Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Tale of Moo: Be warned it's Satire!

My wife is away at La Leche League conference....

Let me start off by saying, I've never been to anything related to La Leche league.. For like the first six months of her going to these meetings I thought it was like a cooking meeting where they just sat around eating custards and crap. Whatever.

So, I will use the powers of "Projective Anthropology" to tell you what is happening this weekend, why I'm not there, etc.

Act 1: The Feeding of the Thrall.

First of all, they all stuff their gourds. There is a contest, and the one that is the fattest will be the one that gets to talk the most, and be declared High Priestess. There are other prizes, but the goal is to expand the tum as far as possible over the three day period. In gatherings of women-folks, by and far, ladies with the most girth are most revered*, have the strongest opinions, and are generally regarded as the wisest. They say things like "You can do it that way, if you don't want it to work!" or "I think so-and-so is the only belly dance instructor with proper technique!**" My poor wife will never win, for she is too thin, beautiful, kind and diplomatic to be taken seriously as the high priestess.. That's cool, she is more comfortable as an 'influencer' as opposed to an executive....Anyway, back to the high priestess...It is this woman who will likely possess "The Thrall". Now the Thrall is that skinny, quasi cute in an aging emo way (?), wimp husband*** who never says a word (except nice things here and there), he just nods along, and seems to have way too much interest in this stuff for the average man. For some reason no other husband would be able to fathom, this guy is doing the Milk-Maker Cult Weekend trip with his Alpha wife, the cult high priestess. Now everyone will enjoy things like the muffins presented below. But of course, the real purpose is to fatten up the Thrall....for later...

Act 2: We talk about our feelings and get empowered.

Well there's a lot of discussion. Like a lot-o-lot-o-lot. We talk the shit out of 'em yall. We touch on our feelings...Then we validate each everyone else's feelings, even if they aren't worth a crap, because a standard hallmark of group female communication is a pride in consensus and smoothness over accuracy and truth. Importantly, meaningful dialogue is hampered by this vestigial communication mode left over from more misogynistic and patriarchal times; ironically its tragic practice is maintained even in this bastion of female empowerment and without the confining pressures of stifling male rigiosity or competition for protective mates. Shit it's even worse yall.. There is one bitch**** who makes the mistake of saying another one is "wrong." Fighting words...This is what they do to her:

Act 3: Denouement
The Third Day is a glorious reckoning. The oneness of the Milk Maker cult reaches an apex as the Thrall has ripened, and the ritual is ready to begin. They put on their Rainbow Cloaks, gather, and sacrifice the Thrall!!!!!!!
This is how it goes down:

In the end the Thrall is eaten alive by the Great Mamory Mistress...And that's how the crops grow, the women folk are satiated for another year, and granted the powers to create and sustain life. It's a beautiful thing. And that's why we can never go back to Helen.


* Sandow, R. A. (2009) Studies of Tahitian Female Power Structures as a Model for British Parlimentary Procedure. International Journal of Anthropological Gender Transformation Issues, 77, 176-209.

**Doodler, K. (2006). Personal Communication with Local Priestess.

***Importantly, not to be confused with "Mancation Husband" who came along and then suddenly dropped yall like a cold potato to drink beer and go rafting with his braws...Check ya later suckers!

****Please note that this is the Technical term associated with the lowest caste of initiates within the cult of Milk Makers. Ergo, this is faux pax of egregious proportion.

PS. I love you wife, see you Saturday.

invasion of the krogsnatchers

t.rex and I are off to the La Leche League Conference, where we will just sit around and lactate for hours on end. And eat schnitzel, and hang out with our friends, and generally enjoy ourselves. Dr. Krog and the Biscuit will be on their own, heaven help 'em.

I see lots of cheese grits in her future. Loooots of cheese grits.

So, while i'm gone, I leave the ol' blog in the capable* hands of Dr. Krog. I think you'll enjoy it. His Photoshop skills are far superior to mine**, and he really likes to touch on heavy world issues***.

See you Sunday, suckers!


* He's especially capable at Brazilian JiuJitsu, I/O Psychology, and eating cheeseburgers.

** By 'Photoshop skills', I mean MS Paint drawings.

*** Like Star Wars.

**** Don't believe anything bad he says about me, because I am a special princess unique snowflake and I never make any mistakes and am always practically perfect in every way. Really.

***** Not really.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

unruly review: labyrinth

...because the Goblin King is my favorite fake boyfriend ever.

When you send a grouchy Dr. Krog into the Unholy Closet of Lost Movies, you never know what you're going to get. You would usually guess Excalibur or Ghostbusters, and you would usually be correct and make fun of him, but last night, you would have been wrong. Because he chose Labyrinth, because he wanted to hear me recite every line in a perfect accent, with gesticulations and spot-on timing.

Labyrinth, made in 1986, is the story of a young girl who gets sick of a crying baby and wishes the exotically attractive Goblin King would come take the baby away so she could spend more time wearing stupid costumes in the park in the rain and not having any friends.

I tried it, and it didn't work.

Anyway, he takes the baby, and she wants it back, because boy, will her stepmother ever be angry! So he tells her she can have the whiny brat back if she solves his labyrinth within 13 hours. The weirdo clock is ticking, Sarah!

Sorry that's so small. If you click on it, you can actually read it.

Along the way, she meets several helpful friends, most of which are really awesome puppets that make you very, very angry at CGI, because they actually look *real*. I ache to see a random goblin cage match vs. Dobby.

She also meets this guy, who is possibly the cutest puppet ever built. He's a worm.

She has many fun adventures, including being felt up by thousands of freaky blue hands, being stuffed in a sparkly oubliette, solving riddles, dancing with terrifying fire puppets, being nearly dumped into the Bog of Eternal Stench, and battling her giant eyebrows with a sword.

Okay, she doesn't actually battle her eyebrows, but she should.

Thankfully, as this is Labyrinth and not Pan's Labyrinth, we never see anything like this.

That thing gives me the screaming heebie jeebies.

But then she is slipped a poisoned peach, which gives her an awesome hallucinogenic dream, in which she wears the world's froufiest ball gown and walks around the world's awesomest costume party to dance with the world's awesomest Goblin King.

Oddly, in the movie, this is considered a bad thing.

One is lead to wonder if she liked the druggy dream so much that she went on to star in such questionable movies as Career Opportunities, The Rocketeer, Dark Water, and She's Just Not That Into You. Or if maybe that's what got her so desperate for heroin in Requiem of a Dream, which i've never seen, but i've heard an awful lot about.

Do you see the difference in her from 1986b to 2000?

In the end, they have a big fight, which is really a chase through an MC Escher drawing, and everybody is friends forever and has a super big group hug, because that's how the 1980's worked, generally.

I loved the 1980's.

And I have to say that Labyrinth is one of my lifelong favorite movies. It honestly appeals to me as much as an adult as it did as a child. It's beautiful, imaginative, dark, creepy, curious. The music actually holds up pretty well. David Bowie as The Goblin King just has this magnificent magnetism. And the puppeteering is genius and makes me wonder if CGI has already jumped the computer-generated shark.

Sadly, I can imagine a 2009 remake. Sarah would be played by Zac Efron. The Goblin Queen would be Gwen Stefani. They'd be the only two humans in the whole thing, performing in front of a green screen with giant, CGI explosions everywhere and breaking out into songs every 5 minutes.

That actually might not be too bad. But I would miss the puppets.

And David Bowie's pants.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

nuts for tomorrow

Because Dr. Krog would.

And then he would ask me what kind of nuts I was storing.

And I would say, "DEEZ NUTS!"

And then we would both spit cereal all over the floor and laugh like 11-year-old boys.

Right now, we're watching a really good movie.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, with screen shots and horrible Photoshopping and everything. Promise.

In other preview news, i'm working with the fabulous BrightCaroline at Bright Shop to create the awesomest shirt ever. It involves cupcakes. Or lack thereof.

Details tomorrow, when Dr. Krog is not watching the movie without me and calling t.rex a jerk while he sleeps, because that's their little game.

Monday, April 27, 2009

tidbits and dasypodidae

Want some tidbits?

Sure you do.

1. My buddy Alicia Istanbul, who makes outrageously lovely jewelry on Etsy, has been kicked off Facebook because her last name is Istanbul. Like, on her birth certificate. And Facebook has thus far neglected to respond to her many kind requests to prove that she is not, in fact, Alicia Constantinople. Talk about annoying censorship! You can join this group if you think they're being complete jerks to her.

Makes you glad your name isn't Adolf Q. Iraq, doesn't it?

2. My toddler mostly dressed herself today for the first time. I chose the shirt.

3. I got my grandmother a 20-year-old telephone for her 79th birthday because every cordless she's ever had has died within a year. I've had the same cordless since 2002, and I know how rough Dr. Crog can be on inanimate objects, so I'd love to know what she and Papa are doing to destroy the things.

4. I played "crush your head" with my baby today.

5. Then I got bored and played it some more.

6. I kinda miss Kids in the Hall, don't you?

7. I am sleepy, and my baby is frachetty, and Dr. Krog is annoyed because even though the my husband thinks blog is designed to make him look hilariously awful, he doesn't like to seem hilariously awful. He is pretty funny, but I assure you that he is not awful. Unless he doesn't get his second nap on Sunday, and then he is just a tiny bit awful.

8. Did you know that armadillos give birth to identical quadruplets and can carry leprosy? It's true! Also, I once chased a rather fiesty little armadillo for over a mile at Cloud Canyon on a class trip in high school and got lost and had to dip my shirt in the river and wrap it around my head to keep from passing out.

8.5 I know that makes no sense, but it seemed reasonable at the time. I was 16, for crying out loud! I was chasing an armadillo! We didn't have cell phones back then!

8.75 Well, we did have cell phones, but they barely fit in briefcases and took two hands to lift.

8.8 No, I didn't catch it.

8.9 The armadillo, I mean.

8.95 Why are we still talking about armadillos?

9. That's it. You're too silly. I'm going to bed now. Silly person.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

weekend in haiku

wee voices, sweet smiles
my children speak a language
like dolphins. with hands.


the dance and the style
are all her own, the music


ship, chair, house, car, bed
hers now, but i really miss
my laundry basket


how i love to eat
chubby legs and baby feet
nom nom nom nom nom


hot, sunny day, yet
siren song of brother's hat:
too hard to resist.


mommy, pull me, please
in my magic carpet box
that scratches the floor


nice weekend. too hot.
family time well spent, but
i should have cleaned more

ha ha ha ha ha
that right there? that's a good joke.
i need cereal.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

goodbye, my cupcake

So let me tell you about my latest invention: the Cupcake Drive-thru.

I find it frustrating that the foods I really desire are not available via drive-thru, especially now that I have two small children. Naturally, when I stopped at Cakes by Darcy yesterday to indulge in a cupcake, t.rex was snoring. So I called the shop, requested a cupcake, and offered an extra dollar to anyone who would run 8 feet to the curb and hand me the cupcake. It worked.

Sadly, I was only able to eat 2 bites of my cupcake. I wasn't sure what happened at the time, but I was able to piece most of it together through the joys of digital photography.

Fig. 1
Me, the Biscuit, and Clifford the Dinosaur take off our purple Wal*Mart clogs and sit down to enjoy an artfully packaged cupcake.

Fig. 2
It is an outrageously attractive cupcake.

Fig. 3
We prepare ourselves for the deliciousness.

Fig. 4
How *YOU* doin'?

Fig. 5
First bite.

My cell phone rings, and I am held captive by a roofer,
who wants me to agree to work with his company before giving me an estimate.
I ask him if his father is the King of Nigeria and he has some money
I could transfer for him, but no luck. He won't shut up.


Fig. 6
When I turn around, this is what I see:

Fig. 7
I am lead to believe that this is what happened.

Fig. 8
Whereas this is probably what really happened.

So. I only got 2 bites of my cupcake, and *then* my kid was a sugarspazzbot all afternoon.

I was pissed, mostly at the roofer. Some at her. Some at myself.


See, that's my worst flaw as a parent, I think-- I am not very good at being unselfish.

Today, for example, the only thing I wanted to do was get together with a friend from high school, eat, and talk without being interrupted. Just for an hour. But everyone who could help me by watching the Biscuit was busy. I am last on the list, every time. Everyone else has plans. I lose. I can't complain, because this is what i've chosen to do with my life and my time, and I don't regret it. I knew that there are no breaks, time-offs, sick days, or holidays from motherhood.

But every now and then, i'd like to be the first priority and not have to feel guilty or beholden for it. Or for asking for it.

Sometimes, I just want what *I* want, when I want it, and to hell with everybody else.

Sometimes, I just want a freakin' cupcake, all for myself.

And then, sometimes, a toy dinosaur eats the cupcake while i'm talking to a roofer, and I realize that it's not going to be even remotely about *me* again until my kids are in college, and I want to cry, laugh, and choke the toy dinosaur while screaming obscenities, all at the same time, in my driveway, until the neighbor kids go inside and tell their mom that they'd like to move back to Canada.

If I had to write an advertising slogan for motherhood today, it would be:


Sniffle. Goodbye, my cupcake.

***update 5-6-09! YOU CAN BUY TEH SHIRT!***
Made by the very talented BrightCaroline of Bright Shop, see it here!

Friday, April 24, 2009

Kreativ III: attack of the pwns

...get it? "Attack of the PWNS"?

Like "Attack of the Clones"?

Because you guys all love Star Wars as much as my impossibly dorky family, right?

No? So you're not interested in this fabulous tauntaun sleeping bag?

For all your "and I thought these things smelled bad on the outside" nights on freezing cold planet Hoth. What do they follow it up with-- a Wompa throw rug? A C3PToaster?

But I digress.

It's so difficult to choose only 2 other blogs out of all my daily destinations. And I am procrastinating. And eating a bowl of cereal while I do it.

First of all, I gave both of these folks HUZZAH Awards of my own invention a few weeks ago. But they deserve something real that I didn't make up in a fit of blogousy, which is blog jealousy, which may or may not overcome me like the vapors occasionally. I am going to copyright "blogousy", by the way, so if you use it, please mail me 10 cents.

BLOGOUSY. You heard it here first!

And if they don't like either award, they can always shoot *both* imaginary awards back at me across the country with a potato gun. I'll be the one holding a large vat of ketchup.

Now. We have my buddy at Disposable Aardvarks, Inc. I find her so interesting, and I admire all the time and creativity she puts into raising and nourishing her family. Fascinating bentos, cool pictures, lots of unique recipes. Just totally different. Makes my sunbutter-spackled rice cakes seem downright quotidien.

And. Again. The awesomeness at Never Slap the Gift Donkey, because I get so excited when there is something new. Especially the guerilla art and robot penguins and umbrella trees. The world needs more wacky.

So there you have it. Spreadin' the love. Just spreadin' it, like gooey, red marmalade made of something sweet. Like kitten hearts. Or apricots.

I don't know what marmalade is, really.

And tomorrow i'll tell you the story about how I invented the Cupcake Drive-Thru, and then my beautiful, delicious, wonderful cupcake was EFFING STOLEN FROM RIGHT UNDER MY NOSE AND I BARELY GOT HALF AND I'M STILL NOT OVER IT AND I WANT MY #@#%@#$^#$ CUPCAKE AND I JUST REALLY HATE ROOFERS.

Here's a hint: it involves this guy.

Kreativ II: etsycupcakebugaloo

...and we're back.

6. I really love, and it has mostly replaced "shopping" for me. I have an Etsy shop, mainly to make Paypal funny money, so that I can spend money on Etsy. It's like art recycling/treasure hunting. That adorable, hand-knit hat on t.rex up there? It's from Etsy, by bonbaby. Those simple earrings that remind me of the spinners on my dad's fishing lures when I was a kid? By sirenjewels. Those sweet, handmade wooden teethers that you can't see because every time I go to photograph them, they're either in my son's mouth or on my daughter's wrist as slimebracelets? By TickiTackiToys.

The only thing I love more than the thrill of selling my own artwork or yapping skills on Etsy is hearing the imaginary *clink* of Paypal and knowing that I get to go select something fun. From Etsy.

I like the word "select" way too much. It's so rich and red and ripe, like cherries over ice. Yum.

7. My middle name was "Virginia" before I got married.

8. Nevermind. It was just supposed to be 7. I think. I'm not very good at following directions.

But here comes the fun part. I get to distribute two Kreativ Blogger Awards.

But sweet Mercury, it's so hard!

There are so many blogs I love! The further I get into blogging, the more blogs I find to adore/worship/stalk.

But I need to have some mental fermentation.

I'll tell you this afternoon.


Thursday, April 23, 2009


I am so happy.

I haz pwinned an award.

See? Right up there? I'm using it Kreativly to cover some random morning boobage that no one wants to see. Because I am Kreativ.

Thank you so, so much to Jenny Penny of Welcome to My Momplex for not only reading and commenting, which gives me warm fuzzies every day, but also for nominating me and being so kind on her awesome blog, which, did I mention, is Welcome to My Momplex. This is even better than a HUZZAH! Award!

I like nominations almost as I love nom-inating cupcakes. NOM NOM NOM.

From what I have gleaned, as the award speech, I am supposed to tell you 7 facts about myself and then nominate two more blogs for the award. Fun!

Let's see. 7 things.

1. I like to read, and the picture above contains most of my favorite books, series, and authors. See?
I dream of writing a book, but I don't have long-term strategic planning skills, so it would have to come in little vignettes or some such. Almost like a blog. Almost like this.

2. You know how in The Office, Pam dreams of having a little balcony and growing plants on it? I find balconies overrated after a hefty puking session in Florence in high school. And I kill all plants that are not Chia-engineered. But I have a Pam-dream, too. I dream of having a beautiful, puffy white chaise lounge in front of a sunny window. With throw pillows and a cute little blanket and a handsome little side table of artfully arranged books I hope to read. Like this.

White, puffy, clean, all mine... yeah, that's gonna have to wait until the kids are in college.

3. I also dreaming of having a little dog again.
Choosing a puppy, snuggling on that chaise. I would like either a

Chinese Crested

or a French bulldog,

because I like weird, small dogs with a punk side. Dr. Krog does not approve, as he prefers large, manly dogs that poop battleships.

See why we don't have a dog?

4. I have an irrational fear of highway driving. I flat out won't do it, especially with my kids, *even* if there is a birth-related conference that all of my friends are going to by the airport and they want me to initiate a bellydance session. The only way to get me to the airport is in Dr. Krog's car, with him driving, at a time when no one else is on the road, wearing 3 helmets and knee pads.

I am trying to build up the cajones to go to Ikea and the Renaissance Festival this spring, but... i'm not there yet. It's deeply embarrassing to have such a crippling fear, so I make a lot of jokes at my own expense.

5. I pretend like i'm taking pictures with an awesome Canon EOS SLR camera. The kind where you use your hand to focus, and things in the background are marvelously fuzzy. I try to recreate this look with Photoshop, but it's a labor of love. I enter every online giveaway for a digital SLR I can find, but I never win. Maybe when I grow up and get the chaise lounge, eh?


And I will save 6, 7 & 8 and my two nominees for Part II: Kreativ Boogaloo later today. Because I am very much in need of a shower, and t.rex wants to discuss antidisestablishmentarianism, and the Biscuit can't get her ladybug skirt on over her sunglasses.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

dear husband

Dear Husband,

Thank you so much for everything you do for our family.

The early mornings, the long nights, the 2am Sunday launches.

That whole "6 years of grad school" thing.

The conferences and out-of-town trips and turbulence-filled
plane rides, which I know you hate,
even though the cable and room service almost make up for it.

Some days, I think that you've got a pretty good deal
in your quiet, comfortable cubicle.
One or both of the kids has a screaming fit
or a major barf or refuses to sleep,
and I think,

"He is surely having a better day than me."

And those are the days I usually email you about my horrible day.
And then you bring me Chick-fil-A, and i'm thankful for that, too.

But most of my days are amazing.
I live in a wonderful house filled with everything I need.
I spend my time with two amazing, beautiful, hilarious children.
I have freedom to go to the park, to go shopping,
to visit with friends.

I have very few worries.

And the only things you really expect of me are
two mostly unbroken children
and a house that hasn't burned to the ground.
And a hug at the door.

Oh, and that I let you watch The Venture Bros.
every single night of our life.

And I just want to say


for working so hard
to make such a wonderful, nerfy life for your family.

You are my favorite.

love, d.