About Me

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Concord, California, United States
I am a sometimes-writer, everyday mama, creative failure and experimental cook. I am interested in living a beautiful life, spending time with my family and making things that I can feel proud of. When I'm by myself I'm usually outside. Don't bother calling because chances are that I didn't bring my cell phone because I couldn't find it. If you see me walking, it's because I lost my keys and if you see me with only one child... I'm probably in big trouble.
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Confessions From A Couch Potato Chip

Without any hesitation, I tell that you I absolutely love television.  I am not one to watch something when it's on... but I like to record shows and get a little sample of everything new that comes out.

Most people know that I'm really like this about everything in popular culture.  I am just totally fascinated by things that are created to entertain people.  And though I enjoy a dynamic documentary that is meant to create movement, I also really love a mindless TV show that was only created to offer distraction.

Today, while I was doing my dishes, I started to think about The Office and how sad I am that it's over.  There are some TV shows that you sample and maybe watching a season of before losing interest in.  And then there are some that you really look forward to.  The Office was a show that I really, really loved and am sad to see it over.

I made a little mental list of TV shows that I love and wanted to share them here.  Some are old and some are still in production.  They are all favorites, but I am starting with the shows that I look forward to the most!

Lost
Boardwalk Empire
The Office
American Horror Story
Dexter
The Rock of Love
Dawson’s Creek
Shameless 
Felicity
Dance Mom’s
Teen Mom 2
House of Cards
The Real World
Chopped
The Facts of Life
Modern Family
Arreseted Development
Party Down
Parks and Recreation
Felicity
Twin Peaks

The Following
A Baby Story
The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
Paula's Home Cooking
The Real Housewives of Atlanta 
   

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Moxie- the ladies tampon

Alright, ya'll.  So, I'm not one to come onto my blog to talk about my period, tampons, cramps, bloating (okay, okay, so I totally complain about bloating, I know), moodiness, absorbency and on and on...

But, of course, because it was the day before I had to travel to my beach vacation, I got my period.  Which means that the most miserable day of this monthly affair will happen on the day that I am traveling across the country with two children and hands that are full- FANTASTIC.

All I had at home was a box of big, bulky tampons that would inevitably become tools for public humiliation by my daughter.  Days from now I'd be chatting it up with Doug from the Hardware store about fishing, red meat and football and look down to see that Lila has unwrapped all of my tampons and has them out on the counter, pretending that they are dancing girls on a stage while drawing faces on them with a sharpie marker.

Truthfully, I would talk about good ole Aunt Flo to anyone who wanted to know, but I realize that it makes many people uncomfortable.  And as a result, that makes me uncomfortable.

I used to use the diva cup and truly loved it, but I lost it (how do you even lose something like that?)  It's likely being used as a Barbie hat or something now.  I never think to pick another one up while I'm in Whole Foods, and I don't know of any other nearby store that sells them.  So, until I think of the diva cup at a convenient time, I am at the mercy of good-ole-fashioned-tampons.

Yesterday, I had a few errands to do.  I needed to pick up a little double daddy for my husband, tampons and a treat for Bunny.  Bunny and I decided to walk instead of drive, which is something we should really do more often.  We stopped at the grocery store so that we could do it all in one stop.  While there I decided to pick up a box of tampons for my trip.  I wanted something small and compact, so that I could easily fit more than enough in my already overstuffed purse while traveling.

I came across the prettiest tampons ever.  They are made by Moxie and sincerely speak to the 1940's pin-up living in my little heart and soul.  She owns real-estate in the tiniest place within my psyche and is certainly out-shined by the 1960's advocate and the 1990's Tori Amos worshipper who still wears Chanel vamp lipstick AND nail-polish, but my inner-pin-up is present and accounted for and solely represented by a box of tampons.

Truth be told, it should come as no surprise that I am a marketing junkie.  Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce should study me because I completely buy into a good marketing campaign.  Even when I can tell that an ad is pandering to my demographic, I can't help myself but be hooked and reeled in.  My mind is weak this way.

Back to tampons.  These tampons cost about a dollar more than the tampons that I would usually buy.  It's enough to make me take pause, but not enough to prevent me from purchasing them.  They are SO PRETTY.  I came home and admired them and showed Jay and thought of all the things that I could do with the little tins that they come in- like store cinnamon or tissues or chap stick or q-tips.

The tins alone are worth that extra dollar to me.

Look at them!  Aren't they just the prettiest things that you've ever seen.  I haven't tried one yet, so I can't give any sort of product-review... truthfully, I have never had a problem with tampons so I'm not the right person for that job.  A tampon is a tampon is a tampon is a tampon in my opinion.  But it doesn't hurt that they are making a tampon that I look forward to buying!




Tuesday, May 22, 2012

50 Shades Review

***SPOILER ALERT***
Do not read this post if you want to read 50 Shades of Grey, 50 Shades Darker or 50 Shades Freed by E.L James or see this movie and value an element of surprise.  


Anyone who has gotten to know me knows that I am fascinated by pop culture.  When something explodes into the mainstream and wraps all of America around its metaphorical finger, I'm unable to stay away.  I'm like a moth to a light, a fly to a burger and stay-at-home-mom to a Whole Foods Market.  For this reason, I vote every Wednesday for our next American Idol (go Phil Phillips), and I shop Etsy first.  I buy my clothes from Free People and I have read every Twilight book (even the non-published, half-written, online book from Edwards perspective).  I know all of the "Real Housewives" cast members by first AND last name, feel like Emily Maynard and Courtney Robertson are old friends of mine AND have every lyric to both "Jar of Hearts" and "Firework" memorized.

As you can imagine, I could not resist the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy.  Reportedly, these books have changed the lives of women far and wide.  They've saved marriages and my friend Laura even knows someone who has read them THREE TIMES (which disturbs me).

Confession:  I couldn't make it through, though I gave it a valiant effort.

I read Fifty Shades of Grey one night last week.  I read Fifty Shades Darker the following night.  I have been unsuccessfully struggling to choke Fifty Shades Freed down my throat ever since.  I am not one to abandon a book.  Books are like cd's.  How can you possibly know if it's any good if you haven't listened to the whole thing?  But friends, I.  CAN.  NOT.  DO.  IT.  I have tried.  I have popped my eye lids up with toothpicks and forced them to take in the monotonous drivel of E.L James for two hundred pages of the final book in this trilogy... but no more.  I surrender.  My brain can no longer endure the absolute stupidity of these novels and I simply can not make it through.  I just can't read about Christian Grey "cupping"  Anastasia Steele-Grey's "sex" anymore.  I just can't read about her having an orgasm at the very sight of his clothed erection or using the word "please" interchangeably with, oh idunno, every other world that means "I want to get it on right this second."  Even typing about it makes me want to kick Mrs. Grey in the face.

That said, I have an awful lot of respect for E.L James.  I imagine her to be a chubby mum, snuggled into the overstuffed, floral patterned chair in her English cottage, eating scones with clotted cream and sipping tea, thinking- "I've always wanted to write a novel.  Bloody Hell, I'll start straight away."  And after a little contemplation and a Monday Twilight movie marathon, she decided to write about what Edward and Bella would be if they were rated XXX.  E.L James pulled out her Microsoft Word and online thesaurus and went to town.  No research.  No understanding of convention.  She poured her imagination all over the page and the whole western world ate it up.

And just look at her now! E.L James is taking her fan fiction all the way to the box office.  It's mind boggling.  I understand a lot of things that I don't necessarily like.  I get Britney Spears.  I get skinny jeans.  I get Dancing With The Stars.  I get facial tattoos.  I get paying $800 for a pair of shoes whose  claim to fame is it's red sole.  I do not get Nickleback.  And I do not get 50 Shades of Grey.

That said, each 50 Shades book is about 700 pages on my iPad.  I'm not sure how that translates into real pages.  Let me tell you how the book gets it's name.  Christian Grey says, at one point that he is "50 Shades of Fucked Up" and Anasatia starts referring to him as "50 Shades."  Anastasia has a lot of contrived, stupid, non-clever nicknames for other characters in the book.

Okay, so Fifty Shades of Grey begins with its heroine, Ana Steele driving from Oregon to Seattle so that she can interview the Billionare businessman who donates money to her college's agriculture department for her wannabe journalist, sick roommate Kate.  She meets gorgeous, nerve wracking Christian Grey.  He is a stoic, stone-cold business man who doesn't have time for anyone, but is immediately smitten by how awkward, dumb, clumsy and rude Ana is.  She asks him a bunch of boring, unimaginative questions and marks him as the first man she has ever been attracted to in her life.  She asks him if he's gay and this is apparently very scandalous and a terribly big deal.  We later find out that not only is Christian a self-made billionaire, but he's only 26 years old and makes $100,000 an hour and is a Harvard dropout.  Ana is about to graduate from college.  She's a bookworm and a virgin who has never been interested in a man, but is now ready to shake her chastity belt free for Christian Grey.  She also doesn't care about money at all.  She neither struggles with money or appreciates money or shows that it has any impact on her quality of life at all.  She lives practically for free, mooching off of her roommate's wealthy family while working part time at a hardware store.

Christian was adopted when he was four years old by the pediatrician who found him at the scene of his birth mom's suicide.  His birth mom is consistently referred to as "the crack whore" throughout the entire story.  He was physically abused by his mother's pimp, neglected and left alone with his mom's rotting body for four days.  He did not speak for two years after being adopted.

I am not certain what happened to Ana's biological dad.  I think that he died.  I don't remember this being stated specifically (though it probably was), but on Ana's wedding day, her mother says that she wishes her father was there to see it.  In any event, Ana was given the name of one of her mom's other husbands, Ray.  He is also the man that Christian speaks to when he wants permission to marry Ana.  Her mother lives in Georgia with her current husband Bob and clearly is attracted to men with three letter names.  Her next husband will likely be Joe.  They are flighty weirdos with no sense of responsibility.  Her mother didn't go to her graduation because Bob broke or sprained some random bone conveniently.  So dumb.

So, it's reasonable to assume that Christian's difficult start in life left him with a few pesky issues that he works on with his therapist (who oddly is invited to all of their family events and bid on Ana for a dance when she was spontaneously auctioned off and sold for $100,000.)  Christian's life was further complicated when a friend of his parents began beating and sleeping with him at the age of 15.  Her name is Elena, but Ana consistently refers to her as Mrs. Robinson.  So dumb.

Mrs. Robinson quickly taught Christian about the world of BDSM and 11 years later he's moved on from his relationship with her and acts as the "dominant" partner in contractual relationships with subservient women.  These women are all small with brown hair and resemble his birth mother.  He likes to beat them and then have intercourse with them.  This oedipal undertone is sprung on us like it's a twist, when it was painfully obvious.  So dumb.

Christian approaches Ana in respect to his penchant for sadomascochism, giving her a list of rules like, here's what you can and can't eat and here's when you can and can't eat. You have to come to my house every Friday through Sunday. You have to let me do anything to you sexually.  You only speak when spoken to and must call me master or sir.  You have to only wear the clothes I buy for you.  You have to be polished and waxed from head to toe.  Of course, he has a "play room" full of torture devices in his penthouse and he can terminate the arrangement whenever he wants.  Because Christian explains to Ana that he is not able to be available to her in any other way, and that the only relationship that he is willing to have is an abusive, sexual, controlling, dominant relationship, she figures that she'll take what she can get and cries a lot.  She also struggles with anorexia that is explained but never really addressed.  If anything, it's exploited and glamorized.

Christian has had a few long term "subs" who have agreed to be his weekend maid, chef, baby, mother and sex slave.  They have done things like tortured cats and been scratched up by them, been suspended from the ceiling, been whipped and flogged and had any number of objects shoved into any orifice.   But Christian had to end these relationships when they women became too emotionally attached to him and wanted "more."  The word "more" is used in the first two books as if it were some deep vehicle for complicated introspection.  The way E. L James overuses it but never defines it is maddening.  It makes these characters feel incredibly juvenile.

Of course, Ana learns all of this and immediately drops her panties.  She does not, however, sign Christian's contract but decided to dabble in S&M anyway.  She does agree to participate in a completely unhealthy relationship because she evidently  hates herself.  I could sum this story up by saying that there were two people who hated themselves and were obsessed with each other.  And everyday they just said, "Baby.  Don't hate yourself.  I love you.  No.  I love you.  No. I love you.  YOU ARE MINE," over and over and over and over and over again. When Christian finds out that Ana's a virgin and that she's never masturbated or had an orgasm and wholly the most non-sexual person ever, he decides to have what he calls "vanilla sex" with her.

And here's where the trilogy goes entirely downhill.

Ana loses her virginity and engages in poorly written sex on every page or so for the rest of the next two and a half books.  For someone who has never been at all interested in sex, she has full-on vaginal orgasms when Christian touches her nipple, says "You are mine," licks his tips AND she's even woken up by one once.  (It was at this point that I turned on the internet to see if E.L James was a.) a man or b.) a virgin.)  Luckily for Christian, Ana is always ready to go and can have an orgasm on command.  I mean, literally, he'll tell her to hurry up and she'll just go ahead and do it and usually at the exact same time that he is. Especially if he says, "You are mine."  Miracle of miracles.

The sex scenes in this book are terribly written and mostly driven by Christian saying cheesy things and repeating the phrase "oh baby,  I want to take you now" over and over and Ana saying, "Please" and nothing more.  As the books wore on, these sex scenes became sooooo over the top cheesy that by the end of 50 Shades Darker I was laughing at them.  By the time I hit my midway point in 50 Shades Freed I was  just skimming the sex paragraphs to find their end so that I could start reading again.

When Ana and Christian aren't in the playroom or tangled up in his vanilla sex bed, they are becoming  obsessed with and falling in love with each other.  Somehow, this is possible, though they have only had a few (in any) conversations.  Their relationship is horrible and laden with conflict and a struggle for power and control.  They fight all of the time and only feel secure when they are assured that they each possess each other.

Ana and Christian's families entirely accept their relationship and each other.   Christian's parents give Ana 100% credit for Christian being/becoming human.  Oddly, they attribute his strides in mental health to HER and not to the therapist he sees for hours every week.  Repeatedly, Christian will do something surprising- like sing or survive a helicopter crash or bail out of work for the day- and as a result, his mother will sweep Ana into her arms, thanking her for existing.

Ana's friend Kate doesn't like Christian because he's made Ana feel like a sperm receptacle, but she sure likes his brother.  And no worries.  When Kate becomes an obstacle that E.L James isn't savvy enough to cleverly overcome, she just sends Kate out of the country for awhile.  Fortunately, Kate's parents have bought an apartment in Seattle where Ana is able to live.  After about five weeks of knowing each other, Christian and Ana decided to get married.  Everyone is overjoyed for them and of course, he insists on not having a prenuptial agreement.

But let me backtrack just a few steps.  Rewind to Christian and Ana's pre-wedding, falling in love week.

Here's where things get really bad for me.

Christian spanks Ana a little too hard and they break up.

Ana graduates from college and quickly gets an internship at a local, small publishing company.  Her boss is a sleaze bag who, naturally, wants to sleep with her.  Christian and Ana get back together.  He buys the publishing company in order to have control over Ana.  But things take a real turn for the worse when Ana's boss predictably sexually harasses her in the office while Christian and his security team are waiting in the car downstairs.  Christian has Ana's boss fired.

(And here is where I was completely lost and unable to suspend my disbelief further.)

When Ana goes into work, the company has decided that in the week that she's been there she's done such a great job, that they are going to promote her from being an INTERN to taking her boss' old job as a chief editor.   They insist that her "notes" have been seriously impressive and have gotten her this job.  Further, though all you see Ana do at work is email Christian, apparently she has built sustainable, strong relationships with all of her boss's clients.  Again, this was all established in ONE week.  When she decided to leave for a month on a honeymoon, it's no problem.  They just hold the promotion for her.  And when she comes home from the honeymoon she has her own assistant.  And Christian is giving the company to her and promoting her to being the president of it.  And renaming is Grey's Publishing.

In the meantime, Ana's old boss tries to kill Christian a few times.  There are even car chases followed by parking lot, adrenaline induced sex.  Oh, and Christian buys Ana a giant house.

And that's as far as I got.  Now that I'm writing about it, maybe I will continue reading.  This is possibly the worst book that I've ever read in my life.  I can not even reconcile how terrible it is, never mind how it's possible for so many people to love it.  But can I really just not finish it?  Jesus.  I don't know.  It just has no depth.  No soul.  Barely any storyline.  Shallow, flat-as-a-pancake character development... there is just NOTHING good about this trilogy.  I honestly worry for any young person reading this book.  I worry that they'll find this unhealthy relationship model romantic and I further worry that they'll think there's something wrong with them when they fail to have an orgasm when their significant other suggests it verbally.

The fact that I hear that women are reading these books and getting all hot and bothered for their husbands troubles me deeply.

Has anyone else read this?


Friday, May 11, 2012

Are You Mom Enough?

The Time magazine cover has really taken my Twitter timeline by storm today.  I mean, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!  So many people are upset about it.  I read the question, "Are you mom enough," six million times, dirtied with denotations of disgust and offense.   I had to check out the links and see what all the fuss was about.

When I finally saw the cover, I thought, okay... so where is the problem?

I get it, I guess.   This very attractive and mainstream, all-american, woman is on the cover of Time magazine breastfeeding a child who is not a baby with a caption that reads, "Are You Mom Enough?"  The boy in the photograph is 3 years old.  Many Americans do not extend their breastfeeding beyond six months, I believe.  But, is THAT the problem?  Is it really possible that a photograph of a woman breastfeeding a three year old has made people this upset?  It CAN'T be.

Is it that the title of the article asks, "Are You Mom Enough?"  The title itself is a rather inflated and combative question which implies that a parent who does not breastfeed beyond the first year is inferior to mothers who practice this tenet of attachment parenting.  But isn't that just so transparent?  I mean, the title is clearly designed to make people feel defensive?    If I saw an article with the same title and a woman with a briefcase and suit dropping her leashed child off at a daycare, I wouldn't be offended.  I would see through it, just as I see through this.

Everyone, parent or not, is aware of the movement toward breastfeeding.  And, of course, we all know that some people extend their breastfeeding.  Is the problem with the Time magazine cover that it featured a woman who is attractive?  Is it that she looks so normal? Is the problem that any common, heterosexual, mainstream man pictured himself marrying a woman like this at some point?  Is it that she looks so healthy? Should a woman who extends her breastfeeding be easily identified as a freak?  Should she wear some sort of extreme uniform, maybe have six inches of hair beneath her armpits and be 40 lbs overweight?  Should she have on birkenstocks and a shirt that says, "I'd rather go naked than wear fur?"  Would that be easier because the majority of us could say, "people like THAT do such strange things...?"

I mean, facts are facts.  Breastfeeding is healthy.  Children who are offered extended breastfeeding are healthier, smarter, thinner and friendlier as a whole.  These things are true.  Tried, tested and proven.  Are formula fed kids unhealthy?  No. Of course not.  Are children who were only offered breast milk for their first year going to be unhealthy, dumb, fat and unhappy?  Maybe, but the cause won't be that they were weened too soon.

Here's what is NOT healthy.  Feeding your kids McDonalds chicken nuggets.  I have seen many commercials that certainly feature three year old children poppin' nuggets into their mouths, smiling and saying, "I'm luvin' it," without anyone so much as raising an eyebrow.  And do you know what, I DON'T CARE.

Guess what?  

I don't care how ANYONE chooses to feed their child.

Do you know why?

Because it's none of my business.

And it's none of yours either.

There, I said it.

It seems that breastfeeding is such  a hot topic and I just can't seem to understand the heart of it.  I mean, really... I do not understand.  Is this an I-am-better-than-you-and-work-harder-at-parenting-and-love-my-children-more-because I breastfeed thing?  Is it another way to take power away from women by convincing women that we are our own enemies?  Really?  Again?  Is it a sexuality thing?  Is it a those-boobies-are-made-for-grown-men-and-how-is-he-possibly-going-to-want-to engage-in-any-sexual-behavior-if-he-risks-getting-a-mouth-full-of-milk?  I don't understand.  Do you?  This is too complicated for me to wrap my head around.

Because it's so healthy, women are pressured by doctors to breastfeed.  All of the literature suggests that if you really love your baby, you'll breastfeed no matter how difficult it is.  Struggling? Call the le leche legue.  Still struggling?  Pay a lactation consultant  to come into your house morning, noon and night.  Sit in the chair.  Relax.  Don't' get up.  Don't give up.  Stick with it.  Mastitis.  Feed through it.  Chapped, bleeding nipples?  Feed through it.  And never give formula.

But, let's face it, very few people do this.  Being a new mother is hard enough.  Formula isn't unhealthy and unless you are very confident, breastfeeding can mean being stuck at home until you are partially supplementing with baby food.  Breastfeeding means never knowing how many ounces your baby is drinking.  Breastfeeding means pain.  Breastfeeding means dirty looks. It means nursing in the bathroom of your favorite restaurant.  It means, struggling with your baby as she pulls the nursing cloth off your your chest because she can't breath and if she can't breathe she can't eat and if she can't eat she cries and if she cries you are getting more dirty looks.  It means, being asked to leave the library.  It means being asked to get off the plane.   It means being asked to leave the store.  Breastfeeding means rude remarks and judgments about your parenting from people who you don't know.

For many mom's. breastfeeding is a near impossibility.  And for most of them, giving formula instead of breast milk feels like the ultimate failure.  There is a division.  People who are breastfeeding and people who are not.  Both are judging and being judged, by each other and by just about everyone else.

As women,  as mothers, we do not have it easy.

So, why the fuck don't we just all go ahead and leave each other alone?

You know, it's amazing to me that so many children are actually being abused in some way but no one says a damn thing because they don't want to interfere with the disciplinary choices of other parents, yet no one blinks an eye about making a judgment about how people choose to feed their children.

It doesn't make much sense to me.

If anyone can help me understand this issue, I welcome it.




Friday, March 23, 2012

Grout Bully

In a world of stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops (which I have no gripe with) I was sort of charmed by the vintage kitchen in my new house. When we initially looked at this house, the kitchen was the room that really sold me. It is probably original to the house. It has adorable cabinets, tons of storage, ceiling hooks for pots and pans and some decorative tiles and hardware that is fruited and cute as a 1940's button.

On the flip side, it also has WHITE TILE FLOOR, which has become the bane of my existence. I am going to stop myself from complaining about my kitchen floor further because I could honestly go on and on and on about it and I am sure that you don't care.

As charming as my kitchen is, it came with the most disgusting grout that I have ever seen in my life. I immediately vowed to get the grout clean. At the suggestion of my friends I scrubbed and scrubbed and magic erased and steel wooled and much to my dismay... nothing worked. The grout remained filthy and black.

Then, I remembered a tv commercial that I saw, where people effortlessly made their kitchens and bathrooms sparkle with the magic of Grout Bully. It looked like a really fun way to spend an afternoon, so we happily purchased our Grout Bully and waited (and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited) for it to arrive. Around two weeks after recovering from the daily disappointment of a groutbullyless mailbox, I asked my husband to look into it... and just a short 6 weeks later, I received an excited text from my husband saying, "It looks like you'll get your Grout Bully today!!!!" I sat by the window waiting for the mailman all day long, daydreaming about that little cardboard shipping box. Imagining myself transforming that filthy grout with determination and satisfaction. And finally, the moment came. My Grout Bully arrived. I set my children up with their homework and got to work the in the kitchen.

Here were my experiences.

The nastiness of my kitchen counter top before:
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Bully!
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Applied
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Let me take a moment to say that if you do use grout bully do much smaller spaces than this. It had dried so much that getting it off was a huge hassle and gave me a full on upper body work out. So, unless you want to skip your cardio and arms at the gym that day and burn several thousand calories while bullying your grout, I'd recommend doing small sections at a time.

After
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In the end, it's not perfect, but it's better.


Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Bunny's 7th Birthday Pictures!

Unfortunately, some of these pictures are weird sizes and I'm too tired to fix them now! I had to download a few of them from Jay's facebook page and they saved in a weird size. But, you get the picture!!!!

A few Gifts!

These are handmade in Philadelphia from reclaimed sweater material and stuffed with bamboo. I had a difficult time deciding which one to go with, but finally took home the monkey.
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Also, we grabbed two of Starlights as well! Bun has been very into her room lately and these are a great, colorful addition!
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On Bunny's actual birthday we had a little cake for her and she opened her gifts!
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This morning we woke up, had breakfast and headed to New York City. Our initial plan was to picnic in Central Park after going on a spree at the American Girl Store, but the weather thought differently. We were really fortunate to get a reservation at the American Girl Cafe and though I initially scoffed at the prices, I have to admit that I left impressed. The experience was wonderful!!!!!

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They had a little box of questions sitting on the table and Bunny wowed me with her reading ability and comprehension!

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Also, the food was delish!

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And then we went to see the Imagination Movers. Thanks to my bestie Siet, the Movers left an autographed poster at will-call for Bunny that said, "Happy Birthday Bunny. Think Big!" And included all of their signatures! Bunny went nuts for it!
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And Finally, we came home and Bunny was able to put on her pj's and match them with her new American Girl Doll Lisa.

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This was such a fun birthday. Bunny says that it was way better than a party and I have to agree 100%. This year we were all really able to celebrate. There was no stress or running around. Just lots of fun and love.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Something That Concerns Me

I wasted two hours of my life last night watching Sex In The City 2. Is there a more annoying character than Samantha? Her awesome wardrobe and fantastic figure simply do not compensate for the fact that she NEEDS TO SPEAK LIKE THAT!

But here is something that concerns me even more:

When did Sara Jessica Parker become Bette Midler?

To the left it's Better Midler in The Rose.

To the right it's SJP in Sex in The City.

I rest my case.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Same Idol Different Judge

I'm half way through the new American Idol with its fancy, famous judges.

It's exactly what I expected.

Now, I'm a long-going AI fan. I know that it's cheesy and I know that it's skewed and I do not care. If you know me than you know how much I love pop-culture and it doesn't get much more carbonated than Idol. Also, I've never met a singing competition that I didn't love. Admittedly, I am a bigger fan of X Factor and I'll, without a doubt, be counting the days till it premieres next year. But, until then, American Idol is like a big, syrupy, sweet, non-caloric January treat.

And this season is no exception.

I got really caught up in, "Who can fill Simon's shoes?"

The answer, of course, is NO ONE.

But, I am completely in love with Steven Tyler in the exact same way that I was completely in love with Brett Michaels. He's a weird, old, rocker guy who fancies himself a hot tamale and I think that he's got staying power. I also really like the fact that he reminds me a little bit of Paula Abdul. And, I fucking LOVE me some Paula Abdul. As for JLo, I think that she's a good addition to the team. She's fun and spunky and likable. She's not at all pretentious and I get the impression that her stint on AI makes her feel "connected" to the common folk. Now that I write it, I guess that is pretense defined. But, whatever. I like her.

Poor Randy. I don't even know what to say about him. Same old Randy. Less Dawg... and I get the sad feeling that his eyes have become bizarre, lifeless, mirrors of shallow heartlessness. But he's the one guy from American idol who still has a job. So kudos to him and his hefty paycheck, I guess.

I will definitely be tuning into American Idol this season. I'll let you know how it goes.

Monday, January 3, 2011

30 Rock

As I get older I feel that I have more and more in common with Liz Lemon, which I'm pretty certain happens to 90% of women.


Thursday, December 23, 2010

RPatz Near Miss?

Big Green Earth Store just opened up a second store in Liberty Place. Liberty place is located in the fancy party of town Rittenhouse Square.

T called me earlier today to tell me that Robert Pattinson was in the store (for anyone who knows me, you understand that this is A REALLY BIG DEAL because I've spent the last few years trying to talk myself out of daring to dream the dream where I show up on the set of some Stephanie Meyer based movie set with a demented look in my eye, slinging my unmentionables at a boy who is young enough to be my son). Further, T says that RPatz bought exactly the same gift for whatserface that I bought for Jay. Clearly this exemplifies the FACT that he and I were meant to be. I mean, it's SHOCKING how much RPatz and I obviously have in common based on this mutual purchase. We. are. nearly. the. same. person.

So, though I feel robbed of the opportunity to meet and likely humiliate myself in front of Robert Pattinson, I am grateful to have escaped the day with my pride and marriage all in tact.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Another Action Packed Saturday Night

I love the X Factor UK and I can't wait until the American version takes off! Last night while I was watching, my girls were on their computers playing the barbie fashion game (which they could likely do for hours without arguing or complaining). Apparently, Paige Richardson is a big hit with my children. Here is what they did during his performance on Elton John night!

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Speak Now

Pop culture is one of my deep loves in life. I loved Lost. I watch Gossip Girl and Americas Next Top Model. I pick up Us Weekly and read Simon Cowell's autobiography. I devoured the Twilight series in a week and have been sitting on my last of the Sookie Stackhouse novels. Britney Spears, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Selema Gomez, Demi Lovato and Miley Cyrus are all in my ipod. I'm a popular culture junkie.

One artist that my children love (especially Lila) is Taylor Swift. We have both her self titled album and her second record, Fearless. I sort of love Taylor Swift, but until yesterday my love for her had nothing to do with her music. I just think that she's a nice girl and great role model for my impressionable five and six year old daughters. Though a few songs have adult messages, she also sings about the value of coming from a great family and about how much she loves her parents. Most of her songs emphasize loving yourself and having self-respect. Also, she's not stumbling out of Hollywood bars and clubs every night. Though her personal life has been a bit of a spectacle, I get the feeling that Taylor Swift is the sort of girl who spends more time alone in her bedroom with a guitar than she does anything else. Because she's a super-star, this is a choice that she makes and I respect that.

Yesterday we got the album Speak Now, which was released on October 25th. We spent our trips to and from New Jersey listening to all the songs on her new cds. Previous to hearing the entire cd I heard her first single "Mine" and was completely unimpressed. After listening to the whole album I have to admit that Mine is still my least favorite track. That mentioned, I LOVE this album.

I love that Taylor wrote every song on the album "all by herself." I love that the songs are honest and that she's opened up a bit about who inspired them (Camilla Belle, John Mayer, Kanye West, Joe Jonas, Taylor Lautner). I love that her songs are confessional. I love how incredibly well written they are lyrically (particularly in comparison to her last two albums). I can't believe the growth that I see in her as a writer and an artist. The songs are interesting, heartbreaking, storytelling, diverse and engaging.

Here are a few of my favorites from the album: