I know, you all saw that title and thought, “How sweet, she is going to praise the virtues of her sweet Gary of Hey Nanny Nanny and Janie Knight fame.” Well, of course he is the perfect husband, but this post is not about him.
For those who have been following along, my daughter Jana is doing a semester abroad. That is college-speak for I will tolerate a few hours a week of class so I can be in a different city (sometimes two) every weekend. This weekend found her in Amsterdam, with a side trip to Brussels. When she is traveling I usually wake up to a BBM (blackberry messenger message – it’s like a text for you non-crackberry heads). This morning I found this photo with no message. It was hard to read on my bberry so I had to email it to myself to see what it was.
If there was any doubt that I was genetically linked to this girl you will now understand that I would have to be her mother. Ahhh, the Inflatable Perfect Husband. This must be the 20-year-old version of the Grow Your Own Parents that I bought her in middle school when we were getting on her last nerve. I particularly like the french word for inflatable… gonflable. How do you pronounce that? Anyone? I took Spanish so it is lost on me but I love the way it looks.
I shudder to think what the Inflatable Perfect Wife has behind her back.
Sometimes you eat the bear. Sometimes the bear eats you.
Sometimes you meet in the middle for hours upon hours of tedious negotiations. Yep, door number three, that was my day.
So kiddies, you will forgive me for not writing last night. And for leaving this post that borders somewhere on the periphery of the mentally unfit. (a little place I call my playground almost every friday night these days).
Not unlike those little spongey capsules that turn into animals and circus characters when you add water that my kids used to love so much, I will add a little vodka to this twisted little mind and hope it springs back to something acceptable by the AM.
Ok, it has been at least a week since I have posted something inappropriate about private parts, I would say it is time for another one, wouldn’t you?
Thanks to my dear friend Jessica Gottlieb, who never fails to disappoint me by pointing out the most outrageous postings on the interweb, I have been made aware of the latest in genital fashion.
Apparently the new craze is called Vajazzling. Yep, just what it sounds like folks. Bedazzling the Hey Nanny Nanny, if you will. Those crazy folks at Swarovski have found themselves a brand new market. Looks like this will be hot with all those rhinestone cowgirls out there. (slutty much? jeez) So let me get this straight, pubic hair is out, pubic jewels are in. Oh I get it. What the hell?!
It seems this all started when Jennifer Love Hewitt mentioned doing it on the George Lopez show.
For those who want an up close and personal look at this new art, crazy Bryce over at theluxuryspot.com went and had this done… with a photographer! You have to love this woman!
I simply must own this shirt. There are many versions of it out there on different sites but this one is my fave. (I saw this on twitter tonight from my friend Marci Diehl so I thought it only right to give her a little link love here). And if there really was a National Sarcasm Society and not just a ‘we’ll be right back’ website I think I would have to be a lifetime member.
If you read me regularly you would agree. If you live with me or talk to me on a regular basis, aside from wanting to run me over with your car on occasion, you would testify to it in a court of law.
I always wonder if sarcasm is an inherited gene or if it is a nature vs. nurture question with my kids, but these two have surely honed the fine art. A night at our dinner table is always a walk into the fire. If you are off your game you are surely screwed. I think our favorite family line is ‘Are you kidding me?!”
I constantly talk about doing a T-shirt line, I have scraps of paper and lists in my notebook of some really great lines. Maybe it is time for me to go ahead and do this. What do you think?
Hey, like I need your support? (oh sorry, I got carried away)
If you are lucky, you have a spot in your home where you can go to just BE. This is mine. Right there in the corner of that couch is where I can park my weary bones with a book or the paper and stretch out in the sun. I lay there and all the stresses and aggravations of the week disappear. Late at night when I cannot sleep, I find myself there. I suppose I simply take comfort in it’s familiarity. There is something about the peace in that spot that is like no other. This particular shot even features the beautiful Valentine’s flowers from my dad (thanks daddio-sir), and they are still alive a week later.
This room used to be a screened in porch with wicker furniture before we renovated. In both incarnations, the space holds such sweet memories for me. In that very same spot sat a wicker couch where I nursed my babies. In later years the floor was littered with legos and blocks, crayons and pipe cleaners; all the makings of a day at home with young children. There used to be a window between this room and the living room where the kids would put on puppet shows and ‘entertain’ us till we dozed off.
If ever a space held the power of a family, it would be this one. Within those walls I feel that power and I realize how lucky I am. Quite a few times we attempted to move from this house. (ok, maybe that is an understatement, let’s just say every 5 years we tortured our poor realtor and then never pulled the trigger) Yes, it got a bit tight, sure I wanted a new kitchen or a bigger family room. Yeh, it would have been great to have a master bath. But what I would have lost would have been the ability to sit in that space and soak in all the memories we have created here.
And honestly, looking back, I think I would have left a piece of me there that I could never get back.
Oh, and of course there is only one thing that makes that space one step more special to me. And that would be…
No, folks, no Photoshop miracle here. This baby came right out of the bin at the supermarket we affectionately call Stinky Farms (for the way it used to smell when I was pregnant, before they renovated).
I always find it uncanny when I find body part vegetables. This is not the first time I have blogged about them. Who could forget my friend Katie’s rather impressive cucumber from fire island? (All the other vegetables were jealous Vol. 1) or the rather impressive horse radish during Passover (vol 2)? And then of course there is Gary’s hidden talent for peeling an orange into an ‘elephant’ (cough, cough, yeh right)
But this one? This one is almost freakish in its resemblance to a perfect little baby’s butt.
Yeh, I know, you all wish you could go food shopping with me.