Stumbling & Bumbling

I Wisk it would go away...

You guys know I love facebook dontcha? I have written about how it let me reconnect with one of my greatest childhood friends, and I use it everyday to speak with friends and family close to home and far overseas. I play games on it and post pictures of my little family for all to see. I use it to announce when I have imparted yet another dollop of wisdom upon the world when I post something new here. In short, I am a Facebook addict. Unfortunately for me, having so many childhood friends on Facebook means that there are lots of pictures of me out there that I would rather....burn forget. Lets look at this little beauty my beloved friend SR posted of me from waaay back in the day:

Yeah wouldn't you want this picture of you up for the internets to see? No? I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND! I mean for the love of all thing fashion related, I was wearing a denim shirt that exactly matched the denim wash of my jeans. Lets not forget what I looked like with bangs, people. BANGS. My blinding white Nike's and blood red lipstick just complete the overall crap photo.  Enter WISK'S new Facebook app: Wisk-It™. Check it out here: www.wisk-it.com/blogs. Basically you can use it to search tagged, untagged and de-tagged photos of yourself from your friends albums. You then use the app to send them a message asking to delete the picture. They have premade cute messages that nicely ask your friend to remove the pic or you can include a personalized message, something to the tune of, "I swear to Jeebus, if you don't delete that crap pic of me I will come to your house and throw molotov cocktails at it". Or something much lower key like " DO YOU HATE ME? TAKE THE PIC DOWN!"

It's a useful app, much more useful than some of the other apps out there that let you, I dunno, see what you would look like with a shaved head or some such nonsense. (Read: I would NOT look good with a shaved head) I doubt SR will take the picture down, seeing as how she was laughing with complete manic glee when she found it and posted it and tagged it for all the world to see. I will just keep sending her requests with the Wisk-It™ app until she crumbles and removes it. You hear me SR??? I WON'T STOP!

I love you.

Thanks to all the nice folks over at Wisk for this great app. Click below to go to their Facebook page and download the app!

In Which I Rant

A rundown of the articles that made my eyes bug out of my head at least 4 inches, cartoon style:

From the NY daily news - The Sexualization of little girls' Halloween costumes. AY DIOS MIO. 

Would you let your daughter wear this?

My fears of someday having a girl aside, this is absolutely one of the most ridiculos trends that has emerged lately. (I will save my rant about the toddler beauty pageants for another day, because then I will have an aneurysm and wont be able to write the rest of this article.) Even with my boys, I see the trend in the general media to have them grow up faster and be exposed to things that no little kid should be exposed to. I see movies targeted to kids that are better suited for adults, commercials on TV that are sexed up - even on the kids channels -  and all of it pushing my little boys into a world that they aren't ready for. I want to keep them little boys  - I want them to enjoy their childhood. Any parent that would consent to buying a costume like this for their little girls should really be charged with neglect. 

Another story that caught my eye was one about Christian Louboutin, the famous shoe-designer who has been asked to create a new Barbie doll and who has stated that Barbie has "cankles" and is asking the toymaker to further alter their already unrealistic doll to give her slimmer legs and ankles. Yet another wonderful message to little girls of the world. Then we have Karl Lagerfeld who just a few years ago looked like this: 

saying that "No one wants to see curvy women. You've got fat mothers with their bags of chips sitting in front of the television and saying that thin models are ugly." Chips? Hell yes Karl! I looove chips. Fuck  you, Karl.

The same article that featured those words of wisdom from that fan weilding weirdo and Christian Louboutin's  exaggeration of Barbie's "cankles" also featured a picture of Lizzie Miller, an actress who weighs in at a healthy 180 lbs as shown in Glamour magazine photo shoot sans, well anything. God bless her, because she has the body so many of us have.  

See that belly? I have that - as do so many others. She is a beautiful, healthy, normal woman and I applaud her and Glamour magazine for showing a real woman in its pages.

To that end I also applaud Dove for creating self-esteem workshops for girls to help little girls and teen girls realize that they can be so much more than what the media blitz tells them they can be. Check out the video below and to learn more about the program go to: http://campaignforrealbeauty.com/

After watching the video below, just think about this: The onslaught shown doesn't just affect young girls image of themselves, but also affects little boys like mine - and they grow up with an unrealistic idea of what a woman should look and act like.

/end rant

Searched

I am a freak. I can't believe I didn't know this already, and perhaps you did, seeing as how you are reading my blog and have probably read it before. Why didn't you tell me that I was a freak that is writing not an innocent "mom-blog" but rather a blog that is full of EROTICA? How did this escape my attention? Now I am running through my past entries and seeing them in a new light, specifically I am seeing them through an EROTICA-infused light. Ohmigod didn't I entitle on post "Adult Themed"? The clues have always been there, haven't they? I am staggered. 

What brought this realization that I am an author of erotica was a wonderful little gadget called SiteMeter. If you scroll down a bit, you will see a little button for Sitemeter on the right hand side of the page. What does Sitemeter do? Here I will explain: Sitemeter provides tracking and and counter services so I can see how many hits I have gotten, and from which part of the world people are currently logged onto and reading one of my formerly thought to be inane and now known to be EROTIC posts. Its nifty and good for my ego when I see that I have gotten a couple of thousand hits from all over the U.S and from far flung places like Japan, India and even a hit from Antarctica. I wonder how in the heck these people have found my blog and sitemeter tells me. Often, I get hits when I comment on other peoples blogs and enter my web address; that is pretty much the standard way anyone gets traffic. I also have my tried and true followers who check in everyday for a new post and who don't hesitate to berate me (lovingly) when I have been slacking and haven't posted anything in weeks with comments like "WTF Gina, get on the ball and write something funny already! Make me laugh bitch!!! (cracking whip)

Other than being directed to my blog from my comments on other sites, Sitemeter also lets me know when I have been found via a search engine - even going so far as to tell me exactly what string was used. Many times its something completely innocent like "mom, blog, poop, babies, toddlers, books, World of Warcraft..." etc. Lately though, a darker theme to the redirects has emerged. Instead of babies and toddlers I see that people have found my blog through some sexually charged search strings.

Witness:

1. Visitor 1,195 found my blog through a Google search string that consisted of "bathtime for big boys humiliation story" Oh. My. God. I mean I know that I have used all those words in my posts but never did I think that I was subliminally writing about "bathtime for big boys [and their] humiliation stories". I am glad that the big boys referred to are clean but am sad that they felt humiliated. Forgive me! I knew not what I was writing!

2. Visitor 1,895 also used Google (doesn't everybody?) and found this here blog by typing in "Testicle Stomping". Now I know that I am writing not only erotica, but VIOLENT erotica. Its been a real eye opener. I wonder if Anne Rice, writing as  Anne Roquelaure (her erotica- writing alter ego), often pops into Google and types in "Testicle Stomping" to read my blog for new tips for her latest erotica-based series. I mean will she write something like the erotic Cinderella story she wrote before only this time it will feature a mom blogger that has a secret erotic life? Will I get royalties? Oh wait, Anne Rice has found God or something and is no longer much fun. Poop.

3. Visitor 2,004 found my blog using google blogsearch - proving to me that that person was indeed looking for erotic blogs - by typing in "embarrassing skirt story". Ok, not so bad right? I did indeed post about an embarrassing skit story just a few days ago. Sadly, the searcher didn't stop there because that same user (I can tell from the ISP) also found my blog by typing in "humiliation spanking bad girl skirt moan". People, am I writing about moaning? Who exactly was moaning in any of my posts? Do I have secret posts that I have forgotten about or that I have secreted away in the endless posts that highlight my complaints of poop, early morning wake ups, fevers and strange conversations? 

Maybe this is my true calling and I should start writing erotica. I seem to have a gift for it. Now I am wondering exactly what kind of traffic I will get because of the use of the words "Erotica", "VIOLENT erotica"and "moaning" featured in this entry. Uh-oh.

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, REPEAT NO EVIL

Yes I am back again with yet another embarrassing tale that can be used as further proof that I will be winning no 'Mother Of The Year Award' for good old 2009.

My potty mouth is legendary, well at least to me it is. I am absurdly proud of the fact that I can work a curse into just about any thought and sentence at the drop of a hat. Wait, let me redact that last statement, or at least edit it to meet today's needs; I am absurdly proud of the fact that I used to be able to work a curse into just about any thought and sentence at the drop of a hat.

Now that I have 2 children whose little brains are made up of tiny recording components that seem to capture only the worst things that come, unbidden, out of my mouth when I am in a frenzy of finding lost keys (they were in the freezer), cleaning up dog vomit (Dog: Why must you always vomit on the rug? Why? What is wrong with the hardwood floors or the easy to clean linoleum?) or picking poop out of my EYELASHES when Seba sharted as I was changing his diaper. (The unbidden word that flew out of my mouth then was, I believe, "FUUUCK!")

So getting back on track, I have a potty mouth that I have curbed to a certain degree around the kids but which I seem to let loose on many an occasion - the contents of which are immediately downloaded and saved for future reference in two toddler brains. Aside from my own slips, Mike doesn't have an angel’s vocabulary per se, and then there are the songs on the radio. I can’t keep up!

Case in point:

1) The "Coño" incident

2) The incident that occurred in the car yesterday after he picked up the kids from the sitter's house as related to me by Mike this morning:

Mike: So this douche cuts me off and I have to swerve a bit to avoid him hitting the car, so I say "FUCKING ASSHOLE!" and then I hear Nicky echoing me from the backseat "Yes, dada. What a fucking asshole. That's right! " (Nicky ends most of his sentences with a "that's right!")

Me: Sheeee-it. We have to stop cursing around them.

Seba: (standing behind me unnoticed) "Sheeeee-it!"

Aside from copy cat incidents of the spoken variety there are the incidents where the children will re-enact something they have seen their father do. I am placing this one squarely on Mike since I don’t go around lifting up the skirt of his dress and saying "Wooooo - Mommy's butt!" in front of the boys. Because damn, Mike in a skirt is a scary thought. So, yes, Mike felt compelled to do this to me today in front of both boys and now they think it’s just so funny, so hysterical to do this to me all the time. It didn't help that they were chastised in a half-assed manner by their widely-grinning father who wasn’t exactly oozing any dissatisfaction at their antics.

Now to sum up what I have learned from these experiences:

1) Make sure the kids are finished pooping before removing diaper and leaning in close to wipe poop residue from little behinds.

2) Stop cursing.

3) Do not listen to the radio anymore or let Seba happily sing along to the unrated version of “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas, who have sneakily thrown in the S-word all over the place.

3) Do not wear skirts while in public with my kids. Ever.

Home Sweet Home

Holy crap there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We finally sold our house, packed up the whole damned thing, threw out about 16 metric tons of books and old baby toys and moved into our new place.

Going from a house to an apartment wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, especially since we found one hell of a big apartment. Let me state here that unequivocally, I never, ever want to move out of here. I mean yes its a really nice apartment and yes I like the neighborhood but its not for those reasons that I never want to move again. Basically I just refuse to pack and pack and pack and then acquire several hernias actually hoisting, sliding and attempting to use telekinesis to move my heavy assed furniture, only to then unpack, unpack, unpack and arrange the furniture into new and not so fun configurations in the new place. FUCK THAT. I want to win the damned lottery and then be able to walk away from everything I own and be to move into a new place that will be fully furnished. With a pool. And a cabana boy.

I did get a little spoiled living in a house, not having neighbors in such close proximity to me and mine was nice. Getting used to having other people only a dividing wall away is going to take a bit of time and patience. Luckily we didn't move into a big apartment building - this is only a three floor, three apartment dwelling. Still, having to live on the second floor beneath the woman who either has two peg legs or just is one of those people that walks by driving their heels into the floor as hard as humanly possible at 5:45 AM is something that I need to wrap my head around, and I must resist the the murderous compulsion to go upstairs when she commences her stomping and wrap her head around something. Something shaped like a bat. Ahem.

Other than "hard walker" everything has been hunky-dory and we have gotten into our new routine pretty easily.  So there you have my little update. I'd like to thank all the swell fellas that helped us move,  I'd like to extend my apologies for all  the heavy furniture causing many of you to develop ETS (Exploded Testicle Syndrome). Keep in mind that you don't need two testicles to create enough sperm to someday father children. I would also like to thank U-Haul for firing all those rude motherfuckers that were working there the LAST time we had to go in to rent a moving van and replacing said motherfuckers with a crop of truly nice and helpful attendants.

So tell me all you apartment dwellers - whats been your best/worst/funniest experience with a neighbor?

(As a side note I am using typepad's spell checker and I find it absolutley hilarious that the word "Holy" isn't recognized but the word "Motherfucker" is. I love you typepad.)

Easily Freaked Out: Baby Commercial Edition

You know what completely freaks me out? Commercials with babies. Well, ok, not all commercials that feature babies, just the ones where they superimpose a baby head on someone else's body or those freaky-assed commercials where the babies speak like adults...those I really, really hate.

So imagine my horror struck look when I came across the new Evian Rollerskating Babies commercial. Call me a monster but if I saw a park full of unbelievably well coordinated infants on roller skates I would run away screaming my fool head off.

So now you know yet another weird fact about me. Why don't you reply to this post and tell me something that totally freaks YOU out? Huh? Huh?

P.S. The scene where the babies roller skate toward the chain link fence and then proceed to launch themselves at said fence and hang there like a pack of demented-demon-possessed-baby-monkeys makes me break out in goosebumps. Seriously.

P.P.S.- We are finally closing on our house and are in the middle of moving so please accept my abject apologies that I have been MIA these last few weeks. I will be back soon with many tales of how much I FUCKING HATE PACKING. GAAAAAAAHHHHHHH.

P.P.P.S -**I have just learned that the one and only Asian baby in the commercial is frequent commenter KC's  son who we will call "B". So, um let me amend my comments to say "Those damned babies freak me out with the exception of the adorable "B" who at a mere few months of life can skate circles around my old ass. He is in no way a 'demented-demon-possessed-baby-monkey'. I love you KC!**

Swine on a Train

I have never, up to this point, been one of those moms that totally freaks out if her kids gets dirty, or eats dirt (i'm looking at YOU, Seba); one of those moms that continuously douses everything in Lysol and freaks out if her kid does get the flu. Lord knows we have had our share of the plague in our home, kids get sick - it's a fact of life. (By the way, just to clear things up I DO clean the house and enforce hand washing rules and yes, I do clean the kids toys and such, it's just that I don't totally freak out and avoid all situations where my kid might possibly get a cold). Iam a conscientious parent in that if my kids do have a cold, I will stay home with them and not let them go out and spread their plague to other kids. Still, they go to the babysitters and swap germs that occasionally lead to colds with the other kids there. I can deal with that.

Enter the Swine Flu. We live in NYC and are very close to the outbreak source here - in fact, my own dear brother works in the school where about 20% of the students came down with the flu after a senior trip to Mexico. Luckily he didn't catch it and hasn't been further exposed  since they shut the school down for a week in order to clean it from top to bottom. [On a side noteI am wondering just how many secret weed/alcohol stash's they might uncover in their cleaning process- heh.]

I was riding the subway this morning and  was lucky to be sitting 2 people away from a lady obviously suffering from a cold. Now, we've all seen the pictures of masks being handed out on th streets of Mexico and I thought that would be a good thing to do here in NY - especially for us who have to ride the subway to get to and from our jobs. Boy did I wish I had one this morning when the lady (and I want to use another term that rhymes with witch, but I won't..yet) started to sneeze. Now, I know sometimes a sneeze can catch you unaware and just explode out of you with no warning, but this lady was coughing and sneezing regularly. WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO COVER HER MOTHERFUCKING MOUTH. I mean, come on. You cannot tell me that with all the damned news coverage this is getting she had no way of knowing that the public is a bit jittery when it comes to catching the swine flu. But there she sat, spreading her plague,,, not even attempting to shield her mouth and nose with her hand - much less a napkin. Swine flu or no swine flu, her total disregard of possibly infecting  of everyone else on that incredibly crowded train really really bothered me. That's why when someone shouted at her to cover her mouth, I agreed loudly.  I am not a germaphobe, but I don't want to take her germs with me when I go home and possibly get my family sick.

I am going home now and I will try not to worry overmuch, but I will sure as shit be picking up a box of masks at the drug store on my way to the subway. Armed with those and my hand sanitizer - I venture forth.

By the way - where can one procure the materials needed to construct the bubble that Jake Gyllenhaal lived in in that movie "Bubble Boy"? What? I am just asking!

Observations

1- Riding the subway can be annoying at times, but it can be made exponentially worse when someone sits next (snap!) to you and (Snap! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!!) SNAPStheir damned (snap!) gum for the (Snap snap!!!) entire 30 (snap!) Minute (SNAP!!!!) trip. (snap snap snap snap snap snapsnapsnapsnap!)

2- No matter how little a child has eaten, the incredible size of their poop never fails to amaze a parent - even a battle hardened one.

3-Little kids fall, a lot. Its pretty damned funny.

4-Little kids don't like to be laughed at, but will hoot with laughter while they watch you tumble down a flight of steps.

5-Cooking shows are depressing because you will never, ever be able to have a kitchen like that.

6-The Twilight series is incredibly addictive, and most of the women that read it will find themselves wishing a vampire would love them at some point in their lives.

7-Men will always be fixated on the size of their penis.  They start very early, as in a few weeks old type early- trying to lengthen it by pulling on the damned thing like a ripcord for a lawnmower. They never stop.

8-One of the most wonderful things about being an adult is the ability to rationalize having a Dove chocolate bar for breakfast with the following logic: "Because I am a grownup and I CAN. NO ONE CAN STOP ME."

What are your observations?

Picture Time and the UFC

Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone and Christmas is fast approaching the inevitable wrestling match known as "The Holiday Portrait" is upon us yet again. Oh yes parents, prepare!

As I type these words I am cringing at the thought that I will have to wrestle TWO unwilling participants this year. Last year wasn't easy- even though Seb was nothing more than a Buddha like lump of baby clay that I posed somewhat easily; Nicky wasn't what you would call amenable to the cause. Still, I got some decent shots and we went with a rather unusual main picture for our cards because, dudes, how cute is this?

This year, my baby-clay boy has morphed into a full time UFC fighting champ who will alternately resort to kicking his poor father in the nads and/or using the Vulcan neck pinch on me in order to flee. The kid fights dirty and I will have to beat him at his own game.

Taking my cue from "Gorillas in the Mist" I have been observing said "Dirty Fighter" and plotting my moves in accordance to his habits. Please note that Nicky, a.k.a. "The Whiner", isn't a piece of cake either, but is more open to bribery and threats. Dirty Fighter is still immune to the powers of threat, persuasion and bribery, mostly because he doesn't care what nonsense we are babbling about at any given moment. Therefore, "Dirty Fighter" is the focal point for all my plans.

Plan A: First off, I will have to conduct the picture taking session in the early morning hours because that is when "Dirty Fighter" is on his best behavior. I will position my camera in such a way that neither he nor his older brother will see it and immediately feel the need to poke their grubby little paws into the lens. Above and slightly behind the camera I will be forced to hang some Oreo's on wires to direct the children's eyes in that general direction. This means that I will get maybe 3 quick fire shots in before the UFC fighter and his older brother start to reach for the floating cookies and ruin our holiday shot. Although maybe the shots of my poor children reaching out their little hands plaintively towards the camera will move the recipients of the cards to send us some CASH MONEY. Hold on a second, I am writing that last thought down in my "To-Do For CASH MONEY" list next to "pimping out the hubby".

Ahem. Getting back to my original thought, I may not do the cookie thing because that will end with much whining and crying and boogers running down faces and that doesn't really scream "Great Holiday Shot!"

OK, Plan B: Give the kids some holiday themed toys and/or fun non-breakable ornaments and let them cavort happily around the Christmas tree and take paparazzi-like action shots while dressed in camouflage fatigues from somewhere behind the couch.

The problem I see with this is the potential for the "Dirty Fighter"to jump "The Whiner" for whatever it is that he is holding and the resulting commotion leaving me with blood and gore shots of two toddlers pinned under a fallen Christmas tree. Once again, this doesn't strike me as something people want to see.

Other plans include Bungee cords, Benadryl and many hours of negotiations, bribes and tears. Wish me luck.

Halloween Horror

Oh damn, sorry all who attempted to read this post and were confronted with random words and snippets of sentences. I think a demented squirrel hacked into my account and decided to shake things up a bit. (Shakes fist at imaginary squirrel) Seriously- let's pretend it never happened, shall we? READ ON! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the mother of two boys I know what's in store for me in terms of Halloweens to come. Monsters, fake blood, vampire's, aliens, dinosaurs, possibly some (shudder) Power Rangers costumes etc etc. No big deal, says I, I ain't no wilting violet! I can roll with the best of them! This coming from a person who cannot watch a mildly scary movie- in fact! IN FACT!- I can't watch a scary MOVIE TRAILER or a freaking commercial for a scary movie with out having nightmares. Check my bookshelves though, and you will find everything that Stephen King ever wrote as well as many Dean Koontz novels and my favorites- The Zombie Books. What? In the scary images vs. scary IMAGINED images the scary images win. I am a complicated person.  Shut-up.

Ok, getting back to the original point of this entry; I know that having boys will entail various creepy gory skeletons, disembodied hands, zombies, Frankensteins, and loose eyeball filled Halloweens for many years to come. I am cool with that. However, since my two boys are still too small to pick out their own costumes I have the power to dress them in any cutsey costume I want. The whole point is to get to pictures of them in said cutesy costumes so in a few years when they have their best friends or girlfriends over I can whip out the pictures and embarrass the hell out of my sons. It's why I had kids. The entertainment factor alone makes it worth while. Besides, I have to get them back for covering me in their bodily fluids so many times now that I have a) lost count and b) am not grossed out by picking human feces from underneath my nails. Therefore I picked out some really adorable outfits for them last Halloween and have done so again this Halloween. Last year they were bears, Seba was a koala and Nicky was a brown bear. Behold:

This year I continued with the animal theme and Sebby will be an adorable elephant and Nicky will be a 'Cuddly Lion' (Pics below are not of my kids but were taken from the internet catalog I ordered the costumes from):

   

Seriously people, how freaking cute are these costumes? I was so excited when I found them on sale (thank you, thank you, thank you, sale Gods) that I promptly ordered them. The box came last Friday and I eagerly opened it up. And then I was confronted with this:

gifninja.com Create custom animated gifs at gifninja.com!  

(taking a deep breath)

 

If there is something that I can't stand its clowns. I hate clowns. Detest clowns. Abhor clowns. And a scary clown? Freaks. Me. Out.

Seriously, who at the costume warehouse confused "Cuddly Lion Toddler Costume" with "Give Your Mother a Goddamn Stroke Born Out Of a Ridiculous Fear Of Scary Assed Clowns" costume (in size 'T' for teenagers)????!!!!!???????

 

I am happy to report that I received some of the best customer service ever when I called about the mix up. They were so nice, in fact, that they let me keep the scary assed clown costume and immediately had the missing Cuddly Lion costume shipped out to me. I am happy for all of that but what exactly am I going to do with the clown costume? Dudes and dudettes, I can't even look at the thing. Anybody want it?  Please???? TAKE IT!