Have I ever blogged about MSCL before? What? What do you mean, what is MSCL? Jesus, man! It's only the MOST IMPORTANT television series ever. Seriously.

My So-Called Life ran for only 9 months in 1994-5. It was on opposite Mad About You, which was its ultimate downfall, but while it lasted, it was amazing. It perfectly captured the teenage angst/indifference/cluelessness that came with the territory of being an early teenager. Angela Chase was my idol.* And Jordan Catalano? Well, I'll just let the New York Times tell it. A Teenager in Love (so-called)

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, here are some visuals to get you going:

*And this character has caused me to adore Claire Danes, but not always her behavior. She's with Billy Cudrup, who is the baby daddy of Mary-Louise Parker's kiddo. The thing is, Cudrup left Parker mid-pregnancy to get with Claire Danes. I'm sorry, but that is just not cool. Claire, the girl I knew would not get with a guy who was still with his expecting girlfriend. I'm just sayin'.

**And a special note to Z: I have the series on DVD. I've been meaning to burn them forever so I can give you your own copy (because you MUST watch) but I think I'll just bring the discs to the next gathering and let you borrow them for as long as necessary.

Hoo boy! D and I have been discussing my previous post (the guy punches his girlfriend inthe face 3 times, the judge refuses to convict because she may have "wanted" it) and frankly, he has made me a bit peeved. Why? Because he sided with the flippin' judge! I won't even do dignity to his arguments by reprinting them here, but rest assured, they were not cool.

Anyway. For the record: I hate that my office is right across the hall from the men's bathroom. I'm sorry, but there are some funky aromas coming from that room.

Activities! Check out Learning to Love You More - it's from author/artist Miranda July and artist Harrell Fletcher. They have issued 65 (or so) assignments to the public for completion and submission, and they'll post the results on the website. Numbers 52, 51, 42, 32 and 26 are on my list.

And here's my complaint (rant?) for the week: since when does Halloween mean you have to tart yourself up? I guess for awhile, because I can recall (all those many years ago...) showing up at school dressed as a (gasp) French Maid (hey, I at least had a floor-length cape I wrapped around myself!). But looking at some costume websites (this one in particular) it would appear that the entire goal of the holiday is to make yourself over into a complete slut. For examples, see the Corrections Officer, the Referee, the Taxi Driver, and the really spiffy one, Texas Hold 'Em. But what's really worrisome is that this sexy-costume thing isn't limited to women. No, here are some wonderful options for teens (Army Brat, Classic Vixen, and Not Guilty Prisoner) and little girls! (Major Flirt, Mega Star, and Pink Bunny) Now, I'm not a total prude (though D would probably tell you differently). There's one costume I find hilarious, and would definitely wear it to a party. Feel free to disagree with me.

And out of curiosity, what's your opinion on using nooses as Halloween decorations? Is it completely inappropiate, especially considering the recent events in Jena, LA? Or are they just wholesome Halloween fun?

Wow. There are occasions when you can just sit back in utter shock after reading the paper. In Maryland, a policewoman pulling into an Exxon station saw a man hit his girlfriend three times in the face. The cop had the guy arrested (and rightfully so.) But when the girlfriend neglected to show up for the trial (reasons unknown - maybe she was, I dunno, scared?) the judge, in all his infinite wisdom, decided to acquit the boyfriend because the girlfriend may have wanted to be hit. He cited some crap about sadomasochism, and said that in order to convict the boyfriend of second-degree assault, he had to be certain that "the defendant's actions were not consented to by the victim. How do you determine that without the victim?"

An excellent response to this query was given by Byron L. Warnken, a professor at the University of Baltimore School of Law: "What do we do in a murder case?"

Indeed. Because some people like that kind of stuff, and they may have consented to being killed. (The Nation)

I know I've been posting lost of video clips lately, and I apologize. But allow me just one more day, please? I saw the best movie EVER last night and I'm all giddy and wanting to watch all that I can of it today. It's called Across the Universe. It's a story told entirely through Beatles songs - I know, it sounds a little weird. But it's awesome. And it certainly doesn't hurt that the lead guy is mighty easy on the eyes and can sing. It was a little awkward after the film though (which I saw with D) when he mentioned that he probably didn't get about half of the jokes and allusions in the movie because he doesn't like the Beatles. Who is this man that I married? I'm kidding, of course. Ok, watch. The first clip is my favorite scene, the bowling alley and "I've Just Seen A Face." (and Jude is looking F-I-N-E.)



Eddie Izzard!



The other male lead, Max.

In a real-life version of Harold and Maude, a 24 year old man in Argentina has become a widower after the death of his new bride (aged 82) from heart problems shortly after returning from their honeymoon.

Why Stephen Colbert should be president

(or at least Favorite Son) (and he has his own ice cream!)
I love Bush's slow realization that Colbert is actually making fun of him.

part 1



part 2



part 3

I have to state for the record that I am in complete awe of anyone who actually acomplishes anything while working from home. I had to do it this past week, and lawdy! LPT would not stop talking (screaming) for anything, especially something as trivial as a telephone call. Sheesh. And I couldn't get my work email set up to where I could read it at home, so we had to make these sporadic jaunts into the office with me looking like something the cat dragged in and LPT runniing up and down the halls and ignoring me. Add to that a complete lack of faith from the management and you have a very grouchy mama.

On the bright side, we do have a WONDERFUL friend who helped us out SO MUCH this week; see, our ceiling was falling down. And T came right in and FIXED IT. Apparently, the geniuses who built our house decided to put up the drywall for the ceiling with smallish nails, instead of the typical honking drywall screws. So teh nails had worked loose, and we were all set to have our heads bonked by falling ceiling-stuff. I know that T felt bad for leaving a column in the living room for a ocuple of days, but he's being a saint about cost, and he put up with LPT watching him the entire time they happened to be in the house at the same time and offering such comments as, "This is my doll." T was such a trooper.

And I know this is probably a great indication of what our relationship is like, but I'll go ahead and relay it anyway. The other night, after she spent the day coughing and snotting all over everything, D was trying to get LPT into bed with little success. So I walked in while she was on his lap crying, and suddenly she puked EVERYWHERE. As in ALL OVER HIM. D doesn't like vomit. (Ok, who does? But he gets really grossed out by it, going so far as to attempt to throw out instead of washing anything with vomit on it.) So as I was washing LPT off in the tub, he was cringing and removing his clothes after his "Vomit Bath." Maybe it's because LPT has blown chunks all over me so many times, but seeing him completely covered in the stuff made me smile and get fuzzy inside. Is that wrong?

On a totally unrealted (and wretchedly shallow) note, I found out that a guy I dated ages ago likes his girls to be...on the larger side. So what does that say for me?

Why does J.Crew suck, you ask? Well, allow me to show you:

The Kerin Dress - $450

Crocodile Ballet Flats - $495

Printed Calf-Hair Sofia Clutch - $350

Distressed-Leather Jacket (for the under 10 set) - $350

Ski-Print Merino Cardigan (again, for those aged 2 to 10) - $78

Who buys a $350 coat for a toddler? Or a frigging merino wool sweater (hand wash only, folks) for someone who makes a habit of getting messy and wadding things up? Does anyone remember the days of J.Crew when things were only slightly out of our price range? For instance, if you saw a spiffy chunky turtleneck sweater, you hoped it would be $50, but it turned out to be $78? Where is all this luxury coming from? And why? I used to look forward to J.Crew's winter catalogue, but now, I find myself disgusted. The impracticality of almost everything they sell is astonishing. I used to be able to get really substantial sweaters and shoes for twenty bucks when their clearance catalogues would come out. (an old boyfrind and I used to have matching rubber boots! how cool is that?) I guess those days are long gone.

The other day in our local paper there was a reader letter (3rd one down, "Make abortion illegal") addressing the legality of abortion. After reading it, I immediately was incensed at the oversimplification of the issue and pretty much every single one of her arguments. So on Wednesday, I wrote a letter to my editor. I tried to keep it under 200 words as they instruct, but I was a little too fired up - it would up being a little over double that length. But when I opened the paper yesterday, there it was! I know it's just an editorial, but I have never seen my name in anything that is available to the masses (besides this blog? whatever), so I was pretty stoked. Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here you go. (2nd one down, "Women need 'choice'")

And Mr. Gore won the Nobel Prize. That makes me happy.

As though women don't feel guilty enough about leaving their children at daycare: A 16-month old girl was left asleep in a high chair for two hours after her daycare center had closed and locked up for the night. He mother was able to see her through a window and would up calling 911. Firefighters had to break the door down. The kid was ultimately ok, but JEEZ. I guess that will teach mom not to be late again! The really sad part of this is that, despite the ridiculous lack of responsibility on the part of the daycare, at least one mother is still going to take her child there. Does she enjoy playing roulette with what neglect her kid will endure from day to day? Nope - she just doesn't have anywhere alse to go for childcare. (don't even get me started on what crap that is.)

So I have a friend. (woo hoo! go me!) And this particular friend is a huge fan of home birth; she's a licensed doula, and has tried valiantly to give birth in a kiddy pool in her living room. (there were complications and the midwife made her go to the hospital - c-section) And having a discussion with her about home birth can definitely highlight the perks of participating in such an event. Hey, there have even been nights when I threw my reasoning out the window and actually considered where in my house would be the best place. (fyi: I don't want to clean that shit up anywhere in my house.)

But I read a post today over at Strollerderby. It references an article at Daily Mail about the pros and cons of home births. And I think I have to count myself among the women who will never EVER give birth anywhere but in a hospital. To quote the Strollerderby author (which pretty much sums up my opinion on the whole thing): "I did not have a beautiful, comfortable, meaningful labor. Was that because I was at the hospital? No, it was because my labor hurt like an unholy motherf*cker." Amen to that.

I have found a chair that is truly me. Granted, I would have added some cushion, perhaps, but overall, the design is perfect. I present to you: Bookinist. It works like a pushcart, and can store around 80 paperbacks in the sides and back, along with all sorts of reading accessories in the arm. The only real problem I can see is the HEINOUS price: 2127.00 euros. Which is about 4254 dollars, give or take. DAMN.

And I think I can safely say that it's finally fall here. We had a chilly morning, the first in months, and instead of putting a light jacket on her, I let LPT leave the house without shoes and only her "bridal" dress on. I am an awesome mother.

D and I watched Superbad last night. It was wonderful to laugh at truly adolescent humor. And my, the film was rife with it. And I completely cracked up just now watching the trailer again.

Good times.

Oh, what an eventful past few days we've had. LPT has discovered the joys of glitter, and now our house had officially been glamourised. She glittered D's XBox, our TV, the credenza upon which all the entertainment technology rests, my office chair, the bathroom rug, and of course, me and D over and over. She also spilled it on her dress she was wearing at the time (more on that later) so that when you pick the item of clothing up, it acts as a huge glitter-dispersal unit. LPT also discovered the slightly evil side of glitter since she had it all over hands, and thus her thumb, and decided that glitter may be pretty, but it sure tastes like poo.

The dress of which I speak was no average dress, mind you. My mother went to T.J. Maxx and found a bridal costume for small children. It almost looks like a communion dress, but you can tell it's a costume. It white (duh) and the floor-length skirt has a giant hoop in it. LPT refuses to wear it unless she can have her "heels and lipstick," because really, who wants to be all gussied up and short with pale lips? And of course, since we had to run errands yesterday, and D foolishly told her she could wear a dress, she chose to go out and about as a princess bride, calling everyone "her buddy." (Seriously. First it was the Silver Surfer display at Circuit City, then it was a random african american man in the parking lot, then it was a lady in the car next to us at the stop light.)

Then there was the moment in the tub when she responded loudly to an persnickety toy: "I mean SERIOUSLY!"

And my favorite story of all this weekend, and D will probably hold it against me forever that I told, but here goes. Ok, D sleeps (as I am sure many do) in boxer shorts and a t-shirt. And being a guy, when he wakes up...you know what I mean. He usually goes straight to the bathroom without interruptions, but on Friday morning LPT stopped him in the living room. She gave him a once-over, and then asked, "Hey Daddy, what's that inyour pocket?" I was drinking some water at that moment and nearly choked. D turned red and tried (in vain) to get to the bathroom without further comment, but LPT, ever persistent, followed him until he shut the door in her face, asking "C'mon Daddy! Tell me what's in your pocket!" It took a lot of self-control on my part not to let loose with a string of uncouth jokes, but I had to tell myself again and again that she is three and wouldn't get them anyway. I hope.

Well, I rescind my last post a little bit. HAPPY FALL MY ASS. The high today is 85, and the high this weekend is 90. The leaves are dying, but this ain't fall.

Lil' Puddin' Tater has decided that she wants to be a witch for Halloween. With a green face! And a long nose! And a pointy hat! So, I got her a broom and face paint and a nose from Target, along with a pointy hat with silver stars on it. My mother is firmly in the mindset that she should probably be a princess or something "nicer." She keeps showing LPT all these frilly dresses, but (yay for my daughter!) she's standing firm for dressing up as something not quite so prim.






Have you had the opportunity to see these ads from Dove? There's a bit of controversy about right now regarding the first one (Onslaught), mostly having to do with corporate ties/ownership that has to do with Dove, but I think they're great. We can talk til the cows come home about how everything is airbrushed to death, or that models don't really look like that in real life. But the Evolution ad sums it up without having to say anything. Onslaught personally makes me feel terrible because I know that LPT will be exposed to all that (psh - who am I kidding? She already has) and no matter what I say or do, it will affect her. Hell, she's seen me try on 20 different articles of clothing (no jokes from those who know me well, please!) trying to find something that looks suitable, and she's also heard me and others feeling good when we're told that we look like we have lost weight. Fortunately, right now a big stomach is a novelty for LPT - we guess what "filled it up" (i.e. macaroni & cheese, milk, juice, etc.) and she struts proudly, letting her tummy pooch do just that. But I wonder how long all this will last - when will she start liking the clothes in Limited Too that put more focus on her body? And what reaction will she have if her body doesn't look "as it should?" Below, a selection of items from Limited Too.

Happy October, everyone! Happy Fall! I think the only time I really enjoy living in this allergy-laden valley is during the fall. Everything is SO pretty, and the air is crisp and somehow smells really good most, if not all of the time. To the left, you can see a very picturesque street in the HIghlands, (backing up my 'pretty' claim perfectly) which is hands-down the best place to live in Louisville. I know this because I left the Highlands when LPT was born (what a fool I was!) and settled in St. Matthews, which is very close to the Highlands, but far enough away from downtown that the yuppies feel safe. I live among yuppies.

We went to the zoo this weekend, and finally got to see Scotty (piss poor name), the baby elephant. Adorable. Although LPT was in a wretched mood - refusing to look at the animals, wanting to see THE ALLIGATOR AND SPIDERS NOW! and refusing to admit her hunger when we went to lunch. Then, horror of horrors, I THREW AWAY HER JUICE. Granted, there were bees all around it and possibly a dead bee physically in the bottle, but to throw it away?! In her words, Jeez, mom! That was MINE! We also got to see all sorts of people, and I discovered that going to the zoo on a beautiful day is kind of like going to the fair. You see exactly who makes up this city, warts and all. Not that I am being elitist here. I mean, we were the group with the squealing kind who would not sit in the stroller properly (feet firmly planted on the ground or on the wheels themselves) and the mother with the huge sweat stain on her chest from where her bag had been slung across her body. We were cute, let me tell you.

And I would like to take a moment to convey just how ridiculous things are: a coke at the zoo is currently $4.99. Yes, you read that correctly. It's about the size of a McDonald's medium, too. What about refills? They're $1.99. The soda and water machines cost $2.00, and there are little traps all around to make you spend more. For example, at the bottom of a very long (very long) hill, they conveniently place the kiosk to purchase Tram tickets. You can purchase these tickets at the entrance, but at that point everyone is happy and confident that they can make it through the tour of animals. Then, approximately every 30 feet or so, there is a Dippin' Dots stand where, for $2.50, you can get a thimble-full of dry ice cream. And all this is in addition to the numerous "DONATE TO THE ZOO OR YOU ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON" boxes scattered about the property.

And, adding to my joy, a large woman happened to be camped out on a bench in the Herpaquarium (I don't know if that is the right name or not - it's basically the building where they have the reptiles and spiders (!) and Vampire bats.) When I sat down next to her (this was after the heinously long hill) she asked me if I was pregnant. I said yes. She asked when I was due. I told her May, and she got all wide-eyed and asked me if I was sure I was having just one (ha. ha.) because I was SO big. I never know quite what to say to people when they ask questions like that. It happened when I was preggers with LPT, too. I guess I should have pointed to D and said, "We grow 'em big like their daddy!" in some backwoods manner. And yes, I am showing more with this midget than I did with LPT. But I was a lot smaller when I got pregnant the first time, and my muscles didn't know what to do or to what extent they were going to stretch, so I was pretty smallish (or at least average) until the bitter end (ugh...July and the attack of the cicaidas) Now, however, my body knows what's up and has decided to let it all hang out, so to speak, like everyone does at Thanksgiving after the meal. The muscles, knowing that they will soon be suffering, have decided to go ahead and throw in the towel and relax while they can. I'm cool with this. But not when it is pointed out to me, overtly and in public by someone with whom I am not on familiar terms. There, I said it.