I made a cake last night and not only did I drop several lemon seeds into the batter while trying unsuccessfully to grate some lemon rind (perhaps I should have used a fresh, whole lemon instead of an old, half lemon that had been in a baggie in the fridge for awhile), I then forgot to fish them out until after the batter was already beaten, at which time they were impossible to find. Oh, and because it was a pear cake, while I was peeling the pear it slipped out of my hands and landed in a Tupperware container that previously held a roast chicken and some saffron rice, and that currently held some soapy water with a few grains of rice and oh yeah: GREASY CHICKENY RESIDUE. Who wants cake?!

(Rinsing off the pear reminded me of the time I put some frozen steak on my George Foreman grill, and when I opened it to check on it, it apparently was still frozen and you know how the GF has an angle so that the grease will fall out? Yeah, my steak fell out too…right into the trash can. I washed it off and all but the whole time I was wondering, are you allowed to wash your beef? I’ve got WET BEEF.)

Has anyone seen the ridiculous Sweet and Low commercial with Regis Philbin where he essentially says, “Who wants a sweetener that tastes like delicious natural sugar? I enjoy the cloying artificial flavor of Sweet and Low! Also, I enjoy being driven around by the Pink Panther.” I enjoy that their angle is that they know it tastes weird. However, I love this Gas-X commercial and this Orbit commercial. What the french, toast?

GODRCKS

Last night I was putting Spike to bed when my elbow knocked the side of his crib. I was still holding him, so he got jostled, and apparently it scared him to death. He screamed in a totally new way, like a person in a haunted house: Aaaaaaaahhhh! It was the scariest, worst sound I have ever heard. He’s never been afraid before — cranky, hungry, mad because he has a diaper full of pee, yes; afraid, no. I immediately burst into tears.

You know how those Fox News folks said that every time Hillary Clinton opens her mouth, men hear their wives nagging them? While that is sexist and awful, it has given me an easy way to do some good old fashioned nagging. This morning:

Me: Hey, Larry? Hillary Clinton called and said you wore those shorts yesterday and the day before.
Larry: Oh, that was sweet of her, but could you call her back and tell her I have an outside meeting today and that I’m going to get dirty?
Me: Sure thing.

Y’all, I read a book! Sure, it was a parenting book with illustrations and only 114 pages, but still. I never thought I would read another book ever again. I highly recommend The Three Martini Playdate for anyone who believes that indulging your children too much is going to turn them bad. There is a particularly hilarious chapter on not going overboard with childproofing your house:

If you don’t teach them now, do not be surprised when, forty years from now, your adult son electrocutes himself with a spoon, or drowns in the toilet, or repeatedly lights his hair on fire when using the stove.

This was actually the first baby present we received (from Jaxxie and Jaysus) — thanks, guys!

1. Karin cries because Roxane sits on Sharon’s bed.
2. Paula irons her sports bra.
3. Four words: potato sack runway challenge.
4. Karin is ashamed to be a girl!
5. Judge to model after a runway show: You scared the shit out of me.
6. Exit music for departing 35+ aspiring model: Coldplay’s “Yellow.”

XQUESME

Driver: blonde, big diamond ring, long cigarette.

I spend a lot of time watching tv in the middle of the night. Thank god for two things: cable and tivo. Here’s what I’m watching these days: (more…)

Not only can I hear ZZ Top playing at Jubilee Jam from the comfort of my living room, I can clearly tell that they’re playing “Legs” right now.

Yesterday evening Mix dropped by with a cake — a test cake, if you will, one she was practicing making before Rose’s birthday party tomorrow, and one that she thought was ugly and ruined. Because Rose is unlike any child I’ve ever known, she wants a Bollywood party for her 9th birthday (could she be more 21st century?) and so Mix was making her a semi-politically incorrect Indian lady cake, complete with bindis.

I thought the cake kind of looked like me — goth-white skin, black hair, red lips — and I was all set to hack into my icing doppelganger, but Mix warned that the black icing would stain my teeth. So I ate around it. (more…)

Hoorah! I can post photos again — thanks, gclark! — so at long last, here are some pictures of Spike. You’ll see that the name totally fits him.

Here he is mere minutes after being forcibly yanked into the world. While he is not impressed, we all were impressed by his hair:

And here he is a few days ago. Is it just me, or does the combo of that onesie and his hairdo make him look like a dentist from the 50s?

This is a test post to see if pictures can be uploaded.

I was all excited about the premiere of Swingtown last week for many reasons, one of which is that this is the time when tv viewers must lower our standards considerably, but people: I knew it was probably a bad sign that a 70s period show about suburban swingers was on CBS, but man. They CBSed that sucker to death. On the far superior, not even worth comparing Mad Men, the characters mind their own 1960s business without cheeky closeups of charming artifacts of days of yore. Not so Swingtown: there was what seemed like a 15-second shot of someone opening a can of Tab. I could totally hear the director saying DID YOU SEE THAT? IT’S TAB! PEOPLE IN THE 70s LOVED THEM SOME TAB! THIS SHOW IS FAR OUT! I lasted 7 minutes before I turned it off, and that’s coming from the person who watched and enjoyed every episode of the Danny Bonaduce-hosted I Know My Kid’s a Star.

Since I can’t upload any new pictures of the baby* (who, btw, is a pig who weighs 14 pounds), instead, here is an old picture of the contents of my china cabinet from when I moved all the booze out a few years ago.

Items of note:
– nun finger puppet
– ice cream scoop from my grandparents’ soda fountain
– cupcake from my 30th birthday party
– lots of fake grapes

*BREAKING NEWS GCLARK IS FIXING MY SHIZ

This article about the effects high gas prices are having on people in poor, rural areas (like the Delta) breaks my heart. Be sure and click through the slideshow for added heartbreakery — especially the photo of the man putting $5’s worth of gas in his truck.

Popeye: The sailor courts Olive Oyl and gains strength through spinach.

Untold Stories of the ER: A woman eats toilet paper; 108 degree fever.

Pink Panther: The pink cat uses his nonverbal wits to outsmart his foes.

Roseanne: The Conners go to the mall.

World’s Funniest Wedding Outtakes: Nuptials go awry for unlucky couples.

I just changed a diaper and gave the baby a bath. Topless. Because there was poop on my shirt.

1. Occasionally the 17th hour of the Today Show will be on in my living room and occasionally I will watch it. I have noticed that Kathie Lee Gifford is the rudest talk show host in the history of the world. She constantly interrupts the guests to make comments, most of which are uninformed and make her look stupid (especially if you happen to watch fairly frequently and have noticed patterns). Most guests roll with it because they are on the 17th hour of the Today Show because they are not important enough to make hours 1-16, so they say “oh ha ha” and move on with their schpiel. Yesterday two awesome things happened: one, during a travel segment the guest said something like “why don’t I have people contact you about this instead” after being constantly interrupted with comments about how Kathie Lee thinks computers are basically witchcraft, which the guest managed to say without venom dripping from her voice. I have a lot to learn from that person. The other awesome thing was that Ashley Judd was on talking about her humanitarian work and Ashley Judd clearly hated Kathie Lee’s guts. Ashley Judd is beautiful, intelligent, and earnest, and spoke with passion about her recent travels. After she teared up after talking about her experiences in an orphanage, Kathie Lee ended the segment by saying, “Ashley is also in a lot of great movies” and complimenting Ashley’s necklace. Ashley was not impressed. She might’ve said “thank you” but she really meant “wtf you horrible whore.”

2. With all the great Flight of the Conchords lyrics, you know what’s stuck in my head all the damn time lately? This one: “leggy leggy leggy leggy.”

3. I didn’t think it was possible, but I might be sick of Law and Order.

1. Did anyone notice that the NYT magazine spelled “doctrine” wrong on the letters page this week? Finding a NYT typo is only second-best to finding one in the New Yorker (I’m looking at you, review of Crimes of the Heart in which you spell Hazlehurst “Hazelhurst,” although that may be a fact-checking error, in which case I get double bonus points for that). My brain doesn’t get a lot of action these days, so it was very exciting for me.

2. My brain has, however, watched a lot of television in the past month. My standards, which are not terribly high to begin with where tv is concerned, have been lowered considerably. Case in point: I have started watching All My Children again. They lured me in with the same characters that were on when I started watching 25 years ago. Also, Dixie is now a ghost. And Tad got shot at Angie and Jesse’s wedding. Here is part of my fascination, though: while it is obvious that Tad is not really going to die, thus reuniting with Dixie forever (they are currently happily in love in a white set version of heavenly purgatory), part of me worried over the weekend that he might, in fact, die without knowing what Kathy is really Kate, his daughter, even though Adam (who was haunted by Dixie!) knows the truth and is hovering outside of Tad’s hospital room and is totally about to tell him except Tad’s brother (who performed surgery on Tad a minute ago) is blocking him from going in his room. How is this possible? Is it because my defenses are down? Is it the sleep deprivation? Or are soap operas carefully constructed to elicit certain responses?

3. Spike has become the Hungriest Baby in All the Land and as such we have started giving him formula. Gasp! you’re saying. Not formula! Don’t you know what happens to babies who are not exclusively breast fed? Yes. They grow up to be like me. Not counting the soap opera thing, my brain works fairly ok most of the time. I said most of the time.

4. Speaking of Spike, he has started talking. He doesn’t speak English yet, but apparently he speaks mobile because he spends a great deal of time looking at the animals on his mobile and discussing the day’s events with them. I’m pretty sure I overheard something about the delegate count last night, but I could be mistaken. I also have to tell you that he has a very hilarious little fake laugh that sounds like he’s making fun of George W. Bush. Heh-heh-heh. Oh man. You people who don’t know Spike in real life are missing out.

5. It’s naptime. Goodnight.