Misogynist of the Day

Welcome to a brand new feature on the Blog is the New Mom Jeans Blog!! The Misogynist of the Day!!

Our inaugural honor actually goes to two people - yes ladies and gents, it's a tie. Drumroll, please...

Misogynist number one: Whosoever was the asshole who greenlighted the Alvin & the Chipmunks cover of the song "Bad Day."




Misogynist numero two: I'm so mad at the Chipmunks guy that I forgot.

I smell an Oscar

I'm going to go ahead and call it now. The Best Picture of 2010 is Burlesque. How could it not be?



It's times like these I wish I was a gay man, so I could go to opening night in drag. But as which character? Cher or Xtina? Oh, it's been keeping me up at night.

I need to get my hands on the screenplay.

The best part of being a stay at home mom is all the time to myself

I never would have guessed that being a mom would mean yearning for the carefree days of my youth when I could dig around in my own eyeball for a piece of contact lens without interruption. Yet here we are.

I wear daily disposable lenses. Most of the time they are great and I love them. But every once in a while they splinter into little plastic shards upon contact with my eyeball, at which point they become Piece of Shit Stupid Effing Contacts. You may have a  similar product around your own home.

Funny story. About a week after Marlo was born, in some sort of sleep deprived haze I hear is common for new parents, I lost a piece of a contact in my eye. Or at least I was pretty sure I did. I couldn't tell for sure because I didn't remember what the thing I took out of my eye looked like. But my eye felt weird. It felt like there was some sort of foreign object involved. But I wasn't sure.

I went to the eye doctor. It wasn't my usual doctor but one of his associates I had never met before. He acted a little bit like I was batshit crazy, a little bit like he was going to catch something from me seeing as I was a woman only a few days postpartum. Then again, I remember shoulder checking a door frame for no reason other than I didn't quite have the strength to walk right, so maybe he was on to something.

ANYWAY. The best part was he told me, "now, this is going to be a little bit uncomfortable, but I have to roll your eyelid inside out." What I said out loud was "okay," but what I thought in my head was "Dude. Don't worry about it. A kid with a fourteen inch head just came out my vagina. I'll be fine with your stupid little eyelid games. You pussy." So he did the eyelid thing, poked all around, never found the contact. He assured me it probably wasn't in there, but if it was, it would work its way out and not, say, migrate up into my brain and give me a stroke.

SIX WEEKS LATER. Sitting in my bed, rubbing my eye...what's that big nasty thing I just felt fall onto my cheek? WHY, it's a piece of contact. I'm telling you, I never felt more vindicated in all my life. I made phone calls. Do you know I actually went in to the eye doctor to tell him that I just got that piece of contact out of my eye? I mean, I was there to buy glasses but I made sure to tell him. Thus proving that I am not crazy? I guess.

I thought of this story as the stupid piece of shit effing contact lens broke apart upon insertion to my eye yesterday, as Marlo sat screaming on my bed, the only thing calming her my presence in her line of sight. It's stressful enough to dig around your own eyeball for a piece of transparent plastic, nevermind ratcheting it up with screaming infant. It makes you do crazy things like start putting something in your eye that you are pretty sure is eyedrops without actually checking first.

Thankfully, it was the eyedrops. The offending plastic was located. Marlo was subdued. I lived to fight another day.

Science!

Remember that tomato I mentioned? The one that had been sitting on the counter since before we left town?

Behold the suspicious fruit.

Well, there it is. Looks remarkably healthy, right? Remarkably not at all like you would expect a tomato to look a full three weeks after it came home from the store, right? If you read my previous post RE: this tomato, you know that I was itchin' to cut it open and confirm my hypothesis that it was filled with all sorts of black puss and/or other signs of rot and disgustingness.

WELL. Imagine my crestfallen little self when I cut it open and it looked like so. Perfectly normal! My disappointment quickly turned to paranoia. What sort of weird ass genetically modified fruit is this thing? Am I just completely ignorant in the ways of the tomato? Is this normal? I have a little pint of heirloom cherry tomatoes sitting on the counter that I bought 5 days ago, and I have to weed out the moldy squishy ones on a daily basis to save the still-edible ones. So why would this one be fine?

But then the happy ending. On closer inspection, I noticed that a bunch of the tomato seeds were SPROUTING ON THE INSIDE. Looks like a bunch of creepy maggots. Hypothesis CONFIRMED. The tomato was, in fact, disgusting inside after all. A victory for me and for science.

And yes, this is the sort of thing I do for fun.

It's all fun and games 'til the baby gets salmonella

Let's count all the ways I'm endangering my child's life in this picture, shall we?

Now, before you take any umbrage, let me assure you that she did not actually ingest any raw cookie dough. That I am aware of. She was just really, really in to grabbing that spoon. She actually got a hold of it while I was still in the butter and white sugar only phase, and got butter and sugar everrrrrrywhere. Husband was none too concerned about getting it cleaned up. "But she'll be all butter-hands!" I protested, to which he replied, "better than butter-face!" Hearty har har. Such a wit, that one.

On to child-endangerment, part two. Look at how perilously close to the edge that Bebe Pod is! I actually didn't realize that at the time, and was sort of shocked when I saw the pictures. Wait, don't tell me - she shouldn't be up there at all, right? Right. I know. If it makes you feel any better, she's on the floor now. Watching TV, as a matter of fact. Damn, I can't win.

Two days in a row! Take that!

So I was lying in bed this morning, willing Marlo to go back to sleep, and I had all SORTS of ideas for blog posts. I had like 10 of em that I was going to start as drafts, and then bazaam! post all the time.

Needless to say, instead I had to actually get up with the baby and, you know, take care of her. Then I fell back asleep. Then poof! no more blog ideas.

Oooh, I do remember one. I have this tomato that has been sitting on the counter since before we left. Somehow it looks all fine and dandy on the outside, but I bet if I cut into it I would find all sorts of nasty horrors of moldy tomato guts. Being a true scientist, I plan to test my hypothesis and share with you the results. Now if that's not enough to get you to follow me, I don't know what is!

Speaking of following me, you may notice I added the "subscribe to" gadget over on the right hand side. This is because I was approached by a fan while on my travels who suggested I should add it. Got to keep the fans happy!

My carbon footprint would make Al Gore cry

Okay, so I didn't spend my whole trip blogging. Sue me. But you should know that I am a licensed attorney in the state of Washington and my specialty is frivolous, made up lawsuits. Full disclosure and all.

The trip went well, although a certain baby who shall remain nameless did cry for most of the five plus hour flight home. We've been hard at work correcting our sleep schedules, laundering the laundry and unpacking the five metric tons of crap we carted around for two weeks. I really wish I was more of a hippie and had just done the trip with like a sling and some hemp products that all fit in one carry-on. Instead we had two suitcases each, a pack n' play, two carry-ons each and two boxes we shipped home. Not to mention the stroller and the car seat. Like I said, five metric tons of crap. I used to pride myself on my light packing abilities, so having to cart around all this baby gear is a bit of a blow to the sense of self. And we won't even get in to the minivan we had to rent to lug all that stuff to and fro.

So now I guess we just enjoy the calm before the storm that is the Holidays. Although there's not much calm to be had - Santa is arriving at the local ritzy mall on November 19 - the weekend BEFORE Thanksgiving. Two weeks from now! I'm not sure I'm ready for this.