emailing with Tuna the Fish

Anne: "John's growing like a weed. You?"

Tuna: "I'm growing like a weed too. You wouldn't believe how I've changed since the last time you saw me. Pretty soon I won't fit into any of my clothes and I'll be off to school."

Beer Flow Chart

Looks Like It'll Be Christmas in July for Ms. Doodle

photo via ModKat.com

Because it's nothing but the best for a kitty who has used the toilet for almost 11 years. I placed an order for the ModKat litter box in black this morning. The ModKat promises revolutionary space-saving design and litter/odor trapping functionality. With a grand total of $231.51, it'd better. No Vermont for Doodle this summer or any other season as far as I can see, but she may find that digging in the dirt is a fine vacation substitute.

"Digging In The Dirt" by Peter Gabriel

Something in me, dark and sticky
All the time it's getting strong
No way of dealing with this feeling
Can't go on like this too long

This time you've gone too far [x3]
I told you [x4]
This time you've gone too far [x3]
I told you [x4]

Don't talk back
Just drive the car
Shut your mouth
I know what you are
Don't say nothing
Keep your hands on the wheel
Don't turn around
This is for real
Digging in the dirt
Stay with me, I need support
I'm digging in the dirt
To find the places I got hurt
Open up the places I got hurt

The more I look, the more I find
As I close on in, I get so blind
I feel it in my head, I feel it in my toes
I feel it in my sex, that's the place it goes


I'm digging in the dirt
Stay with me I need support
I'm digging in the dirt
To find the places I got hurt
To open up the places I got hurt

Digging in the dirt
To find the places we got hurt

Friday, June 25, 2010

End of an Era: End of the Errors?

John and Doodle, MA ~ May, 2010

Considering the major life change that is John, Doodle's adjustment to her little brother has been relatively smooth. I spent a ton of quality time with Doodle before John was born. Namely because I knew things would be different once our new roommate arrived and also because at the end of my pregnancy, all I could do was lie in bed on my side. Doodle loves nothing better than a still, warm snuggle companion. After John was born, I read in my baby books that you're supposed to limit the time you spend with your animal friend before the infant comes home in order to prepare her. Oh well. I guess I'll just add this to the list of several well-intentioned parenting mistakes I'll make along the way.

Doodle was terrified of John at first, not sure what to make of this wiggling, crying thing that smelled weird and seemed to be everywhere: on the bed, in the basket, on the table, in the swing, in the bouncy seat, with Mom. Always with Mom. But once she realized the squirming twerp wasn't a threat to her safety, she relaxed a bit and went on with her life, a little hungrier for food and attention.

Most readers know that Doodle cat uses a toilet instead of a litter box, something I trained her to do over ten years ago with incredible results. I basically moved her litter box into the bathroom, put it atop the toilet, then switched it with a mixing bowl filled with litter, and finally, used some plastic wrap with a hole in it, the litter scattered on top to direct her where to go. And voila!Over the decade, she's had an 85-90% success rate, even managing to poop and pee in strangers' toilets when we've traveled to Massachusetts or Vermont. The problem has been, however, that when she makes a mistake (or an intentional mistake), it's often a costly one in terms of money, effort, and frustration for both of us.

On Monday, Doodle peed in the toilet and I gave her cheers, per usual. Later on, JD's Mom and brother came over to see the baby. JD was in the bedroom on the phone, and Doodle was running around acting a little crazy. Generally I pay close attention to her activity to thwart any potential rogue doo doo bombs, but I was entertaining. I assumed she was running to and fro because she had just done her #2 business in the can and was due another round of praise. I was wrong.

JD screamed out from the bedroom. I rushed in with a "What? What?? What???" He was in shock, and all he could muster was a gesture toward the clean comforter which, in my corner of the bed, now contained a little nest of logs compliment of Doodle cat. In her confusion over the number of guests fawning over the new roommate whom has stolen her thunder since March, she flipped and failed.

With the comforter clean and no "Bad kitty!" reprimands, I'm finally coming around to the idea of providing Doodle with her very own litter box so both of us don't endure the potty time stress anymore. She's a wild animal (wilder than most) with an intelligence, sophistication, and grace which surpass most homo sapiens, and I'm so proud of her. I think it's time I honor her with a box of dirt she can toss turds around in just like her peers. And if she wants to act like a lady and dump in the can once in awhile, that's fine too.

Viva Doodle!

Got Pride?


Diana Davies photographs, 1965-1978 ~ Christopher Street Liberation Day, NYC~ 1971

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Let's Face It

Having a baby is a good reason to buy this kind of crap so you can put your baby in it and say, "Wow! Look how cute my baby is lovin' this crap that I bought for him (with giftcards)!" Doesn't John need a beach chair and umbrella? At 20% off? I think so. It gets pretty bright in my apartment in the afternoon.

I'll Be Fit as a Fiddle in No Time Thanks to Sans

He found someone (a very cute someone) to jog for me.
Thanks, Sansy! I'll drink to that!

He Likes to Splash It Splash It

John, NYC~ June 22, 2010

Monday, June 21, 2010

When the Baby's Away the Cat Will Play

This little piggy went to market
This little piggy stayed home
This little piggy had roast beef
This little piggy had none
This little piggy cried weeeeee all the way home


This little family took a train to visit friends in the Philadelphia area this weekend. There we thoroughly enjoyed exotic suburban luxuries such as central air, washer and dryer, finished basement, SUV, and a big back yard with a kiddie pool. We didn't take Doodle cat with us.

Since we left late Friday afternoon and were scheduled to return early on Sunday morning, I didn't think I'd need to get a friend to come over to check on Doodle. I always worry about her when I'm away, but I reminded myself that one day by herself isn't a big deal. She's a former alley cat for cryin' out loud, she can handle it. Plus, it generally takes two full days of being alone and bored before she freaks out, and she had more than enough food and water to cover one full day by herself. Before I left for work, I gave John's Daddy (I'll call him JD) a Doodle Checklist, which he followed to a T:

  • Put up the step ladder (for her enjoyment)

  • Close the bedroom door (to discourage a rogue turd expedition)

  • Open a window (for ventilation)

  • Close the drapes (to keep it cool)

  • Keep the closet door open (she likes to sleep in there)
Remember that JD was not only preparing Doodle for our departure, but also packing up Baby John for his first visit to Philly. Anyone who knows anything about babies understands that getting out of the house with a baby is challenging no matter what. Because they can't pack for themselves. Or walk. And they require a lot of odds and ends and bits and pieces and you have to anticipate which ones will be required during your stay. Diapers, formula, burp cloths, clothing, extra clothing for barfed-on outfits, toy, white noise machine, car seat, etc. And since we don't have a car, travelling with a baby is extra complicated and obstacle course-y, because we must carry everything we're bringing with us on our backs.

Lucikly we travel well together and are getting good at it. The journey out was smooth, the journey back even smoother, and a great time was had by all. John got to "swim" in his first swimming pool, sleep in his first Pack 'n' Play, and JD got to celebrate his first Father's Day. My only regret was not eating breakfast at the house before we left because by the time we got back to the apartment, I was ravenous. And of course, curious how Doodle fared in our absence.

As I put the key in the door, JD said, "I wonder if there are 50 million turds in the house."

"I don't know," I said as I turned the key. "Maybe she surprised us."

She surprised us, alright. The smell in the house was not good. Sure, it was hot and humid, and presumably the cat had done at least some of her business in the toilet, but it had only been the one full day. Soon Doodle appeared, content and relaxed, which is a nice change from most cases after I return from a weekend away wherein she greets me at the door frantic and meowing. Now John, no longer distracted from the taxi ride, made it clear that he was hungry, so I had to get it together for him. I pulled a bottle out of the diaper bag, and as JD brought in the rest of the stuff, I went to the bathroom to flush the toilet and eliminate the stench so that John --and eventually we--could eat lunch in a pleasant setting.

At the bathroom's entrance, I was stopped dead in my tracks. Doodle played her own version of the World Cup this weekend. Not with a ball, but with a substantial mouse. And evidently, the mouse lost. Big time.

Look closely at this picture--as hard as it may be--because there's a lot going on. Exhibit A, obviously, is the mouse, taking front and center stage apparently having died a thousand violent deaths. The toilet in the back is chock full of waste, compliments of Doodle. Good girl! Mid-ground is a jingle ball, which may have been a part of the World Cup Game or found itself on the field later. Assorted spots on the ground are fur: mouse, cat, or both. The picture which had been sitting against the wall to be ultimately hung up (and then I went into labor) is askew from the scuffle. Doodle herself is on the side of the tub, so stoked to show off her kill that she can't get out of her own way.

I did a 180 degree turn when I saw this cat and mousy show and screamed for help. JD cleaned up the crime scene (and took this picture) because I couldn't handle it. Suddenly, I wasn't so hungry anymore. I ran to the kitchen to get the paper towels and bleach, and lo and behold, the kitchen door was wide open! In JD's haste to remember everything for Doodle and John, he had forgotten to bolt the back door. Thus, the wind blew it open at some point over the weekend, and Doodle had her run of the place, inside and out. For hours. Approximately 48 hours. Nope, she hadn't found that mouse in my house, she went down 8 flights to the laundry room and out the window to get it, and bring it back up for a good time.

No wonder she was so calm and collected when we got home. She didn't miss us one bit. In fact, she's definitely wondering why the hell we lock the back door at all when life is so much more interesting when her square footage of living space is increased and she can roam as she pleases. Had Doodle not found a mouse, she'd without a doubt have the " Gone Huntin' " sign up when we returned. And had she caught more than one, this joint would've turned into full-on Apocalypse Nimh.

Now back to the photograph for more fun facts. In the tub you can see John's blue playmat, which Doodle peed on earlier in the week and turned into a pissmat. I washed it, and it was hanging on the side of the tub to dry when we left for Philadelphia. But in the mouse melee, it must have ended up in the tub. I pictured the trembling mouse hiding in the mat's folds, Doodle with her paw placed firmly on top. When I went to tidy up the bathroom after JD disposed of Doodle's prize, I whisked up the mat to find approximately 50 million mouse turds flanked by a mega bonus of what I can describe only as a trio of organ meats, delightfully stewing in their own sauce which had coagulated and rendered the gizzards so stuck to the tub that I couldn't pick them up with a dry paper towel. There was also something resembling a tendon in the mix that was particularly stubborn to remove, resisting my grip with the stretchiness of a rubber band. Ahhhhhh eeeeeeeeeee yahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

When did the disemboweling happen? Before or after Mr. Mouse found himself on the tile floor? Was he so scared of Doodle the Ripper that he literally crapped himself to death in the tub? What's more thrilling, the chase or the kill? What's tastier, the heart or the liver? Was there mouse roux in the pile of Doodle's barf on the carpet this morning? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know if I want to know. What I do know is that everyone had an amazing weekend. Well, almost everyone.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Someone's Not Thrilled About Her Baby Brother

Doodle, NYC ~ June 17, 2010
We left John's playmat on the floor and Doodle decided to play on it, changing its name. Pissmat.

Weird Wedding Photos Part MCLMMVMXMMVM

Remember this crappy series? Well, it's wedding season, folks! And the perfect time for a re-introduction. Enjoy.

My Cousin Went to Hooters: A Review

My cousin went to Hooters last night and said there were "lots of hooters."

There you have it.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Party's Over

It seems like yesterday that I had a bun in the oven and was waddling around in the cold and getting into fights on the subway when folks wouldn't give up their seats for my pregnant arse. Now the baby's been born, my maternity leave is over, the warm weather is here, and I'm officially back to work.

Not many mothers yearn to leave their children with others so they can bring home the bacon, but it's a fact of life that I have to work. I miss my baby something terrible; we were inseparable for 12 months, afterall. But in the interest of Embracing the Positive Side of Life so You Don't Kill Yourself, I've realized there are some upsides to leaving the house.

One is getting off the sofa and away from the television set. I'm certain I watched every episode of every program on basic cable more than once. I saw so much t.v. I actually witnessed someone win the double showcase on the Price is Right (11 am EST on CBS). That doesn't happen very often, folks--the contestant has to be within $250 of the cost of her showcase to win both, okay? And this woman was off by $151--so... it's clear I put some serious hours into the boob tube while John put some serious hours into my boob boobs.

Another upside to being a working mother is engaging in face-to-face conversations with everyday people from all walks of life over the age of 0-3 months. Sure, mommy groups are nice (I had the chance to join one when I was back home visiting my parents), but the topics of discussion rarely stray from what new Moms are all dealing with 24 hours a day: a parasitic eating, eliminating, sleeping and crying machine who has suddenly developed baby acne and may not be getting enough tummy time--is he normal? Will this last forever? Sure, it's important stuff, and you want to know you're not alone, but sometimes you just want to hear about a great new restaurant--that doesn't have crayons on the table and sawdust on the floor-- that someone --not wearing a burp cloth on their shoulder-- had the chance to eat at recently.

What else? Well, leaving the house to go to work is a good reason to put on pants. And a little makeup, maybe run a brush through the hair. My apartment was a pants-free zone for a long time, because John and I lived on the bed, most everything we needed within arms reach. I wore a Men's XL t-shirt and John a diaper and "putting myself together" meant tossing on a robe before I answered the door for the man delivering the take out cuisine du jour.

Now that John practically sleeps through the night, the house and I are a little less messy and a little more ready for our close ups. Three months later, the baby has almost doubled his birthweight and I've already lost over half the pounds I've gained. I'm not back to my pre-pregnancy shape, and I'm not sure if I'll ever get back there, but I am finding some things in the pre-John wardrobe that fit reasonably well enough to be seen on me in public. And the public, generally, has been quite kind, offering up sentiments like, "You don't look like you just had a baby," and other crocks of shit that I'm all too happy to buy.

Last Thursday, I wore one of my red dresses from my old life which is made of fabric with a little give and has chic little "distracting pleats" in the mid-section. I was so pleased with my appearance, my reflection in the mirror almost convinced me for a nanosecond that I didn't have a baby who happened to be gurgling adorable things just a few feet away as I got dressed. Almost.

On my way home from work, I decided to visit the nail salon near my office for a touch up on the old eyebrows which hadn't been weeded in awhile. I hadn't been there since February when I got a pedicure at eight months pregnant because I couldn't see my toes. When I walked in, I was greeted by the salon owner with a big smile and enthusiastic hello, and all the ladies gathered around to see baby pictures and ask questions about John. Then the salon owner pushed my tummy and said, "You jog."

"Oh, well, yeah..." I shrugged, deflated.

And again, she pushed with her finger. Poke poke. "You jog." And she did the jogging motion with her arms, in case I didn't understand in her broken English that I'm now a fat ass.

"Yeah," I sighed, "I'll get there..."

"Because before, you sooooooooo theeeeeeeeen. And now," she gestured with her hands to make a big belly, "you soooooo..... beeeeeeeeeeeeg." Poke poke. "You jog." Jogging motion.


"Ok?" Poke poke. "You jog." Jogging motion.


I'd go kill myself, but I've got a baby to take care of. Meantime, I'll find someone to jog for me.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Why This Item is No Longer Available

I met a bride-to-be recently and this is her wedding ring. Paloma Picasso for Tiffany.

Apparently she got it just in time before all the other bitches snapped 'em up because now they're done sold out, yo.

Thursday, June 03, 2010